Minor Editing Completed

I'm back, and I've brought you a little present! Another chapter/update! Yeah!

Seriously though, read on and enjoy chapter 14!

(Oh, and I own nothing!)

Fang's POV

At the end of March, it's bright and sunny outside here in Phoenix. But guess what? I'm home sick.

Now we Avian-American's don't get sick very often, and even a sneeze is out of character. So when I sneezed, just a little sneeze, Max freaked out.

"You're not sick. You can't be sick! I will hurt you if you're sick!" I just had this 'WTF, Max?' look on my face as I said,

"I'm not sick. It was just a sneeze." I tried to calm her down.

"A sneeze leads to a cough, which leads to a sore throat. A sore throat leads to a fever, which leads to dizziness and nausea. All of which indicate sickness!" She's really worked up.

"I'm not sick!" I shouted again and left the room. As I left, I gave a little cough; which I hoped Max didn't hear.

"Did you just cough?" I swore under my breath, and lied,

"No,"

Max's POV

I told Fang he was sick. But he insisted on going to work. So I just let him, I didn't give a crap at that particular moment.

So of course, he came home from work early; coughing and wheezing like no tomorrow.

"Hey, Mr. I'm not sick. You're home early." I teased lightly, keeping a short distance.

"Shut…up." He coughed violently between words, still maintaining a low and deadly tone.

"Fine," I left and retrieved the cough syrup we kept just in case.

"Drink," I ordered, thrusting the bottle at him. Being obedient, he took some of the cough syrup, and then lied down on the couch. I found a spare blanket, and covered him lightly.

"Now be a good boy and take a nap," I mocked. He glared, but eventually snuggled under the blanket and closed his dark eyes. I kissed his forehead, which was burning hot, and quietly crept across the hall.

"Iggy," I whispered. He was in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of cookies; mom's recipe.

"You just smell chocolate chip cookies and come running, don't you?"

"Normally yes, but right now I have a favor to ask."

"Ask away." He turned toward me after placing the cookies carefully in the oven.

"Could you make some um, some soup?" Because we all know that I can't cook worth crap.

"Why? Are you craving it like you were craving tacos the other night?" He seemed irritated.

"No, Fang just so happens to be quite sick." I said matter-of-factly.

"Oh. I'll make some soup then. Chicken noodle?" He asked, hands on the cupboard handles.

"Tomato, actually." He silently gathered the ingredients. I was about to say thanks, but something struck me as odd.

"Wait, why'd you get so irritated when you thought it was for me?" I tapped my foot impatiently.

"You're always craving something different. It's quite stressful on me."

"Whatever. Holler when it's done."

"The cookies or the soup?" He asked sarcastically.

"Both," I answered truthfully. I quickly stuck out my tongue before slipping out the door unseen, embarrassed by my childish gesture. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Still Max's POV

3 weeks later, and Fang is still sick as a dog. He hasn't gone to work, and he spends his days sleeping. When he's actually awake, he updates his blog and gets sick by the side of our bed. He only gets out of bed to take a shower and use the bathroom, both of which require assistance from your truly. I'm quite afraid that he'll fall over without me there to hold him upright.

It really scares me how out of it he usually is. His voice has gone, so he uses a bell to call me in our room when he wants something. A whiteboard is used to communicate. It's pathetic, and I'm worried out of my mind. I'm debating calling mom over and having her check him out. But each time I bring it up, he insists that he'll be fine and that I shouldn't be so concerned. (To which I point out that if I was truly concerned, I could always drag him to the emergency room while he's drowsy and delirious from cough medicine.)But things haven't reached that particular point yet.

Although all hell did break loose on Saturday of that week.

Everything was normal. I woke up, and sweetly asked Fang if he wanted anything.

"Juice"He wrote in his unmistakable handwriting.

So, I went into the kitchen. I rummaged through the fridge and dug out the orange juice. There was a little bit left, which I began to pour. But a quick pain in my stomach made me miss the cup and pour all over the counter. The bell rang, and I bounced into our room before cleaning up the small spill.

"Another contrackshun?" (AN: That's contraction… he just can't spell worth crap… lol) I nodded my head patiently.

"3rd one in 90 minutes" I sighed. Of course he would be keeping count.

"I'll be fine. Let me go get your juice." I left abruptly. He shouldn't be worried about me. I'm fine!

There was no orange juice left, so I found a new bottle of apple juice to open. I struggled for a quick second, but eventually got the cap off.

I began pouring again, when a hard and painful contraction hit. I literally dropped the bottle in my hand and yelled out in anguish. I started to sink to my knees, taking sharp breaths on the way down.

Fang came rushing out of bed and down the hall before grabbing on to the wall for dear life.

"Max," He whispered out, breathing heavily.

"You're going to fall!"

"We, never pick out, names." He stated, and then fell to the ground.

"Fang!" I shouted. I was then silenced by another equally painful contraction.

And then, just then, my water broke. Of course!

Ohhh, cliffy. I can just see the reviews now,

"Update, update, update ASAP!"

And I will, as soon as I update New Lovers. So I'll get back to this sometime this week/weekend.

You'll have to wait, but in the mean time, REVIEW! Even if your review just says,

"Update, update, update ASAP!"

Peace, joy, and Fax,

~Faxisthegreatest123~