Chapter Fourteen
:: Max ::
Christmas Eve. It was officially Christmas Eve and Max knew it because he'd seen the clock hit midnight. He'd also seen 12:59 change to 1 am. As 1:59 turned to 2 am, he punched his pillow repeatedly.
"Okay, what's going on?"
"Nothing."
"It's 2 am, you're wide awake, and I couldn't get down here all day because you sealed the lair. My nose knows."
Max punched the pillow one last time and fell back. He'd seen way too much of his ceiling in the last week. He ignored Colosso and squeezed his eyes shut.
The pillow smelled like Phoebe. He had already found two long dark hairs in the three hours he'd been wrestling with sleep.
His mind kept replaying the kiss. If the mini-monitor hadn't gone off…
Max didn't have to guess what would have happened. He knew. No kiss could begin like that and not lead to…
"I can tell something happened to you while you were gone. You can tell me."
Max heard Colosso's cage open. He shook his head as the rabbit made his way to him.
"Not this time, Colosso."
"Has hanging around evil villains started to change your mind about this supe thing?"
Colosso wasn't giving up. Max wavered. He wanted to talk to someone, but how could he even start to explain what he didn't understand?
The house was typically quiet in the middle of the night. It was the only time the house was quiet, which was why the sound of a crash in the kitchen almost gave him a heart attack. He sprung from the bed. His Thundersense hadn't gone off, but he heard more, albeit quieter, noises.
"Wait here," he ordered Colosso.
"Like I'd go fight a robber?" Colosso quipped. "So much for my 'back to evil' theory. You're going to go save the day, aren't you?"
Max took the stairs three at a time. He opened the door quietly and listened. He heard low voices.
Someone was definitely in the kitchen.
He crept forward down the dark hall and rolled into the living room. He belly crawled towards the Thundermonitor.
"—-haven't made cookies in the middle of the night since I was dating your dad."
Mom. Max inched backwards.
"How did you know he was the one? I mean, you mentioned your first kiss was how you discovered your powers, but how did you really know?"
Max stopped.
Phoebe.
Mom laughed. Max slid into a crouch position.
"That was quite a party where we kissed for the first time. Your dad doesn't miss a chance to tell people I got my powers and got Thunderstruck all at once."
"Thunderstruck? What's Thunderstruck?"
"Well, the electric charge from the kiss was only partially my powers kicking in, the rest was the result of a Thunderstrike. It doesn't happen with just anyone. As your dad tells it, Thundermans know they've found the one when sparks fly...literally. It was just a random coincidence my powers were also electric."
"Okay, why have I never heard about this?"
"It seemed a better idea for you to experience it first and then ask questions. You haven't experienced it, have you?"
Phoebe hesitated. Max held his breath. There was no way she was going to tell mom. "Well, there were some sparks one time with Cherry's brother, Perry when our hands met, but I never went on a real date with him."
Max frowned. That Ken doll hockey lover had been an attention seeking—
"Hand sparks can signal an attraction, but that's not the same as being Thunderstruck. After that party, whenever I wasn't with your dad, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't even sleep. I was seventeen and I'd sneak over to his house, climb through the window and we'd fall asleep and I'd sneak out by morning. PopPop caught us one time and that was a mess. That's what being Thunderstruck does to a person; it consumes you in the beginning. I just wondered if maybe something had happened on the mission or—"
"No, not at all," Phoebe snorted nervously. "C'mon, who was I going to fall for? A villain? Ha!"
Mom laughed. "You're right. I never slept on a mission. It's all tunnel vision. It takes a couple weeks to come down from it too."
"You described me to a T," Phoebe said, lying through her teeth. Max hung onto every word trying to process it.
They were Thunderstruck. It didn't explain the intense attraction before the kiss happened or give him any solace, but it explained the after effects from the kiss. He inched a little closer.
"So how'd you get over the insomnia?"
The refrigerator opened and closed. "You know this is nice. You've never been so interested in my stories before."
"Well, it's Christmas," Phoebe said happily, but in a way that Max could tell she was trying to get back to the point. "And I really appreciate you baking cookies in the middle of the night with me."
"I know you're going to leave the nest soon for good," mom sighed. "I want to cherish these moments."
The sound of the mixer filled the air. Max rubbed his eyes. "C'mon," he mouthed. After another minute, the noise stopped. Max heard the sound of beaters against the bowl. The house smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg.
"So you were saying…" Phoebe prompted.
"I was saying?"
"You were obsessed with dad, couldn't sleep, yada yada. But, I know you can sleep without him now. I mean, he snores like a jetliner. What changed?"
Mom laughed. "You almost sound like Max."
Max wrinkled his nose. His leg was falling asleep in his awkward position. He shifted slightly.
"New relationships are so exciting, but hormones run high and when you're young you can doubt yourself. I'll spare you the details, but being Thunderstruck scared me. Even though I knew I loved your dad, my parents said I was too young and PopPop didn't like his son with someone who got powers so late. All the constant thoughts about how I'd never be good enough for the Thundermans and the lack of sleep were made worse by me trying to slow things down. But slowing things down actually sped things up in some ways."
"How?" Phoebe asked.
"Well, I come from a long line of McBooger women who wouldn't think about sleeping with someone until their wedding night. Between me and Mandy, that tradition went up in smoke. I'll spare you the details, but sneaking into someone's bed every night can stir up more than sleep. At least I was dating your dad. Now Mandy—"
Max buried his face in his hands and gagged. It was bad enough listening to girl talk in general, but listening to his mom talk—
"Go back to you and dad. How'd you get de-Thunderstruck?" Phoebe asked. Max heard the oven door open and close.
"I never did."
"What?"
"Well, I never found a reason not to love my Hank-a-saurus. The effects don't consume you as much over time, but they're always there."
Max snorted the minute he heard 'Hank-a-saurus.' He froze.
"Did you hear that?" Mom asked.
"Hear what?"
"It sounded like someone else was awake. Hmm...I just hope it's not Chloe."
"I didn't hear anything," Phoebe said quickly. "So that's it?"
"Well, for me and your dad it is, but you should ask Nana about how she and PopPop met. Then you'll hear all about how she beat the Thunderstrike."
"What? She did? How?"
"She's as stubborn as your PopPop. She thought he was handsome, but also arrogant and self-absorbed."
Max rubbed his neck. He had heard those words used about himself before.
"PopPop kissed her on a dare and Nana rebelled purely on principle. She refused to be in the same room for him for three months and managed to break the effects of the Thunderstrike. It was only after PopPop rescued Nana's little brother from drowning in the river and she kissed him that she let herself get re-struck. It was all over then. They got married a month later."
The timer went off.
"Can you finish up Pheebs? I'm getting tired. It's almost four."
"Sure Mom. Thanks for the stories. This...this was fun."
"It really was. Thanks, baby."
Max scrambled around the couch just as Mom walked out of the kitchen and turned towards the stairs. He waited until he heard the door to her bedroom open before getting up and heading into the kitchen.
Phoebe sat at the island, sliding gingerbread men from tray to cooling rack with her right hand. Her left hand propped up her chin.
"How much did you hear?" she asked without turning around.
"How'd you know it was me?"
She cut him a look. "I heard you snort at Hank-a-saurus."
"How could I not?"
Her lips twitched, but she didn't smile. He grabbed a still hot cookie and popped a bite into his mouth. He open mouth breathed, tossing the cookie across his tongue until it was cool enough to chew.
"What are we going to do?"
He swallowed the bite of pure deliciousness. "Well, first you can't start calling me Max-a-saurus."
"Max, I swear to—"
"I'm sorry!" He raised his hands in surrender and smiled. "Jokes make awkward things easier."
"I can't joke about how I feel."
Max's smile faded. "How do you feel?"
She broke a gingerbread leg off and tossed it in her hand. "Think about it. As Thundermans carrying the ability to Thunderstrike, we basically double struck ourselves."
"So? You didn't answer me. How do you feel?"
Max's heart thudded against his ribs in anticipation of the answer. Phoebe looked at him like he was crazy as she dismembered her cookie.
"Does it matter? Max, nothing can ever happen between us. Do you want to risk our careers, our friends, our family? Mom and dad's reputation?"
Max bristled. "Of course not."
"Then don't ask how I feel."
Max pushed away from the island and wove around it towards the refrigerator. "Fine. I'll remember that the next time you come to me begging for—"
"I didn't beg!" Phoebe hissed in a loud whisper. Gingerbread body parts fell to the counter.
Max grabbed a water and headed towards the kitchen table, leaning against it as he unscrewed the cap and took a sip. "Just like you didn't kiss me?"
Tears filled Phoebe's eyes. She grabbed the spatula and threw into the sink. "Go away, Max. Just go away. It's Christmas and I don't want it ruined."
Max felt a flush creep up his neck. The words stung. He slapped his hand against the table. He thought back to the year dream Phoebe had stopped him from taking the spirit out of Christmas and the happiness on her face when he had made it snow. It was completely different from her current, angry, indignant face. They glared at each other.
"Too late for me," he finally said coldly.
Before she could answer, he yanked the back door open and headed into the night.