A/N

Yo. This was fun to write. I hope you find it as entertaining as I did. XD

Reviews are loved~

Fang and I were greeted with grins when we got downstairs. I suppose everyone was still happy with me about the b-day bash. Throw a party with lots of cake, and I'm super popular amongst the Flock. Insist on schoolwork and studying and I'm Hitler-Max that everyone hates. I'm not a genius by any means, but this was easy to understand. Flock like fun and not books.

Three birdkids were in the kitchen, the Gasman and Nudge starting to eat while Iggy stood at the stove, making scrambled eggs and flipping pancakes at the same time. Angel was probably sleeping in for whatever reason.

"Told you they were in Max's room," Gazzy gloated as he set his plate of toast onto the dining table. I rolled my eyes as I stepped onto the last stair step.

"I thought Fang was in the bathroom. I owe Gazzy ten bucks because I lost our bet, then," Nudge's voice sighed while Nudge herself stuffed her mouth with a forkful of pancakes.

"Wha'? No, I don'!" she protested as fluffy pancake bits spewed out of her mouth and maple syrup dribbled down her chin.

"Gazzy, that was a lame attempt, even for you," Fang remarked, sauntering into the kitchen, me following. Sauntering? No, Max, he's just walking. Oh God. Why was everything he did so sexy?

"Not as lame as my cooking," Gazzy replied matter-of-factly in my voice. I had just settled onto a chair, and threw Gaz a glare while Fang shook with silent laughter in the adjacent seat.

"Keep talking, Gazzy, and I'll cook your food for you for the rest of the year," I threatened, stabbing my egg yolk. The Gasman pouted, translating to Fine, I'll shut up. Iggy, the chef, took his seat across from me and gagged.

"Max? Cooking? What horrible thing did Gaz do to earn such a cruel punishment?" he asked as the other four of us munched on our food.

I swallowed the egg-and-toast mixture in my mouth and gave Iggy a sickly sweet smile. "You want a year's supply too, Ig?"

"No thanks. I'll take up your offer when I want to die of food poisoning," he responded, grinning blindly (yep, I've got a way with words) over my shoulder. Fang, Nudge, and the Gasman were as successful at holding their laughter in as I was at not swearing at the infuriating strawberry blond cook of ours.

"You little motherfu – "

Fang clapped his hand over my mouth and chided me, "No colorful language at the breakfast table, Max. There are children here, remember?"

Iggy, Nudge, and the Gasman shot him annoyed looks. Ha-ha. Nudge sipped her orange juice before complaining, "I am so not a child. I turned twelve yesterday!"

Gazzy declared, "I'll be a double-digit kid in just another year!"

"And I'm your age, lovebirds," Iggy added defensively, sprinkling sugar onto his waffles.

"Then why do you never act like it, Ig?" Fang asked him, his hand still covering my mouth. Wanting to prod Iggy too, I struggled against Fang, tugging at his arm, but he wouldn't let go. Freak.

Iggy sneered, "Yes, because you're totally acting your age by muting your girlfriend so she doesn't say motherfu – "

"Mmmmph!" I yelled – or tried to yell, since I was stifled by Fang's freaking hand. No way I would let Iggy get away with that. Hey: if I'm not allowed to say it, he sure as heck isn't.

A little burst of inspiration made me lick Fang's hand, my DNA slimed all over his rough palm. He recoiled, and I yelled in triumph as my lips were freed, making Nudge giggle. Fang looked at his hand with a disgusted expression.

"What's wrong, Fang? That stuff's in your mouth all the time, isn't it?" Iggy sniggered, and I joined in. Gazzy made a 'yechh!' noise.

"What the hell, Max?" Fang asked me, wiping my spit on his boxer shorts. I could easily register his annoyance through his tightened jaw, but I felt in the mood to tease.

"No colorful language at the breakfast table Fang. There are children here, remember?" I admonished him, smirking. He rolled his eyes.

"Why'd you lick me?"

Iggy muttered something about me licking Fang's lips all the time. Fang and I ignored him.

"Why'd you keep your freaking hand on my mouth?"

"I wanted to be sure you were cooled down when I released you. I did it so you wouldn't say 'motherfucker'."

Whoops.

Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy and I cracked up, enjoying Fang's mortified expression to the fullest. He muttered something around the lines of, "Damn…"

I wiped a tear from my eye, still chortling. "After all your precaution, Fang, you're the one that slipped up. Mr. Loose Lips, you are."

Gazzy was laughing so hard milk shot out of his nose, and when he saw what he did he just started cracking up again, said milk flying out of his nostrils even faster. Iggy cheered him on as Nudge edged away so she wouldn't get splashed.

"Then are we allowed to say motherfu – "

"No," Fang and I answered Gazzy in unison, and he groaned inwardly.

"You guys are never any fun…" He got up to put his plate in the sink when a flick of butter stuck to the back of his neck. The Gasman turned slowly, expecting Iggy, but instead finding me with my fork in launching position, wearing a devilish smile that said Am I fun now? Fang's eyes widened halfway (the Fang equivalent to being utterly astonished) and Nudge's mouth was agape.

"Food fight!" Iggy yelled, aiming a powdery waffle at Fang, who ducked, making it land on my face instead. Gazzy threw a handful of eggs at Nudge, which landed on her pyjama pants, and she shrieked and retaliated with a piece of French toast. I spluttered sugar out of my mouth as Fang grinned at me.

"You look like you're wearing powder," he told me, his index finger grazing my cheek, "as in makeup." He licked his finger and smacked his lips. "Mmmm. Sweet."

My white cheeks turned pinkish. Stupid Fang. "You know, you're right. I look much better with these cosmetics. I have a suggestion for you too," I said slyly, grabbing the maple syrup bottle and squirting syrup all over his face. I could see how gooey the syrup was as it dripped from the dark strands of his hair.

"Your face seems handsomely browned," I snickered, loving the look on his face, "and I think your look beats anything the sun could offer for your skin."

His tongue grazed the corner of his mouth, tasting the maple syrup as he regained his composure. "You're a brilliant stylist, Max, and your face is well made," he said, eerily calm, and a sense of dread had taken hold of me. Uh-oh, what does he have planned?

"But I think you could use a little blush," Fang finished, grabbing two pieces of bread off his plate to plant them on my cheeks. Peeling them off a millisecond later, I gasped as the red jam made sticky round circles on my face. Fang smirked at me, and I humored him by scooping jam into my mouth.

"Strawberry," I informed him, very serious-like, and he nodded curtly. The moron.

Meanwhile, Iggy, Nudge, and the Gasman were in a triangle of food war. Iggy was flicking strips of bacon at Gazzy's face as Gazzy slapped Nudge's head with blueberry pancakes while Nudge pelted Iggy's stomach with sunny-side-up eggs. The food would usually stick to their clothes and/or hair, and sometimes they would even catch some in their mouth, but still crumbs and chunks would fall to the floor. This would be fun to clean up afterwards.

I returned to Fang, who watched me with a bemused expression, his obsidian eyes noting my powdery white face and red cheeks. "All you need is a hat and red nose, and you'll look just like a clown," he assured me, probably picturing me in circus clothes. I shoved him, and he added, "More of a clown than usual, anyway."

"Look who's talking, Mr. Fake Tan," I retorted, catching a drop of syrup dripping from his chin and licking it clean off my finger. I felt an urge to laugh again. He looked so damn funny. "You really couldn't settle with the lotion, could you? Had to go and buy freaking maple syrup!"

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p'. Fang stared intently at my face again as I heard a particularly loud shriek from Nudge, and I craned my neck to see Gazzy spreading cream cheese onto her ponytail. She was pissed. He was so going to get it now.

"Max?" Fang said, wiping the syrup off his face with a dry pancake. I felt the urge to giggle mixed with a bizarre desire to eat the pancake.

"Yeah?"

"Your clown makeup looks tasty."

"I assure you, it is." I twirled my finger on my face, making sure to get both flavors before popping it into my mouth.

"I'd like a taste. Can I?" he asked, an indefinable expression on his face. Hmm.

"I guess," I said, offering him some on my thumb. Fang shook his head.

"Not like that." He took another dry pancake and wiped my face clean (those things make great napkins, people) and squeezed all the white-and-red gooey goodness onto my lips. I stared at the huge pink blob below by nose.

"Fang, what - ?" I didn't have the chance to finish since Fang leaned over to kiss me. There was the usual (and did I mention amazing?) Fang taste, along with a warm hint of maple syrup compliments of him topped off with a sticky strawberry flavor and and sugary sweetness from yours featherly. It was a passionate lip-lock, complete with some delicious tongue action that revealed a whole list of new tastes, and, of course, that blissful feeling in my chest that always arrives when I kiss Fang.

When we split, I gave him one of my rarities: a light, flirty smile. The only thing he had to say to me was, "Yum."

I smacked him. That idiot.