Miss Moony would like to say that she doesn't own Maximum Ride, and that she had no help with this story from Miss Wormtail, Miss Padfoot or Miss Prongs.
Max/Fang. Dedicated to heraldmage, who's still searching for a copy of the book, but is reading fanfiction despite that.
------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------
A Taste of Heaven
On Sundays, she tastes of wariness and chicken. He kisses her, and she relaxes, just a little bit.
On Mondays, she tastes of cold milk and loneliness. He kisses her, and tries make the latter go away, if only for a moment.
On Tuesdays, she tastes of boredom and greasy cheeseburgers. He kisses her, and keeps her distracted until the Erasers track them down.
On Wednesdays, she tastes of spagetti with tomato sauce and a side-serving of victory. He kisses her, and shares in the thrill of the latter.
On Thursdays, she tastes of laughter and dried fruit. He only kisses her very briefly, because he doesn't want the laughs to stop for too long.
On Fridays, she tastes of spun sugar and exhaustion. He kisses her once, because she's too tired to do it again.
On Saturdays, she tastes of freedom and freshly baked cookies. He kisses her, long and hard, and she loves him for it.
Because right now it is only Max and Fang, the unwanted ones, and they've come to know each other so well since the others left. Fang knows exactly what Max needs most, every second of every day, and Max never knows what's in Fang's heart, but every time he kisses her, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, he tastes of heaven.