Title: Contrasts

Author: ash ily

Summary: A series of drabbles contrasting the Flock's life pre-Then and Now and post.

Rating: PG13 for gay/bisexual relations.

Pairing: Iggy/Fang. Slash.

WARNING: Yes, two males are going to engage in romantic activities. You have been forewarned. Any anti-slash flamers will be met with my personal wrath.

Disclaimer: MaxRide is James Patterson's, but I have temporarily clubbed him over the head and stolen the characters for my own amusement. Just don't tell anyone, okay?

Dedication: To my beta. She actually sticks with me, can you believe that?

A/N: READ THEN AND NOW. THIS PIECE CANNOT AND WILL NOT STAND ALONE.


Contrasts

Chapter I: Because

There are a lot of things the South offers that the North doesn't. Things like breathing room and sunlight, time to think and fresh ideas, places where the sun's so yellow and the sky's so blue and the grass's so green you swear they came right off the page. A sharp contrast to loud, sharp, fast cities in the North, smothered in grey and smog.

Things like that made living in Georgia different.

Waking up everyday at noon and enjoying the sun cascading through open windows onto your blankets, breathing in the smell of dew- fucking dew!- in clean grass, feeling the warmth from the sun reflecting off every little bit of dew on every little blade of grass. There's a feeling, that this is infinite. That somewhere there is a bit of dew on a blade of grass, sparkling, but not quite in the same way. That is what makes mornings in Georgia infinite.

Fang's tried to explain this to Iggy a thousand times, but there are no words to precisely say what he wants, for how the glare of the dew hits you exactly in the right places, how the clouds seem to be so close and how lovely all the contrast is. He tries, though.

"I mean, there's this one blade of grass," he starts out, squatting down to get a close look, "And the dew is balanced just on the tip, and it's a big drop too. It looks like it's gonna fall off but it hangs in there, and the sun is right behind it. It's like an icicle in the winter, or… no, when the light hits it, a little prism like forms. And this is just one blade of grass, when there are thousands of them in this field and… I dunno, I just like it."

"Why?"

"Because." Fang sighs, "I dunno, I need to build my vocabulary."

"No, it's fine," Iggy says reassuringly. And that is the end of their conversation for a very long time.


A/N: By the way, every chapter title is based on a song from my computer. I hit shuffle and hope I hit something good. So far, I have.

And I promised myself this would not be pointless, so something actually will happen, I swear... we will cut through the fluff...