A/N: Oh yes, and the last song was "Because" by the Beatles.

This one is "Goodnight Goodnight" by Hot Hot Heat.

I suck at updating. Someone slap me.


Chapter II: Goodnight Goodnight

Stars were a new thing. In a city like New York, if you got lucky you'd see a helicopter and mistake it for a star. But now, so far from all the flashing lights, the sky was dotted, literally dotted, with stars. So many if you squinted they'd all blend into one, and it'd be like a giant sun above them all.

Nudge had tried to count them more than once, the highest she ever reached was 3,486, but she wasn't sure if she counted the dim one to the left of the oak tree twice or not, and had to start all over again.

The clouds were pretty rad too. On a good day, they'd come out purple, or sometimes just grey. But the purple ones were something else.

But on days where the clouds were grey or black they were careful not to let anyone wander off, it'd be easy for one of the younger ones to loose their sense of direction in the dark.

Still, the night was alluring, to say the least.

"Hey," Iggy's voice, soft and hushed, wafted through the air just behind Fang. He could see a bit of the blind boy's reflection in the window before him, and his heart couldn't help but flutter a little bit.

"Hi," a slight smile crossed his lips, and he patted the patch of quilt next to him, in case Iggy needed a bit of guidance. Which it seemed he didn't, as he ended up sitting almost directly behind Fang, chest pressed against his back, cheek against his shoulder.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered gently, careful not to wake Gazzy in the next bed, who would only serve as an annoyance in the mellow atmosphere, as hard as it was to admit.

"Nope," he replied, closing his eyes and allowing his muscles to relax as his felt Iggy's fingers moving in slow circles over his arms, "Not a wink."

"I can't either," Iggy gave a weak yawn, to which Fang responded with a soft moan. More than anything else in the world, he treasured Iggy's touch. Soft, sensitive fingers against his rough palms, blonde hair brushing his shoulder, full lips pressed against his…

"Do you miss New York?" He asked with such nonchalance Fang was sure it had to be a lie.

"A little," Fang admitted, "I miss all the activity and stuff. It's so quiet out here, it almost makes me uneasy… Although, I guess it's more relaxing in some ways." The last bit he added for Iggy's sake.

"Mmhmm…" he sighed, "You know what I really miss?"


"Being alone. You know now we're pretty much stuck with them every second of every day, and they're family and everything, but I miss time to think. And I miss being with you a lot too. Not just being chaste and civil with Max and the little ones in the room, but… like this. We don't get this much."

Fang nodded, his head coming to rest in the curve of Iggy's neck, "I know what you mean. I miss us."

"Yeah… but we'll get through. This is better than New York, and Colorado, and especially the School."

Fang couldn't help but shudder at the mention of the name of what he'd come to regard as his own personal hell, for so long they'd dreamed of a place like this. An open sky blurred by stars, and trees that touched the sun. Everything wonderful and pure, the places you'd never dreamed existed.

"I think about it sometimes," Fang admitted in a low voice, "The white hallways and the shots, living the way we did… sometimes it's like a movie. And it's happening to someone else. How could it have been us, hooked up to all those wires and tubes like Frankenstein reincarnated? We're people, not animals… mostly."

"I know, I know," Iggy's voice, so smooth and gentle crept through the most erratic, most irrational parts of his mind and evened them out, like sedatives to a schizophrenic, this was his drug of choice, "But we don't even have to think about that anymore, we're in a good place now. We're safe. Doesn't that count for something?

Fang nodded sleepily, his chin nodding down towards his chest, "I'm sleepy."

"I noticed," even Fang couldn't help but chuckle, "c'mon, lay down, it's late."

Fang obeyed, reluctantly separating from his other half and pulling the covers back far enough for the two of them to slip under. Their legs tangled deep within the sheets, and their heads moved to share the same pillow. Closeness wasn't enough, it was skin to skin, mind to mind, heart to heart, it was automatic.

The issue of sleeping together had only come up once since they'd come to Georgia. Max had given them an early warning about sexual acts with young children in the room. Which was met with an "ew" from both parties, they wouldn't dream of doing that in front of her, let alone Gazzy, he was only eight! Still hardly able to wrap his head around their relationship, let alone even begin to think about what they did in bed.

In any case, it'd never come up again. Thank god.

There was a long space of time when it was just their breath and the rustling of the blankets beneath them, to fend off the cold silence. They didn't need to fill up their conversations with "um"s and "uh"s. Quiet did them just fine.

Then Iggy said something about Max cooking breakfast in the morning when he slept in after such a long night up, and Fang guessed he found that funny because the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was laughing.

A/N: Has anyone ever fallen asleep when you were talking to them? Like in the middle of a sentence? It's very creepy actually.