Max POV

Max POV

I didn't know what was happening. Truth was, I didn't care. It was awesome. It was electric. It was just… right.

Fang was lying beside me, and I couldn't get enough. I wanted him. I wanted everything about him. His silence. His voice breaking his silence. His eyes. His smile. Oh, God, those lips, so perfect.

We were made for each other.

Next morning

I was happily eating breakfast that Iggy had cooked, taking advantage of the suite kitchen. We were staying in a hotel, using the good ol' credit card. Hasta la vista, pokey pine needles! Helloo, 4-star hotel suite!

Fang came and sat next to me, giving me a special smile. I'd been nervous about what he would say, do, or whatever because of last night, but there wasn't anything like that between us. There wasn't anything at all between us. We were one.

"So," I said conversationally, savoring the bacon. Charred, not chewy. Yeah, I'm Bond, James Bond or whoever said that 'shaken, not stirred' thing. Whatever.

"So," he said back. Normally, his reluctance to actually talk like a normal human being (I made a joke there, see? Human? And we're not human? Get it? …never mind,) irritated me, but I found it delicious at the moment.

"Great night, huh?" He was silent again, but I could tell something was wrong.

"Max… I don't think I used protection last night," he said. I stared at him blankly.

"What?" I said, confused. He gave me a bland look, but I detected a trace of guilt and fear behind it. He glanced over at the others to make sure they weren't in earshot. They were in the living room, shouting at the T.V., blissfully unaware of Fang and me.

"Um… when people do what we did, they're supposed to wear something… in between, to keep the girl from getting… pregnant." He said the last word so fast, it took me a moment to process it. I could feel the look of sheer horror creeping across my face like a child's nightmare blossoming in the moment between sleep and consciousness (fancy that, I'm a poet and you didn't know it).

"You- you mean, I'm… pregnant?!" I whisper-shouted at him. It was surprising that there weren't holes burning in his eyes from the look I was giving him.

"No, no, it's unlikely… I mean, the chances are really, really slim about you actually becoming… you know. You're enough bird to only… ahh, 'go into heat' once every six months, right? Angel asked me about it when she heard you thinking about it. So it can't happen. It won't," he said firmly. He was so confident, I couldn't doubt him.

Two weeks later

I didn't feel right. Not sick, just… not right. You know, just before you get the flu, you feel fine, but something is off? Yeah. I grabbed a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, hoping I wasn't going to get sick. On a whim, I bought a pregnancy test at the grocery store beside the hotel (a different hotel- we kept moving, of course) and shoved it under all the food. Just in case.

I got back to the hotel, and snuck it into the bathroom. I quickly scanned the directions, and followed them. Before I looked at the label-thingie, I took a deep breath. Fang is right, you're fine, what's the chances.

Actually, considering what didn't start when it was supposed to, a week after it happened, there's a large chance… a little bit of my brain whispered. Not the Voice, just me thinking.

Shut up, I told it. I couldn't wait any longer. I looked.

And almost screamed.

Three weeks later

Fang and I were sitting on swings in the local park, just moving slightly back and forth. Not really rocking up and down, just drifting. We were holding hands. The kids were playing on the jungle gym, their loud laughter and shouts covering up our words.

"I love you, Max," Fang said. I smiled at him, squeezing his hand. I decided to tell him, but my stomach was in knots. Nerves, those stupid butterflies in my gut. He smiled back, and leaned in to kiss me.

Right then, my stomach roared, and I threw up, barely missing him. He pulled back, his emotionless face showing a slight hint of surprise.

"Max, Max, are you okay?" he said quickly, pushing my hair out of my face. I looked up at him, my face ashen. To my horror, I started to cry.

"No, I'm not. Fang, I'm pregnant."

Eight months later

I was lying in bed, my face beaded in sweat. Dr. Martinez, or Mom, was standing next to me, whispering encouragement and instructions. I nodded, closing my eyes in pain. Then Fang was there, holding my hand.

"C'mon, Max, you've been through worse. You can do it."

His words cleared my head, and I nodded, glad he was there.

"Yeah, I can."

One hour later

They were two little bundles in my arms, wrapped up in blankets. One girl, and one boy. Two noses, four eyes, two mouths, and four wings. Fang was looking proud, staring down at them. His children. My children.

The girl had black hair and dark eyes, just like Fang. The boy was blond, with brown Bambi eyes staring up at me sleepily.

"The boy is going to be called Ari," I declared quietly. A shadow passed across Fang's face, but he smiled and nodded.

"The girl is Nikki," he said. I snickered, remembering when he was 'Nick', my foster brother. After all, Fnick is superman.

Two years later

Jeb said Anne mysteriously disappeared a couple years ago. So, he bought her house and gave it to me, 'as a present,' he said. He had that look, like he knew something I didn't, and it was irritating me.

Angel and Nudge were babysitting Ari and Nikki, while Fang and I went out to dinner. Angel was sure to dress me all up nice before, and I came out of the bathroom in a mist of perfume and make-up to see Fang. In a suit.

"What are you wearing?!" we both said at the same time. Okay, confession time- I was in a skinny little black dress, with ruffles at the bottom (just above my knees) and two spaghetti straps on the top. Yeah, ugh.

We went to the restaurant, all fancy-shmancy, and enjoyed a delicious dinner. Fang was a real gentleman; he cut up my steak for me and poured me wine (sure, we're too young to drink in human years, only 17, but my maturity level was about that of a twenty-year-old). Then, to my surprise, he got down on one knee in front of me.

I didn't know any special tradition thingies, having grown up in a lab, but Jeb must've tutored him. So when he got down in front of me, I was expecting him to grab me and fly me through the ceiling to escape erasers or something. I eyed him suspiciously as he pulled out a small, silk box.

"Max," he said, voice soft and sweet. "Will you marry me?"

I swear, my jaw hit the floor. Woo, didn't see that coming. Crap! What do I do? What do I say?!

Usually, one just says 'yes', the Voice, aka Jeb put in.

Right.

"I- yes, Fang, yes!" I allowed him to slide the ring onto my shaking finger before throwing myself at him, bowling him over into another table with the force of my hug.

The manager rushed out, along with a couple of waiters. His face turned red so fast, I thought it was going to explode. I surveyed the damage.

They really shouldn't put tables that close. Just like dominos, there was a line of about five tables tipped over. Expensive glass and wine was scattered all over the floor.

"Security!!" the manager bellowed. I glanced at Fang, who looked back.

"Well, isn't this so much like old times," he said. I smiled, grabbing his hand.

"Let's blow this joint."

So we did. Up and away, through the skylights into the moonlight.