The clock read six thirty in the morning when my droopy eyes managed to peek at the bureau, and I reburied my face into my pillow. Max want more sleep.

"Mmmph…" I rolled over in my bed, my wings a mass of white and brown feathers tangled in my bed sheets.

"Wake up, sleepy head," came a low whisper in my ear, and I panicked, my arms flailing in midair.

"What the… who? Fang!" My head shot up to see a smirking teenage boy sitting beside my curled up self, his knee against my thigh. Around fifteen years old, 'bout six foot tall, scruffy black hair nearing his shoulders, muscles obvious: he's pretty much every girl's dream. Only I'm in luck! Fang's mine. He was in sleep clothes: only boxers and the usual black t-shirt. Yum.

On a side note, I didn't think of him that way when he whispered all stalker-like into my ear. He was more the obnoxious, twelve-year-old best friend of mine who's the only living soul that can creep up on Maximum Ride. He is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Silent, after all. And this is coming from the mutant bird girl who has raptor vision and super hearing.

"Fang, any reason why you're – " – I yawned – " – waking me up now? It's like six in the morning."

His stoic face revealed a hint of amusement when he told me, "Max, I don't know what you've been smoking, but it's about nine thirty."

"Go jump in a lake. Or, more fittingly, go smoke a joint," I retorted, weakly. I checked the clock again. "Oh." Stupid six and its resemblance to nine. Love is blind? How about a sleepy Max?

Fang pushed my bangs out of my face (which had gotten there because I'm the restless sleeper of the century) and planted a kiss on me, out of the blue. I was surprised at first: I established a kiss-after-brushing-your-teeth policy after we became… you know, but I kissed him back a second later, my hands clutching the bed comforter.

After he pulled away, I asked, breathless, "What was that about?"

Fang gave me one of his amazing genderbent-Mona-Lisa-smiles, making my heart jump a bit. "I don't know. I just felt like it. I remembered how beautiful you are." His finger began tracing my jaw, and I watched, too groggy to tease him. Also, so much affection was trapped into his voice that I just felt like kissing him again. Aww.

I mustered enough strength to sit up before I (purposefully) fell into Fang's lap, my back against his chest. His arms wrapped around mine when I said, "You high? Beautiful? Me?"

I felt the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck as he murmured, "Duh."

Gesturing towards my matted hair, I asked, "Even with my bedhead?"

Fang began combing my blond snarls with his fingers, holding up strands to see how sunlight reflected off of them. "Even with your bedhead."

Fang was the only one who could ever make me feel beautiful. I mean, in all honesty, when you're on the run from evil mad scientists taking over the world you don't get much time to spare yourself a glance in a mirror.

But I'll take Fang's word for it.

I encircled my arms around his neck and jerked them downwards to have both of us fall onto pillows, laughing. I then lay my head on his chest and whispered, "Fang, sleep with me."

And no, you pervs in the back (I know you're here), not in that way.

"We should be waking up, unless you prefer eating breakfast at noon. Why are you still tired anyways?"

"I was up late. And I just feel like relaxing," I replied, adjusting my position on top of Fang/the bed for ultimate comfort.

"You're not very good at that. You're Max the drill sergeant, remember?" He laughed as I smacked him upside the head.

"Shut up. Either go make me some breakfast like a good boyfriend or sleep here with me," I ordered, putting on a stern face with difficulty.

"You just proved my point."

Another smack from me. Another laugh from him. "I hate you."

Fang kissed the top of my forehead, resulting in my pouty lip turning into a shy smile. "I love you too, Max."