A/N

Uhh. Sorry I haven't updated. School started and I was all "NYUUU!"

Enjoy.

More fluffity fluff soon. :D


Comb in one hand, Angel scoured the bathroom drawers for her new hair ribbon, the silky pink beauty she'd received yesterday from Max as a seventh birthday gift accompanying her tattoo coupons.

Angel was surprised at first at the sudden celebration, but she soon picked up on Max's intentions. Even the Flock needs a vacation once in a while.

Crash! Was there a noise coming from downstairs?

She listened. Angel's ears vaguely registered a yelp that sounded like Nudge's. "CREAM CHEESE?"

Huh. Angel must've been imagining things.

Her right hand then revealed a shimmering hair-tie from the depths of Nudge's tacky jewelry box. Angel began brushing her blond curls, eyeing the box with disdain. That girl has no taste.

As she braided her hair, Angel's mind wandered. Max had totally ignored her when Angel corrected her before on her actual birthday: "But… I'm already seven, and I didn't have a party." Max hadn't debated it. Nor had she bothered asking how Angel knew.

Angel recognized this as not good. Max was already forming a clear picture in her mind on who Angel truly was. And Angel needed the "sweet, cute, and innocent" gimmick to go on for her as long as possible. Without it, her plans would be near impossible, they'd crumble. By Max, in particular.

Angel yawned as she fastened her hair with the ribbon, tossing the neat yellow plait over one shoulder. Why was she so tired? It wasn't as if they'd had a rough day of flying the previous day. They'd only had the (admittedly fun) birthday bash, laughing and forgetting all the horrors of being an Avian-American and enjoying their presents and stuffing their faces with cake and Iggy's fudge. Angel had even dismissed her leader-plans for the night.

Ah… Iggy's fudge. Cake. She'd eaten much too much of both. It explained why she had collapsed on her bed while still in shoes, why her small stomach was still so full.

Had Angel helped clean up? No, Max had swept up the mess. Along with Fang, who had joined her midway, sneaking his arms around her waist as she tossed gift-wrap into the garbage. Max jumped in surprise before laughing, kissing him with a hint of birthday ice cream still on her lips. Fang informed Max he just realized how tasty chocolate (his) and strawberry (hers) ice cream were together. She punched him playfully, and they set off to cleaning the room.

Angel had been near asleep when she got note of Max and Fang's thoughts from the living room, but they were so strong (read: overly sappy) that they'd managed to intrude into her brain, even in its groggy state.

She'd shut out their romantic blah to get some sleep.

Now, though, Angel regretted not staying up to help. Angel sweeping the house tidy while Max dozed would make an excellent impression on the rest of the Flock. Unfortunately, Angel hadn't thought of that when her head had been so clogged by cake.

Angel finished brushing her teeth and tugged on a flowery jumper, flouncing downstairs with an actual smile. Iggy's fudge does wonders to your spirit, she thought.

Her smile quickly disappeared, though. Angel was greeted with a powder-caked Iggy, a sticky Gasman, and a furious Nudge with cream cheese strung in her hair. The kitchen was a disaster: the floor was coated with a fine layer of sugar, there were puddles of syrup and jam on the floor, and the walls were dotted with egg yolks.

To top it all off, Max and Fang were sitting (awfully close) together at the kitchen table, Max leaning towards Fang far enough to fall into his lap, both with rosy faces and – ick! – the exact same jelly-and-sugar-mixture on their mouths. Fang was musing about their make out session inside that dark head of his. Angel really hated her mind-reading abilities sometimes.

Her "sweet n' cute!" façade could be on hold for another minute.

Angel narrowed her eyes and placed her small hands on her hips, balling her fingers into fists. Her acid gaze was directed towards Max. "What happened?"