Thunderstorms

He hated thunderstorms. As if it wasn't already hard enough to sleep. Between the sudden noise and flashes of light, not to mention the waiting on the edge of your seat for the next boom, it was basically a Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder victim's nightmare.

"Fang?"

He turned away from the window, lightning cutting across the sky and illuminating, just for a moment, the figure in the doorway. Rain was lashing against the house and the thunder rattled his bones. It was amazing he had even heard her.

Max took a step forward, closing the door behind her. There was another clap of thunder, and like a bolt of lightning herself, she was on his bed in an instant, already snuggling into his blankets. He wasn't the only one who hated storms.

"Hi, Fang," she whispered from the pillow, face breaking into a smile. "I'm taking over your bed."

Amused, Fang settled back against the headboard and pulled her into his lap. Actually, it didn't take that much effort. She curled as close to him as possible after a particularly loud growl from the clouds outside. He kissed the crown of her head and unfurled his wings, wrapping them around the girl in his arms. Her hair was still damp from the shower, but he didn't mind. Fang had waited way too long for Max to do this than to shy away from something like wet hair. Besides, Max's hair always got so curly when it was damp, not that she ever noticed, and shampoo was definitely a benefit of staying at the Martinez's.

"Does your mom know about this decision?" He grinned, though at the moment, he could care less about what Dr. Martinez thought about. She was asleep down the hall, and Max was here with him.

Max pressed closer to his chest, toying with his feathers and grinning up at him. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat racing.

"What she doesn't know can't hurt her," she whispered, laughing as she kissed his cheek.

On second thought, he realized as they watched the lightning, Max running her fingers through his feathers with her head on his shoulder. Thunderstorms aren't all that bad.

"It's actually kind of peaceful," she murmured. "Quiet. Inside, at least."

"Mhm. Only because Ig and Gazzy are probably using this opportunity to go blow things up in the basement or something."

She snorted. "You kidding me? Angel needed Gazzy who went to find Nudge, who I may or may not have persuaded to bring Iggy to their slumber party in Ella's room."

Meaning Iggy would be waiting, bright and early tomorrow morning, full of eyebrow wiggling and plenty of innuendos that only the older kids would pick up on. That was doable: all Fang had to do was make some off hand comment about how the night was in Ella's room and he'd shut up.

Fang took Max's hand in his, feeling her callused and scarred palm with his thumb. "And Dr. M is still asleep?"

Max leaned into Fang's wing, but she was smiling, meeting his eyes in the darkness. "As far as I know."

He chuckled, pulling her close. "Good."