A/N: This just popped into my head all of the sudden. Kind of short but whatever. So yeah.
I'm watching Despicable Me. This movie is gold. Top ten favorites fo sho.
Summary: Fang wanted her. It was stupid and illogical, but Fang wanted her. Why was he just realizing this now? Fax. During SOF. One-shot.
Where was it?
Fang hadn't even wanted to do it in the first place. Actually, he had been planning on not doing it, but then he realized he had never thought about it before. So he decided to do it. What else was there to do? If he didn't do it, Anne would sooner or later get a call and Fang would be lectured on how he was playing teenager all wrong. Then Max would bite his head off for not blending well. Which would suck.
He had just done it to humor himself.
But, no. Now he couldn't even find it.
Not only was it not in his possession anymore, but it was somewhere else in Anne's gigantic house. Which meant any one of the others could see it or read it. Or use it against him.
It was all because his teacher had given the students an assignment to make a list of their turn-ons. Okay, not exactly.
Mrs.…What was her name? Fang couldn't remember. It was something weird, like…like…Cheatham? Was that it?
Mrs. Cheatham told the class to compile a list of qualities that their 'ideal significant other' would possess.
What did any of this have to do with getting an education? Fang had never been to school, but he was pretty sure making a list of idyllic features was not math or literature. Fang had figured, why not? He'd never really given any thought to what he wanted in a girlfriend.
He'd never really thought about getting a girlfriend, period. There was always the more impending questions looming over him, like Am I going to live to tomorrow?
But he still hadn't started making the list until Max blew up at him about kissing Lissa. Like, what was that about, anyway? Who was she to yell at him? It was his life, his relationship (but it actually wasn't a relationship, not really). Max was just so boneheaded sometimes. So Fang sat down in his room and made a list.
He couldn't remember all the characteristics he'd put on there. Smart had been one of them. He wasn't going to sit around and talk to a wall. Whoever he was with had to have a brain, and know how to utilize it.
Lissa was smart. She knew all the answers to their history homework (she'd given him half of them; Fang didn't have the Voice to help him to get good grades, like Max). She also wasn't an airhead, like he had learned many of the other girls at his school were.
Fang was pretty sure that nice had made it onto the list. Because, duh, who wanted to date a complete jerk? He got enough of that from Max, 24/7. A nice girl would be a change of pace, for sure.
Where was the list?
He couldn't just wait for someone else to find it. Since this was his life, it would probably be Max who found it. And though it didn't have his name on it, she'd probably know it wasn't Iggy's from the get go, and narrow it down to him when she saw that red hair was on the list.
How about we don't discuss whether it was smart of him to put hair color preferences on the list, okay?
Yeah. If Max found it, he was pretty much screwed.
So, Fang was tearing up the house. Right now, most of the others were outside playing soccer, which was why no one was around to question his frantic searching.
"How do papers just disappear?" Fang grumbled, rifling through the Gasman's backpack which sat on the counter. This was totally something Gazzy would do. He'd take something of Fang's and blackmail him with it. Or just keep it for kicks.
But nothing was in there except for Gazzy's homework and a remote. Fang did not want to know what that remote was for. He carefully zipped the bag back up and backed away from the counter, trying to think of somewhere else he could possibly have left it.
He backed right up into someone. Jumping he turned around to see Max. Her hair was tangled and hanging around her face, and she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. She must've came inside while Fang had been preoccupied looking for…the crumpled piece of paper she was holding.
"I don't know what's worse," she sneered. "That red hair made it on your list at all, or that it's number three."
Fang reached for it but Max quickly jerked it away, stepping back.
"Nice? No one could possibly be nice if they had to put up with you every day," Max continued, shooting him a glance.
Fang made a face. "Yeah, you certainly proved that theory. Give it to me."
Max ignored him and laughed, saying, "Smart? Do you want her to teach you how to spell or something?"
"Well, you're definitely not intellectual."
"Spell intellectual," Max said, glaring at him. Fang glared back, thinking, Touché.
"Oh, and we can't forget adventurous. This list is bogus! Where's must love dogs? You're such a girl."
Fang yanked the piece of paper from Max roughly. "What, are you jealous my list doesn't look like yours?"
"Oh, what does mine look like?" Max retorted, crossing her arms and challenging him.
"One, Fang. Two, Fang. Three, Fang," he smirked, leaning over her, watching her eyes flash. "Should I continue?"
Max stepped away from him. She looked like she was going to say something back, but then the others started trickling into the house, and Gazzy called Max into the living room.
"You're pathetic," Max mumbled.
She walked away and Fang wanted to hit something. She was ridiculous!
Fang's fist crushed the list in his hand as he made his way through the living room, past the others and up to his room.
Why did she feel the need to test his patience all the time? Huh? Why was Max so annoying?
She drove him crazy. She was annoying. She was rude. She liked starting fights with him.
And she wondered why his list didn't include any of her qualities.
It was because they were all bad ones.
Fang went flying to clear his head, to stop thinking about Max being such a butthead. It was around eleven when he got back to the house and swooped into his still-open bedroom window. He could hear voices down the hall and he opened his door, stepping out into the hallway. Everyone should've been asleep. Who was still up? A few doorways away from his own, there was a dim light splashing against the dark wood of the corridor.
He could hear soft voices, but he couldn't pick out words. After a minute of leaning against his doorjamb, trying to decipher what was being said, Fang saw Max leave the room with Angel in her arms. Her arms were wrapped around Max's neck and Max was holding her tight. She carried Angel down the hall in the opposite direction of Fang, whom she hadn't seemed to notice. Max's fingers absently combed through Angel's hair while she gently kicked open the door to her own room.
That was when Fang realized…his list was completely off.
And that was why Max hated his list. Because she knew it was wrong.
• • •
"What'd Cheatham say about your homework?" Max asked Fang the next day, trying to sound indifferent. Fang looked sideways at her. She was looking down at her Algebra book, biting into an apple.
"She said…that it seemed like I had a specific person in mind," Fang said finally.
Max huffed, taking a more violent bite of apple this time. Juice dripped onto her chin and she swiped it away, glancing at him. "I could've told you that. What'd Lissa say when you read it out loud to the class? Did she jump you, or propose or something?"
"You sound pretty bitter," Fang said. "Did you want to read my finished copy?"
"I'd rather drown myself in Anne's pond," Max mumbled, but Fang set the piece of paper down on Max's open textbook anyways and sat back, kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of them.
Max stared down at the paper, then her eyes widened. She set down her apple, wiped her hands on her jeans, and grabbed the paper.
"I tweaked the list a little," Fang said. But that was unnecessary. Max could obviously see that.
"You did not read this out loud," Max said in disbelief. The list in her hands looked like this:
Fang chuckled. That would've been weird. In school, Max and Fang were pretending to be siblings. Talk about gross. Max glared up at him when he started to laugh.
"Are you trying to make fun of me?" Max asked. "You're such a jerk."
What. Just. Happened?
That wasn't supposed to be offensive! It was supposed to be Fang's subtle (cough, cough, subtle) hint that Fang kind of…you know…loved her?
And now she was mad?
How did that even happen?
"No," Fang sighed and reached into his book bag, grabbing the real list he'd read out loud. He handed it to Max.
She looked down at that one, frowning. Then her face changed. Fang couldn't tell what she thought of the list.
"My list was off," Fang said.
"These are horrible traits," Max whispered. "Violent, irrational, insane…what are you thinking?"
"Are you stupid?" Fang stared at her.
"No, you're the one who wants someone violent and irrational and insane-"
Fang pulled her close to him.
"Sound familiar?" he breathed.
"I dunno, Iggy?"
Fang gave her a look.
"You are stupid. And irrational. Insane. Violent. You drive me crazy. You're hilarious, you are beautiful. You suck at cooking. You're incredible, you test my patience. You've almost killed me a hundred times, you've saved my life a million more. You're unpredictable. You're caring and selfless. You're dramatic and irritating. You're perfect. Max…"
"What?" she whispered.
Talk, or act?
Fang made a trademark-Max decision, and swooped in to kiss her, his lips landing on hers firmly.
And, get this: She didn't punch him.
So, that's good.
Pretty much all Fang could ask for. Even though she blushed when he pulled away then sat next to him in silence, Fang felt that it was definitely a step forward.
He'd keep working on it.
A/N: Super short. But the idea wouldn't leave me alone.