A/N: sorry about the long time between updates :( I've had writers block. But my stuff on is thriving! I have the same pen name so you can check it out. Please? …please? Oh well. Whatever. And a reminder, this is the prequel to adrenaline rush.

…Two Years Later…

Max and Fang had drifted further as well; their affections were no longer as often or as obvious, and feelings of abandonment still rattled Fang's collectiveness now and then. Those times made it easier to convince himself that he'd imagined everything, to admit his faulty logic. He'd let go. And then every few months, Max came back.

"Do you remember when I first kissed you?"

The two had jetted off for a getaway at the summer home the Flock bought from their trusty, limitless credit card. They were the only ones who had used it in a while.

They were sitting in the living room, enjoying the warm afternoon light that was shining in from the large bay window.

"Tell me about it." she continued.

"About what?"

"About that first kiss."

"It was—awkward."

Max seemed a bit insulted. "Awkward?"

"Well, yes. I wasn't exactly expecting you to kiss me."

"Oh, well," Max said, as if disregarding it. She grinned, flippantly. "But you wanted it."

"Yes." Fang's expression mirrored Max's for a split second, but then turned serious as the aching he felt intensified. He glanced teasingly up at Max, who awaited Fang's next move. Fang knew where he was going with his inquiries, and while he baulked at first, not wanting to let Max take the lead, he was entranced by the way his words could make the singer twist and moan and plead to him.

"I did want it. I wanted more."

Max smiled.

"Such a strange thing, though."

Hours had passed, and both were resting but hardly sleeping. And now that Max had started talking again, there would be little time for shut-eye.

"What's strange?"

"This. You know."

A lurching sensation rippled through Fang's stomach. This. Lying here. Beside each other. Whatever it was. Friendship caught up in the tangled definition of affection. Such a strange thing.

"You know," Max was saying. "Being created by scientists, I guess."

"Oh." Fang's body relaxed, relieved. "You mean mutant?"

Max grimaced, shifting her head to the other side of the pillow. "I hate that word."

"That's what we are, though." Fang rolled onto his back, thankful to have avoided trying to figure out their relationship for one moment. He glanced at the girl beside him, whose chest rose and fell evenly.

Sighing, Max stared contemplatively upwards, not so much at the ceiling, but at the air before it. "It's almost meaningless, if you think about it. There are magazines…" He stole a look at Fang momentarily. "There are magazines that would print every word that we say like it's something really important, just because we were created in a lab."

"That's because they think we're really important."

"Hmm." Max smiled, as if keeping a secret to herself. She divulged lightly, "Most people find me rather annoying. What with my "save the world" thing…"

"I do, for one."

"You do not."

"Of course I do. And look, I still love you." Fang grinned, moving closer to fiddle with Max's light colored locks that fell over her forehead. "No one expects you to be perfect, Max."

"I know…" she sighed, defeated.

Fang paused as his fingers trailed a light line down Max's barely-freckled cheek. "Hey, Max. You all right?"

"'Course." She paused. Max stole a glimpse between the window shades, watching as the sun slowly scaled the pale morning sky. The light cast the room in long, milky-gray shadows. "I have to go to D.C. today."

"Again?" Fang propped himself up with a bent elbow. "Max, we have a speech to finish, remember? And then there's that parent/guardian thing at Angel and Gazzy's school…"

"It's just some conference thing. And Iggy knows what he's doing with those. Nudge, too."

"But we might need you for something."

Max smiled, leaning in to place a light kiss on Fang's cheek. "You can take my part, love."

"Max. That's not the point. You promised."

"It's not my fault, Fang. I can't help it when Washington schedules these meetings. I can't ask them to hold off a vote for global warming awareness because I have to go to Angel and Gazzy's conference thing."

Fang rolled off the bed, shucking on his shirt that he retrieved from over a chair. A sickening feeling seized his stomach. What he wanted was not shallow fulfillment of a lust, which would only leave his soul barren. There had to be more to it. But Max had yet to confess anything to him since that first true time, two years ago, when he himself had laid frozen in shock at the immensity of the moment. Perhaps they'd missed their opportunity.

"Fang? Hey, where are you going? What? Wait--It's—it's not even six, yet!"

The quietist member of the Flock slung on his coat, the car keys jangling harshly in his pocket. "Don't miss your flight, Max."