Hey gaiz :)

So I guess I'm still trying to cheer myself up from the book Angel: AMRN. It wasn't so bad; I just can't accept the fact that Fang and Max were so…distant. Like the connection they once had was all gone. :( Or as Max likes the put it, "The end of Max and Fang forever."

I feel like there's still something missing…but I can't quite put my finger on it. Anyways, I feel like you guys deserved something 'cause I won't be posting a chapter for 'Secrets and Lies' this week.

Anyways, I hope this makes you smile, and laugh, and squeal because I did all 3 of those and I wrote the story. Haha!

I got this idea from a friend of mine btw, but I completed the thought and made it a reality. :)

Need to know: Set in the year 2017. Max is 22 years old. She saved the world, she's fine with her parents, she's getting married.

YOU GUYS BETTER REVIEW because I assure you you guys would love this and if you love it, you better show it some love. ;)

I swear, this is one of my favorites FO'SHO. I hope you guys enjoy this too!

- - - - -O- - - - -

I kept playing with my fingers, twisting my engagement ring and fingering the soft, silky material of my wedding dress.

Yeap, you heard me.

I was getting married today.

I never thought this day would come. And not in the way every other girl thinks that they'd never find the man of their dreams, but because I didn't think I'd actually live this long.

It was a sad thing to believe in, but it was true.

I saved the world when I was 16. Fell in love that same year. Got engaged when I was 20. Finished college when I was 21.

And here I am now, 22 years old and ready to walk down the aisle.

…

Who am I kidding? I wasn't ready; in fact all I felt was fear.

Nudge, Angel and Ella – all of whom were bridesmaids – left this room just a few minutes ago, giving me some time to myself. Some time to reflect about what I was doing, to accept what was going to happen, and to think about the future.

And some time to start panicking and doubting whether I go through with this or not.

All my jumbled-up thoughts seemed to disappeared though as soon as I heard the door to the room open.

"Hey Fang." I said quietly, already knowing who it was without having to look up from my hands on my lap. He made his way to where I was, dragging one of the hotel's cushioned, mahogany chairs next to mine, and quietly took a seat.

None of us talked for a few seconds, and I could bet you that he was absorbing the whole situation as well.

"Nice dress." He finally spoke up and I looked down at myself.

I'm still unable to comprehend how Nudge got me to wear this. After much convincing that this would be the last time she would get to choose what I would wear (though I didn't believe her), and that this was my wedding (Can you imagine me wearing a hoodie and ripped jeans at the altar? Not that far-fetched, actually…), I gave in and let her plan my whole outfit.

"Nice tux." I replied back, taking in how good he looked in it. It was strange to see him wearing a white button down polo underneath, but it still looked amazing on him. He just looked good in anything.

"Love the way it fits you." He smirked, eyeing the tight bodice of my dress that accentuated my curves.

Nudge designed my whole outfit, sketching it down to every last pleat and lace pattern. It was a corset-type dress with no straps, that poufs up into a petticoat of lace and silk staring from my hips. She'd even took into consideration my wings, having the tailors sew slits into the back.

How nice of her to care about the comfort of my wings while I suffocated in my constricting wedding dress.

"You really think so?" I said seductively, putting my hands on my waist and giving him an exaggerated pout that was supposed to look sexy. I couldn't believe I was flirting with Fang right now, right before my wedding, but whenever I was with Fang I could do and be anything I wanted to be.

He laughed, actually laughed, and I smiled to myself because it filled the air with its beauty. Fang's laughter was something rare, and whenever I was able to make him do so, it took my breath away.

"You don't look so bad yourself." I took in his whole appearance now, mesmerized. His tux fit him perfectly, putting emphasis to his broad shoulders and toned body. If he stood up now, I knew I would have to look up to him, even if I was 5'9 and in heels, compared to his 6'4. Throughout his life he kept his hair shaggy, but today it was brushed back and styled. I was really impressed.

"You look beautiful," He said suddenly, his voice holding a different tone, and when I looked up from his body (can you blame me for ogling?) into his eyes, they conveyed so much meaning – love, care and so much more emotions I couldn't place, it was hard to look away, "Your fiancé's a lucky man."

I laughed breathlessly and punched his arm, unable to understand how he could joke at a time like this.

"Are you ready?" he asked me after the laughing died down. I wanted to tell him yes but…

I shook my head, giving Fang a sad smile. I really wasn't sure if I was.

I looked down at my lap again, going back to what I was doing before Fang came. Twisting my engagement ring on my finger, mind drifting elsewhere, my hand was suddenly pulled away from my lap and I gasped in surprise.

I looked at Fang with wide eyes and he shot me a small smile full of reassurance, the kind that made the world spin a little bit faster.

My mind couldn't help but flash back to all those times Fang had me.

To when we were 8 and he reached his hand through the bars of his dog crate to hold mine as I cried, after I'd just been experimented on.

To when we were 14 and he grabbed my hand as we sat on tree branches, telling me without words that he would be there for me always.

To when we were 16 and he held my hand, taking in the mess and destruction and the loss of allies when we finally saved the world.

And even now, he intertwined our fingers and squeezed my hand, telling me things were going to be alright.

He was the only person in the world who would've known that I was afraid of the unknown and uncertainty of the future. While everyone else was excited and happy for me about my wedding, I started to hesitate.

I wasn't used to something permanent, something sure. A wedding symbolized a future set in stone, with a job and kids and everything, when all my life I've been running, moving from place to place and changing before time could change itself.

I just. Wasn't. Sure.

The only constant in my life was the flock, was Fang.

No matter what problems and situations I've gotten myself into, he's always been the one who helped me out, who made me believe things could get better.

Who held my hand through it all.

I couldn't believe it. Even now he was here, reassuring me when he should've already been at the cathedral.

Sighing, I squeezed his hand once and let go, leaned forward with my palm on my cheek, elbow resting on my knee. It was quite difficult since my dress hugged all my curves, making it impossible to breathe (courtesy of Nudge), but I eventually managed since I wasn't allowed to lie down or lean my head back on anything (Nudge would kill me if my hair got ruined).

It didn't quite have the effect of distressed bride-to-be though, because the next thing I knew, my cheek had slipped off my palm since it was so sweaty with nerves and my face fell onto the poufy lace of my dress, stunning me.

I sat up quickly and blinked a few times, pretending not to be too embarrassed by what just happened, when I noticed Fang cough to clear his throat.

When I turned around to face him, to ask if he needed a glass of water, I noticed that he was trying not to laugh, disguising his chuckles with coughs and covering his smiling mouth with his hand. I shot him my death glare.

"What's so funny, Fang?" I spat, leaning back on my chair and crossing my arms over my chest.

He was still smiling, something he rarely does which meant that he found me so darn hilarious, and still held a tinge of amusement when he said, "Why did I date you?"

You could just imagine the smoke coming out of my ears at that statement.

I felt my face heat up, felt the adrenaline course through my veins with fury. "Believe me, I ask myself the same thing, Mr. Emotionless Brick Wall." I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him and knowing that we were going to start bickering just like old times.

Admittedly, that wasn't the most reeling comeback I've ever come up with, but I was 22 now and I've grown up some. I was not the 14-year old girl who threw sarcasm left, right and center anymore.

"And is there something wrong with that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. I paused for a moment, realizing how good he looked doing something as simple as raising his eyebrow but then I cleared my head and rolled my eyes.

It was so on.

"Hell yeah there is! You're so quiet all the time it…it pisses me off!" Oh God, I was losing my wit… "Yeah, and…and I hate that you wear black." I loved that he wore black. "What're you? Emo?" I questioned, and he suddenly got that smart aleck look on his face.

Crap.

"Well I guess I'm so mute so that it can balance out your incessant nagging all the time. And the last time I checked, I wasn't the one who tried to kill myself with a seashell." He smirked again and I swear, I practically saw tiny bonfires in my eyes. Fang always liked to get me riled up.

"Oh quit being so smug. You've become so cocky-"

"I have, haven't I?" There it was again – that smug smirk perpetually plastered onto his face. The tone of his voice insinuated something and I gasped with realization.

"You dirty little douche bag!" I called him, and he just grinned even wider.

Kids, there will come an age when 'That's what she said' jokes will apply to everyday phrases. Even the most innocent sentences could be turned around maliciously and every little double meaning resulted in a green joke. This was one of those instances.

"I'm sorry for thinking so inappropriately, darling. Let me reprimand the person who raised me. Oh wait, it's you!" He said sarcastically. I lost my temper and stood up from the chair, standing in front of him. I totally put a whole new meaning to the term "blushing bride" what with my flushed face due to anger.

"Hey, watch who you're talking to."

"Someone needs an attitude adjustment." He said with that annoying smirk still on his face; I wanted to rip his lips off.

"Psh! Honey, you love my attitude! My snark, sarcasm, wit – that's what made you fall in love with me." Finally – redemption. His eyes flashed with annoyance and I grinned back at him. Bring it on, Fnick.

He continued to stare at me, his dark eyes practically burning holes into my own. I bet he was still thinking of a good comeback (Ha!) and was trying to intimidate me. It was a little unnerving, but I wasn't backing down.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh stop looking at me like you're trying to give me the flippin' winning numbers to the lottery tomorrow, you creep."

"Oh you're not that lucky, Max."

I gave him a pointed look that clearly said, 'That the best you got?', and he stood up too and hurriedly thought of something to throw at me.

"Well, you…you have bony toes!" Clearly, I wasn't the only one who was out of practice with comebacks. I snorted, completely destroying the image of the ideal refined bride.

Screw manners. I'm Maximum Ride. All manners were thrown out of the window 10 years ago.

"At least I'm not the freak who looks at other people's toes! And I…I hate your hair!" I snapped back.

This argument was so immature, I swear, 6 years of education and etiquette just went down the drain.

Fang seems to always bring the 14-year old out of me, and though I knew this argument was a complete joke and wouldn't actually be taken to heart, it was a good distraction that helped me take out all my pent-up stress and emotions. I think Fang knew I needed this.

"At least mine sticks to one color! What's yours? Blondish-brown caramel with sun streak highlights and a hint of chocolate in it?" He exaggerated the tone to his voice towards the end, something I've never hear Fang do before that he almost rendered me speechless. You could see he was on the verge of laughing but he kept his face straight, going along with it.

"There's nothing wrong with that! Besides, you love my hair. Especially when you run your fingers through it." I smirked and he narrowed his eyes in return.

"Fine. Well then I'll cut my hair, mom, since it bothers you so much."

"Oh, you go do that." I said with a saccharine smile just to piss him off further.

"Shut up."

"Well sometimes you need to be told what to do."

A silence ensued for a moment as this all sunk in. We were both trying not to laugh as we smiled like crazy at each other, seeing each other as Max and Fang, 2 best friends who would tease each other just for the heck of it. Just to make the other smile.

I was overlapping the old memories with the present, of the 2 of us standing as we were now, bickering about the most shallow and stupid things.

A second later, Fang got that look on his face again, the kind that told me he just got an idea, and I braced myself.

"You're not even a really good kisser." Ooh, burn.

Without skipping a beat, I replied, "And yet you keep coming back, don't you Fang? Face it, I stole your first kiss, you loved it, and you kept coming back for more." I grinned at him, and if looks could kill, I would've been a pile of ashes in four inch heels.

"Well that's not really a bad thing, seeing as yours wasn't even memorable."

"Of course I remember my first kiss," I scoffed. I so did not remember my first kiss…

"Then what was his name, genius?" he grinned this time and I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

Uhh...umm…"His name just escapes me at the moment. That's all." I put my hands on my hips.

He strode forward until I backed up against the wall. "Whatever. You're just jealous I'm a hit with the ladies."

"Since when were we talking about my jealousy-!" I shrieked, shoving him off and continuing to pace the length of the room.

"Oh, so you admit. You were jealous." Must…resist urge…to punch…his face…

"Oh yes. I was so damn jealous because with my long hair and girl parts, I surely wanted to attract 'the ladies'." I nodded with wide eyes, sarcasm dripping with each word.

My goodness, this argument didn't even make sense…

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Besides, how many people ever fell head over heels for you?"

"There was that one guy, and you. Actually, not including you since you fell way past your heels for me." I winked at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. I still win."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know this was a competition. Besides, that one guy made a move on me. At least I wasn't an idiot for falling for the Red Haired Wonder and Dr. Amazing." I teased him, but he was grinning.

"Just like I'm an idiot for falling for you, babe!"

My triumphant face suddenly turned into a glare and I came to stand in front of him. "You don't know how much I hate you right now," I hissed, but really, I wanted to burst out laughing.

"Nah, you looove me. You love me this much!" he repeated the exact words I said 8 years ago, when I was having a chip removed from my arm.

Oh no, he di'int.

The laughter and happiness went out of me, replaced by true anger and embarrassment. My smile left my face and I felt my eye twitch, not believing that he just brought up the Valium Incident.

No one brings up the Valium Incident of '09.

With a strangled battle cry, I attacked him, pushing at his shoulders with force and shoving him harshly backwards.

I could tell that he didn't expect that, because he barely had time to put up his arms and protect himself. I was able to claw him harshly on his shoulders and upper arms (yes, claw; I would've punched him but explaining that Fang fell on his face on his way to the church would've been a little suspicious), and I may have even stepped on him for good measure, but soon he was able to process what was happening and he fought back.

And oh, did he fight back well alright.

You're probably thinking, "What? Fang would hit a girl? What a dick!" But I actually liked the fact that he wasn't afraid to hit me. Even when we were dating, he would still punch back or shove playfully (and painfully) because we were best friends.

I didn't want to be treated different just because I was a girl. Fang knew I was tough – one of the best fighters in the flock – and he knew that I would've felt worse if he treated me like I wasn't strong enough.

Shoving me off him, I snarled and proceeded to try to punch him, but he methodically blocked each and every one of them, knowing me too well. Dammit.

Giving all I've got, I even tried to get a spinning hook kick to his face (in four inch heels, in my hundred pound dress whilst trying to keep the 46 bobby pins in my hair intact), risking giving him a pantyshot and successfully raising my leg 120 degrees in all my ruffles and lace glory, but he ducked unbelievably fast and was able to grab my shoulders. I tried clawing him again, dragging down my fingers on the side of his neck, and I smirked. Feel the wrath of my perfectly manicured nails!

He grabbed my arm and was about to twist it behind my back when I went with it, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, and completing the turn successfully as though we were dance partners in a competition. I miscalculated my spinning though because I ended up wrapped in his arms, restraining me from getting a good punch in.

Since I never fought fair, I was about to bite his arm or swing back my leg to crack his nuts (if you get what I mean), when we heard hurried footsteps in the hallway outside, coming this way…

Looking into each others eyes in panic, we immediately shoved each other away as though the other were toxic and stood as naturally as we could (even with our messy hair, wrinkled clothes, heavy breathing, obviously-not-innocent look, we could still pull it off, right?), only a few feet apart, as the door opened.

Aww fuck. We're screwed.

I knew I was going to be in deep shit, (Read the above paragraph. Sounds like we just made out, aye? That's what I would assume if I was the one who walked in.) but I couldn't help but smile to my self at what just happened. It was like my mind flashed back again and we were both in our dirt-streaked clothes, physically fighting each other for the laptop, running for our lives for Pete's sake and yet we still argued about the smallest things. We were so much like our 14-year old selves, it made me miss those days.

At that moment, Jeb strode in, looking stressed and never taking his eyes of his wrist watch as he talked to me.

"Max, sweetie, you should get down to the-" And when he looked up, he finally noticed the person standing next to me as he ran his hands through his hair, trying to fix the disheveled mess.

Here it comes…

I looked towards Fang and gave him a small smile, saying through my eyes, "Oh wells…" and shrugging. He smiled back at me.

At least we were going down together.

"Max, Fang!" Jeb scolded, the tone to his voice sounding exactly like the time we locked Gazzy in the tool shed when we were 10. It looked like he was ready to rip his greying blond hair from his scalp at our foolishness, and that made me smile even more.

"Don't you know that it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?"

- - - - -O- - - - -

If you didn't get why their arguments were so juvenile, is because they're older now and they kinda lost their snark. (LOL. :D) And also because they were really just kidding each other. Who talks about someone else's bony toes and hair in a fight anyway?

Review 'cause I know you want to… :)

Peace out.

.: Tiffany :.