Hey. It's been forever. Here's the last bit! Enjoy.

I'm gonna be fat. That's my plan now, I'm gonna stuff my face with bacon and ice cream until my stomach explodes. At least death by bacon would be a gloriously wonderful way to go. It's has been an hour and a half since Max left with he-who-shall-not-be-named, and I have finished off two tubs of Ben and Jerry's and a bag of bacon. My acclaimed (yay big word, point Fang) six pack has now been stuffed into a three and a half pack. Don't ask how you can have a half pack, it just happened. "Ugh," I groan, I'm not sure I can take much more, more ice cream that is. But I'm the amazing and wondrous Fang, and bacon is no enemy. Determined to eat as much as I can I continue to stuff my face, trying to drown my despair in greasy food.

My plan was going quite well, down to two packs now, until the door slammed. I heard stomping that could only be caused be combat boots, or an elephant on steroids. I strain my ears a little towards the door of my room, hoping I can catch a word of what Max seems to be mumbling.

"Stupid... ridiculous.. error of judgement.. strangle him." Well, I smile a little. Couldn't have been a good date. Part of me wants to storm out and tell Max how I told her so, well most of me that is, but I look down at my stomach and see only half a pack remaining and make the decision to only leave my room after I got at least four packs back. Worst decision of my life.

OoOoOo

"Hey Max," I saunter into the living room. "How was your date?" I sneer the last word, barely able to contain myself. I was sore all over, and I was pretty sure the back of my head was bruised from sit ups, but I feel so much better. Almost even great, but Fang doesn't feel great.

"Fine," Max murmurs, I can't see anything but the dirty blonde of her hair because she keeps her head down and eyes trained on her shoes. I sit down on the love seat across from where she is perched on the couch, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. Honestly speaking I don't think I've smiled so much all my life, but Max's date sucked! If that wasn't a reason to crack a grin what would be?

"Come on, give me all the details. Is he a good kisser?" I mimic Nudge's voice, squealing a little more than necessary. Max smirks a little bit before tilting her head up to look me in the eye.

"Is there a particular reason you're so happy?" She blushes a little bit and suddenly it's kind of hard to breathe.

"Not really," I finally manage to stutter out.

"I guess I just wanted this to be the First Date. The one where everything goes perfectly, but I guess to go on a perfect date you have to be with the right guy." Swallow, breath, blink repeat. I have to remember to do these simple things. The right guy, it could be me right? I try not to get my hopes up to high but it's kind of hard when she's staring at me with those big doe eyes, and her hair is just catching the fading sunlight.

"I get it, I wouldn't want to go out with anyone but my perfect girl," I hope she can understand the signals I'm trying so desperately to send her, but at the same time I pray she doesn't. She smiles, a real smile, a really big smile.

"Who's your perfect girl?" I gulp, not knowing what to say. Until I hear a little snigger from the corner, and see four heads poking out from behind the wall. Suddenly I feel both embarrassed and grateful, at least I didn't have to answer her question. Pushing myself up from the seat I ignore Max's quiet giggles (since when did Max giggle) and stalk over to the four little troublemakers, who were all smart enough to run back into their rooms. All except Angel, who greets me with a big smile. It worries me.

"Sorry Fang, but I had to do it," She says innocently. Oh gosh what did she do? She smiles and disappears behind the corner, giggling all the way. I turn back to Max, who looks at me no less curiously than before.

"So?" She continues, a slightly scary glint in her eyes. "Who's your perfect girl? What's she like?"

"Ummm ummm," I stammer, unable to get the words that have been stuck in my throat for the last couple of months. What should I say? Why are my palms sweaty? Where is the bacon?

"Is she blonde?" Max asks. I nod, feeling utterly demented and speechless. "Does she like combat boots?" Swallow. Nod. "Does she have wings?" Nod.

"I'm gonna guess Angel told you. And don't worry I promise I won't let it affect our friendship, or the kids. I'm sorry about it, I'm sure the feelings will go away... eventually," I trip over my own tongue, trying to fix the problem when a miracle happens. She leans in and kisses me. Slow and soft and perfect in every way. I feel like I'm hallucinating, probably cause of the bad bacon. Thank god for bacon (and meddling girls).

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