It's Miggy Time: Wing Man by DZAuthor AKA DZMom

Category:Maximum Ride
Genre:Hurt-Comfort, Romance
Characters:Iggy, Max
Published:2010-12-10 20:28:57
Updated:2010-12-10 20:28:57
Packaged:2021-05-12 13:24:34
Summary:Miggy ONE SHOT. Max POV. This is a little piece that I posted on Max-Dan-Wiz. Rated Teen for kissing. Takes place after FANG the novel. Max has rejected Dylan's advances and is trying to forget that Fang left her.

It's Miggy Time: Wing Man

One Shot. There's a movement afoot in the fandom. Readers are annoyed at Fang, at the authors, because of the ending of FANG the novel. Die hard FAX fans are realizing: It's Miggy Time.

Wing Man

"Get away from me, Dylan!"

Just before I turn away to stomp down the hall, I see the hurt look in his eyes and I am glad. Sometimes I make even myself sick.

Iggy sticks his head out of the doorway of the room that he and Gazzy share. "Everything alright, Max?"

I stop in front of him. His strawberry-blond hair falls over his eyes. I notice that his shirt is crooked, with the top button flapping loosely, and his collar is lopsided. All of the buttons are off by one.

So I push Iggy back into his room and shut the door behind us. I remember that Gazzy is playing with Akila and Total outside, so he won't see what I know would embarrass Iggy. I step closer to Iggy to fix his buttons, starting with the collar. But Iggy backs away as my fingers graze against his throat. His faced turns red.

"Sorry, Iggy. Your buttons aren't straight."

His face gets even redder and he tilts his head down and away from me.

"Hey, I didn't mean you can't dress yourself." Okay. I should just shut up. Poor Iggy is fidgeting now! "Iggy," I lift my hand up to his face, "we all need help sometimes."

Iggy takes my cold hand in his warm hand and presses them both on his cheek. "Yeah, we all need help sometimes."

I gaze into his warm eyes for a moment, as if he can see me. But I break the spell and pull my hand away to start fixing his buttons. I start at the top, unbuttoning and re-buttoning, one by one, gradually making Iggy's shirt lay straight on his sculpted chest. His heart is beating so rapidly, but that's just the bird kid in him. He's so still, reminding me of someone I wish I could forget. And I hold back a sigh, but the pain in my throat is nearly unbearable.

Now that I've reached the bottom of his shirt, I have to pull it up and out, over the top of his torn up jeans, though it was neatly tucked in and held snugly to his waist by his worn brown leather belt. My hands linger on the last button. I am unwilling to leave, so I just stand there and stare at my hands as I pretend to straighten the front of his shirt. But I've already straightened it three times by now.

"Do you need help, Max?" Iggy asks. His arms are hanging straight down at his sides. Not that they're limp. There's a power in each muscle and nerve that would kill a grown man if he was provoked. And in Iggy there's a strength to protect the flock. A strength to keep Dylan away from me. Forever.

But he's waiting for me to answer him. "Me?" My voice falters. I can't buy much more time with Iggy today, can I? I gulp loudly. I don't mean to do it. But I'm holding back so much emotion that my throat is playing renegade and making noise whether I like it or not.

So I decide to be coy. I flip back my hair, which Iggy will never get to see me do. "What do you think?" I finally ask.

Iggy doesn't answer. He just reaches out his hands and he gently feels my hair. His hands glide over my unwashed, droopy mess and then settle firmly on my shoulders. "I think I'm your wing man, now, Max."

"Yeah," I whisper. "I guess you're right." Iggy's my wing man. I don't have to leave his side. He'll be there for me.

Iggy bends his head down. I look at his eyes, and then I focus on his mouth as he whispers, "Do you know how long I've waited to do this?"

I don't get to answer him. His warm lips disappear under my nose and our lips caress each other. I push into his kiss. I want so much more. And Iggy pulls me against his body. My arms circle his waist. I move against him and I feel him respond to me in the way I want him.

When Iggy pulls away, I think I whimper. Because his lips are just above my ear and he whispers, "Don't worry. I'm right here."

I lean on him, not wanting to bear anything alone ever again. And he holds me. He is my rock in my time of trouble. Jeb talked about that once, so long ago, on a Sunday morning when I was still so little.

Iggy's wings extend just a little bit, and I hide in their shelter. I want to melt into him. He kisses the top of my head. My wing man.