Foolish Pranks by St. Fang of Boredom

HELLO HELLO HELLO DEAR READERS!

Long time, no type. I apologize. I'd explain my long absence from fanfiction writing (or writing in general), but I'm sick of explaining myself. I give up. I can't update worth crap, I rarely finish what I start, I work too much, and I'm tired all the time.

And I've developed a SuperWhoLock addiction. It's not helping.

But here it is, my first finished fanfiction piece in months. I don't know who will read it, but chances are someone will, and I hope you enjoy it, whoever you are. I was cool once, but now I'm not and I don't have the same silly expectations as I once did.

But, though I may not be the person I once was, exactly, I am still St. Fang of Boredom.

And it is not a Saint fic without two things.

One, Fang.

...

Fang?

FANG!

Fang: WHAT?! I swear to God, if this is about eyeliner again-

Me: It's an Author's Note, Fang! A proper Author's Note!

Fang: Oh, you're actually updating something... Shocker. ...It's not that Fylan bromance thing that's basically an Ode to Tumblr, is it?

Me: ...

Fang: Thought so.

Me: I put a lot of research into this fic! I had to use Google! I had to nearly choke on a sandwich! I had to get a hangover!

Fang: The hangover was your stupidity, not fic research.

Me: ...It was informative, nonetheless.

Fang: How about we skip to part two of the Author's Note. This is taking forever and people have been waiting.

Me: Fine...

In Case The World Doesn't End in a Martian-Induced Zombie Apocalypse Tomorrow... The Disclaimer! (If it does, please disregard and go buy yourself a decent shovel): I don't own Maximum Ride. I borrow Fang without James Patterson's knowing or intention of returning, but that still does not constitute ownership (according to Fang). I don't own any TV shows, books, etc referenced here including The Hobbit, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Adam Levine, Justin Bieber, or The Lion King. I don't own Tumblr, Tumblr owns me.

Notes (READ ME): Takes place after FANG, as if Fang didn't leave.

And now, le fic.

Third Person POV

It all started as a simple enough prank.

After the Flock had been enrolled in the government-chosen private school for the "gifted" (a.k.a. kids with issues that the government is responsible for), the rivalry between Fang and Dylan escalated to unbelievable heights. Max was already fed up enough with Dylan's sickening obsession with her, but Fang's behavior had her in a state of disbelief. No matter how much she tried to convince him that she had no interest in Dylan, he couldn't seem to stop picking fights with the newest Flock member.

It was this constant need to one-up the other that eventually led to the formation of a plan. Dylan, being the handsome social butterfly that he was, had been much more successful at making friends than Fang had. Most of the students at the private school avoided Fang, seeing him as anti-social; not to mention his obvious dislike of the popular Dylan didn't win him any friends easily. It was Dylan's circle of friends that came up with the idea; nothing but a simple and relatively harmless prank. Just something to make Fang look stupid in front of Max, that was all. Dylan agreed without more than a second of hesitation.

Dylan, as a peace offering after another one of his and Fang's more heated arguments, invited Fang to a party his friend was throwing at his house. Fang was not one for parties anyway, and one where his only familiar company would be Dylan was even less inviting. But Max encouraged him to go, hoping to promote some sort of friendship, or at least peace between the two boys. Dr. Martinez backed the idea as well, believing it would help work on Fang's nearly non-existent social skills.

So, relunctantly, Fang allowed himself to be dragged to his doom.

Dylan's friends put on a great act of being excited to have Fang there. They insisted he try their food, sit on the couch with them... They even tried to strike up conversations with him, not that they ever got past a couple sentences.

And then, someone suggested they play "a game"...

It was way too easy. Two vodka bottles. One filled with water, the other filled with the real deal. Dylan took a couple shots of the water with his friends while Fang glared at them from the couch. Then, Ryan, one of Dylan's friends, spoke up, right on cue...

"Come on, Fang, join us! You can handle this stuff, right?"

"Not my thing, thanks..."

"Oh come on! Dylan can down, like, eight of these without even getting buzzed! You bird kids can handle all that, right? Or maybe it's just my man Dylan here..."

It only took a couple more comments like that to get Fang off the couch. Dylan had wondered if Fang would actually fall for this simple act of peer pressure, but it seemed, without other Flock members to back him up, Fang was sort of... Lost. Lost and scrambling to put himself in a safer position. It was all survival technique, Dylan slowly realized. Within the Flock, Fang knew where he stood and knew he had back-up. Take him away from his Flock and he didn't know where to go or what to do. All he could do was to try and fit himself in somewhere, protect himself from the dangers of being the outcast. In this case, show Dylan and his friends that he could be just as cool and hardcore as they could.

Suddenly, Dylan was getting a sinking feeling about this prank in his stomach.

But it was already too late to turn back. Fang tipped back his first shot, nearly coughing it right back up again, to the other party goers' amusement. But he snatched another, managing to keep that one down, though the face he made managed to earn him a few more snickers from the others. Before Dylan could even come up with an idea to de-escalate the situation, Fang and Ryan were going shot-for-shot, Ryan being served up his daily dose of H2O and Fang using on hand one the table to hold himself up.

Dylan tried to keep an eye on Fang, but his friends pulled him away, wanting to talk about flying and show him funny internet videos. He wasn't gone for long, maybe ten minutes, but when he got back, things had gotten out of hand.

Fang was using both hands on the table to hold himself steady, looking absolutely distressed as Ryan waved a shotglass teasingly in front of his face. Others laughed loudly as Fang tried to grab the shotglass first with one hand, then the other, and then with his teeth, failing each time and looking both confused and upset as the others laughed at his failures.

"Alright, dude, that's enough!" Dylan said, pushing his way through the ring of people around the table and snatching the shot glass from Ryan, placing it aside.

"What's the problem?" Ryan asked, grinning as he attempted to hold back his laughter. "We're just playin' with him..."

"You're gonna give him alcohol poisoning!" Dylan exclaimed, looking at Fang, shocked at the state he had let his friends get him into. His eyes seemed to glaze over as he stood there, just staring at the middle of the table, seemingly unaware of the conversation around him. His face had taken on a red tint and he was starting to sweat. He swayed slightly where he stood, obviously needing both hands on the table to keep himself standing.

Dylan put a hand under Fang's chin and pulled his face up to his, breaking Fang's eye contact with whatever interesting spot he'd found on the table. "Fang? Hey, Fang, talk to me..."

It seemed to take Fang a moment to recognize Dylan, and another to form a coherent sentence. "Wha- What? I'm... In a contest. A thing. Showing I can... Drink as much as you. Eight shots. Eight..." Fang had started to sway to the left, but this time, he didn't right himself.

Dylan stepped forward and grabbed him, pulling him back to his feet and holding him there. The others started to laugh again. Some of them seemed to be trying to imitate Fang, stumbling to the side and giggling uncontrollably. Dylan saw Fang catch sight of them and watched as Fang's face fell, losing what little confidence he had in knowing that he had beaten Dylan at this drinking game. He'd finally realized, through his drunken stupor, that he was the butt of someone's joke. Fang tried to stand on his own, roughly pushing Dylan's hands away, but the world swayed around him and he grabbed Dylan's arm to steady himself.

"Dill, what the Hell?" Ryan asked, taking another fake shot of water. Dylan secretly hoped he'd spend the rest of the night in the bathroom. "Let him fall! See if he can get back up!"

The others started to laugh again, but their snickers died as they caught sight of Dylan's wrathful glare. "I didn't want him to be like this. I didn't want him wasted. You were just supposed to get him a little buzzed, it was supposed to be a harmless joke. This isn't harmless. He's a mess, Ryan!"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Oh come on! He's nothing but a little creep. It's not like you like him anyway. He'll be fine, just might roll around on the floor a bit. I swear, he's not poisoned, man, jeez."

"I should've never let you do this." Dylan said, before grabbing Fang's arm, putting it around his shoulders and putting his own arm around Fang's waist, supporting him as best he could. "This is stupid, and far from harmless. I'm taking him home."

The people in the small crowd groaned, rolling their eyes but backing away, off to find some new form of cheap entertainment. Ryan glared at Dylan, picking up the last shot and downing it himself. "Dude, stop being such a chickenshit. This guy's a jerk. Let him get what's coming to him."

"Sorry, Ry, but this is too far." Dylan replied, slowly turning Fang towards the door. "Enjoy your party, alright? See you Monday."

Dylan maneuvered Fang through the crowd of dancing bodies and out the side door. It was a clear night, but Dylan already knew flying was not an option, not with the state Fang was in. And he couldn't call for a ride. He didn't want Max's mom seeing Fang like this. It wouldn't end well for either of them.

So their only option was to walk.

Dylan sighed, gently repositioning Fang's arm around his shoulders a bit. "Alright, Fang, we're going to have to walk home tonight. I'll go slow, ok? Just hold onto me, let me know if you need anything..."

Fang made no indication that he'd understood Dylan's words, his eyes glued to the windows of the house they'd just left. "I... Really wasn't into that party..."

"Yeah, neither was I." Dylan replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Not what I expected from those people." He started to walk, nudging Fang to remind him to move as well.

Fang tore his eyes from the windows, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep up. "They were laughing at me..." He told Dylan, not making a single attempt to hide his emotions with the state he was in. Dylan could hear the disappointment in his voice, making him regret his actions even more. "I don't get it. What'd I do this time?"

Dylan sighed. "You didn't do anything. At least not anything wrong. They were jerks, Fang. Forget them."

"Mmhmm..." Dylan wondered how much Fang was actually comprehending him. "It was cool you... Brought me to a party, though. No one brings me to parties. I don't think I like parties... But getting invited for stuff is cool, ya know?"

"Yeah, it's cool." Dylan couldn't help but wonder what Fang was trying to say here. Did he seriously feel... Left out? He never acted like he wanted to go anywhere.

"Most people... I don't think they like me." Fang went on. "Because they like you. And... I don't like you." He started, to Dylan's amazement, giggling. "You just... Piss me off, man! You try to steal my girlfriend, you fight with me... You look like Justin Bieber. And everyone likes you."

Dylan just nodded, mildly considering letting Fang faceplant into the ground for a couple of those little thoughts of his.

"But you're... Handsomer than Bieber." Fang added. "And so chari... Charismatic." He said the last word with a slight accent for emphasize. "Everyone adores you. And they hate me."

"They don't hate you." Dylan told him, thinking of how Max and the Flock loved him and looked up to him, much moreso than they did Dylan.

"Yeah, yeah they do." Fang replied. "We're... Opposites. Everyone in school likes you because you look good and you've got personality and charm. I have no personality. And I kinda look like a freak. I mean, every day we walk into that school, I watch you with your friends and Max has her friends now, and everyone in the Flock, they've been able to socialize with at least a couple other people. You know who I talk to outside the Flock? Baxter. He's my partner for my history project. He likes to chew pencils, study the mating habits of otters, and told me yesterday he thinks I should give up school and become a hobo serial killer because that's all I'd be good at. The guy's, like, the biggest dork in the school and is STILL higher on the social ladder than me! He even has an internet girlfriend in Taiwan."

Dylan didn't know how to respond. Dylan had gotten to know the other Flock members well. He'd helped Nudge with her science homework, he'd chatted with Angel, he'd helped Gazzy make friends, he sometimes hung out with Iggy and his friends. And, of course, he spent as much time around Max as possible. But he'd never given Fang a second thought, at least, not a positive one. He'd noticed that Fang wasn't exactly the most social, but had only responded by laughing and making jokes about it. He'd never thought about how it made Fang feel. He'd never realized just how left out Fang was.

"Basically, I don't think school is, like, my thing." Fang told him. "I don't belong there. The only place I belong is with the Flock. Family. That's where I go. I have them. I have Max. Max, she's everything to me. She's my girlfriend, my best friend... She talks about me being her... Rock or whatever? She's like... My anchor. She's what keeps me here. What keeps me alive. It's why I hate you so much, man." The friendly tone he kept using to describe his hatred of Dylan was starting to freak the other bird-boy out. That, combined with this brutally honest rambling had to indicate some off-the-chart blood alcohol level. "If you took her away from me, what would I have? I would have nothing. And you could. You're all... Made for her. Mr. Perfect. Everyone likes you. She should like you."

In Dylan's mind, two different paths seemed to sprawl out before him. One was the obvious choice. This was where he could finally break Fang. He could convince Fang of anything right now. The guy's confidence hung by a thread, it'd be child's play to shatter it. Or, all this personal information he was getting, he could use it to crush his opponent to dust.

But his conscience had a different opinion on the matter. He'd put Fang in this horrible position. Not just with tonight, but in so many other ways. His existence was a threat to the one thing Fang had to hold onto. His constant bullying and picking fights must have stressed Fang out, preying on his constant fear of losing Max. And even in school, didn't many people dislike Fang, not because of anything he'd really said or done, but just based on his dislike of Dylan? And Dylan realized, in a way, he deserved to be disliked for some of the things he had done, and especially for this night.

Could he really kick this guy when he was already so far down?

"But she likes you." Dylan answered. "Not me. I've tried every trick in the book, and she still picks you every time. You have personality, you're just not so... Flamboyant about it. I see it when you're with people you trust. When you're with her." Dylan had some brutally honest comments of his own, ones he usually wouldn't admit to himself. "You have charm. At least, you've charmed her. And, dude, you've got the whole "tall, dark, and silent" thing going for you. Girls are into that. If I'm Justin Bieber you're, like, Adam Levine."

Fang was silent for a moment. Dylan hoped he was giving his words some thought. Could Fang even think clearly? "I really like Adam Levine..." He finally answered quietly.

"Of course you do. Everyone likes Adam Levine." Dylan answered. "Now let's just worry about getting home, alright? We still have a long walk ahead of us."

"Mmmhmm..." Fang answered. Dylan thought he heard him mutter something after that, but when Dylan asked him what, Fang didn't answer. They walked in silence for a couple minutes, Dylan glancing up at the moon as his only indication as to how late it was.

"You know what I want?" Fang suddenly asked, out of the blue, nearly making Dylan jump when he broke the long silence.

"What?" Dylan asked him as he got over his shock.

"A ferret." Fang replied, speaking as though he was revealing some sort of big secret. "I want a black one. I could name him Thorin Cedarshield. Thorin, like Thorin Oakenshield, the dwarf from The Hobbit. You remember watching that? The Hobbit? You remember watching-"

"I remember that." Dylan answered quickly, wishing Fang would go back to being silent. He was talking a few octaves louder than he usually did and, when he was talking, he moved slower, wasting precious seconds of moonlight.

Fang nodded in understanding. "And "Cedarshield" instead of "Oakenshield" because ferrets usually have cedar shavings, you know? And I'd name him after Thorin because... Because they all got picked up by hawks, and Thorin is going to fly with me. I'm gonna make him a harness so he can come along. My ferret will fly everywhere."

"That's great, Fang." Dylan answered, trying to sound more impressed than he was. Fang wanted a ferret named Thorin? It occurred to him that there may be other reasons Fang had trouble making friends... Such as a severe case of nerdiness...

Fang started mumbling something to himself about ferrets, when he let out a loud gasp, scaring Dylan once again. He pointed towards a house whose sprinklers had just turned on as Dylan tried to look and hold his drunken companion steady at the same time. "What?" He asked.

"They left their water running!" Fang responded worriedly as Dylan rolled his eyes.

"It's ok, Fang." Dylan tried to reassure him. They could not afford to stop now. "It's on a timer-"

"But they left the water going!" Fang interrupted. "HEY, YOU LEFT YOUR WATER RUNNING!" Fang yelled at the house.

Horrified, Dylan yanked Fang away, nearly dragging him down the street as the intoxicated boy giggled, yes giggled, the whole way through.

"Oh my God, Fang, stop." Dylan pleaded as he dragged the other boy along.

"They left... their water... running." Fang said between fits of laughter. Dylan had never known sprinklers could be so amusing. "They're gonna waste it all, then there won't be enough water for everyone on the planet, and we'll all get thirsty and start killing each other for water... And they'll have to send rocketships to Mars to get ice to melt into more water... But the astronauts will get killed by Martian Ice Warriors... So we'll just continue killing each other while simultaneously fighting the Martian War... And then the Martians will release a toxin into the air that reanimates our dead corpses... And the Zombie Apocolypse will begin."

Even knowing that they were short on time could not stop Dylan from freezing in his tracks, staring at the other boy as he processed Fang's drunken theory of Dystopia. "So sprinklers are going to cause the Zombie Apocolypse, Fang?" He asked skeptically.

Fang nodded. "What do you think Max is saving the world from?"

Dylan stared at him for a bit longer, trying to figure out if he was being seriously. He got his answer when Fang broke into another fit of giggles.

Dylan rolled his eyes, giving Fang's body a slight tug. "Come on, let's get you home already..."

The rest of the walk was relatively uneventful. They only had to stop twice more. Once so Fang could let a squirrel cross the road, the other time so that he could stare at a street lamp for a couple minutes. He tried to stop a third time, claiming he wanted to make sure the statues in some person's garden wouldn't move, but Dylan just dragged him past. He could only put up with so much of this weirdness.

As soon as Dylan laid eyes on Dr. Martinez's house, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd never been so happy to see that place. He gave Fang, who had stopped walking, yet again, a little nudge. "Come on, dude, not much farther."

"I need to stop." Fang told him, attempting to pull away.

Dylan pulled him back, resisting the urge to snap at him. Not now! Not when they were so close! "No, buddy, no more street lamps. We need to go home."

"I need to stop." Fang repeated, yanking himself out of Dylan's hold. He stumbled backwards a bit, but quickly steadied himself. He took a couple uneasy steps towards their neighbor's flower garden, peering down at the dirt.

Dylan let out an exhasperated groan. "Fang, I am so done with-"

Before Dylan could finish, Fang interrupted him, making this horrible gagging sound and dropping to his knees.

Dylan raced to his side, dropping next to him and pulling back his hair as Fang's body worked to expel all of the alcohol that had been sloshing around in his stomach. Dylan held his breath against the horrible smell of fresh vomit, trying not to gag himself. He felt badly for the poor neighbor who was going to find this mess come morning.

When Fang finally stopped gagging and wretching, managing to catch his breath again, he let out a low moan. "Really not feeling well..." He muttered. He started to fall forward, but Dylan grabbed him around the waist, pulling him backwards, into a sitting position, saving him from falling face-first into his own mess.

"You think you can try to stand?" Dylan asked him.

Fang took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm his stomach, before nodding once. "Y-yeah. I'm cool." He answered shakily.

Dylan slowly helped Fang back to his feet, supporting him even more than he was before. Progress towards the door was slow, with Fang nearly tripping on his own feet more than once, but they made it to the door in one piece, Dylan sending up a silent prayer that everyone was in bed before opening the door and pulling Fang inside.

The house was dark, quiet, just how Dylan was hoping it would be. Everyone in bed, including Dr. Martinez. All he had to do now was get Fang to his room.

Dylan led him to the stairs that led up to their bedrooms and just stared at them for a minute. There was no way Fang was walking up that flight in the condition he was in. Dylan looked Fang over, hoping to see some sign of improvement, but all he saw was Fang, looking tired and pale, staring at a mildly interesting spot on the floor. He let out a long sigh.

"Alright, Fang." He said, pulling the boy closer and thanking God that there was no one around to see this. "I need you to just lean back, against my arm." Not willing to wait for Fang to comprehend, he put one arm behind Fang's back and gently pushed him backwards with the other. Fang's balance was so off, he just fell against Dylan, allowing him to lower Fang to the floor, putting his other arm under Fang's legs and lifting him up.

"Stop moving your wings." Dylan told him as he made his way to the stairs. "They're making this awkward enough."

"I'm not a baby... I can do stairs." Fang whined from Dylan's arms. Dylan had hoped that Fang had expelled enough of the alcohol from his system to produce coherent thought, but that didn't seem to be the case. He seemed just as loopy as ever.

"You can barely walk straight. Shuddup." Dylan replied, making his way up the stairs slowly, praying he wouldn't lose his balance and fall right back down again. Though managable, Fang was definitely a bit heavier than, say, one of the kids. Dylan began to have to mentally pep talk himself just to make it up the next step.

When they reached the top, Dylan breathed a sigh of relief as he gently placed Fang back on his feet, keeping an arm on him to help steady him. "Let's head for your room, alright?" Dylan told him, gently steering him in the direction of his bedroom.

Fang stumbled forward, staring around the hallway. "Where is everyone?"

"Asleep." Dylan told him, keeping his voice low. "Let's keep them that way."

"Sleeping?" Fang asked. "Should we wake them?"

"No! No no no!" Dylan answered frantically, remembering how Fang had yelled at the owners of the sprinkler earlier. "No, it's really, really important that they stay asleep, ok? They need to sleep, Fang. You understand?"

"They need sleep." He replied, now whispering. "Shhhhh... They're sleeping, Dylan."

"Right." Dylan told him. "They're-"

"SSSHHHHHHHHH!" Dylan, they're SLEEPING!" Fang cut him off, somehow managing to whisper and yell at the same time.

Dylan rolled his eyes and resigned himself to dragging Fang the rest of the way down the hall.

Dylan burst into Fang's bedroom, feeling relief pouring over him. This crazy night was almost over. He walked Fang over to his bed and, with only a little coaxing, got him to lie down on it.

"Alright, you need to go to sleep, too." Dylan told Fang.

"Shhhhhshshshshsh!" Fang told him, putting a finger to his lips. "Sleeping!"

"They can't hear us in here." Dylan told him, tired of being shushed. "Now you need to sleep."

"Oh..." Fang looked sort of disappointed. Dylan wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want to sleep, or because he had no reason to shush Dylan anymore.

"I'm going to go to my bed now." Dylan told him, turning to go. "You-"

"No!" Fang whined, leaping forward and latching himself onto Dylan's arm. "I can't sleep, Dylan."

"I'm not going to help you-" Dylan began, but Fang was hearing none of it.

"I can't sleep. I feel all funny and I hate it. Plus, you might go sleep with Max while I'm sleeping and no." Fang squeezed Dylan's arm tighter, cutting off much-needed circulation.

"I'm not going to sleep with Max." Dylan told him, about ready to scream from frustration.

"You could, though."

"I'm not going to."

"But you could and-"

"I promise I'm not going to sleep with your girlfriend! Jeez!" Dylan snapped, tugging at his arm, but Fang had a deathgrip on it and it wouldn't budge.

Fang was silent for a moment, thinking. "I still feel funny." He finally replied.

"You're drunk." Dylan told him. "You're gonna feel funny."

"Don't leave me alone..." Fang pleaded. "You can stay. I have room. We'll watch TV on my laptop."

Dylan groaned, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling in defeat. "Fine!" He figured Fang wouldn't be awake long, anyway. He could sneak out once the other boy was asleep.

Fang smiled, loosening his grip on Dylan's arm a bit. "Great. We can watch Doctor Who."

Doctor Who, it turned out, was the greatest pile of nerdiness that Dylan had ever been subjected to. Fang asked Dylan what episode he wanted to watch and, when Dylan said he'd never seen it before, Fang started him off at the beginning.

It was a British sci-fi show about a time and space-travelling alien and his companion, Rose. Dylan, his mind rattled from its need for sleep, could barely follow. Fang, on the other hand, was enthralled.

"Don't tell Max I watch this, ok?" Fang asked Dylan at one point. "She'll call me a dork."

Once again, Dylan thought he had some insight on why Fang had no friends.

"Ok, so basically," Dylan summarized after they finished their third episode. "This show is about this really old Doctor guy who picks up some teenager and they travel through time and crap, and everywhere they go, there's trouble."

"Kinda, I guess..." Fang replied with a shrug. Dylan got the feeling Fang wasn't impressed with his opinions.

"Rose seems kinda bleh." Dylan went on. "Just running around, getting herself in trouble. Not really that interesting."

Dylan didn't hear a response, so turned to look at Fang, only to see Fang staring back at him, eyes wide, his expression read as though Dylan had just offered some great insult. "What?" Dylan asked.

"That's Rose Tyler!" Fang replied fiercely, as if that explained everything.

"And?" Dylan raised an eyebrow, waiting for more.

"And she is amazing!" Fang responded. "She kicks butt! You can't judge her on three episodes! The Doctor would be dead without her! She is the Bad Wolf. She creates herself!"

"I have no idea what that means." Dylan told him, rolling his eyes. "Just spare me the dramatics and play another episode."

Bright sun blazed in through the bedroom windows, no curtains drawn to dim it's light. Dylan made a small groaning noise, attempting to cover his eyes with his arm so he could get a couple minutes more sleep.

And even louder groaning noise by his side, however, jolted him awake.

Dylan eyes flew open, blinking a couple times to adjust to the sun, hoping what he was seeing was merely a trick of the light.

It wasn't. Lying next to him was Fang. He was curled up on his side, facing Dylan, his arm over his face to block out the light.

Dylan scrambled into a sitting position. How had this happened?! The answer to the question plaguing his mind was answered almost immediately when he glanced down at the floor and saw the laptop lying there on it's side, still open. Of course, they'd been watching the nerdy British show and must've fallen asleep.

A low, pained moan next to him drew his attention back to his current sleeping partner. Fang had curled up even tighter on his side, both hands now clutching his head.

"Fang?" Dylan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He had no idea what time it was. Were the others awake yet?

Fang's eyes flew open and he moved, looking up at the other teen who most certainly should not be sitting on his bed. "What the Hell are you doing in here?" His voice came out more like a croak, and it was obvious it hurt him to even have his eyes open.

"Guess I just crashed here-" Dylan started to explain, but Fang was now scrambling into a sitting position himself, realization dawning on his face.

"Wait, the party... And there were shots... Oh my God, you jerk!" Fang spat out the last word, remembering exactly who he had to blame for the state he was in. He paused for a moment, staring at Dylan, his face falling a little. "Exactly... What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Oh! Fang, it's not... Not like that." Dylan told him, catching onto his thoughts immediately. "I just slept here."

"Alright, good." Fang replied, anger slowly returning to his face. "I should make you sleep in a grave after last night! You and your jerk friends!"

"Hey, you didn't have to drink." Dylan told him, though Fang's words still stung a bit. He knew he was still partly to blame. "No one forced you."

"Yeah, but you... Damn..." Fang's head fell into his hands as he let out another small moan. "My head is killing me..."

"You're hungover." Dylan explained. "Seen it before. Some aspirin and a whole lot of water should help."

"Shut up a minute." Fang told him, his hands pressing on his head like he was trying to hold his skull together.

"Look, I'm... Sorry." Dylan said, ignoring Fang's request for him to shut up. The apology was more important. "Look, I took you to the party hoping to play a stupid prank on you and make you look bad. And it went too far. I shouldn't have let it happen. I'm sorry."

"Well, it did happen." Fang told him, still holding his head together. "I was the idiot who fell for the prank and made a fool of myself in front of all those people..." He shook his head, not the biggest fan of all the memories that were slowly coming back to him. "And Max... If she sees me like this..."

"She won't." Dylan told him. He knew what Max meant to Fang now, as well as what disappointing her could mean for him. He couldn't allow this mess to hurt him anymore. "We'll figure out something."

"Yeah, right." Fang replied sarcastically, not believing a word coming out of Dylan's mouth. "You wanted to make me look bad in front of Max. Now, here's your chance and you're going to help me? Even I'm not that stupid... Ugh..." He leaned over a bit, rubbing his aching forehead. "I feel sick."

"All a part of the hangover." Dylan told him. "And yeah, I'm going to help you. I screwed up bad and now it's my job to fix it. Besides, trying to get Max like this... It isn't right. I kinda see that now. And... You need her."

Fang slowly picked up his throbbing head and looked at Dylan, trying to figure out what sort of trick the kid was trying to play. But his eyes were open and honest, confusing Fang more than ever.

"I swear, I will help you. I swear... In the name of Rose Tyler. I swear on the Bad Wolf." Dylan told him, placing a hand over his heart as he swore his alliegiance.

Fang just stared at him for a moment,the let out a long sigh. "I made you watch Doctor Who with me?"

Dylan just nodded.

Slowly, Fang let his head drop back into his hands. "My life is over."

"Found anything useful yet?" Fang muffled voice asked Dylan from where his head had been stuffed under a pillow. His head was pounding and, even though the pillow didn't solve much, it at least blocked out the light of the room. Dylan had drawn the curtains for him, but even the little bit of light from the laptop was painful to his eyes.

"Mostly just stuff about how most hangover cures don't work." Dylan replied, clicking through the webpage Google had brought him to. "Basically, the two things you can do that will at least be sure to help are drink plenty of water and sleep."

"I can't just sleep." Fang told him. "Eventually, Dr. Martinez or Max or someone is gonna come looking for me and, after wondering what the heck you're doing crawling around my bed, they're gonna take one look at me and know something's up." Another low moan escaped him and he pressed the pillow tighter to his head. "My head hurts so bad..."

Dylan glanced over at Fang worriedly. Fang was like a stone wall when it came to things like pain. He rarely complained at all. If Fang's head was hurting him this badly... What if he did get alcohol poisoning? If something bad happened to Fang because of all this, Dylan knew he'd never forgive himself. Quickly, he opened another tab and began Googling alcohol poisoning symptoms.

A short rap on the door made both boys nearly jump out of their skins. "It's 9:30. Just giving everyone a little wake-up call." Dr. Martinez's voice called from the other side of the door. They listened as her footsteps walked away to the next person's bedroom.

"Great..." Fang muttered from under his pillow. "I'm screwed. Completely screwed."

"No, no you're not." Dylan replied, closing out the two tabs he had and opening a new Google search. "The only way you'll be screwed is if anyone finds out it's a hangover. And there's no reason anyone has to know that."

With that, Dylan typed in the words "how to fake a fever".

"This shouldn't be hard." Dylan told Fang, dabbing his face with a warm cloth he'd snuck into the bathroom to get. "Basically, act cold. Shiver a little. She'll get the thermometer, pop it in your mouth and, hopefully, go away. If she doesn't, I'll distract her. Then you put the thermometer against the lightbulb, get it up to, like, 98 or 99 degrees, not too high, though, or she'll panic and take you to a doctor or something. Besides that, you have all the symptoms of some sort of bug, anyway. The fever will just throw out any clues to it being a hangover. I'll just tell her some kid at the party was getting sick and BOOM! You're home free."

"You really think this is going to work?" Fang asked. He was lying on his side with his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the warm washcloth on his face, though he'd never let Dylan know that.

"I think we have a pretty good shot." Dylan replied. "Alright, I'm going to the bathroom so I can pretend I got up first. The others will be getting up soon. You just stay here and wait until Dr. M comes along. I'll be hanging around outside. It'll be fine."

"Why am I trusting you?" Fang muttered, but Dylan didn't bother replying. He raced to Fang's door, quickly checking the hallway to make sure no one was outside before sneaking across the hall to the bathroom.

Fang buried his face in his pillow, wanting badly to fall asleep, but not wanting to before Dr. Martinez came in. He didn't like being caught off-guard. He wondered how long it would take her, if Dylan would really wait that long. Heck, he wondered if Dylan was really helping him at all. Maybe this was all a part of the elaborate scheme to further ruin his life. He'd already been made a fool of in front of all of Dylan's popular friends. Who knows what stories would be floating around the school about him, thanks to last night? Fang didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but he was beginning to hate being the social outcast of the Flock. When they first started at this school, he didn't care about making friends with other people, all he needed was his Flock. He viewed them attending this school as just another temporary pit stop. But as week went on, it began to look a little less temporary. Everyone else had managed to branch out, in varying degrees. They had friends. They had things to do, places to be. And Fang either got dragged along as the fifth wheel, or he was left at home. Alone.

His few attempts at trying to make a friend outside the Flock usually didn't end well. Most people already didn't like him, thanks to Dylan. The few who might give him a chance were usually turned off by his lack of social skills. He wasn't great at making conversation and, after being tricked by some of Dylan's jerk friends before, he started to become distrustful of anyone who tried to be friendly towards him.

Really, no matter how things turned out with Dr. Martinez, Fang didn't see his life getting much better.

Just as Fang's eyes started to close, sleep being far too tempting, he heard the familiar sound of Dr. M's shoes tapping against the hardwood floor. Before he could decide if he should be pretending to be asleep or not, his door slowly swung open and the show had begun.

"Fang? It's ten o'clock. You don't usually sleep this late." Fang didn't move, didn't reply. His silence caused Dr. Martinez to step in a bit farther. "Fang?" She called again. He heard her step closer to the bed. "How late did you stay up last night?" He felt her hand rest on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. "Fang?"

Fang forced his eyes open, glancing up to meet Dr. Martinez's concerned gaze. "It's... How late?" Fang asked, not having to try hard to sound, well, though Fang hated to admit it, pathetic.

"Fang..." She went for the bait, placing the back of her hand against his forehead. "You're a bit warm... Not feeling well, I take it."

Fang considered trying to pick himself up or turn himself over so he could talk to her better, but his head began to throb again and he threw that thought right out the window. "Not really..."

"I'll be right back, alright? Just gonna get a thermometer." She hurried out his bedroom door and Fang started to feel the smallest glimmer of hope. Was this seriously going to work?

Outside his room, Dr. Martinez stepped into the bathroom, barely noticing Dylan leaning against a wall nearby. He watched as she quickly snatched the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and hurried back to Fang's room. He moved to lean against the wall just outside Fang's door, listening to the conversation inside.

"Just put this in your mouth, under your tongue. There." He heard Dr. Martinez's voice speaking from inside. "You look pale..."

Dylan decided not to waste any time. It sounded like Dr. M was going to stay and watch. "Dr. Martinez?" He called, leaning into the doorway so he could be seen.

She looked up, seeing Dylan and holding up a hand to tell him to wait. She gave Fang a light pat on the shoulder. "Just sit tight a minute." She walked out of the room, shutting the door a bit as soon as she was in the hallway, to give Fang some privacy.

Just like Dylan was hoping she would.

"Is Fang ok?" Dylan asked, hoping he looked and sounded concerned enough.

"He sure isn't acting it." She answered, glancing back towards his room. "Seems like he's running a fever, trying to find out."

Dylan nodded knowingly. "There was a girl at the party last night that acted like she was coming down with something. Wanted to leave before we caught whatever it was. Obviously should've left sooner."

"I guess so." Dr. Martinez agreed, glancing back at Fang's door again. "Really should check on him..."

"Yeah, yeah." Dylan said, trying to quickly pull an idea out of his brain to keep Dr. M here just a little longer. "I just really hope he's, well, ok. I mean, it'd kinda suck if the one time I try to play nice with the kid and he ends up sick."

"Right..." She replied, looking back at Dylan. Perfect. "By the way, thank you for... Doing that. If you and Fang could at least learn to tolerate each other, it'd make life in this house a lot easier. Plus... I don't think it could hurt Fang to have some sort of social life, outside the Flock."

Dylan nodded. So Dr. Martinez had noticed Fang's lifeless nerd status... "Sure. Maybe he can tag along once in a while." At this point, it looked like hanging out with Fang might be the better choice over hanging out with the same losers from the night before. It was less likely to lead him wrong.

"I think that'd be a good thing..." From her tone, Dylan couldn't tell if she was saying it was a good thing for Fang... Or him. "If you'll excuse me..." She stepped back into Fang's room without another word, leaving Dylan hoping he'd bought Fang enough time.

Dylan leaned back against the wall, listening in, ready to run in and... Well, he figured he'd come up with something if the moment arose.

"99 degrees, Fang. Looks like you picked up some sort of bug." He heard Dr. Martinez voice say, making him sigh with relief. She'd bought it. "I think you'll be best off staying in bed for the day."

A couple minutes later, Dr. Martinez came out of Fang's room, shutting the door behind her. Dylan just so happened to step out of the bathroom at the same time. At least, that's what he wanted her to believe. "So, how's Fang?"

"Running a fever." She replied with a sigh. "And, from the looks of things, feeling pretty awful. Told him to stay in bed and he didn't even reply to me. Didn't ask how long or complain that he couldn't... Just dropped his head on his pillow and put his arm over his head."

"That sucks..." Dylan responded. "Well, hopefully, a day in bed will fix him up, right?"

"Yes, right." She answered with a nod. There was a noise downstairs, like the sound of a pot hitting the hardwood kitchen floor, and Dr. Martinez cringed. "I need to go supervise them..." She told Dylan, sounding tired. "Come down for breakfast when you're ready."

"Will do..." Dylan replied, watching Dr. Martinez walk down the hall, unable to hide his smirk any longer. He and Fang had pulled it off. It wasn't the prank he had started out with, but it was certainly the most rewarding to succeed at.

By the next day, Fang was feeling much better, headache and nausea cleared up and feeling more rested than he had in a long time. Max, who had been worried sick about her second-in-command since yesterday, was relieved to see him up and about again.

And everyone was surprised to see Dylan and Fang... On friendlier terms.

At first, it was awkward. Dylan felt like he needed to make things up to Fang and was being just as friendly as possible. Fang, upon realizing that Dylan had, in fact, turned around and helped him rather than double cross him, now felt like he owed him for that and was making his own awkward and stand-offish attempts at friendlier terms. Not being able to get away from the rest of the Flock for the better part of the day, neither was able to talk to the other about what had happened and the new terms of their aquaintanceship.

All day it was awkward nods and holding open of doors. They both felt as though they should help each other, but avoided each other at the same time for fear of the awkwardness. Finally, after dinner, the rest of the household went to get ready for bed and Fang happened to wander into the kitchen for a glass of water at the same time Dylan decided he wanted a snack.

Dylan grabbed a glass out of the cupboard, handing it to Fang with one of his trademark smiles. Fang took it with a much more awkward and uncomfortable smile of his own. He started to turn to get his drink, but spun back to Dylan, who had just shoved half a PB & J in his mouth.

"Alright, so what are we now?" Fang asked. "'Cause this awkward friendliness is more stressful than making Dr. M think I had a fever."

"I fofos fe foo fee fife fros o' sumfin." Dylan mumbled around his sandwich.

"Could you try swallowing first?" Fang asked, rolling his eyes.

Dylan sighed, swallowing the lump of peanut butter, jelly, and bread. "I suppose we could be, like, bros or something. Friends. Why not?"

"You think it's that simple?" Fang asked. "You nearly get me alcohol poisoning, but you fix it so now we're friends? You think last night changes everything you've... Put me through." The last three words came out softer, like he hadn't quite meant to say them aloud.

"No, but... It's a start." Dylan replied, leaning against the counter. "I realized a lot that night. I'm petty and cruel when I want something, and I disregard other's feelings on the grounds of something as simple as me not liking them. I feel like I should've known the way I was acting was wrong... I shouldn't have let that prank happen... But I did. And I want to try and do better. I still like Max, I can't deny that. But I see now more than ever why she would choose someone like you over someone like me. Maybe she can see just how... Immature I am..."

"Well, what can you expect from a... What, 3-year-old? 3 and a half?" Fang commented, Dylan's reference to immaturity reminding him just how old the other bird-kid technically was. "I mean, you're all caught up physically and mentally... Emotionally and socially? That's all gotta be learned. I mean, you seem to have the social thing down..." He added witha shrug.

"Not if I pick crappy friends like the guys who pranked you." Dylan replied. "And maybe you have a point. I've got plenty of things I still need to learn. I want to try to do better. And I want to start by being a better person to you."

"You made a point, to, though." Fang responded. "You still like Max. Knowing you having a thing for my girlfriend doesn't exactly make friendship with you easy."

"I promise to stop trying to break you two up." Dylan told him earnestly. "I'll leave you alone, leave Max alone, be content knowing that Max is happy... Though, if you guys ever break up... Don't expect me not to swoop in."

"Fair enough." Fang agreed, after a pause for thought. He wasn't sure if he trusted Dylan to follow through with his promise, but he figured he at least owed the kid a chance. "And I promise to stop making jokes about you looking and acting like some sort of wacky cross between Justin Bieber and a Disney Prince."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Between the hair and your penchant for singing, I don't know what you expect people to think." Fang replied, managing a small smirk that was, in no way, awkward.

Dylan gave him a huge grin in response. "I want them to take one look at me and just be like, 'Baby Baby Baby OH! Like Baby Baby Baby-'"

"NO!" Fang cut him off, pointing his cup at Dylan menacingly. "One more lyric and I will be filling this cup with your brain matter." He turned to fill his cup at the sink as Dylan snickered over the other half of his sandwich.

"Hey... Bro." Dylan asked just as Fang turned off the faucet. "I have to admit... Watching The Doctor Who the other night... It's kind of a cool show, once you get into it."

"The Doctor Who?" Fang asked judgmentally. "It's just 'Doctor Who', man. You sound ridiculous. It's like saying 'I did the flying' or 'I had the sex'."

Dylan smirked suggestively. "Have you had the sex?"

Fang nearly choked on a sip of water. "Excuse me?"

Dylan laughed. "Chill, I'm kidding. Anyway... Cool show with British accents. I want to see more. I never found out what all the 'Bad Wolf' nonsense was about."

"It's not nonsense." Fang responded as if Dylan had offered him some sort of insult. "You're talking about Rose Tyler."

"Alright, well, teach me." Dylan told him. "Teach me the ways of the Bad Wolf."

A smile slowly stretched across Fang's face, a real smile. "You're going to regret that request."

"He quoted Lion King! Fang, he's quoting The Circle of Life!" Dylan was excited, like a little kid, practically jumping in his seat on the couch as he watched David Tennant defeat aliens with Disney quotes.

"Told you that you'd like Ten." Fang said smugly. Of course Dylan liked Ten. Who didn't like Ten?

"Boys, it's nearly 1 am." Dr. Martinez said, stepping into the living room. She had been on her way to the kitchen for a glass of water when she heard the TV still running and the sound of two former enemies laughing over something to do with evil Santas. "You need to sleep. School in the morning, remember?" She thought she saw Fang flinch at the mention of school.

"Can we just finish the episode?" Dylan asked her. "It's nearly over."

"Alright, but bed right after. I'd hate to be you two in the morning, running on such little sleep." She told them, rolling her eyes.

"I've done more on less." Fang reminded her, reaching to the bottom of a bag of chips he and Dylan had between them on the couch, scraping up the remaining crumbs.

"Doesn't mean you should make a habit of it." She started to turn to leave, but paused a moment, enjoying the sight of the two teenagers, sitting together peacefully on the couch when, only days before, they'd been ready to throw each other under a bus, in all senses of the phrase. "Nice to see you two getting along, by the way."

"Let's not make a big thing of it." Fang replied, eyes on the TV screen.

"I don't know if we're friends, really." Dylan added. "Pretty sure he's trying to cause me pain by making me watch this show."

"Hey, you wanted to know what 'Bad Wolf' was all about!" Fang countered.

"Alright, boys, alright. Chill." Dr. Martinez told them, laughing. "I'll keep all my... What does Ella call it? 'Bromance' thoughts to myself." Fang's face when she said 'bromance' was priceless. "But, just to let you know, I..." She held up her hands and made quotes in the air. "Ship it."

Fang buried his face in his hands with a groan. "Oh, Dr. M, stop... No... Don't do that..." Dylan merely looked from one of them to the other, confused.

"Goodnight, boys." She called, still laughing as she walked towards the kitchen.

"She what?" Dylan asked Fang as Dr. Martinez walked away.

"She... She doesn't know what she's talking about... Let's just not." Fang replied, waving his hand dismissively.

"Ok then..." Dylan replied with a shrug, turning his full attention back to the TV screen. "So what's the next episode?"

"One at a time, Dill." Fang told him. "Tooth and Claw. Werewolves. That's all I'm telling you."

"I can't wait." Dylan replied with a grin. "Werewolves. Like Jacob Black and stuff?"

The stare Fang directed at Dylan gave a new definition to 'if looks could kill'. "I have a lot of work to do with you..."

Dylan's grin transformed into a smirk. "Does that mean you don't mind having me around so much?"

Fang rolled his eyes, but he couldn't erase the smallest smile from his lips. "Don't push your luck."

"Is it BrOTP? Is that the word I'm looking for?"

Fang let out a long groan, covering his face with his hands. "Dr. M, stop! Seriously!"

Dr. Martinez leaned against the doorframe, holding her cup of water, and barely managing to supress a chuckle at Fang's distress. "Alright, Fang, pull yourself together. I just remembered something I wanted to tell you two."

"What is it?" Dylan asked, barely glancing at her, still engrossed in the last few moments of the episode.

"I'm really glad the two of you are getting along. It's great that you came together." She let out a small sigh. "But, if either of you ever comes home completely wasted again, so help me I will clip your wings and make you re-enact that Reichenbach Fall. I went to college, boys. I know a hangover when I see one. The fever was a nice touch, but I wasn't born yesterday. Goodnight."

Dr. Martinez turned and headed for the stairs, completely ignoring the fact that she'd managed to paralyze two teenage boys with shock.

"I... Don't know what to say..." Dylan finally spoke, his voice was pitchy, and barely above a whisper.

"I know..." Fang replied, just staring down at the floor, as if he were sharing his knowledge with his shoes.

"She knew we faked it. How? I mean... How could she tell?" Dylan asked.

"Well, that's easy. She's a Sherlockian." Fang answered, as if this was some sort of common knowledge. "There's just one thing that's really starting to scare me here..."

"What?" Dylan asked him. "You think she'll tell Max?"

"No." Fang answered, shaking his head. "I think Dr. Martinez has a Tumblr."

Fang: I have a feeling this fic started out as something serious, then just disintegrated into fandom references.

Me: Don't they always? Oh, and points to anyone who caught my A Very Potter Musical reference that I snuck in there. (I don't own that, either.)

Fang: So, how about we post this, then you go update some of those other fics you've been neglecting?

Me: Well, someone has high expectations, don't they?

R&R?