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Undertow	By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 11341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction set in Dreamworks' Penguins of Madagascar franchise. I do not own its characters, basic premise or settings.

Chapter List
- 1-1/?
- 2-2/?
- 3-3/?
- 4-4/?
- 5-5/?
- 6-6/?
- 7-7/?
- 8-8/?
- 9-9/?
- 10-10/?
- 11-11/?
- 12-12/?
- 13-13/?
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- 16-16/?
- 17-17/?
- 18-18/?
- 19-19/?
- 20-20/?
- 21-21/?
- 22-22/?
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- 30-30/?
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- 48-48/?
- 49-49/?
- 50-50/?
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- 60-60/?
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- 80-80/?
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- 86-86/?
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- 88-88/?
- 89-89/?
- 90-90/?
- 91-91/?
- 92-92/?
- 93-93/?
- 94-94/?
- 95-95/?
- 96-96/?
- 97-97/?
- 98-97/?
- 99-99/?
- 100-100/?
- 101-101/?
- 102-102/?
- 103-103/?
- 104-104/?
- 105-105/?
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- 110-110/112
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"So it's doneski?"
"That's the word! Come see, honey."
Penguin and otter approached the veiled work. Marlene flushed beneath her fur with nerves as she whisked off the gauze cover, ever so careful not to snag it onto the oil painting. That may have been a technique for adding texture to half-congealed oils, but not to this painting. This one needed to shine when dried completely.
She needn't have worried about its reception.
IOIOIOIOIO
"Oh wow! Wow! Marlene, you outdid yourself. It's so worth all the posing." Skipper eyed the work from several angles, his chest heaving and his eyes wet. A whimper escaped him. "Our family. Our team. Brava, cara, brava."
"I'm not crying, you're crying."
Skipper sniffled, but no tear fell. "Go ahead and sob, Marlene. I won't judge." He pressed her face against his chest.
After a timeless time, she whispered into the snowy feathers, "Good enough for government work, Skipper?"
That broke the tension and they both chortled before stepping apart. The painting perched on its easel, a masterpiece, really, of a lone otter bending beneficently with paws flung wide as if to embrace six penguins. You could see the edge of the cement block she stood upon while Rico and Kowalski braced little Tactic as he struggled to stand, and Private and Skipper each held a flipper of cuter-than-cute Sally. Skipper's breath hitched. "It's like all the troubles and triumphs of the past year in one painting. I love it."
"Oh, honey!"
"There, there, get it together, Ms. Commando."
Marlene did and then she ran on and on about sepia techniques, and how you make your own dark brown by mixing burnt sienna with raw umber and shades of red and orange until you reach the darkest shade you were going for.
Skipper only half listened as she rambled. He smoothed her ear after bending it down so he could watch it snap up. "Burnt? Raw? You chefed up a fantastic work of art - hey, where's my portrait you started?"
She acted like she didn't hear him and babbled, burbled and boasted how hard it was to find and mix sepia colors so he let her run out of breath before trying again. "My portrait you started last year? It must be finished by now, babe." He waited.
"Yeah, well, it's not. I gave up on it."
He took her face in both flippers and she did not meet his gaze. "That's not like you, querida."
She took his flippers firmly. "I thought things through. I'm not the same otter I was then and, and - "
"Neither am I the same penguin."
"¿De veras?"
"Es verdad." She took a deep breath and dropped his flippers.
"I abandoned the individual sketch of you to complete this" - she gestured to the family portrait before clasping her paws over her chest - "because it's more appropriate since you're a leader of a team so it's not right to leave out the team."
He must have appeared at a loss because she blurted, "You can always look in the mirror if you want to see the truth about your individual look. Te ves grandioso, mi vida."
"You know me so well it's scary, Marlene." They stepped closer together. "I'm not sure I like that, but I'm leaning in that direction."
IOIOIOIOIO
Marlene supposed that Skipper needed physicality as much as he needed oxygen in such a moment. His flippers roamed her backside, cupping her butt cheeks before rambling to her front to diddle her lower tits. She backed away and his expression turned quizzical.
"Not in the mood? Heat coming on, no that's not it because I keep track by the calendar ... what is it, cara?" He put on the expression, oh so familiar, of joyful expectation to savor her charms. He waited for her answer.
She gave him one. "I'm tender there today, I don't know why. Let's take it slow, huh?" She traced his bicep. "For me."
Dad gum it, he was such an alpha because he stepped tighter into her front, tongue out to lick or nibble her chest; she retreated again. He halted as she knew he would.
"All right, Marlene. I get carried away sometimes by titties. We don't need to do anything to make me happier than I am right now." His smile radiated genuine feeling as they bantered back and forth. She rubbed her front to clarify her condition so he could see her flick the rosy peaks and then wince.
"Well, don't mess with these. They're swollen for some reason." He made a face as if to tease her by continuing his advances and she grew stern. "I mean it."
"Okayokay, sheesh you're touchy." He clasped his flippers behind himself and admired the completed portrait once more. "So creative! I dig how you blended the colors into each other except for our crisp and decisively marked penguin bodies." He reached as if to caress his son's indisputably chestnut brown fuzz. His flipper halted one quarter inch off the still drying canvas. "Also except for Tactic. Somehow I think he's gonna be exceptional, even for a penguin."
Marlene dispensed a sideways hug as she admired her work, too. "I worked hard on this piece, Skipper m'love. It's my first serious do in oils."
He returned the hug and upped the ante with a sideways kiss. "Mi dulce, let me brief you on our latest routine, Routine 101: It's Allowed To Be Proud."
"Heh." Her voice softened. "So what's it like, being a parent? Are you proud?"
Skipper continued staring at the portrait. Marlene jostled his elbows until they fell from their usual akimbo position but he still did not answer.
"Ask Private, he'll tell you," he said at last.
"Yeah, right, suuuuure I'll ask him."
"Trouble in the friendship?"
Marlene pulled a face. "We're only teammates now. We were close and now we're - "
"No more than cordial? Let me fix that."
Her sigh stirred her whiskers. "Let us two parse things by ourselves, you mean. I encouraged him to work his hyper-cute when the rest of you flooped out even though you really, really wanted to leave the zoo to see the movie Thunders Lightning. That ought to count for something when he thinks about me."
Skipper sighed, too. "Yeah, we fell short of the mark for him when old Balloon Bod carted the zoo's keycard around her lily white Greco-Roman wrestler's neck. It was only your cheerleading that distracted the Bod enough to get her key."
Marlene arched a brow. "Balloon Bod? You mean Alice, right?'"
Skipper snorfled. "Yeah, we nicknamed her Balloon Bod even before she turned up preggers. Wow, did you see how big she got? Leopard seals don't get no bigger."
"I would get fat as that if you and I had a baby, Skipper, so would you laugh at me?" Impossible scenario, Marlene, impossible except for an example. Her mood settled into introspection, not sad, not happy, just as analytical as Kowalski at his best and brightest. "Or we might not become close friends again, I guess. I really dunno. Maybe this is as good as it gets."
"Let's catch up the kids and the rest of the team in the park."
"Way to defuse, Skipper."
"It's my job."
IOIOIOIOIO
Central Park changed with the seasons that the East Coast enjoyed, interminably and eternally, and then changed back. In this summer of summers, kids played on the lush grass whether they were human or animal. Strawberry Fields held a string of sheltering trees near the east streetside, so Marlene and Skipper joined Kowalski, Rico, Private, Tactic and Sally near the field's fringes, venturing out when all clear, disappearing into wraiths under the trees when humans clomped nearby.
At one such hidey hole time, Kowalski presented a lecture as Tactic leaned his young back against Rico while Sally cushioned herself against Private's tummy as all four sat tailor fashion.
"Tactic and Sally, see this needle?" He held up a sewing needle. "Daddy's going to show you how to survive in the wild with common, everyday items that any animal would have in their camping backpacks, such as this round of cork salvaged from a bottle of wine - er, I mean, King Orange Crush - and this handy bowl of water. We're making a compass today." He flourished the bowl, which sloshed out a little fluid. "Sorry, Rico, didn't mean to spray you."
"Gwansokay." Rico nodded to his commander and his commander's other love as they approached behind Kowalski, who concentrated on organizing his experiment's supplies. Private's expression held polite interest and no more while he cuddled his daughter.
Kowalski placed the bowl of water at his feet and held up the needle and cork. A stray sunbeam filtered through the pines to strike the sharpness. "The next step is to pierce the cork with the needle to form the active part of the demonstration of the awesome power of magnetism. You'll note that I magnetized the needle by stroking it atop the other piece of common, ordinary metal materiel that anyone might take camping, to wit, a folding pack shovel that serves as an implement for baking baking powder biscuits over coals, emergency percussion musical instrument for impromptu campfire singalongs, in addition to - "
"Lieutenant, get to the point. You're way over the kids' heads, humans drifted away for the time being and the afternoon won't last forever."
At his skipper's words, Kowalski's eyes shot wide, he spun, and the cork and needle flew eight feet into the air while he launched himself three feet only. "Sir! And Marlene! You should have announced yourselves!"
Marlene and Skipper had been holding hands, or their equivalent, during their walk to the group and at Kowalski's exclamation they parted ways, Marlene to plotz beside Rico and Skipper to place flippers akimbo. Marlene figured he opened his beak to blare a reprimand at hurling dangerous objects into the air, but she saw him visibly place skidchains on his tongue.
"Whoa, Kowalski, calm down or should I say, get gravid?"
At the loaded word, Kowalski deflated into giggles. "Hee hee, sir, that word, I'm sure you mean what I know it means and and and - "
"Yeah, I get it. I just said it to land you onto the tarmac." Skipper gestured behind him. "Mira, the humans skedaddled so let's enjoy the field, okay?" He turned to lead the way out to broad expanses of verdure that Marlene ached to roll around on. Speaking of, why not? She skipped past Skipper, twirled with paws outstretched and flopped her bottom onto the ground. She lay back and rolled one way and then the other as the grass tickled all her special spots.
Rico waddled into the clear with Tactic riding on his Jefe's substantial feet. "Oooooorgh," the boy offered.
"Ooooooooooorghsweetiepie," responded Marlene. She patted the space beside her. "Tikkicmere?" Never would she grab him now without an invitation since he'd matured a scosche because for one thing, she remained unsure of his ability to inherit his surrogate father's response to startling circumstances by burping explosives. She scoffed at her whackadoo notions sometimes, but hey, weren't stranger things possible? Like a male birthing eggs, for instance? She kept her gaze deliberately on Rico and Tactic.
Fuzzy brown Tactic kept in place as he eyed his sister, who had aped his behavior to ride on Father Private's feet. "Mrrglp."
"Daaahhhhorg," replied Sally. She, too, held fast and tight.
"Geroff, sweetlin', you can practice standin'," came the mild reproof from Private. "Come on, lazy buns." He shuffled his feet, yet Sally still clung to them. "Tactic, you, too!"
"Oh! I guess I'll have to put your flat feet on the ground," came a tenor from Skipper while he danced a jig, of all things, and then faced his group with flippers in a conductor's position, up high before the downbeat. "Singalong!"
"All you want to do is ride around, Sally, ride, Sally, ride," Kowalski began as Rico howled his Hamarskaftet Nunatak dialect version of the old song. Private shook his head before adding his countertenor.
"Alllllllll you want to do is ride around, Sally, ride, Sally, ride," Private wailed. He danced as Sally and Tactic bobbed their heads in the usual adorable baby response to music. Marlene rose to boogaloo around Private without touching him, making two circuits before orbiting Rico. Tactic and Rico bobbled in tune with a Funky Chicken. Skipper twirled as conductor before squawking the lyric that sounded like an order.
"Oh! I guess I'll have to put your flat feet on the ground." Skipper tugged Sally, whose precious beak opened in protest before she sucked in a breath that everyone knows presages loud, unpleasant vocalizations. Private watched the goings on between his legs calmly.
Marlene nodded to echo Kowalski's mild warning, "Sir, after about ninety days the chicks fledge, losing their downy newborn feathers, which are replaced with watertight, sub-adult feathers."
Skipper exchanged the tug for a tickle as Sally subsided into twitches topped off with a lopsided grin. "Look everyone, she's smiling! And what did you say, Science Boy, because that sounded like it came from a book and I'm sure as hell, uh heck, that you can't read." He reached over to chuck Tactic under the chin. "But we don't care, do we, Tikki?"
"Guys, what I think Kowalski means is that the kids will pass the first stage of babyhood in a few weeks and hey, let's enjoy them as they are? Cute and cuddly to the max?"
IOIOIOIOIO
Skipper beheld at his two loves, Private calm and Marlene the teensiest bit anxious that she offered her opinion about kids, since she didn't have any "or expect to", as she always added. A few weeks and they'd fledge to the point of his team of four's status when Fate shoved their iceberg away from kith and kin. And what was kith, anyway? He pondered these questions in his heart as summer's heat warmed him head to orange toe. The command issued from his beak with nary a qualm.
"Operation: Enjoy Them As They Are is a go."
"Roger that, sir."
"Aye, Skippa."
Private finally edged Sally off his feet to propel her gently at her own speed. She toddled, tumbled once onto her fluffy bottie and then got up with only a boost from Private. Private assumed the position that Skipper had observed with human parents: head down, trailing his youngster, flippers outstretched to save Sally from any fall whatsoever. Private's back was going to ache tonight.
Rico and Kowalski each took a flipper, just like in Marlene's painting which they had not seen yet, and walked super slowly while Tactic wobbled between them. The lad's eyes took in the horizon with no hesitation, his steps firming by the nanosecond.
Skipper choked up. "Sally, stay where we can see you. Don't wander away, Tikki darling," he managed to spew as protectprotectprotect swam full force in his veins; he did not know what to do with this emotion and pushed it far, far down in his gut. He suspected a fourth protect loomed, too, which would shoot his love for threes in the foot.
A good quarter of an hour passed in exploring this new facet of parenthood before humans ventured near to their location and thus the day passed in covert and overt enjoyment of Strawberry Fields. The afternoon's rays grew longer as the humidity of the day prevented sunset from cooling the air all that much. Skipper pulled his musing self back to duty when the sun slid below the horizon.
"Team, time to go home. We didn't set up our decoy hologram so Maurice The Zookeeper could suspect that something fishy is going on if none of us show."
"Feeeeeeeeesh!" bellowed Rico to the general burbling of his children.
"That's right, compadre," murmured Marlene. Skipper noted everyone appeared pleasant together, which was a commander's goal. Any rough spots in the relationships he could work on, or allow them to remain rough as long as missions got accomplished and the zoo flourished with all its new inhabitants: fuzzy penguin chicks, Red Rhodesian Slasher kits, a gazelle with liquid brown eyes, Nanny Goat's two kids, uncounted spider monkey babies ... and others he'd likely think of later. Oh right, a human baby, too. Marlene would not add to the zoo crew, well no she couldn't with him fathering outside his species, hell his class. Marlene knew this and he respected her choices. He turned to the immediate mission.
"Recon under the trees before bugging out, men. There's a needle among the pine needles oh you know what I mean. We always clean up our messes." Marlene cuddled two youngsters drowsy from their hours in the sun and progress with waddling.
"Go on, hunt, I'll watch over these kits, I mean chicks." She plotzed in the grass, seeming to glow with motherliness. Skipper shook off the illusion and directed his team.
"Rico, burp up a maglite, Kowalski and Private, eyes wide open now with Routine Twenty-Two: Pure Penguin Vision - ouch!"
Kowalski's baritone could have reached the Space Squids on Mars. "Attack alert! Private, Rico, defend with Routine Sixteen: Mix 'Em Up Melée Melange!"
Skipper would remember forever the twilit scene: Kowalski, Rico and Private hustling him inside their perimeter in battle stance, doing him so proud; Marlene gathering herself to flee to safety with the precious little ones; and himself, amazed, amused and astounded at his own response to -
"It's only a needle." He plucked it from his left great toe and passed it to Kowalski.
"Don't panic, sir! We're all here for you!" Kowalski shrilled.
"Chill. I'm copacetic."
The freshly mowed grass smelled like heaven.
"¡Aaaw! ¡¿En serio?!" Marlene's jaw dropped.
There, wasn't that the Evening Star? It was!
Private broke from the calm which lasted even through the battle's hustle. "Honey! You did it! Routine 101, everyone, Routine 101!"
"Proud." The team turned as one to Rico's clearly enounced word.
Earth abided.
IOIOIOIOIO
IOIOIOIOIO
IOIOIOIOIO
''Dere now! Wasn't dat being a nice story, full of de dramas and de laughings and de tears? You may be sure it is de truth, more or less, sometimes. Your drama king needs a longam smoothie now, Maurice. Mort, no touching de royal feet!''
IOIOIOIOIO
The End.
IOIOIOIOIO
Thanks to readers, lurkers and commenters both. Have a nice day, pronker
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Undertow