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Watermelon Snow
By : pronker
Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar
Views: 2672 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction using the Penguins of Madagascar characters owned by Dreamworks. -
Chapter List
- 1-Watermelon Snow
- 2-2/50
- 3-3/50
- 4-4/50
- 5-5/50
- 6-6/50
- 7-7/50
- 8-8/50
- 9-9/50
- 10-10/50
- 11-11/50
- 12-12/50
- 13-13/50
- 14-14/50
- 15-15/50
- 16-16/50
- 17-17/50
- 18-18/50
- 19-19/50
- 20-20/50
- 21-21/50
- 22-22/50
- 23-23/50
- 24-24/50
- 25-17-18/50 SLASH INTERLUDE BETWEEN CH. 17 AND 18. AU ON 'WATERMELON SNOW'
- 26-24A/50 SLASH VERSION OF CH. 24 FOR KICKS AND GIGGLES *** AU ***
- 27-25/50
- 28-26/50
- 29-27/50
- 30-28/50
- 31-29/50
- 32-30/50
- 33-31/50
- 34-32/50
- 35-33/50
- 36-34/50
- 37-35/50
- 38-36/50
- 39-37/50
- 40-38/50
- 41-39/50
- 42-40/50
- 43-41/50
- 44-42/50
- 45-43/50
- 46-44/50
- 47-45/50
- 48-46/50
- 49-47/50
- 50-48/50
- 51-49/50
- 52-50/51
- 53-51/51
"Helllooo, nurse."
"Skippa! You're awake!" Private scooted the freshened slop bucket back into place. "He's awake, everyone!"
The morning sun's angle was perfect for ricocheting down the entrance and its ramp to the habitat's interior to illuminate three little penguins' sunbeams of smiles. Skipper said nothing until the babbling died down. "Where is she?"
"'Kippahh!"
"You're safe from her, don't worry --- "
"Rico did everythin' he could to track --- "
"'Kippahhh!"
"Where. Is. She."
"'Kippahhhh!"
The interim leader said what he had to. "We don't know, sir. Rico did his best, but she got away."
"¡Ahhhhhh, dolor! ¡Dolor! ¡Ay Dios mío! ¡Ayúdame, María! --- ugh. Oh. Oh! Umph. Help me up."
"That's contraindicated by the circumstances. You need to rest, sir."
Private's voice trembled. "I thought you were dyin', Skippa. K'walski says you, you must um, rebuild blood volume, see if your spleen, wotever that is, recovers from the squishin' it got, and regrow your right pinkie claw." He pointed. "See?"
Skipper looked down his body. A sparkly Princess Self-Respectra Band-Aid covered the claw area. He yawned and then wiggled his foot. "Ouch. Okay, I'm out of the running, but you all --- "
Kowalski had been prepared for this. "We're out of our element, I don't have my lab, we lack backup like Marlene, Mason, or even Julien, I would even take Fred at this point, and intel is sketchy on what a Sasquatch can do, although we know more now. Basic command tenet is to regroup for a few days." He wasn't going to add what he was really thinking, but of course Private did.
"You're in bad shape, Skippa. You need us."
It shocked everyone except Kowalski when they weren't forced to hold Skipper down onto the massage-table-turned-sickbay. "Shupppooooose yr right 'bout thattttt," he slurred. "Caaaan't keeeep awaaaake --- zzz. Zzzzzz."
"Annnnd he's out again." Kowalski touched Skipper's forehead for a moment. "No signs of fever. I'll keep tabs on the general condition, Private, you join Rico topside. Do forty reps each of your favorite exercise and I don't want to hear any gripes." He waited. They froze. "Oh, all right. I'll join you in a few minutes." Private trooped up the ramp, but Rico stayed behind, swinging one foot and looking everywhere but at Kowalski.
"What's on your mind, Rico?"
"'Oooomanz."
"The humans! They'll check up on us if there are only three penguins showing for more than a day or so! Gah! I wasn't thinking! They'll squeeze down the ramp or unhinge the top of this place and take him away!"
Rico pulled Kowalski's flippers from the sides of his head. "C'n fix."
"A chainsaw won't fix this! A smoke bomb won't, either!"
Rico turned away to hack something up. He smoothed flat a rolled up plastic object. With a deep sigh, he presented it to Kowalski.
"A blow up lifesize Skipper doll? Where did this come from --- it doesn't have a Zoovenirs label on it --- did you make this?"
Rico got indignant. "Nuh uh! 'iss Perky ordrd --- "
"I don't want to know more. Forget I asked. It's just the thing, Rico. Blow it up down here so nobody else sees."
Rico placed his beak so carefully on the valve at the bottom seam that Kowalski knew this was the result of long practice. He busied himself with tidying their habitat, stealing glances now and then until a matte Skipper got tucked under Rico's flipper. "Gooooood, hah? Hah?"
Kowalski poked tentatively at the doll. "It's good for a while. I calculate that Skipper will be more or less himself again in six and three sixteenths' days. Let's be gentle with the doll so it lasts."
Rico patted the real Skipper's head before he waddled up the ramp. Kowalski centered the pillow underneath the same head as he mumbled, "I just don't know about Rico sometimes, Skipper."
Skipper made no comment.
IOIOIOIOIO
Two days past the beginning of Operation: Recovery From Private's First March, Rico, Private, and Kowalski got more inventive with their Skipper dolly. Scores of children and sometimes their carers gathered to see penguin volleyball, penguin ice hockey, penguin lacrosse, and penguin synchronized swimming. Faux Skipper withstood a lot of abuse and needed only intermittent blowing up by Rico to refresh his roly-poly shape. If the three were taking out their frustrations by hitting Faux Skipper a little too hard when he played goalie at hockey or lacrosse, no human noticed it. Faux Skipper was a whiz at synchronized swimming and whenever he 'stood' atop their three-penguin support column, his smile never faltered.
One little boy and his parents cheered especially for the lacrosse scrum when it got out of hand and Faux Skipper was trampled almost to the point of popping. Only Imelda ever saw them use Faux Skipper as the ball when they played after-hours soccer one night, and she knew how to keep a secret.
IOIOIOIOIO
"Wot do you think, K'walski, does Skippa's old insomnia problem seem beat, then?" The injured penguin lay insensate for hours on end in the daytime. When he awakened for brief times in the dead flatness of midnight or beyond, bleary eyes saw to his needs, cracked voices mumbled reassurances, and mornings always came too soon.
"He's like a hatchling who mixes up the days and nights. I don't even know if I'm hungry or not." Kowalski poked disconsolately at his mackerel. "I'm wasted, how about you?"
Private downed his portion with gusto. "No, never better."
"Ah, youth." Kowalski nearly nodded off over his meal and when Skipper awakened a little afterwards, he gestured to Rico. "Feeding time at the zoo, big fella."
Rico jumped onto the massage table to stand over Skipper.
"Open wide, sir. Here comes brunch," the second in command said around a yawn.
Rico looked eager as he always did to do his part. His stomach rippled.
"Not happening. I refuse to be a baby ever again. Twice per existence is enough." Skipper clamped his beak shut.
Kowalski's mood was cranky, too. "Oh, come on. You need food to regain strength. It was all right the times before, why not now? Cooperate here, Skipper."
"No no no!" Skipper's point of not being a baby was blunted by petulance.
Even Kowalski's nurturing instinct had its limits. He was about to order a completely unacceptable display of insubordinate force when inspiration struck. "Oh, Skip-per, Kitka would feed you another way. Don't you want to find out her method? Kit-ka, Skipper, Kittt-kaaa ---"
"Mmmmm, Kitka, I can taste her kisses now --- on third thought, no. I'm not hungry."
Private broke in. "Skippa, deep down you know we're right. Give K'walski's idea a go, wot say?"
Rico saw which way the wind was blowing and re-swallowed his gutful of mashed fish. "Wha ya gonna do," he said to Kowalski, and this time the expression wasn't accompanied by a shrug. He really wanted to know.
Kowalski's brain went into high gear. He took his own unfinished portion of fish and peeled healthy Omega-3 bits from the unprotesting mackerel, selecting only the choicest portions of rib and back to lay in a row. "You're not ready for full meals, Skipper, just take hatchling steps getting back to normal, that's what Imelda said to do, only she said cub steps. If Kitka had hatchlings, this is the way she would have fed them" --- he stopped, aghast --- "not that I'm suggesting she's your baby mama, er, oh never --- "
"There's that imagination again, Kowalski. We talked about this." Yet Skipper submitted when Kowalski pushed the tenders down his throat and their eyes met in a rare moment of parity between Command and Science Divisions. Skipper fell asleep again after a few bites, but it was better than nothing. The three wouldn't have admitted to needing a break from caregiving as they swam away some tension and chose only one layout spot for them all in the weak sunshine.
"Little meals and often, Imelda says. I'm on it, I'm on it, Imelda." Kowalski rubbed his neck. "Or it's on me."
Rico didn't need prompting to take up the massage. He kneaded until Kowalski yipped. "Sowwy."
"I'm thinkin' he's a challenge to care for any road, gents." Private indulged in a rare criticism.
"Wurfit."
"Goes without sayin', Rico. I just mean it's so hard."
Kowalski rolled over and motioned to his back. Rico took the right side and Private the left. Karate chops stuttered over muscles until Kowalski felt himself driven into the consistency of overcooked pasta. It was most agreeable. "Back to business," he said after a time.
"I'll check on him, shall I, no, you two old-timers keep layin' about like layabouts, that's all right --- " Private giggled as he slid backwards into the water. There was nothing handy to throw at him.
"Youf."
"Right, Rico. Youth. He was outstanding at Kastelholm, though."
"Aw grown up." Rico massaged some more.
"Not-used-to-think-ing-that-a-bout-him. U-sing pe-triss-age? That's-a-new-tech-nique-for-you-uh-uh-oh-yeah-oh-yeah-good-good-fan-tas-tic. Now scissoring. Ahem. Yes. And we finish with effleurage, oh that's superb." Kowalski would have rolled his shoulders, but he didn't want to move. "You ought to have been at the massage station at Hoboken Zoo. You're really awesome at this."
Rico's laugh rumbled against Kowalski's back as he slapped the muscular planes of penguin flesh and stood up. "Lesgo."
IOIOIOIOIO
TBC
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