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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/?
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- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
- 112-112/112
- 19
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- 21
"Anybody up for wrestling?" asked Skipper.   All of a sudden, getting physical sounded like an excelente way to celebrate Black Friday. Talking and eating and singing were all pretty sedentary, when you got right down to it. Except for him arising early to meet Frankie, the team had goldbricked all the livelong day and now it was evening.
"I am! I am, Skippa!"
"Rico and me, not so much, sir. Rain check?" Skipper nodded as he circled Private like a tiger shark in the Coral Sea at dawn. He slapped his thighs before bending to the floor to select an infinitesimal bit of grit. He tossed it into an imaginary ring. Private looked wise; sumo it was to be. The young penguin splayed his thighs, glared at his love and kicked another piece of grit into the ring. The tidiness lobe of Skipper's mind whispered housecleaning can wait until after the holiday.
After stomping as Roy and Burt had done in their haka performance, Private came at Skipper like Hakuho. "Hiyaaaaaahhh!"
"Eeeeyah!" offered Skipper, mirroring the stance as he furrowed his forehead, thighs wide.
Private grabbed the commander's middle to thrust upwards. Both Skipper's feet rose from the floor, but he fought dirty. He exhaled forcefully, Private failed to tighten his grip quickly enough and the feet hit ground once more. Skipper slid his flippers inside the grip with a master's technique, flippertips slicing close to Private's skin through the feathers without drawing blood. Private gasped, yet kept his grip as he strained to topple his friendly foe. Every back muscle came into play with the effort.
Skipper cupped a butt cheek in each flipper, spread his legs further and heaved. Now Private's feet dangled and he lost his grip, whipping into a non-regulation karate neck chop instead. The chop met corded muscle that did not give. Face to face, both expressions intent on the win, the two were well-matched.
Private pulled another kinjite of his own. He headbutted with his beak pointed straight down for safety and their noggins clinked like beer steins. Skipper rolled his head on his neck and fell backwards, all sumo to the end as he forfeited the match, although his honor dictated that he fall inside the ring. Since the style the team practiced skirted strict sumo rules, the whole match could be termed sumo lite. They lay together as close as two eggs in a clutch, panting.
"Now, Skippa, roll on top of me like you did last on our date number Five at the Riverdance movie in the zoo's 4-D Theater."
"Oh ho, ready for more? I've got moves I've never tried on you --- "
Kowalski and Rico eyed each other and took one step back and one apart.
"Wot? It's not wot you think --- hang about, there's no way to make this sound good. See, I had a nightmare and he grabbed me and I jumped him by commando reflex."
Skipper jumped into the explanation himself. "He fell asleep at the grand finale, that was it, really. He might be a touch blasé about dancing humans. I enjoyed all the show, though. They danced like prancing horses, like, like maybe that poor horse looked when she was young."
Private, Rico and Kowalski sobered. "Life is short, so go for the gusto, sir?" Kowalski and Rico linked flippers and tilted their heads together. Skipper avoided Private's gaze as he gained his feet to offer an assist in rising.
"Something like that. Hey, speaking of, how about some of the gin and beer you mentioned in the poem last night?   A Dog's Nose, anyone? Not yet for you, Private."
"And why not? I'm ready for a cuppa --- of booze."
Skipper raised a flipper to shake it in a scold and then put it back at his side. "Um."
"Aw, lettim."
"I think he's ready, too, sir."
The time was ripe, as ripe as young Private. "All right, break out the booze for a nightcap." Heart thumping, Skipper switched the dial on the pivoting door's built in safe to 'bar' and turned the handle. A few dusty travel size bottles rested within. "Your choice, Private."
Private grabbed the first one without looking, breathing fast. "Green! It's green ... wot is it?"
"Gammel Dansk. Outstanding choice, soldier. Now just a little bit, you're not used to spirits. There."
Blushing under being center of attention, Private wet his whistle and managed not to choke. "Mmmm. Smooth and, and tasty. I like it!"
After Skipper saw Private's watery eyes uncross, he took the bottle for a sip before passing it along to Rico, who chugged a bigger swallow than Kowalski.   Skipper, Rico and Kowalski nodded among themselves as Private wiped his eyes free of tears. The nod said volumes before Skipper managed, "See, men, he's ready, he's adult and he's mine." Skipper pulled Private closer for a chuck under the chin. "We're heading topside to enjoy the night. Wait up or not, it doesn't matter."
Private brushed it off. "Ready? Ready for wot?"
"Oh, big boy stuff, Private. You'll like it." Kowalski grew tender with the young bird he'd seen hatch before his eyes. "Don't be afraid."
Rico hugged Private hard. "Luvya, kiddo."
"Well, sure, Rico, agape, righto?"
"Yah. Yah."
"And I love you, too, Private, in the aforementioned way. Really," Kowalski sniffled.
"Catchin' our colds, K'walski? I'm sorry!"
"No, no, just allergies or a passing whiff of onion from leftover Thanksgiving stuffing, um, never mind." The scientist cleared his throat with a pointed look at Skipper.   "Be kind to him, sir."
Skipper's voice was soft. "He'll wind up none the worse, you'll see. Good night, men. Be back in a bit."
Private's gaze swept downward to his flippers clasped at his middle and his toes turned inward as he nearly stepped on his own feet. Kowalski took the situation at face value. "I do see. I make no judgments. Come along, Rico, you can help me with calibrating something in the lab. Bring your wellies."
Private took a while to get the unspoken message, but he did get it. He blinked once before his eyes grew as round as the watermelon they'd had for dessert yesterday.
"You and your imagination, K'walski. Sheesh. You, too, Rico. I'm shocked at the very idea," Private addressed to their retreating backs before the lab's door clanged shut behind them.
Skipper made an indiscriminate noise. "I'm shocked at myself for thinking the very idea, too, Private, but I like it." He drew a flipper around Private's shoulders.   He fluffed the feathers there before smoothing them down again. "Even if nothing happened on that date what Kowalski and Rico were on about, you're cute as an Adélie penguin."
"Skippa, I don't think I've ever met one who was male."
Skipper accessed the mental closet where a dearly missed image emerged from the team's keepsake cabinet. It was a glassed in hutch that held the metaphoric figurines of Manfredi, Johnson, and Xochi. Skipper was general Keeper of the Archives, but any team member accessed the cabinet at will. He blew away dust motes from an exquisite female carving and held it up to light before reshelving it and shutting the door. "They're cute because Xochi was cute and what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander or some folk saying like that, so take my word for it, they're cute."
"So you see me as cute? I think the same! Er, I mean not about me bein' cute, but you're cute, oh you know wot I mean."
It was difficult to hold back without acting on his impulse, but Skipper possessed discipline he'd never even used yet. He spoke half to himself, half to Private. "I've never gone past second base --- not with a male --- "
"It's not so hard, surely?"
"Oh, it's hard, all right." Skipper closed his eyes and willed himself to calm before looking at the blank space that Rico and Kowalski occupied moments before. There was a crash! and tinkle! from the lab, business as usual.
"I'll preen you first and then we'll jolly well see wot happens."
Skipper plotzed without being asked and it was as if the lair held dazzling disco balls as Private crooned to himself while digging his beak into oil glands. He alternated between his own and Skipper's until Skipper could hardly keep still. The beak dipped low to where each feather grew from a dimple and then slicked outwards with a gleepsh sound that threatened to drive Skipper crazy. The disco ball spun and before he knew it, Private upended him to reach those hard to get places. "Aaaah, st-stop psshhhhbip wigglin'."
"You stop! Right this minute! I'm going to explode if you don't!"
"Ooooh, a little previous, are we?"
slap slap tickle slap tickle pinch
"Alllll done."
"Fantastic!"
"Get your breath. Sorry I was a tease, it just comes naturally, I suppose."
Skipper's ribs heaved. "D-Don't ever change, promise me. I love you this way."
"Right back at you, Skippa." Private helped Skipper up, patting and smoothing endlessly as if he couldn't get enough of feeling the shiny waterproofed coat.
Skipper asked the easiest question he'd ever need to pose. "Would you consider accepting my pebble?"
Private's eyes filled. "Only if you'll accept mine. That's the way it works for me."
Both penguins bent to their commonplace cement floor and each found a bit of grit. They pressed it into each other's flippers, then threw it per tradition into the nearest water. Naturally, the two bits bounced off the glass porthole and were lost among the other bits on the floor. There would be no sentimental keeping of the things; they were the outward symbols of an invisible bond.
In a spasm of joy, Private kissed Skipper until both grew out of breath. "Black Friday and we two found somethin' priceless to buy, right, Skippa?"
Skipper made doe eyes and had his beak open to blubber out a sappy reply when Private shifted away from his embrace to face him dead on. "And no more Chinstraps or Violas or Kitkas or Dorises or any bloody others, are we clear?"
"Not even once?"
"No."
"Oh." To his chagrin, Skipper channeled Ringtail in his mind's eye. The lemur belted out Waiting for the flame to burn again with a questioning look in his golden eyes and the answer was yes. Skipper initiated the issue because he wasn't quite ready to hear Private ask such a question. "Wanna braap, then?"
"Wot do you think?"
IOIOIOIIIO
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Undertow