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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/?
- 14-14/?
- 15-15/?
- 16-16/?
- 17-17/?
- 18-18/?
- 19-19/?
- 20-20/?
- 21-21/?
- 22-22/?
- 23-23/?
- 24-24/?
- 25-25/?
- 26-26/?
- 27-27/?
- 28-28/?
- 29-29/?
- 30-30/?
- 31-31/?
- 32-32/?
- 33-33/?
- 34-34/?
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- 39-39/?
- 40-40/?
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- 48-48/?
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- 50-50/?
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- 80-80/?
- 81-81/?
- 82-82/?
- 83-83/?
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- 86-86/?
- 87-87/?
- 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/?
- 106-106/?
- 107-107/?
- 108-108/?
- 109-109/?
- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
- 112-112/112
- 30
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One cloudy midday, Alice's flung bucket of fish passed for lunchtime ambiance on the one day of the year that is a command, and the date inspired Private to tell Skipper what Marlene had advised. In the midst of the tête-à-tête, Kowalski and Rico returned from helping Marlene with spring cleaning for which she had promised them an oyster pie. In a zoo quieter than usual because kids prepared for their annual statewide proficiency tests, Private gathered his nerve. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear the groans as New York City's kids buckled down to study. He trusted that officials rewarded children with zoo visits and then applied himself to his own proficiency test. March Fourth, give me gumption, he thought.
Rico's burp hinted of oysters as he headed for the hatch. "Tired nao, 'Kipppaaahh."
Kowalski's eyes were heavy-lidded. "Marlene had us since first light vacuuming, going around her sink with a toothbrush dipped in Clorox and the rest is hazy except for her scrumptious oyster pie. I think we regrouted her ceiling at one point. Permission to nap, sir?" He blinked to alertness at seeing his commander and his commander's love in what Dr. Phil would call bargaining body language. "Unless you need us --- "
"Skippa, this is between you and me --- "
"Nap away, Martha Stewart and Associate. I've got this sitch covered." Skipper and Private sounded at odds and really, conflict management was beyond Kowalski's abilities at the moment. He sketched a salute before trudging after Rico. Skipper kicked the hatch cover over the hole to lend privacy.
"Weren't you done with travel, Private?"
Private sold his plan, deceptively casual. "Wellllll, it's just a little road trip for relaxin', innit? Two days, or three, you're gaga over anythin' in threes --- "
Skipper's mission planning mind went into overtime as he considered the idea fairly. "It'll take four to make it worthwhile. Rico and Kowalski could cover for me with Faux Skipper and for you with your adorable plushie. Let's see, three hours by car is about ten hours swimming, if it's close to water but if it's not --- "
Being Skipper's love was not easy, but then it hadn't been easy for Johnson to explain to Manfredi how Johnson's dozens of loves were little twinkling stars in the heavens so he wanted to tickle each one but when he met Manfredi and they clicked as pals, himmel! Manfredi was the full moon rising jammen, which outshone twinkles because true platonic heart's companions did stuff like that, Herregud!
"Dai. Ma, che sei grullo?" Manfredi had countered with an affectionate butt slap, so Private concluded their friendship sailed on despite choppy seas until their watery fates overtook them. If sharing body warmth over eight continents had led to sharing bodies, would that development have shattered their brotherly bonds or strengthened them? Private didn't know.
He stepped out with at least as much guts as Johnson, minus Johnson's international playbird history.
"Yesterday Mason said Phil signed it's just a little swim up a creek and the creek is one mile overland from the cavern and the crystals are gloryoutiful, his word or maybe Mason didn't get it quite right. Come along with me, Skippa, and we'll chat them up together." Private tugged Skipper's flipper and found resistance. "I know, I know, you're preferrin' Yellowstone --- "
Ever on the lookout for a break from what he couldn't commit to one hundred percent, Skipper seized on the new idea. "Yellowstone! Perfect for some future trip, you and I will hop on a plane or super blimp or something and take a week off for me to fill the gap in my national parks souvenir thimble collection." He nodded like a Brassard bobblehead doll. "Done and done, babe. Pencil me in for a trip like that."
Logic, emotional logic, was Private's forte as he pondered Marlene's words about quashing uneven play on life's teetertotter. "So you're sayin' you can wait until a future trip, you don't mind puttin' me through the wringer for months or years, much less your own self, when you and I could take Marlene's advice startin' a few days from now --- I see." He crossed his flippers and turned his back. "I see."
Skipper rubbed his neck. "You're yanking my chain or pulling on my heartstrings, I can't figure out which." He glanced at the buttermilk sky. "Every bit of snow's melted for the year in this weird winter, have you noticed?"
"Chitchattin' about the weather now? A bit obvious diversion, honey, but I forgive you."
"I can do subtle, I just don't like to." Skipper was going to rub off some neck feathers if he didn't stop, so he stopped. "Yeah, gloryoutiful, well, about those other things, babe --- "
"They'll work out. I trust Marlene."
Skipper regarded a passing cloud shaped like a halibut and Private thought he was about to yell at it in his trademark fashion, but he didn't. "Hell, I do, too, it's not that, it's, um, oysters? Toys? I have a bad feeling about this trip --- "
"Try? For me?" Private hurried on. "She says oysters are well known as aph-aph-aphrodisiacs although what yaks have to do with anythin' I'm sure I don't know."
Skipper snorted. "Somehow I don't want to mention Sasquatch and you and this sitch in the same sentence. She might have offered good advice, though. She had that experienced look."
Forgiving and forgetting were easier said than done. After nearly a year, Kastelholm returned in nightmares every so often, and Private didn't see that ending anytime soon. His voice hardened. "You mean before or after she tried to kill you and nearly did? Forget about her, Skippa. Think about us drizzlin' oyster glop all over and eatin' oysters after we lick their salty goo off each other and then, then playin' with this." He flourished the dildo sporting its blue ribbon. "It's a --- "
Now came the yell. "I know what the hell it is! She even named the thing! Aw, Private! Seeing it makes the sitch worse! No no no!"
"Whyever not?"
"No. Just no. I told you before that I don't go in for anything fancy like that."
Private whipped the toy behind his back. "And how is that workin' for you, hmmm?" Sky blue eyes met sapphire ones.
Dammit. Just ... dammit. "No fair."
"Righto, well, no fair to me, either. I'm just tryin' to understand and, and help." Private pivoted to pace like Skipper did every morning before his team to plan the day's missions. Every time his circuit crossed Skipper's position, he waggled the creamy dildo behind his back until Skipper was forced to look away, up, or down, whatever took the cylinder out of his view. It struck him that this, too, was bedroom maneuvers of a sort, because sex variations played a large part in any adult penguin discussions at the HQ's Nineteenth Hole bar whenever booze flowed and filters relaxed.
He didn't like it when that happened because he couldn't order his peers to change the subject.
"I need to consult my second, no offense, Private. He's napped long enough. I won't have either of them going soft."
Private would take any concession. "I'm good with that."
IOIOIOIOIO
In the cavern-like lair of Central Park Zoo's squad of commando penguins, soft sounds arose from the SuperKing bunk. For once, Rico emitted no bodily noises but Kowalski did. He sighed, grunted, and tittered in his sleep while his mind took flight from one of Skipper's confidences about a solo mission that had gone south, or rather, east. The dream constructed by a penguin genius' brain involved a hotel room in the sovereign nation of Japan and was as far from solo as it got ...
"Well, Rico, what shall it be this time? We've done the Groaning Water Buffalo Position, the Peanut Butter Wally Winkie Man Ticklefight Position, the Burmese Heptagon Augmented By Scented Candles Position --- "
Rico shrugged. "Cminsideme." He pointed. "Here."
"I could? I mean, yes, I could. That's right, I've never --- we've never in all these months had me being the one, er, breaching --- now why is that --- "
The two furrowed their brows, thinking hard, and then shrugged at each other. "That's right, I've not done you that particular vanilla way," mused Kowalski. He chuckled. "I like spicy cinnamon lattes topped with Mexican crema. Skipper got me started with that flavor, er, never mind how --- "
"C'monalreddy."
Kowalski put on the face that used to aggravate Doris but generally entranced Rico. "Impatient, are we? I like that in a lover. Ow! What was that for?"
"FuhgeddaboutKippppaaaahhhh."
"I never thought I'd hear you say those words, Rico. You must be on fire."
Rico's face said it all, a twisted mix of lust and frustration topped with a dollop of edginess. He placed his flippers on his hips with an escalating growl.
"Nao."
Kowalski acted on unconsidered impulse as he listened to his gut. He shoved Rico on top of the white chenille bedspread and obliterated his form while smothering him with his own taller body. Rico giggled until Kowalski squirmed into a sixty-nine position to do delightful things. Rico lay dazed after five minutes, breathing heavily.
An observer outside the dream would have seen Rico lying still as stone while Kowalski muttered unintelligible words.
"Yes, I know I've been inside you, Rico, but that was when you went marshmalloco and ate me --- oh not like that, stop it with the innuendoes and take your tongue off your flipper --- so you can understand why I hesitate." Kowalski had prepared Rico the best he knew how and still waffled about doing the actual deed. "You'll tell me if I hurt you?"
"MzPerkyduzzitwiffer --- "
"I don't want to hear about what you and Miss Perky did with anything. The blow up lifesize Skipper doll was enough to contemplate involving the both of you, for Kunis's sake." The bedsprings creaked as he lay beside his lover. "Noisy bed in these old hotels," he said with an experimental bounce, "but I discovered that the creaks help keep up rhythm when you get going."
Rico shoved Kowalski away with a commanding flipper and a disdainful sniff. "Wifwho?"
Kowalski pictured Rico's pouty lower beak in the semi darkness and wanted to lick it. "Not your business. You're the one I'm interested in now, or do you want to draw a picture for me in detail about what you got up to in Guatemala?"
"Hmmph. Diffrnt." Rico wriggled away until he no longer touched Kowalski.
Kowalski's dream self missed the contact of slick preened feathers and seductive body heat. "Different how? Because Xochi was a female? Let's face it, neither of us are each other's firsts." He rolled onto his stomach and waggled his butt. "Do you want to do me, instead?" It was a way out, it was a comfortable thing, and Kowalski could put off what he was nervous about. Yes, it was an excellent option. He held his breath without seeming to.
"Nah." At last, some progress was being made and they two would arrive at the playcation destination their love boat was predestined for. Rico flipped onto his back and spread his legs. "Reddy." Kowalski slid inside Rico and couldn't stop a groan.
A matching moan sounded from their commander on the other half of the queen-size bed. Near the headboard, Skipper's neck was pinned to the mattress by Private's beak in the traditional Routine Thirty-Four: Stay Still Until I Am Finished.
Rico and Kowalski paused their own encounter as they watched Private hammer Skipper into the shaking bedsprings. The counterfeit deutschemarks that faulty intel trusted were real fluttered around the two. Through the gloom enhanced by the closed vertical blinds, shadows claimed most of the action and they were too respectful to move closer or even squint much at the lovemaking. They did see, however, that Skipper's eyes darkened to a glazed indigo with pleasure. The strobing lights of Kyoto's Nishiki Fish Market district showed them that much.
How fortunate they had been that the hotel stood alone in the district and that delectable perfume of hundreds of varieties of fish met their nostrils all hours of the day and night. Although closing time neared for the markets, the neon signs still flared primary colors in Kyoto wintertime splendor.
"Crikey, I'm close," gritted out Private and Skipper moaned louder as he raked the sheets with his flippertips.
Kowalski whimpered, "Gah, that is so hot I can't even --- " Rico made a distressed sound of abandonment and Kowalski renewed his attentions.
It was a once in a lifetime event that they all came together and they knew it. Skipper's Log entry merely stated, "Missions accomplished. 'Nuff said ... "
The dream ended as Kowalski jerked awake when Skipper grabbed his pinkie claw. "Enough beauty sleep, soldier. Up and at 'em."
Clouds of fatigue parted slowly. "Huh?"
"I need intel pronto about an upstate road trip to Howe Caverns for me and the private. Can your fancy schmancy cell phone tell us the way when you won't be along? You know how the team treasures your sense of direction."
The dream that inspired half awake Kowalski to consider doing his love in real life using the traditional going-all-the-way fashion of untutored, non-commando penguins came about, he was certain, because of the closeness of their anniversary. Yes, it had been almost one year since Rico bowled him over with a passion-driven tackle in the watermelon snow on Fasta Island. Possibilities with Rico that only existed on the fringe of mad science with Doris flooded his groggy mind. Hmmm, the female principle experiment progressed decently and humans took nearly one year to ---
"Generate GPS from your phone? Is that an option, Kowalski? Wake up, man!"
Kowalski blinked slowly. "Huh, um. Apologies, sir. Er, yes, GPS uses driving apps like on the cab that we commandeered to deliver the pizzas on time and although using it for hiking hasn't been an option until now, I'm sure Phil could keyword search and find out how."
"Howe?"
"No, sir, how to find Howe."
"Hmmph, that place needs renaming. Put it on my agenda."
"Of course, sir, behind making St. Urho's Day a national holiday, or before?"
"Before. Survival in the wild comes first."
"It's done, sir."
"Wake Rico and let's move out to Simian Space."
IOIIIOIOIO
Mason and Phil proved too large to navigate the building's air ducts, so a discreet kaboom at the Zoovenir shop's back door allowed everyone entrance during the zoo clerk's break time. The two chimps took up usual positions, their rapport more contentious than usual. Three minutes after beginning an internet search, Phil covered his wide mouth and laughed as he signed to Mason.
It was obvious that Mason's tutoring of his partner in the finer points of manners had its limits. "Phil! You can't say that to them!"
Phil nodded hard enough to rattle his brains.
Mason slapped hands on narrow hips. "Now don't start with me."
Phil waggled his thumbs as he made kissy sounds.
"Stop bringing up my mother, for the love of --- " Private had to bridge this communication gap before Skipper lost ground to slippy slide from Maybe, Babe Territory into the No-No Zone. As unofficial morale officer, it was his duty.
"Say, um, Phil, wot were you goin' to say, I mean sign? We're tough. We can take it."
Protectprotectprotect echoed throughout the hallways of Skipper's shuttered mind as he twisted the rod to open the shutters to new ideas. "We're so tough that we don't need to prove we're tough, so we make like we're not so tough. Butter us up, simians."
Jaws dropped. "I don't believe I heard you correctly," said Mason as Phil used both hands to shut his mouth with a snap. "Did you change places with the real Skipper?"
Phil leaped down from his stool at the check out stand. The stand's computer hummed quietly as the internet does what the internet does best, asking questions for intelligent animals to ponder. "gps cobleskill creek howe caverns how far from central park zoo not howe far but how far" flashed in the google search box. Phil seized Skipper's head to look deeply into his eyes. He snapped a sign to Mason before resuming his place on the stool.
"Phil says it's really you."
Private couldn't believe the situation was going as well as it was until now. Minimal yelling and cursing for the win, as he had heard Mason quote Phil in internet speak at one point. He had his beak open to reply indignantly when Skipper beat him to the karate punch. "Of course it's me. No zapping to change my personality or funny camouflage suits, by O'Brien's King Kong glory, we're here to dig out answers, so spill the pinto beans, Phil."
"Skippa?" He would have to fix a thing or two about the squeak in his voice, but that day was not today.
"Private?" Skipper imitated the squeak with a wink and a grin.
Skipper appeared more decisive than ten minutes ago, something devoutly to be wished. Private relaxed. This trip would actually happen. Kowalski and Rico could have a private little vacation from two teammates, a bonus for them to be sure, and he and his love could enjoy couple time with no missions.
"It's a right go, then?"
"It is. Onward to planning the battle, er, agenda, er, I mean itinerary. Phil, if you will." And so the deed was accomplished and the instructions given for travel. The basics turned out quite simple, actually, because swimming up the Hudson to the Mohawk to Schoharie Creek sounded doable. Phil got straight to the business of finetuning more detailed information for the phone's download.
"Hmm," mused Skipper, "I'd still like your smartphone, Kowalski, since you're guarding the home front along with Rico. Can you instruct us in the doodadery protocols enough to function one way, at least? We'll return the same way."
"Wise choice, sir. Your trip will be a test of our inborn penguin navigational abilities versus GPS."
Kowalski blushed under his feathers at Skipper's next comment. "So you'll make the trip, too, in a figurative sense. Good thinking, soldier."
"D'aww, shucks." Kowalski turned as Mason chivied Phil.
"Phil, they don't want Exit 21 from Interstate 88, they'll be swimming up Schoharie Creek, not driving. Try again."
Phil's ears burned red. He tightened his lips and pounded on the keyboard. "Phil, you're indispensable to this trip," burst in Kowalski. "We appreciate you." Dr. Phil always said don't build yourself up by tearing others down or maybe it was somebody else. Kowalski leaped onto the check out stand, careful to not entangle himself in the cable connecting his phone with the magic of the computer.
Phil, Mason, and Kowalski consulted, tabulated, and entered data on the smartphone for the next ten minutes. The technobabble soared over Rico's head. "Boringrody," he grunted.
"A vacation in the Catskills, honey! Ooooh! I can hardly wait!"
Skipper addressed Rico's grump before his love's rhapsody. "Rico, technology is not your thing or mine but it's theirs and we're tough enough to deal with boredom, right?"
"Yahguessso."
Private had stars in his eyes, the darling. "Well, Private, you got your way --- "
"For the two of us, my way's right as rainbows."
"Um, I suppose. Onto practicalities." Skipper eyed the inventory before pointing to a rack. "I requisition that waterproof backpack. Rico, buy it from petty cash."
"'Kay." Rico fetched down the Hello Kitty backpack to a delighted squeal from Private, a snort from Skipper and a meh from himself. He spewed the correct payment to the penny by the cash register.
Mason, Phil, and Kowalski linked appendages when the work concluded as Kowalski crowed, "A learning curve! Phil says that the GPS coordinates are Latitude: 42.69484° N and Longitude: 74.39975° W with an elevation of 1017.8 feet! I was way off! I thought it was 1018.3 feet! Ha ha!" Phil, Mason, and he high-fived and high-oned, respectively.
"Yeah, I was worried about the extra six inches. So we rely on our ingrown navigational penguin abilities, however the hell they work, and your smartapple smartphone. Win win."
Private donned the backpack, jigging and jogging his way around the store. He drummed a tattoo on the plastic bin filled with plushy replicas of himself until one plopped into his grasp. "Skippa, I want one of these new ones for my body double when I'm away!"
"Indulge the b--- uh, man, Rico."
Rico burped more cash until he wheezed. "Outtamny."
"We'll take a dip into the wishing fountain on the way back and restock with coins, what say, group?"
Kowalski shook his head. "Not me. Phil wants to share a fascinating theory on how our beaks coordinate with our brain's trigeminal nerve using magnetite clumps to sense the dip in the angle that the earth's magnetic field makes with the ground, which indicates latitude, a supremely important part of navigation." Phil danced side to side in the way that chimps did, knocking his knuckles to the ground emphatically. He and Kowalski exchanged glances in purest Nerdese.
"Do tell. Mason, are you up for more gobblety translation?"
Mason sighed. "Blackmail works every time, Skipper." But the look the two chimps shared spoke of less shallow connections. "It's for Science!" Heavy footsteps sounded and the six animals beat feet for the store's back door.
"Boy, being salaried isn't everything it's cracked up to be, Maurice," came a voice both nasal and complaining. "Zoovenir's clerk left early and I'm on bean counter duty in the store till six. Take a hint and stay on hourly status, pal." Alice listened a minute on her walkie talkie. "Well right it's mainly sitting around duty, but still --- yeah I'm in a magical place stop asking --- good for you --- McSlade won last Tuesday in a landslide huh who cares --- "
Alice's conversation cut off as Rico eased the door shut. "Shesmellzfny."
"How, compadre?"
The explosives expert shrugged eloquently.
"I don't know what to make of it. Maybe something serious goes on with Alice. Maybe we shouldn't leave the zoo just now --- "
"Skippa, do you trust Kowalski and Rico and, and me to take over in your absence or d-demise?"
"No doubts at all."
"Then wotever comes up with the zoo, Alice, or the spider monkeys' planned St. Patrick's Day rampage can and will be handled without you, hypothetically. I need you to come with me to Howe. Agreed?"
A beat. "Agreed."
"You hesitated, sir."
"Did you expect me not to, Kowalski?"
"Not really, no."
"Then your assumption is correct. Happy?"
Private stepped up as morale officer for everyone, including the chimps. "Over the moon! Yay! We're off on St. Urho's Day! Yay! Road trip!"
IOIOIOIOIO
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