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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/?
- 35-35/?
- 36-36/?
- 37-37/?
- 38-38/?
- 39-39/?
- 40-40/?
- 41-41/?
- 42-42/?
- 43-43/?
- 44-44/?
- 45-45/?
- 46-46/?
- 47-47/?
- 48-48/?
- 49-49/?
- 50-50/?
- 51-51/?
- 52-52/?
- 53-53/?
- 54-54/?
- 55-55/?
- 56-56/?
- 57-57/?
- 58-58/?
- 59-59/?
- 60-60/?
- 61-61/?
- 62-62/?
- 63-63/?
- 64-64/?
- 65-65/?
- 66-66/?
- 67-67/?
- 68-68/?
- 69-69/?
- 70-70/?
- 71-71/?
- 72-72/?
- 73-73/?
- 74-74/?
- 75-75/?
- 76-76/?
- 77-77/?
- 78-78/?
- 79-79/?
- 80-80/?
- 81-81/?
- 82-82/?
- 83-83/?
- 84-84/?
- 85-85/?
- 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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Kowalski asked a nearby egret why Little Egg Harbor was named Little Egg Harbor. "It ain't 'cause our eggs are little, bubbeleh. It's 'cause this harbor is littler than other Joisey harbors." The egret sniffed. "Take it from me, penguin, 'cause that's what you are, right? I mean, I never seen a penguin but I think that's what you are --- "
"You are correct, my good bird."
"Call me Bob."
"And I'm Kowalski."
"Naw, you're kidding, right?"
"Wrong."
"No way! No frackalackin way! There's a statue of a Pulaski right over there" --- Bob pointed a snowy wing to the northwest --- "and me and my flock decorate it now and again ... oh. Sorry. Heh."
Kowalski was intrigued. "I never guessed a fellow penguin named Pulaski deserved a statue! What was it for? In what era? Was Pulaski male or female?"
"Aw, you New Yorkers is all the same, yakkity yak with the questions. Did I say statue of a penguin? It's of a human, booby."
"Oh. Color me uninterested, Bob. And you might not want to call anyone a booby, especially me. Boobies are not known for their intelligence, but only for their blue feet."
"No fooling! I thought boobies was soft, or was it perky?" Bob wrinkled his forehead to show great processes of thought. "Now that I come to think of it, boobies are a kind of pillow. Yeah, now that you mention it, it is a dumb thing to call any animal. Except maybe a duck, 'cause of the feathers for a pillow, y'know."
"Bob, by any chance would you be acquainted with a squirrel named Fred?"
Bob was still mulling over his answer when Kowalski made his escape through the waving oat grass. Rising over the dune, the sun shone pleasantly on a fall morning that promised a day at the beach to remember. Waves sloshed rather than crashed. As Kowalski made his way back to his team from securing a wider perimeter than usual, he counted the waves. He studied each seventh wave. No, there was nothing different about Wave Number Seven, unless ... he thought harder. A fair weather day produces swells in groups of twelve to sixteen waves. That number, and because the tallest waves cluster in the middle of the group, provides a basis for the seventh wave is always highest axiom. Kowalski swelled his chest. Another myth busted! It could be the source of an academic paper, if he could read and write. Oh well. Life held many other challenges, and speaking of which ...
"Hey, Rico! Where are you haring off to?"
Rico shouted over his shoulder. "Cowabunggggga!"
The challenge was set, met and matched as Kowalski shouted back, "Those are some gnarly waves, dude! Here I come!"
Two little penguins in love splashed and surfed like they were born to the water, which of course they were. Private and Skipper lay side by side and watched their teammates flash in and out of sight as they played.
"Two hours to get here on the back bumper of a smelly bus, Private, was this worth it, o qué?" Skipper slurped a morning smoothie, a farewell gift from the lemurs to the penguins. He suspected Ringtail put Maurice up to presenting the smoothies as pay forward for some scheme to shake up the zoo's peaceful day when annoying commandos were absent. Mort hadn't been able to hide his giggles, anyway.
"Skippa, it's a classic beach trip. Thank you." Skipper half expected a hug or pat, but when that didn't happen, he chalked it up to Private's growing maturity. Ever since Åland, the lad was not so much a lad as a penguin in his early prime. Skipper let the remark stand and continued watching the waves. The sea called to him.
"Want another dip? Maybe out to Mystic Island?"
"Not right now. I'm copacidic." Something about the word mystic penetrated to Private's soul and he shivered.
"Hee, you're cute."
Private regarded his commander steadily. "I am? So are you."
"Er, uh, I mean the term is copacetic."
Private turned back to the water. "Oh. Copacetic."
For four hours, Rico and Kowalski frolicked freely in the furling froth. When they tired and rejoined their team, Rico looked around. "'Kippaaaahhh?"
"He's off behind the oat grass, Rico, to get rid of some smoothie. Great water today, isn't it?"
"Yah. Gud idea, 'Rivate." Rico plotzed by Kowalski and the two flopped backwards in unison. Warm autumn sun bathed the trio into blissful states.
"Noon," Private said finally.
Kowalski opened a lazy eye to gauge the sun. "And seventeen seconds. Good job."
"I've got somethin' big to tell Skippa, and I promised myself noon as a deadline."
Rico cracked open both eyes. "Yukay?"
"More okay than I've ever been, gents."
Kowalski sat up. "Create your life from the inside out."
"Dr. Phil, then?"
"Dr. Phil. Whatever it is, I --- we --- are happy for you, Private." Rico sat up to encircle his love's neck and pull him into a cuddle.
"Yah!"
Private sniffled. "Oh you two." Kowalski pulled him closer and swayed the three of them together.
"I f-feel like a Vikin', all brave and darin'," Private said into Kowalski's chest.
Kowalski looked at Rico and pretended to cry. "Our little brother in black and white, Rico, all grown up to be a Viking!"
"Yah boo hoo hoo hoo --- " Rico stopped. "'Kippaaahhhhatesem."
"I don't think he's feeling that Norse bee in his Åland bonnet still, but let's not tell him about the resort called Viking Village And Boardwalk on Fenwick Island. Delaware isn't ready for a full-scale commando penguin invasion --- "
Skipper moved silently behind them like the superb covert operative he was. "What was that, soldier? Keeping secrets from me about Vikings at large in Our Great Country? Let's roll!"
"Get him! Ow! All of us together, mates! Ow! Ow! Ow! Flippin' ouch!"
Even laughing like a hyena subjected to a big whiff of nitrous oxide, Skipper was formidable and held off most of the attack from flat on his back. "I'm kidding! Sheesh! Ow, not the belly, Private!"
Private stopped on a dime. "I --- I --- don't say that ever ever again --- "
"Gotcha! I'm all better, no holds barred." Skipper administered the worst head feather ruffling in penguin history as Kowalski chased Rico back towards the sea.
Private recovered from the flashback of Kastelholm. "You won't mind ticklin', then. I know how" --- he went for the notch of the throat where black feathers met white --- "and where" --- now the pits --- "and how much." At last he got to the bottom of things, the soles of the feet.
"S-S-Stop, I give." Limp as lo mein, Skipper lay at Private's mercy. Private flopped down beside him in the sand again.
Rico and Kowalski had wandered off someplace together, not that Skipper or Private were surprised. The ocean beckoned with waves aching to be surfed. In fact, there they were now, shooting a curl. Science and Ordnance sure got along better after Åland, mused Skipper, and the weeks Rico and Kowalski spent sleeping in what mattress dealers called a marital bed smoothed out any glitches that the enforced camaraderie would seem to have caused. Now Science and Ordnance shared a bunk in New York City, too, who would have thought it?
Private had shoved away thinking about himself and his commander long enough. He thought hard about how to broach the subject nearest his heart. "Skippa, do you remember my 'special briefin' on top of Kastelholm?"
Skipper smoothed his feathers after the teasing tickles had fluffed them beyond fluffy. "Why would I ever forget it?"
"Welllll, it was around the time of your big hurt and you forgot about the ice worms until later --- "
"Nope. I remember all the briefing. What, you have some questions on what we talked about?"
Private lay flat and raised his soles to the bright sun. He spread his flippers and exposed his pits to the sun, too, and enjoyed the sensuality of the moment by opening himself to bright light in places that rarely saw it. A stray thought needed expressing before he got to the down and dirty. "I, I might. Do you think monkfish, you know, enjoy life or do they live like, you know, monks?"
"Monkfish are fish and have a fish's morality. They're part of Mama Nature and enjoy what she gave us all to enjoy. They are not capable of doing anything as elevated as living like a holy monk even if they knew what that meant." Skipper propped himself up on one flipper to regard his secret crush. "Why the question?"
Private took a deep breath and contemplated a lone cloud that threatened to blot out the sun. He brought his flippers over his eyes and introduced his heart's desire at last. "I don't fancy bein' a monk, Skippa."
"Whaaaaat?"
"Um, when you said in the briefin' that K'walski wanted to be more than friends with Doris, it made me think and well this is the first time I had the brass to bring it up to you that I want to, to be more than friends with you please don't say no."
With his eyes still covered, he couldn't see Skipper's stunned expression. Several minutes passed and then Private felt his face being uncovered. He mustered up the courage to open his eyes. Skipper looked at odds with himself.
"Soldier, do you realize what you're saying? Do you know what those words imply? And, why me?"
The cloud drifted away from the sun towards dry land as the afternoon breeze drove it. Private's words burst forth like a freed ray of sunlight. "You mean more to me than anythin' else, Skippa. I want to be in your bunk forever."
Last night's dream within a dream within a dream began to make sense as Skipper freed words he’d thought unlikely to ever say. "Well. I do love you, but this scenario is uh uh er --- "
"Gobsmackin'?"
"I think it is, yeah that's the right word, guv'na. Give me a moment."
The cloud drifted farther and farther away as Private clung to it figuratively in hopes it would not be dashed up against the coastal hills to disappear forever.
At last Skipper spoke and his voice took on meaning like Private had heard only a few times before. "You realize that what I would want from you won't be anything like you've ever had? Do you understand that I don't allow anything needle-shaped coming anywhere near me?" He swallowed hard. "I'm just made that way. I thought awhile back that my fear had gotten better with time, but it hasn't. I don't know if it ever will."
"I know you'll always top, Skippa, if that's wot you mean. I'm not afraid."
"I might be. It's not anything I've ever done before."
"Wot? With all your Chinstrap Sisters and Violas and Dorises and Kitkas --- hang on, I saw you with Kitka --- and a gazillion others that none of us know about on those solo missions --- "
Now Skipper tracked the movement of the errant cloud, too. It had reached the area of the warmed hills where uneven updrafts shifted it this way and that. The naive words sank in and he frowned. "Solo missions away from my regular team are work, Private, so I don't know what you are insinuating here. They're always on a tight schedule to coordinate with other operatives that I've generally never met before and it takes getting used to another penguin's working style for optimum success --- " He stopped as he saw that this information whooshed over Private's head. Very well, personal talk it would be. The cloud sheered various directions as if it were a kite on an unsteady string. "I mean with another male. I've been sheltered in some ways."
Private snorted as he propped himself up on an elbow, too. "You? Sheltered? Wot about your Kyoto story with the douchemarks on the bed --- "
"That's deutschemarks and they don't use them anymore and no, it's another time that I came close to being raped but escaped." The commander shrugged, a difficult task lying on his side but he managed it. "Manfredi knew the truth when he saw me drugged and spreadeagled yet still, um, intact. He and Johnson saved me from Gacy's advances while the rest of you captured his gang that godawful afternoon. You team deployed Wild Mass Guessing about what happened in that warehouse and I never corrected you." His voice got the usual sober tone when discussing Manfredi and Johnson. "It seems those two knuckleheads didn't explain, either."
"Oh, Skippa, I was there but I didn't know. How hideous." Private couldn't find the proper words. "I'd never --- "
"No, you're damned right you'd never. You'd ask me to act the victim in some sexy scenario and I'd say no because I'm built that way no matter who tops who. I don't like roleplaying or spanking or dressup or anything, either. I'm just a straight penguin, I guess. Sort of boring. Kitka said so when she left me."
"Hmmm, righto, you are a purist, Skippa." The words clicked. "She left you?"
"She got mad when I said we ought to see other people. Not mad enough to never want to see me again or kick me out of her nest when I visited her for make up sex, but mad enough to say some shit. I guess what she said was true enough. I didn't fight with her about it."
Private's dander rose. "She's got some nerve. Why on earth did you want to see her again after all that muck?"
"Well. I don't know what to tell you, Private. We got along most times and the sex was good, so --- "
"Stop talkin' about sex. Please."
"You're a virgin and you can't understand."
"And just how do you know that?"
"Huh? Because you're never out of my sight."
Private flipped over onto his back. He turned his head to track the cloud, which was now a mere wisp up against the hills. "I was captured by Dave for some days, if you remember."
Skipper could hardly choke out his next sentence. "I will track him down and make him bleed if he did anything or had anything done to you --- "
"Nothin' like that happened to me then or when you were gone on your solo missions."
The commander's breathing returned to normal. "Whether I'm present or not, I trust Kowalski and Rico to protect all members of our team whenever they need it. That includes me and you and them and us and don't confuse the issue."
Private blushed under his feathers. "Um, I lost track of the issue."
"Whether or not there should be an us. Whether we should become an item."
"Whether we should have sex."
Skipper wrenched himself away to present his back to his subordinate. "Allenby's lancers! I can't even speak the words when it comes to you!"
Private spooned against the muscles he yearned to caress and rubbed the point of Skipper's shoulder. "Sex. S-e-e-e-x-x-x. See, it's not that hard."
"Says you."
"Ooooh, got a little flourish for me already, then? I knew you could do it." Private spotted Rico and Kowalski's approach. "Let's keep this between you and me for the time bein'."
"I wouldn't know what to say to them. This might break up the team. We need to think this through."
Private looked over his shoulder and noticed that Kowalski and Rico had their flippers around each other. "I'm thinkin', Skippa, that you'd not shock them as much as you suppose. But, enough for today."
Skipper squirmed in the sand. "Thanks to you, I need to think cold shower thoughts."
"Think of a rough loofah or, or shiverin' in the shower because K'walski and Rico used up all the hot water. Think of goosepimples or shower curtains with rainbows and puppies on them. Wait, I know how to help." Private vaulted over Skipper and caught sight of what he'd need to deal with if all turned out to his liking. In the natural course of living together for so long, he'd seen it before many times but never at full staff. "Mmmmm. Nice." He scooped a pile of wet sand on it.
"Aaaaaaa! What are you doing!" Skipper turned over to his back and covered himself to prevent any more chilling. In a trice, Private buried his leader in wet sand and then frosted him with drier, more powdery sand. Skipper looked like a Dairy Queen vanilla shake with cinnamon sprinkles when he was done.
Kowalski and Rico had parted when they waddled nearer to Skipper and Private. Kowalski stood so as to shade Skipper's eyes from the sun as his helpless commander stared up at his team. The cloud was nowhere to be seen.
"Having fun, sir?"
"You know I always love the beach who's got the volleyball I'm up for some volleyball --- "
Private broke in. "He was plottin' to take out some Scandinavian warriors in Delaware. I set him straight. Always up, that's him." From where he stood, Kowalski and Rico couldn't see his face and so he winked saucily at his leader.
Rico seemed to understand more of the sitch than Kowalski did. "Nao bee lvr not fiter, 'Kippaaah."
Skipper shot a look to the youngest penguin that promised more consequences to the wink than Private was sure he could handle. The delicious uncertainty made him tremble. The look descended upon Rico and Private saw the two nodding in secret communication while Kowalski remained oblivious to the subtext. "Maybe," Skipper allowed. "I'll think it over. Now get me out of this mini golf sandtrap." He winked at Private. "With as few strokes as possible."
IOIOIOIOOIO
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Undertow