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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/?
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- 93-93/?
- 94-94/?
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- 96-96/?
- 97-97/?
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- 99-99/?
- 100-100/?
- 101-101/?
- 102-102/?
- 103-103/?
- 104-104/?
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- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
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- 72
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The fourth full night of Operation: Tag Team Parenting began with an offhand question from Skipper following chow. It was one he expected himself to pose far earlier than four days after the fact, he moaned to himself in the midst of a yawn. "Well, men, what did the rest of the zoo think of the whole egg sitch that first night? And because Ringtail is Ringtail, what did Ringtail think in particular as self-proclaimed King? My only stop was Burt's habitat the day, er, the night after when I did my zoo walkabout before, before Egg Number Two arrived to launch Operation: Tag Team P-Parenting. That was Tuesday, this is Friday evening, so spill." His mood plummeted when he considered that Friday night was Date Night, and this was how he was spending his precious date time. The penguin who he desired had completed a half shift egg sitting this afternoon, followed by a full shift off, followed by this half shift, and now was ready to transfer custody to his commander. Soon.
Private looked down and whispered as if Egg Number One could hear as it nestled below the bulge of his belly. "Oh, I really can't say wot he thought - "
"Never mind what he thought, what did he say?" You worded the query wrong, get a grip. Private's medical leave ends tonight and he'll take over full time starting at six a.m. and the eggsitting schedule rotates more smoothly with one protector added to the twenty-four hours unending duty, let's see, two eggs divided by four sitters makes ... makes ... there was only one egg for twenty-four hours divided by three penguins making eight hour shifts but then we got two ... um ... leave math to Kowalski, yeah good 'cause I'm fried. Rotates, tee hee. It's an oval egg so it rotates - you're losing it, boyo. Just breeze through this last night and you're home free at six in the a.m. Six. Six? Six in the a.m.? Saint Urho, come to my aid!
To Skipper's sleep addled mind, Kowalski took his turn safeguarding Egg Number Two with more confidence than he had ever displayed. His baritone sounded garbled as if underwater to one who generally received eight uninterrupted hours of sleep and needed some now. "Julien fainted at the news. Need I continue?"
"He fainted? I'm the one with the right to faint, eh never mind, I did. One lemur down, two to go. Mort?" Julien's probably blabbed the news all the way back to Madagascar and what's her name, oh yeah, Clover. I'm fuzzy how he would manage it without a cellphone or the internet, but he would. Stupid finds a way.
"When Julien fainted, sir, he landed on Mort, who passed out from happiness because Julien's toes plopped onto his cheek." Face cheek? Butt cheek? No don't think about it concentrate on Rico's report. Hold it together, hold it together.
"Third lemur? Maurice is usually sensible."
"Ewgrosstoez." Rico's turn was next to do the all nighter thing alongside Skipper. Skipper noted that Rico's stamina surpassed his own, well he'd always considered that a leader must always be physically superior remained more of a guideline, actually. "Momofellpart," added Rico. "Hisstronical."
Skipper shrugged. "We can take a little teasing. We're tough enough."
"Maybe, but I didn't like it, Skippa, when he laughed in my face."
"Lots of things not to like in this world, Private - Maurice probably - what? In your face?" Skipper did a double take. He spun on Kowalski and Rico and nearly overbalanced in his weariness. "And you two let him get away with it? I don't care that he helped us those times with his thumbs, he can't do that to a penguin! He can't overlord us by being a snob!"
Rico looked blindsided, but Kowalski fielded the question with aplomb. "Sir, we channeled your lesson on when to apply force so as not to risk damage to Egg Number One." Kowalski offered a little chuckle. "Put yourself in Maurice's place, sir, if situations were reversed and he and Julien became a couple and procreated against all logic. Wouldn't you laugh? I would."
"What the hell did I say about force, gah I'm groggy - never mind, yeah, all right, I remember the first routine that Manfredi and Johnson graced us with, Routine Seventy-Six: When you hobnob with snobs, expect snubs. Chill out, Rico, my - your - our egg needs you unstressed." Private snugged himself closer to Skipper to transfer Egg Number One to its night time nest. It still felt strange to rub bellies, tilt backwards, and coordinate beaks and flippers to roll the egg onto the other's feet. Skipper finished fastening his little one down tight before continuing. He was almighty tired, but he had to pursue an answer for discipline's sake. Maybe two pairs of lovers didn't upset the applecart of the zoo as he'd thought previously and hey, hadn't zoo life been unusually crisis-free the past four days? He had his beak open to voice the observation when Private beat him to it.
"Gents, quiet lately, innit?"
Rico said quickly, "Nottoquite."
Kowalski analyzed, "Sir, did you say that Burt chatted briefly with you before our egg count became two?" He caressed Rico's curtain of cozy flesh and feathers that Egg Number Two would shortly lie behind in a gesture loving and true. Rico's beak twitched at the touch but he didn't say anything.
"Brief is right because his trunk stretched out past his habitat bars like Alice's sump pump hose and sniffed so hard at our egg that I had to reprimand him. I, I can't imagine anything breaking it on my watch."
Private's voice rose in distress. "Not Burt, Skippa! He's so sensitive! Tell me you didn't bruise his feelin's."
"I don't give a flying purple br- "
"Skippa, please. The children."
Count to three, count to three. "Yeah, okay already, a flying purple brassiere braided by baboons."
Kowalski scratched his head. "Burt could have slipped the notion that the zoo's protectors - us - need protecting from nattering nabobs of negativity such as griping fellow zoosters."
"Lieutenant Kowalski, now and then you - hit the nail on the head. Yeah, he did that. He must have told everybody to man up and take care of their own problems." Skipper's relieved face turned thoughtful. "If nobody needs us, will we lose our edge? Will we be reassigned?"
"We can't leave!" Private sounded panicky. "We've got to stay here in our nest!"
Skipper hadn't the spoons to soothe just now and nodded at his lieutenant with all the brainpower. "Kowalski, take over."
Kowalski waddled back and forth, stroking his beak. "Private, worst case scenario, in your opinion?"
Oh very good. Spike the volleyball back into Private's court. Make him think.
Private had to take deep breaths, eight of them. Skipper sat on the edge of the bottom bunk and wanted to lie down, contrary to all decently traditional ways to egg sit. Private's reply sounded muffled to his aching head.
"We, we get our vittles regularly here, Doc is nearby in case of trouble, Alice is not all that bad a zookeeper" - Skipper snorted - "well, she's not perfect, I realize that, Skippa, and our HQ is, is familiar - "
Kowalski sounded so damn mature that Skipper himself perked up to take heed of his words. His second continued, "And if we get reassigned to another zoo, we would lose all that, how, Private?"
Shit, so this was what Private thought? "I don't know! We just would! We would need to make a new home, or, or the new Doc would take our littles away to inculcate them in an unnatural mechanical inculcator - "
"You mean incubator, Private, and yes, I see your point." Kowalski assumed his professorial pose, spine erect, flippers clasped behind him, as he began to pace in shortened steps once more, ever mindful of his precious egg.
Hmm. Kowalski never went to OCS, but this concession to a subordinate's opinion would not be amiss in old Instructor Baldy's class: How To Sugarcoat What Penguins Don't Want To Hear 101 that Skipper took as an elective. He pushed past the headache pain to join the discussion. "Private's point is that he's worried about what I as skipper never would allow. I would Skype the Big Boss that giving up our eggs is unacceptable, she'd call us in, and we'd bug out of here a hell of a lot faster than Penny did this morning chasing those two blockheads, I mean brickheads." He slammed one flipper into the other and winced at the shockwaves to his head. "Damn, I wanted in on that action. We had too many lookyloos around us, though." He swung his feet holding the egg and then stopped, appearing troubled.
"Skippa, I'm s- "
"Don't, Private. It's a done deed."
Skipper wanted to French kiss Kowalski when his brilliant, fantastic, oh-so-team-centered intellect stepped in with an idea to change up eggsitting. "Our species," the scientist declaimed, "never intended its members" - he aimed a heated look over Skipper's left shoulder, close enough to singe - "to be commandos. However, we penguins are known for adapting to any and all circumstances and so I have constructed a, a, garment to enable us to lie down to get our rest for daytime missions while still nurturing. Here it is." From under his pillow he pulled two tailored garments resembling the Speedo that Commissioner McSlade had unwisely worn last year to the New Years Day Annual Polar Plunge for zoo employees. One he dropped and the other identical one was striped black and white, outstanding choices, Science Boy, and it drooped down to the tops of his feet as he held it up before him by its shoulder straps. "Observe."
Thong. It was a thong, and Skipper couldn't school his features away from horror fast enough in his weakened, sleepy state. Kowalski appeared alarmed and then he hastened to add, "These are for HQ use only. Nobody else will ever see us in clothing." Skipper looked skeptical as Kowalski supplied more options. "I also propose locking our hatch and tunnel entrances each night to block Julien from any midnight refrigerator raids. Lemurs do not need to know our business." He smiled optimistically at a third option. "There are special cushioned inserts for the egg, sir, that serve a double purpose to prevent the garment riding up in our bundesliga."
Rico's heavy eyelids rose a fraction of an inch. "YahsehrgutKwoskii." He donned the garment with Kowalski's aid, pulled down its crotch, and Kowalski rolled Egg Number Two into its interior. Upon releasing the tension of the crotch to cradle the egg and adjusting the shoulder straps for comfort, Rico's trademark grin bloomed like an early spring trillium. "A-Okay'Kipppaaah."
Private's voice would have drizzled soothing aloe vera, if such a thing were possible. "Stay put, honey, and I'll help you." He lifted each foot in turn, bracing the egg in its snug home as he fitted the crotch around the egg. Skipper admitted to weariness as his own flipper descended to balance himself on Private's shoulder while Private knelt before him. A flashback of Private in the same position and accomplishing a maneuver of love that he'd gotten quite good at surged into his consciousness, but to Skipper's chagrin, a very important part of him quivered and did not rise.
Private stood and the flashback fled. Skipper allowed light, tender touches to smooth the shoulder straps next to his neck. He shrugged himself into semi-acceptance.
"S'all right. I guess. Maybe." He caught a glimpse in the full length mirror. "Oh Godfrey Daniel. Never take a photosnap of me in this thing, I mean thong. That's an order."
Rico shrugged. "Whatevs." He snapped the shoulder strap of his thong. "Webad."
Bad? "Excelente that I am up to date on all the latest tubular lingo, Rico, or I'd take offense at my team being called bad." Skipper felt compelled to add, "Totally," to further his rep as never being without a comeback. Rico and Kowalski developed identical smothered coughs and Private giggled before turning serious.
"Um, Skippa, I've thought about, um, been wrong about your cussin' and it's, it's okay to cuss because you need to vent, I understand totally" - his gaze darted onto the egg in its binder - "and the littles' hearing it is unlikely all covered up like they are but I really, really think it's best that we not share a bunk because ours isn't as wide as K'walski's and Rico's and the egg might tip out of K'walski's invention if we accidentally rub up against each other at night - "
"Oh."
Private's voice became even softer. "I mean, it would smash on the floor - "
"Stop! Okayokay!" Rico and Kowalski decided to raid the refrigerator all of a sudden. "So what you're saying is - "
"Yes. But only for a little while, honey." Skipper supposed his face showed his emotions more than it ought, but dammit, he was braaping tired. Private hurried on to add, "I'm at sea with all these new developments that I caused, Skippa, and I need time to process. That's the whole story in a crabshell, believe me."
Oh well. Every relationship has seasons and this one plateaued between a promising spring and a fulfilling summer. He could handle this. "Noted and logged, babe. Let's get some rest." He rolled into his bunk, Private offered a cheering smile before hopping into his, and Rico and Kowalski unearthed cheese dip, salsa, and Cheezy Dibbles for a late night snack. Skipper fell asleep before he could order, "Lights out."
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Undertow