Title: 'Won't Do'

Author: freeflow

Rating: T (maybe higher in terms of suggestive content, but nothing explicit)

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to have invented the recognisable characters or settings used in this work; they are the property of CBS, The Mirisch Group, MGM, and Trilogy Entertainment. This is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only, no financial gain is being made. Any original characters are of my own design for the purposes of this story.

The M7 ATF universe is the creation of Mog and the Little Britches AU was created by (I think!) Barbretta Hayden. I have long been a fan of both universes and authors, and am grateful for both being able to access the wonderful worlds of M7 and LB fanfiction, and experience the reams of extraordinary work available on these boundless characters.

A/N: As a first time writer in this fandom, I am not certain as to the nature of fic submission. If I am treading on anyone's toes, I beg your virtual pardon, but I could no longer resist the pull of little Vin and daddy Chris. Feel free to contact me with any queries (or complaints!).

'Won't do'

Chapter 1

'Not another one! Chris, didn't we just take the boys for these?'

Shaking his head in mock exasperation and taking a swipe at the dark head, Chris Larabee took the letter back from his old friend.

'No Buck, those were for polio, TB and… something else. These are different, I guess. And anyway, if it saves us another go around of last time the boys were ill, I'll do anything.'

Chuckling softly, Buck Wilmington stood up from his place at the breakfast table and stretched out the kinks in his back, arms above his head, yawning widely.

'Well, I can't disagree with that. If anyone comes down with something at school, it's a given those two'll have it the next day, and twice as bad. And I've about had my fill of runny noses and cleanin' up puke for this year. Hell, for the next ten years!'

'Buck! Language!'

The hissed reprimand had the taller man ducking his head as he remembered the small ears just next door.

'Jeez Chris, it ain't like they're in here with us. And Vin's so quiet I forget he's here most a the time!'

Folding the letter and placing it beside the phone, Chris glared at him then stabbed a finger in his direction.

'Quiet or not, I ain't gonna be the one explaining to Miss Nettie or Vin's teachers when he comes out with those words you been spoutin'. You know that boy's got the hearing of a bat when he shouldn't be listening to something, and he misses nothing in this house!'

Peering round the corner in to living room, he lowered his voice even further, and a small grin crept over his features as an idea flared to life in his mind.

'And as punishment, you get the pleasure of booking the appointments for the immunizations. And don't get 'em for next month or get chattin' with the receptionist. I want it done as soon as possible, over and done with. I don't want the boys worryin' about this. Now, get to it. Use that mouth for somethin' useful.'

Face twisting in distaste, Buck snatched the offered phone out of his friend's hand and whined, 'Aw Chris, you know I hate this kinda thing! I can't think straight when they're firing questions at me, and they put ya on hold then suddenly pipe up, demandin' names and answers that I can never get straight! Can't you-'

'No Bucklin, I can't. I gotta go get the boys ready for school, and find the casefiles for the Andersen bust. Remember? Actual work to be done, by an actual working man. Now get them appointments booked, and be quick about it – I'm leavin' in ten minutes.'

Sighing at the uncaring back as Chris left the room, Buck took his seat again, and raised the phone to eye level, growling at it softly.

'Now you just behave, ya hear? I don't want no trouble. Just an appointment, then finish. I don't - '

'Buck? Why ya talkin' at the phone when there ain't no-one there?'

Jumping at least an inch off the chair, the man scrambled for the phone, catching it just before it made contact with the table top. Hearing high-pitched giggles from under the table, he peered down to meet the dark eyes staring up at him.

'JD, son, we're gonna have t' talk about you sneakin' up on ol' Buck like that. Enough to scare the hair right offa me!'

Eyes growing larger by the second, JD Dunne scrambled from beneath the table and reached a hand out to his father, clambering up on to his lap with all the grace of a buffalo. Holding in the grunts of discomfort desperate to make themselves known, Buck held on to the small hand until the boy was semi-stable. With one hand occupied, and the other still holding the phone, he had no defence against the fingers which latched on to his moustache and tugged.

'Yeow! JD, boy, what you playin' at? That there is attached to my face, y' know.'

Letting go and settling back, JD nodded his head wisely, and declared;

'You told a lie, Buck, an' I'm gonna tell Chris.'

Momentarily silenced, Buck just looked at the boy in wonderment – until an abrupt shout broke his astonishment.

'Chri-is! Chris! Buck's tellin' 'zaggeration's, and it ain't the truth! Chri-'

A firm hand clamped over the excitable lips and Buck quirked his head to one side.

'What on earth are you hollerin' about boy? I ain't told you no lies, and that is way too loud for this early in the morning.'

Twisting his head, JD escaped from his father's hold and scrambled back to the floor. Turning back to Buck with exaggerated patience, JD sighed and pointed a tiny finger.

'You ain't lost yer moustache, so it didn't scare right offa ya. An' I'm tellin' Chris 'cause me an' Vin ain't s'pposed to 'zaggerate, so you can't either. Chris!'

With that, the boy spun round and began his haphazard search for the disciplinarian in the house – leaving a shell shocked Buck at the kitchen table, listening to the shrieks as they grew more muffled by the walls and rooms between him and the instigator.

When the shouts stopped, and Buck could hear the low, steady tones of Chris's voice – hopefully explaining the difference between the truth and figures of speech – he realised he was still gripping the phone in his other hand.

Staring dazedly at the receiver, he shook his head and mumbled, 'I think I'll take my chances with you. Can't be anymore confusin' than that there littl'un.'

--

To be continued...