A/N: I needed to write some fluff and the notion of this amused me more than it had any right to. It's cracky, mostly dialogue and short. There's absolutely no plot here, just silliness. But hopefully it'll amuse you. :D

Advice

It's something of a rite of passage, receiving…advice, before one's wedding. Maddy knows what's coming; see's it from a mile away as her mother and lieutenant Washington come breezing into the house. Elizabeth is chuckling under her breath, a wide smile turning her features. The other woman appears considerably more reserved, almost uncomfortable, a bottle of scotch clutched in what can only be described as a death grip under her arm. It very clearly says, "I don't want to be here, I'd be fine being anywhere else, yes, I'm only here under orders."

"Mom…."

"Sit down, darling," the younger Shannon does so immediately, excitement and dread warring for dominance in her stomach. She takes a seat on the couch, clasps her hands in her lap, motions to them expectantly. The older women settle themselves on the adjacent couch. Almost immediately, Wash is breaking into her liquor.

Maddy holds up a finger, haltingly manages, "Um…would you like a…glass or…?"

"Not the time for glasses, Shannon," she takes a long swig straight from the bottle, "If I'm going to survive this, I'm going to need to get pretty drunk."

"I'm sure it won't be that…"

"Oh it will."

Elizabeth shakes her head, reaches out to take her daughters hand, "Ignore her, dear, Wash is feeling a little bitter. I'm sure you know why we're here." Even the suggestion has the stoic lieutenant taking another drink; Maddy's eyes widen. That can't be healthy! "I know you're probably nervous…"

"I'm not nervous."

Her mother leans back a bit, arches a brow, "What's that now?"

"I'm not nervous, mom. Just…curious. I mean, I know the logistics," the clinical term sends the lieutenant chuckling. If she didn't know the woman better she could have swore she muttered something along the lines of, that's inspiring. "And everything it entails, it's just…" She hesitates.

Her mother's always been so terribly supportive. Now is no different. The doctor smiles affectionately; gives her hand a gentle squeeze, "It's alright, Maddy, you can ask us anything." Even Wash doesn't argue this. As much as she hates being put in these situations, she likes the kid and will help as best as she's able. She flashes what she hopes is a reassuring smile, nodding.

Maddy takes a deep breath. Before she can think better of it the words are pouring out of her, "How do I keep Mark satisfied?"

There's a long moment of silence. The other two women's eyes widen as if the situation has only just dawned on them.

Without turning, Elizabeth grabs the bottle of scotch from her friend's hand. Takes an impressive swig.

"I don't want to be here for this."

"Sir, I'm actually in agreement with Mr. Shannon…"

The Commander holds up a pacifying hand, slides the two men on the other side of his desk their drinks. An expensive brandy he'd had brought through on the Tenth. It tastes awful, he won't lie, but it's the thought that counts. It's a refined, gentleman's drink, very old fashioned. This is precisely one of those situations. Jim downs his in a gulp, scowls at the flavor, sets the glass down and motions for a refill.

"Reynolds doesn't have a father; it's a man duty to…"

"Teach him how to better defile my little girl?"

Taylor runs a hand through his hair, smirks as Reynolds turns an impressive shade of pink at his future father in laws words. "It's not going to be like that, Shannon. Just going to walk him through the basics. How to treat his lady with respect."

"You will do this," Jim warns, levels an accusing finger at the boy, "preferably by never touching her."

"Shannon…"

The sheriff of the colony lets out a withering sigh, "Fine. You can touch her. But if I ever catch you…"

"No, sir. I intend to show Maddy every measure of respect, sir."

"Good," but the man's eyes are still narrowed at him, glaring over the rim of his drink.

An awkward silence descends on the men. Reynolds simply stares down into his drink, unable to banish the impossible pink hue from his cheeks. He glances up to find the Commander's eyes fixed upon him, the older man's head titled lightly to the side, curious. The young soldier dips his slightly, clears his throat, "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted, Reynolds."

"I'd…like to ask you a few questions about…."

The Commander lets out a well meaning chuckle, leans back in his chair, the entirety of his posture relaxed. Strangely, he's the only one in the room that seems at ease with the situation, not at all troubled the tense atmosphere. He makes an idle motion with his hand, "Ask away, Mark. Remember, we're here to help you."

"Also good to remember: her father is in the room."

"Yes, sirs," Mark takes a deep breath. When he finishes his string of questions, Taylor is almost doubled over, his face red from attempting to hold in his laughter, and Jim looks dangerously close to a mental breakdown.

It's going to be a long night.

Around hour two of their little heart to heart, Maddy is both regretting asking her question and wishing the two older women would share their alcohol. At least it would help dull the…images they are assaulting her with. They've long since finished the lieutenant's scotch and have broken into an impossibly strong bottle of…something, that Malcolm had gifted her mother the week previous.

She isn't sure if they're precisely drunk but they're most certainly tipsy…

And they're both remarkably open when inebriated.

Maddy isn't entirely convinced she'll ever recover.

Her mother is laughing against Wash's shoulder, fingers clutching their booze in a precariously unsteady grip. "Oooh, that is fun."

"Taylor certainly thought so," the stoic woman chuckles to herself, takes the bottle despite the moue of displeasure from the doctor. Half lidded amber eyes twinkle with naked amusement, and something else she assumes is at least related to arousal, "Maddy?"

She's terrified to respond. She's already heard more stories about both their partners then she's ever needed. Frankly, she'll never be able to look at either her father or the Commander without turning an impossible shade of red. On that note, she'll never be able to look at: stairs, walls, rovers, tables, the stove (what in the name of god had processed them to try that?) and a slew of other unassuming household objects without needing to leave the room. It's absolutely horrifying, but somehow she can't stop her morbid curiosity from getting the best of her. She does the unthinkable and responds, "Yes, lieutenant?"

Wash's voice is slightly slurred, tone dropping to a husky sort of purr, "Can you roll your tongue?" Her mother lets out an appreciative sound of agreement. The girl furrows her brow in confusion, does as she's told. The lieutenant positively beams, "Good girl, now come here for a second. Gonna teach you something…"

When she leans back, her chest is so tight taking in air is practically impossible. Stares at the wicked smirk playing across both her mother and Wash's faces as they discuss the various uses of such talents (and other absurd skills she'd never suspected either of them possessing), chuckling as they lean closer, whispering.

It's official. She will never recover. Ever.

Jim is drunk. The Commander's…not drunk but certainly on his way. It leaves Mark feeling out of place, awkward. They're most certainly being…helpful, especially now that the conversations turned away from Maddy and towards more…general application.

He never needed to know so much about either his future mother in law or his self-proclaimed sister.

And they aren't done yet.

"Now, Mark. You know you have to treat your lady with respect…"

"Damn straight!" Shannon quickly asserts and for some reason it sends Terra Nova's Commander drifting off into a fit of laughter.

"Um…yes, sir."

"Good, good. Now, occasionally, it's acceptable to behave a little more," he pauses, tilts his head lightly to the side, "What's the word I'm looking for, Shannon?"

"Aggressive?"

"That's the one! Aggressive. If your Maddy is anything like Wash…"

"Or Elizabeth."

That causes Taylor to pause, curious, "Really? Elizabeth?"

"She's got an edge to her."

"Huh, guess I can see it."

Mark would really prefer not to see it, thank you. But the men are chattering blithely on till Taylor stumbles onto a topic he takes to with gusto.

"There was this one time with Wash on the stairs…"

Oh for god's sake.

Mark arrives at the house about an hour after the Lieutenants…impromptu lessons. She almost throws herself into his arms. The Commander and her father are trailing a bit behind him and she buries her head in her fiances shirt to avoid making eye contact.

"Where's your mother?" Her father is almost certainly drunk, glances around when he steps over the threshold of their home.

"On the couch with Lieutenant Washington. They're…talking." She almost shivers.

That causes him to pause, "That sounds ominous." When she doesn't reply, he takes a steadying breath, nodding, "Come on, Taylor. Better go find our women."

She waits for them to disappear inside before looking gratefully up at Mark, clutches handfuls of his shirt, ""You have no idea how bad my night's been."

"Oh, I think I have a feeling."

Maddy chuckles, "They got to you too, huh? That was…awful. Terrible. I…never want to go through that again. And I'll never be able to look at…anything the same. Ever." He wraps an arm around her shoulders, presses an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. That he doesn't say anything about his own night only assures her he's had an equally trying night. He gives her a gentle tug, leads her away from the house. The two of them walk in companionable silence through the warm summer night. Comfortable, easy.

Just when she imagines she's about to relax, she hears Mark's voice against her ear, "So…did you learn anything?"

She takes a page from Lieutenant Washington's playbook. She turns the brightest shade of red imaginable and hits him.