Disclaimer: PoM ain't mine. It belongs to DreamWorks, Nickelodeon, the creators, but not me. This is just a silly little story I wrote for shits and giggles.

Skipper quietly slipped into the underground bunker. Today's mission was nothing out of the ordinary; retrieve a trinket for one of the flamingos from the gorilla's pin. It would have gone smoothly had Kowalski's calculations been correct and Rico been able to regurgitate anything of use. Private tripping and falling right when they were a few feet away from the exit didn't help. As if the sky spirits didn't laugh at the penguins enough, Ringtail chipped in and teased them as they made it back to their pool.

The rest of his crew were taking a dip but after days like these all Skipper wanted was a hot cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle. As Skipper waddled towards the kitchenette he heard the manhole open followed by a loud thump and a few scratching sounds. Skipper paused and scanned the area. Finding nothing he waddled a few more steps before he tripped over something small and fluffy that groaned. As he backed up he looked down. It was Mort.

A sigh. "Can I help you, Sad Eyes?"

"No," said the small lemur rubbing his arm.

"Then state your business," said Skipper with poorly veiled annoyance. His patience was thin and the last thing he needed was for Mort to tell him that he raided the fridge while he was away or wanted more batteries.

"Well, Mort noticed how sad you looked and felt really, really bad. Maybe Mort

can-"

"Look Sad Eyes," interrupted Skipper, "I don't have time for this. Can't you come by some other time?"

"But Mort brought you something!" squeaked Mort as he drew something from behind him: a small bottle of rubbing oil. Skipper raised an eyebrow in mild interest.

"How exactly is that suppose to help me?"

The mouse lemur tittered. "You'll see. Sit down!"

Skipper stood staring. "I can't use the oil unless you sit down!" whined Mort. Skipper lowered himself reluctantly onto a seat. He was grateful to finally be sitting but didn't feel safe having his back towards Mort. What if this was all a huge ploy for Mort to chloroform him and attack his feet? He'd have to tread carefully with Mort.

"How does this 'oil' work anyways, Mo-OOOH!" Skipper was cut off by a pair of small paws rubbing his shoulder. "Whoa there solider, paws off!" stated Skipper as he used a flipper to shoo off the invasive paws. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Getting you ready to put on the oil?" offered Mort lamely. When he was met with an accusing stare he added, "Mort has to put it on you for it to work." Eying Mort suspiciously he lowered his flipper and let Mort go back to what he was doing. Skipper wasn't used to others being this close or touching him. Even a flipper around the shoulder was unusual for him. He tried to relax but this was just too weird, even for him.

Mort went to work on his shoulders right away. Mort knew Skipper isn't the touchy feely type and didn't want to upset him. Mort rarely got the chance to give massages and didn't want to botch this chance.

"What now?" asked Skipper as Mort took his paws off his shoulder and picked up his bottle.

"Patience!" giggled Mort as he poured some clear liquid into his paws. Mort went back to work onto the penguin's shoulders, moving his small paws over the tense muscles. When he felt the penguin finally loosen up, he stopped.

"What? Is that it?" Skipper asked slightly disappointed. As weird as it was having a hyperactive foot fetishist touch your shoulders, he expected it to last more than a few minutes.

"Mort can't finish unless you get on your tummy," mumbled Mort bashfully. Skipper cautiously got onto his stomach. He would have questioned this but he was secretly enjoying himself. The way Mort ran his paws down the penguin's back with such precision and delicacy was impressive. Not to mention that Mort was calm and focused, not to mention virtually quiet. It also made him feel a bit guilty for the way he treated his masseuse and for double guessing him. He let out a content sign.

"You like that?" cooed Mort. He was answered with enthusiastic sounds. Mort flushed. Out of all the penguins Mort was attracted to Skipper the most. Rico didn't seem all there (and scared Mort a bit), Kowalski appeared void of any emotion, and Private was just too soft. Mort liked him well enough but he didn't have that spark Skipper had. Skipper was headstrong and a natural leader who stopped at nothing. Like his King Julien.

Mort enjoyed the notion that he was the first to touch the penguin leader like this, then grew sad. To think that someone could go on without physical contact seemed terrible. To go on without a pat on the back or huddle when it was windy seemed like a miserable way to live. This encouraged Mort to do an extra good job on his back.

Moving his paws down the penguins back he couldn't notice how sleek Skipper felt. As much as he liked King Julien's feet, Skipper's back was heavenly. While King Julien's feet were scratchy and sticky, the penguin's back was smooth. The penguin's warm sleek welcoming back was a nice change to the king's nervous feet, so he relished it.

Mort worked on Skipper's back in peace, mainly because he was concentrating hard and all Skipper could manage was the occasional content moan. Skipper started when he felt the paws above his tail.

"I'm done!" chirped Mort. "You should stay away from water for a few minutes so the oil won't wash off." Skipper got up and moved his flippers. His back hadn't felt that good since his trip to Hawaii, and that was years ago.

"Thank you, solider. I feel good as new. Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

"Okay!" Mort beamed. He liked nothing more than when people complimented his work. It didn't hurt that he got the uptight leader to relax a bit. Mort grabbed his bottle and scurried out.

A/N: Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that this was based off a dream I had. Enjoy?