None of the male characters belong to me. They belong with the owners of the movies listed below. I just borrowed them for awhile. No copyright infringement intended or profit made.
This is for Jason Isaacs fans. It employs his characters from the following five movies:
Colonel William Tavington from "The Patriot" (aka Tav, dragoon, and Will in this story)
Lord Felton from "Dragonheart" (aka Milord in this story)
David "Percy" Sledge from "The Last Minute" (no other names used)
Lucius Malfoy from "Harry Potterand theChamber of Secrets" and "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" (aka the wizard in this story)
Captain James Hook from "Peter Pan" (no other names used)
It takes place on Earth but in an alternate polyandrous universe.
Jason Times Five
By Xanti
Chapter One
A Bedtime Story
"Dammit, Lucius, get your cane out of my arse!" snarled Felton.
"If you would manage to wear something more than that rusty medallion to bed, you would have a bit of protection," came the disinterested reply. Lucius turned to glower at the ostrich feather in his face. "Must you wear that monstrosity of a hat to bed, Hook? It's tangling up my hair."
Hook pulled the silver blonde hair off his feathered hat, slicing a few of the strands off. "Let me help you remove some of your hair, Malfoy, from your scalp!"
"Why, you technicolor one-armed bandit! You did that on purpose," Lucius fumed. I'm getting my wand…"
"Don't bother, Malfoy, you know you can't get at it where she put it. I've tried to get my sledgehammer too. Did you have to show her how to use that damned stick? Those protection spells she put around all our weapons are impossible," said Percy angrily. "It's all your fault!" He pulled a piece of lint off his black turtleneck and flicked it onto Lucius' robe.
Lucius plucked the lint off his black velvet robe and tossed it aside, "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," said Lucius with a reminiscent grin on his face. That had been some night.
Tavington weighed in, "And what's with all the unrelieved black clothing, Malfoy? Are you colorblind? It's depressing - like sleeping next to an escapee from a bad vampire movie."
Felton snickered at Will, "I suppose it's better to look like little Lord Fauntleroy's idiot sister, or," he glanced at Hook's regalia, "a peacock who fell into a can of gold leaf."
"Better than wearing a diaper, Felton," sneered Hook. "We were all relieved when she made you wash it out. Did you last do laundry in the dark ages? Some of us have standards of cleanliness, don't we, Will?"
Percy laughed, "Well, we all know your knickers are clean, Captain. Those paisley shorts of yours were eye-blindingly bright last week when you caught your hook on your trousers and ripped the seam." Percy continued viciously, "And Lucius' sneer is probably caused by the pain from his 'tighty whiteys'. Or are they black too?"
Lucius sneered, then stopped, not wanting to add to Percy's malicious remark. "I suppose you wear pretty silk lace knickers, do you, Percy?"
Percy smiled evilly, "Actually, I don't wear any at all."
"Really, Percy," Tavington said with distaste, "Too much information."
She entered the bedroom just then, halting the escalating squabbling. "Gentlemen, please! It's bedtime. And all this fighting is starting to give me a headache."
Multiple gasps erupted, punctuated with moans of, "Oh, no," "Not a headache!" "We'll be good, we promise." "See what you've done, now!" "Please, not a headache!"
She looked at each of them in turn lined up on the vast bed. Innocent smiles met her gaze. Innocent, hopeful smiles. "Very well, men. Get the straws, Felton. Let's do 'long straw' tonight. Shortest straw is last."
Felton grumbled on his way over to get the straws from the bureau. He was put out because he'd been last the night before and thought he should get some special dispensation for the long wait. He perked up a bit at a thought. She usually tucked down beside the last one and fell asleep. Maybe last wasn't all bad. Felton shook the can of straws and sauntered back to her with a smile and a swing to his medallion.
Chapter Two
Tavington's Complaint
Staring out the kitchen window the next morning, she absently doodled on her shopping list. Mondays were always hard after the weekend days and nights of mutual pleasures. She was currently trying to figure a way to meet all the different culinary tastes of the group. Well, at least they all liked meat. That was a start. She would have to ask Tav.
Tavington was truly an excellent Quartermaster for them all. He had a natural desire to bring order to his surroundings and he liked keeping the place in shape. The house was a large one to keep up. Not quite as large as Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, as Lucius liked to remind everyone, but easily large enough to be called an estate. Tav also liked to control the supplies and the household chore rotation – not always the best situation, but usually benign.
Left to himself, the colonel would have had daily inspections and a system of demerits. His early attempts at military discipline, however, had only earned him a series of colorful threats against his manhood. He valued his assets too much to lose to them to promises of a dull blade, so household matters soon became more informal.
"Pssst!" Tavington stood at the kitchen door trying to get her attention. He motioned her over to him, instead of walking the twenty feet to her. Commanding colonel attitude this morning, she recognized. He didn't have the ready humor of some of his fellows, but occasionally his sense of fun peeked out. She sighed. Apparently today wasn't going to be one of those occasions.
She got up from her stool and walked over to him. "Well, what is it? I thought you were going to spend the morning polishing the silver, and then your buttons and buckles. And that reminds me, quit ragging on Felton to polish his medallion. That's his choice."
The colonel suddenly looked selfconscious, but before she could ask him why, Felton came storming into the kitchen, sopping wet.
"You complete knave. You've ruined my medallion." He turned to face her and raged, "This-this-housewife polished my medallion while I was in the shower. He's rubbed most of the design off it. See? It's ruined."
"Is this true, Tav?" she asked.
Tav briskly countered, "If Felton would take more care with his appearance, he would look at least respectable. As it is, he looks positively uncouth and medieval."
She hid a smile. Tavington would never understand that she rather liked that about Milord Felton. A lot.
She turned to the extremely irate and dripping male, "Felton, I know a metalsmith who can repair your medallion just the way you had it. He could even add a bit of gold trim if you wish to dress up the design. Would that be acceptable?"
"That and an apology from Tavington for his officiousness," returned Milord, "although he ought to be pilloried."
Tav knew when he was in a tight spot. He cared more for her good opinion than Felton's so he said quietly, "I overstepped my authority. I apologize."
Felton snorted and went off to dry himself, but he gave his abused medallion a thoughtful look as he disappeared around the corner. That gold trim idea sounded interesting.
Tavington took a deep breath, "Anyway, that's not what I wanted to say."
Her eyes wandered to the deep breath that Tav had just taken. What a lovely broad chest in that spotless uniform, such wide shoulders, so manly, so…
"Ahem!" Tav cleared his throat. She was getting that glazed look that meant he certainly had her attention, just not on his words. Normally he'd be pulling her into the pantry, but this was more important.
"Sorry Tav, what did you say?" she came back from her daydream.
"I said, James took all the polish for his hook collection and hasn't left any for me. And he just did all his buckles last week, too. The man's an uncontrolled menace." Tavington stood there in his censorious mode.
She sighed to herself. Clearlydiplomacy was called for. I wonder how the sultans did it with all those women in their harems? Briefly she pondered that riddle but decided her situation was different, as different as male and female egos. And Tav's ego was unbending.
"Is this really about the polish, Will? I know you think James hasn't a right to his hook if you aren't allowed your sword, but I just don't feel I should ask him to remove what amounts to his right hand. Not to mention he's responsible for security around here." She eyed the colonel calculatingly, "Shall I make you and Lucius and Felton and James all equal to Percy by shearing off everyone's hair to Percy's length?"
He took a deep breath, but noticed his chest wasn't having its usual effect on her this time. Oh, Oh…he thought. Tavington drew himself up into his military stance and tried to hide his shudder. He could just hear the bellows if James, Felton, and Lucius discovered he'd got all their hair cut off because of his jealousy. Even worse, Percy would never stop laughing at them. Tav knew he would be a walking dead man – with a disgusting haircut.
"Madam," Tav said carefully with a short bow, "you have definitely made your point." He took a breath, and instantly, her eyes drifted to his chest again. Maybe his dignity was not entirely lost, he thought, relieved. "Madam, may I interest you in the pantry?"
Ah, she smiled inwardly, always so polite and bullheaded, her dragoon, but sometimes not so very proper. It was always such fun seducing Tav away from his ego. "Your command is my wish," she purred. She smiled brilliantly up at him and started pulling him by his buttons toward the doorway.
"Please, my love, anything but the buttons!" Tavington implored.
She instantly lowered her grasp and Will's beautiful pale blue eyes widened, then immediately glazed over. "Y-y-yes, better," he stuttered, now completely focused on her dainty hand.
She never bothered to tell Will that she'd sooner cut off her own hair than any of theirs.
Chapter Three
Felton Comes Across
Of all the crew, Milord Felton was the most difficult to keep clothed. It wasn't that he was hard on his clothes. He just kept taking them off. He said he was allergic to the modern fabrics and got all itchy when he wore them for any length of time. He also argued that as steward for the estate, and working outdoors, he never got any clothes dirty or sweaty if he was naked. More likely he just liked hanging loose around the house. Percy was indifferent, and Tav ignored him except for occasional rude comments on his medallion. Lucius and Hook, however, were incensed.
"Must we be subjected to Felton's pitiful displays of vulgarity?" Lucius grouched. "It's exceedingly unsanitary. Not to say unsightly," he added, stroking his own velvet sleeve.
Felton's loincloth had finally succumbed to one too many launderings and fallen into irreparable pieces. Unfortunately, during her quest to find a replacement piece of pure linen, Felton had discovered the joys of nudity. He was being remarkably resistant to suggestions of alternatives by his compatriots. And, being shrewd in his own way, he noticed that she never added her voice to the arguments.
James's words were even less subtle, "If you don't put something on your arse, my hook may find its way into virgin territory." He paused, then smirked, "Or maybe it isn't – virgin, that is."
Felton stared narrowly at Hook. "Are you impugning my masculinity? You, who've spent half your life on a ship with nothing but men and that hook?"
Oh, dear, she thought. When hostilities head down the proclivities road, nobody is safe. "Felton, come upstairs with me, please."
He sauntered after her with a backward superior look at the others. "Yes, my dove."
Felton was extremely gifted at growing things and he spent much of his time outdoors tending his extensive vegetable, flower and herb gardens. He had developed a beautiful tan that emphasized his fascinating pale blue eyes. He knew it was a pleasure for her to look at him, all of him.
She turned into the upstairs corridor toward her bedroom, but veered into the game room at the last minute. When Felton came in behind her, she closed the door.
"We haven't used the pool table in quite awhile," he smiled happily.
"Milord," she sighed, "enough is enough. Your bum is creating contention among your fellows. Perhaps you don't see the real reason."
"'Tis easily seen," he replied. "They're all jealous of my glorious physique and don't like being reminded of it."
She stared. "Felton, my dear, you all have exactly the same physique. You know that. I'm sorry, but I'm putting my foot down – you need to wear something more than your birthday suit around here. I don't want Hook to rip you a new, er, arse. I much prefer your 'glorious physique' as presently packaged."
"Hmmph. So what is the real reason, then?" mumbled Milord.
"I think everyone, including you, thinks you will be getting preferential treatment with your blatant display. Are you really so uncertain of your worth to me?" she said sadly.
Felton was dismayed at inadvertently causing distress to her, and thought about her words. Was he feeling eclipsed by Hook's splendor, Lucius's elegance, Tavington's uniform (women always loved uniforms), and even Percy's ferocity? He began to wilt. What did he have to offer, the poorest and least educated of the group? He had been someone special in the Dark Ages, but here, his peerage was outdated and worthless. What else did he have to offer her?
"Felton, love, I don't need to be constantly reminded of your presence by seeing you in the altogether. Do you know why I value you? You are far and away the most natural, the earthiest of the lot. I find that very sexy, Felton. You are elemental male, Milord, no frills, no uptight layers. I can totally relax in your company. You are very special to me."
Felton gaped at her. "I am?"
"Of course, you are," she hugged him tightly. "And always will be, Milord. I'm so sorry I haven't successfully made that clear to you." She sniffed and smiled, "Now, how do we solve the clothing problem? What would you be willing to wear around the house? Another loincloth?"
"Well, "he said hesitantly, "I always liked my leggings, but not the leather ones. They chafe."
"Good enough, Milord." If you can get past your fabric allergies, there are marvelous synthetics that would make wonderful leggings with no sagging. Any color you want."
Felton blushed at her reference to his "allergies". They both knew he'd faked his afflictions. "No fancy colors," he said. "Just brown or grey, maybe."
She smiled with genuine pleasure. "I think you'll look splendid in your leggings. And maybe some soft boots. Promise me no shirt, though, except possibly in winter. I love your medallion."
Felton smiled back, a soft gleam appearing in his eyes. He started slowly backing her toward the pool table. "As long as we're already here, my dove…"
ChapterFour
Percy's Problem
Percy sat smoking a cigarette, contemplating the storage locker where his sledgehammer was kept. His mood worsened as he thought about his inability to free his tool from the protection spells that Lucius's wand had wound around the locker. Stupid git, showing her how to use it. Now only she had the words to open the locker and get all their weapons, that damned magic stick included. Lucius sailed around the house with the rest of his cane, uncaring that his weapon was gone. But I care he thought, I care!
She saw Percy staring at the locker again. He must have finished the books and investments for the month for the entire estate. His experience in dealing with money had been gratefully accepted by the group as his contribution to the estate. Even if occasionally Lucius called it doubledealing.
Deciding to interrupt his solitude this time, she wandered into the room and sat down beside him. Percy instantly put out his cigarette in his ashtray. He knew she didn't like to breathe the smoke and he'd heard secondhand smoke was more dangerous than the smoker's inhalations. He didn't want to harm her.
"Thank you, Percy," she smiled at him. "Are you missing your sledgehammer again?"
A brief crafty look crossed his face and was gone. "I don't like being left defenseless in a house full of men who have spent their lives honing their skills in combat. Except maybe Lucius, and he could talk his way out of anything."
"Oh, Percy, that is something I have always liked so much about you. You, more than any of the others are so wily that you keep me constantly on my toes."
"Not the only place I like to keep you, "he said under his breath.
She didn't acknowledge his crude remark, but continued, "That was an excellent effort at manipulation," she grinned. "Go for the place you think a person is most vulnerable. In my case, start me worrying about your safety. But Percy, if I give you your sledgehammer, and the others their weapons, how does that lessen my worries about safety? That maneuver just wasn't completely thought out, being on-the-fly as it was."
Percy shrugged, wondering for the thousandth time, What am I doing here? Why do I stay with these people when I don't even like them? He wasn't much given to introspection when he could spend his time more profitably pulling other peoples' strings. But he suddenly realized he actually didn't much like anybody, so where he lived was immaterial. And this place was better than most. His mind automatically shied away from thinking she was a major reason for his domestic arrangements. She just gives me a challenge, that's all. Well, not exactly all, he admitted to himself, she was a bit like a narcotic, wasn't she. Addictive and all, but only physically, he insisted, I can leave anytime I want.
She reached over and took his hand. "Tell me about your sledgehammer, Percy. How did you get it? Why is it so important to you? It's certainly an unusual weapon of choice." She looked up at him confidingly.
"You know I've killed people with it," he said to shock her away from the subject.
"Yes, I do know that. But I wonder if you realize that you are something of a novice as a murderer in this house?"
He blinked at her in surprise.
"Hadn't you ever thought about it?" she asked. Milord Felton was slicing throats back in the Dark Ages, Hook sent countless numbers off the plank, gutted others, and shot even more. Tavington had an unsavory reputation for killing even in the middle of a legitimate war, and our elegant Lucius was known as a Death Eater, killing innocent civilians for sport. I'm afraid your sledgehammer is nearly unsullied next to their weapons."
Percy had always had such a nasty view of himself as an unparalleled and unredeemable criminal that he hadn't fully examined the histories of his fellows. In most crowds he was easily the worst of the lot. He was drawn up short by her words. In this crowd he hardly even qualified as bad.
"I need to work on dinner, Percy. I'll see you at the table." She kissed his cheek and left him.
Percy continued to sit still long after she'd gone. I'm not the worst. I'm not the cruelest. I'm not even the most unlovable. Was it relief he actually felt? She obviously thought enough of him to want him with her. Cynically, he had always thought less of her for that, while thoroughly enjoying her attentions. But the others were obviously important to her even with their pasts; was he actually important to her too? Somewhere inside him, he felt something ease.
She walked into the kitchen, a worried frown on her face. I'm losing him, she thought. It was a long shot, taking away his sledgehammer. The loss of his weapon wasn't refocusing his attention like it had with the others. She was coming to a standstill in how to reach him. He needed her so much, but he wouldn't reach out. Maybe couldn't reach out.
An hour later, Percy strolled into the kitchen. He slowly wandered around the perimeter of the room several times, stopping to observe various dishes she was preparing.
She smiled happily at him and offered him a stool. "Oh good, someone to keep me company while I finish up the dinner preparations. I'm glad it's you. I don't have much luck with the others in the kitchen. They either have ideas on how I should be making the food – and you can read Lucius and Will there – or Felton is bemoaning my cutting up his beautiful vegetables. Hook just wants the food on the table and slows me down while he complains. That man has a hollow leg to make up for his missing hand."
Percy sat down on the offered stool. "You could have asked me before this," he said.
"Truly, Percy, I never thought to ask any of you for company. They have all been banished while I'm cooking, and mistakenly, I lumped you in with them. I realize now that I lost a chance to be with you. Well, that hurts my heart, but it's a lesson to me, I guess."
"Why does it hurt? Your heart, I mean?" Percy watched her suspiciously.
"Well, when you have a chance at a big money-making deal and you lose your chance because of your own lack of action, how do you feel, Percy?"
"Angry," he said instantly. "My heart doesn't hurt."
"Maybe I'm explaining it poorly," she responded. "You are angry with yourself, right?"
"Yes, I suppose so. I'm angry with myself. Then I get angry with everyone else. Then I get my sledgehammer."
"Well, that's the feeling I was trying to explain. I'm just angry with myself for losing your company. But for me it feels like my heart hurts. I don't have a sledgehammer. I just feel sad."
"So I'm making you sad," he started to back away.
"Percy, you are not listening," she exclaimed, upset at how he had twisted her words. "Is that all you heard me say just now? That you make me sad? I hope you aren't handling our finances with the same logic."
Percy stood up. "Our finances are in perfect shape. If you don't trust me, I'll give control back to you."
"Oh, Percy," she started to cry quietly. "You don't trust me! What have I done to make you so unhappy with me?"
"I – I'm not unhappy with you, I – just leave me alone!" Percy stalked out of the kitchen. He didn't appear for dinner and went missing all evening.
Percy walked uptown and tried to find some action at a nightclub. Ten minutes later he knew he was in the wrong place and he left. Bollocks, he thought as he sat down on a bench, now I'm hanging out in a freakin' park.
He came through the front door of the house at three o'clock in the morning. He was tired and worn down, but he felt surprisingly light inside. He went directly up the stairs to her bedroom door and knocked quietly.
After a moment a small, woebegone voice said, "Who is it?"
"It's David," Percy said.
She opened the door to Percy's voice. "Oh, Percy, I've missed you so. I was worried …"
He walked her backward into her room and closed the door. "Please, call me David. Not Percy, okay? David's my real name and I've decided I prefer it."
"Of course. David is a lovely name, so calm and timeless. Was Percy a nickname?" she pulled him to sit down on her bed and settled beside him.
"No longer." He rushed on, "I didn't like making you cry. Now I know what you meant. My heart hurt."
Her breath caught. "David!" She nestled into his arms and put her head on his shoulder, "if your sledgehammer is so very important to you, I'll return it if you want."
"No, I don't need it any more. But I do need something, - no, someone else," he looked at her with his heart in his eyes.
She gently pushed him backward onto her bed and turned out the bedside lamp.
Chapter Five
Lucius as Usual
Lucius Malfoy was an amazing man. Unfortunately, Lucius was the first one who'd tell you so. It was so much a part of his heritage that he never really saw his arrogance or patronizing attitude as others did. Luckily, most of his compatriots at home were just the same, so very few feelings were trampled among the crew.
However, Mr. Malfoy also had Expectations. The others snickered and spelled the word with a capital E. Lucius was not amused. He was the product of centuries of privilege and Expected others to accommodate his wishes. His ex-wife, Narcissa, had fallen afoul of his arrogance when she was caught in a brief affair with a squib, a wizard with no magical ability. Lucius gave her a generous divorce and a one-way portkey to Paris, although it was never clear if her transgression had been the affair or consorting with a squib.
Lucius' saving grace was that he could also be extremely charming. He was usually able to dig himself out of the more serious holes his self-centric universe dropped him into. He also knew when to let an Expectation go when it was hopeless to pursue it. In short, Lucius Malfoy was an accomplished survivor.
Her handsome wizard brought a larger vision to the group, generally a good thing, and his plans were always on a grand scale. His more grandiose eccentricities could mostly be ignored, but occasionally one of his notions clashed with everyone. His latest project was going to throw the household into an uproar.
"I am the representative for all dealings with outside agencies so this comes under my jurisdiction," Lucius explained to his angry fellows. It was true he dealt with all the business that entailed outside contracts. He was very accomplished at getting better deals out of businesses than they thought they were going to give. She sometimes suspected Lucius of a bit of magical persuasion but couldn't prove anything.
"The exterior is my area," said Felton. "You don't have decision making authority for that."
"Not for the gardens, no, but this is attached to the house, so you don't have a legging to stand on," Lucius gibed, looking at those articles on Felton's legs with disdain.
"Then it is my area," said Tavington, "and I vote no."
"I didn't say it was in the house, so it isn't your area either," Lucius said dismissingly.
"It will mean all the security equipment has to be rewired, so I vote no," added Hook.
"The security equipment is outdated anyway, with the new technology now available. My business contacts tell me wireless is in. Any more questions?"
Percy, now called David, was silent. Lucius had already run the numbers for the project by him and the expense was within reason. He also knew his rooms were at the opposite end of the house so any noise wouldn't affect him.
She entered the conflict by saying, "This is going to block the kitchen door for weeks. Can't it go somewhere else?"
"It will also block the entire rear of the house, including the library, living room, and study doors, plus the French doors from the conservatory. But only for a month or so. Progress always entails some sacrifice." Lucius saw immediately those arguments weren't helping so he changed his tactics. "Try to think past that to the glorious terrace we'll have al fresco meals, dancing outside among the stars, a place for Hook and Percy er, David, to smoke..." Lucius hated them smoking indoors. This last point, ironically swayed the group. All saw an advantage to themselves, smokers and non-smokers alike.
Weekends, when the workers were gone, were, as always, time for relaxation and fun and drawing straws. However, during the week all the workmen and dust and noise wore on everyone's nerves. Spontaneous pantry and pool table visits were a thing of the past and everyone was getting grouchy, even Mister Mastermind Malfoy. But the day finally came when there was blessed silence at the back of the house. The entire household gathered to inspect the finished terrace and pronounced it beautiful. If private thoughts centered more on what extracurricular activities it would be put to, nobody mentioned it. Lucius had his ten minutes of acclaim for a successful project, then everyone went off to bring out the outdoor furniture.
A week later Lucius was feeding one of his owls on the new terrace. As usual, he was spreading the owl food without worrying who was going to sweep up the mess. Fastidious to a fault personally, he still thought the world was populated with unseen house elves. She grabbed the broom from the closet and went out onto the terrace.
"Lucius, I brought you the broom so you can sweep up the owl food."
"I? Ask Felton to do it. He's in charge of the exterior." Lucius eyed the broom with dislike. "Or you could let me have my wand for a moment, and I could clear this away with no trouble."
She gave him a gimlet stare. "Tell me, Lucius, who hemmed your new cashmere cape last week because it was too long and you didn't want to wait for the tailor to fix it?"
Lucius looked at her warily, "That was different. You can't expect me to do manual labor when I have always used a wand."
"An interesting premise, Lucius. I wonder why it didn't occur to you to ask to do your own hem with your wand?"
Lucius patiently explained, "I couldn't have done the magical sewing as precisely as you could do it by hand. It made more sense for you to do the work."
"That's exactly what I think, too." She looked from Lucius to the owl food all over the terrace. "It makes more sense for you to do the work." She lifted her eyebrow in perfect imitation of his intimidating manner. "Dinner will be ready just about the time you are finished."
Lucius heard the underlying threat and knew he was going to become intimately acquainted with a muggle broom. It didn't even fly, for Merlin's sake. But dinner was going to be his favorite tonight. He sighed, "Give me the broom. If this is a lesson to me, be assured I have learned it." He smiled at her. "I truly did appreciate your sewing. And next time I'll feed my owl on the lawn." He grimaced, "I loathe manual labor."
After dinner, Lucius asked her to inspect his sweeping job. Carefully wrapping her in his cloak, he firmly cupped his hand on the nape of her neck. She shivered at the sensuous magical waves expanding throughout her nervous system. Lucius gently guided her out the back door into the darkness.
"Lucius," she said, "it's dark outside. I can't see the terrace well enough to tell what sort of job you've done."
"Yes, I know," he laughed, a roguish twinkle in those mesmerizing pale blue eyes.
She looked down. Sure enough, Lucius had Expectations.
Chapter Six
Hook's Lament
James was polishing his hooks with the pirated polish, singing a dirty little sea ditty while he worked. After he had his equipment all shipshape, he went to check on a loose window catch in the dining room.
Wireless, my arse, snorted Hook as he walked toward the dining room. Lucius always thought he knew best. Hell, so did Tavington. Two more unpleasant shipmates it would be hard to find. If they didn't also have their uses, he would have keelhauled them long ago. But Hook was a pragmatic man who loved his creature comforts. Malfoy's new terrace allowed him to sit in peace and watch the ocean as he smoked, while Tavington always managed to procure his favorite expensive cigars.
His best creature comfort found him an hour later, blowing a cloud on the terrace. She sat a little apart from him until he had finished his dual cigars. Then she came to him and wriggled onto his lap.
"What was it like inside a crocodile, James?"
"Slimy," he said, "and the smell was worse than the latrine on the Jolly Roger. Both were strong motivations to be elsewhere quickly. I was lucky I had my hook. But the gold threads on my blood red outfit were never the same. A pity, that," he said sorrowfully.
"I'm so glad you survived, James," she stroked his face.
"Pan and those Lost Boys took off with my ship – bedamned to the lot of them. No Pan, no ship, and no crocodile. Boring, really, so I left."
"Are you bored here, James?"
"With such an array of arrogant asses living here, life is definitely not boring. It's actually quite diverting if you include the contents of my lap," he leered.
"Oh, you mean the contents poking my backside?" she asked with an innocent look.
"No," he parried with a wicked smile, "the contents wiggling around suggestively on my poker."
She laughed, but sobered quickly. "James," she said gently, "It's time to get fitted for a new prosthesis. You have put it off, and your arm isn't getting any better. They have wonderful appliances now."
His smile disappeared completely, "I'm not going under a damned barber's knife."
"James, it's much better now. You're not limited to Neverland any more. You won't even be awake while they fix your arm."
"Are you unhappy looking at my arm?" he asked, hurt.
"No, not the way you mean," she tried to explain. "You're like a nervous virgin, never showing your stump to anyone. It's just a stump, for heaven's sake. Let a qualified surgeon reset the end and then get a good prosthesis. I know your arm constantly hurts you the way it is now. And that hurts me."
Hook realized he was hurting her and he never wanted that. "I'm not afraid of getting sliced in a good fight, but being asleep while a stranger takes a knife to me…" But he knew his argument was lost and in the end he promised her.
She went to the hospital every day while he was there to see and reassure him. She knew he was angry to be in a place he didn't understand and where he didn't give the orders. But a few days later, he was home again, relaxing on the terrace in his brocade robe, enjoying the ocean. She sat on his lap again enjoying her own view.
"You know," he said, "Wendy gave Pan a kiss and it made him all better. I'm going to have a tiny heart tattoo just here," he pointed to the newly repaired end of his right arm. "Then you can kiss it every day and make it better for me." Hook watched her closely to see her reaction.
She twinkled up at him, "If you think my kisses will be as powerful as Wendy's, I'd be delighted to help you mend. Maybe I should get a tiny tattoo just like yours and the kisses can become a private tradition just for us."
"Old," he said, starting their Neverland game.
"Gorgeous male," she said.
"Alone," he said.
"Alone together, James. What are you going to do about it?"
"Done for," he ended.
"Not hardly, Captain," she laughed.
Hook gave her a wicked grin and picked her up in his arms. "Very well, I'm not quite done for, but I am still an invalid, remember. Let's go to my rooms. I need to lie down to investigate where to place your tattoo."
Chapter Seven
Five is Just the Start
She called them all into the dining room. "Well gentlemen, it seems I'm pregnant." She heard a loud simultaneous, "What?"
Tavington said, "How did that happen, milady?" All the others looked witheringly at him. Tav ignored the looks and said, "I thought I had supplied you with the prescriptions you wanted in a timely manner."
"Well, Tav, as the doctor said, nothing is foolproof. She also termed it water under the bridge, and I have to agree," milady replied.
David said slowly, "I suppose when the baby comes, we can have DNA testing to see who the father is."
The others looked interested.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing and just looked at him quizzically.
"Ah, no, I guess not," David said. "We all have the same DNA, don't we?"
Four faces fell.
"I'm afraid so," she replied. "Is it so important?"
Lucius looked at the others, "Not really, no. Of course, I'll be able to tell if it's mine. Malfoys always have silver blonde hair." The others looked at him with dislike.
"Conversely," she said, "You will know absolutely if it is not yours. There would be no chance for you to be the father, unlike everyone else."
Lucius looked taken aback as that truth hit him. Being singled out as a nonstarter didn't sound so attractive.
The next few months were alternately joyful, trying, and confusing as four males who hadn't thought much about being fathers tried to adjust to the idea. Lucius was an experienced father, so the shock was less for him, but a new baby was an adjustment for him too. Lucius had been very much younger the first time he'd had a child.
A baby would change their lives, but she had hopes for each of the group. Tav would have to loosen up. David would know innocence again. Hook would have to let go of his anger toward children. And she hoped Lucius would connect with this child more than he had with his son, Draco. Felton would probably do just fine, having a simple affinity for life himself.
Then the day came when she again called everyone to the dining room. "I've just come from the doctor's. She wanted to run an ultrasound. I've more news." She looked apprehensively around the table. "Doc says there is more than one baby."
"Twins?" asked Felton.
"Maybe more," she said reluctantly.
"How many more?" asked Tav, forever practical.
"Doc thinks quints." At the blank stares, she said, "Five, okay? Five. One for each of you," she joked weakly.
Five arrested expressions stared back at her. Then the room cleared instantly.
"My, that went well," she said sadly to the empty room.
Ten minutes later, they all rushed back into the dining room dressed in their less flamboyant mall-hopping clothes.
"We want to get to the stores before the mall closes, "said an excited Felton.
"You can set dinner back an hour, can't you?" asked the ever organized Tav.
"Why are you crying, my dear?" asked Hook sympathetically.
"Probably hormones, "answered Lucius. Hook looked a question at him. "You don't want to know," said Lucius.
"I can stay with you if you aren't feeling well," said David.
An argument soon erupted among the rest of the group.
"Swordfighting," said Felton.
"Fishing," declared Hook.
"Musketry," claimed Tavington.
David looked at them and said, "Accounting. At least it's useful."
Lucius scoffed at them all and said, "Quidditch!"
"Huh? What the hell is a quidditch?" Hook glared.
"Never mind," Lucius replied, but he looked secretive.
She perked up at their enthusiasms, but soon relapsed into melancholia. "I hope you won't be disappointed if they're girls."
The men huddled together with whispers. Then Hook spoke for them, "Swordfighting, fishing, musketry, accounting, and …whatever the hell Lucius said."
"Definitely quidditch," Lucius pronounced.
They all rushed off to the mall leaving the mother-to-be in the dining room alone. "I hope the babies are athletic," she said to herself. "What's a quidditch?"
It soon dawned on the men that their usual activities with her were going to be severely reduced. At dinner David asked the question first, "How does this affect you? Your health?"
"A lot of bed rest," she said. Everyone brightened. "Alone," she added. "Let's just say the can of straws is going into the drawer for the next four months." And for two months after the birth, she thought, but no use completely demoralizing them at this point.
"But you'll be okay?" Hook worried. Hook, Felton and Tavington knew many women died in childbirth.
"The doctor says there should be no problems. And with all of you surrounding me, I'll be absolutely perfect," she reassured them.
Not surprisingly, she turned out to be the grouchiest one, being mostly confined to bed. All those beautiful helpers and she was stuck in a granny gown, courtesy of Tav, damn his soul. But he gave her excellent backrubs so she decided to let him live.
Hook found a way to relieve her swollen feet with massages by holding each foot in his lap while rubbing it with his left hand. Her moving foot turned out to be very pleasurable for both of them, and she was soon awash in foot rubs from all of her helpers.
Felton kept her room bright with plants and flowers, while David read to her. Lucius was allowed to use his wand to elevate her each day to weightlessness, which helped her cope with her increasing girth. They all volunteered to help her rub cocoa butter on her swelling tummy for stretch marks, even though that was probably an exercise in futility. Nobody seemed to mind. Occasionally the cocoa butter wound up a bit higher on her frame than her tummy, but nobody minded that either.
The day, or rather the night, finally arrived when she started her labor. She was delivered to the hospital at her first twinge, complaining all the way. Everything went as smoothly as possible given the unusual circumstances. But all the babies were whisked away to the neonatal nursery for observation much to the disappointment of the fathers who had not been allowed in the operating room. All they found out was that the new mother was doing fine and they had five new baby girls.
The next day they were allowed to visit her and would get their first glimpses of the quints. They all tried to get through the door to her room at once, then realigned and trooped in with more dignity. They immediately ranged about her bed.
"How are you feeling, my love?" asked Tavington, his tender side peeking out.
She didn't get to answer before she heard, "When can we take you home?" this from Hook, who still didn't like hospitals.
"We brought you flowers," smiled Felton. "You look beautiful," he added.
She thought maybe Felton was going to need glasses, but she gamely replied, "I'm fine--I go home in a week--thank you for the lovely flowers--and Felton, now I know love is bind." David and Lucius just moved to hold her hands.
Suddenly the door opened and five nurses came in pushing five bassinets. The men were silent as all the pink-blanketed babies were lined up against the wall beside her bed. The last nurse out the door stopped at Hook's side and looked up at him. She said over her shoulder to the new mother, "Unfair, having all these gorgeous men to yourself, dearie. Why don't you leave this one at the nurses' station?" She laughed and left the room. Hook was looking intently at one of the babies and never heard the nurse's remark.
She could easily tell each baby's father. She'd had the infants with her last night and it was obvious to her. But she wondered if the fathers could tell their own children.
Lucius, of course, had no trouble. He picked up his new daughter and said proudly, "Malfoy genes always breed true." Her silver blonde wisps of hair had given her away. He was already welcoming her to the Malfoy dynasty with a hug and kiss. "Draco is going to love her!" he exclaimed.
All the other fathers had moved decisively to a particular bassinet, no disputes, no hesitations. Each father knew his own daughter, just as she had. Felton picked up his daughter immediately, having been more used to infants in his past. He immediately announced, "Oops, need more swaddling here." But he held her closely, clucking and smiling at her. Hook took a bit more trouble to lift his daughter with only one good hand but he soon balanced her on his new prosthetic arm and began unwrapping her to be sure she had both of her hands. He sighed with pleasure and rocked her slowly.
David and Tav took longer, watching their daughters a bit fearfully at first, but both babies started waving their tiny arms in the air. That stirred both fathers to lift and gently cuddle their own infants against their hearts. All the men looked dazed but thrilled with their offspring. Deep sighs of contentment came from all five infatuated fathers.
All of the girls were tiny right now but she knew that would soon change. More interestingly, none of her babies had the uncertain eye color of newborns. Each and every one of them had the beautiful pale blue eyes of her father.
The End