Title: Proposition
Fandom: Penguins of Madagascar
Pairing(s): Julien/Skipper, one sided Private/Skipper
Warning: Sex scene, homosexuality, interspecies, furries
Rated: M for Mature
Summary: It's been quite some time since Julien was in Madagascar, with all those lovely ladies and sometimes gentlemen falling over him, ready to sate his every desire, but now his only lemur plebeians are Mort and Maurice, and they simply will not do.

The sun was settling beyond the horizon, the sky painted yellow and pink; the lemurs, being nocturnal mammals, were becoming increasingly rowdy with anticipation for the closing of the zoo. "Get ready…" Julien beamed wolfishly, his finger lingering over the 'on' button to his boom box. Alice the zookeeper closed the gates and Julien immediately pressed the switch.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

The music loud and wholly grating, enough to tear through the thickest of earmuffs; the fauna covered their ears (if they had any); having learned that yelling only caused the lemur to raise the volume. Skipper, however, had yet to discover any such thing, or was too stubborn to allow Julien to continue. "Canned Tuna in water! Turn down that racket." The penguin ordered furiously, throwing a flipper harshly in the bounding lemurs' direction.

Maurice hurried to turn the music down, and both Julien and Mort paused in their euphoric bop. "Wha – who?" the lemur king turned and instantly caught sight of the twitching bird. "OH, hello, neighbor." He said with a little more affection than needed, tapping his fingers together. Maurice was the first to pick it up and he swiveled onto Julien in confusion. Julien gave him a frightening stare, seemingly to convey, "Don't say words."

"Oh…" Maurice paused. He chuckled nervously, and, taking Mort by the scruff of his neck, backed away. "Hey, we're gonna go get you some popcorn, your majesty."

"What?" Julien hissed, glowering as his right hand man's diminishing tail. Some right hand man.

"Yay! Popcorn!" Mort cried with good cheer, jerking his petite legs as Maurice hopped away. "Bye-bye, King Julien! Miss you!"

Finding himself alone with the penguin, Julien turned to eye the bird, maintaining a self-important outer surface while hiding an uneasy core. "You are to be listening up, flightless bird," he began a little more harshly than he had intended, but proceeded anyway. "A king can be doing whatever a king wants to be doing. So, shut up." He flourished a paw through the air superficially, then placed in back upon his hips.

"I don't think so, lower mammal." Skipper replied, raising a brow at the somehow unusual performance surrounding the lemur, but he didn't know how or why, and, as a result, failed to dwell on it any more than he really should have. "Don't you get it," Skipper tapped his flippers against his flat skull. "This is a democratic government, and I don't recall voting you into office."

"Voting?" Julien snorted, "I am a KING, no one voted, I was born dis amazing." He pointed to his face, his grin rising as Skipper peered up as if he were considering it.

"No."

"No?"

"NO. The only kings that exist live in fairy tales and England." The flat-topped military penguin sneered while Julien's smile dimmed significantly. Skipper placed his flippers at his middle, mimicking Julien, in a way.

The lemur monarch "humph"ed, his yellow eyes narrowing as a pouting fit rose like acidic bile in his throat. Then, he thought of an awful idea. A terribly awful idea, but one that would get him what he wanted, so it had some good in it, too. For him, anyway. "I am betting that you would enjoy a whole month without me, or my music." He added slyly.

Skipper's face turned blank as he twisted it around in his head. Of course he could do without Julien for a whole month, but what was the catch? "That depends. What do you want for it?"

Julien bit his lip (or ya know, whatever) and tapped his paws together, mulling it over. There was only one thing he really wanted – and it was something he hadn't experienced since his days in Madagascar, when all the females (and males) had found him the most attractive thing in the forest. Now that Julien found someone other than himself eye-catching, the one that had caught his eye did not return those feelings. "What about…" he began, glancing over the penguin for a minute, and looking away just as quickly. "Um, a, uh, favor."

"What kind of favor are you suggesting?" Skipper inquired, ever vigilant.

"You know where de babies come from?" Julien countered with another question, to which Skipper nodded, not liking where this was headed. "Something like that, except between you and I."

Skipper stared, understandably confused. "Pardon?"

Julien worried his paws. "…You know." He believed that was a maybe.

"Two months." Skipper demanded, glaring doggedly. He wasn't in favor of this proposal, he merely sought for Julien to acknowledge there was better deal.

"One and a half!"

"Three months!"

"Deal."

"…oh."

"See? I am willing to do de negotiating. Is it a deal?" Julien's grin returned to full blast, his small, razor teeth reflecting soft light from the lamps.

Skipper huffed, and scoffed. "Just, keep it down, lemur." He hissed and sped away, in too much of a hurry to hear what Julien bellowed at his retreating backside. Once at his enclosure, he lingered at the opening under the fish bowl. Was Julien serious? He would like to believe the he wasn't, but there was that resolute sparkle in the lemur's eyes. And, he had to ask himself, was it worth it at all? A night of…he couldn't even think about what that entailed.

"Was that a yes, flight—uh, Skipper?" Julien cried after him, almost desperately.

Skipper disregarded the proclaimed monarch of the lemurs and, instead, hurried into the HQ. His boys were still asleep, their earmuffs fastened tight. It was a wonder how they could sleep so soundly—Private groaned and turned onto his back, looking disturbed—maybe not so soundly. The leader sighed and waddled closer, reaching up and chastely covering the young soldier's stomach with the blanket.

Immediately, Private smiled and mumbled something that sounded like "Skippah," but paid it no heed, in fact, he felt he might have hallucinated it. He was dead tired, in any case. But there was something he had to talk about with Kowalski. He heaved himself up over the lip of the top bunk and hissed, "Kowalski!" past his flipper.

Said penguin grumbled, his brows making an angry 'V' over his closed eyes. "Nn…no, the hypotenuse is too large…"

Skipper raised a brow, jabbing poor Kowalski in the stomach. "Kowalski."

"Huh?" Kowalski turned to face an irate looking Skipper. "Oh, hello Skipper, what—"

"SHH, turn down the scream machine, Kowalski, Private and Rico are still sleeping. Let's keep it that way."

Perturbed, Kowalski nodded, and whispered, "What's wrong, sir? You appear troubled." Skipper strained himself to keep from averting his eyes from Kowalski's. If he happened to look away, Kowalski, ever the observant bird, would know something was up.

"No, no. Except," he paused, gazing pensively at his inferior. "Let's be hypothetical."

"Hypothetical? Of course." All of his suspicions vanished and he grinned. Theoretics were something he excelled in. "Go ahead."

"Okay, let's say there are two magnets who have reverse polarities." Skipper began, holding his flippers out and tried to bring them together unsuccessfully, as Kowalski nodded compellingly. "One magnet—let's call him Jul, uh, Jasper—proposed a proposition to the second magnet—let's call this one Ski—" Kowalski looked on expectantly. "Andinavia. Scandinavia."

"Okay, Skipper, but how do magnets propose anything to one another? They are inanimate objects, without thoughts, or life. Sir, I—"

"I said it's rhetorical." Skipper interrupted, shaking a flipper.

"Sir, though I'd hate to disagree, I do believe you said it was hypothetical, not rhetorical. You see, hypothetical ideas are—"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. Now, may I continue or not?"

"Sorry, Skipper, yes." Kowalski looked down, abashed, and leaned on the bend of his wing. "It was rude of me to cut you short."

Skipper waved the apology away with objection, but persisted. "So this Jasper proposed a proposition to Scandinavia. Scandinavia is cautious about this, it's not something he likes or even wants to do, but the reward is great. If he goes through with it, then Jasper will leave him alone for a few months. What do you think I, er, Scandinavia should do?"

Kowalski, during this time, had taken out his options clipboard and had written furiously, glancing up every now and then to see Skipper's upsetting stare. "Sir, without great sacrifice, there is no great reward." he advised, "If this...Scandinavia..." Kowalski said the word as if he knew something Skipper didn't, "finds the situation to be too uncomfortable, well, then he should refuse."

"But, consider this," Skipper barreled on, "Scandinavia has a few friends who dislike Jasper just as much as he does. And he thinks that—in the best interest of his team—that he should go ahead and do it."

Ignoring the fact that they were speaking of magnets as if they were live, intelligent beings, Kowalski give the impression of being thoughtful for a moment, though he just happened to say whatever was on his mind at the moment. "Objectively, I see where you're coming from Skipper. I think the question Scandinavia needs to ask himself is: would it be worth it?"

For an instant, Skipper chewed that around in his mind, perpetuating it until the point of insanity and he sighed. "Thank you, Kowalski, that was very…insightful."

"My pleasure, sir." Kowalski beamed.

Skipper slid into his carved out nook, waiting for the heavy breathing that signified slumber. When all was quiet, Skipper carefully stole from his habitat and back to Julien's. "Julien?" he whispered, then peeked up into the lemur's throne. "Julien!" he said, a bit harsher.

Julien fell from the high chair, flat on his face. "OW, geezies, Maurice, can you not be seeing dat I am…oh." For a reason Skipper refused to look further into, Julien brightened considerably. "Ah, Skipper! Hello, neighbor!"

"Hmph." Skipper returned. "All right, ringtail," the word tasted sour on his tongue, "I'll take you up on your offer. Not now!" he yelled as Julien inched closer to him, and knocked him flat on his bottom. "Tomorrow, in the HQ. I'll get rid of the boys and you meet me there at twenty-hundred hours."

"…um."

Skipper sighed, slumping a little. "Eight p.m."

"Oh, no problem, I knew that. I was just testing your birdie brain, duh."

"Right…"

With such, Skipper departed from the lemur enclosure, an ill feeling in his stomach, anxiously awaiting the next day to disappear.

A/N: Sex in the next chapter.