A/N: Just some random fluff inspired by some snippets from The Cosby Show (from which I also borrowed most of the dialogue). No real plot, although I may continue it, but I just wanted to get it out of my system :) Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
All's Fair
"What are you doing?"
A guilty looking five year old Katrina turned around to face her father. "Hello Daddy," she said sweetly, ignoring his question.
"Katie," he began in a warning tone, "you know that there are two things you're doing wrong. What's the first one?"
Katie looked down at her feet, "Standing on a chair…"
"And the second?"
Katrina bit her lip, deep in thought. Seeing that she wasn't sure, Michael crossed the room, "Your hands do not touch this clock," he told her, removing them from the grandfather clock and shutting the front of it.
Katie nodded solemnly.
"Now what were you doing on the chair?" he asked, picking her up off it and carrying it back to its proper place by the desk in the corner.
"The clock had the wrong time," she replied as Michael sat down, putting her on his lap.
Michael raised an eyebrow, "So you had to stand on the chair to tell the clock?"
"No, I was fixing it."
"You were fixing the clock? What makes you think that there was anything wrong with it?" he asked.
"My watch says a different time."
"And what makes you so sure that the clock is wrong and not your watch?"
"My watch is newer."
"I see, so you're saying that things that are newer run better than things that are older?" he asked her.
Katrina fought back the smile that crept onto her face as the implications of what her father meant sunk in.
Michael also fought his own amused expression, "Well, smiling face?" he pressed.
"Yes," she stated blithely.
"Do you know I'm older than you?" he asked, Katrina nodded, "That makes you newer than me," Katrina nodded again, "but I run better than you do. I don't fall down unless I don't see something," he told her. She giggled and Michael let his smile break through, "No more using furniture for ladders, ok?" he asked.
"Ok," she agreed.
"You owe me a kiss," he told her, putting out his cheek, Katrina grinned and obliged.
"Good girl," he told her, kissing her in turn and sending her on her way.
Once she was gone Michael continued on into the kitchen, he found Jackie examining a mug that she'd just gotten from the cupboard.
"Michael look at this," she ordered, showing him the mug, "someone has broken my favourite mug and then glued it back together," she continued.
Michael shook his head in disbelief, "Someone glued it back together and put it back in the cupboard?"
"How did you know it was in the cupboard?" Jackie asked, starting to look suspicious.
"I just assumed that it came from right in the back of the cupboard," he replied innocently, handing back the mug.
"How did you know it was right in the back of the cupboard, Michael?" Jackie challenged.
Michael knew he was caught, "Do I need a lawyer?" he asked.
Jackie made a noise somewhere between amusement and exasperation, "Michael look at this mug! There's glue all over the handle, a chip and there's glue in the cup."
"I did that on purpose," he defended himself, "so you'd think one of the children did it," he added at her confused look.
"Michael! I nearly took this to the children and accused them of breaking it," she told him in exasperation.
"And they would have denied it."
"But I wouldn't have believed them," she spluttered in disbelief.
"Exactly," he agreed.
Jackie shook her head, "You are too much, do you know that?" she asked him.
Michael smiled at her, "But you love me," he countered leaning over the bench to kiss her, but she stepped back.
"Oh no, I still haven't forgiven you for breaking my mug and framing the children," she told him with an amused twinkle.
"Oh really?"
"Yes."
"And how can I make it up to you?" he asked, coming around to her side of the bench.
She gave him a small grin, "I'm sure I'll think of something," she assured him.
Michael placed his hands on either side on the bench and leaned in for another kiss. Just as he was about to close the distance Jackie puffed a handful of flour in his face from the open bag next to her.
"That works for a start," she said with a giggle as she slipped from his grasp and out the door.
Michael wiped the flour from his eyes; still in a state of mild shock, "You know this means war," he called after her.
Jackie's only response was laughter.