So, obviously anyone who saw the game last night (or wasn't napping under a rock) knows the outcome. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. The plot is just RIGHT. THERE.

This story has absolutely no canon from my others. Complete stand-alone.


The oven timer chimed throughout the kitchen of the Fenton household. Maddie Fenton, noticeably donning a set of normal outerwear for once (consisting of jeans and an oversized jersey of her husband's favorite team tied in a bunny knot), slipped out the large pan of fudge bars that she had spent time meticulously baking to perfection.

Taking a whiff of the luscious chocolate topping, she set it on the counter and returned to preparing the other snacks; a tray covered in Girl Scout cookies (A/N: BECAUSE THEY'RE EVERYWHERE), several bags of cheese puffs and various potato chips, and celery and carrot sticks for Sam, who, unusually for someone who condemned fanaticism about 'mindless, violent sports,' had come over to nonetheless share Danny and Tucker's company for the night. Jasmine was packing the frosting for the brownies in a cone-shaped bag for decorating in the far corner of the kitchen.

Even though it couldn't be discerned just by looking at her face, Maddie wasn't all too enthusiastic about the other guest that was arriving at their home tonight. Danny had openly been expressing his opinion on the matter for weeks now, and strangest of all, she couldn't even seem to garner a reaction from Jack.

Ever since Vlad had crash landed (so to speak) back to Earth on a shuttle ten months ago, very few people had been in contact with him, except for the Guys in White division that had promptly had him arrested. Jack had been very introverted for the next few weeks, and who could blame him? His former best friend had been hiding his identity for over twenty years, and the last time they had been together (over two years ago), Vlad had viciously let his true colors show, right before endangering the very planet they stood upon. It had taken months of consolation, and a week with an actual counselor, to convince Jack that absolutely none of this had been any of his own doing.

And even though Maddie (and most of the general population for that matter) had felt that the former billionaire deserved everything that was coming to him, she couldn't help but feel uneasy about the GIW; many attempts had already been made by the media to expose the government division for charges such as abuse of power, weapons of mass (ecto-)destruction, and others, but even though these were eventually dismissed like so many other conspiracy theories, no one could deny that the agency had a very shady way of conducting business. More than once Maddie and Danny had questioned whether or not the elder half-ghost was in the right hands.

Nevertheless, it seemed like nothing had gotten out of control yet; it had been said that Vlad was now visiting a psychiatrist regularly, and the last time the Fentons had heard from anyone who had cared to inform them, it was said that he had been put on a test regimen of lithium, if Maddie had heard correctly. She had expected to see something on Jack's face, but her husband had simply squared his jaw and listened intently.

There had been no news from or of Vlad for nine months afterward. That is, until, Jazz had made a decision to march down to the GIW headquarters herself (all the way west from Harvard, no less; convincing her professors to let her take a week off had been nothing short of exhausting) and demand to know what was going on with the elder hybrid. After a brief conversation with his shrink, she had convinced him to consider if Vlad had anyway of getting in touch with the outside world, or the Fentons at the very least. Turns out Jazz had a way of picking up on her mom and brother's suspicions, even from the other end of the phone. The therapist had said (after a long, exhausting argument) that they would have to wait and see how much progress Vlad was able to make before anything could be said. Jazz had promptly relayed the information to her family, and while they were happy to know she was on the case, tentatively they really didn't know what to do with the situation at hand.

Two weeks later they had gotten a call from the therapist, saying that Vlad had been notably much more amicable as of late, and whether this was due to the lithium or a certain upcoming Superbowl, it meant that the people in charge of his security had been willing to grant him a little more freedom for the time being. If an ankle tag and 24/7 supervision counted as 'freedom.'

The family had now quite known what to do with the news; they had mulled it over for a few days, but when Jazz suggested that maybe it wouldn't be a horrible idea to invite him over on Sunday for the game, her kin had been noticeably reluctant to the idea. The persistent redhead reminded them that other than the Guy In White, Fentonworks was pretty much the best 'security' around for someone like Vlad. He would not be out of their sight, and even more, his powers (or so they had been told) would be rendered null before letting him out in public. It had taken a lot of persuading and objecting on Danny (and Sam)'s part, but eventually the Fenton's concluded that it probably wouldn't be too hard keeping an eye on the older halfa. Danny joked solemnly about how this was probably some wacky psych experiment on Jazz's part.

Jack said nothing.

Eventually the days ticked by, rolling around to today, the die-hard football fan's biggest event. Calenders were marked, TVs were blasting, parties were held, jerseys were worn. Every household and sports bar in Amity Park was packed and locked shut against the outdoor February frost. Most people were chatting, having fun, waiting out the pre-game.

The Fenton household was no different. Jack was back with his usual cheery demeanor, donning the characteristic green and gold of the Green Bay Packers on his jersey, and everyone couldn't help but feel with the cheesehead crowning his skull, everything was a little bit closer to back to normal.

He strolled into the kitchen with a tray loaded with nachos, sour cream, and five different kinds of cheeses, moving out of the way just in time as Tucker dashed in, snatched a handful of cheese puffs from another dish, and dashed out the other end with Danny hot on his trail.

Smiling, he set the tray down and affectionately kissed his wife on the cheek. His eyes visibly lit up as he caught sight of the fudge pan.

"How did you know?" he joked, holding the decorating nozzle that Jazz had handed to him. Maddie smiled in return, taking it from him and comically planting a dot of icing on his nose, which he promptly scraped off and tested (for quality, of course).

"Premonition," she retorted, resigning to the brownies at hand. Jack turned and was on his way out of the kitchen when Maddie caught sight of the clock on the oven.

6:55. Vlad said he would be here in little more than a few minutes.

Tensing, she abruptly turned around and squeaked "Jack!" before she really knew what she was doing. Too late; she had already caught her husband's attention.

"What?"

She paused, then gestured for him to come a little closer. He did so with a confused look on his face.

Taking a deep breath, she just started speaking without really having planned what she had wanted to say.

"I just... it's..." she stammered, and shook her head.

"It's just that Vlad's going to be showing up in a few minutes, and I,... well..."

Jack's expression did not change. He waited for her to finish. Sighing, Maddie put her finger unsurely to her lip.

"Well, you know he's on the medicine right now, and..."

"Yes?"

"...well, it's just... a lot has changed. So, just... keep it cool, act naturally, and..."

Jack stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Maddie," he inturrupted. She looked up, not having had made eye contact with him.

"Calm down." He smiled. "It's Game Day."

He picked up the chip tray and walked out of the kitchen.

Forcing a smile of her own, Maddie returned her attention to the brownies at hand.


A/N: So, yeah, wanted this to be a one-shot, but that's definitely not going to happen. It'll be short, though.