A/N: I own nothing, as usual.
When a man loves a woman
He can do no wrong
-Percy Sledge
Aiden was sitting on the couch watching her son and Pedro.
Little Don, now one and a half, sat on the floor next to Pedro, feeding him crackers, blue eyes wide with wonder. His thick black hair stuck out wildly from under the stocking hat Aiden had put on him.
Aiden grinned and rested her hand on her, again, pregnant stomach.
"Good Pedro." Little Don cooed, "Good Pedro."
Before Aiden could do anything, Little Don fed Pedro a quarter.
Aiden could only gape.
Flack's cell phone rang.
He looked down at the caller ID.
He grimaced, trying to decide whether or not to pick it up.
He loved Aid, he really did, but she was insane when she was pregnant.
"Hey, Aid. What's up?" He asked, hesitantly.
There was a sniffle from the end of the line.
Oh God.
Last time she had called him crying, she had told him she was pregnant again. The time before that he had to swim through a duck pond to get Pedro back.
"What's wrong?" He asked, fighting the urge to hang up.
Stay strong, he told himself.
He stared at the 'end' key as the sniffling continued.
Don't do it, man, he urged himself.
"Aid?" He asked again.
"He-he ate a…." And then broke off crying
"Who ate what?" He asked, feeling slightly idiotic.
"Pedro ate a quarter!" She said; voice a couple octaves higher than usual.
"What made him do that?" He asked, wondering what could have possibly possessed that stupid animal to eat a quarter.
"Your son FED IT TO HIM, DONALD!"
He grimaced.
"Why is he only my son when he does something bad?" He asked, packing his stuff up. "From what I remember, which is a lot; you had something to do with his conceiving."
"Whatever, Don. Are you coming or not?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in ten."
Don took the stairs, trying to prolong the freedom before he would either have to wrench the quarter out of Pedro's throat, or drive Pedro to the vet.
He pushed open the door to their apartment.
Aiden was squatting on the floor, petting Pedro.
Don was surprised she could do that. She was six months along, and her stomach was rather large.
"It's ok, Pedro." She cooed. "It's ok." Her voice was thick with tears.
Pedro was stumbling around in tiny circles, making gagging sounds, like he was trying to expel the quarter out his mouth.
Little Don was sitting in his playpen, eyes huge, watching his mother and the family pet.
He turned when Don shut the door.
"Dadda." He said immediately, holding his arms up for Don to pick him up, lip quivering.
He looked so much like Aiden when he did that.
It was the huge mouth.
Flack picked him up out of the playpen, holding him on his hip.
"Ok, let's go." He said, grabbing Aiden's hand and helping her up.
She grabbed a towel and wrapped Pedro in it, following Don and Little Don out the door.
They pulled up at the Veterinarian's office.
"Poor Pedro." Aiden said, petting the duck.
She suddenly burst into tears.
Flack stood by the door, unbuckling Don from his car seat, shaking his head and contemplating how nuts his life was.
Her wails increased until he was sure all of New York could hear her.
God, this was embarrassing.
People walking by were actually turning to look at the pregnant nut with her insensitive husband and her half dead duck.
"Scary mommy." Little Don stated, wiping his nose with his sleeve.
"Don't do that." Flack said, pulling Little Don's sleeve away from his nose. "That's gross."
"Come on, Aid." He said, hustling her inside, wrapping his arm around her waist, carrying Little Don in his other arm.
He walked up to the reception desk, pulling Aiden with him.
"Hi." He said to the nurse "My duck ate a quarter."
"Take a seat." The nurse said in a mechanic voice. "A doctor will be with you shortly."
Flack steered everyone over to a bench.
He sat down beside Aiden and plopped Little Don down on his lap.
"Poor Pedro." Little Don said, mimicking Aiden. "Poor Pedro."
Now Aiden and Little Don were cooing to Pedro and petting him.
Flack sighed and looked around disinterestedly.
There was an old lady with bright orange hair and a poodle that looked older than she was.
A construction worker and an enormous gray cat.
A mom with three kids and a golden retriever, looking slightly harassed. Her youngest kid, maybe a couple months old, had green snot running down his face.
Don screwed up his face in disgust.
Why didn't the mother wipe her kids' face, already?
After a couple minutes, Flack was ready to check in to an asylum.
Little Don kept making sniffling sounds and cooing to Pedro, as did Aiden.
There was more snot working its way down the baby's face.
There was a tug on Don's sleeve.
He looked down.
There was a kid who was probably about five. He had messy brown hair and a nose that turned up at the end.
"Are you a police officer?" He asked, staring at Flack's gun and badge.
"Yes." He said, shuffling his feet and forcing himself to be nice.
"Is that your crime-fighting duck?"
"What?"
"Is that your crime fighting duck?" The boy asked slowly, as if Flack was a half wit.
"No, that's not my crime-fighting duck." Flack said in an are-you-stupid voice.
"Oh. Ok." The boy went back and sat with his mom and the snotty baby.
Flack sighed.
He felt slightly bad for being so mean, but he'd had a bad day.
And it was only getting worse.
Two hours and a quarter later, Flack laid Little Don down in his crib and stumbled into his and Aiden's room, exhausted.
He fell face down on the bed.
He felt Aiden crawl in next to him.
She kissed the back of his head.
"I love you." She whispered.
"Love you too." He mumbled into the pillow, already half asleep.
A/N: Poor Flack. :) He's such a stand-up guy, though.