A/N: because I love Vallie ridiculous amounts. Based off this absolutely adorable picture that I found on facebook but cannot link you to because ff does not like links anywhere. BOO YOU, WHORE.
Disclaimer: Marlowe is not 8000 behind on NaNo right now.
Kate had rolled her eyes at him when he'd suggested it. In fact she'd rolled her eyes, turned on her heel and left him chuckling to himself in the middle of the costume aisle. That didn't stop him returning a couple of days later and purchasing two dinosaur costumes. The pugs had long since taken to chewing on whatever costumes he puts them in and Kate has insisted on numerous occasions to leave them be so he has. Instead, Mary and James have become his victims. Which is why, when Kate walked through the door one Halloween evening, Mary is hanging onto his neck growling while James – standing on the coffee table – is flying Castle's toy helicopter around their heads.
The office door is open and he can hear the sounds of both Mary and James running around the other room. He doesn't know what they're doing, probably chasing the pugs around and pretending to eat them, judging by the sounds of paws on the hardwood floor. But that's okay, they know the consequences if they get too lively and start bouncing and breaking and wreaking mayhem. It's not until he leans backwards in his chair, the first chapter of the yet to be named book fully written and edited and finally finished, does something rawr in his ear. He jumps, his head spinning so quickly it jars and he massages it ruefully as the largest of the two dinosaurs makes her escape.
Hm.
Well, two can play at that game.
He crouches just inside his office door, the remote control in his grasp and the helicopter already underneath the coffee table. Latte has taken it upon herself to guard it, is lying under the table looking at him, head tilted to the side. Or maybe she's just confused, wondering what the hell her family is playing at. He'd rather pretend she's a monstrous guard dog of a pug, tasked with defending the world from the invasion of the dinosaurs. He waits until they're out of sight behind the sofa before letting the helicopter hover slightly off the ground. Everything's silent – bar the humming of the helicopter and the occasional growl (dog or dinosaur he's not quite sure) – and flies the helicopter up to rest on the top of the sofa.
"This is the head of the Pug Protection Society, I must insist that you put down your teeth and step away from the dogs." He calls out, inching his way across the floor until he's got his back against the side of the sofa.
He hears the hushed whispers of Mary and James, a battle plan forming between them and he uses his fingers to coax Latte over to him. He's learnt many hand signs spending all of these years with the NYPD but it seems that gesturing to a pug for you to go that way and I'll go this way isn't quite the same. Latte just tilts her head at him again, tail wagging until she bounds around the sofa yapping excitedly. Of course, that led to Mocha and Macchiato into squealing barking little dogs as well and it took that distraction for him to ambushed from behind. He thinks it's Mary around his neck and James has somehow slid over his shoulder and has landed in a mess of purple material in his lap. The remote control falls from his hands and tumbles across the floor. James kicks his legs, causing Castle to wince – oh so close to the family jewels – and then the remote is in his six year old fingers. It makes him laugh that James is far better at flying his toy helicopter than he is and soon has it back up from where it had toppled off the sofa.
Latte, Mocha and Macchiato are all in a tumbled mess across his legs and Mary is laughing gleefully in his ear. A laughing dinosaur. That's a first. He stands up soon enough – surprised at his own athleticism – to do it with a ten year old on his neck at his age. Suppose that's what having three dogs and two young kids would do to you. Didn't hurt chasing after all those bad guys though.
"I am Godzilla!" Mary growls in his ear, kicking her legs against his back.
The helicopter whizzes inches from his ear, the sounds of gunfire (or a six year olds version of gunfire at any rate) following steadily in its wake.
"And you're the Empire State Building!" Mary's continuing, clinging on for dear life as he spins around in a circle, her legs flying out behind her.
He sighs. He thought he'd brought his kids up better than this. Godzilla never climbed the Empire State. "You mean King Kong, Mary."
"Buildings don't talk. Dad."