Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.
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Mark opened the Shepherds' kitchen cupboard, taking a moment to vigilantly scan the shelves for (heaven forbid) more hidden contraceptives. When he was completely sure that it contained only food, he glanced over his shoulder at Garrett and Kailey. A small smile crept across his face as he saw them sitting at the table, totally engrossed in their coloring books and crayons. They wore adorable expressions of utmost concentration as they colored; tongues poking out of their mouths and brows furrowed intensely as their crayons scribbled across the paper.
For a while he had sat and watched them, fascinated. Their advanced dexterity made it obvious that they were the offspring of two incredible surgeons. Garrett's broad strokes of color were already within the lines, and Kailey's were well on their way there. It wasn't only their coordination that almost made him crack up; it was the way they asked for different colors. Eyes never leaving their masterpieces-in-the-making, they would extend the used crayon to Mark, saying only the name of the color they wanted next.
"Black."
"Orange."
"Silver."
Mark wondered whether it was in the DNA to ask for different crayons like surgical instruments, or if it was learned from their parents. Maybe it was how Meredith and Derek requested things from each other around the house, while cooking or something. Mark's mind had gone blank as he continued to watch Garrett and Kailey work.
Kailey set down her crayon and looked up at Mark, pouting thoughtfully, blue eyes glinting. "Uncle Mark, I'm hungry," she whined. Garrett glanced at him as well, nodding in agreement.
"Okay, guys, we'll get dinner started," Mark said, fingering the loose knob of the pantry door. Kailey smiled before returning to her lovely picture of a dog which was, inexplicably, green.
Mark studied the cabinet's contents. SpaghettiO's. Mark raised an eyebrow, picturing the kids being covered in splotches of bright red sauce. Not a good idea, it entailed too much changing clothes and wiping off. Besides, he would end up eating whatever the kids were, and he wasn't the biggest fan.
Muesli. Mark gagged, sticking out his tongue. Obviously Derek's. He narrowed his eyes and bent over to browse a lower shelf. What else was in there?
A few cans of tuna. After a moment of silent consideration, Mark shook his head. The most he could do with tuna was open the can and slap it, plain, between two slices of bread. The kids wouldn't appreciate that. Even though their mother had very limited culinary talent, Derek could fake his way around a kitchen and make a decent meal. Garrett and Kailey probably had grown accustomed to his cooking. A plain tuna sandwich would not appease them, Mark decided.
A jar of peanut butter. Mark nodded. There was probably some jelly in the refrigerator. Peanut butter and jelly: foolproof and delicious. So simple even he could make it without massacring it. "You guys want peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?" he offered hopefully.
Garrett made a face. "We had them for lunch," he stated flatly, knotting his dark eyebrows. Mark grimaced. Of course, a Meredith meal. With a discouraged sigh, he turned back to the cabinet.
It was then that the obvious solution caught his eye, the distinguishable blue box grabbing his attention. He smirked in success; he had found the answer, the holy grail of kid-friendly food. Macaroni and cheese. Easy to prepare, and he would enjoy eating it as much as the kids. He suggested it.
"How about mac and cheese?"
Garrett and Kailey stopped coloring and glanced at each other. Then, they both looked at Mark, unimpressed, and back at one another conspiratorially. After a second, with no exchange of words, the boy addressed Mark. Nose in the air, he said in a voice that had it not been so young could have been described as pompous, "We want SpaghettiO's."
Mark blinked. He could see it already, the mess, all over the kitchen. "There aren't any in there," he lied, gesturing to the cabinet with a shrug.
Kailey shook her little head, dark blonde hair dancing across her face. "Yes there are," she challenged.
"No, there aren't."
"Yes there are," she sing-songed, pursing her lips, frustrated because Mark just wasn't getting it. "Mommy bought them at the store. Today." She nodded. "We were there," she added for effect, shoving her tongue out at him.
Mark fought back another sigh, scratching at the back of his neck. "Come on, guys…" he began, voice trailing off at the end, hoping it didn't sound too much like a plea.
"We want SpaghettiO's!" Garrett cried abruptly, his voice hardening into something defiant and harsh. Mark winced. The boy repeated himself twice before Kailey joined in.
Their rhythmic chant of "we want SpaghettiO's" reverberated loudly through the kitchen, bouncing off the walls, accented by the pounding of four petite crayoned fists against the tabletop.
Mark felt helplessness and panic prickling at the back of his neck. He was backed into a corner one again. The Shepherds glared at him, halting their mantra to wait for some sort of reaction from him. He wondered how Lexie would respond to this situation. Somehow, she would have her niece and nephew quiet and eating macaroni and cheese in an instant. It was like she knew exactly what to say to kids and how to say it to make them do exactly what she wanted them to do.
She was wonderful with kids. Mark, though, still hadn't found this talent.
"Fine," he finally gave in with a drawn-out breath. "Spaghetti O's it is." He reached for the shelf and pulled down two cans, knowing immediately that he would regret this very soon.
Garrett and Kailey grinned at each other, satisfied and smug. Then, they immersed themselves in the world of green dogs and bright colors again.
Grumbling to himself, Mark opened the first can and dumped its contents into a bowl, recoiling at the fact that the pasta had taken the shape of the can. He smashed it down with a fork and manned the microwave. Behind him, the kids were humming a song he didn't recognize. After the first batch of SpaghettiO's were heated up and ready to eat, he removed the bowl from the microwave and began preparing the second.
Suddenly, he heard a gasp from behind him. "Uncle Mark!" Mark heard Kailey screech. Startled, he jumped and turned, terrified that something horrible had happened to her.
But he turned too quickly and the bowl flew from his hands and fell on the floor in front of his feet. "Shit!" he exclaimed, scooting backward in the nick of time to avoid the splatter, bright red sauce and ringlet noodles flying everywhere as they hit the linoleum. The spillage didn't register, however, for he was too preoccupied with whatever happened to her. "What, Kailey?!" he asked urgently, blue eyes wide with apprehension.
Kailey and her brother looked down at the SpaghettiO-covered floor. "What?" he asked again, swallowing hard.
"I just wanted to show you my picture," Kailey half-whispered, averting her gaze, holding up the paper with the grass-colored canine. "It's finished."
Mark allowed his head to tip back, forcing himself to breathe deeply. "It's beautiful," he stated in a hoarse voice, rubbing his face with one hand as he leaned back against the counter. Then, he reached for a towel and, bending over slowly and stiffly, began mopping the food up from the floor.
Kailey giggled, then, a light sound that would have been adorable under any other circumstance. Mark ignored it, focusing on the SpaghettiO cleanup. The noise came again, followed by a loud snort from Garrett.
"Shit," whispered Garrett before they erupted into laughter, muted by hands clamped to their lips.
"Shit," Kailey piped up in a gleeful voice. Mark's ears perked up before he felt the color drain from his face. Great. Now they had picked up on his language. A single slip and they were all over it.
"Shit shit shit, shit-shit," Garrett sang in an upbeat tone, smiling proudly, swaying back and forth in his seat. Kailey loved it, laughing from her belly. Mark stood and did his best to take an assertive stance.
"Stop saying that," he demanded, pointing at them. The Shepherds bit their lips to avoid cackling.
"Shit," the boy murmured from the corner of his mouth, blue eyes glowing. Mark glowered at him.
"If you say it again-" He stopped in mid-sentence, mouth hanging open, honestly having no clue what he would do if either uttered the expletive again. He finally settled on, "Then you'll be sorry."
"We'll stop," Garrett said, looking up at the ceiling, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "if you give us each another cookie." Kailey smirked, squinting her eyes at Mark.
"No. No way," he told them, shaking his head, steadfast. Garrett raised both eyebrows. "I'm not going to give in this time." The boy shrugged and took a long, deep breath.
But all he could get out was, "Sh-" before Mark interrupted him with a rapid, stumbling phrase.
"You can have cookies only if you promise not to tell your Mommy and Daddy that you heard that word from me." Mark cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. He couldn't believe how submissive the Shepherds had already made him.
"We promise," they answered. That compromise was good enough for them. Besides, they were getting cookies out of the deal.
Sighing for the millionth time, Mark reached for the cookie jar again. This time, the kids wanted oatmeal raisin. He gave one to each.
They happily ate their cookies and did not speak the naughty word for the rest of the night.
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Mark set down a bowl of SpaghettiO's in front of each child before plopping heavily into a chair on the other side of the table, poking at his own portion with a spoon. Garrett and Kailey inhaled the lovely aroma of the pasta before digging in, shoveling spoonfuls into their mouths like it was going out of style. For a few good minutes, the only noise in the kitchen was the children scarfing down their food.
Mark watched them briefly before scooping some onto his own spoon and raising it to his lips. As he tasted the SpaghettiO's, he was pleasantly surprised. They weren't as bad as they seemed. He ate another mouthful, and then another. When his third was in his mouth, Kailey glanced at him inquisitively.
"Uncle Mark?"
"Yes?" he answered cheerfully, mouth full.
"Where do babies come from? Mommy wouldn't tell me today."
Mark choked.
Coughing violently, he reached for the glass of water in front of him. After he swallowed some and was able to breathe, he raised his eyebrows at Kailey in utter disbelief. "What?"
Garrett clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Come on, Kailey," he said. "Babies come from the stork. You know, he brings them to the parents." His little sister listened, enthralled. He looked at Mark, eyes locking. "I know it's true, my dad said," he told both of them, nodding slowly; he stressed the end to imply that Derek's word was supreme. Kailey returned to her food, easily convinced.
Relieved, Mark couldn't help but laugh hysterically, laying down his spoon and resting his forehead in his hands. The kids looked at him like he was crazy.
They finished their meal. Miraculously, not a drop of sauce got on their clothes.
Ironically enough, Mark's was the only spill during dinnertime.
