AN: Well, guess what? I'm not dead! I'm sorry for the long wait, but school kinda got me carried away to shun social life. Anyway, here you go.

Disclaimer: I do not own Flashpoint or any of its characters.

Clark comes home with busted lip

Ed knew that he had to do something. Wordy was right; he couldn't stand around and be a bystander. But neither did he want to go off and leave Clark thinking that Ed didn't think he could defend himself.

He was dribbling around Clark, trying to make a clear shot to the basketball hoop in the driveway. Clark stole it away from him, completing a lay-up that had Ed shaking his head in pride.

"So," he started. Clark raised an eyebrow at him, inviting him to go further. "Wanna tell me what happened to that lip of yours?"

Ed watched as Clark's entire countenance shut down. He refused to look his dad in the eyes, instead opting to shot a three-pointer. "Not really."

"Clark, I just want to know what's going on."

"You mean you want to know so that you can yell at me properly," Clark said bitterly.

Ed stole the ball, stopping the game briefly. "I'm not going to yell at you, buddy. I'm just worried about you, is all." Clark still refused to look at him. "All right," Ed decided. "Tell you what. Quick game, one-on-one. First one to five wins. If I win, you tell me what happened to you."

"And if I win?" Clark asked suspiciously, but eyes brightening slightly at the thought of the proper game.

Ed looked him in the eye. "I never bother you about this again."

Clark didn't even hesitate. "Deal."

With that, he stole the ball back from his dad and quickly went around him, scoring the first point. "Come on, old man," Clark said tauntingly. "Only four more to go."

Ed grinned and accepted the ball, scoring the next point easily.

The game after that took far longer than either had anticipated. Thirty minutes later it was getting extremely dark out, and Sophie had called in a warning that she wanted Clark to finish his math homework before too long. It was tied at four apiece, and Ed currently had the ball.

He was just about to score when the ball was blocked by a truly impressive jump Clark had made, and his son dribbled around Ed tauntingly in a circle before effortlessly sending the ball to sail through the net.

Ed couldn't even pretend he was upset about losing when his son whooped and made victory laps around the driveway. He shook his head, grabbing the ball and prepared to go inside.

"All right, all right," he chuckled. "You make your point. Let's go inside before your mom kills me because you haven't finished your homework yet."

Clark fell into step beside him, and right before they reached the door, he stopped, making Ed look over at him. "No more asking about my lip?"

"A deal's a deal," Ed affirmed. "No more asking."

Still Clark hesitated. "Clark?"

He let out a breath. "A bully cornered me in the gym locker room, was making fun of me for playing the cello. He punched me and hit my lip." Ed was getting angry until Clark finished the story. "I don't think he was expecting me to hit him back."

"Wait…what?"

Clark grinned up at him. "I did pay attention to those self-defense moves you taught me, you know. I got a busted lip, he got a bloody nose. I think we pretty much agreed to leave each other alone from now on."

Ed stared at him before he started chuckling and then laughing. "Nice job, buddy. Nice job."

"You're not mad?" Clark asked hopefully.

"Why would I be mad?" Ed countered. "You stood up for yourself, and you protected yourself. I don't have any reason to be mad at you. I'm proud of you."

Clark smiled then, leaning over to give his dad a hug. "Thanks."

"You're my son, Clark. I'll always be proud of you."

FPFPFPFPFPFPFP

Wordy watching movies with his girls

After he greeted Shelley, Wordy contented himself with settling down with a movie for the night. His girls were all ready for bed, teeth brushed and tucked in. Soon it was just he and his beloved, amazing wife.

"Hard call?" she asked quietly. He hadn't spoken of work at all tonight.

He pulled her closer on the couch, resting his head atop hers. "Brought up some bad memories. Memories of me being helpless."

She let him hold her, drawing comfort from him as he held her. She didn't have to think hard to understand what he was talking about. There weren't many times when he confessed feeling helpless to her, and one time in particular was always at the top of the list. She didn't ask him to tell her about the call; she had a feeling that neither one of them would like what he had to say.

Instead, she pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. He knew that look and debated between groaning and smiling. "Shelley…"

"Kevin…" she said back in the same voice. "You'll love it, I promise."

He shook his head, grinning. "Let me go get changed."

When he got back, ready for the night in sweatpants and a bag of goldfish at his side. He settled on the couch next to the love of his life. "What are we watching?"

She grinned happily. "The Princess Bride." He raised an eyebrow, and her voice turned pleading. "C'mon Kevin," she pushed. "It's a classic. You'll love it, I promise."

He kissed her and leaned back against the couch, pulling Shelley against him. "I never said I wouldn't watch it. Play away, Shell. I'm yours."

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