Please do review! I love reading your thoughts. And without further ado, here's the next installment.

Chapter 11: Teenagers at the Mall

Fred ended up winning when the hour was up and they took the backpack with the rest of their purchases to the front, where they got into line behind a pair of teenagers. They were a pair of adolescent males, one with bright red hair and the other, in the lead, with black hair streaked with red highlights. They were dressed shabbily with their pants riding low enough that the Spartans – and everyone else - could see their checkered boxers quite clearly. They wore their hats indoors, too, and something about the way they eyeballed several of the young women walking into the store or by the glass front told John that they could cause trouble.

The two teenagers set down their own purchases on the belt – a replica UNSC battle rifle, heavily modified, several boxes of paintballs, and body armor for each of them. The young lady – likely no more than twenty– noted their intended purchase and asked with a bright smile, "Looks like you're planning on some fun. I'll need to see some ID to purchase the paintball gear, though."

"We're over eighteen," the lead boy scoffed. "You don't need my ID."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I do," the young woman insisted, still smiling.

"I don't have it with me. You'll just have to take my word." The first boy spoke with a lazy drawl while the second couldn't seem to stop twitching.

"Well, perhaps you can go get it. I can hold-"

"No, bitch!" the second interrupted at the top of his lungs. The woman started backwards as the angry red-head raised a fist threateningly. "Just sell us the fucking stuff!"

John, being closest, grabbed the boy's fist and forced his arm down before the teenager could do anything. With the cramped aisle between the conveyor belt and stands of candy and small toys hemming them in, John's siblings couldn't get involved, but Fred, at the back, quickly headed around the next aisle and blocked the first boy from bolting.

"Hey, fuck off!" the red-head yelled, trying to struggle free. Without releasing the teenager, John put his basket down and secured the kid's other hand, bringing both behind the boy's back and pulling down until the teenager had to surrender or risk dislocating his shoulders.

John and Fred moved the two teenagers out of the cramped aisle despite their shrieked protests. People were staring at the commotion as the Spartan males waited calmly for their captives to quiet down.

An overweight security guard scootered into the store on a personal mobility device; he turned an angry red when he saw the two teenagers and stomped over, hitching up his belt. "Well, well, well, that's three times today I've been called over for a disturbance by you two!" he told the boys.

John and Fred released their prisoners but stood between them and the exit. The black-haired teenager glared defiantly at the guard when he was released; the red-haired one, however, reached for his back. Both John and Fred felt that niggling instinct that told them to act, so act they did – John went for the red-head while Fred took the black-haired kid out.

One knee on the red-head's back, John quickly pulled the kid's target from the back of his pants – a standard-issue police pistol. At the sight of it, the guard turned white, as did the cashier and an older woman with "Owner" written on her shirt who had come running up at the commotion. John calmly removed the magazine, ejected the casing – the idiot had had it loaded in his pants – and handed the gun to Kelly. She stripped it ruthlessly within five seconds, damaging key components beyond repair.

"Crappy build, but it's got police-grade ammo," Linda muttered, picking up the magazine and examining it. "Makes me wonder where a piece of shit like him got it."

The red head struggled to breathe and John eased up just enough for him to fill his lungs before pressing back down. "Do tell," he growled at the boy.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, what are you?! I have rights! Get off me!"

"We're Spartans, kid," Fred told him angrily, heaving the black-haired teenager to his feet and thoroughly patting him down. "Now answer the LT's question."

"Number's been sanded off," Kelly commented. "But there are initials – J. P. I think I'll find the local police force and see who's gun's gone missing recently. Guard, I suppose you have protocols for this?"

"I'm J.P., you stupid bitch!" the red-head screamed angrily before the stammering guard could speak. "Gimme back my gun, dyke!"

John pressed down again and the teenager wheezed. The black-haired kid glared sullenly at them all, crossing his arms. Fred relieved the guard of his handcuffs and snapped them around the kid's wrists quickly, tossing a pair of zip-ties to John as well. John quickly bound his captive's hands behind the boy's back and hauled him to his feet, not particularly gentle about it.

"You'll pay for this, you fuckers!" the red-head yelled, struggling against the zip-ties. "That's my gun, give it back! I'll sue you all!"

"Look, kid. You're going to jail, you're not getting this back – and it wouldn't work anyway, I've seen to that – and you can't sue us for defense. Shut up before John puts you out," Kelly hissed.

"Fuckin' cow! Rabid bitch!" The boy was practically foaming at the mouth; the four Spartans – and several others in the store and within hearing range - stared at him.

Linda shook her head and grabbed Kelly's shoulder as the other woman made for the loudmouth boy. "It's not worth it," she muttered lowly.

"Yeah, Tiny Tits, tell your fuckin' fag to back off!"

Both Kelly and Linda growled angrily and John, for the boy's own safety, slapped a hand over the teenager's mouth. After a few muffled screams of anger, the boy tried biting him; John grimaced in disgust and turned to the bodyguard.

"You've called the police, I assume?" he asked quietly.

"Uh… No… Didn't… Have time… Do that now… Yeah." The man walked slowly back towards his cart, looking back at the four Spartans fearfully, and radioed into his commander. Within moments – with the red-head still doing his best to chew through John's hand with no luck – five more white-uniformed guards showed up.

"We'll take it from here, folks," the leader said, glaring at the Spartans, the first security guard, and finally at the boys. John released the red-head and Kelly silently handed him a towel from the cashier's station to wipe his hand off with. The boy had left teeth marks after all.

"You fuckers are insane!" the teenager screamed angrily as another security guard grabbed the boy's shoulder and led towards the exit. The black-haired teen was similarly led but he was silently sullen. The first security guard gathered up the piece of the dismantled gun, Linda handed him the magazine, and then he scuttled after his friends.

"Now, look, you four," the head security guard snarled at John and his siblings, "I don't need any more disturbances today!"

John raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Sir, did you miss the pistol? The red-head was armed and threatened the cashier."

"Bullshit. I know you Spartans – you're programmed to make messes wherever you go. Get the hell out of my mall!"

"It's true!" the cashier piped up as the four Spartans traded glances. They turned to her; she was white and shaking, but absolutely adamant. The owner, standing behind her, looked worried and confused. "They – the boys, that is – were trying to buy paintball gear, Mrs. Vickers." The cashier turned to the owner to explain. "I asked for ID and the red-haired one just went ballistic. He was going to hit me, I know it! But they," she nodded to John and his siblings, "intervened and saved me. And then the red-head went for a gun-"

"Or one of you planted it on him," the guard, Mr. Vickers, growled. "You're going to need to come with me."

"Sir, no, we don't. We aren't pressing charges. But if you would like to, ladies," John said, turning to the cashier and owner both, "we will be more than happy to provide witness accounts. As you may know," he turned back to the guard, "Spartan memory recall is nearly perfect even in battle and admissible in a legal court as full physical evidence – as are the bite marks on my hand. Further, we were acting in defense of others, which is not only our duty as soldiers and Spartans but also a standing order. So if you would like to take issue with our actions today, I suggest you call NavSpecWep and ask for Rear Admiral Jacobsen. I'm sure he'd tell you exactly what you can expect if you try to charge us with – well, anything."

The guard turned increasingly red in anger as John spoke. "You're coming with me if I have to handcuff you!" he said furiously.

"Sir, threatening a Spartan is not a wise way to end your career," John said lowly, frowning. "Not to mention, you don't have handcuffs we can't break."

"You-"

"What in the hell is going on here?!" The voice was authoritative, angry, and female; John glanced over to see a middle-aged woman dressed in the deep blues of police uniform advancing on the group. "I just got some dumbass calling in a robbery by a group of Spartans?"

Kelly, Linda, Fred, and John simultaneously palmed their faces, which would have been comical if not for the situation. The owner, despite herself, giggled and quickly covered her mouth.

"Robbing us?!" the cashier shrieked, shaking her head at the idiocy in front of her. "Ma'am, they were saving us from being robbed!" She quickly explained what had happened. The woman in blue grunted.

"Well, that makes a hell of a lot more sense than some crackpot tell me Spartans were robbin' the joint. What're you still doing here?" she snapped at the security guard. "Get back on your duties; I've got this."

"Ma'am-"

"It's Sergeant McKenzie, guard, and I said I've got this." She glared until the man huffed angrily and left, muttering to himself all the while and glaring over his shoulder. McKenzie turned to the four Spartans, who eyed her warily. They had had more than enough of pushy authority figures today.

"Sorry about that," she said, smiling and offering her hand. "One of you's Kelly - I'm guessing not you." She grinned at John, who shook her hand carefully. "My hubby's on your base," she said by way of explanation. Kelly nodded and shook the woman's hand next.

"McKenzie – good guy. He's mentioned you a couple times."

"Now I know why it was in a whisper," Fred chuckled, shaking the woman's hand as well.

"Wish we'd met under better circumstances," Linda added quietly as she shook McKenzie's hand.

The woman grinned saucily. "Aye, I'm not scared o' throwin' my weight 'round, that's how I got here in the first place. Now, I see yer shoppin', so let's make this quick so's I can get back to my donuts." She slapped her ample – yet not overweight – belly. "I'll need names, contact info, and your statements, one at a time."

The woman's friendly but business-like briskness relaxed the four Spartans; Kelly went back to the cashier and calmed the young woman down with the help of the owner as John, Fred, and Linda gave their – very short – statements. McKenzie took pictures of the bite marks on John's hand, just in case the boys did try to spin the story their way. With Kelly's support, the cashier also gave the story from her point of view, and then Kelly gave her own statement – mostly involving the gun's make, model, and sanded-off ID number – and the Sergeant tipped her hat to all of them, promising to return for the security footage.

"That was really brave," the cashier – her name was Julie, she'd told Kelly – gushed when the four finally got back to their dropped baskets and loaded them onto the conveyor.

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah," he disagreed. "What any good citizen would do."

"No," Julie argued. "Most would have just pretended it wasn't happening. 'Specially after that red-head started getting so angry. Bet he was on drugs."

All four Spartans frowned. It went against their very nature to allow that to happen anywhere near them; how could someone ignore it, even – by ignoring it – encourage such behavior? "Are you going to be okay?" Kelly asked the cashier.

"Oh, yeah," she said, nodding bravely. "Not the first time I've been harassed, but it did have the happiest ending." She smiled shyly at Fred, who grinned easily back – though Linda's eyes narrowed and Kelly nudged her sister warningly.

"Do you have a notepad?" John asked. The cashier nodded and handed him a small pad of paper and a pen; John quickly jotted down the base number and then his cell number. It was Linda's turn to nudge Kelly. "If you need our statements again, give us a call." He handed the notepad back to the cashier, who took it reverently.

"Thank you," she said again, folding the note carefully into her pocket and shooting Fred another shy smile. The Spartan missed it, however, as he was bagging their purchases. John quickly swiped his card through the machine – the cashier gave them a hefty discount and wished she could do more, though they assured her that it wasn't necessary – and they headed out.

"Okay, I'm done," Kelly growled when they were safely out of earshot of anyone in the parking lot. "Let's go home. Screw malls. I'm never coming back." Linda nodded in agreement. The two males could tell that the red-head had hurt both of their sisters with the cursing, especially the comment about Linda's chest. She was, despite their lack of attachment to physical beauty, somewhat unhappy that that had been the thing the boy had picked on.

Kelly and John climbed into the front seats with John driving – he didn't want Kelly's anger translating into her driving – after they loaded up the back. Fred and Linda crawled into the back bench seats and buckled in; then Fred slung an arm around Linda's shoulders and murmured quietly into her ear, comforting her.

"How's your hand?" Kelly asked John when they'd gotten out of the parking lot. He held it up; just a few angry red marks left.

"Not bad," he replied, shrugging. Kelly grunted and crossed her arms, glaring daggers through the windshield. "How're you holding up?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound like it."

"We'll talk about it later. I just want to get home – and beat on something."

John nodded in understanding. The rest of the drive was quiet as they headed for the base; once there, Kelly sent Linda and Fred inside – supposedly to make lunch but in reality so they could have a few minutes alone – while she and John unpacked the car, stacking their purchases on the porch.

Then they took the van back to the garage, checked it back in, and walked slowly back towards the house in companionable but brooding silence. By the time they got to the house, Linda and Fred had taken the bags inside and started on a late dinner.

Kelly and John unpacked the items and separated them into piles – Jonathan's, Lucy's, Kade's, and the Spartans' stuff – and then also unpacked the wrapping paper, scissors, tape, and To/From stickers Fred and Linda had also picked up with the camera.

The four ate dinner; Linda was back in a good mood and together, the three managed to bring Kelly out of her funk at least enough so that when they gathered in the living room to wrap the presents, she stole the remote from John and put on a comedic television show instead of the news.

Linda had chosen four different types of wrapping paper; she and Kelly cut pieces to fit the presents while John wrapped them carefully and Fred addressed each one to its intended recipient. Working together, it hardly took an hour to get everything bundled up nicely; then they packed the gifts into a large rolling suitcase, putting the more fragile model plane kits on the inside and the stuffed animals along the outside to pad the interior.

"For our second rodeo, not bad," Kelly remarked as she zipped up the bag.

"Definitely better than last time," Fred chuckled.

Kelly coughed in agreement and embarrassment. "Let's just pretend that never happened," she suggested.

"Wish I could," Linda grumbled, fingering her hair.

"Let's head to bed. We've got an early morning – and a big day – tomorrow," John suggested, standing. His siblings nodded. Before they disappeared into their rooms, however, they did bring their duffels down into the living room, observing the pile of luggage for a moment.

"Either we pack light or we're forgetting things," Fred said, looking at the suitcase filled with presents for the children – and a few for Terry and Wendy – dwarfing the Spartan's four duffels.

"Well, we don't carry around hair dryers, makeup bags, thirty pairs of shoes, or different sets of clothing for every hour of the day," Linda pointed out, grinning.

John nodded in agreement. "We should probably bring something to keep ourselves occupied on the ride," he suggested. "Terry's yacht doesn't have cryosleep – not that he'd let us get frozen – and the kids will be continuing their studies en route, so we'll have to find some way to entertain ourselves. And not with constant sparring," he added when Kelly scoffed.

"Alright," Fred agreed. "I'll bring my tablet." He trotted back upstairs.

"Grab ours, too!" Linda yelled after him. "And bring that crossword puzzle I'm working on."

"Yes, ma'am," Fred chuckled from upstairs.

"Crossword puzzle?" Kelly asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a fun mind game. You have to attach words to clues and then write them in."

"I know what it is. I didn't think you liked them. I always pictured you as more of a, hm, Sudoku person."

"Those are fun, too, but I like learning new words. Speaking of which…" She turned back upstairs. "And don't forget my dictionary!" she called to Fred.

"I got it," Fred called back. He came down with the Spartans' four tablets and Linda's physical books – she preferred feeling paper when she worked on something like a crossword, apparently – in his arms. They packed the tablets in with the presents, to cushion them.

"And the last surprise of the night," Kelly announced, pulling out the gaming system she'd hid while they were wrapping presents, "is this." She tossed the game to Linda, who read the description with a raised eyebrow.

"Seriously? Video games? What are you, twelve?" Linda chuckled.

"I think it'll be fun," Kelly replied, packing the game system in her duffle. She commandeered part of John's duffle for the controllers. "Besides, you don't have to play if you don't want to."

"No, I think I will. If they have a decent sniper rifle, at least."

"First person shooter?" Fred asked, reading the game's description over Linda's shoulder. "I'm fairly sure we've starred in most of the places this game goes through."

"Yep," Kelly replied. "I want to see how they portray things like the Halo world – that's the first map you get, apparently. There's Requiem, too."

John frowned slightly. He didn't particularly want to revisit that planet, game-world or not. Linda shot him an understanding glance and tossed Kelly the game. "Maybe we should check it out," she allowed, "but only if I get really bored."

"You're going to get bored," Kelly promised. "Two weeks, no training or sparring outside of each other? I'm going to sick of listening to John snore inside of three days."

"I don't snore," John retorted.

"Alright, fine. You whistle."

"I do not."

"You do," Fred, Linda, and Kelly all replied simultaneously.

"You whistle and it's adorable," Kelly continued, smirking at John. The large man was feeling a little defensive. He grumbled.

"Time for bed," Linda suggested, already heading upstairs. Fred followed her quickly. Kelly double-checked her packing job and then followed John to their room.

"Excited?" Kelly asked as John closed the door and she turned on a small lamp by her cot so he could turn off the overhead room lights.

John hummed in agreement and stripped of his shirt and pants quickly. Kelly tossed her shirt and pants to him as well; he dropped all of their clothing into the dirty laundry hamper. They slipped into their cots and, as had become their usual sleeping arrangement, Kelly turned her back on John and he pulled her close so that her back was against his chest.

"Did you tell Terry we sleep like this?" Kelly suddenly asked as John adjusted his position so he wasn't breathing in her hair.

"What?" he asked, blinking his eyes open.

"In pairs," Kelly clarified. "He's not quite caught on – no one has. And everyone's used to us sleeping four to a room." She rolled over to face him.

"No," John admitted, smiling sheepishly. "I'll mention it when we get there in the morning. It's a yacht – there's room enough for each of us to have our own room if we really wanted to."

Kelly smirked. "Better you than me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked suspiciously.

"Wendy keeps dropping hints at Linda and I that it's time to "get a move on with life" and that you and Fred are "such handsome fellows" and she's been wanting to be an aunt for years." There was long-standing suffering in Kelly's voice.

"Poor Kelly," John snickered.

"Yeah, well." Kelly smacked him gently. "So don't be surprised if Wendy makes Terry accost you – and Fred – when she finds out we've paired off."

"Why?"

"John, you're adorable. Go to sleep."

"Wait, Kelly-" Kelly rolled over and wiggled into a more comfortable position. John knew the conversation was over and sighed, wrapping an arm around Kelly's torso. He inhaled to tell her good night and had to spit out a mouthful of her blue hair with a grimace.

"Quit eating my hair."

"I'm not trying to." John moved until his chin was resting on the top of Kelly's head. "Better?" he asked.

"Much. Good night."

John returned the sentiment and the pair fell asleep quickly.

~~HALO~~

The alarm buzzed, waking Kelly and John instantly. Kelly shifted and John pulled her closer. "We have five minutes," he muttered, unwilling to get up just yet.

"Yeah, but I kind of want to shower," Kelly replied, trying to pull away. John simply tightened his grip around her midsection, pulling her more firmly into his chest. "John," she chuckled in protest, wiggling in her attempt to get away.

"Shhhh," John growled. "I'll use you as a pillow if you keep struggling."

Kelly sighed. There was no arguing with Morning John; he had made good on his threats in the past. So she simply used her dirtiest trick, wiggling just so against him. John growled again, his voice dropping a few notes and growing husky, but, unwilling to start that again, he lifted his arm to release her.

"You fight dirty," John muttered, rolling – carefully – onto his stomach.

"I fight smart. Just 'cause you can't keep it in your pants…" Kelly grinned and dodged the pillow thrown her way.

"I do keep it in my pants," John retorted, giving up his battle for a few extra minutes of sleep with a heavy sigh.

"That's kind of the problem," Kelly replied, her voice light but hiding – poorly – a hint of exasperation and annoyance under it.

"Kelly…" John didn't want to go into this now. He knew Fred and Linda had started exploring deeper intimacy, but he just wasn't ready for that. And you're scared to do it, admit it, John thought to himself. His previous good mood was ruined; he got out of bed and ignored Kelly's knowing glance.

"You two up?" Fred asked, knocking on the door.

"We're up," Kelly called back. "Get the Pelican warmed up, would you?"

"Linda's already out there."

"My hero." Kelly chuckled, pulling on fresh underwear and then quickly dressing. "Breakfast?"

"Do we have to do everything for you?" Fred retorting, his footsteps walking away.

Kelly muttered something that John couldn't quite make out as he similarly dressed. He led the way downstairs and into the kitchen, where Fred was sitting at the table with a plate of eggs and bacon. Kelly scowled impressively at him.

"There's more on the stove," Fred told her, grinning. "We got up before the alarm so we could get warm food."

"Prick." Kelly headed for the stove and served herself up a plate. John copied her and they sat with Fred at the table to eat. Linda appeared half-way through the meal, serving herself and sitting down with them.

"Pelican's warming up," she said. "It's cold out there."

"We can take the stuff in one trip," John replied, standing to wash his dirty plate and fork. "Who's got the house key?"

"I do," Fred replied, holding up a brightly-colored lanyard with the key on the end. "I'll lock up once we're out. Anyone forget anything?"

"John left his good mood in bed," Kelly joked, smirking at the Spartan.

John simply growled – playfully – at her and accepted Fred's dirty plate and spoon. The Spartan always ate eggs with a spoon, which perplexed his siblings to no end. Linda and Kelly finished quickly and John took their dishes as well. Once they were clean, he set them in the rack to dry and then dried his hands off before joining his siblings in the living room.

Kelly tossed him his shoes and he slipped them on quickly. "I'll get the duffels," Kelly offered, picking up her duffle and slinging it across her shoulder. Then she grabbed John's, being gentle with both of them, and Fred's. Linda took her own with a chuckle. John carried the large suitcase and Fred grabbed their jackets from pegs in the entryway. They gathered outside the front door, which Fred locked quickly.

"Back door's locked?" John asked.

"Locked it on my way out," Linda replied, grinning. Their breath steamed in the frozen morning air. "Let's get into the Pelican before my unmentionables freeze off."

"Wouldn't want that," Fred laughed, offering Linda her coat. She handed him her duffle bag and slipped into her coat with a grin. Fred carried her duffle and the four Spartans headed for the air field.

The Pelican was, indeed, warmed up by the time they got into the cargo bay. John quickly secured the suitcase while Kelly did the same with the four duffle bags. Linda climbed into the cockpit and Fred closed the hatch. They radioed in for clearance and were off.

"If you left something behind," Linda said over the radio cheerfully as the Pelican turned in an easy curve, "it's left behind."

Fred chuckled. "We're used to traveling with nothing," he reminded her.

"Well, yes." They had already sent the armor ahead; it had been packed into the yacht's cargo bay yesterday, along with their repair kits.

"I call shotgun when we get there," Kelly suddenly said over the radio.

"What is shotgun in a ship?" Fred asked, grinning at his sister.

"I dunno. But I call it."

"You're just a child."

"And proud of it."

John leaned against the bulkhead, turning over Kelly's words in his mind from the morning and listening sporadically to Fred and Kelly's playful bickering. He knew Kelly was being more than patient with him, considering how they'd been "together" for almost three months now and had yet to do anything different except the way they slept.

He'd seen Fred and Linda trade small, gentle kisses while in the privacy of their shared home; he knew they did more during the night. Fred wasn't the type to kiss and tell, but Linda was getting fed up with John's reluctance to move forward and, John knew, had sent Fred to talk to him about furthering his relationship with Kelly several times. Sometimes John managed to avoid the discussions. When he was cornered by his well-meaning brother, he agreed to try harder to change, but the truth was, he didn't want to change.

John knew that was Linda and Fred shared was special, just as what he shared with Kelly was special, albeit in a different way. Linda and Fred had a more "usual" relationship, intimate physically and emotionally. John just hoped they were being smart about it; he wasn't sure either one was ready to be a parent, if Spartans could procreate. Their augmentations had included libido suppression, but had more been done to them to ensure they were focused solely on being soldiers? Since Kelly and Linda both suffered through monthly menstruation cycles, he supposed they were probably fertile – but what about him and Fred? It was much easier to unload a gun than to put bullet-proof vests on, after all.

These weren't the kind of thoughts John liked having. He was a simple soldier, or so he liked to think. Kids, families, relationship issues – those were things that he didn't see himself having. He and Kelly had their differences, but they'd been best friends for their whole lives, and he knew Kelly inside and out, just as she knew him. If their relationship turned intimate, it would be secondary to their friendship.

Kelly watched John covertly. He was thinking hard; she could recognize the look on his face, the set of his shoulders. Fred had noted the slight tension between the pair, but was, true to form, ignoring it politely, and she was grateful to him for that. Linda's suggestions – and rants – were well-meant, but Kelly didn't want to push John. John never liked being pushed; he'd set his feet and they'd get nowhere. So gentle – and no-so-gentle – hints were all Kelly let herself make.

Sometimes, Kelly wanted to lock John in a room until he admitted that he was holding himself – and her – back, at least romantically. She didn't want to be swept off her feet outside of a sparring session. But sometimes, she had to admit to herself, she wished that John could take the lead in the relationship. He was the leader in everything else; they all looked to him for decisions that affected them all. But he shied away from making decisions for himself, at least when it came to arenas outside of tactics and soldiering.

Kelly frowned slightly, watching John out of the corner of her eye as she traded quips with Fred. Her mind wasn't really on what her brother was saying, though, and she was losing the verbal spar.

Fred glanced between John and Kelly as he waited for Kelly's retort to his latest playful insult. John was set in his thinking mode, eyes turned inwards. He wouldn't budge from it until he'd come to some sort of conclusion. Kelly, on the other hand, was nearly vibrating with stress and tension, and Fred knew something had happened either last night or this morning to make the paired Spartans snappish.

Fred fancied himself a simple man. Spartan, super-soldier, yes, but still fairly simple; feed him, give him someone to teach – or kill – and he was content. His relationship with Linda was a nice bonus, but both of them were down-to-earth types. They explored because they were curious as to what they had missed out on, being raised since six to become humanity's best warriors. They had deep, meaningful conversations, sometimes about nothing more important than movies they'd seen together. They usually stayed up at least an hour after they had disappeared into their room, talking or just cuddling. Fred would never get tired of cuddling.

Nothing had really changed since they started acknowledging a deeper bond between them. They trained together and with their siblings; they taught soldiers on the base and wherever they were called. No one outside of the foursome knew they had paired off because they were so low-key about it. Linda liked being kissed – but not in public. Neither did Fred, for that matter. The only thing that changed was kept behind closed doors.

But once John and Kelly had mutually agreed to pursue a relationship, something had changed between them. Kelly was trying desperately not to scare John off the trail, and John was acting like a skittish deer, shying forward and back. Fred almost suspected that his brother just wasn't interested, but cautious questions revealed that John wasn't holding out because he was homosexual. He was interested in Kelly; Fred was sharp-eyed enough to see the way John's eyes followed Kelly or how his pupils were dilated after a sparring match between the pair.

Sometimes they made great progress, like when John had curled up with Kelly on the couch and fallen asleep there. Other times, like this morning, he seemed to take three steps back for every one forward, dropping back behind the protective cover of their emotional conditioning. It frustrated Linda to no end.

Fred just wished John would give up his control for a single evening and let Kelly take over. If he didn't like it, Kelly would never force him to do anything. But the only way that would happen would be if John either was knocked out, drunk, or stupid with meds. Fred had seen John truly drugged up once, and never wanted to again; the big man turned into a skittish, timid creature.

But drunk… Fred was fairly sure he could get John a little tipsy. Spartan metabolisms would ensure John wouldn't get into real trouble, but just a little barrier removal would be good for him. This was a vacation, after all, and one thing the Spartans hadn't done was tried the various alcoholic beverages that Wendy and Terry enjoyed in moderation.

Fred made a pact with himself to see if Terry planned to have wine – or better yet, flavored spirits – at the holiday party. John disliked being out of control – in fact, Fred would have said he had a phobia of it – but Fred would make sure John tried at least one drink. Worst case scenario, he wouldn't like it and they'd be right back where they started. But if he did like it, he might let down some of those strict inhibitions that were straining his relationship with Kelly. And from there, it would be up to the pair to figure out how to proceed.