Quickie disclaimer: I don't MK. I do own Lilith, Russell, and Darcy, though. It's not much, but they're still mine. Bwahahaha.
A/N: I tried. I tried very hard to let this fic rest and go to the very special place completed fanfics go, the place that very few of mine will probably ever see. Sadly, Stryker decided to be a brat and demanded another chapter with more of him. I'm such a pushover. And there will be one more chapter after this one, since the first idea that spawned this chapter cannot possibly be put into this one. So, with all that, I've given up on declaring this "the last update" because it's obvious I can't follow through with my puttingmyfootdown-age.
The title also changed because it's obvious "Late Notice" no longer applies to the majority of these chapters. I apologize for any inconveniences.
Eight Months Later
"So what's wrong with me using the term 'dinner date?'" Johnny asked his wife plaintively as he shrugged into a decent shirt. "That's what it is. With more alcohol than dinner, granted, but there's still food involved."
"Because A) you are not a woman, which I am most grateful for," Sonya told him, patting his cheek, "and B) you are not gay, which I am even more grateful for. You can say 'get-together,' you can say 'party.' Hell, you can even say 'tryst,' but if there is a naked woman trying to earn money from you I will kick your ass and make you sleep in the doghouse outside. But 'dinner date' is just a little too gentle for a straight man to use."
Johnny frowned as he watched Sonya finished wiping the bathroom counter dry. "We don't have a doghouse, Sonya, inside or outside."
She turned and glared directly at him. "Completely missing the biggest issue, Johnny."
"Well, obviously I'm not going to be choosing some other woman over you, Sonya," Johnny assured her, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "But the fact still remains: we don't have a doghouse."
"Then I guess you'd be sleeping in the rain. And I'll make sure there's rain before I let you back in the house." Sonya tossed the cloth into the hamper before lifting a brow and regarding her husband. "Speaking of this get-together, why are you having it? You talked to Jax just yesterday and neither you nor Stryker can agree to disagree about sports."
"Baseball's way better than hockey anyhow," Johnny muttered under his breath, but answered Sonya, "Jax and I decided we need to have an intervention for Strike."
Pausing, Sonya frowned at Johnny. She didn't like the sound of that. "What kind of intervention? I didn't realize Stryker had a problem in the first place."
"He's been involved with Darcy for over two years, Sonya. And we didn't even know about that relationship until eight months ago. Jax and I figured it's time he got serious about the relationship, before he loses one of the best things he's ever had."
Most definitely, Sonya had a terrible feeling about this. "Stryker is a grown man, Johnny. He can make his own decisions. Neither you or Jax should be sticking your noses into this."
"Sonya," Johnny said in a long-suffering tone, "trust us. This is for Stryker's own good. We'll nudge him in the right direction, and in a few years he'll be thanking us for kicking his ass into gear. I'll bet you Darcy's been waiting for him to make them official for a while. Just you wait and see, it'll all be good."
"You ready?" Johnny asked Jax as they sat down in the Applebee's booth. They had arrived earlier than the time set, as decided when Stryker confirmed his arrival. They needed time to prepare what they would say to the man dragging his heels in the dirt.
"Yep," Jax checked his watch. "Seven minutes til. Stryker should be here right . . . now."
Sure enough, Stryker stepped through the doors. Jax smirked at Johnny and motioned for something. Rolling his eyes, the actor paid Jax fifty dollars as Stryker found them and sat down.
"What's with the money exchange?" the policeman asked, brows furrowed.
"You're too damn habitual, Stryker," Johnny complained. "Why do you always get to a place seven minutes til the dinner date?"
Stryker and Jax froze, the latter with the beer glass at his lips and Stryker in the middle of settling his napkin on his lap. "Johnny, three things," Stryker told him, patting down the cloth. "One, it's a comfort thing to be early."
"Two," Jax put in, "you aren't a woman, which Sonya is undoubtedly grateful for—"
"And three, you're not gay, which we're grateful for," Stryker finished. "Never use the words 'dinner date' again without using Sonya as the subject."
Johnny stared between his two male friends, then sighed. "Can we just agree that I'm metrosexual and get on with it? Are you guys decided?"
The three men ordered their meals and alcohol, and Johnny had to take a moment to sign a waitress' apron. Then Jax and Johnny focused on their goal.
"So, Kurt, how's Darcy?" Jax broached the subject with his own trademark subtlety.
"Any marriage plans in the works?" Johnny asked, also with his own sense of tact.
Stryker glared, mostly at Johnny, but Jax also was targeted. "Darcy is fine, and we're not even dating. We're just fu—riendly buddies," Stryker changed his adjective hurriedly, eyeing the table behind them with three rambunctious five-year-olds and two very anxious parents. "Marriage is not going to be topic for a good long while, if ever."
"You've been 'friendly' buddies with Darcy for over two years?" Jax raised a brow skeptically. "Most people don't have such long commitments for that kind of thing."
"It's not a commitment," Stryker muttered. "It's a mutually open understanding."
"Oh?" Johnny scoffed. "So, if she were to, say, decide she wanted to be 'buddies' with some other guy, that'd be okay?"
Stryker's hand twitched, caught off-guard by the remark. "Yeah. Of course. Except, y'know, we don't do that. Because that's not really safe."
"But she could," Jax prompted. "And then she might decide she doesn't want to wait around for you."
"Where the hell did waiting come from?" Stryker asked roughly. "We don't 'wait' for each other, we just . . . if we need something we just . . . shut up and drink your damn beers."
"Stryker, look," Johnny bent over, hand hanging from his wrist loosely in the man's direction, "women like men who commit. It's in their blood, practically. Darcy's not going to wait around forever for you to finally take the plunge and marry her."
The proverbial 'deer-caught-in-headlights' look was apparent in Stryker, and he stammered, "But—but Darcy's never—we haven't—"
"Just because she hasn't said anything about wanting to date and marry doesn't mean she doesn't think it, Kurt," Jax advised him sagaciously. "Trust us. She wants to go the whole nine yards. She's waiting on you, though, to see if you'll come through. But like we keep saying, Kurt, she's not going to wait forever. You're going to blink, realize how good you've got it, and she'll be gone."
Some sense appeared to have gotten through to Stryker: fright about losing Darcy was shining through his wide eyes. Exchanging a satisfied glance with Jax, Johnny sat back and enjoyed his chicken-fried steak and continued to teach Stryker in the error of his ways.
Sonya had not realized how much she would enjoy quiet until she married and had two children. With Lilith and Russell at a daycare to interact with other children and Johnny at work, Sonya had the entire house to herself.
Lying back in the recliner, Sonya folded her hands behind her head, kicked her heels up on the ottoman, and breathed out impressively. "This . . . is paradise."
As per Murphy's Law, the phone rang at that exact moment of achieved relaxation.
Grumbling, Sonya argued with herself to let it ring. However, she still remembered what it had felt like when Johnny never picked up the phone nearly four years ago for Lilith's birth (and never let him forget it either) and loathed making someone else feel the same anxiety.
So with a growled curse Sonya got up and answered the phone on the fifth ring. "Cage household, Lieutenant Blade speaking."
There was a prolonged pause at the other end, and Sonya nearly snarled a (fiercer) expletive when the person on the other end said, "Sonya?"
She blinked. The voice sounded like Stryker, if he had been turned into a mouse with no self-confidence. She tried, "Stryker? Is that you?"
An audible gulp carried over the phone. "Er, yeah, i-it's me. D'you—I mean, you're probably b-busy with the kids and I'm sorry I shouldn't be bothering you now—"
"Kurt, slow down," Sonya frowned. "What the hell's wrong?"
"I-I just . . . what flowers did Johnny get you for a proposal?"
Sonya physically flinched at the unexpected question. "I hate flowers, so he didn't get me any. Where the hell did that come from?"
"W-well, I mean, if I propose to Darcy that means I need flowers, right? O-or was that chocolates? Fuck, I'm doing this wrong, aren't I? I mean she's wanted this for a long time and I can't do one thing right a-and now I'm going to be a failure—"
Sonya had never heard anyone in their tight-knit group of friends and comrades hyperventilate, but Stryker sounded damned close to fainting. "Stryker!"
The abrupt halt at the other end made Sonya worry she had caused Stryker to have a heart attack. Her own heart began to pump once again when Stryker whispered faintly, "Yeah?"
"Stryker, I want you to listen carefully and do everything I say. Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Breathe in deeply." When she heard the corresponding sound, she added, "Breathe out slowly." At the end of his breath, she asked, "Are you sitting?"
"Uh, er, no."
"Then sit down. Once you're sitting, tell me—calmly—what brought all this on."
Stryker practically blubbered, but finally managed to say coherently, "Jax, Johnny, and I went out to eat last night, but they started telling me how Darcy wanted to get married 'cause all women want to get married. I-I didn't think—she never seemed to want to but—they're so damn sure—"
Gritting her teeth and swearing brimstone on her husband's head, Sonya told herself to focus on calming Stryker down first before fantasizing about her vengeance. "Alright, Stryker, listen to me. I'm going to tell you what to do, and I don't care what my idiots of a partner and husband told you, this is the real deal from someone who knows how a woman's mind thinks. You listen to me, and do what I say, and everything will work out, okay?"
Sonya tapped her foot as she heard Johnny's car roll into the garage, the muscle in her jaw twitching as she read The Art of War.
Johnny strolled in with a hop in his step, smiling as he saw his wife and unaware of the danger into which he was mindlessly entering. "Hey, Sonya. Great day at work; just love working with Alan Smithee. Such a creative genius."
"That's great, sweetie," Sonya said in a falsely cheerful tone. She got up and gave Johnny a kiss, then used her book to hit him on the head.
Johnny fell back a few steps, crying out more in surprise than pain. Rubbing his head, he eyed his angered wife in confusion and asked, "What was that for?"
"That was for the seven hours I spent calming Stryker down from his panic attack," Sonya growled, then smacked Johnny again with the book. "That was on behalf of Stryker for sending him into that panic attack!"
Johnny began massaging his new ache, wincing and whimpering from actual pain this time. "Why was Stryker panicked?"
"Like you don't know!" Sonya shrieked, making Johnny flinch and take a few steps back. "You and Jax told him to marry Darcy!"
Soundlessly opening and closing his mouth, Johnny stammered, "We-we suggested it to him, yeah. Just to nudge—"
"Just to nudge!" Johnny winced as Sonya's pitch hit new soprano-heights. "Just to nudge! Stryker was halfway to reserving the church for a wedding for next week! He was freaking out about flowers and music and rings and whether or not scented candles were better than unscented! Maybe he needed the black balloons no the white ones are better except she hates white so maybe he needed pink or blue or yellow or the whole goddamn rainbow!"
Throughout her rant Sonya had advanced on Johnny until the actor's knees hit the couch and he fell heavily onto his backside. Even so, Johnny shrunk into the cushions as Sonya towered frighteningly over him.
"I told you and Jax not to mess with him, that he and Darcy could get along just fine without you interfering! Did you know, Darcy had never even mentioned dating? Usually when a woman wants to take the next step, she drops hints! Stryker never noticed any hints whatsoever! No exchanging of keys, no meeting relatives, no extravagant gifts, nothing! Do you think Stryker's so dense about women that he couldn't pick up on any hints she dropped? Well, do you? Do you!"
"No!" Johnny squeaked, wondering why his willpower wasn't sufficient enough to meld him into the couch.
Sonya's shoulders rose and fell heavily, fire raging in her eyes. "I hope you're happy. Here I was, sitting and looking forward to a day of peace and quiet, and instead I get a phone call from a hyperventilating friend terrified that he's been a horrible person to a woman who's going to leave him for a nonexistent significant other! I had to do serious damage control, which was insanely difficult considering Stryker was convinced he had been leading Darcy on and keeping her from having a happy life with a man more deserving than him! And I have you to thank!"
Lifting the book once more, she watched as Johnny cringed and wrapped his arms around his head. Sighing once again, she dropped the book onto the recliner she had been occupying and sat down next to him. She asked imploringly, "Johnny, please, next time you think someone needs your dating advice: don't. Just . . . don't."
Gulping, Johnny nodded. He asked hesitantly, "Can I hug you now?"
"Yes, you can hug me now."
Cautiously, Johnny wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her hair. "I hate it when you're mad at me, you know."
"I hate it when you do stupid things and make me mad at you. But I've forgiven you and I'm willing to forget this whole thing if you are."
"Okay. I can do that." They sat in silence for a while more, then Johnny asked, "Where are the kids?"
"At Jax's place."
"Did you—"
"Yes, he got a good pounding, too. When I informed Ruby of your antics, she got in a few punches, too. I thought having the kids over there rather than here would be better for them."
"Good." Johnny paused, then ventured, "Er, Sonya, I want to get this behind us as much as you do, but . . . what'd you tell Stryker to do?"
"Told him to talk to Darcy and see what her opinion on the matter was, which is what you and Jax should have told him," Sonya scowled. "Men."
"Sorry?" Johnny smiled nervously. At her 'no, I'm not going to be won over that easy' look, Johnny added, "How about a day all to yourself tomorrow? I'll take the kids to the park, I'll program the phone to forward all calls to my cell, and you'll only have to worry about your own cell. How's that?"
"It's a good start," Sonya said grudgingly, settling into the curve of his torso.
"And a hot bath?" Johnny rubbed her arms, kissing the hollow of her collar bone.
"Mm hmm," Sonya nodded, eyes closing.
"And you can have the run of the bed, too," Johnny suggested, nuzzling the nape of her neck.
"Not much of a special treat," Sonya muttered at him.
He whispered something in her ear, causing her brow to arch high. She opened her eyes, the brow still curved upward in incredulity. "Really?"
"Really," Johnny nodded.
"Hmm," Sonya tilted her head speculatively. "I think you've got yourself a deal, bad boy."
"Mmm, good," Johnny kissed her. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."
"Mm, wait," Sonya grabbed his arm, preventing him from rising. "One other little thing you have to do."
"What?" Johnny frowned. "I've already given you—"
"Not for me," Sonya corrected. "You've got a lot of apologies to make to Stryker. You and Jax both."
Johnny sighed. "Yeah, you're right."
"Jax has the expenses-paid weekend at the Willard InterContinental Washington reserved for he and Darcy," Sonya informed him with a kiss on the cheek. "You're going to cover the hockey tickets and all related expenses to the Ranger's next home game."
Nearly arguing (no sort of panic attack could be worth such an expensive exchange) Johnny looked into his wife's face and realized that she would not budge on the matter. Sighing, Johnny kissed her and said, "Alright, it'll get done. V.I.P. seats and all. Satisfied?"
"Undeniably," Sonya rose, pulling gently on Johnny's collar. "C'mon. I've got that hot bath waiting, and there's not going to be any fun tonight if I don't get that first."
Johnny tried to hold onto his dismay that his goodwill intentions had been flushed down Stryker's insecurity toilet, but he could only grin.
Tonight would be good. Very, very good.
