A/N: This is the sixth part of the 6.01 premiere AU that was originally posted as Chapter 14 in "Reconnecting."
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6.01 AU – This is My Island in the Sun - Part 6
An alternate for Season Six and beyond following on from 5.16 – Depth Perception
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Miami, July 4th, 2013
All the furniture in the two bedroom apartment on the twentieth floor of the luxury building that Mr. and Mrs Michael Westen called home had been pushed back against the walls, making a large empty square in the middle of the open plan living area. In the center, two figures warily circled each other with their knees flexed, their weight balanced on the balls of their feet, left legs leading and their hands in fists.
"I swear, Michael, if ya don' stop this over protective bullshit am gonna knock yar block off." The lithe auburn haired woman, dressed in nothing more than a sports bra and Lycra shorts, attacked with flying fists in a one-two combination followed by a roundhouse kick, forcing her larger opponent back towards the kitchen area.
"I… don't… know… what you're talking about, Fi." Michael blocked each of her attacks easily while sliding backwards to maintain the distance between them. "We go out."
"No," she spun around, aiming a reverse kick at his toned abs and followed it up immediately with a back fist to his shaven jaw and another punch to his ribs. "Us… as a family. You go out all the bloody time, once in a blue moon I go out. Ya cannae keep yar son a prisoner in our home! Am sick o' having ta argue with ya every time I wanna take Glenn out ta tha park on me own. Am nae going ta Hialeah! It's jus' across tha road, ya daft man, and am armed ta tha teeth." She attempted to sweep his front leg, but he evaded the sneak attack and pushed his guard hand towards her face to make her back off.
"It's too dangerous…." The ex-spy jerked his head to the side as a tightly packed fist brushed his cheekbone. "He's still too young…" and retaliated with a roundhouse kick of his own. But where his attack was light and lacking most of his power, her blows were coming with everything she had.
"Are you sayin' I can't take care of our son?" she demanded and then Fiona smiled wickedly. She had her husband of nearly eighteen months exactly where she wanted him. One more half step back and his heel would hit the base of the counter top and he'd have nowhere left to go. "It's the fourth and, for the good of our family, Michael Donavan Westen, I am claiming back me independence." Her assault was fluid and lightning fast, back fist, double punch and a snap kick to his throat.
Michael rolled his head to the side to reduce the impact of her fist to his cheek, while using an arm to deflect the punches, before catching hold of a shapely ankle and keeping hold of it just long enough to prove his point. Then he slipped by her, turning the tables. Now his wife was the one with her back to the counter top and little room to maneuver.
"I'm doing this for the good of our family, Fi." He feinted a punch and, when she blocked him, he captured her guard hand, twisted to the side and tossed her over his hip onto the floor. "You heard Pearce. With all the trouble that's been stirred up in Belfast recently, there's reason to believe somebody with a grudge against you could-" His words were cut off as Fiona wrapped her legs about his thighs and twisted. He fell down beside her and in an instant she was astride him.
"It's always something with you and Pearce and your security issues. If anybody from back home was threatening me, I would've had word already." She dismissed his concerns. "I want you to quit throwin' a hissy fit every time I want to take our son somewhere that isn't your mom's or Elsa's..."
Mrs. Westen rocked her hips, sliding her crotch against his flat belly while freeing her long auburn locks from the scrunchie, which had held the mass of hair off her face. "I want you to stop worrying all the time." She shook her head until the untidy mane framed her flushed features. "Yer meant ta be equal partners with Sam an' yet ya keep leaving him ta finish up jobs so ya can come home ta check up on whot am doin'... It's about time ya learned ta relax, Michael. Yer gonna burst an artery!"
If she hadn't been so adamant, her husband might have found her Irish accent rising and ebbing in tune with her temper amusing. He was trying to take her concerns seriously, but Michael was finding her very close proximity very distracting. Her palms pushed under his black sleeveless undershirt. "And it's about time you started trusting that I know what I'm doing." Her thumbs circled his hardening nipples as she felt another part of his anatomy growing underneath her.
"I- trust you, Fiona. It's just -" Muscles tensed, as with a sudden surge of strength, the dark haired mane twisted and then he was the one on top, pinning the petite woman to the floor, his hips grinding against hers while his lips laid claim to her throat with hundreds of butterfly kisses.
"It's… it's… Mi – Michael" His name came out as a sigh, as soft kisses turned more ardent and his teeth found the sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. "Michael, we – we have to talk about -" His lips found hers, stealing away her words in a deep kiss.
Kiss followed passionate kiss, the sparring session, both physical and verbal, forgotten in the heat of the moment. An undershirt, ripped asunder and thrown aside, was quickly joined by a sports bra as the need for skin to skin contact became too intense to ignore.
"Should we take this to the bedroom?" Michael asked as he gazed at his wife's flushed countenance.
Blue-green eyes stared back at him; her fingers which had been combing through his short dark hair suddenly flexed into claws, urging his head down so his mouth and tongue could get back to what they had been doing before. "Not 'til ya finish whot ya st -"
"Maaaaaaa! Maaaaaaaa! MAAAAaaaaaa!"
Both of them froze momentarily in place at the distressed cries coming from their son's room.
"I'll -" Fiona wriggled out from underneath her husband, her hand reaching for her top. But before she could get to her feet, he was already on half way to the door to the nursery.
"I'll get him... You go have a shower and get ready."
"Maaaaaaaaaaa! MAAAAAaaaaa!"
"Get ready for what?"
"I thought you wanted to go out? We'll go down to the park for an hour before heading over to pick up my mom and go to Elsa's."
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The former spy turned security consultant didn't wait around to hear what his wife had to say in reply to his offer. Instead he rushed towards the door to their son's room and slipped inside. Since returning to work full-time, he hadn't had as many opportunities to spend time with his baby boy as he would have liked. So when the chance arose, he wasn't about to miss out.
The room was still dark, the black-out curtains successfully doing the job of keeping the early morning sunshine out of the nursery. The only light came from the soft glow of the night light plugged into the wall socket across the room where small hands couldn't reach it.
"Morning, Champ." Michael beamed down at his child. Reaching into the cot, he picked up the screaming seven month old and cradled him to his chest before taking a second to nuzzle the boy's dark curly hair and breathe in his scent. "I'm sorry, did we wake you up? Let's get you changed and then we'll go find your Mommy, huh?"
Placing the infant on the nearby changing station, the ex-covert operative worked with the same efficiency he used to display when field stripping an assault rifle to strip the now happily gurgling infant of his sleep suit and soiled diaper.
He still remembered exactly how he had felt the night their baby was born. He remembered the raw emotion which had overtaken him at the sound of his son's first cry and the near overwhelming pride he had felt when he had carried the little one out to show his mother and friends what he and Fiona had created.
Later on, sitting on the bed in the Overtown clinic, his exhausted wife resting in his arms as she fed their child from her breast, he had silently made a solemn vow that he would do whatever was necessary to keep that small helpless boy safe from harm or die trying and that urge to safeguard his family had only grown stronger over the ensuing months. He knew what it felt like to think he had lost the center of his universe and he was determined he would never feel that anguish again.
In no time at all, Michael soon had his son cleaned up and dressed in a fresh white cotton vest, which buttoned between his chubby legs, followed by a light pastel blue t-shirt with a stars & stripes motif and darker blue shorts. "I'm sure your mom has something fancier for you to wear when we go visit your Uncle Sam but this will do for now."
Lifting his child up, Michael went over to draw the curtains to let in some daylight before stopping to switch off the night light. "Breakfast time and then I've promised your Mommy we'd visit the park." He filled the infant in on the activities planned for this special morning while young Master Westen tried to suck on his daddy's bare chest.
" 'kay, Glenn…" He opened the fridge door wide so they could both look inside. "I can take a hint."
The man of the house rummaged through the little cups on the second shelf. "I'm sorry, buddy, we're out of blueberry. I promise I'll get more, but you gotta pick another flavor. So what do you say? Strawberry? Peach?" He waited, half tempted to feed the baby the Brenners in the back of fridge. When the soft sucking noises started to change to impatient grizzling, Michael snatched out the first of the tiny baby sized cups of yogurt his hand landed on. "Peach it is."
Passing through the open glass doors which led out on to the wide balcony, Michael took a seat overlooking the marina and, with his offspring sitting on his lap, the former operative negotiated the tricky task of holding a wriggling child and a spoon while also removing the lid from a yogurt cup.
By the time Fiona had been ready to leave the Overtown clinic, they still hadn't arrived at a name they could both agree on. Donald for his former commander and Derry for the first place they'd made love hadn't lasted a second after Laura had handed them the birth certificate paperwork with a plea to return it as soon as possible before she'd let them go home.
"Well, Frank and Patrick are out of the running. What about our grandparents? Me mother's da was Ryan and me da's father was Tierney... What about yours?"
He had shivered at the thought. "We never saw any of my mom's family, except for her sister, Jill, once every coupla of years and there's no way I'm having a kid called Elias, besides that's Nate's second name."
So then the discussion had then moved on to their own middle names.
"Donavan wouldn't be too bad. What do think about changing Ciaran to Keiran or maybe Kain?" That had been Fiona's suggestion.
Talk of his second name had brought up another possibility and the thought had made him smile. Due to a clerical error, he'd had been stuck with his dear old dad's middle name, Allen, throughout the latter half of his CIA career. After he'd come back from Ireland, it had taken another three months for the paperwork to catch up with him as he'd gone immediately out again on another mission to Bosnia.
Upon his return from the field, Michael had discovered not only had Frank Allen Westen died the year before, but some pencil pusher had mixed up his own middle name with that of his father on the notices and certificates. His pleas to fix a mistake that was well over a year old at that point had fallen on largely deaf ears. They'd probably be fixing that screw-up on his own death certificate given the way the bureaucracy worked in Washington.
"What about Glenn Allen Westen?" he'd asked with a touch of mischief in his tone.
She had given him such a look. Merely thinking about it made him smile at the memory as she'd replied, "I thought you wanted to stay under the radar?"
He had and he still did. There had been an offer from the CIA to give them whole new identities when his former government employers had discovered Fiona was pregnant and, at the time, he had been so very, very tempted to take them up on it. But something deep inside had stopped him. He hadn't thought it possible, given that he had spent most of his adult life running away from his relatives, but it was strangely important to him that his son grew up with a sense of family.
"It's a good name…" was the only reply he had offered at the time.
Blue-green eyes had stared into his soul and then Fiona had nodded and smiled. "Glenn Allen Westen, it is then."
"You are a crafty man, Michael Westen."
He had been so engrossed in feeding the baby and keeping curious fingers out of the cup or from grabbing the spoon that he had failed to hear his wife coming up behind him until she whispered in his ear. She still had it. The Irishwoman was the only one who ever could sneak up on the spy.
"But you don't fool me with your promises," she continued before kissing his cheek. "If you think a walk in the park before the day has barely begun is gonna satisfy me, you're sorely mistaken."
"Fi, I only want what's best -"
"I know that." She moved another chair over to his side and sat down next to him, taking the baby into her arms as the little one reached out for his mother. "We'll talk about it later – I have plans for tonight."
"Plans…?" He swallowed nervously, wondering what the petite redhead had had time to plan while looking after their boisterous boy.
"Don't concern yourself, Michael. I promise you, it will be fun... Now, go have your shower - oh and you need to give your mother a call. She rang me in a terrible state, something about Nate and Ruth."
He winced. Nate and Ruth arguing was nothing new, so it had to be something slightly more serious if his mom was calling him about it this early. Madeline hadn't changed much, but she was trying to respect the fact there was an infant around and everyone needed more sleep… trying anyway…
He paused to watch as his wife opened the nursing bra, which had replaced the sports version she had been wearing earlier. The sight of his son feeding never failed to enchant him, the look of adoration which passed between mother and child holding him captive.
"Michael, your shower and your mom…?"
"I'll call her first or she'll -" As if on cue, the phone in the lounge began to ring. "I'll get it."
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Fiona leaned back in the chair and stared pensively at the few soft fluffy white clouds which were leisurely making their way across the blue sky. She had everything she had ever wished for and a whole lot more. She glanced down at her son's mop of hair, spotting the glint of deep auburn strands amongst the darkness. Glenn had his daddy's blue eyes, but she was sure she was seeing the beginning of his Glenanne heritage coming through.
As if realizing he was being observed, Glenn looked up into his mother's eyes, just for a second before returning to his breakfast. Yes, she was blessed indeed and content, or she would be if she could just solve one tiny problem.
They had both been a bit of a mess when they had returned home with their newborn, although mess wasn't really the right word, shell shocked fitted them better, especially after seventy two hours without sleep as six pounds of wailing infant kept them on their toes.
They had both read all the books they could get their hands on regarding child rearing and had been positive they knew all the theory on how to care for their baby. Unfortunately for all those concerned, Glenn hadn't been made privy to the knowledge held in the baby manuals and he didn't have a clue on how he was supposed to behave. As Michael was fond of pointing out, no plan ever survives the first hours on the battlefield, so they had been forced to change and adapt to fit in with their baby's needs.
She had been both surprised and grateful that her husband had wanted to be so involved in his son's life and hadn't gone scurrying off back to work at the first opportunity, especially as he had been working from early in the morning until late at night before the boy's birth. She had found his concerns for both her and Glenn's safety sweet while she had been recovering from childbirth. But now seven months later, the constant attention, more so the paranoia, was wearing very thin indeed.
A sharp pain in her right breast made the petite redhead gasp and grimace. "Biting the one feeding you isn't a good move, baby boy." Fiona gently eased her son away from her sore nipple and examined the indentations in her flesh made by her infant's two tiny teeth.
Glenn looked up at her again, his rosebud lips in a pout while tiny hands reached up and caught hold of her hair, tangling his fingers in her freshly washed locks in an effort to investigate his interesting find.
"I can see it's going to be one of those days." She mused as she carefully freed her hair and flicked it back over her shoulder and out of the way of curious fingers. "How about we go back inside and you can play on the floor?" Getting to her feet, she carried the boy back inside while rubbing his back to burp him before going over to where his box of toys had been moved to, making space for his parents early morning sparring session.
The former gun runner turned loving mother was still sitting on the floor with her son when Michael came back from his shower. Wearing only a pair of old jeans, he was rubbing a towel over his short black hair. "Nate and Ruth won't be coming to the party," he announced in a pained tone.
"Really? I thought you'd be relieved." Spending time with his brother's family was definitely not on Mr. Westen's favorite-things-to-do list. Learning to deal with his mom had been enough of a battle.
"Normally, yes, except I don't think my mom's going to stop talking about them all day. Apparently, Ruth has gone back to Las Vegas. She took Charlie with her and Nate is chasing after them.
"About time," Fiona muttered, glancing away from Glenn for a second. The train wreck marriage of the other Mr. and Mrs. Westen was like a bad soap opera, which in her opinion had run on long after it should have been cancelled and the lead characters sent off for therapy.
"Mom said Nate was really trying this time…" He shrugged as he came over to join them on the tile. "Gee, I can't imagine why Ruth didn't believe him this time. I mean, seriously, how many times do you have to fall off the wagon before you use up all your credibility? And I don't just mean the drinking. Did you know he's been gambling again, apparently since last year?"
She closed her eyes and let her husband's words flow over her head. In the last few months, she'd had to listen to Michael snipe at his mother as Madeline defended her youngest son's life choices while the eldest son pointed out all his younger sibling's short comings.
The Irishwoman did have a certain amount of sympathy for the other Mrs. Westen. Although Michael rarely drank and never to excess or gambled with anything, other than his own life, she knew all too well what it was like to live with addiction, or in Michael's case obsession.
The only difference between the brothers was, whereas the younger Westen seemed determined to drown himself and all those around him with debts, loan sharks and copious amounts of alcohol and drugs, the older one had arguably found a more useful outlet for his personality flaws. But the eldest could be just as determined when he got something into this head. Years of chasing his burn notice and international cabals had morphed into a conspiracy to keep her and their offspring hostage in their own home, smothering his family in an effort to keep them safe from the outside world.
"Let's not talk about Nate's problems right now." She smiled sweetly at her spouse. "Let's talk about how you're going to give me three hours to make arrangements for our own private celebrations later and then when I return how you will, without a single comment about the dangers of life outside these four walls, take a stroll with me and Glenn about the park and let your son enjoy watching the puppet show and all the other street entertainers." The smile was still in place, but steely eyed determination had replaced the sweet expression of earlier.
The ex-guerrilla watched as Michael fought against his natural inclination to do exactly what she had warned him against, his mouth opening and closing with words of caution begging to come out.
"Three hours?" he gulped. "That's a long time."
"It's a big surprise I have for you." She jumped to her feet and handed her husband a fluffy soft toy in the shape of a blue smiling horse. She pressed a kiss to the top of his still damp hair and then declared, "Have fun, boys, an' no excuses... cuz when I get back, we're goin' out as a family."
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Three hours and fifteen minutes later, Fiona was on her way home in the elevator travelling up to the twentieth floor. The time she had given herself had barely been enough for what she had planned for the evening. Wiping her hands down the front of her jeans, she tried to remove the last vestiges of evidence of what she had been up to. Tonight was going to be special. The former PIRA operative was going to remind the man in her life exactly who he had married.
"You're late." Michael abandoned the book he had been reading to come to her side. "Did you get everything done?"
"More or less," she answered evasively and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Where's Glenn?"
"He fell asleep about an hour ago... I couldn't keep him up and I didn't think you'd want him all grumpy when we go to the park." He defended his actions as the blue-green orbs which stared back at him had narrowed dangerously.
"As long as we're still going out... What time did you tell your mom we would pick her up?" She was already calculating how long they would have to themselves.
"I thought about that after you left, so I called Jesse and explained to him we wanted to take Glenn out to do some family stuff before going to Elsa's and he offered to pick up my mom... Sooo," He looked into her eyes. "We can do whatever you want until we have to go over to Star Island."
Fiona couldn't help but smile back, as he carefully moved a few strands of hair off her face. "Whatever I want..?" she repeated his words back to him.
Just by staring into her spouse's deep blue eyes, she could see exactly how the ex-spy wanted to spend the extra time he had bought them. But that would take the edge off the evening she had put so much effort into organizing.
"It's past twelve. We should get Glenn up. By the time he's had some lunch, it'll be nearly one and Sam was saying yesterday he wants us all on board the yacht before four."
Michael sighed heavily and dramatically dropped his chin to his chest. But he was soon over his disappointment. As he raised his head, she could see the playful sparkle was still in his eyes. She stroked her palm down his chest to the waistband of his jeans and then Fiona used his belt to pull him in so she could place a soft kiss to his bottom lip.
"Going to the park, especially on this day, is all part of being a family. You've wrapped us up in cotton wool long enough, Michael. Your son needs to see more than these four walls and the view over balcony."
"I know, Fi. It's just -" He shrugged his shoulders and drew her in for another kiss.
"The park, Michael…" She reminded him with a light slap on his bottom. "Our play time will come later."
She went to walk towards the nursery, but he spun her back around. "How about a little clue... Er, you know, so I – er… Do I need to bring anything for this surprise?"
Ah, now there was a look she knew all too well; the interrogation was about to begin. She shook her head.
"Because if we're going dancing…" He paused, looking for a reaction. But the petite redhead knew what he was doing and just continued to blandly smile and shake her head. "Or somewhere expensive I should wear a suit?" No response. "Ooorrr, if we're going to be outside, should I pack a blanket?"
"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise." The Irishwoman casually dismissed his questions with a flick of her hair and pushed open the nursery door. "Go see to your son's lunch, Michael... And don't be bothering Sam or Jesse either. They know nothing about tonight – it's going to be our little secret."
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The stroll in the park was as bad as Michael suspected it was going to be: crowds of people on the footpaths, many of them passing by his family far too close for his comfort, children running here there and everywhere, screaming and shouting, balls flying through the air, dogs barking and that was all before his over stretched nerves had to deal with all the distractions of grown men and women with their faces concealed under layers of make up or even worse hidden all together inside suits which disguised them as children's favorite TV characters.
He had once thought vacation spots were hell on earth, with everybody from some place else and nowhere decent to hide a gun in a bathing suit. But this was far, far worse, at least back then he hadn't had to worry about who was skulking inside a Sponge Bob Square Pants costume.
Consoling himself with the knowledge that along with his SIG hidden in the waist band of his jeans concealed by his untucked shirt and a Glock 26 in an ankle holster, he had also placed a tracker on the stroller and another into the waistband of Glenn's shorts just in case the unthinkable happened.
Glancing at the stunning redhead in a light blue sundress and four inch wedge heeled sandals at his side, the ex-spy wasn't quite sure what she had brought along, although he had spotted the Walther in her purse and the throwing knife she was wearing in a sheath high on her right thigh.
"Smile, Michael." His spouse shot him a sideways glance. "This is supposed to be a wonderful day, our son's first Independence Day."
"I'm smiling, see?" He barred his teeth in his patented Michael Westen smile.
"But, not on the inside," she countered. "Smile on the inside too, Michael... Oh look! The puppet show is about to begin, come on."
They stayed out for two hours after the puppet show, which Michael spent the whole time acting as if he were on bodyguard duty in a hostile location. Finally, they found a quiet shaded spot on the grass and ate ice cream, laughing at the mess Glenn managed to make as they shared the creamy treat with their offspring.
Back at the apartment, they worked quickly, showering and changing their own clothes and then gathering up all the equipment needed for a seven month old to spend a night away from home.
"Are we sure that letting my mom look after Glenn overnight is a good idea?" Michael asked as he reluctantly picked up the as-yet-unused travel cot in its carry bag in one hand and an overstuffed canvas bag holding baby clothes, diapers, and all the other necessities for a baby sleepover in the other.
"Your mom has looked after Charlie and he survived the experience. Besides she won't be alone with him. Sam and Elsa are staying on the yacht too."
She knew what was wrong because, in this instance, she was just as apprehensive as the former covert operative. This was going to be the first night where neither one of them wasn't going to be there for Glenn. It was a massive step. But with their lives, there were undoubtedly going to be times when they were both going to have to be away.
Fiona had done everything she could to ensure that while they were gone having some much needed alone time, Glenn was going to be kept safe. The redhead grinned as she remembered the conversation between the boat owner and Michael's best friend. Although Elsa hadn't exactly approved, the older woman had understood when her guest had requested Sam be allowed to bring his favorite assault rifle on board.
"Look at it this way, baby. We break Mikey of all this clingy over protective BS and then we can take that trip to Aruba and not have to worry about my partner wrecking the business we've just spent a year building up," had been how Mr. Axe had sold his girlfriend on the extra ordinance he wanted to stowaway on her fancy boat.
"Will we be nearby? You know, er… just in case... I mean, I've tried to work out where we'll be staying. I'm guessing up to an hour away from here, but that leaves a lot of places."
"Glenn will be guarded by an ex-SEAL on a yacht surrounded by the ocean with a crew of six on board who would all die for that little boy... Now stop asking questions about tonight." She pressed a finger on the call button for the elevator and Michael sucked on his bottom lip and let the matter drop, at least for now.
()()()()()
Sam Axe stood on the upper deck of his lady friend's luxury yacht and waved a greeting to his two best-friends before heading down to greet them on the jetty in front of the Star Island Italian-style mansion.
"Hey, Mikey, Fi, and how's my favorite nephew doin'? You ready to go on an adventure, sailor?" The former SEAL turned chief security consultant for the Dearbon Hotel Group leaned down to the baby carrier being held between the couple and ruffled the infant's dark curls.
"Not too much of an adventure, Sam. Boring is good too," Michael interrupted.
They had all been worried about Michael's latest self-appointed mission and deep down they had all known they were somewhat to blame. You can't tell a man like Michael Westen that the love of his life has been killed, taken down in a hail of bullets doing a job he had sent her on, and expect him to just get over it, even if at first it looked like he had done precisely that. However, after the arrival of the youngest Westen, the former spy had taken the role of a doting father cum guard dog to a whole new level in an effort to make sure nobody got close enough to harm his family.
Straightening up, the retired naval commander made a big show of looking over his buddy's shoulder. "Okay, fella, who are you and what have you done with my pal, Mike Westen? Cuz the guy I knew would have been the first one out lookin' to stir up trouble."
"He's still here, Sam." the younger man grinned. "But seven months old might be a bit young to be thinking about invading Cuba."
"How about a little bit of piracy along the Bahamas?" Fiona laughed. "It's been a long time since I committed any acts of mayhem at sea."
"Come on," Sam slapped his former brother-in-arms on the back and then reached between his friends to take over carrying the newest member of their team. "Everybody else is aboard and getting settled in."
"Jesse and Dani staying overnight?" Michael asked, obviously happy at the thought of having the former counter intelligence agent and his CIA officer girlfriend on board for the night.
"Uh-huh, they've both got a long weekend free. So we're thinking about taking a cruise around the Gulf, do a bit of sunbathing, fishing – diving."
"Just the four of you..?"
"You wanted come along? Gee, Mike, I dunno..." He tried to keep up the act, but couldn't quite manage it, not when he could read the disappointment in the other man's eyes. "It's okay, your mom brought a bag of clothes for the three of you. Fi was pretty sure you wouldn't want to throw away a chance to go scuba diving."
Once onboard, the couple went straight down to the cabins. While Fiona changed into a white bikini she hadn't had a chance to wear for nearly two years and also slathered Glenn in a thick layer of sunscreen, Michael knocked and entered his mother's suite with the travel cot, mattress and blankets which would be his boy's bed while they were at sea.
Madeline kissed her oldest son on the cheek and then the first words out of her mouth were just what he had expected. "Have you called your brother yet? He's a mess, that – that woman just ran off in the middle of the night. I don't understand how somebody could just disappear like that."
He was momentarily grateful that Fiona wasn't in the cabin, as she surely would have had an opinion about people named Westen vanishing in the middle of the night without a word.
"Maybe she just wanted to stop all Charlie's things from ending up in the pawn shop." He had the cot out of the bag and was locking the supports in place.
"Michael! Nate has a problem! And she knew what he was like when they got -"
"Right, because they met at a black jack table. Ma, they got married too soon and then when everything started falling apart, they had the bright idea that a baby would solve their problems." Pulling out a cotton sheet from the bag, Michael covered the thin mattress and placed it inside.
"That's not fair, Michael. You don't have to be so judgemental. You know, if Ruth was more like Fiona -"
He tried to choke down the laughter but was unable to hold it in. The thought of Nate Westen with a woman like Fiona Glenanne…
"If – If -" He gulped and swallowed and then tried again, his mother's indignation only making things worse. Mama Bear Westen crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her oldest boy.
"If I lost my business…" He referred to the limousine service, which had also cost Madeline a lot of money and had left his younger brother bankrupt. "If I gambled away the money my son needed for food and to put a roof over his head, if I did half the things Nate did, Fiona would have killed me ten times over." Mr. Westen finally got the words out in a matter of fact manner.
As he watched his mother's expression, it was almost as if he could see the wheels turning in her head. "Well, maybe instead of judging him, you could have offered him a job."
He closed his eyes and begged for some sort of divine intervention. "Mom, I -"
A sharp rap on the door saved him from replying and when Jesse stuck his head inside the door, Michael could have kissed him.
"Hey Mike, Maddy, I'm making some of my world famous margaritas and I remembered how much you like them. Care to join me on deck?" The tall shaven headed man held the cabin door open for the woman he considered his surrogate mother and, as the elderly blonde left the room, he looked over her head to the man who was like an older brother to him and winked.
"Thank you," Mr. Westen mouthed and followed his mom and his brother from another mother up on to the lower deck.
Once all the luggage was stowed away and the guests were all helping themselves to the snacks and drinks that the crew of the Easy Peasy had laid out, Elsa Dearbon, with her lover Sam Axe at her side, took the controls and pointed the eighty five foot yacht out to sea.
Elsa's love of the sea and the small flotilla of boats she kept throughout the world had at first been one of the many things that had attracted Sam to the mega-wealthy hotelier. But what had started as another one of his seductions had quickly turned to so much more for the one-time ladies' man as he had begun to see past the money and possessions to the vulnerable woman underneath. Boy Toy and Big Momma were names long ago put to rest as they had realized what they had was so much more than a wild fling.
"You really think one night away from Glenn and a few days cruising around the Gulf will be enough?" Sam whispered in the ear of the one and only woman of his dreams.
"I know what it's like, Sammy. After I had Evan, I got lost for a while... It's so easy to forget who you are when you have a brand new life that's wholly dependent on you." She leaned back against his chest and pulled one of his arms around her waist. "They both just need a little reminder of who they are, that's all."
"I hope you're right, baby." He nuzzled her ear, breathing in the flowery scent of her perfume and delighting in the way her firm taut bottom wriggled against his pants as she responded to the touch of his hand squeezing her waist. "Cuz I'm looking forward to spending time with you on that very private…" He nipped her earlobe. "And very secluded beach in Aruba you was telling me all about."
For a few more minutes, the couple enjoyed their time away from their guests. But it wasn't long until the yacht's captain came up onto the deck, clearing his throat and coughing to announce his presence before he actually came into sight.
"Er… Ms. Dearbon, we're heading into busy waters. What with the shipping lanes and -"
"That's fine, Captain Merkel, please take over. Thank you for letting me have the controls."
As the yacht cruised out to the spot Captain Merkel had assured his employer would give them the best view of the various firework displays due to take place throughout the night, the group of friends spent the time catching up. Though Sam and Michael worked together and Michael saw Dani Pearce regularly, as she kept him updated on any threats to his family, mostly their busy lives meant they didn't get to meet up as regularly as they used to.
"So, people, I think now is as good a time as any to break our news." Jesse got to his feet and pulled the willowy, dark haired Ms. Pearce up to stand at his side. "This one here gotta promotion a few weeks ago. She's gonna be heading up her own team of analysts working on a very special project in DC – and I'm going with her. Securicorp is transferring me to their office there – annnd we've just put a deposit down on a little apartment. It's only a one bedroom place, but it'll be ours."
Everybody was stunned, but just for a moment.
"Wow! That's great news, brother." Sam was the first to react, jumping up to pump Jesse's hand and plant a kiss on Dani's cheek before the others joined in.
The talk then turned to the logistics of making the move north and how Dani had been offered the new position over three weeks ago but, until Jesse had managed to secure a transfer, they had decided not to mention the move.
Time flew by and as the skies darkened, Michael carried Glenn up onto the upper deck. With Fiona at his side and the rest of their friends and family around them, they watched the first bright light whiz across the sky, followed almost immediately by other bright showers of lights in every color imaginable.
Glenn stared wide eyed up at the brilliant display, his tiny hands gripping his daddy's shirt tightly as his mouth opened and closed in wonder.
"He likes it," Michael commented with a grin.
"How could he not?" Fiona answered her husband, as she reached up to place a kiss on her baby boy's cheek. "He's half Glenanne."
Half an hour later, after Michael had cuddled and kissed his son goodnight, Fiona carried the infant down to the cabin which he would be sharing with his grandmother and following behind her came Sam Axe, who took several furtive looks over his shoulder before speaking.
"Okay lady, I've got the supplies you asked for. They're all in the inflatable. I'm not even gonna ask what you two are up to... But can you try an' leave at least some parts of Miami standing?"
"Oh, Miami is perfectly safe, Sam," the petite Irishwoman smirked. "I can't guarantee the same for Michael."
The older man held up his hands, pleading for the redheaded pixie not to say another word on the subject. He headed back to the upper deck to make sure that his buddy made it onto the other boat.
With Glenn settled down until he would wake for his late night feed, which his mom had left for Madeline to give him in a bottle, and a baby monitor set up beside the travel cot to alert the people on deck if he awoke, Fiona pressed a light kiss to her son's forehead and crept out of the room.
"Go on, Mikey, we'll take care of the Big Guy, don't you worry," Mr. Axe assured his best friend as he helped the Irish spitfire down into the smaller vessel. "Go enjoy yourselves."
"Are you sure you-" Just the fact that Fiona had accepted the older man's help was troubling him.
"Yes, Michael, everything is fine." His woman interrupted the dark haired man's query by and pulling the cord to start the engine of the four-man inflatable they were borrowing for the evening. "We'll be back before the morning."
With the wind in her hair and sea spray flying up into her face, Fiona couldn't help the ear to ear grin which nearly split her face in two. It had been three years since she had last been skimming over the waves, only that time she had been armed to the teeth and happily thinking about what she was going to spend all the money on she was going to make selling the P90s she had just stolen from John Beck, a new arms dealer in town who was out to take over the trade belonging to all the smaller dealers such as herself.
"We're going to Cutler Bay?"
She barely caught his words. Turning her head slightly, the ex-terrorist nodded and went back to navigating her way past all the other vessels out to watch the celebrations without slowing down one iota. This was a chance to have some fun, let their hair down and, most importantly for her husband, to be reminded that he hadn't married some delicate little woman who needed to be protected from the big bad world.
Slowing down only when the lights on the jetty came into sight, she directed the small craft towards a quiet dark corner. As Michael stood up and jumped up onto the floating deck to tie up their transport, the former gun runner noticed for the first time the bag of supplies had been opened and obviously rooted through.
"Fi, what exactly have you got planned?" he asked as he took her hand and helped her ashore.
"Think back," she suggested, handing him the heavy bag to carry. Then, when he obviously couldn't come up with an answer, she took pity and gave him a clue. "Me birthday, Dublin '98...?.. You made me a cake and then we-"
"Okay, that explains the Reddi-Whip... Though I think I had to use Dairy Whip… But it doesn't explain the thermite and C-4."
"All will be revealed... Come on, I have a car waiting for us out on the road."
The Irishwoman picked up her speed, eager to get the celebrations started. After what felt like being locked up for the last year, she wanted nothing more than to let loose and raise some hell. Reaching the road, her heart began to race. Her friend Marcus Dwyer hadn't let her down. The man was an arms dealer and explosive expert by trade, but he had a lot of children, many who had diversified into other fields, one such was a master car thief and Marcus' son had found exactly what she had asked for: a seven year old silver BMW convertible.
"As you got me such a pitiful present for my birthday this year, I got the Reddi-Whip to remind you how we used to celebrate special occasions and I got this car -"
"Because it looks identical to the one you stole and I drove on our first date in Miami," Michael filled the gap and held the passenger door open for her to step inside.
"What else d'ya remember of that night?" She batted her eyelashes at him.
"You wanted to feel the wind in your hair, go fast and have some fun." He listed her commands for their first night together in over a year. "I take it your orders haven't changed?" He flashed his teeth in a shark-like smile as his memory flooded his brain with all the details of that crazy night.
"This is all about the fun, Michael. We've just gone fast and can you see the state o' me hair? Let's go have some real fun."
Her husband slid behind the wheel of the sports car and his face showed his surprise when, instead of having to twist wires together, he found a key in the ignition.
"I have very talented friends..." was her cryptic reply. "Drive, Michael, show me you haven't lost your touch for a bit of mayhem.
The convertible's wheels spun as the engine roared and then the silver car took off, leaving a gravel and dust cloud trail behind them.
"You have a destination in mind?" He kept up the pressure on the gas pedal as he worked the clutch and gear lever until they were rocketing along a long straight back road away from the bay.
Fiona raised her arms above her head, letting the wind rush over her skin, her long auburn hair was blown in all directions and, for the first time in a long time, she felt truly free. It was almost like being drunk as she let go of all her frustrations of day-to-day life.
Twisting in her seat, she wrapped her arms about the man whose concentration was solely focussed on keeping the car on the road as he drove at increasingly reckless speeds. With her mouth against his ear, she began to whisper.
"D'ya think ya still have it in ya? D'ya think ya can still keep yar eyes and all yar attention on tha road whotever I say or do? Or have ya lost yar edge? D'ya recall thot time in Derry?" she taunted him as the vehicle flew over the unlit asphalt.
"Two Americans wa' rumored ta be comin ta visit thar Emerald Isle ta see whot all their fund raising had been used fer," she continued, her breath sending chills down his spine. "Yar warn't thar ta stop 'em, oh no, jus' ta take thar photographs ta hand over ta thot bastid Englishman Chambers. But befer tha boat made inta the harbour, some idjit with a lorry load o' tobacco got caught by tha customs. Tha whole bloody area wa' flooded wit' cops an' we ended up o' all places round tha back o' tha cop shop..." She slipped a hand inside the open neck of his shirt, her palm covering his left breast, her long fingers massaging the sculpted muscle as she continue with her tale.
"I'd told ya befer about me one stay in gaol, how I had got beaten up by a couple o' proddie girls. I swear tha bastids put me in a cell wit' tham knowing whot would happen. And ya said, I needed a new memory." She ran the tip of her tongue over the lobe of his ear and was delighted by the way he shuddered.
"Ya shoved me back against the wall and unbuttoned me coat…" She removed her hand just enough so as to be able to flick the buttons of his shirt open. "And pulled me jeans down about me ankles..." Nimble fingers jerked his belt buckle free and let the zipper down on his pants. "And then…" Her fingers walked their way down his belly and inside his exposed underpants.
And that was when the BMW skidded off the blacktop and came to a stop half-hidden amongst the undergrowth at the side of the road.
"Mi-chael!" His large hands cupped her cheeks and pulled her roughly into a passionate kiss which near took her breath away. When he finally let her go, he stroked a hand down her cheek and over her breast.
"And then…" he gulped.
"And then ya gave me sommit else to think about whenever I had ta visit Derry."
"And now…?" There was a rough edge to his voice as his hands cupped her breasts over the material of her top.
"An' now it's time to make some more memories." She shoved him back hard enough that she drove the air from his lungs. "Cuz right then ya had me hold our guns while you turned me about -"
The memory of pushing her against the cold bricks, pushing into her while they were hidden away…went straight to the root of him and he gasped a breath as she pulled the waistband of his boxers down as low as could with him semi reclined in his seat. The red headed siren leaned over the gear stick to take him all the way into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his hardening length as she led him towards heaven.
She stopped suddenly and smiled up at him. "D'ya remember driving away from Benny's, yar foot on tha gas while me mouth wa' on…"
And she swallowed him down to the base and hummed, reveling into the deep groan of desire that tore from his lips. It had been so long since they could both let go, and this was truly letting go. Out in the open in a stolen car, every single feeling was heightened, every nerve singing out in a pleasure overload. She could barely remember the last time they took such a risk.
His fingers were in her hair, gripping and pulling as his breath became more ragged. She could taste him and, when she took a breath of her own, she was surrounded by his musky scent. He tensed, bucking underneath her, the play of his thigh muscles still encased in soft denim rubbing against the palms of her hands, and when he came, she felt a warmth spread deep inside as she nearly followed him into bliss.
Kissing her way up his heaving chest, she gazed up at him.
"Now it's your turn." She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips which still tasted of him.
The tousled haired Irish firecracker laughed at his confused look; so with a little bit of maneuvering she got him to change places with her.
"Now I drive and you talk. Tell me a story, Michael. Tell me about - tell me why ya really followed me thot first night in Miami."
"Fi, I… Fiona…" Whatever he was about to say had to wait as for a few seconds, as it was all he could do to hold on as the hellcat behind the wheel sent the car into reverse to get it out of the bushes and back on the road. Once all four wheels were back on the black top, she stamped down hard on the accelerator, making the engine roar its complaints about such treatment into the wind.
"Do you need me to start you off?" she smirked... "I'd helped you out with your F.B.I problem, without having to set fire to anybody mind you, and you'd promised me a meal in return." She took a sharp bend, the back of the high performance car fishtailing viciously as she fought with the steering wheel and the poor grip quality of four badly worn tires.
"No! No, Fi..." She wasn't sure if it was her driving or that he didn't need any more prompting. But nonetheless he gave up on straightening his clothes and moved over in the passenger seat until he was pressed up to her side, drapingan arm over her shoulders.
"We had a nice meal at that little Japanese place on -" He stopped as her hand landed on his thigh, swallowed thickly and started again, finally getting what she wanted as her finger nails pressed into his leg.
"I missed you, I missed the way you smelled, your scent…it's…." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I knew I'd made a mistake and since I put your tracker in your phone, I came looking for you to say I was sorry."
"You missed my scent?" The smirk stayed in place. He was really bad at this…"What else did you miss about me, Michael?" But then he surprised her when he next spoke.
"Everything... When you're not by my side, I miss everything about you. But I didn't know it back then. Back then, I just knew I had to find you."
His lips found her cheek again, while his free hand found the hem of her skirt, walking up the soft silky skin of her inner thigh.
"When I walked in that bar, I was ready to shoot that guy pawing at you."
His fore finger edged under the lace of her French cut knickers, brushing against the warm wet flesh of her folds. "But it was more entertaining watching you put him down... You were mad that night."
His mouth latched onto her throat sucking and licking, while his finger slipped inside her hot, tight sheath. "I thought we were going to have to fight our way out."
His breath was like a balm caressing her freshly ravished throat, the flood of sensations distracting her from the task of keeping the car on the road. Had they really slipped so far? Her foot eased off the gas pedal as her lover added a second finger between her legs, the friction making her limbs tremble and her brain momentarily white out.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked huskily. as one finger found the little bundle of nerves deep inside her.
"Dontcha dare..." she managed to gasp, shifting in the seat to give him more access, getting the decelerating vehicle off the road somehow. The fresh air, the danger and the roughness of the palm she was grinding against all adding to the euphoria that she rode all the way up before coming back down into a soft cushion of ecstasy and bringing the Beamer to a stop.
Michael pulled her into his arms, pressing hundreds of gossamer soft kisses on her face as she took back control over her body.
"If we keep doing this, we'll never make it home in one piece." He stroked her cheek and gently tried to rearrange her wind swept hair.
"It donnae matter now, we're here," she sighed as her heart rate finally started slow.
"Here?" He looked out, but in the pitch black of the landscape, he couldn't see what she meant.
"Where are we, Michael?"
Frowning he looked again. Then, in the distance, he could just make out the line of a high fence and on the other side of the fence, a large structure reaching up into the sky.
"It's the junkyard I took you to that night."
"Yes, it is." Moving with a purpose, Fiona got back behind the wheel of the car and drove the last half mile to the exact place where he had broken in before.
"Were you ever in Belfast at this time of year?" she asked as she got out of the car and picked up the bag of supplies.
"Yeah, sure... Fi, what are we doing out here? I thought –?"
"When I was growing up, after we moved to that house off the Falls Road, this time of year we used to play a game."
He followed her to the gap in the fence and held the chain link back so she could slip inside the perimeter and then joined her. Now, he could make out ten wrecked cars piled up one on top of the other, making a rather unsteady looking tower.
"Tha Protestants would gather up all tha wood they could find or steal and on tha night of tha twelfth, they would light tha fires ta commemorate tha victory of thar William of Orange over tha Catholic King James... Is any o' this coming back ta ya?"
He nodded, a little sadness creeping into his expression as he thought of the violence he had witnessed on the streets during the marching season.
"Well, a lot of us kids used to get together and go out and steal the wood the other side had stocked up. Every year we'd find a way past their sentries and what we couldn't take, we'd destroy."
She searched through the bag and brought out the thermite and several blocks of C-4.
"Then tha year after me brother Pat wa' murdered, Colin came up with this wonderful idea."
She began placing the pieces of C-4 under a line of junked cars near the unstable looking tower.
"So, instead o' goin' after tha wood, we went out stealing tha cars belonging ta all the firemasters and thar seconds and took tham ta a scrapyard. It wa' tha dead of night, so nobody wa' thar. Then Colin had got hold of the instructions ta work tha crane and we piled tha Orange men's cars one on top o' tha other and then me and Sean placed a very special bomb in tha one at tha base o' tha tower."
"Fiona, how in hell did you do this? Does the guy who owns this place know what you're planning?"
"I paid him a load o' money ta let me have his scrapyard fer tha night and fer ham ta leave tha cars just as ya see 'em. Tis fine, Michael. Now let me get back ta me story."
Before he could stop her, the petite redhead had stuck one more block of explosive in the junker at the bottom of the pile and then, standing on tip toe, added the thermite slightly higher up.
"We need ta stand back... A long way back..." she added. "When the bomb went off, it was heard all over Belfast... Liam threw a fit. I think he mighta killed tha lot o' us, but Claire talked him down... She came out wit' har biology course work an' demanded he help har learn tha circulatory system."
She held up a trigger switch and then dropped it in to her husband's hand.
"Give me fireworks, Michael."
Sucking in a deep breath, her spouse did as she asked.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! A series of explosions blew each of the cars in the line-up into the air before sending them crashing back down to earth and then the final massive BOOM which caused the ground under their feet to shake as the tower made of broken wrecks lit up the night sky before toppling over, scattering burning twisted metal all over the ground.
More explosions went off as the vehicles continued to burn and, when Michael looked into his lover's eyes, he saw the woman he had first fell in love with, a hard, fiery, crazy paramilitary with a good heart and who was far better than he deserved.
"Isn't it beautiful, Michael?" Her blue green eyes shone with delight as she gazed at the chaos she had created.
"You're beautiful." He caught hold of her arm, wanting nothing more at that moment than to possess his flame haired goddess.
At his touch, Fiona threw herself into his arms, their mouths crashing together, tongues swirling and dancing in a battle. Seconds later, she had peeled his unbuttoned shirt off his arms and tossed it onto the ground, shortly afterwards her own top was discarded too, the heat all around them only adding to the heat they were creating between them.
"Come with me," Fiona commanded, taking her dark haired lover's hand, pulling and dragging him across the yard, dodging the smaller fires which burnt brightly, the bare skin of her upper body glowing in the light.
On the other side of the junkyard, waiting just inside the tall metal gates, was a shiny new black stretch limousine with dark tinted windows.
"I thought we'd go to a hotel, or back to -"
"And waste all these lovely fireworks? No, we're nae fleeing the law this time and yer nae going any whar tonight, Michael Westen... Yer all mine till mornin'."
"And the limo…?"
"Our home away fram home fer tonight... Do ya nae remember I told ya I'd never done it in a limo befer?"
The memories flooded back, dancing with her at that downtown nightclub, driving back to the loft as quickly as the speed limits would allow, coming back home from chasing down everyone on the NOC list, everyone but Kessler, who was dug in down in Caracas…
"Go get tha bag and find tha Reddi-Whip, Michael," she instructed, pulling the limo keys from her pocket. She had called in a lot of markers with Marcus Dwyer tonight, including keeping the police from investigating her little fireworks show. Amazing what privacy a little permit could buy. "Ya can start wit' dessert if ya want another piece o' thot pie ya had at me twenty eighth birthday..."
Mr. Westen stood there stock still for a moment, getting lost in the past. He remembered that night for all sorts of reasons, but mostly because it was less than a week later that all hell had broken loose when Fiona Glenanne had discovered Michael McBride was just a carefully crafted lie.
By the time he had returned with the bag and their discarded clothing, Fiona had disappeared into the car. Staring at the large vehicle, the former covert operative was reminded of his youth. Sex in a car had been a regular occurrence back in the day, but now that he was older with better options...
The car door opened and a slender toned limb appeared.
"Michael, why are you keeping me waiting? Didn't I give you enough fireworks?"
She stepped out into the open, naked as the day she was born, her long hair a tousled mess. Coming to a stop in front of him, she wordlessly reached up to wrap her arms about his neck before sealing her lips over his. They both smelt of cordite and fires, chaos and mayhem as she pressed her bare skin against his clothed body.
"I miss this," she whispered into his ear. "I've missed you." Her hands were pushing down his pants and he didn't try to stop her this time.
"I've been here the whole time, Fi." Though admittedly, standing completely exposed in a junkyard in the middle of the night surrounded by burning debris was not something he'd have normally considered.
"No, tha man who would blow up a junkyard cuz I asked him too hasn't been around for a while." She brazenly stroked along the length of his manhood. "But not anymore…"
"Well, he's har now, luv." The smile which lit up his face and the way his hands gripped her waist and then snaked around her body told her that her old Irish lover was back. When they kissed this time, it was harder, faster, more reckless than they had been for months, their bodies melding together naturally as he pushed her backwards to the more comfortable back seat of the luxury car.
Settling her quickly across the large expanse of black leather, Michael's mouth latched onto hers, his tongue sliding over her teeth while his hands slid up the backs of his wife's silken thighs, spreading her limbs apart and then pushing into her warm moist center in one long merciless slide that had her groaning with desire. Fiona wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed tight.
"No holding back, Michael," she panted, her eyes bright with lust.
The dark haired man did as he was bid, droving into her with wild abandon, using his elbows to steady himself, while he kissed her passionately, his lips a hot brand over her face and neck. If they had dared to take to the back seat of a car back in Belfast, it would have been like this, their bodies crashing together in a quest to satisfy their craving for one another. They soared to the heights of heaven together before he collapsed atop his wife, their trembling frames intertwined as they tried to slow their breathing, the fever heat of their sweat slicked skin still burning.
Eventually, her lover slowly shifted into a sitting position, pulling his beloved into his lap and they rested there, enjoying the silence, basking in the warmth of their closeness and the feel of supple skin over hard muscle now completely relaxed.
"I'm sorry I doubted you," he muttered the words into her tangled hair. "Anybody who could arrange a night like this and keep it secret and secure doesn't need me micro managing them."
She shifted in his arms, so she could look into his eyes. "I'll remind you of that next time I want to take Glenn for a walk around the park."
"Thank you, Fi... This was…" Michael was clearly at a loss for words.
"Who said the night was over? We need somewhere to shower off. I'm not going back to the boat looking like this," she declared with a laugh. "I have a key to a room at that motel we stayed at last time we visited this place."
"Fi…" He breathed her name. "You really do think of everything."
"And don't you forget that either. Besides, we haven't got to use the Reddi-Whip just yet. Don't tell me you're not hungry for pie?" She filled the sentence with innuendo, arching an eyebrow. "Thar wa' a time we woulda spent all day in tha bed. Ya couldnae keep yar hands off me."
"I still have that problem." He gently squeezed one soft pliant breast, flashing his teeth in a grin when she gasped at his touch. "Let me find our clothes and I'll show you just how hungry I am."
And he did too in that small motel half way back to Miami.
And when the lovers returned to the Easy Peasy the next morning, no one had to ask how their night had gone or if their friends had resolved their marital issues. The only question left was whether they were going scuba diving off the coast of Miami or if a quick trip to Key West was in order.