Chapter 20: Monopoly.
"Have I gone mad?"
"I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret; all the best people are."
-Linda Woolverton, Alice in Wonderland (2010 movie)
When both John and Jim were done their respective parts of the future Shepard's Pie, John held the bowl while Jim scraped the mashed potatoes on top of the filling. When Jim stole a fingerful of them, John flicked the side of his head.
"Hey! That isn't sanitary!"
"No, it's delicious," Jim said, and held out another fingerful for John to try. John rolled his eyes and leaned slightly forwards to lick the mashed potatoes off Jim's finger. They were, indeed, delicious. Damn. "And?" Jim prompted, looking smug. He already knew the answer, probably from John's sullen silence.
"They're good," John said shortly.
"Just good?" Jim said, sounding heartbroken.
"Fine, they're amazing," John admitted, and Jim grinned his Cheshire grin. John tried not to smile, but ended up grinning back, enjoying the exchange. They finished off the preparations, and put it into the oven to bake. Then they made their way into the living room, where Sammy was still watching the telly. "Time's up!" John said.
"Awww, just this one song. Let me finish it!" John and Jim looked at each other, both of them hoping that the other would make a decision. Neither of them said anything, and when the song finished, they were still staring at each other. The applause broke their concentration, and they both smiled, considering it a victory because they hadn't had to make a decision. John took up the remote and turned off the television.
"We've got half an hour before the Misfits get here. What do you want to do?" John asked.
"Play Monopoly!" Sammy said.
"We're not going to have enough time to finish…" John said, looking at the clock.
"We can judge who's won by who has the most money when the pie's done," Jim suggested. "And it's going to be me, by the way."
"It's a game of chance, not strategy, Jim," John said. "You can't be certain you're going to win."
"Watch me," said Moriarty with a smile.
"Good luck."
"I don't need it."
John went to get the Monopoly game, and arranged Sammy on the floor so that she could reach the pieces. The game began.
It was quite a bit of fun, really. Jim was so invested in the game, scowling when he had to give money to John or Sammy, laughing manically when they had to hand over money to him.
"Thank you, daddy," Sammy said, as John handed over the money he owed her. Jim's head snapped up and he looked at John incredulously. Sammy laughed at his expression, and it faded away into a grin as the game continued, as it faded from John's thoughts.
When the knock at the door came, the three of them looked at their piles of money. It was pretty obvious who had won; Jim so much money that it was in several piles, rather than one.
"Well, congrats, Jim. I'll give you an extra scoop of ice cream. Could you check dinner while I get the door? Sammy, you clean up the game. Thanks!" They all went to their tasks. John opened the door to find three Misfits standing outside. "Hello Leo, Jim, Socks," he said. Jim's ankle had gotten much better over the last few weeks, and he and Socks, a dark haired boy with unfortunate ears, had begun attending the meetings. John had been amused to discover that little-Jim liked Jim, and Jim had a favoritism for little-Jim. It was a rather odd arrangement, but there it was.
"Hello, John," they said.
"You're early, supper isn't out yet, but you can go into the living room. Sammy!" he yelled back inside. "The Golden Trio is here!" The three boys always worked together, which had earned them the nickname.
"Come in," Sammy called, and the three boys edged around John to dash into the living room and shout their hellos.
"Dinner has three minutes to go," Jim yelled from the kitchen. John went into the living room briefly, instructing Leo to get the door for the other Misfits, and then made his way into the kitchen.
"Anyone in particular who can't make it tonight?" he asked Jim, as they started pulling out cutlery, plates, and glasses.
"Randy, obviously. Trudy, Sam, Dean, Teresa, and Kathy are on jobs."
"Alright," John said, adjusting the number of glasses. "I'll set up the table for serving, you do the drinks." They did their separate jobs, and when they were done, there were a dozen kids in the living room, and dinner was ready. John took out the pie and put it on the table, then glanced around before taking another little fingerful of mashed potatoes. They really were quite exquisite... for a criminal mastermind.
One hour later, John and Jim were waving the kids off in groups of twos and threes, accepting hugs and kisses on the cheek. Once they were all gone, the two men returned to the living room. John rearranged Sammy's couch into a bed, and Jim began collecting dishes from the floor, where the kids had left them.
"Who do you want to put you to bed?" John asked, running a hand through Sammy's hair.
"I want you to brush my teeth, but Jim to tell me a story," said Sammy.
"Okay," said John, and went to pick her up.
"Wait," Sammy said. "I want to…" She hesitated, looking around for a second. Then she reached up to the arm of the couch, and slowly pulled herself up to standing. Like a toddler wobbling from object to object, she put a hand on the table and balanced. And then she let go, and took a tentative step. She winced, but nothing happened. She took another one, then turned back to John. "I can walk," she said, voice distant and amazed. John smiled weakly, doctor's eyes appraising her steps and posture. The constant exercises he'd been doing with her had paid off. She wasn't too weak from her weeks in bed. Although her back was obviously going to need some work.
"Yes, you can. It's amazing." It was, he realized, the first time he'd seen her upright. She had a completely unremarkable posture. Not slouched, not straight, but perfectly forgettable. Amazing. Jim had taught his Misfits well. Even their posture aided their undercover status. "You probably shouldn't push it, though. We'll add it to our exercises, but you shouldn't be walking around the house at this stage, alright?" And he scooped her into his arms. She laughed and put her arms around his neck.
"My knight in shining armor," she said, and hid her face in the curve of his neck and shoulder.
He carried her into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, helped her into her PJs, and let her lean on him as they made their way back. Then he went into the kitchen, trading spots with Jim at the sink. He washed the dishes as Jim's voice drifted faintly from the living room, not loud enough for John to hear the words, but loud enough to be a soothing undertone to the clatter of dishes in water, reminding him that he wasn't dealing with this on his own. And sure enough, several minutes on, Jim came to help, taking up his position to John's left to dry dishes.
"So, Sammy's calling you daddy now?" Jim said conversationally.
"She's been calling me that for almost a month," John said, passing him a bowl.
"Interesting. You do know, of course, that they refer to M as 'daddy' when they're undercover?"
"What?" John said, turning to face the criminal mastermind, who was watching him with a little smirk on his face.
"Yep. And she knows, by the way."
"Knows?"
"That I'm M."
"How? She didn't say anything to me, I didn't tell her," John said hurriedly, worried that Jim would be mad.
"She didn't say anything to me, either, but she knows. I'm surprised the others haven't guessed, frankly. You described me well enough." The criminal genius didn't sound mad, but John had seen enough of his calm-one-second, yelling-the-next transitions to be cautious.
"Right, yeah, sorry about that."
"It was worth hearing the stories you were telling. M the hero. It's… strange. Very strange."
"It's how they all see you," John said.
"Yes, I know. A shame, really. I'm sure you think it's horrible, only giving them part of the truth. It must kill you to only be able to tell one side of the story."
"Even if I did tell my side, they'd still trust you. They know about the time you blew up that police station, and they love you even more for it. Do you really think that realizing you kill innocent civilians would drive them away completely?" Moriarty was looking at him in a very strange way. "No, I'm completely serious here, I don't think it would."
"How optimistic of you," Moriarty said, skepticism clear in his voice.
"Alright, fine, whatever. Maybe one day you'll get to tell me 'I told you so,' or maybe some day I'll get to say it to you."
"Nobody has ever had the chance to say that to me," Jim said.
"Really? I'll be the first, I promise."
"I don't think so."
"I told you so. There, look, I was the first person to say it to you. I told you so."
"You didn't earn the first one, though. It's a paradox, it doesn't count," Jim said, and smacked John in the back of the head with his dish towel.
"Hey!" John retaliated by flicking his fingers at Jim, little droplets of water landing on his shirt. He made a shocked face that made John wince at the memories, then splashed John with an entire handful, soaking his jumper. "Jim!" John shouted quietly, trying not to wake Sammy in the next room. Jim just smiled, smugly. "Okay, fine, you're asking for it."
So John splashed Jim, and Jim splashed back, and soon no dishes were getting washed because the two men were too occupied with their water fight. The floor got wet, and John's socked feet slipped, and he went down. Jim laughed, and then offered him a hand. John took it, and pulled Jim down with him, snickering as he landed in a puddle.
"I won," John said, grinning.
"Did not," Jim said, pushing himself up. His hair hung down around his face, the hair gel washed out. "I got you down first, you cheater." John shrugged, looking around.
"I think the kitchen lost." There was a pause, as both men realized how much water there was everywhere. "Well, are you going to help me scrub the floor? We might as well do something useful with this mess." So the two of them got cloths and soap, and scrubbed John's floor, both of them still soaking wet.
"So, did I ever tell you why little-Jim decided to give Socks his name?" Jim asked. "I know you're curious."
"Yes, I am, no, you didn't," John said. So Jim talked while they scrubbed, and even though his jumper was soaked through with cold water, John felt oddly warm.
A/N: Well, I said I'd be back tomorrow, and here I am. Thanks for the two reviews that I got last chapter! Especially the one with onions, it made me laugh. Things are going very well for John and Jim and the Misfits right now. Will they stay that way? ...What do you think?
I might not have the chance to update during the week, but I'll be back next weekend. Although in the past, reviews HAVE convinced me to ignore my homework in favor of posting another chapter... (Dangles proverbial carrot in front of your nose)