* * *
Just Another Day
by Edmondia Dantes

Disclaimer: Whoever said they were mine was smoking something they shouldn't have been.

AN: I am soooooooooooooooooooo random sometimes...

* * *

It was another lovely morning.

It was always a lovely morning, now that he thought about it.

One of these days he would really have to arrange for rain or something, because as lovely and Eden-like their home sweet home was, some of the Children needed a good drenching.  One they couldn't run away from.  Perhaps it should rain inside the castle.

Oh wait, old humans hanging about.  Creaking bones affected by the damp and all.

Perhaps it should rain in only certain parts of the castle.  And not outdoors.

Perhaps he should just have little centralized downpours over every single Child with an attitude problem.  Oh wait, that was... all of them.  A general downpour would be more effective, really.  Or maybe he could just toss them all into the ocean.  That would be fun.  Most of them didn't know how to swim.

Of course, if he did that, Coyote would reek for days.  Strange, with all of his powers, the kid still couldn't entirely erase his canine roots.

Hmm.  Pretty sky today.  Looked rather like Titania's eyes.

He wandered out onto the balcony, watching the fluffy clouds go by, somewhat sleepily amused by the fact Raven had fallen asleep cuddled against a pretty (and currently stoned) young gargoyle.  Grandmother was going to kill him.  Although, now that he thought of it, he'd heard rumors of Grandmother running off with a strapping young warrior several centuries ago...

Ah, morning, glorious morning.

Oberon yawned.

Hangovers, glorious hangovers.  He knew for a fact that a pile of currently snoring drunks, twelve people deep, was sprawled out in the middle of the great hall.  Once the light began to slide through the crystal windows, they were screwed.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Titania turn over, mumble something into the covers, and yank a pillow over her head.  The doors behind him slammed shut with a resounding thud.

Sometimes she didn't like mornings.  Fortunately, he knew how to perk her up, without being in danger of having his head removed.

Cappechino, the savior of hapless husbands everywhere.

He'd made her breakfast in bed a few weeks ago, and it took much ducking and dexterity to avoid all the things she threw at him, for, quote, "My lord, it's just TOO DAMN EARLY FOR THIS!"

Of course, when he'd actually waved the lovely cup from Starbuck's under her nose, she'd shut up, grabbed the coffee, and smiled very prettily at him before downing the whole thing in one chug and immediately demanding another.

Ah, the things we do for love.

He idly folded his arms behind his head and leaned back against the dawn-warmed stones.  It would be a nice day.

It was about that time when the air in front of him rippled, stretched, and dropped several people at his feet.




"I beg your pardon."

"Shove it!"

Oberon raised an eyebrow.

Elisa Maza, some fuzzy black thing that he suspected was her brother, a girl that could only be her sister, and what were probably her parents.  And pinned underneath them all was an extremely disgruntled looking Owen Burnett.

Now that was strange.  The Puck knew better than to openly violate a law.  Especially a personalized one.  So... good heavens, for once there was something that wasn't his fault!  He vaguely wondered if that was a sign of the Apocalypse.

The mother looked up, her dark eyes widening.  "Oh my..."

The father blinked several times, gaping up at him, while the fuzzy thing's fanged mouth hung open.  Elisa, for her part, just looked confused.  The sister's eyes had gotten very large indeed.  Equal parts intrigue, confusion, and fear fuzzed the air.

All this, and they were still squishing his best trickster.

He thought about throwing him out immediately, but it was rare to see him caught in such a situation.  He looked ridiculous.  And pissed.  Aww.  Poor baby.  Amazing how he could pull off the combination of put upon-ness, homicidal rage, and a childish pout, all without changing his blank expression.

Oberon laughed aloud.  "What in the world are you doing here?" he managed between chuckles.

The Puck glowered up at him from a disconcertingly mortal face.  "Oh, shut up."

* * *

Beth Maza was a perfectly rational person.

She knew the man towering over her wasn't human.  Blue skin was kind of a dead giveaway.  And the pointy ears, those helped too.  Not to mention that white hair on an otherwise youngish-looking being was also kinda weird.

She was suddenly struck by an odd thought.  Long loose messy hair, barefoot, loose pants that had a college logo on the side and a tee-shirt that looked suspiciously like silk.

Is he in his jammies?

* * *

~Jammies?~  he thought incredulously.  Could you possibly get any more undignified than 'jammies'?

~Well, you are...~

He rolled his eyes.  ~Jammies.  How positively droll.~

~Sarcastic in the morning, ain't 'cha?~

~Enunciate,~ he scolded absentmindedly.

~Righteo, daddo.~  No human should ever wear an evil grin like that.

Le sigh.

* * *

The fairy king was laughing at them.

Elisa hoped that was a good sign.

Then he was giving someone underneath her a weird look.

Oh, crappity crap crap crap.  And, just for the record, crap.

How could she miss that sun-bright blond hair in the mass of dark-haired (and furred) Mazas?

Err... under the mass of dark-haired (and furred) Mazas.

Huh.  Hey...  Could he breathe?

* * *

Talon sat up and rubbed his head.  His fur crackled and stood on end.  He grimaced.  (There's nothing quite like bed-head when you have fur all over your body.  Makes you look like a porcupine.  Not to mention anyone who touches you gets a brand new afro, for free!)

Hmm.  Big flash of light, big whoosh of sound, big thud as they hit the ground, and now someone very tall (who really didn't look human at all, now that he actually was paying attention) was laughing quite elegantly at them.

Who the hell laughed elegantly?

His dear sweet sister pinched his fur and hissed, "That's Oberon, so be polite."

Okay.  Oberon.  Oberon.

Non-human guy named Oberon.


Well... oh!  Like in Shakespeare!

Like as in a really damn big elf who looked like he could bench press Elisa's freaking Fairlane.  Who was snickering.  And giving them a look that varied somewhere between amused, annoyed, and unreadable.

It was turning out to be a bad morning.

* * *

He didn't know who the hell the big guy was, but he was feeling more than a little grumpy after the carnival ride from hell, and so could be excused for his somewhat loud declaration of, "Where the HELL are we?"

He... said hell three times in that sentence.  Naughty language!  His wife would not be pleased.

The big guy cast him a look that was vastly amused.

Birds chirped.  Brooks babbled.  The breeze rustled through the trees.  Some clouds drifted in the sky.  The sun shone pleasantly.

Gosh.  What a nice day.

Peter Maza felt a little bit weird because his daughter had buried her head in her hands and groaned just loud enough for him to hear, "That's the king of the third race, dad.  Be good."

Third race?  Like Coyote?

And this big blue guy was the king?

He mentally skipped merrily past embarrassment and slip-slided his way straight into humiliation.

When, wonder of wonders, his marvelous, fabulous, ever so perfect wife disentangled herself from her family, stood up gracefully, and swept a pretty curtsy.

"Sorry to disturb you," she said politely.

* * *

Idiot husband.  The battle cry of the exceptionally-ticked-off-wife, though unspoken, did not run unfelt through the little group.

Buried in a mound of silken cushions and sheets, Titania mumbled drowsily, "My thoughts exactly."

* * *

"Not at all," he picked up smoothly, inclining his head towards the only one who seemed to have any idea of appropriate behavior.  Standards.  Where had they all gone?

~Suuuuure.  This coming from the guy who's standing on the balcony in his jammies.  Ow!  Damn idiot kitten!~

Talon looked sheepishly at Owen, but didn't apologize.

Oberon smirked.  After all, the other four were still sitting on the Puck.  And bruising his ribs, it looked like.  That wouldn't do.

He tilted his head down, reminded of why he wore the ponytail.  Pretty and fun to play with it might be, but his hair tended to fall into his face when not restrained.  While that had been perfectly acceptable back in the sixties, (and who really needed to see with their eyes, anyway?) now it was just annoying.  "Can you breathe?"

Bright blue eyes narrowed.  "With difficulty."

It took less than a second to sweep him up, dust him off, and plop him back down.  He still squirmed just like he had when he was a little boy. Damn paternal instincts.

Owen Burnett sent him a perfectly affronted look, straightening his tie neatly. ~And I'm how old nowadays?~

The four people who suddenly found themselves sprawled out on the ground looked somewhat shocked, then annoyed, angry, and tired.

If this hadn't been so amusing, he would have been annoyed at the disturbance of his perfectly good morning.

Ignoring the fact that he had been doing nothing more than deciding whether or not to make it rain, he plucked up the others and set them on their feet.  Without touching them.  The fuzzy one smelled like electricity, and the others... bleah.  They smelled like travelers who had driven in a VW bug for six days straight, chowed down on fast food the whole time, and forgot to take a change of clothes along.  Interestingly, Elisa smelled strongly of Goliath.  He wondered if her father knew about that.

Huh.  Fun things to tell his darling lady wife whenever she hauled herself out of bed.

"So, um, your highness," the sister-girl managed an awkward curtsy.  "Uh... sorry about dropping in on you like this."

He drummed his fingers against his arms idly.  "Yes..." he purred pleasantly, ignoring the fact that all the child had done was imitate her mother, "Why are you here, precisely?"

An irritated look flashed across her pretty face.  "Because my brother's a big dope and doesn't know when to leave well enough alone."

"Hey!"  The fuzzball protested.

She stuck out her tongue.  "It's true, dummy."

"You're the dummy!"


"Elisa, tell her she's the dummy!"

"You're both dummies."

Dear sweet Avalon.  Mortals did it too.  He suddenly had much more respect for those parents.

~Just like you and the three,~ he commented to the quiet man who had unobtrusively perched himself on the railing like he belonged there.  Which, of course, he did.  But, of course, he shouldn't.

Or something like that. Whatever.

Owen wrinkled his nose and looked tempted to do the same as Beth Maza had just done.


The mighty mother speaketh, everyone else shutupeth.

"Beth, Derek?"

"Sorry, mom,"  they mumbled in a chorus.

~Nix that last thought.  You four never apologized.~

~I did too!~



"That's what I thought."

Owen shrugged.  ~Smug bastard.~

"Apologize to the king."  The tone was as frosty as the color of his hair.  The children had not yet escaped the wrath of Mom.

They looked away, shuffled their feet, twisted their fingers in a knot, and muttered insincere apologies.

~You should too.~  Oberon admonished.

~Moi?  Why?~  Had he been in his true form, he would be pulling the big sparkly anime eyes. Oberon hated many things in the world, and the big sparkly anime eyes were pretty damn close to the top of that list.

~You call me names.  I'm hurt.~  Sarcasm.  Lovely stuff.

~Boorish oaf.~

~Insufferable brat.~

~Smurf on steroids.~

~Effeminate pipsqueak.~

~At least I never wore braids.~

~You wear a skirt.~

~I saw you wearing a dress once.~

~Bah.  You wore one too.  Besides, you wear purple.~

~Purple is too a Manly Color.~

~Ah, yes, but what kind of man?~

~Speaking of which, about those boots you're so fond of...~

~You go too far.~

~I think you have issues. What was your mother like?~

~A certified lunatic, and well you know it.~

~Unfortunately. Um...~

His eyes narrowed. "Um..." was not a happy sound. "Um..." was a sound that said, "Hullo then, just blew up Canada, am going out drinking now, see ya in a few centuries then."


It was very, very unkingly to squeak. Therefore, he did not do anything of the sort. However, the expression that crossed his face could best be likened to 'abject terror'.


~Um... yeah?~ came the nervous reply.

~I kicked you out, right?~

A pause and a furrowed brow. ~Riiiiight...~

~So that you'd never come back here again?~

~I believe the phrase of choice involved 'eternal banishment' or some such nonsense.~

~Ah. Consider that revoked.~


~Run to the closest Starbucks, buy 2 large cappechinos, and get back here as quickly as possible.~

An even longer pause. ~...what?~

~Titania needs caffine in the morning. I need to provide her with caffine. I cannot leave this island at this present point in time.~

~Why not?~

~Because I'm in my jammies, dammit!~

Burnett's face twitched oddly as the Puck repressed a smile. ~Sure thing. Skedaddling as we speak.~

True to his word, he was gone.




 Awed silence.

 And a voice that contained both the harmonies of the angels and the foulest snarls of demons spake. And the words it did speak, lo, were great and terrible, and those who beheld the vision that did speak them were much amazed.

"Oberon, where the HELL is my coffee?!"

Witness, if you will, a beautiful summer morning on an island of eternal delights. Witness the serenity and calmness of nature at its purest. Witness the most powerful being on earth cowering behind a mortal man. (But please, call it a 'strategic retreat' if you want to continue breathing.)

Indeed, a glorious day had dawned.

* * *

And in the middle of Starbuck's, Owen Burnett threw back his head and laughed.

* * *

The End.

AN: I own those jammie pants. They're from Notre Dame. Feedback?

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