Dedications: First, this is dedicated to Spazzie, for the...intriguing challenge. Second, to all the wonderful readers/authors out there who give me such lovely feedback on my stories. You guys keep me writing!

More Notes: I know there are going to be people (at least on the RAC list) who are wondering why this story is only going to be R. I can hear them now. "Michael+Maria+food products of any kind= NC-17, right? What the *&%#!" LOL! Sorry, folks! I could come up with a zillion smutty ideas for this, but I prefer to go clean cut just now!

Now, on to the story......

*******

"DAMMIT!"

Maria looked up from the chocolate cake she was frosting, startled by the exclamation from the living room. "Michael!" she called. "You all right!?"

There was a pause, then the aforementioned alien came stumbling through the kitchen door. Maria couldn't hold in a snort of laughter at his appearance. His normally rumpled shirt was even MORE rumpled-- in fact, ripped-- and his normally spiky hair was standing out in all directions. The look in his eyes was panicked.

"That child is demon spawn," he told her.

Maria shook her head and went back to frosting the cake. "No he isn't, Michael," she informed him. "He's my cousin."

"And the difference is?"

She glared at him, but had to look away quickly. She just couldn't stay mad when the sheer sight of him made her want to burst into peals of laughter. "What did Eddie do now?" she asked.

Michael moved further into the kitchen-- running his fingers through his hair to put it back in some semblance of semi-order-- and began going through the cupboards. "He decided he was going to take a piggy back ride," he grumbled, rifling through boxes and jars. "Using me as the piggy's back, of course."

"Of course."

"When I told him no, he threw a hissy fit."

"I think it's called a tantrum in children of six."

"Hissy-fit, tantrum, whatever, same difference. Either way, he wasn't going to take no for an answer."

Maria nodded. "He is a tenacious little kid."

Michael looked over his shoulder at her in disbelief. "Tenacious? TENACIOUS? The word doesn't do him justice! Stubborn as hell, maybe. Vicious, definitely! You ever watch Smackdown?"

Maria shrugged, eyes never leaving her cake. "Maybe. If I'm REALLY bored."

"The kid would give Cain a run for his money."

She raised an eyebrow in appreciation. "I'll be sure to tell my aunt," she said. "I'm sure she'll be SO proud."

"He's got one hell of a sleeper hold," Michael added, finally pulling down a box of strawberry Pop Tarts from the top shelf of his current cupboard. Hopping up on the counter, he ripped open one of the silver foil packets with his teeth while simultaneously reaching into his jeans pocket to produce a bottle of Tabasco sauce. "How the hell does he keep that hidden in such tight jeans?" Maria wondered to herself, intrigued by the possibilities.

"So where's the little whippersnapper now?" she asked, glancing at him.

He doused half a Pop-Tart with the pepper sauce, and took a huge bite. "I lef' him in de wivin' woom," he said around the mouthful. "Watchin' NYPD Bwue o' somefin'"

"God, do you think you could maybe learn to SWALLOW before you speak?" she muttered. "That was something I did NOT need to see." Suddenly, his muffled words worked into her mind. "Wait, did you say NYPD Blue"

Michael nodded. "Yup." He swallowed.

"You numbskull!" she yelled, rounding on him, frosting knife pointing at his chest. "He's six years old! He's not supposed to be watching NYPD Blue!"

Michael shrugged. "Sorry!" he said, all innocence. "When I came over here tonight, I figured we could just sit down, maybe check out "Austin Powers" on HBO, have a little fun..." He trailed off at her blush, grinning wickedly. "I sure as HELL didn't expect to be ambushed by six year olds with sharp teeth and the muscles of a blacksmith."

"I told you I had to babysit Eddie!"

"You didn't tell me Eddie hadn't had his rabies shots yet!"

She glared at him. "You're contributing to the corruption of a minor," she scolded.

He grinned.

"Smug son-of-a...." Returning his grin with an even smugger one of her own, she called over her shoulder, "Oh, Eddie! Come here, munchkin!" The look of utter terror in Michael's eyes was well worth the effort.

"You wouldn't?" he breathed.

She raised an eyebrow. The sound of little pattering feet could already be heard in the hallway. "Wouldn't I?"

He cast the doorway a deer-in-the-headlights look, then bolted.

She'd never realized he could move that fast. One second, he was sitting on the counter, the next, he was gone, and the louvered door to the broom closet in the corner of the kitchen was slamming shut with a resounding CRASH!

"Mawia?" She turned and looked down at her little bespectacled cousin, Eddie.

"Hey there, munchkin!" she enthused, bending down to give the little boy a hug. He was thin as a twig, and virtually disappeared in her arms. "Are you having fun?"

He nodded furiously. "Wheh's Michael?" he asked. "I wanna pway cops and wobbers."

Maria could almost feel the fear emanating from the broom closet. She forced herself not to laugh. "Michael had to go home," she said, smoothing her cousin's hair. "He said he'd come see you again, though!" "Can't have him getting TOO comfortable!"

Eddie gave her a near toothless smile. "When's momma comin' back?" he asked.

"Your momma's gone to Albequerque with your Aunty Amy," she told him. "They'll be back tomorrow night. Till then, it's you and me kid!"

"Yippee!" He squirmed in her arms. "I wove you, Mawia!"

She giggled. "I love you too, Eddie." She looked at the clock. 8:30. "But it is WAY past your bedtime." She ignored his little protests and stood up, taking his hand. "Let's get you ready for bed, shall we?"

"Do I have to take a baff?"

"Yes, you have to take a bath."

"But I don' wanna!"

She led him out the door and towards the bathroom. "Come on, Eddie. Personal hygiene is very important. Some people still haven't learned that!" she called back over her shoulder. "Let him stew over THAT for a while!"

******

When she came back half an hour later, she was shocked to find everything just as she had left it. The cake was undisturbed, the Pop-Tarts still only a quarter eaten on the counter. Even the bottle of Tabasco sauce was there.

And the closet door was cussing.

"Dammit! What the hell? Open, you friggin thing!" It rattled on it hinges.

Maria listened for a second, then cracked up.

Michael must have heard her, because he stopped shaking the door. "Maria? Finally. Where have you been? Get me the hell out of here!"

"W-why can't you?" she gasped as she laughed. "Use your....your powers or something!"

"I would," he told her, and she could just SEE his teeth clenching. "But if I do, I might just blow out half your kitchen wall! I'd rather not do that." The door started rattling again.

Eyes still blurred and teary from laughing, Maria stumbled across the room and took hold of the door handle. Turning it, she felt the door sweep open as he slammed his shoulder against it, and the pair of them went careening across the kitchen, Maria's arms pinwheeling, until the two of them collapsed against the counter, knocking over her chocolate cake. They slumped to the floor, and the double-decker fudge creation fell on top of them.

They just sat there for a minute, dazed.

Then, Maria started laughing again.

"Yeah, this is REALLY funny," Michael complained, glaring at her through a thick layer of chocolate and frosting. "Look at us!"

Maria couldn't stop guffawing.

"We look like rejects from Candy Land!"

She kept on laughing.

Eventually, Michael started chuckling, too. "You do look kind of cute in fudge," he told her, laughing a little harder. "It really suits you."

Soon enough, they were both doubled over with laughter, Maria's face buried in Michael's shoulder, and his likewise buried in her hair, to muffle the sound and not wake the sleeping six year old down the hall.

Finally, the laughter eased, and they sat there, breathing hard, totally spent. "My...God.." Maria gasped. "I....need...air...!" She giggled.

"Me...too...!"

They sat for a while longer, until they'd both recovered some breath. Then, Michael stood, and helped Maria up. "What a fine mess we are," he said.

She looked herself, and then him, up and down, and groaned. "Oh, great," she moaned. "Look at this shirt! I paid thirty bucks for this shirt, and now its ruined!"

"You can always get another one."

"But it's not THIS one!"

He rolled his eyes, then started to take off his own shirt.

Maria's eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed.

He looked at her, puzzled. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to go take a shower."

"You can't take a shower here!"

"Why not?"

"What if Eddie wakes up? How am I supposed to explain this to my Aunt Cecily when he tells her some "Micheal" guy was taking a shower here tonight!?"

"Well, what do you expect me to do?"

"Go HOME and take a shower!"

"I am NOT walking home covered in chocolate cake!"

"Then we're at an impasse!"

"I guess so!"

There was silence for a long minute.

"Maybe," Michael added.

Maria shot him a look. "Whaddaya mean, 'maybe?'"

He gave her a wicked smile, and finished pulling off his shirt. "There are funner ways to get off chocolate cake than showers." He advanced on her slowly.

Maria backed up against the counter, standing on her tiptoes, as if that could get her farther away. Not that she WANTED to get farther away.... "What do you mean?" she asked, all innocence.

Michael didn't say anything. His arms came down on either side of her, pinning her back against the counter. "You'll see," he whispered, before his head dipped down, and his tongue ran up her neck, taking away some of the crumbs and frosting that had molded to her.

Maria sighed with pleasure, and worked her arms around his shoulders. She wouldn't mind cleaning HIM up a little, but just now...this was TOO good to pass up.

But still....

"We shouldn't do this here," she murmured, much as she hated to break the mood.

He straightened up, and looked down into her eyes. "Why not?"

Maria bit her lip, and her eyes went to the kitchen door. "He might...want a glass of water," she posited.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Eddie Schmeddie," he growled. "That kid is going to be the death of me." He started to pull back, but she grabbed him and held him close.

"I said we shouldn't do this HERE," she purred. "I didn't say we shouldn't do this at ALL."

He watched her for a second, then grinned. "So where should we go?"

She pushed him back a little, then took his hand and started to lead him to the door. "I was thinking...my room...a little mood music...dim lighting...." She sidled up close to him. "Maybe get online, check out some of those slightly more ADULT chatrooms..." She trailed off, letting her eyes tell the rest.

Michael must have heard, because now HE was the one doing the leading.

Until they heard it.

Patter, patter, patter.

A horrified glance passed between them.

"Eddie!" Maria gasped.

"Demon kid!" Michael exclaimed.

There was a split second pause, then they leapt apart.

Michael flew back into the broom closet and slammed the door, leaving Maria standing all alone in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by chocolate cake, and looking very confused.

When Eddie came around the corner in his little footed pajamas, he took one look at the mess, and asked, "Wha' happened, Mawia?"

"Well, Michael was actually hiding in the broom closet earlier, and when I let him out, he stumbled into me, and we fell into the chocolate cake, and BOY, do you know how to RUIN a make-out session, kiddo!" "I had an accident," she said out loud.

Eddie nodded, and pointed to the floor beside her. "Wha's that?"

Maria looked. It was Michael's discarded t-shirt. "That's...uh, that's a rag I'm using to clean up this mess!" she exclaimed.

Eddie, bless his six year old heart, didn't ask anymore questions. "I wanna glass of watah," he murmured.

"Right!" She virtually leapt for the sink. Grabbing his sipper cup from the counter, she filled it, capped it, and handed it to him. "There you go. Now, can you carry that back to your room like a big boy?"

He nodded.

"Good Eddie. Now go back to bed, sweetie." She kissed him lightly on the forehead, and sent him off to bed.

Maria sucked in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm. Before she could let out a shriek of surprise, she found herself being pulled backwards, and then she was in the broom closet, with Michael pressed up against her chest.

"I'll teach you to call my best t-shirt a rag," he whispered, before grinding his lips down on hers in a very LONG kiss.

Eventually, he let her come up for air. Maria sucked in a breath, and then glared at him.

"Michael!" she hissed. "What are you doing!?"

"Making sure we don't get interrupted again," he whispered, leaning in to plunder her mouth once more.

She relished the feeling for a moment, then pushed him back. "We can't make out in a broom closet!"

"Why not?"

"Because, it's too small!"

"All the better to get close to you, my dear."

"Let's just go to my room, ok?"

He sighed. "All right." Like he'd pass this up.

Reaching for the doorhandle, Maria turned it.

The door didn't move.

She tried again. Nothing. She pushed and shoved. No effect.

Leaning back against the wall, she groaned. "We're stuck!"

Light filtered through the louvered door, and she could see Michael's sultry grin. "Oh well," he murmured, leaning in again.

"Michael! Michael, we can't! Mi...chael...." "Aww, to hell with it," she thought as his lips moved down her neck. "Just go with the flow."

Now, she just had to pray that the rattling noises coming from the broom closet didn't wake up Demon Child down the hall.