A/N : One-shot silliness for Demona Evernight!

"Aiden!" the woman called out, hand on the doorframe, turned over her shoulder. "There's some people here to talk to you!"

She turned back only briefly to offer a wide, white-picket-fence-and-apple-pie smile to the two men standing outside her door. Her son, when he appeared, was just as All-American and handsome as his mother would suggest, broad-shouldered and well-built with floppy curtains of blonde hair and a varsity jacket, offering a broad, bleach-white smile.

"Hey" he said, "You guys from the football squad?"

The grin didn't fall, but a small spark of panic lit his eyes as the two men offered him a silent smile in unison that looked practiced and deeply unnerving. One young-looking but with long locks of wavy silver hair that betrayed more advanced age, the other taller and greyed at the temples, severe and senatorial. If they were from the squad he'd applied to join, then they probably weren't players themselves. Aiden stepped back just a little, swallowed.

"Can we come in?" the younger one asked, pleasant and slightly predatorial smile still in place, "We'd like to have a quiet word"

"You're not from the squad, are you?"

"Well identified," the older man said drily, stepped in and pushed ever so slightly harder than he needed to past Aiden. On the step, the younger man dropped his sharky smile, looked instead a little shocked

"Dad!" he hissed, "We didn't want to –" He stopped as the man, his father evidently, shot him a hard look. Sighed quietly, stepped in and closed the front door gently behind him. "Sorry about this"

"What'dyou guys want?!" Aiden stuttered, looked between the two, one still stern and the other now looking like he wished he hadn't thought this up in the first place, "Did I do something? Am I in trouble?"

"Not yet" the older man smiled, "Allow me to introduce us. I'm Erik Lensherr, you may have heard of me if you pay any attention to local politics. Or enjoy tales of historical massacres. This is my son Peter. We'd like to speak with you about Felicity Noonan"

Peter saw the look of horror widen Aiden's dark eyes, his mouth fall open a little, quickly jumped in

"It's okay – nothing's happened to her if that's what you're thinking" he said, watched the boy's face clear in relief, "Can we sit down, man?"

Aiden looked at him, smiling now in an appealing, honest manner. He had cute, deep dimples around his mouth, wide dark brown eyes with the mournful appeal of a Labrador begging table scraps. How could Aiden ever have found him scary with those dimples and puppy-eyes? He motioned them through, pulled up a chair at the kitchen table, sat with them. Erik remained standing. Now him, on the other hand – Aiden definitely thought he might have a reason to be afraid of him.

"So what's this to do with Flick?" the boy asked

"It's very little to do with Miss Noonan, and everything to do with you, young man" Erik told him, gave him another of those threatening smiles. Chilly grey eyes bored down into him.

"We wanna know what your intentions toward her are" Peter explained

"I… I just want to take her out!" Aiden held up his palms, as though Erik's eyes were a pistol to his head, "Really, that's it!"

"That had better be it," Erik told him, sat at last, "Or you might live to regret it"

"Dad…." Peter sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, "C'mon go easy on the guy"

Erik ignored him utterly, continued to pierce Aiden with his gaze. Gently at first, the knives on the magnetised strip behind him began to pull free.

"Miss Noonan," he began, quietly, "Is my son's ward and my adoptive granddaughter by extension. She is a good, kind, innocent child. We wish only for an assurance that you are going to treat her with the respect which she deserves"

"Of course!" Aiden burst out. Didn't hear the little hiss as the knives pulled away from the strip, "Dude, we're just going dancing! I swear!"

"First it's dancing. Then it's walking her home. Then it's a kiss goodnight. Then who knows?"

"It's nothing like that, I promise you!"

"Yo, Dadneto – knock it off!" Peter burst in suddenly. Aiden followed his eyes, out of his chair and stumbling over his own feet as he saw a swarm of kitchen knives floating in midair behind his head, a short and not particularly manly scream escaping him as he stared up at the deadly cloud. Blinked once, and questioned his sanity. The knives were back on the strip, Peter standing to offer his hand to pull him up. Despite being much slighter than Aiden, he pulled him to his feet effortlessly. Reached to put both strong hands on Aiden's shoulders and asked

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah… sure…" looking over at Erik, "I got it – mess with Flick, and you'll kill me"

Peter laughed, a full and joyous sound as if he were genuinely amused, but sobered quickly, petted him on the shoulder. It was like being smacked with a kettlebell.

"Don't be silly, Aiden" he grinned, "You mess with Flick, and I'll beat him to it by a mile"

He winked, let his hands fall. Gestured to his father. As they walked out, Erik gripped him gently around the arm, gave him one last unpleasant smile.

"Have a nice date, boy" he said, "Don't make it your last."

Aiden nodded, wide-eyed. Found himself waving them off as they left, closed the door behind them.

"D'you think we were too hard on him?" Peter asked, stuffed his hands into his pockets. His father patted him gently on the back, shook his head and chuckled kindly.

"I think we were just hard enough."