AN: I just saw the new movie and I encourage you all to see it. Afterwards, I drove up to my family's vacation home, but I could not get the family dynamics of the movie out of my head. Here's my spin on what might have happened several months later, a simple one-shot that was fun to write and even more fun to picture as I wrote it.

I warn you I've only seen the movie once and I may get the details a little fuzzy, so bear with me. Once it comes out on DVD, I can get everything correct.

Disclaimer: I do not own.

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Marion stirred the porridge thoughtfully, the metal spoon clanging against the pot. She wasn't used to cook breakfast; before now she only wanted tea in the morning and Mutt tended to sleep until eleven or else be up with the sun. But she was trying to take her role as a mother and wife seriously, and she felt that included cooking breakfast. Maybe back when she first met Indy and she was the brassy gold digger, she could dash around without a care, but now in 1957, she was a wife of a professor and respectable member of society. She was even wearing a short apron over her loose trousers (she was not quite read to start wear skirts, heels, and pearls like the ideal housewife).

She could cook nothing more exciting than porridge, eggs, toast, or bacon, and so every morning they had to have a combination of the two. Yesterday it had been eggs and toast, today porridge and bacon, and tomorrow porridge and toast. Indy never complained, and Mutt only looked disgruntled because of the last month.

A whole month of arguments, of stomping to his room, of Indy stomping after him, of the two of them arguing. Marion had tried to stay out of it, only interfering when she thought they were about to come to blows, which had been several times during that last few days. Mutt had yelled, pleaded, begged, whined, pouted – everything he could do to try to change Indy's mind. But Marion knew her new husband well, knew the stubbornness that was mirrored in their own child, but Indy had eighteen years of bull-headed obstinacy over their boy and Indy would not back down.

And so bright and early that morning, Marion had stepped into her son's room and told him to get up. Mutt had groaned and said that he was sick.

Like any good mother, she reached out to feel his forehead. When it did not feel warm, she proceeded to yank off his covers and threatened,

"If you're not downstairs, dressed, in eight minutes, I'm coming back up here with a bucket of ice water."

"I don't want to go," Mutt wailed, throwing his arms out on the bed despairingly.

"I didn't ask what you," she countered. "You get ready and put on those clothes," she pointed to the starched clothes she had had hung there the night before, "and you come downstairs. Believe me, you don't want me sending your father up here."

Mutt moaned again, but Marion smiled as she went into the kitchen and began laying out the cups, plates, and bowls. She was just ladling the steaming porridge into bowls when she heard the floorboards creak behind her.

Smiling, she turned to see her husband standing there, looking fine in his suit with the straight cuffs and neat bowtie. "Every bit a professor," she noted as she approached him. They kissed, one of those brief, sweet kisses that Marion treasured because they were so simple. Not breathless kisses from escaping death yet again, or passionate kisses from defeating their enemies and returning victorious. Just quiet kisses that promised he loved her.

"Where your son?" he growled as he sat down.

"So today he's my son?" she tried not to smile as she returned to the food. "For the past month of bickering you've been shouting that no son of yours will be a college dropout. Yet on the first day of classes, he's suddenly my son again."

"He's conniving like you," Indiana gave her a knowing look. "He'll try to get out of it someway, sneak out the back or pretend to be sick."

"He already tried that, and I told him to get up and get dressed," Marion began setting the food on the table. "And before you ask, I washed and pressed his nice clothes so he won't be going in that leather jacket you hate so much. Although . . . you have a leather jacket, too, you know."

"From the 20's," Indiana snarled. "Mine's classic – his is some cheap black knock-off that he probably stole from a city gang!"

"Mutt doesn't steal," Marion poured him a cup of coffee.

"And we're not calling him Mutt at the University. It's Henry."

"You hate being called that," Marion looked at him. "You decided to go by Indiana rather than Henry when you were young."

"Indiana has distinction. Mutt sounds like a dirty junkyard dog. Where is he? We're leaving in ten minutes."

"You don't have to leave for twenty," she sighed as she went to get the rest of the food. "You're so grouchy this morning."

"I am not grouchy – I am ready to –" Indiana stopped at Mutt appeared at the doorway of the kitchen.

Mutt was dressed in basically the same clothes as his father, but where Indiana was wearing light brown, Mutt wore gray, and Mutt wore no tie and had left the top two buttons of his shirt open defiantly.

"Where's your tie?" Indiana demanded.

Mutt trudged to the table and sat down with a surly look at his father. "I'm not wearing one."

"You have to wear a tie. It's the first day – everyone looks nice on the first day."

"Well, I'm not everyone. And I don't want to go."

"This isn't up for negotiation," Indiana announced. "You're coming with me to the University. You're starting classes, one of which is my own, and that's the end of it."

"But I don't wanna go to school," Mutt whined, letting his shoulders slump. "I told you I want to open my own shop and work on motorcycles. I told you that I didn't care about –"

"My father," Indiana pointed a stern finger in the teenager's face, "was a professor. I am a professor. You are going to finish college, and then we'll talk about motorcycle shops."

"I'll run away," Mutt shot back.

"I'll track you down," Indiana said triumphantly. "There isn't a corner of this damn globe that I couldn't find you, boy, and I'll drag you back at the end of my bullwhip."

Marion kept her smile off her lips because she knew Indy was not joking. "Let's keep all whips and running away at a minimum today. Honey, you know Indy is going to help you out the first few days."

"Great, so everyone will know I'm not just the teacher's pet, I'm the teacher's son. Thanks a lot, Mom!"

"Don't get fresh with your mother," Indy ordered. "And I pulled a lot of strings to get you accepted so you better show me nothing but gratitude."

Mutt rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He had tried his hardest, but now it looked like he was going back to college. "At least let me ride my motorcycle."

"I'm driving and you're coming with me," his father decided, starting to eat the porridge.

"Come on, Mom," Mutt looked at his mother. "I'll stand out like a sore thumb. All the girls will think I'm a baby."

"One girl, not girls," Marion told him. "I don't mind you having one girlfriend, but you are not turning into your father with a dozen."

"So I have to go to college like him but I can't hang with girls like he did?" Mutt protested. "That's completely unfair."

"Eat your breakfast," Indy told him.

"Not hungry," Mutt said.

"Eat it," Indy ordered. "It's a long time until lunch and I don't want you getting restless in class. I know how you get when you're hungry."

"Well, you know everything," Mutt grumbled. "You know I'm going to flunk out of every class."

Marion quickly got up from the table in pretense of getting more coffee, just so she wouldn't have to see the expression on her husband's face. She could not imagine Indiana's temper if their son flunked out.

"You flunk out," Indiana pointed his spoon at Mutt, "and it will be the last thing you ever do."

Mutt huffed and shifted and sneered, but he finally settled down and ate some of the food, including a cup of coffee.

"All right," Indiana pushed his chair back, "time to go. If only you'd do something to that hair."

"The hair stays," Mutt put a hand to his combed-back hair.

"Fine, get in the car," Indiana directed. "And you better shine today or your motorcycle will become the newest buried treasure in our backyard."

Marion followed them outside. Indiana had his briefcase in one hand and the keys in the other, but he stopped to kiss her, pressing his lips against hers for a second longer than usual. She smiled at him and then stepped towards Mutt who was scowling.

"Do your best," she said quietly before kissing his forehead.

Once they were both in the car, Indy at the wheel and Mutt glowering in the passenger's seat, she leaned down to look at both of them.

"Ah, my college men. You," she looked at her son, "be good. And you," to Indy, "be nice."

"Be nice?" he raised an eyebrow. "When am I not nice? I swear, Mutt, you look at me like that one more time and I'll drag you behind this car all the way there. And trust me, it doesn't feel good."

Marion smiled at both of them and straightened as Indiana started the car.

"You know I hate you," Mutt said the moment they pulled away from the house.

"Yeah," Indy nodded, "I'm sure you do right now. But an education, that's the best thing I can give you, and someday you'll thank me."

"No, I won't."

"We'll see," Indiana turned his car towards the University. "But then, you'll be too stubborn to admit it, just like your mother."