A/N: So sometimes you sit down to write one thing (Jam!) and something completely different ends up on the page. I don't know where the heck this even came from but I am pretty sure riveroad is responsible. Not sure if I should blame her for the inordinate amount of time I spend thinking about Spike these days, thank her for pushing me out of my comfort zone, or maybe even apologize to her for making a mess of it all – but it is what it is. And big thanks to Mollylyn for the title and for being such an awesome sounding board!

Disclaimer : The show Flashpoint and its characters were created by Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern and belong to them and its respective networks. I am making no money off this story and it is for entertainment purposes only. However, this particular story is my creation and should not be used without my express written permission.

The Feather Boa Book Club

Spike flopped down on the couch with a petulant huff, prompting a grin from Ed, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." When he merely raised his eyebrows waiting, Spike continued, "Okay it's possible we disagreed about semantics."

"Semantics?" Ed sounded doubtful.

"I said 'helping', she said 'most definitely not helping.' Whatever," even his finger quotes were disgruntled. "I don't understand why your wife is allowed to kick me out of Jules' kitchen," he looked across the room at Sam for back up.

"Don't look at me, man. She's got my wife off her feet in her own kitchen and she's got Jules convinced it was her own idea. I think Sophie might be a witch."

"Cheer up, Spikey," Ed slapped him on the thigh, "You lasted longer than the rest of us. This one over here wasn't even allowed in the kitchen," he winked at Leah.

"Well that's because she tried to kill us all at Thanksgiving."

"Honest mistake," Leah dismissed his concern with an elegant wave of her hand, "I must have read the wrong line."

"Yeah. Because recipes so often call for a quarter cup of cayenne pepper. You didn't think that was weird? At all?"

"You say that like you think I own a cookbook."

"Pfft. Well I own a cookbook. I own lots of cookbooks," he was indignant. "Took two days for my eyes to stop watering. Two days. Next time I…" he trailed off, his momentary pique forgotten as he spotted Sadie Braddock standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Dressed in purple fleece footie pajamas, chestnut curls adorably rumpled and cheeks rosy from sleep, her big blue eyes scanned the room. She did not need to be the offspring of two profilers to spot the easy mark in this crowd. Book tucked under her arm and trailing two feather boas, she made a beeline for her beloved Uncle Spike, sparing just a moment to toss a cheeky grin in her dad's direction as she passed his chair.

"Sadiebug! How was your snooze?"

"Good!" she tossed her book on the couch beside Spike and scrambled up into his lap, making herself right at home. "I brought us a story."

"I see that," Spike glanced behind her at the cover of the book, thrilled to see that they had moved on from the Pinkalicious obsession of the last few weeks. Damn book made him think about cupcakes more than was strictly healthy.

Sadie held out her feather boas, "I only have one pink one," she explained, full of apology.

He grinned, "And pink's your favourite?"

She nodded, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"I'm good with the white," he conceded, leaning forward so she could slip it over his head. "This time. You can't just be sticking me with the white every time," he couldn't resist teasing her.

"It's okay, a'cause Auntie Natalie said she's going to get me another pink one when she comes for my birthday."

"Did she now?"

Sadie nodded enthusiastically, curls bouncing, "Mommy says it's good to have choices but Auntie Natalie says choices means I can choose pink if I want to."

"And what did Daddy say about that?" Spike caught Sam's eye, grinning widely, knowing his buddy's least favourite place to be was stuck between his wife and his sister.

"Daddy said choices mean I can choose a hockey stick too if I want to."

Ed, eavesdropping on their conversation from his seat at the other end of the couch, barked out a laugh, "I bet he did." That was exactly what Sam had said after a couple of drinks at the Goose the week before, except it had come out more like, "I don't care if it's pink or purple or studded in goddamn rhinestones – as long as it's a hockey stick."

Sadie stole a glance at her dad before shaking her head and confiding in Uncle Spike, "Daddy's silly." She looped the pink boa around her own neck, jauntily throwing one end over her shoulder before reaching up to pat Spike on the cheek, one little finger absently poking his dimple. "I think the white one looks really nice with your blue shirt, Uncle Spike." And was it really any wonder he had been completely smitten with her since the day she was born?

He found it ridiculously hard to believe that it had been almost four years since that day at the hospital when Sam had handed over his impossibly tiny bundle of wee perfection. Even though he worked with deadly explosives as a matter of course, he remembered being afraid to hold her and stand up at the same time, as if suddenly his hands and feet could no longer be trusted to work together. Remembered too, wondering briefly if she came with the tiny pink striped hat – if all babies came with hats. He also distinctly recalled being a little annoyed at Winnie when she'd snatched Sadie away insisting that she be allowed to hold her also.

Now, almost 4 years later she was a whip-smart bundle of energy with more confidence and sass than any kid her age had any business having, she still – much to her mother's dismay - favoured pink hats and he, truth be told, really wasn't much better at sharing her affection. And she was, as she had always been, the very best combination of two of his most favourite people.

He picked up the book and held it where they could both look at it, "The Monster at the End of this Book" he read off the cover, "starring the loveable furry old Grover." He watched her, blue eyes bright with anticipation, waiting for him to start. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Me too," she opened the book and looked up at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he grinned at her.

"You!"

"Oh! You want me to read?" he asked, all innocence. "I thought you were going to read me a story."

"Uncle Spike," she scolded him, "I don't know how to read."

"Still?" he teased. "Well what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last?"

"You saw me lasterday, silly!" she giggled. "I know my letters, see?" she turned to the inside front cover where she had painstakingly written her name in blue crayon.

Spike grinned at the charming, haphazard little collection of letters that made up her name; giant S, random capital D, predictable backwards e, the a and the i both perfect. "Well, I suppose that deserves a story," he gave her a proud little squeeze, "Let's see what this Grover character is up to."

Winnie pushed herself off the wall where she had been leaning watching the whole exchange and padded back to the kitchen. Picking up her knife to resume her vegetable chopping duties, she waved it vaguely in Jules' direction, "You two need to put your daughter on a leash. That charm of hers is going to be big trouble for you in a few years."

Sophie laughed, "She putting her moves on your man again?"

Jules just grinned as Winnie nodded, "You might be on to something there. Sam keeps threatening to build a dungeon. Sarge tried to talk him down to maybe just some barbed wire around the yard, but Sam says 'He only has a boy so he doesn't understand.'"

"Sam's right," Sophie chimed in, "Even at 7 it's already a whole different ballgame with Izzy than it was with Clark. We may have to medicate Ed if we are all to survive puberty this time around."

"Well I fully refuse to contemplate puberty before I have even finished planning Sadie's 4th birthday party."

"Probably smart," Winnie agreed, grinning.

"More like self preservation. Soph? These potatoes are peeled and ready when you are."

"And you were so scared. I told you and told you , there was nothing to be afraid of," Spike finished reading and snapped the book shut as Sadie giggled delightedly.

"No, I told you! It's just Grover at the end," she held up her hands in an exaggerated shrug. "He's not scary."

"Nope! Hey, where do you think you're going?" he asked, squeezing her a little tighter as she tried to wriggle out of his lap. "What about my story?"

"Uncle Spike," she said in the manner of someone explaining something to a small child, "I still don't know how to read."

"Still?" Spike grinned, playing along. "So tell me something instead."

"Tell you what?"

Spike shrugged, "I don't know. Tell me something I don't know."

Sadie crossed her arms and pursed her lips, thinking hard before blurting, "Mommy has a baby in her tummy."

Spike snorted, "Yeah, I'm aware. She's out to here," he held his hand comically far out in front of his stomach.

"Don't let Jules catch you doing that," Sam warned him, his tone making it clear Spike was on his own if she did.

"Yeah, don't let mommy catch you doing that," Sadie parroted, "You'll get in biiiiggg trouble," she giggled and clasped her hands together, clearly tickled by the idea of Spike in hot water with her mom.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. Jules only had a few weeks left to go so it wasn't exactly news and she was almost out to there, but they were probably right that it wasn't a good idea to remind her. "So you're going to be a big sister soon. What do you think about that?"

"It's a boy."

Spike knew that too but he found the amount of almost 4 year old disgust that she managed to pack into those three little words kind of hilarious. He shrugged, teasing her, "So you'll be a big brother instead. That's okay."

"Uncle Spike!" Most of the time he kind of thought she looked like Sam but when she narrowed her eyes at him like that, she was definitely her mother's daughter.

"What?" he said, all innocence.

"I'm still gonna be a big sister, silly."

"Are you sure?" he looked sideways at her. When she nodded emphatically, he said "So, a baby brother. That's pretty awesome, don't you think?"

"I'd rather have a puppy."

A/N 2: Still at least one more chapter of this silliness to come. I'd love to know what you think so far!