The Harem High-Balling Hesitation, PG-13, The Middleman Fanfiction

“Boss!”

The whisper from his Middle watch registered as he turned another corner in the middle school – that is to say, a school for children in grades three to six. There was no school, formally, for Middlemen. The individual characteristics of worthy pupils were so disparate as to be impossible to see in someone without exposing him or her to The Middleman's secrets. It was one of the reasons he felt fortunate to have encountered Wendy Watson on a mission.

“Make it speedy, Dubbie. I'm in hot pursuit of the delinquent who used his hydrochloric acid volcano to try to dissolve the girl he likes and an ill-favoured gym teacher!”

He glanced down at the watch face and saw her looking back with mild panic.

“Don't worry. He's only twelve, and I'm told he hates milk in addition to gym class. I should overtake him soon,” The Middleman comforted her.

She nodded jerkily and said, “Okay, good, only the thing is, um . . . Ida is trying to sell me, I think.”

He hit a corner and slowed down to inch around it. His opponent had home turf advantage. “Sell you?”

“I can't understand a lot of it, but there was a thing about pointing at me, then my Hyeotiap-to-English dictionary told me she said something about a harem and my smart mouth being tiresome. Now they're looking at me from across the room and whispering.”

“Perhaps they are just conferring about the terms of the peace agreement.”

The misanthropic boy was crouched under a half door to the art room, his head buried in his arms. In addtion to being low on calcium and turning up his nose at physical fitness, Georgy Eustus was lousy at hide and go seek.

“She complimented me, Boss, and not sarcastically. She said something about me and they clapped.”

Getting the doughy boy by the collar, The Middleman stiffened. “Good gravy, Dubbie! Don't go anywhere with them! I'll be right back.”

He delivered the boy to his parents in the Principal's office, had a quick chat with the science teacher to strongly suggest the impressive but felonious project the boy constructed be given a grade of zero for impure intentions, and reminded the young man he'd have been able to escape if not for his shunning of high-calcium beverages.

On the drive back to HQ, the Middleman called up Hyeotiap cultural data. It was true they were primarily xenophobic, but their relationship with Middlemen in the past had allowed a tentative trade relationship. One famed concubine on the Hyeotiap homeworld was originally from Earth. She had been abducted by accident along with some goats, while working as a herder. When the goats were bathed and groomed for sale in pet stores, the woman was found.

A picture of a woman, standing in a small herd of goats with a very bemused expression as she held tightly to her shawl, loaded onto the dashboard screen. She was brandishing a pastry bag.

Her good-natured adjustment from a farming lifestyle in Peru, to a space freighter carrying her too far from her own planet to ever return was only one of Maria Cosuelez's positive impressions. She also took up herding duties during the trip and taught the ship's cook everything she'd learned in three semesters of training to be a pastry chef.

The Hyeotiap people were what Wendy termed 'foodies.'

The peace treaty had been a virtual shoo-in when pre-made puff pastry was offered, so The Middleman had left the final discussions to Wendy, with Ida translating. It should have been valuable diplomatic experience. They seemed to like her and the pen and ink portraits she had done of their favourite Earth sandwiches from the catered lunch tray.

The freighter's crew would have allowed Maria to remain with them, but she was spotted by a Hyeotiap prince. A brief royal visit launched a hopeless romance, and she married the prince shortly thereafter, becoming his 583 1/9th wife. The novelty of her one-of-a-kind status made her a favourite, and ever since there had been a certain cachet in acquiring an Earth concubine. The Hyeotiap were luckily peaceful or they might have abducted Peruvian goat herders on purpose.

“Holy matrimony,” he muttered, stepping on the gas. “The Peruvian ambassador will never stop calling and what would I tell Mrs. Watson?”

He parked in the garage next to the small day-tripper ship their visitors arrived in, all four of them comfortably sitting in a single stack of plastic cubicles balanced on the fuselage. Taking a moment to wash the volcano off his hands, The Middleman took deep breaths. He would just explain Wendy Watson was not a single woman available for intergalactic travel.

He walked into the office and saw the table had been left in a minor mess of papers and electronic notepads. Wendy was standing behind Ida's desk with her arms folded, looking silently petrified. Her eyes flared as the translated dialogue from the Hyeotiapians was partially repeated by the android.

“Sew her mouth shut? Well, she needs it to eat, but I suppose you could – do you have straws? Drinking straws,” Ida asked, looking around for an example. “They're like . . . “

The Middleman cleared his throat and held his hand out for Wendy to stand beside him. She clattered over and pinched the back of his jacket in her fist.

“Ohhh, thank you for hurrying. One of them wanted to hold me upside down,” she hissed. “I had to claim brittle bone disease. He wanted to see how I bounced.”

“Did you finish the treaty,” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, I did. It's signed and I'm really looking forward to seeing you use it to keep me from being taken to the royal harem by space gummies.”

The Middleman didn't comment on her scathing tone and slightly insulting reference to their guests, accepting that her stress level was too high to expect her to watch all her words. She got the job done, and her description wasn't incorrect.

The Hyeotiapians resembled nothing quite so much as virus bacilli enlarged to be as tall as the average woman. They were transparent in places and had cartilaginous arms that were comically large and without digits. The effect was of big moving gumdrops with sloshy centres. It would have been a little better were they not bright red.

“Ida, translation please,” he asked politely. “Exactly as I say, without any commentary. We appear to have a misunderstanding you are enjoying too much. Gentlemen, I am glad we have a successful treaty.”

Ida's mouth worked rapidly on a series of noises. “Sheese whoosh woooo ssssss.”

“But there has been a mistake. Miss Watson is not eligible for concubinage. I would miss her greatly, and while she is flattered at the offer, must decline.”

The robot made a face, then said, “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh wheeeeeeek hoo.”

One Hyeotiapian asked her something, she replied, and then they were back to talking like Wendy and The Middleman weren't in the room.

“I don't think she said what you said, Boss,” the artist observed. “I know it's all good manners and puff pastry right now, but if they try to take me with them I'm hauling ass.”

“Not necessary, Dubbie,” he assured her, and cleared his throat.

He stood next to his apprentice, put one arm around her shoulders and used the other one to gesture to her belly. With a sweeping arc out from her body, he mimed a really big lump and hugged her shoulders tightly. His proud smile was beaming as he kissed her mouth lightly, and Wendy remembered to respond just enough to sell it.

She kept her plastic smile up as Ida translated the farewells from their visitors. Each of the Hyeotiapians patted Wendy's stomach as they filed out. One even put his tentacles a foot from her breasts and moved them up and out, with a twitch of what passed for his eyebrow.

“Mmm hmm,” her boss said, still beaming and squeezing her shoulders. “I'm a lucky man.”

She wrestled free when the aliens had left, and clomped over to stare at HEYDAR. “That was not cool.”

“I agree,” The Middleman said. “Ida, I have to insist you apologize to Wendy. It was 'not cool' to auction her off to the Hyeotiap royal harem.”

“Sorry,” she said, voice more mechanical than not. “I thought I was doing you a favour. You could laze around by day and at night-”

“Heeeeey! I mean all of it. Selling me, pretending to be my husband or my owner or whatever, and telling them I'm knocked up!”

The Middleman and android looked at her blankly, a tinge of hurt on his face. He had solved the problem, even if it was by insulting her. Wendy sighed. “The selling was the worst. But the belly rubs are really not okay. I'm going home to read feminist rants and try not to care that half the galaxy now thinks I'm a pregnant slut.”

“Relax, sugarplum, they thought I was asking too much anyway. The deal would have fallen through,” Ida told her, sitting matter of factly down to channel surf for game shows.

“A pregnant, cheap slut,” she corrected. “Thanks for that.”

The Middleman followed her as she slouched into the locker room, looming behind her back as she took off her tie. Wendy stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“What?”

His blinding white smile did nothing but make her eyebrows fold suspiciously. “Wendy Watson, you have just completed your first peace treaty with an extra-terrestrial culture. Congratulations. Allow me to buy a round of frosty milkshakes so we can enjoy our joint satisfaction,” he said cheerfully.

Her mouth twisted all the way to the left and squeaked out a tiny, “No.”

He let his shoulders slump for a moment before nodding. “Of course, it has been a long day. Perhaps another time when we may discuss the fine points of treaty drafting-”

Wendy put her head inside her locker and shut the door on her neck. “Let's not. Let's work while we're working and that's it.”

She gave up on changing and stowed her gun. The Middleman was at her heels as she headed for the garage. She could tell from his tone he had wounded eyes.

“Dubbie, I don't understand your attitude. Ida was out of line but I alleviated the situation and I asked her to apologize. If there is something more you require to settle the matter please tell me what it is,” he said quickly, rushing as she sped up.

“Nope, see ya,” she replied tersely. They entered the garage and her heart sank. The Middle mobile was alone. Her smart car would have taken up the space they needed for the Hyeotiap ship so he had picked her up before work. “Crap!”

Taking her pause as an opportunity, he pulled out his keys and nudged her toward the car. They climbed in and he turned to her before he started the engine. “Du-”

“No!”

Rebuffed, but content to wait out the worst of her anger, he turned the key and pulled out into the street. Wendy noticed he was taking the long way to her place, but she gritted her teeth and shut up about it. Leadership by example, she thought.

“It's nice that it's staying sunny so late,” he commented. “Keeps the energy reserves up.”

She turned her chin to look out the passenger side.

“I've been thinking of joining a book of the month club,” The Middleman ventured. “I rarely have hours put aside for leisure activity, but as long as the books are less than 300 pages I think I could finish them.”

She really regretted leaving her gun behind. Waving it around for effect had to get the point across that she didn't want to bond. Or the police could pull them over and arrest her – either way.

“As long as they don't choose that Tom Clancy. He gets the mindset of a Navy Seal all wrong.”

He glanced over at his partner and saw her hand near the door handle, so The Middleman sped up through a yellow light instead of stopping.

“Honestly, Wendy, this is ridiculous. You can say anything you like to me and I won't take offense,” he told her, smiling. “Go.”

He could take the fun out of even her favourite fantasies, she moped.

“I don't feel very good about my workday, and I do not want to discuss it.”

The blank tone wiped the smile off his face and he frowned until they reached her building. “Thanks,” Wendy mumbled.

He ran around the car and crammed through the door behind her, then into the elevator. His knees were bent so he could make eye contact. She hit the floor button and faced the corner.

Ida had repeatedly told him the knack of reading subtle moods was lost on him. The Middleman prided himself on being astute socially, but he acknowledged his failings in that regard. He could always tell someone wanted to punch him, but the non-violent feelings were less clear. He summarized the events of the day and pondered any disturbing elements. Nearly being sold into concubinage was objectionable for an independant woman. Ida's insults were on par with normal. He had put his arm around her and kissed her on the lips to imply they were a couple.

“Thundering Tailhook, Dubbie!”

He grabbed her by the arms and whipped her around, so fast her watch unsnapped from her wrist. She shook free and knelt down to pick it up. “Are you having a seizure? What?!”

“Do you feel sexually harassed?!”

Obviously, at that moment precisely, while she was on her knees in front of him and he was screaming nonsense, the elevator arrived at her floor. Wendy stood up and turned her head. Of course, her roommate, boyfriend, and friend were standing around to witness it. That was how the world made the extra special days extra special.

“Dropped my watch,” she said, holding it up and putting it back on. “And thanks again, Boss, for driving me home . . . “

She pushed the gate up and it looked like The Middleman might stand quietly and let her send him away, but then he put his hand up to stop her from closing it.

“No. We have to discuss this,” he said intensely. “Any day where you leave work feeling like 'a pregnant, cheap slut' is a day that requires some conciliatory efforts on my part. I would be remiss not to be concerned about it.”

Lacey clapped both hands over her mouth and let out a squeak under her breath. Noser had to hold her. Wendy turned to her and pointed, “No, I'm not. Any of those things. Calm down. Please, leave, Boss, please?”

He looked her over rather thoroughly for an employer, then stared at their audience for a second. “No, you look upset. I think I should stay,” The Middleman insisted. “Perhaps we could talk privately?”

She nearly hurt her eyes staring intently into his, then rolling them toward her bemused boyfriend, but her employer was more emotionally demanding than most – at least the ones she hadn't slept with. If he didn't get some kind of reassurance he might not call her if the world needed saving. Then they'd die all angsty and weird.

“Fine. One second,” she said, turning to hold Lacey's shoulders from floating away. “We're having a misunderstanding, so Bossman and are going to take a few minutes to figure it out. Nothing happened, though, and that's what we all have to keep in mind. We're going to go down to the car, where more of nothing will happen.”

She hustled him back on the elevator and yanked the gate closed, wearing the most fake smile she'd ever worn. For a smart man he didn't seem to understand putting down the shovel was a good way not to dig deeper.

They got out of the elevator and she pulled him into the parking lot. Pip's surveillance did not need her Boss whispering on record. He leaned on the car unhappily and she felt her urge to take her bad mood out on him die quietly.

“You didn't do anything wrong, nor did Ida . . . sort of. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have gone through with the sale,” Wendy told him. “So stop being all big-eyed and sad.”

He bristled and stood up straight, but he felt like there was still a problem. The lines of communication had recently collapsed.

“I would have warned you of my plan if I knew it would damage your trust,” The Middleman said.

Her eyes rolled but she smiled genuinely, snickering at his stubborn need to be the bad guy. He was lop-sided with morality.

“Okay, here's the deal. If there was sexual harassment going on, it would be much more likely I'd be harassing you, and then all you'd do is take it and find some way to make it your fault. We're fine. I'm just blah.”

Confused, he put his hand to her forehead, remembering the last time she had been 'blah' was a cold. There was no fever, and Wendy slapped his hand down gently.

“Don't you ever just have days where the job makes you crabby? Not miffed or peeved or nonplussed – really mad? Other than when super-intelligent gorillas are exploited to take over the world?”

He scrunched up in concentration and thought about it. The job was by its nature a difficult and thankless one, but he depended on himself to cope with his circumstances. He helped people, did good things and saved the world sometimes. There were failures or days when he had to see death. Killing was never easy, but it was justified to protect the people of Earth.

“Today was not a difficult day,” he qualified, “But I do have days where I am discouraged.”

She was almost proud of him for having something nearing pettiness. “Well, I wanted to leave the day behind and you weren't letting me, so I got mean. Sorry. I'll be fine tomorrow. One little kiss isn't enough to scare me off.”

She leaned on the car next to him and looked at the building. “Lacey scares me. Tyler is no problem, but if she can't have you she wants me to have you. She'd love it if you did get me pregnant so you could move into the loft with us,” Wendy said dryly. “So there's your dire warning. Don't seduce me. It would be like Three's Company with confrontational spoken word and oil-based art. Goodnight.”

She glanced at him with a little grin, then went inside. The Middleman pulled his jacket down, took out his keys, and decided to glue Ida's mah jong tiles together.