Authors Notes: - I'm feeling unloved lately and that's affecting my ability to write. This flash fic is to help 'unblock' me. I was inspired obviously by a visit to McDonalds. Besides I need more Donovan fics. Oh yeah, and my friends mom used to eat the fish sandwich with a chocolate shake every day while she was pregnant. So I also got the idea from that. You'll understand better at the end.

Update: I fixed the little strait/straight issue I apparently had. Never even noticed! Thanks for the correction Mindgames!

McHell

Children mewled, screamed and tore about the restaurant. Parents seemed either blissfully ignorant to their offspring's behavior or didn't care enough to stop them. A long line stretched from the counter where teens took orders while simultaneously trying to complete them. Amidst the maelstrom stood Donovan, an authoritative looking perfectly dressed elegant man who seemed unaffected by his chaotic surroundings. Wearing his tailored black silk tuxedo he stood straight backed and looked exceedingly out of place. His manners and appearance were more befitting a night at the Oscars, not a fast food joint. The line trudged forward and he soldiered on, steadfastly ignoring the people around them.

When it came time for him to order he simply asked for a fish sandwich and a medium chocolate shake in a polished voice. The teen took his order and briskly ordered him to stand aside. He stiffly stepped away and went to waiting patiently for his order while standing beside the condiments and drinks. The man wasn't alone for long.

"Can you get me a napkin please?" A tiny voice queried from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and located the speaker. She was a tiny child, every bit fitting the term waif. Her large doe brown eyes stared up at him pleadingly. He sighed and plucked a napkin from the dispenser and held it out to her. She took it with a little hand and placed it on her tray, which was sitting on the floor at her feet.

"Can you get me some salt please?" She asked before he turned away.

With less visible reluctance he selected a minute handful of salt packets and deposited them in her upheld hand.

"Can you get me some ketchup too?" The girl continued.

His lovely face didn't register any emotions as he collected three little paper tubs and squeezed ketchup into each. Once his task was complete he held them out to her one at a time. They joined the salt and napkin on her tray.

"Anything else?" He asked in a voice tinged with a dulcet British accent.

She studied her tray very seriously, considering it as if the fate of the world rested in her response. After a moment she shook her head. He nodded and turned away, looking at the counter attentively.

"Why are you dressed like that?" The same child suddenly asked.

"Because I am going to an Opera." Donovan replied without looking.

"What's an Opera?"

"It's like a play but sung and often in another language." The man responded patiently.

"Why?"

"Because it's cultured."

"What's cultured?" She pressed.

"Not stupid." He tersely riposted.

His response gave the girl pause. She didn't remain silent for long though.

"Why do you have long hair? I thought only girls had long hair."

"Men used to almost ubiquitously have long hair." The man explained.

"Ubiquitously?" The girl struggled to repeat.

"It means commonly." He sighed.

"It's pretty." She said smiling at his back.

Donovan's shoulder slumped slightly and he looked down at her.

"Where are your parents?"

"Over there." She said pointing into the playroom where a couple sat with five other children eating their burgers. Neither parent seemed to notice that any child was missing.

"Why don't you go eat with them?"

"I haven't gotten my soda yet." She explained holding up an empty cup.

"What type do you want?" He asked wearily, taking the cup from her.

"Orange!"

He filled up her cup with orange soda, placed a lid on it and stuck a straw through the top. Then he handed it back to her.

"There, now go eat dinner."

"It's too heavy to carry." She protested.

"What is?" He asked glancing down.

"The tray."

With yet another sigh he leaned over, picked up the tray and motioned for her to lead. She smiled and walked towards her large family. When they arrived at the table Donovan placed the tray down and stepped back. The parents seemed puzzled by his presence.

"Keep a better eye on your child." Donovan scolded them.

"Why don't you mind your own business!" The father snapped at him.

His left eye twitched slightly and he leaned over the table and several children. Once he was inches away from the man's face he growled softly.

"If you would actually play the part as a parent she would not be my business. However considering you seem to be from the school of thought 'it takes a village to raise a child'. It has become my business." He kept his voice low, and subtly full of potential pain all the while sounding perfectly cultured.

The man seemed shocked by Donovan's dominating presence and dangerous eyes. He shrank back instinctively from him.

"And by the way." Donovan said looking towards the shocked silent mother. "Stop breeding."

He stood, smoothed down his lapels and turned away from them gracefully. Just as he entered the main eating area a young man called out his number in a cracking voice.

"About time." He sneered walking over and retrieving the meal.

With out a moment's hesitation he retreated from the screams and press of bodies and back into his limo with his waiting date. Her face lit up and she eagerly took the bag of food and shake from him.

"Now are you satisfied?" He asked in a wearied tone.

"Thank you so much Donovan! I've been craving this all day!" She leaned over and kissed his cheek before taking a big bite out of her fish sandwich.

"This is the last time I date a pregnant woman." He mumbled to himself rolling his eyes as the limo pulled away from the restaurant.