Whining, writing, and fandom_stocking

[bluegeek]

It is currently 2am and I am still awake. I have to be out and about to take my car to the mechanic in under 6 hours. I am not happy about this. Since I'm not yet sleepy, however, I am writing this and eating leftover acorn squash and chocolate cheesecake. My weird cravings, let me show you them.

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So I participated in fandom_stocking for the first time this year. I had fun, but didn't produce nearly as many fills as I had hoped I would, sadly. My stocking's contents can be found here. Go and admire :) There is an especially adorable Zoe/Wash backstory drabble by isellersfic that I love as well as a sweet and wonderful Teyla/Ronon/Rodney Vegas!verse fic by purple_cube. You will also find icons by vandonovan and yhlee that are excellent and definitely added to my collection. To round it out, you will find a link to a Doctor Who Ten/Reinette, Ten/Rose fanvid (Woo! Fanvid!) and holiday wishes.

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My fills are reposted below:

Originally written for queenmidalah at fandom_stocking here.



Signs of the Season

“You painted my ship?” Mal was losing the ability to modulate his voice rather swift-like, but that can be expected of man when his one of his favorite girls was being so poorly used by those who'd profess to love her.

"Just a little bit of her, Cap'n. Ain't she pretty?” Kaylee was her usual vibrant self, smiling and turning to survey her artistic effort with pride.

Mal was briefly distracted by a smudge of orange paint on Kaylee's jaw below her left ear. The warm tone drew attention to the lovely flush of Kaylee's skin, a flush that was spread all the way down her neck to her-

He shook his head fiercely and brutally dragged his attention back where it belonged. Which was on the unapproved picture that had been painted on the wall of his ship!

“Gorram it, Kaylee! You can't just go around changin' on any surface that strikes your fancy!”

She frowned at him slightly in reproach. “You certainly didn't seem to mind when I got the tattoo on my-”

“That is not the topic under discussion right now!” And there he went losing his volume-control again. If he weren't careful he'd draw attention to their discourse and he was not in a frame of thought to court the opinions of the rest of the peanut gallery right now.

“Fine then. I'll turn it back to the way it was. I just thought everyone'd 'preciate a little festive decoratin' considerin' the season and all.” Kaylee's voice had gone quiet and thin by the end of her sentence and Mal realized she wasn't annoyed but hurt by his reaction. Gorram.

Mal took a deep breath, turned, and contemplated Kaylee's handiwork. On the closest flat, large surface of wall to the ship's mess she'd painted a brick fireplace complete with mantlepiece and crackling fire. She'd chosen warm colors – reds, oranges, yellows, and browns – to create her masterpiece and he had to admit she'd created an scene that was friendly-like and welcoming. On the wall of his ship. In paint.

“The season, Kaylee? You realize it'll be the middle of summer when we arrive at our next job, right?”

“'Course I do, Cap'n. It's just that it's nearly winter back home, and there's even bound to be snow on the ground by now. I thought this would help us all get in the spirit of things... You know- togetherness, family, cocoa and snuggling by a cracklin' fire...”

He wasn't quite ready to be admittin' it aloud, but she did paint a nice mental picture to go along with the physical one. On. His. Ship.

She sighed, softly, and wrapped her arm around his waist as he continued to contemplate the scene before them. “I can put it back, if you'd druther not have it here.”

Mal's sigh matched hers. He pulled her towards him and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Nah. I 'spose it can stay.”

Kaylee nearly squealed with delight and one of her fists, raised in victory, nearly caught him directly in the jaw.

“For a little while, you hear? It's not gonna be gracin' the side of my ship forever, got that?”

“Sure do, Cap'n!” The smile was back on Kaylee's face, right where it belonged. He supposed that Serenity wouldn't mind the redecoratin', temporarily, at least, and so long as his girls were happy...

“So, tell me more about this snuggling business...”


***

Originally posted for storydivagirl's stocking at fandom_stocking here.



White(ish) Christmas

As a fine mist of flour hung in the air around him and began settling onto all surfaces throughout his kitchen, Leonard reflected that introducing his bright and impressionable young daughter to the hurricane known as James T. Kirk was perhaps not his best idea.

Joanna stood with eyes wide and both hands clapped over her mouth, her shaking shoulders make it clear that she was valiantly attempting to hold back laughter.

Jim didn't even bother to try. He was, in fact, bent nearly double and clutching his stomach as he roared in laughter. Seeing Jim's display, within seconds Joanna lost her battle to hide her amusement and her giggles joined his to fill Leonard's baking-warm kitchen.

Waiting for them to pull themselves together, Leonard crossed his arms over his chest and blew out a breath, causing a small puff of flour to launch itself off his clothing in a cloud. Jim snorted loudly at the sight, which, of course, set Joanna off once again.

“Flour fights are definitely not part of the recipe for chocolate chip cookies.” Leonard told them, glaring as he spoke.

Joanna sobered somewhat, though she couldn't completely stifle her grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

Jim had no such restraint. “Aww, come on, Bones. It was definitely a holiday tradition back home. And we didn't even have the excuse of lacking the snow to have a real snowball fight the way you Georgians with your bizarrely warm weather do.” Jim threw his arm over Leonard's shoulders, creating another flour fog to rise up around them. “Besides, you shouldn't have walked into the engagement zone unarmed.”

Bones glowered and shrugged Jim's arm off, moving towards a cabinet. “You two start cleaning the up the mess you've made. I'm going to have a drink and try to clear my throat of some of the flour that's no doubt attempting to clog up my airway. Then I'm going to have to take another shower and this stuff'll probably turn to paste in my hair.”

“Oh, Bones, so dramatic.” Jim rolled his eyes but dutifully went in search of a dustpan and broom.

As Leonard filled his glass with ice, his eyes ran over Jim, pausing on the gap between Jim's collar and his neck. He grinned as an idea struck and popped out a few extra cubes of ice. Jim sounded like he missed the snow and ice of his Iowa Christmases past, and Leonard could do his part to help him feel a little more at home.

And someone once said, after all, that revenge is a dish best served cold.



***

Posted for celli's stocking at fandom_stocking here. Her special request was to include mentions of accounting or taxes. So here we have: Accountant AU. I think this might be my first AU...



'Tis the Season

“It's Christmas Eve, Bones, you should be relaxed and happy. Instead you're cranky and sulking. What's up?”

Bones' only answer was a growl and a frantic tapping of keys on his laptop. He sat at the kitchen table with his computer and some file folders scattered around him and an empty coffee cup set precariously close to the table's edge. That was where Bones had spent most of the last evening before they went to bed and where Jim had found the man this morning when he woke up. The irritated expression on Bones' face did not seem to have softened overnight.

With a roll of his eyes, Jim walked over to the counter and reached for the coffeemaker, only noticing when he hefted the pot that it was empty. He cast a scathing glance at Bones - unnoticed since the other man continued to scowl down at his computer – before discarding the used filter and preparing the machine to make a fresh pot.

Jim leaned against the counter as he waited for his morning fix to brew and watched as Bones' scowl became increasingly severe the louder the coffeemaker hissed and gurgled.

When Bones growled again, not quite under his breath, Jim decided that he'd had enough. A night spent in an uncomfortable silence and a morning shaping up to be more of the same was more than his limited patience would tolerate. Jim walked over to the table, closed the lid to the laptop while ignoring Bones' protests, and sat down at the table himself.

Bones maintained a stony silence while Jim turned their chairs to face each other with their knees brushing. Once Jim had them settled to his satisfaction, he looked Bones in the eyes and said, “So obviously something is bothering you. Would you like to tell me what it is?” He hesitated for a moment before deciding to take a verbal shortcut. “And you might as well tell me because you know I'll poke and pry and whine until you eventually give in.”

Bones' forehead scrunched up and he glared, narrow-eyed, at Jim for long enough that Jim began to suspect he would have to make good on his threat, before finally replying. “Tax season.”

“Tax season is the reason you can't enjoy Christmas?”

“Yup.”

“Even though tax preparation and financial counseling provides a healthy portion of our yearly income?”

Bones frowned at him. “Not that. It's the upcoming crunch that irritates me.”

“The crunch before the filing deadline? Which occurs in April? Three-and-a-half months from now? That is what has your boxers in a bunch?” Jim didn't bother to mask his incredulity.

Bones made a face at him and waved his hands as though brushing the idea away. “I don't mean the tax season in general, I mean the idiots who are out right now buying more than they can afford because it's Christmas Eve and therefore their last chance. And then exceeding their budgets and losing their receipts and wanting to claim stupid shit as a business expense because they wanted to impress their boss with a crappy hunk of overpriced metal from Brookstone with no actual purpose and who won't accept when you insist that it's not a legitimate deduction.”

By the end of the speech the hand-waving had morphed into pointed jabs directed distressingly accurately towards Jim's heart. Also, Bones hadn't taken a single breath during his diatribe; Jim was impressed.

“And I seem to be the only one in the office that has to deal with these dimwits. I'm an accountant, not a miracle worker!”

Jim shook his head slightly to refocus himself. “You aren't upset by tax season.”

Now Bones crossed his arms over his chest and adopted a belligerent expression. “Oh I'm not, am I?”

“Nope. You like the people in the office, even if you hide it behind that surly exterior of yours that doesn't fool anyone. Except maybe that new guy, Chekov. I don't think he's used to you yet, but he'll learn soon enough.” Jim didn't let Bones' scowl deter him as he continued, “You get along well with most of your clients, the commute to the office sucks less now that they've finished construction on the highway, and you've even managed to tone down the financial responsibility tirades to once or twice a month now. Work is not your issue.”

“Then would you care to enlighten me about what is really bothering me, since you seem to know my moods ever so much better than I do myself?” Bones was clearly not impressed with Jim's deductive skills.

“This is about Joanna. Specifically, this is about not getting Joanna on Christmas Eve and not getting to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn with her and see her excitement in the morning.”

Bones was completely silent and his face was carefully blank. Jim waited for several long minutes, allowing Bones time to stew or think or decide where to hit him – something.

When Bones finally spoke, Jim was surprised.

“How did you know?” Bones' voice was quietly curious and his scowl was gone.

“Because I know you. Nothing gets under your skin the way Joanna-related stuff does.”

“Yeah, well.” Again, Bones was silent for a long minute. “It just gets to me. Not being there. Her not being here. Everything.”

Jim reached out and squeezed Bones' knee. “We'll be seeing Joanna tomorrow after she has breakfast and opens presents with her mom and stepdad, and then we'll have her the rest of Christmas Day and then all weekend. I know it's not perfect, but it's a damn sight better than last year, isn't it?”

The year before Jocelyn had taken Joanna to California to spend Christmas with her new husband's family and Bones had been forced to make do with only a phone call with his daughter on Christmas Day. He'd spent fifteen minutes on the phone feigning excitement over her newest toys to hide how broken up he was not to be with her and he'd gotten very, very drunk later that night.

“Yes. Which is why I don't trust it.” Bones sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I keep expecting Jocelyn to call and cancel.”

Jim pressed his hands to Bones' shoulders, trying to rub out the knots of tension he felt there. “You and Jocelyn have been on much better terms this year. We even survived Joanna's birthday with all of us in the same room for nearly two hours. No one yelled or fought or spontaneously burst into flames. Jocelyn wants what's best for Joanna, just like you do. Parents who can work together is definitely best for Jo. It's going to work out fine.”

Bones nodded. Jim knew that he'd continue to worry until they had Joanna safely tucked at his side under the Christmas tree and opening her mounds of gifts tomorrow afternoon, but he did look a little better for having voiced his fears aloud.

Time to move on to the next phase of his strategy: distraction.

“So can you please stop wasting your energy on being falsely irritated with your clients and maybe focus it on something a little more cheerful?” Jim raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side as he looked at Bones, entreating. He wasn't sure if Bones' would allow himself to be diverted and was greatly relieved to see Bones flash him a lascivious grin.

“I have a good idea of how to spend the rest of the day.”

Picking up on Bones' abrupt change of mood, Jim smiled back.

“I like the way you think.”