Ficlets: Thanksgiving for the masses!
A bit on the late side, but whatever. Three Thanksgiving ficlets for everyone.
Title: New Traditions
Fandom: Pushing Daises
Characters/Pairings: Chuck, Emerson, Ned, Olive.
Rating: G
Spoilers: All aired episodes
Summary: The Pie Maker celebrates Thanksgiving again.
Word Count: 322
Disclaimer: Not associated with Bryan Fuller or ABC. I'm just borrowing them. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Thanks to starxd_sparrow for the beta.
With one hundred five hours, fifty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds left until Thanksgiving, the Pie Maker officially had plans for the night. His first love, the girl named Chuck, had declared that the two of them, along with his partners in pie and not-crime were to have a glorious feast on Thursday.
The girl named Chuck, while sleeping, had remembered how much joy Thanksgiving had given her aunts and her all those years.
Emerson merely scoffed at the idea of dinner with his partner and his “lady drama”, but the girl name Chuck had persuaded him with a delicious meal that he did not have to cook for himself. Olive smiled softly, not wishing to seem too eager to be with the Pie Maker later that week.
The Pie Maker watched his sweetheart giggle in anticipation of the turkey dinner she had planned. He shrugged when she asked about his previous experience with the holiday before he mumbled something she did not understand.
The night before Thanksgiving, the Pie Maker dreamed of his last Thanksgiving- his mother baking pumpkin pies in between basting the turkey, stuffed to the brim. That moment was happier than anything he had remembered in the years since he left Coeur d' Coeurs. He had an irrational fear of bringing any turkey back to life, and as a result, the Pie Maker ate tofurkey dinners each year in his apartment with only Digby to keep him company.
On Thursday, he awoke to the sound of pots and pans clanking loudly in his kitchen. The girl named Chuck was pulling a small turkey from a plastic bag out of her Cheese Box before placing it in a roasting pan. On the counter stood a large bowl filled with stuffing, while a pot bubbled with water and boiling potatoes.
For the first time in twenty years, the Pie Maker smiled as the smell of Thanksgiving wafted through the air.
Title: Where to begin?
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: The Brothers Winchester.
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers: Through Fresh Blood.
Summary: A meal in a diner never felt so awkward for these two.
Word Count: 520
Disclaimer: Not associated with Eric Kripke or The CW. I'm just borrowing them. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Thanks to starxd_sparrow for the beta.
There were few traditions the Winchester brothers had these days since their family had dwindled to the two of them. Celebrations became an afterthought to the hunt or the escape.
More often than not, Sam would have to remind Dean of any major holiday to try and plan anything with the two of them together. Of course, that was before-before “The Deal.” Nothing really worked the same now. Sam zoned out after each hunt was done-lost in the haze of what horrific thing he had done to accomplish the mission coupled with his need to save his brother.
After three more battles against demons looking to help Sam gain his rightful claim as The Boy King, Sam remembered that Thanksgiving was only a few days away. Dean, of course, was ignorant of the time-choosing to spend his time enjoying the corporeal pleasures instead of worrying about the diminishing number of days he had left.
“Dean,” Sam said cautiously while Dean drove the car through Ohio, “you know Thanksgiving is Thursday, right?”
“Of course I do, Sammy. I’m already on top of our plans.”
Sam cocked his head in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, Sam,” Dean responded. “We don’t have any new leads on demons, so I thought we’d stop at this place I know in Illinois for dinner. Real nice people there,” he added nonchalantly.
“Sure, Dean, sounds nice.”
A pregnant silence filled the car as Sam couldn’t think of anything else to say.
In his head, Sam had plenty of other things to say about the impending meal, but he’d realized that Dean had stopped talking as much after that meeting with Gordon two weeks before.
They drove in silence to Illinois, and Sam figured the prospect of something normal for Thanksgiving was a far off dream.
--*--
The diner Dean remembered looked like any other run of the mill place Sam had seen. Nothing that told him dinner would be anything other than some dry turkey with too-salty gravy and a piece of pumpkin pie covered in Cool Whip.
However, once the brothers were seated and had ordered two turkey dinners, Sam noticed that everything seemed right-the waitress was friendly and didn’t mind working on the holiday. When the food arrived, Sam noticed how quickly Dean went at his turkey breast.
“Hungry, man?” Sam asked as he examined his plate.
“No, Sammy, I’m not. I’m just shoveling food in my mouth for shits and giggles.”
“Fine-you want to eat in silence. I get it,” Sam replied before he cut a piece of his meat.
Sam kept looking at Dean for some hint of what else to say, but his older brother just kept the food going into his mouth.
By the time Dean had had three pieces of pie-apple, pumpkin and pecan-Sam had long resigned himself to the fact that there was never going to be normal holiday for the two of them.
The younger Winchester allowed the silence to continue as they left the diner and enter the Impala as Dean drove them to Iowa where Bobby had said there was something going on that they needed to “fix.”
Title: Fresh Start
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters/Pairings: Logan, Veronica.
Rating: PG.
Spoilers: Through The Bitch is Back--set during their sophomore year at Hearst.
Summary: To call or not to call?
Word Count: 521
Disclaimer: Not associated with Rob Thomas or The CW. I'm just borrowing them. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Thanks to starxd_sparrow for the beta. At this point, all mistakes are my own.
He’d kept his promise to leave her alone. He owed her that much.
It was easier to do most days, he knew. They ran in drastically different circles (it was made very clear to him that any of her friends were no longer his friends after that day in the food court), and he’d moved out of the place she was most likely to run into him.
Instead, he found himself in a small condo, alone for the first time he could remember. Well, alone when he didn’t want to be.
He kept looking at the phone, trying to decide if he could call and invite her over. Not that he had much planned. He’d found a small turkey from the specialty market in town, and along with the Good Housekeeping cookbook that Trina had mailed him when he moved, he planned on making his first major holiday meal. Dick had gone off with his mother to Sacramento with her husband, which left him no one to eat with-unless he called.
Something in the back of his mind said that she might appreciate the call, especially if her dad was off chasing some loser to Texas. It was fairly evident to him that she’d closed herself off after May, even with that summer training with the FBI. This was more like the girl he’d teased and tortured after Lilly died than the girl who consciously worried about him cheating.
He gripped the phone tightly before instinctively dialing her number. He idly tapped his fingers against his thigh as the rings chimed in his ear.
“Hello, Mars residence,” she said flatly.
“Hi, Veronica, it’s Logan.”
“Hi." He heard her suck in a surprised breath before going on. "I didn’t expect you to call today.”
“Figured. I know we’re not really talking, but,” he paused, trying to figure out what to say next. “I bought this small turkey for Thursday, and I wanted to know if you’d have dinner with me.”
He could tell by the silence filling the line that she was processing his request.
“You’re cooking Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked finally.
“Yes, Veronica. Trina found a cookbook that I can follow, and I figure there’s no time like now to start new holiday traditions.” He tried to cover the years of neglect in his voice, but he knew something came out.
“Well, Mac’s got plans with her family, and Wallace went off to Chicago. Dad’s in New Mexico on some case, and I was planning on fixing a Marie Calendar’s dinner,” she trailed off.
“You’re coming over-that’s settled,” he retorted before she could say anything else.
“Since you insist,” she responded with a bit of glee.
“I do. Meet me at my new place at four. You need directions?”
“Please - you forget that I have ways to find you.”
“Fine. See you at four.” He clicked the phone off. A small smile crept onto his face.
At least he had something to look forward to tomorrow.
The cookbook sat on his kitchen table, staring at him, before he left the room to make one last trip to the grocery store.
Feedback is appreciated.
Title: New Traditions
Fandom: Pushing Daises
Characters/Pairings: Chuck, Emerson, Ned, Olive.
Rating: G
Spoilers: All aired episodes
Summary: The Pie Maker celebrates Thanksgiving again.
Word Count: 322
Disclaimer: Not associated with Bryan Fuller or ABC. I'm just borrowing them. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Thanks to starxd_sparrow for the beta.
With one hundred five hours, fifty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds left until Thanksgiving, the Pie Maker officially had plans for the night. His first love, the girl named Chuck, had declared that the two of them, along with his partners in pie and not-crime were to have a glorious feast on Thursday.
The girl named Chuck, while sleeping, had remembered how much joy Thanksgiving had given her aunts and her all those years.
Emerson merely scoffed at the idea of dinner with his partner and his “lady drama”, but the girl name Chuck had persuaded him with a delicious meal that he did not have to cook for himself. Olive smiled softly, not wishing to seem too eager to be with the Pie Maker later that week.
The Pie Maker watched his sweetheart giggle in anticipation of the turkey dinner she had planned. He shrugged when she asked about his previous experience with the holiday before he mumbled something she did not understand.
The night before Thanksgiving, the Pie Maker dreamed of his last Thanksgiving- his mother baking pumpkin pies in between basting the turkey, stuffed to the brim. That moment was happier than anything he had remembered in the years since he left Coeur d' Coeurs. He had an irrational fear of bringing any turkey back to life, and as a result, the Pie Maker ate tofurkey dinners each year in his apartment with only Digby to keep him company.
On Thursday, he awoke to the sound of pots and pans clanking loudly in his kitchen. The girl named Chuck was pulling a small turkey from a plastic bag out of her Cheese Box before placing it in a roasting pan. On the counter stood a large bowl filled with stuffing, while a pot bubbled with water and boiling potatoes.
For the first time in twenty years, the Pie Maker smiled as the smell of Thanksgiving wafted through the air.
Title: Where to begin?
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: The Brothers Winchester.
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers: Through Fresh Blood.
Summary: A meal in a diner never felt so awkward for these two.
Word Count: 520
Disclaimer: Not associated with Eric Kripke or The CW. I'm just borrowing them. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Thanks to starxd_sparrow for the beta.
There were few traditions the Winchester brothers had these days since their family had dwindled to the two of them. Celebrations became an afterthought to the hunt or the escape.
More often than not, Sam would have to remind Dean of any major holiday to try and plan anything with the two of them together. Of course, that was before-before “The Deal.” Nothing really worked the same now. Sam zoned out after each hunt was done-lost in the haze of what horrific thing he had done to accomplish the mission coupled with his need to save his brother.
After three more battles against demons looking to help Sam gain his rightful claim as The Boy King, Sam remembered that Thanksgiving was only a few days away. Dean, of course, was ignorant of the time-choosing to spend his time enjoying the corporeal pleasures instead of worrying about the diminishing number of days he had left.
“Dean,” Sam said cautiously while Dean drove the car through Ohio, “you know Thanksgiving is Thursday, right?”
“Of course I do, Sammy. I’m already on top of our plans.”
Sam cocked his head in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, Sam,” Dean responded. “We don’t have any new leads on demons, so I thought we’d stop at this place I know in Illinois for dinner. Real nice people there,” he added nonchalantly.
“Sure, Dean, sounds nice.”
A pregnant silence filled the car as Sam couldn’t think of anything else to say.
In his head, Sam had plenty of other things to say about the impending meal, but he’d realized that Dean had stopped talking as much after that meeting with Gordon two weeks before.
They drove in silence to Illinois, and Sam figured the prospect of something normal for Thanksgiving was a far off dream.
--*--
The diner Dean remembered looked like any other run of the mill place Sam had seen. Nothing that told him dinner would be anything other than some dry turkey with too-salty gravy and a piece of pumpkin pie covered in Cool Whip.
However, once the brothers were seated and had ordered two turkey dinners, Sam noticed that everything seemed right-the waitress was friendly and didn’t mind working on the holiday. When the food arrived, Sam noticed how quickly Dean went at his turkey breast.
“Hungry, man?” Sam asked as he examined his plate.
“No, Sammy, I’m not. I’m just shoveling food in my mouth for shits and giggles.”
“Fine-you want to eat in silence. I get it,” Sam replied before he cut a piece of his meat.
Sam kept looking at Dean for some hint of what else to say, but his older brother just kept the food going into his mouth.
By the time Dean had had three pieces of pie-apple, pumpkin and pecan-Sam had long resigned himself to the fact that there was never going to be normal holiday for the two of them.
The younger Winchester allowed the silence to continue as they left the diner and enter the Impala as Dean drove them to Iowa where Bobby had said there was something going on that they needed to “fix.”
Title: Fresh Start
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters/Pairings: Logan, Veronica.
Rating: PG.
Spoilers: Through The Bitch is Back--set during their sophomore year at Hearst.
Summary: To call or not to call?
Word Count: 521
Disclaimer: Not associated with Rob Thomas or The CW. I'm just borrowing them. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Thanks to starxd_sparrow for the beta. At this point, all mistakes are my own.
He’d kept his promise to leave her alone. He owed her that much.
It was easier to do most days, he knew. They ran in drastically different circles (it was made very clear to him that any of her friends were no longer his friends after that day in the food court), and he’d moved out of the place she was most likely to run into him.
Instead, he found himself in a small condo, alone for the first time he could remember. Well, alone when he didn’t want to be.
He kept looking at the phone, trying to decide if he could call and invite her over. Not that he had much planned. He’d found a small turkey from the specialty market in town, and along with the Good Housekeeping cookbook that Trina had mailed him when he moved, he planned on making his first major holiday meal. Dick had gone off with his mother to Sacramento with her husband, which left him no one to eat with-unless he called.
Something in the back of his mind said that she might appreciate the call, especially if her dad was off chasing some loser to Texas. It was fairly evident to him that she’d closed herself off after May, even with that summer training with the FBI. This was more like the girl he’d teased and tortured after Lilly died than the girl who consciously worried about him cheating.
He gripped the phone tightly before instinctively dialing her number. He idly tapped his fingers against his thigh as the rings chimed in his ear.
“Hello, Mars residence,” she said flatly.
“Hi, Veronica, it’s Logan.”
“Hi." He heard her suck in a surprised breath before going on. "I didn’t expect you to call today.”
“Figured. I know we’re not really talking, but,” he paused, trying to figure out what to say next. “I bought this small turkey for Thursday, and I wanted to know if you’d have dinner with me.”
He could tell by the silence filling the line that she was processing his request.
“You’re cooking Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked finally.
“Yes, Veronica. Trina found a cookbook that I can follow, and I figure there’s no time like now to start new holiday traditions.” He tried to cover the years of neglect in his voice, but he knew something came out.
“Well, Mac’s got plans with her family, and Wallace went off to Chicago. Dad’s in New Mexico on some case, and I was planning on fixing a Marie Calendar’s dinner,” she trailed off.
“You’re coming over-that’s settled,” he retorted before she could say anything else.
“Since you insist,” she responded with a bit of glee.
“I do. Meet me at my new place at four. You need directions?”
“Please - you forget that I have ways to find you.”
“Fine. See you at four.” He clicked the phone off. A small smile crept onto his face.
At least he had something to look forward to tomorrow.
The cookbook sat on his kitchen table, staring at him, before he left the room to make one last trip to the grocery store.
Feedback is appreciated.