Fanfiction: White Christmas (PG)
Title: The Phony Arm
Pairing/Characters: Bob Wallace, Phil Davis; Bob/Phil
Rating: PG
Fandom: White Christmas
Word Count: 627
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: Phil's phony arm acts up.
Notes/Warnings: Written for the 30 day AU challenge. The challenge for this one was Steampunk. No beta.
The Phony Arm
"Oh, damn, damn, damn." Phil Davis stormed into the dressing room he shared with his partner, Bob Wallace.
The shorter man turned to see the taller man fiddling with his right arm, which seemed to be stuck in a bent position. "What's wrong?"
"My arm seized up again," Phil explained, dropping his left hand when Bob walked over.
Taking the mechanical arm in his hands, Bob popped open the panel that allowed access to the wires and mechanisms. He watched them as he carefully twisted and turned Phil's arm, trying to determine what the problem was. "The doctor told you to be careful with this new model for the first few days."
"I know, I know." Phil ran a nervous hand through his red hair. "I got a little enthusiastic while I was dancing earlier."
He glanced wryly up at the lanky man. "A little enthusiastic?"
"Fine, a lot enthusiastic." Phil's mouth twisted into a wry smile.
Bob sighed deeply. "We'll have to detach it so I can take a proper look at it."
"Right." Phil nodded and Bob helped him out of his dress shirt and undershirt so Bob could access the control panel on his chest that would release the connectors that held the mechanical arm in place. Taking hold of the arm, the taller man told him: "Do it."
His fingers moved quickly and efficiently over the number pad, entering the combination from memory: 54918050. With a soft hiss, the clamps released Phil's arm and Bob carried it over to the portable workspace they carried with them. "I don't know why you insisted on this new-fangled system. The steam-powered one worked just fine."
"It was noisy," Phil replied from where he peered over Bob's shoulder, watching him remove the casing completely. "Everyone could tell my arm was fake and always asked how I lost it."
Bob didn't look up from his work as he carefully examined the elbow joint. "So? Everyone likes a good war story."
"That's the problem: it's not a good war story." Sighing, Phil left Bob to his work and changed out of the rest of his costume, pulling on his slacks with some awkwardness.
"You know you could make one up. Who would know the truth?" He finally found the part causing the trouble and fixed it, running the usual tests on it, including some not-so-usual ones.
Phil ran water in the sink, washing his face and hand before he answered. "You would know and, besides, I was starting to run out of ideas."
"That's news to me," Bob put the casing back on the arm. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought it was a real arm. "You never seem to run out of ideas."
His partner gave him a sardonic look. "Oh, that's very funny. Ho, ho, ho. The crooner is now becoming the comic."
"Fine, I earned that one." Bob stood up and positioned the arm against the stump of Phil's right arm. He took hold of it with his remaining hand and Bob entered the code that would engage the connectors: 45914101.
Once the connectors were in place, Phil looped both arms around Bob's waist. He shivered when the cool synth-skin on the right hand brushed his back where his undershirt had ridden up. "Besides, I like keeping that story between the two of us."
"You're getting sentimental in your old age." He grinned, sliding his arms around Phil's waist in return, splaying his fingers across the warm skin.
Phil grinned back, leaning down to brush his lips across Bob's. "As if you mind."
"You're right, I don't mind at all." He stretched up to return the kiss, smiling fondly. Phil drove him crazy at times, but he wouldn't have him any other way.
"Good."
End
Pairing/Characters: Bob Wallace, Phil Davis; Bob/Phil
Rating: PG
Fandom: White Christmas
Word Count: 627
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: Phil's phony arm acts up.
Notes/Warnings: Written for the 30 day AU challenge. The challenge for this one was Steampunk. No beta.
The Phony Arm
"Oh, damn, damn, damn." Phil Davis stormed into the dressing room he shared with his partner, Bob Wallace.
The shorter man turned to see the taller man fiddling with his right arm, which seemed to be stuck in a bent position. "What's wrong?"
"My arm seized up again," Phil explained, dropping his left hand when Bob walked over.
Taking the mechanical arm in his hands, Bob popped open the panel that allowed access to the wires and mechanisms. He watched them as he carefully twisted and turned Phil's arm, trying to determine what the problem was. "The doctor told you to be careful with this new model for the first few days."
"I know, I know." Phil ran a nervous hand through his red hair. "I got a little enthusiastic while I was dancing earlier."
He glanced wryly up at the lanky man. "A little enthusiastic?"
"Fine, a lot enthusiastic." Phil's mouth twisted into a wry smile.
Bob sighed deeply. "We'll have to detach it so I can take a proper look at it."
"Right." Phil nodded and Bob helped him out of his dress shirt and undershirt so Bob could access the control panel on his chest that would release the connectors that held the mechanical arm in place. Taking hold of the arm, the taller man told him: "Do it."
His fingers moved quickly and efficiently over the number pad, entering the combination from memory: 54918050. With a soft hiss, the clamps released Phil's arm and Bob carried it over to the portable workspace they carried with them. "I don't know why you insisted on this new-fangled system. The steam-powered one worked just fine."
"It was noisy," Phil replied from where he peered over Bob's shoulder, watching him remove the casing completely. "Everyone could tell my arm was fake and always asked how I lost it."
Bob didn't look up from his work as he carefully examined the elbow joint. "So? Everyone likes a good war story."
"That's the problem: it's not a good war story." Sighing, Phil left Bob to his work and changed out of the rest of his costume, pulling on his slacks with some awkwardness.
"You know you could make one up. Who would know the truth?" He finally found the part causing the trouble and fixed it, running the usual tests on it, including some not-so-usual ones.
Phil ran water in the sink, washing his face and hand before he answered. "You would know and, besides, I was starting to run out of ideas."
"That's news to me," Bob put the casing back on the arm. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought it was a real arm. "You never seem to run out of ideas."
His partner gave him a sardonic look. "Oh, that's very funny. Ho, ho, ho. The crooner is now becoming the comic."
"Fine, I earned that one." Bob stood up and positioned the arm against the stump of Phil's right arm. He took hold of it with his remaining hand and Bob entered the code that would engage the connectors: 45914101.
Once the connectors were in place, Phil looped both arms around Bob's waist. He shivered when the cool synth-skin on the right hand brushed his back where his undershirt had ridden up. "Besides, I like keeping that story between the two of us."
"You're getting sentimental in your old age." He grinned, sliding his arms around Phil's waist in return, splaying his fingers across the warm skin.
Phil grinned back, leaning down to brush his lips across Bob's. "As if you mind."
"You're right, I don't mind at all." He stretched up to return the kiss, smiling fondly. Phil drove him crazy at times, but he wouldn't have him any other way.
"Good."
End