Moaarrrrrr request fillage! :D
This one's for marinw, who hinted at something involving Barack Obama. And yes, it does involve him. Just...not in the manner one might think. XD Hopefully you can find amusement in this, dear. For some reason, this was the first thing that popped to mind when I was trying to figure out what I should write for you. LOL. ENJOY.
24: Holiday Madness II -- Jack the Halls
Christmas with the Obamas
Jack Bauer had a situation, and as it was with many situations that managed to find their way into his hands, it was one requiring his full and immediate concentration. Unlike most crises that Jack found himself elbow-deep in, this one was different. There were no ticking time bombs, no terrorists or hostages or threats of global annihilation--no, there was only the matter of a Christmas tree, and a gold tinsel-trimmed star that couldn’t quite manage to find its way to the top. Coming from the foyer to one of the many rooms in the White House, he could hear the conflict long before he even saw it.
“Stop it, Sasha!”
“I want to do it!”
“You can’t, you’re too short.”
“You can’t reach it either!”
“Can so.”
Jack stepped around the corner. The girls, Malia and little Sasha, clad in their plaid-and-red Christmas frocks, were huddled around the tree. From his place on the floor, Bo watched, wagging his tail. If dogs could smile with amusement, Jack thought, he was sure that’s what he was doing. On closer examination, Jack could see Malia had the advantage of a short stepladder, but still came up about a foot shy. He stopped in the doorway a long moment, watching.
“Malia, be careful,” Jack said with a smile. Malia, unaware that she’d been under surveillance turned and gave Jack a look that reminded him of the fabled cat, caught holding the canary. She promptly hopped down from the stool. Sasha bounded over to Jack and, with one small hand, tugged on the sleeve of his black Secret Service suit. In a hushed voice, as if telling Jack some secret of great importance, she said, “Mr. Jack, Malia won’t let me put the star on top of the tree.” Malia looked effectively scandalized.
“She won’t?” Jack looked at Malia with an expression of mock seriousness. “Malia, don’t you think it’s only fair you give your sister a try?”
“I guess,” said Malia begrudgingly. Jack smiled.
“Can you help me?” asked Sasha. “Malia says I’m too short.”
“Sure thing, kiddo. C’mon.”
The look of triumph on little Sasha’s face as she took the glittery gold star from Malia nearly made Jack laugh aloud. “All right, on three. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“One, two--” Jack lifted the small girl into the air. The star, at last, made it ceremoniously to its place. The girls clapped, and Bo wound himself around Jack’s legs as he lowered Sasha back to the floor.
“Thank you, Mr. Jack,” Sasha said, throwing her arms around Jack’s neck. Jack patted her back as he set her down.
“Don’t mention it, sweetie.”
“The tree looks great, girls,” a familiar voice spoke. Jack turned; President Obama stood in the doorway, an effortless smile on his face. Jack found himself wondering, inexplicably, just how the man managed to make the tackiest Christmas sweater--reindeer pattern and all--look downright dashing. (Yes, dashing was the word, and Jack wasn’t even bothering to try to convince himself otherwise.)
“Nice sweater, sir,” he offered.
“Isn’t it?” Barack laughed. “Joe picked it out. The man has a unique sense of humor. If you press the reindeer’s nose, it lights up.”
“You wear it well, sir.”
“I try,” chucked Barack. Turning to Sasha and Malia, he said, “Girls, why don’t you run upstairs and get those presents you made at school?”
“Okay,” both girls chorused and pranced off. Jack smiled and watched them go.
“They made you something in arts and crafts,” said Barack amusedly. “They told me to keep it a secret.”
“They didn’t have to do that.”
“They wanted to. They wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for us this year. The first year in office is always the hardest, and you’ve helped us all out so much. All of us owe you a big ‘thank you.’ Myself especially.”
“That means a lot, sir,” Jack said and meant it. “It’s an honor to be here spending Christmas with you and your family.”
“The honor is ours,” the President replied smoothly. Then, as an afterthought, he reached into the pocket of his grey dress slacks and pulled out a small, rectangular box wrapped in shiny red paper. “I got you something. I’m leaving it in good faith that you wait until tomorrow to open it.” Jack took the box.
“You really shouldn’t have, Mr. President.” Barack smiled and placed a graceful hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“Merry Christmas, Jack.”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. President.”
The two exchanged a meaningful glance. A moment later, the girls bounded back in, both toting small gift bags dusted in glitter and sequins. Malia wore an overstated green elf hat with bells jingling at the end which, upon reaching Jack, she pulled off and handed to him.
“You look like a penguin in your secret squirrel suit.” Jack smiled and put the hat on. “Much better,” said Malia, satisfied.
“We made presents for you,” Sasha announced. The girls presented him with his gifts--a picture frame made of popsicle sticks from Malia, and a clothespin reindeer with glued-on googly eyes and a red sequin nose from Sasha.
“It’s Rudolph,” she elaborated.
“I see,” said Jack matter-of-factly. “Thank you, girls. These are great.”
“Merry Christmas, Jack.” Both girls threw their arms around Jack’s waist. He found himself smiling despite himself.
Later on that night, the Vice President and his family arrived, and the holiday festivities began in earnest. Holiday tunes blared from the stereo. Jack danced with Sasha, who stood on his feet. Bo and Champ, the Bidens’ German Shepherd, galloped clumsily to and fro. A good time was had by all, and at the end of the night, everyone settled in around the fireplace in the great living room with the big tree for the traditional reading of “The Night Before Christmas.”
When all were seated, Sasha turned to her father and asked, “Can Mr. Jack read to us?” The question surprised Jack more than anyone else, but the President--not missing a beat, as he never did--simply beamed and said, “I don’t see why not.” He regarded Jack intently.
“You don’t mind, do you, Jack?”
“Of course not.” Barack passed him the old, weathered book--it had been in the family for years now--and sat back. Sasha leaned against his shoulder.
“Everybody ready?” asked Barack. Everyone was. Jack opened the book and began to read.
Toward the end, Jack noticed, both the girls fell asleep. Bo and Champ lay at his feet, tuckered out and snoring. For certain, this would be a Christmas that Jack would remember always.
Merry Christmas to all, he thought, and to all a good night.
FIN
HAPPY HOLIDAYZE, DEAR. :D
Two more, people. LOL.
24: Holiday Madness II -- Jack the Halls
Christmas with the Obamas
Jack Bauer had a situation, and as it was with many situations that managed to find their way into his hands, it was one requiring his full and immediate concentration. Unlike most crises that Jack found himself elbow-deep in, this one was different. There were no ticking time bombs, no terrorists or hostages or threats of global annihilation--no, there was only the matter of a Christmas tree, and a gold tinsel-trimmed star that couldn’t quite manage to find its way to the top. Coming from the foyer to one of the many rooms in the White House, he could hear the conflict long before he even saw it.
“Stop it, Sasha!”
“I want to do it!”
“You can’t, you’re too short.”
“You can’t reach it either!”
“Can so.”
Jack stepped around the corner. The girls, Malia and little Sasha, clad in their plaid-and-red Christmas frocks, were huddled around the tree. From his place on the floor, Bo watched, wagging his tail. If dogs could smile with amusement, Jack thought, he was sure that’s what he was doing. On closer examination, Jack could see Malia had the advantage of a short stepladder, but still came up about a foot shy. He stopped in the doorway a long moment, watching.
“Malia, be careful,” Jack said with a smile. Malia, unaware that she’d been under surveillance turned and gave Jack a look that reminded him of the fabled cat, caught holding the canary. She promptly hopped down from the stool. Sasha bounded over to Jack and, with one small hand, tugged on the sleeve of his black Secret Service suit. In a hushed voice, as if telling Jack some secret of great importance, she said, “Mr. Jack, Malia won’t let me put the star on top of the tree.” Malia looked effectively scandalized.
“She won’t?” Jack looked at Malia with an expression of mock seriousness. “Malia, don’t you think it’s only fair you give your sister a try?”
“I guess,” said Malia begrudgingly. Jack smiled.
“Can you help me?” asked Sasha. “Malia says I’m too short.”
“Sure thing, kiddo. C’mon.”
The look of triumph on little Sasha’s face as she took the glittery gold star from Malia nearly made Jack laugh aloud. “All right, on three. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“One, two--” Jack lifted the small girl into the air. The star, at last, made it ceremoniously to its place. The girls clapped, and Bo wound himself around Jack’s legs as he lowered Sasha back to the floor.
“Thank you, Mr. Jack,” Sasha said, throwing her arms around Jack’s neck. Jack patted her back as he set her down.
“Don’t mention it, sweetie.”
“The tree looks great, girls,” a familiar voice spoke. Jack turned; President Obama stood in the doorway, an effortless smile on his face. Jack found himself wondering, inexplicably, just how the man managed to make the tackiest Christmas sweater--reindeer pattern and all--look downright dashing. (Yes, dashing was the word, and Jack wasn’t even bothering to try to convince himself otherwise.)
“Nice sweater, sir,” he offered.
“Isn’t it?” Barack laughed. “Joe picked it out. The man has a unique sense of humor. If you press the reindeer’s nose, it lights up.”
“You wear it well, sir.”
“I try,” chucked Barack. Turning to Sasha and Malia, he said, “Girls, why don’t you run upstairs and get those presents you made at school?”
“Okay,” both girls chorused and pranced off. Jack smiled and watched them go.
“They made you something in arts and crafts,” said Barack amusedly. “They told me to keep it a secret.”
“They didn’t have to do that.”
“They wanted to. They wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for us this year. The first year in office is always the hardest, and you’ve helped us all out so much. All of us owe you a big ‘thank you.’ Myself especially.”
“That means a lot, sir,” Jack said and meant it. “It’s an honor to be here spending Christmas with you and your family.”
“The honor is ours,” the President replied smoothly. Then, as an afterthought, he reached into the pocket of his grey dress slacks and pulled out a small, rectangular box wrapped in shiny red paper. “I got you something. I’m leaving it in good faith that you wait until tomorrow to open it.” Jack took the box.
“You really shouldn’t have, Mr. President.” Barack smiled and placed a graceful hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“Merry Christmas, Jack.”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. President.”
The two exchanged a meaningful glance. A moment later, the girls bounded back in, both toting small gift bags dusted in glitter and sequins. Malia wore an overstated green elf hat with bells jingling at the end which, upon reaching Jack, she pulled off and handed to him.
“You look like a penguin in your secret squirrel suit.” Jack smiled and put the hat on. “Much better,” said Malia, satisfied.
“We made presents for you,” Sasha announced. The girls presented him with his gifts--a picture frame made of popsicle sticks from Malia, and a clothespin reindeer with glued-on googly eyes and a red sequin nose from Sasha.
“It’s Rudolph,” she elaborated.
“I see,” said Jack matter-of-factly. “Thank you, girls. These are great.”
“Merry Christmas, Jack.” Both girls threw their arms around Jack’s waist. He found himself smiling despite himself.
Later on that night, the Vice President and his family arrived, and the holiday festivities began in earnest. Holiday tunes blared from the stereo. Jack danced with Sasha, who stood on his feet. Bo and Champ, the Bidens’ German Shepherd, galloped clumsily to and fro. A good time was had by all, and at the end of the night, everyone settled in around the fireplace in the great living room with the big tree for the traditional reading of “The Night Before Christmas.”
When all were seated, Sasha turned to her father and asked, “Can Mr. Jack read to us?” The question surprised Jack more than anyone else, but the President--not missing a beat, as he never did--simply beamed and said, “I don’t see why not.” He regarded Jack intently.
“You don’t mind, do you, Jack?”
“Of course not.” Barack passed him the old, weathered book--it had been in the family for years now--and sat back. Sasha leaned against his shoulder.
“Everybody ready?” asked Barack. Everyone was. Jack opened the book and began to read.
Toward the end, Jack noticed, both the girls fell asleep. Bo and Champ lay at his feet, tuckered out and snoring. For certain, this would be a Christmas that Jack would remember always.
Merry Christmas to all, he thought, and to all a good night.
FIN
HAPPY HOLIDAYZE, DEAR. :D
Two more, people. LOL.