Happy Christmas... (Christmas 3)
Christmas Fic
Title: Happy Christmas
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Characters: Mozzie, Neal
Summary: Doesn't matter where you are, matters who you're with
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
262 words
"Red Sangria with a twist."
And the infamous brow raises… "This is what a half hour and decades of con experience procured?"
Ass.
"Be happy you got anything, Neal! We're lucky we're not rotting in that dungeon after that job!" Mozzie thumbs at the Tower in front of the Thames, a few miles off, and plops into the second canvas chair, pulling his half of the borrowed sleeping bag round his shoulders. Twin glasses are set onto their lovely shingled floor.
"I don't think the Beefeaters actually use the place for torture anymore, Moz."
Snip, snip, snip. One last cut and… Voila! The star of David, four times over. The last set of ornaments is done, a construction paper nest at Neal's feet.
Neal leans back, flexing undoubtedly sore fingers and sipping his amateur cocktail while Mozzie hangs the man's handiwork, clarifying how regulated the decorating of their pitiful holiday twig is.
But he suffers through this ritual for Neal, for the nostalgia it seems to bring him. Neal returns the favor by including as many celebrations as he can create with scissors. Crosses, stars, peace signs, yin-yang, and Mozzie's own favorite, relativity e. They can't afford to use lights up here; there's an alert out with their descriptions. Moz makes a mental note to leave a large unexpected departing tip to the chatty old woman whose roof they're borrowing.
They move to the shallow tent, watching the stars beyond their little reminder of home. Mozzie raises his glass…
"Happy Newtonmas."
"Happy Winter Solstice."
"Happy Hanukkah."
"Happy Kwanzaa."
"Happy HumanLight."
"Happy Christmas, Moz."
"Happy Christmas, Neal."
-
thanks for reading
all my fics
Title: Happy Christmas
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Characters: Mozzie, Neal
Summary: Doesn't matter where you are, matters who you're with
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
262 words
"Red Sangria with a twist."
And the infamous brow raises… "This is what a half hour and decades of con experience procured?"
Ass.
"Be happy you got anything, Neal! We're lucky we're not rotting in that dungeon after that job!" Mozzie thumbs at the Tower in front of the Thames, a few miles off, and plops into the second canvas chair, pulling his half of the borrowed sleeping bag round his shoulders. Twin glasses are set onto their lovely shingled floor.
"I don't think the Beefeaters actually use the place for torture anymore, Moz."
Snip, snip, snip. One last cut and… Voila! The star of David, four times over. The last set of ornaments is done, a construction paper nest at Neal's feet.
Neal leans back, flexing undoubtedly sore fingers and sipping his amateur cocktail while Mozzie hangs the man's handiwork, clarifying how regulated the decorating of their pitiful holiday twig is.
But he suffers through this ritual for Neal, for the nostalgia it seems to bring him. Neal returns the favor by including as many celebrations as he can create with scissors. Crosses, stars, peace signs, yin-yang, and Mozzie's own favorite, relativity e. They can't afford to use lights up here; there's an alert out with their descriptions. Moz makes a mental note to leave a large unexpected departing tip to the chatty old woman whose roof they're borrowing.
They move to the shallow tent, watching the stars beyond their little reminder of home. Mozzie raises his glass…
"Happy Newtonmas."
"Happy Winter Solstice."
"Happy Hanukkah."
"Happy Kwanzaa."
"Happy HumanLight."
"Happy Christmas, Moz."
"Happy Christmas, Neal."
-
thanks for reading
all my fics