Coming Home Again (Gen) (G)
Title: Coming Home Again
Author: Jenny Starseed
Rating: G
Character(s): Carolyn/Herc, Arthur, Martin, Douglas
Summary:It's been a long and exhausting flight. Each of the MJN crew go home. A series of ficlets on the comforts of home
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1191
Author's Notes: Written for this CP prompt
Martin
Silly boy. It’s been three months since she’s seen Martin and he brings home the flu. Or the beginnings of the flu. The sniffles, the red-rimmed eyes and a slight fever. Sometimes she feels like has never finished raising Martin, the boy refuses to do sensible things. She takes his overnight bag and marshals him upstairs to his old bedroom. She tucks him into bed, but not with a bit of protest. He will always be such a silly boy.
Martin sleeps for most of the day and looks a bit better for it. He looks less drawn, more alert and tentatively more cheerful. Mrs. Anderson had given Mrs. Crieff a pumpkin from her garden. Pureed pumpkin soup will be made and served while Martin quietly chats about his job. She asks about his personal life and only gets an “aw mum!” for her efforts. Can’t blame a mother for trying.
She misses her son and wished he’d called more. Wished he had shared more about his life and was more open to the help she would willingly give him. But having Martin sit in her kitchen, eating her food and quietly engage in small talk was good enough for her. She’s grateful, and grateful mothers aren’t too picky about what their grown children offer them.
Carolyn
It had been an exhausting 18 hour flight. Carolyn felt like she had been ping ponged from one end of the world to another for a good two weeks, trapped with a bunch of flying idiots. Arthur was similarly exhausted and slept all the way home in the car. She woke Arthur up and pushes him to his bedroom, pulls out his favourite pyjamas (the ones with the flying toasters), changes him and tucks him in. She knows he’s too old for this, but she doesn’t mind. It reminds her of her more pleasant moments as a stay at home mom to Arthur all those years ago.
She checked her messages in the kitchen, half heartedly thinking that no one would really call her. There was a message from Herc, asking if she was alright and if she didn’t mind, he could come over with a green bean casserole and a foot message. It was only 5pm and it was too early to go to bed for her. Why not? She called him back and agreed.
Herc came over, kissed her on the cheek and brags about the new dish in his hand, his new improvements on the recipe (green beans are such a maligned vegetable!) and the perfect white wine he found to go with it. They had a gentle tete a tete on the merits of vegetable and cream dishes and whether it was cheating to win non-vegetarians over with massive amounts of high fat diary. She suggested that the dish would taste better with bacon and he made a particular face that aroused something deeply affectionate in her.
There was no foot massage, but a bit of snuggling on the sofa, a bit of bad telly and a lot of cream and wine consumed. The house had always felt so empty without Arthur’s bright and blooming presence, it was comforting to have a warm body next to her, gently teasing her and filling her up with hedonistic food. It felt like a new kind of home, one that was much cosier than she thought would be possible post divorce. She embraced it for once.
Arthur
Mr Albertson was a sixty-something widower who often took care of Snoopadoop when the Shappeys were out of town for long periods of time. It was Arthur’s job to pick up Snoopadoop from Mr. Albertson’s house. He liked Mr. Albertson and his woolly jumpers and the smell of stale shortbread that hung in his sitting room. Occasionally, Mr. Albertson would invite Arthur to come in to chat over tea, biscuits and an occasional lemon tart. The lemon tarts were brilliant. He loved the squishy puckering feeling in his mouth every time he bit into one. One of the best things about Mr. Albertson was that he didn’t make a big fuss over crumbs on the floor and table like mum would.
Arthur would tell Mr Albertson stories about MJN Air. In his stories, Douglas was always brilliantly clever and Skipper was dependable and knew a lot of things. Mum was usually a bit shout-y with passengers, but that only meant that she was happy. Mr Albertson would fill Arthur in on the little things Snoopadoop did while he took him out for a walk. It was usually stories about the things Snoopadoop chased and the nice mothers and children he would talk to on the way while walking Snoopadoop.
Arthur knew that his house was warm but lonely and empty without Arthur and Snoopadoop. It didn’t sit well with Arthur that Mr. Albertson didn’t have any family to visit him. Mum was always worried about being like Mr. Albertson one day, stuck in an old house with nothing to do with bad knees and a walking stick. Arthur did his best to reassure her that being Mr. Albertson was not a terrible thing. Mr. Albertson no longer had a shout-y job and he could wake up and go to bed whenever he liked. Most importantly, he had Arthur and Snoopadoop, tea, lemon tarts and good company. Surely life cannot be so terrible when you have the small things that make you happy.
Douglas
Despite what Martin thought, Douglas’s life was by no means ideal. His flat was still lonely and he lost touch with his old Air England friends out of shame for falling so far from where they stood. His daughters either resented him or didn’t know him and he was not friendly with any of his ex-wives. Not that he’d admit any of this. When all went wrong, there was one thing Douglas Richardson needed: a piano and an adoring audience.
His wit and musical talent was wasted on Martin and the Gerti’s intercom. When he had the time, Douglas would play the piano in an old cosy pub called the Fiddler’s Pub. He made many friends here and he knew the bartender well. In the bad old days, he would drink himself into a stupor in this pub. After two divorces and many stints of rehab, Douglas finally managed to stay sober for over ten years.
He missed his old friends at the Fiddler’s Pub and the bartender offered him one or two Saturday nights a month to play to the patrons. His repertoire was varied from jazz standards, a few Broadway tunes and maybe an old Beatles song. He was very popular and often collected massive tips when he played a request or two. Occasionally he’ll do his own lounge version of a top forty tune that earned him many accolades and applause. He would chat with his old friends and sometimes they would embarrass him with stories from his drunken years. He found love among strangers and former old drinking buddies. It wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to keep him from the lonely bottle of Scotch that was often hidden beneath his bed.
Author: Jenny Starseed
Rating: G
Character(s): Carolyn/Herc, Arthur, Martin, Douglas
Summary:It's been a long and exhausting flight. Each of the MJN crew go home. A series of ficlets on the comforts of home
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1191
Author's Notes: Written for this CP prompt
Martin
Silly boy. It’s been three months since she’s seen Martin and he brings home the flu. Or the beginnings of the flu. The sniffles, the red-rimmed eyes and a slight fever. Sometimes she feels like has never finished raising Martin, the boy refuses to do sensible things. She takes his overnight bag and marshals him upstairs to his old bedroom. She tucks him into bed, but not with a bit of protest. He will always be such a silly boy.
Martin sleeps for most of the day and looks a bit better for it. He looks less drawn, more alert and tentatively more cheerful. Mrs. Anderson had given Mrs. Crieff a pumpkin from her garden. Pureed pumpkin soup will be made and served while Martin quietly chats about his job. She asks about his personal life and only gets an “aw mum!” for her efforts. Can’t blame a mother for trying.
She misses her son and wished he’d called more. Wished he had shared more about his life and was more open to the help she would willingly give him. But having Martin sit in her kitchen, eating her food and quietly engage in small talk was good enough for her. She’s grateful, and grateful mothers aren’t too picky about what their grown children offer them.
Carolyn
It had been an exhausting 18 hour flight. Carolyn felt like she had been ping ponged from one end of the world to another for a good two weeks, trapped with a bunch of flying idiots. Arthur was similarly exhausted and slept all the way home in the car. She woke Arthur up and pushes him to his bedroom, pulls out his favourite pyjamas (the ones with the flying toasters), changes him and tucks him in. She knows he’s too old for this, but she doesn’t mind. It reminds her of her more pleasant moments as a stay at home mom to Arthur all those years ago.
She checked her messages in the kitchen, half heartedly thinking that no one would really call her. There was a message from Herc, asking if she was alright and if she didn’t mind, he could come over with a green bean casserole and a foot message. It was only 5pm and it was too early to go to bed for her. Why not? She called him back and agreed.
Herc came over, kissed her on the cheek and brags about the new dish in his hand, his new improvements on the recipe (green beans are such a maligned vegetable!) and the perfect white wine he found to go with it. They had a gentle tete a tete on the merits of vegetable and cream dishes and whether it was cheating to win non-vegetarians over with massive amounts of high fat diary. She suggested that the dish would taste better with bacon and he made a particular face that aroused something deeply affectionate in her.
There was no foot massage, but a bit of snuggling on the sofa, a bit of bad telly and a lot of cream and wine consumed. The house had always felt so empty without Arthur’s bright and blooming presence, it was comforting to have a warm body next to her, gently teasing her and filling her up with hedonistic food. It felt like a new kind of home, one that was much cosier than she thought would be possible post divorce. She embraced it for once.
Arthur
Mr Albertson was a sixty-something widower who often took care of Snoopadoop when the Shappeys were out of town for long periods of time. It was Arthur’s job to pick up Snoopadoop from Mr. Albertson’s house. He liked Mr. Albertson and his woolly jumpers and the smell of stale shortbread that hung in his sitting room. Occasionally, Mr. Albertson would invite Arthur to come in to chat over tea, biscuits and an occasional lemon tart. The lemon tarts were brilliant. He loved the squishy puckering feeling in his mouth every time he bit into one. One of the best things about Mr. Albertson was that he didn’t make a big fuss over crumbs on the floor and table like mum would.
Arthur would tell Mr Albertson stories about MJN Air. In his stories, Douglas was always brilliantly clever and Skipper was dependable and knew a lot of things. Mum was usually a bit shout-y with passengers, but that only meant that she was happy. Mr Albertson would fill Arthur in on the little things Snoopadoop did while he took him out for a walk. It was usually stories about the things Snoopadoop chased and the nice mothers and children he would talk to on the way while walking Snoopadoop.
Arthur knew that his house was warm but lonely and empty without Arthur and Snoopadoop. It didn’t sit well with Arthur that Mr. Albertson didn’t have any family to visit him. Mum was always worried about being like Mr. Albertson one day, stuck in an old house with nothing to do with bad knees and a walking stick. Arthur did his best to reassure her that being Mr. Albertson was not a terrible thing. Mr. Albertson no longer had a shout-y job and he could wake up and go to bed whenever he liked. Most importantly, he had Arthur and Snoopadoop, tea, lemon tarts and good company. Surely life cannot be so terrible when you have the small things that make you happy.
Douglas
Despite what Martin thought, Douglas’s life was by no means ideal. His flat was still lonely and he lost touch with his old Air England friends out of shame for falling so far from where they stood. His daughters either resented him or didn’t know him and he was not friendly with any of his ex-wives. Not that he’d admit any of this. When all went wrong, there was one thing Douglas Richardson needed: a piano and an adoring audience.
His wit and musical talent was wasted on Martin and the Gerti’s intercom. When he had the time, Douglas would play the piano in an old cosy pub called the Fiddler’s Pub. He made many friends here and he knew the bartender well. In the bad old days, he would drink himself into a stupor in this pub. After two divorces and many stints of rehab, Douglas finally managed to stay sober for over ten years.
He missed his old friends at the Fiddler’s Pub and the bartender offered him one or two Saturday nights a month to play to the patrons. His repertoire was varied from jazz standards, a few Broadway tunes and maybe an old Beatles song. He was very popular and often collected massive tips when he played a request or two. Occasionally he’ll do his own lounge version of a top forty tune that earned him many accolades and applause. He would chat with his old friends and sometimes they would embarrass him with stories from his drunken years. He found love among strangers and former old drinking buddies. It wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to keep him from the lonely bottle of Scotch that was often hidden beneath his bed.