15 Minute Ficlets: Holiday Edition
Title: The Cost
Author: Lyra
Rating: PG
Fandom: Dresden Files
Pairing: Thomas/Justine
Spoilers: Blood Rites
Synopsis: A mysterious package stirs up feelings Thomas would rather keep buried. Takes place between between White Night and Small Favour
Author's Notes: Written for evil_little_dog's holiday challenge.
The Cost
The package came on Thursday, sitting under the envelopes for the water bill, the rent, and Best Buy pamphlets trying to sell a technophobe a cell phone. What was a little surprising was that the package was addressed to me, not Harry, and I regarded that fact with a healthy dose of suspicion. Very few people knew where I lived now, and there was at least one of them who could conceivably want me dead. I prodded the box experimentally with a toe before picking it up and slitting the tape holding it shut. If someone was crude enough to send me a mail bomb, Harry’s wards had probably already shorted it out. If someone was smart enough to send me a magic bomb, well Harry’s wards would likely keep that out too. The worst I’d probably get would be a dead cat in the box.
Inside, there was another box, thin and clean, like the kind they use to wrap clothes at department stores. A sheet of plain white paper, folded once, rested on top of the box, and I picked it up before immediately dropping it as the contact burned. Either one of my relatives was playing a prank or I knew exactly who had sent the box. I grabbed an oven mitt from Harry’s kitchen and used it to unfold the note. Just a phone number.
Keeping the oven mitt on, I picked up the package and brought it with me over to the phone, punching in the number as I cradled the handset between my head and shoulder. Four rings, then a soft wispy voice, the sound of which hurt even more than the burned finger had. “Hello?”
I swallowed hard to keep the tremor out of my own words. “Justine?”
“Thomas!” The burn on my finger faded to the back of my mind as she spoke my name with obvious longing. “Did you get my package?” she asked eagerly.
A faint smile played on my lips as I used the oven mitt to lift the lid of the box. A scarf, pale white and obviously handmade, rested inside. For a brief painful moment I wanted to touch it, wanted to feel the softness of the yarn against my skin even as I knew it would burn me like red-hot iron. “I did,” I answered, hoping my voice didn’t give away the fact that my eyes were starting to burn. I blinked rapidly, willing the sting to fade. “You made this?”
The smile, the obvious pleasure, was unmistakable even over the phone. “I did. I wanted you to have it, Thomas.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the single rebellious saline drop that managed to leak out as I tossed the oven mitt to the floor. “You… shouldn’t have, Justine.” I bit back the hiss of pain as my bare hand touched the warm softness of the scarf. I held it there for as long as I could, feeling the skin blister against my knuckles, before choking out through the pain, “Thank you.”
Title: First of the Season
Author: Lyra
Rating: PG
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Ed/Winry, if you squint
Spoilers: None
Synopsis: One morning Ed wakes up and finds Winry gone. Post-manga.
Author's Notes: Written for evil_little_dog's holiday challenge.
First of the Season
When Edward Elric thumped his way down the stairs one morning, he found the fire burning in the stove but the kitchen empty. An icy breeze snuck through the back door, where someone had propped it just open enough to keep the latch from catching, wicking away the stove’s heat. Ed rolled his eyes and stepped out onto the back porch, swallowing a curse as his flannel pajamas proved completely ineffective in keeping him warm in a snowfall.
“Ww-Winry!” he chattered, grabbing at the hand of the blonde woman standing just outside the door. “Get back inside before you freeze to death!”
At his touch, Winry Rockbell turned her attention away from the falling snow. “About time you woke up.” Even sheltered by the eaves of the big yellow house, snow still managed to cling to her, a faint dusting of powder on fine blonde hair and lashes. “I came out to watch it snow for a second. I just love the weather this time of year.”
Ed rolled his eyes and tugged on her hand. “You’re letting all the cold air in,” he grumbled. “And Al needs his breakfast.”
Winry sighed loudly but allowed herself to be pulled back indoors. “Granny left oatmeal on the stove, Ed. You’re telling me you can’t use a ladle to move oatmeal from the pot to a bowl?”
“You’ll catch your death of cold standing out there,” he said stubbornly, closing the door behind him with a loud click. Winry’s lips twitched at his words, but she busied herself brushing the fine powder from her head and shoulders. As she did so, Ed ladled out three bowlfuls of the thick oatmeal, adding copious amounts of brown sugar to one.
“It’s the first snow of the season, Ed,” Winry reminded him as she placed spoons and a pitcher of cream on a large wooden tray. “I just wanted to go out and take a look.”
Ed added the three bowls of oatmeal and the sugar to the tray before picking it up and heading up the stairs, trusting Winry to follow. “I know,” he said over his shoulder. “And Al will want to go out and watch it too, after breakfast.”
Title: Holiday Cheer
Author: Lyra
Rating: PG
Fandom: House
Pairing: None
Spoilers: None
Synopsis: Can Christmas cookies bring the holiday spirit to House's staff? Takes place in Season 1
Author's Notes: Written for evil_little_dog 's holiday challenge.
Holiday Cheer
Allison Cameron scrubbed at her labcoat surreptitiously as the elevator began its ascent. Another cold wet winter, another set of parents wondering if their newborn had pneumonia. It hadn’t taken very long to convince them it was just a common cold, once she’d walked them through everything she was doing. Still, it was the third time she’d encountered the scenario in the clinic, and her patience was wearing thin, especially after the baby managed to spit up its formula all over her.
The elevator stopped with a quiet ding and she stepped off, making her way to the team’s office. The sight of House setting a jug of milk next to a platter of Christmas cookies stopped her short as she walked in.
“What’s going on?” she asked, gesturing to the set-up with a vague circular wave of her hand.
House ignored her until he’d finished pouring himself a glass of milk. “You mean, you don’t leave cookies and milk out for Santa? Must have been a sad deprived childhood.” Snatching a cookie from the platter, he took a seat at the table. “Biological clock ticking, Cameron?”
She blinked rapidly. “What? I was just down in the clinic.” Her hand rubbed absentmindedly at the lapel of her lab coat and she continued, “The patient was an eight month old girl-”
“She had a cold but her parents brought her in thinking it could be pneumonia,” House interrupted as he bit off the head of a gingerbread man. “Shouldn’t have taken very long to tell them they were over-concerned, over-Googled idiots, and that the best treatment they could give was to let the doctors handle the diagnosis and spare their child a lifetime of dealing with helicopter parents.” He paused long enough for a swallow of milk before continuing, “But the baby spit up on your coat, which means you were holding her pretty close. No need to get that friendly with a patient. If she’d been older that could be grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit.”
Cameron rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of the door interrupted her. “Who’s suing House now?” Chase asked as he and Foreman swept in. “And where’d the biscuits come from?”
“No one’s suing me. Just telling Cameron her biological clock’s ticking.” House crunched on the last remnants of the gingerbread cookie then stood back up, his free hand spinning the cane idly as he drained the glass of milk. Foreman snorted in disbelief as he dropped his files on the table and reached for a cookie. “I’ve got her all figured out.”
“Right, my being nice to people by holding their baby is the desperate screams of my dying ovaries. So do we have a new case?” Cameron sat down and glanced at the empty whiteboard. “You don’t expect us to believe you brought us cookies in the Christmas spirit.”
“Santa brought them. I’m just doing my part to appreciate the fat jolly man’s gift.” House set his empty glass back down and made for the door. “I’m going to see if he’s left me any more presents in the clinic. All I want this year is patients oozing mucus.”
For a few moments the only sound in the room was the crunching of cookies. “You really think he brought these in for us?” Chase asked, picking up a sugar-crusted star.
“Hell no,” came Foreman’s immediate answer as he bit into an iced cookie. “Probably lifted them from a reception the board’s having or something.”
Cameron ignored them, instead walking over to the sink and wetting a paper towel. As her colleagues continued talking, she scrubbed at the stain on her coat. The sound of the door opening, and Dr. Cuddy’s voice, caught her attention. “You three,” Cuddy said, glaring at them and pointing to the cookie tray, “need to stop House from stealing gifts from patient rooms.”
Author: Lyra
Rating: PG
Fandom: Dresden Files
Pairing: Thomas/Justine
Spoilers: Blood Rites
Synopsis: A mysterious package stirs up feelings Thomas would rather keep buried. Takes place between between White Night and Small Favour
Author's Notes: Written for evil_little_dog's holiday challenge.
The Cost
The package came on Thursday, sitting under the envelopes for the water bill, the rent, and Best Buy pamphlets trying to sell a technophobe a cell phone. What was a little surprising was that the package was addressed to me, not Harry, and I regarded that fact with a healthy dose of suspicion. Very few people knew where I lived now, and there was at least one of them who could conceivably want me dead. I prodded the box experimentally with a toe before picking it up and slitting the tape holding it shut. If someone was crude enough to send me a mail bomb, Harry’s wards had probably already shorted it out. If someone was smart enough to send me a magic bomb, well Harry’s wards would likely keep that out too. The worst I’d probably get would be a dead cat in the box.
Inside, there was another box, thin and clean, like the kind they use to wrap clothes at department stores. A sheet of plain white paper, folded once, rested on top of the box, and I picked it up before immediately dropping it as the contact burned. Either one of my relatives was playing a prank or I knew exactly who had sent the box. I grabbed an oven mitt from Harry’s kitchen and used it to unfold the note. Just a phone number.
Keeping the oven mitt on, I picked up the package and brought it with me over to the phone, punching in the number as I cradled the handset between my head and shoulder. Four rings, then a soft wispy voice, the sound of which hurt even more than the burned finger had. “Hello?”
I swallowed hard to keep the tremor out of my own words. “Justine?”
“Thomas!” The burn on my finger faded to the back of my mind as she spoke my name with obvious longing. “Did you get my package?” she asked eagerly.
A faint smile played on my lips as I used the oven mitt to lift the lid of the box. A scarf, pale white and obviously handmade, rested inside. For a brief painful moment I wanted to touch it, wanted to feel the softness of the yarn against my skin even as I knew it would burn me like red-hot iron. “I did,” I answered, hoping my voice didn’t give away the fact that my eyes were starting to burn. I blinked rapidly, willing the sting to fade. “You made this?”
The smile, the obvious pleasure, was unmistakable even over the phone. “I did. I wanted you to have it, Thomas.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the single rebellious saline drop that managed to leak out as I tossed the oven mitt to the floor. “You… shouldn’t have, Justine.” I bit back the hiss of pain as my bare hand touched the warm softness of the scarf. I held it there for as long as I could, feeling the skin blister against my knuckles, before choking out through the pain, “Thank you.”
Title: First of the Season
Author: Lyra
Rating: PG
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Ed/Winry, if you squint
Spoilers: None
Synopsis: One morning Ed wakes up and finds Winry gone. Post-manga.
Author's Notes: Written for evil_little_dog's holiday challenge.
First of the Season
When Edward Elric thumped his way down the stairs one morning, he found the fire burning in the stove but the kitchen empty. An icy breeze snuck through the back door, where someone had propped it just open enough to keep the latch from catching, wicking away the stove’s heat. Ed rolled his eyes and stepped out onto the back porch, swallowing a curse as his flannel pajamas proved completely ineffective in keeping him warm in a snowfall.
“Ww-Winry!” he chattered, grabbing at the hand of the blonde woman standing just outside the door. “Get back inside before you freeze to death!”
At his touch, Winry Rockbell turned her attention away from the falling snow. “About time you woke up.” Even sheltered by the eaves of the big yellow house, snow still managed to cling to her, a faint dusting of powder on fine blonde hair and lashes. “I came out to watch it snow for a second. I just love the weather this time of year.”
Ed rolled his eyes and tugged on her hand. “You’re letting all the cold air in,” he grumbled. “And Al needs his breakfast.”
Winry sighed loudly but allowed herself to be pulled back indoors. “Granny left oatmeal on the stove, Ed. You’re telling me you can’t use a ladle to move oatmeal from the pot to a bowl?”
“You’ll catch your death of cold standing out there,” he said stubbornly, closing the door behind him with a loud click. Winry’s lips twitched at his words, but she busied herself brushing the fine powder from her head and shoulders. As she did so, Ed ladled out three bowlfuls of the thick oatmeal, adding copious amounts of brown sugar to one.
“It’s the first snow of the season, Ed,” Winry reminded him as she placed spoons and a pitcher of cream on a large wooden tray. “I just wanted to go out and take a look.”
Ed added the three bowls of oatmeal and the sugar to the tray before picking it up and heading up the stairs, trusting Winry to follow. “I know,” he said over his shoulder. “And Al will want to go out and watch it too, after breakfast.”
Title: Holiday Cheer
Author: Lyra
Rating: PG
Fandom: House
Pairing: None
Spoilers: None
Synopsis: Can Christmas cookies bring the holiday spirit to House's staff? Takes place in Season 1
Author's Notes: Written for evil_little_dog 's holiday challenge.
Holiday Cheer
Allison Cameron scrubbed at her labcoat surreptitiously as the elevator began its ascent. Another cold wet winter, another set of parents wondering if their newborn had pneumonia. It hadn’t taken very long to convince them it was just a common cold, once she’d walked them through everything she was doing. Still, it was the third time she’d encountered the scenario in the clinic, and her patience was wearing thin, especially after the baby managed to spit up its formula all over her.
The elevator stopped with a quiet ding and she stepped off, making her way to the team’s office. The sight of House setting a jug of milk next to a platter of Christmas cookies stopped her short as she walked in.
“What’s going on?” she asked, gesturing to the set-up with a vague circular wave of her hand.
House ignored her until he’d finished pouring himself a glass of milk. “You mean, you don’t leave cookies and milk out for Santa? Must have been a sad deprived childhood.” Snatching a cookie from the platter, he took a seat at the table. “Biological clock ticking, Cameron?”
She blinked rapidly. “What? I was just down in the clinic.” Her hand rubbed absentmindedly at the lapel of her lab coat and she continued, “The patient was an eight month old girl-”
“She had a cold but her parents brought her in thinking it could be pneumonia,” House interrupted as he bit off the head of a gingerbread man. “Shouldn’t have taken very long to tell them they were over-concerned, over-Googled idiots, and that the best treatment they could give was to let the doctors handle the diagnosis and spare their child a lifetime of dealing with helicopter parents.” He paused long enough for a swallow of milk before continuing, “But the baby spit up on your coat, which means you were holding her pretty close. No need to get that friendly with a patient. If she’d been older that could be grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit.”
Cameron rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of the door interrupted her. “Who’s suing House now?” Chase asked as he and Foreman swept in. “And where’d the biscuits come from?”
“No one’s suing me. Just telling Cameron her biological clock’s ticking.” House crunched on the last remnants of the gingerbread cookie then stood back up, his free hand spinning the cane idly as he drained the glass of milk. Foreman snorted in disbelief as he dropped his files on the table and reached for a cookie. “I’ve got her all figured out.”
“Right, my being nice to people by holding their baby is the desperate screams of my dying ovaries. So do we have a new case?” Cameron sat down and glanced at the empty whiteboard. “You don’t expect us to believe you brought us cookies in the Christmas spirit.”
“Santa brought them. I’m just doing my part to appreciate the fat jolly man’s gift.” House set his empty glass back down and made for the door. “I’m going to see if he’s left me any more presents in the clinic. All I want this year is patients oozing mucus.”
For a few moments the only sound in the room was the crunching of cookies. “You really think he brought these in for us?” Chase asked, picking up a sugar-crusted star.
“Hell no,” came Foreman’s immediate answer as he bit into an iced cookie. “Probably lifted them from a reception the board’s having or something.”
Cameron ignored them, instead walking over to the sink and wetting a paper towel. As her colleagues continued talking, she scrubbed at the stain on her coat. The sound of the door opening, and Dr. Cuddy’s voice, caught her attention. “You three,” Cuddy said, glaring at them and pointing to the cookie tray, “need to stop House from stealing gifts from patient rooms.”