for Pearl-o: "You Bring the Floats, I'll Bring the Confetti" (Wilby Wonderful) by lynnmonster
Title: You Bring the Floats, I'll Bring the Confetti
Author: lynnmonster
Recipient: pearl-o
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Pairing: Duck/Dan
You Bring the Floats, I'll Bring the Confetti
"...and today Mrs. Margot Mozer of Clam Cove celebrates her 111th birthday. Now, for WLBR weather, it looks like we're going to have a rainy weekend..."
The banner proclaiming Happy Birthday, Margie! snapped and rustled like a sail in the shifting breeze. Duck juggled the two plastic cups of lemonade and two overflowing paper plates he was trying to carry, and headed over to the edge of the grounds where Dan was sitting propped against a tree. Dan's eyes were shut, and either the shadow of his lashes or the shadow of the leaves darkened the skin over his cheekbones into something thin-looking and tired. Duck pressed one of the cups against Dan's wrist, and Dan started into wakefulness. "Finally cooling down a bit, huh?" Duck said, smiling just enough to let Dan know he'd done it on purpose. "Brought you some lemonade."
"So I noticed," Dan informed him dryly, and took the cup.
"Come on, drink up. We haven't even wished Margie a happy birthday yet."
"Mmm." Dan hummed in agreement. Duck eased down next to him and passed one of the plates over. They ate quietly. The noise of the picnic was muted; only the occasional thwack of a ball connecting with a bat or loud peal of laughter broke through the sound of the leaves rustling overhead. Duck watched the people milling about, loading paper plates with potato salad and barbeque and shrimp cocktail, chattering, and ducking the occasional wild ball. The Henderson's youngest raced past, pursing a cat with stray bits of streamer wrapped around it like a half-mummy.
Duck let an amused breath escape and Dan turned to face him.
"You're having fun, aren't you," Dan said.
"I like picnics. And birthdays."
Dan cupped the back of Duck's neck and squeezed briefly. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go," he said, and let his hand slide away, skating slowly over Duck's shoulder.
"Now you're making me want to get out of here as soon as possible," Duck said. Dan just smiled at him and stood, grabbing the used plates and cups. Duck levered himself up off the ground with one hand and walked with Dan back to the main party.
Irene gave them a reluctant nod as they passed, although her pinched look of disapproval had never changed. Duck raised his hand in greeting, but Dan ignored her. "A woman that sour, she must be poisoning herself with all that bitterness," Dan muttered.
"Leave her be, Dan. She's happiest when she's got something to complain about."
"She must be ecstatic we never moved away, then."
Duck snorted. It was true, they'd never moved off-island, although they'd talked about it years ago, around the time they'd decided to live together. They did visit Texas once, though.
"Texas was too hot, anyway," Dan added.
"We really must be married. You always know what I'm thinking," Duck said.
Dan smiled and knocked his knuckles lightly against Duck's temple. "You're just easy to read," Dan said softly, and brushed his thumb over Duck's eyebrow. Duck closed his eyes.
"Hey, you got a light?" an impatient female voice interrupted.
"Mackenzie, hi." Dan said, as Duck scrambled to fish out his Zippo and light Mackenzie's cigarette. She wobbled slightly as her high heels sunk into the grass.
"Careful of the hair!" she snapped, inhaling smoke and adjusting her designer suit.
"How's New York been treating you?" Duck asked.
"The smokes are even more expensive than they are here, but at least the packaging isn't entirely obliterated by these moronic warning labels."
"Mackenzie--" Duck started to say.
"Oh, it's fine. I'll be running the magazine within the next five years, and my boyfriend is a personal trainer. Plus, I'm making tons of money. Thanks for the light, I'm going to go rub my good fortune in Irene's face now."
Dan turned aside as Mackenzie teetered past them, but Duck could still see his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The plaid cloth of his shirt looked like a twisted grid, wrinkled and quivering with the force of Dan's amusement and tilted with the list of his customary posture. Dan's left shoulder was always a little higher than his right -- the slight difference became more pronounced with every passing year.
Duck's throat felt thick. He pressed his forehead against the back of Dan's still-shaking shoulder.
"Hey, wha--?" Dan twisted his head around and half-reached for Duck. "You okay?"
Duck lifted his head. "I'm fine, I'm great." He really was. "I'm just glad we came."
"Yeah, me too," said Dan.
On their way over to Margie's wheelchair, Carol swooped down upon them. "Duck, the banner looks great! Oh, and, Dan -- did you get my message? We'll be needing three more of those chairs for council room. I hope you guys can get them made on time."
"Carol, we can't possibly --"
"We'll pay double for the rush job."
"Well, maybe by November?" Duck suggested.
"Done. Sorry, can't talk, gotta go, the committee heads are waiting for me." Carol bustled off with a backward wave.
Duck turned to Dan. "You grew up on the mainland. Tell me, our women are just special, aren't they?"
Dan nodded solemnly, and Duck bumped him with his elbow and started walking. Dan loped alongside him, tall and broad and quiet like always. He still looked like everything Duck had ever wanted.
The breeze died down, and the sun worked at baking them with double the intensity of before. Dan's forehead was shiny, and Duck felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. They drew closer to Margie, who had a yellow paper crown perched on top of her wispy hair, and a small trickle of drool leaking out of the corner of her mouth. Dan approached her and lifted his chin, the way he always did whenever he was about to raise his voice. "Happy Birthd-- oh, she's asleep."
"Let's make sure she doesn't get sunburnt out here," Duck said, and he grabbed the handles as Dan lifted the footrest off the ground. They situated Margie at a table with a big umbrella and plenty of shade. Margie snored a little. Dan patted her hand. Duck pecked her on the cheek, and jumped as a heavy hand thumped him on the back.
"Do I have to arrest you for taking advantage of little old ladies?" Buddy asked.
"You caught me, mayor," Duck said.
"Don't remind me," said Buddy. "I'm pretty sure I preferred being a cop."
"Carol sure looks happy," Dan said.
"Oh, and tell her I think Deena's actually going to buy that painting hanging up at Iggy's," Duck added. "I saw her staring at it and looking at her checkbook last weekend."
"Why do people think that you're not as much of a horrible gossip as the rest of us?" Buddy asked with a smile.
Dan cleared his throat.
"Yeah, so, uh, take care," Duck said, and waved. Buddy left. "You're not still on about that, are you?" Dan scowled. Duck laughed. "You are so cute when you're jealous. Especially when it's all in your imagination. Come on, let's go home."
Duck linked their fingers together and rubbed at Dan's wrist with his thumb. They ambled past the long table piled high with presents, past the ballfield, past clusters of chatting friends and neighbors, past Irene's permanent scowl. "Well, if it isn't a parade of two," she said as they walked by.
"Yeah, I guess it is," said Duck, pleased with the notion.
"You don't react like a normal person," said Dan, shooting Irene a killing look.
"I'm luckier than a normal person," Duck said. "Who wouldn't want to have a parade?"
Author: lynnmonster
Recipient: pearl-o
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Pairing: Duck/Dan
You Bring the Floats, I'll Bring the Confetti
"...and today Mrs. Margot Mozer of Clam Cove celebrates her 111th birthday. Now, for WLBR weather, it looks like we're going to have a rainy weekend..."
The banner proclaiming Happy Birthday, Margie! snapped and rustled like a sail in the shifting breeze. Duck juggled the two plastic cups of lemonade and two overflowing paper plates he was trying to carry, and headed over to the edge of the grounds where Dan was sitting propped against a tree. Dan's eyes were shut, and either the shadow of his lashes or the shadow of the leaves darkened the skin over his cheekbones into something thin-looking and tired. Duck pressed one of the cups against Dan's wrist, and Dan started into wakefulness. "Finally cooling down a bit, huh?" Duck said, smiling just enough to let Dan know he'd done it on purpose. "Brought you some lemonade."
"So I noticed," Dan informed him dryly, and took the cup.
"Come on, drink up. We haven't even wished Margie a happy birthday yet."
"Mmm." Dan hummed in agreement. Duck eased down next to him and passed one of the plates over. They ate quietly. The noise of the picnic was muted; only the occasional thwack of a ball connecting with a bat or loud peal of laughter broke through the sound of the leaves rustling overhead. Duck watched the people milling about, loading paper plates with potato salad and barbeque and shrimp cocktail, chattering, and ducking the occasional wild ball. The Henderson's youngest raced past, pursing a cat with stray bits of streamer wrapped around it like a half-mummy.
Duck let an amused breath escape and Dan turned to face him.
"You're having fun, aren't you," Dan said.
"I like picnics. And birthdays."
Dan cupped the back of Duck's neck and squeezed briefly. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go," he said, and let his hand slide away, skating slowly over Duck's shoulder.
"Now you're making me want to get out of here as soon as possible," Duck said. Dan just smiled at him and stood, grabbing the used plates and cups. Duck levered himself up off the ground with one hand and walked with Dan back to the main party.
Irene gave them a reluctant nod as they passed, although her pinched look of disapproval had never changed. Duck raised his hand in greeting, but Dan ignored her. "A woman that sour, she must be poisoning herself with all that bitterness," Dan muttered.
"Leave her be, Dan. She's happiest when she's got something to complain about."
"She must be ecstatic we never moved away, then."
Duck snorted. It was true, they'd never moved off-island, although they'd talked about it years ago, around the time they'd decided to live together. They did visit Texas once, though.
"Texas was too hot, anyway," Dan added.
"We really must be married. You always know what I'm thinking," Duck said.
Dan smiled and knocked his knuckles lightly against Duck's temple. "You're just easy to read," Dan said softly, and brushed his thumb over Duck's eyebrow. Duck closed his eyes.
"Hey, you got a light?" an impatient female voice interrupted.
"Mackenzie, hi." Dan said, as Duck scrambled to fish out his Zippo and light Mackenzie's cigarette. She wobbled slightly as her high heels sunk into the grass.
"Careful of the hair!" she snapped, inhaling smoke and adjusting her designer suit.
"How's New York been treating you?" Duck asked.
"The smokes are even more expensive than they are here, but at least the packaging isn't entirely obliterated by these moronic warning labels."
"Mackenzie--" Duck started to say.
"Oh, it's fine. I'll be running the magazine within the next five years, and my boyfriend is a personal trainer. Plus, I'm making tons of money. Thanks for the light, I'm going to go rub my good fortune in Irene's face now."
Dan turned aside as Mackenzie teetered past them, but Duck could still see his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The plaid cloth of his shirt looked like a twisted grid, wrinkled and quivering with the force of Dan's amusement and tilted with the list of his customary posture. Dan's left shoulder was always a little higher than his right -- the slight difference became more pronounced with every passing year.
Duck's throat felt thick. He pressed his forehead against the back of Dan's still-shaking shoulder.
"Hey, wha--?" Dan twisted his head around and half-reached for Duck. "You okay?"
Duck lifted his head. "I'm fine, I'm great." He really was. "I'm just glad we came."
"Yeah, me too," said Dan.
On their way over to Margie's wheelchair, Carol swooped down upon them. "Duck, the banner looks great! Oh, and, Dan -- did you get my message? We'll be needing three more of those chairs for council room. I hope you guys can get them made on time."
"Carol, we can't possibly --"
"We'll pay double for the rush job."
"Well, maybe by November?" Duck suggested.
"Done. Sorry, can't talk, gotta go, the committee heads are waiting for me." Carol bustled off with a backward wave.
Duck turned to Dan. "You grew up on the mainland. Tell me, our women are just special, aren't they?"
Dan nodded solemnly, and Duck bumped him with his elbow and started walking. Dan loped alongside him, tall and broad and quiet like always. He still looked like everything Duck had ever wanted.
The breeze died down, and the sun worked at baking them with double the intensity of before. Dan's forehead was shiny, and Duck felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. They drew closer to Margie, who had a yellow paper crown perched on top of her wispy hair, and a small trickle of drool leaking out of the corner of her mouth. Dan approached her and lifted his chin, the way he always did whenever he was about to raise his voice. "Happy Birthd-- oh, she's asleep."
"Let's make sure she doesn't get sunburnt out here," Duck said, and he grabbed the handles as Dan lifted the footrest off the ground. They situated Margie at a table with a big umbrella and plenty of shade. Margie snored a little. Dan patted her hand. Duck pecked her on the cheek, and jumped as a heavy hand thumped him on the back.
"Do I have to arrest you for taking advantage of little old ladies?" Buddy asked.
"You caught me, mayor," Duck said.
"Don't remind me," said Buddy. "I'm pretty sure I preferred being a cop."
"Carol sure looks happy," Dan said.
"Oh, and tell her I think Deena's actually going to buy that painting hanging up at Iggy's," Duck added. "I saw her staring at it and looking at her checkbook last weekend."
"Why do people think that you're not as much of a horrible gossip as the rest of us?" Buddy asked with a smile.
Dan cleared his throat.
"Yeah, so, uh, take care," Duck said, and waved. Buddy left. "You're not still on about that, are you?" Dan scowled. Duck laughed. "You are so cute when you're jealous. Especially when it's all in your imagination. Come on, let's go home."
Duck linked their fingers together and rubbed at Dan's wrist with his thumb. They ambled past the long table piled high with presents, past the ballfield, past clusters of chatting friends and neighbors, past Irene's permanent scowl. "Well, if it isn't a parade of two," she said as they walked by.
"Yeah, I guess it is," said Duck, pleased with the notion.
"You don't react like a normal person," said Dan, shooting Irene a killing look.
"I'm luckier than a normal person," Duck said. "Who wouldn't want to have a parade?"