Final gift: For pwincess!
Sorry it is so terribly late. I hope you enjoy it regardless, as well as your dancing Elf!Emerson :D
Anyway, I've never written a PD fanfic AND I am a huge Ned/Olive shipper, so this was rather challenging for me. Chuck is my least favorite character as well so I had to do some thinking for this, so thank you for expanding my horizons. I hope I maintained as in-character as possible and that Emerson was hilarious enough for you :D
Merry Christmas!
Title: Emerson Cod Hates Mistletoe
Author: elphie_7/damnmuse (my writing journal!)
Rating: PG
Characters: Ned/Chuck, Emerson
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: In which Chuck decorates, Ned pouts, and Emerson relents.
"What did you do?" Ned asked, a confused expression creeping across his face. He cautiously circled the Pie Hole, ducking beneath paper snowflakes and wondering how so much red and green could possibly be missing from the world so as to end up drowning the restaurant in ... Christmas. He reached up and ran his fingers through the impossibly shiny hair of an angel figure, subconsciously pretending it was Chuck's hair.
"Do you like it?" Chuck asked; the excitement and anticipation lit up her face so clearly that Ned could hardly fathom telling her he didn't like the decorations that had obviously taken her hours to hang. "It wasn't all me, mind you," she continued, rounding the counter toward him, "Olive helped."
Ned bit the inside of his bottom lip. It wasn't that he hated Christmas; that was not the case at all. He remembered a time when his mother would let him stay up for hours baking cookies with her for Santa. He would dump half a container of sprinkles on each cookie while she smiled and baked them anyway. Ned's father never paid much attention to the holiday -- and certainly not after he sent Ned away to school -- but one of Ned's fondest childhood memories was of he and his mother baking in the cold December nights. Now, he simply ... left out Christmas every year. Sure, there was the egg-nog toast with Emerson and Olive usually showered him with strange gifts, but Ned hadn't really celebrated the holiday since his mother died. Until this year ...
"Ned?" Chuck asked, waking him from his apparent flashback.
"Yeah, it's good." he replied. Of all the things he'd told her, of all the secrets they'd shared, he couldn't bring himself to dash her Christmas joy. Besides, she looked as lovely as ever in her festive red dress and matching lips. Just as he was about to slip into another trance, the bells on the back of the door to the Pie Hole sang and Emerson Cod trod into the shop.
"Holy hell, what happened to this place?" Emerson dryly commented more than asked, his opinion obvious to Ned and Chuck alike. His upper lip curled as if someone had wiped a very nasty smelling substance under his nose and left it there.
"It's Chuck. She, uh, decorated," Ned replied.
"Thank you Captain Ned of the S.S. Obvious," Emerson added. Ned issued a just let it alone look to a bewildered Emerson, who promptly crossed his arms in annoyance. Chuck ignored this and stood next to Ned, a questioning look on her face as she peered up at him. Something caught her eye as she gazed lovingly -- For God's sake, Emerson thought, Give the lovey-dovey fairytale looks a rest for five seconds -- into a face she could never touch: a sprig of mistletoe that she had forgotten about swinging gently between her and Ned. "Oh," Ned blinked, not really knowing what to say.
"It's mistletoe," Chuck said.
"And thank you Skipper," Emerson snorted.
"Emerson--" Ned started, before realizing exactly what the mistletoe meant for the two untouchable lovers. An increasingly overwhelming feeling of sadness and desire washed over him as he added yet another complication to his and Chuck's relationship. But before he could bat away the offending plant and shake those thoughts loose from his head, Chuck skipped over to Emerson and leaned in toward his face.
"Pretend you're Ned, okay?" Chuck asked with a small, hopeful smile.
Emerson begged to differ. "Aw hell no, I'm not getting involved in this one," he scoffed, choosing to ignore the desperation in Chuck's wavering voice. "I'm not a performing monkey!"
"Please Emerson? Consider it your Christmas gift to me."
"That's it; I'm celebrating Winter Solstice from now on."
"Just do it, Emerson," Ned finally cut in, surprising even himself. He would have guessed that the thought of anyone but him pressing his lips to Chuck's would have driven him crazy, but the fallen expression on her face had convinced him that if he could not be the one to fulfill a Christmas wish for her, then at least Emerson could. Besides, Ned thought, It's just Emerson.
Chuck smiled and hopefully looked up toward the erstwhile Pooh Bear, anticipating a scowl and an unenthusiastic eye roll. She was not disappointed. "Fine, fine," Emerson finally gave in. "Just one. A small one. And don't get any fancy ideas; just one is usually all it takes for the ladies." Ned threw him a look that could only say yeah right and Emerson sighed heavily before leaning in and giving Chuck the lightest of pecks, pretending all the while she was Jessica Alba and he were a much younger man.
Chuck, for her part, was imagining Ned and only Ned; she breathed in Ned's soap smell and felt his lips against her own as if it were many moons ago and she was sharing her very first kiss with him all over again. Then Emerson noisily cleared his throat and Chuck opened her eyes to find herself back in the present day, staring into the face of one Emerson Cod.
"Thank you," she whispered, barely audible over the rush of adrenaline from "Ned's" gentle touch. "Merry Christmas."
Anyway, I've never written a PD fanfic AND I am a huge Ned/Olive shipper, so this was rather challenging for me. Chuck is my least favorite character as well so I had to do some thinking for this, so thank you for expanding my horizons. I hope I maintained as in-character as possible and that Emerson was hilarious enough for you :D
Merry Christmas!
Title: Emerson Cod Hates Mistletoe
Author: elphie_7/damnmuse (my writing journal!)
Rating: PG
Characters: Ned/Chuck, Emerson
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: In which Chuck decorates, Ned pouts, and Emerson relents.
"What did you do?" Ned asked, a confused expression creeping across his face. He cautiously circled the Pie Hole, ducking beneath paper snowflakes and wondering how so much red and green could possibly be missing from the world so as to end up drowning the restaurant in ... Christmas. He reached up and ran his fingers through the impossibly shiny hair of an angel figure, subconsciously pretending it was Chuck's hair.
"Do you like it?" Chuck asked; the excitement and anticipation lit up her face so clearly that Ned could hardly fathom telling her he didn't like the decorations that had obviously taken her hours to hang. "It wasn't all me, mind you," she continued, rounding the counter toward him, "Olive helped."
Ned bit the inside of his bottom lip. It wasn't that he hated Christmas; that was not the case at all. He remembered a time when his mother would let him stay up for hours baking cookies with her for Santa. He would dump half a container of sprinkles on each cookie while she smiled and baked them anyway. Ned's father never paid much attention to the holiday -- and certainly not after he sent Ned away to school -- but one of Ned's fondest childhood memories was of he and his mother baking in the cold December nights. Now, he simply ... left out Christmas every year. Sure, there was the egg-nog toast with Emerson and Olive usually showered him with strange gifts, but Ned hadn't really celebrated the holiday since his mother died. Until this year ...
"Ned?" Chuck asked, waking him from his apparent flashback.
"Yeah, it's good." he replied. Of all the things he'd told her, of all the secrets they'd shared, he couldn't bring himself to dash her Christmas joy. Besides, she looked as lovely as ever in her festive red dress and matching lips. Just as he was about to slip into another trance, the bells on the back of the door to the Pie Hole sang and Emerson Cod trod into the shop.
"Holy hell, what happened to this place?" Emerson dryly commented more than asked, his opinion obvious to Ned and Chuck alike. His upper lip curled as if someone had wiped a very nasty smelling substance under his nose and left it there.
"It's Chuck. She, uh, decorated," Ned replied.
"Thank you Captain Ned of the S.S. Obvious," Emerson added. Ned issued a just let it alone look to a bewildered Emerson, who promptly crossed his arms in annoyance. Chuck ignored this and stood next to Ned, a questioning look on her face as she peered up at him. Something caught her eye as she gazed lovingly -- For God's sake, Emerson thought, Give the lovey-dovey fairytale looks a rest for five seconds -- into a face she could never touch: a sprig of mistletoe that she had forgotten about swinging gently between her and Ned. "Oh," Ned blinked, not really knowing what to say.
"It's mistletoe," Chuck said.
"And thank you Skipper," Emerson snorted.
"Emerson--" Ned started, before realizing exactly what the mistletoe meant for the two untouchable lovers. An increasingly overwhelming feeling of sadness and desire washed over him as he added yet another complication to his and Chuck's relationship. But before he could bat away the offending plant and shake those thoughts loose from his head, Chuck skipped over to Emerson and leaned in toward his face.
"Pretend you're Ned, okay?" Chuck asked with a small, hopeful smile.
Emerson begged to differ. "Aw hell no, I'm not getting involved in this one," he scoffed, choosing to ignore the desperation in Chuck's wavering voice. "I'm not a performing monkey!"
"Please Emerson? Consider it your Christmas gift to me."
"That's it; I'm celebrating Winter Solstice from now on."
"Just do it, Emerson," Ned finally cut in, surprising even himself. He would have guessed that the thought of anyone but him pressing his lips to Chuck's would have driven him crazy, but the fallen expression on her face had convinced him that if he could not be the one to fulfill a Christmas wish for her, then at least Emerson could. Besides, Ned thought, It's just Emerson.
Chuck smiled and hopefully looked up toward the erstwhile Pooh Bear, anticipating a scowl and an unenthusiastic eye roll. She was not disappointed. "Fine, fine," Emerson finally gave in. "Just one. A small one. And don't get any fancy ideas; just one is usually all it takes for the ladies." Ned threw him a look that could only say yeah right and Emerson sighed heavily before leaning in and giving Chuck the lightest of pecks, pretending all the while she was Jessica Alba and he were a much younger man.
Chuck, for her part, was imagining Ned and only Ned; she breathed in Ned's soap smell and felt his lips against her own as if it were many moons ago and she was sharing her very first kiss with him all over again. Then Emerson noisily cleared his throat and Chuck opened her eyes to find herself back in the present day, staring into the face of one Emerson Cod.
"Thank you," she whispered, barely audible over the rush of adrenaline from "Ned's" gentle touch. "Merry Christmas."