WC Fic: A Very Henri Christmas
Title: A Very Henri Christmas
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal, LOLCat Henri, ensemble
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Crack
Word Count: 1,800
Summary: Henri really gets into the Christmas Spirit thing; where he fails is the execushons
A/N: For Day 1 of my fourth annual Twelve Days of Ficmas Challenge.
----
Black Friday
Neal struggled through his front door with the large shopping bags he carried and leaned against it as if he was bracing it against a foreign intruder from the other side. He sighed mightily.
“Why for U sigh, Nealz?” Henri asked, interrupting his third grooming session of the day. He sat up on the top tier of his cat tree and regarded Neal carefully.
“Black Friday!” Neal gasped. “God, remind me never to do this again!”
Henri blinked. “Nealz - do not do de Black Fridayz again.”
“Thanks, Henri, but I didn’t mean it literally.” Neal walked into the apartment and down the hallway to his walk-in closet.
“Why for U put de packages on de toppest shelf? U knowz I can’t reach dem,” Henri informed him.
Neal grinned and then bent over to lift his cat into his arms. “That’s the idea, Buddy,” he said, snuggling Henri briefly before heading back to his living room. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Iz prezzies for me?”
“No, for Peter and Elizabeth.”
“Den why you hidez dem?”
“Because you can’t keep a secret to save your life,” Neal said, depositing the cat back on his cat tree and heading over to the stove to make himself a mug of tea.
“You wound me, Nealz,” Henri said, hopping down and trotting over to him.
“It’s not like there’s not precedent, buddy. Remember El’s birthday present?”
“She like de scarfess.”
“Yes, the 1987 Hermes I found at a thrift store and got for a song - that was my surprise to deliver, Henri.” Neal grabbed a bag of Temptations treats from the cupboard and deposited a pile of them on the floor unprompted.
“Om nom nom. All I do iz menshon de carriages. Nom nom.”
“Uh-huh.” Neal put the kettle on and dropped a teabag into a mug.
“What U get 4 me?” Henri insisted. Neal made a show of pressing his lips together. “Den I no tell U what I get 4 U.”
“It’s a deal. You know, when I was a kid, we didn’t have a lot of money. It was just me and my mom, and she said she’d be happy with anything I’d make for her.”
“You make de sushi?”
Neal laughed. “No, but I’d make her drawings and cookies and things,” he replied, then looked reflective. “Guess that’s where I really learned that I loved to cook… huh, never realized it before.”
The kettle soon boiled and Neal made his tea, then took it over to the couch and picked up the book he’d been reading the night before and settled down. Henri sat hunched over his Temptations, not finishing them, thoughtful. “Hrm, make de prezzies,” he said quietly, sitting up and cocking his head as the possibilities seemed endless.
Two weeks later
“What U do, Alittlebit?”
Henri was spending the weekend at the Burkes’ to visit with his daughter Simone, who lived there. He hopped up onto one of the stools at Elizabeth’s kitchen island and sat down primly.
“Oh, hi Henri - up from your nap?”
“Yes.”
“I’m making Christmas cookies,” she said, rolling the dough she had into a series of balls that she then dipped into a bowl of chopped walnuts. She placed them on a pair of waiting cookie sheets and pressed her thumb into the first set. “These are Neal's favorites.”
“Why for U dent dem?”
She smiled as Henri rested his front paws on the counter, watching intently. “You put jam inside and then bake them - they’re really good - oh, I almost forgot the apricot jam!” She wiped her hands on a towel and went to the pantry to retrieve the jam that was also Neal's favorite. “Henri!” she gasped when she turned around.
“Yes?” The cat had hopped up onto the kitchen island and was systematically mashing his front, right paw into the center of each of the unformed cookies on the second sheet pan.
“What are you doing?”
“Dese R 4 Nealz. I help.”
“Umm…”
“U fillz wit de jamz. We team up.”
“Jammy pawprints - yay,” Elizabeth said, almost enthusiastically. She was going to have to make sure those didn’t get stored with the others.
Christmas Eve
“It’s Christmas Eeeeeve!” Simone shrieked with delight, streaking through Neal's door and heading for the tree almost as soon as he’d opened it.
“Merry Christmas!” Elizabeth greeted him with an apologetic smile for the young cat’s overexuberance and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Neal just laughed. “Merry Christmas.”
After several minutes of settling everyone and putting gifts under the tree for their celebration - Moz and June were already in attendance, with Moz acting as bartender and guarding over the egg nog as protectively as a mama bear- they settled in for a pleasant holiday dinner.
“Time for presents!” Peter said after dinner dishes had been cleared away, and everyone gathered around the small tree in Neal’s living room for their annual gift exchange.
“This one’s for June,” Elizabeth announced, handing her a box that turned out to be an exquisite cashmere sweater from her and Peter.
“Oh my darling, you shouldn't have spent so much, but I’m glad you did!”
“A donation in my name has been made to the Brush Park Home for Children in Detroit,” Moz said. “Suit, you shouldn’t have,” he added, clearly touched.
“Well, anything else I might have gotten you’d have thought was bugged or something,” Peter pointed out.
“An astute observation. Here is your gift.”
Peter unwrapped a very nice bottle of Amarone. “Wow, this must’ve set you back a pretty penny - thanks, Mozzie.”
“Was that mine?” Neal accused, but Moz ignored him.
“Catneep mousies, I loaf dem!” Simone squealed from Peter’s lap. “Dey are pink. I name dem Pinky!”
Peter laughed. “All of them, Simone?”
“Dey R all my babies!”
Neal grinned, but then his attention was diverted by a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into June’s smiling face. “This one’s for you, dear.”
“Really? Thank you.” The gift was large and flat, relatively light. He tore the paper open and saw that it contained a painted canvas. He looked up at June. “Thanks?” He didn’t think it looked like any of the paintings he’d seen around the house.
“Don’t thank me, dear,” she said, moving away and eyeballing Henri, who sat at Neal’s feet with his tail tucked primly around himself.
Understanding dawned as Neal looked at the canvas again. The paint was bright and layered on very heavily, the figure in it outlined in thick black lines. Splashes of color surrounded the sole object of the portrait - for that was what it was, unmistakably.
“Is that me?” Neal asked. It might have been, though he wasn’t quite sure. It looked like a man, one that had been crossed with a cat. It had blue eyes and a human-like mouth, but there were pointed ears and the suggestion of a tail. “That’s how you see me?”
“Iz how U R,” Henri said proudly.
Neal frowned appraisingly at it. “Remind me to teach you about Fauvism, Henri.”
Peter, noticing the exchange, leaned over in his chair and snorted. “You call that art?”
Elizabeth got up and wandered over. “I sure do.” She cocked her head as Neal showed it to her more clearly. “You know, Henri, I don’t know if you’ve got plans for another gallery show anytime in the future, but… call me, OK?”
Peter looked at her incredulously. “There are paw prints in the paint,” he pointed out.
“Adds to the overall charm if you ask me,” Moz commented from behind Elizabeth, and Peter rolled his eyes.
“There’s one more present over here,” June pointed out. “Also for Neal.” She brought him a large box and inside...
“Henri, is this…”
“Is manger scene,” Henri told him proudly.
Neal lifted the thing out of the box and regarded it carefully. The barn looked like it was crafted from an old square bread basket, but it was the figures inside that were most interesting. “Wow, are… are Mary and Joseph made out of Temptations?”
Henri nodded.
“And cream cheese,” June pointed out from across the room, a twinkle in her eye. “He’s been stealing from the refrigerator downstairs for days now.”
“My medium iz deliciousnez.”
“Is the baby Jesus a… a hairball?” Moz asked.
“Oh, but look, honey, it’s wrapped in swaddling clothes,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“Oh my God, are the three kings dead mice” Peter asked, horrified.
“If they are, he didn’t find them here,” June said indignantly.
“Iz toyz,” Henri assured them.
“Well, they look real,” Peter declared with a shudder.
But Neal just looked down at Henri with a smile on his face.
----
Late that night, Neal settled into his couch with a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of Christmas cookies, all lights off except for the tree, and sighed contentedly. Life was good - he was one year away from his sentence being up, he’d spent Christmas Eve with the most important people in his life, and he had a nice buzz on. He felt the couch cushion move as Henri jumped up from the floor. Looking over, he saw the cat wend his way unsteadily toward him.
“Hic! I drink too much of de nog.”
“That stuff over there? That’s just melted vanilla ice cream, Henri.”
“Iz spiky.”
“OK.” Henri crawled into Neal's lap and curled into a ball, purring. Neal rested a hand on his hindquarters. “Did you have a good Christmas?” he asked.
“I do. Tank U for all de toys and de feather on de stick and de new bed for in de library and de new fud deeshes with my name on and de LitterMaid, Nealz.”
“You’re welcome. And thank you for the manger scene and the wonderful portrait of me. I have to say I was really touched. And it’s really good. I guess some of me is rubbing off on you.”
“June help me get de paints and to clean de paos, though iz just watercolors, and no oils.”
“Well, thank goodness for that. I’ll have to get her an extra thank you gift.”
“She iz nice lady and use de rose-flavored lotions on de paos.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want them to dry out. But seriously, Henri, I really, really love my presents, and that you made them with your own paos.”
They beamed at each other, and then Neal took a sip of his hot chocolate. “Mmm, that’s good stuff.”
“U haf de cookies?”
Neal looked down at the plate sitting on the end table beside him. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot about them. These thumbprints El brought are my absolute favorites!” He picked up a cookie and took an appreciative bite.
“You liek?”
Neal nodded and smiled.
“I help make dem too.”
The smile left Neal's face as he suddenly bit into something - a little too extra crunchy.
“Aww, Henri - is there cat litter in the cookies?!?”
----
Thank you for your time.
ADDED:
You guys, kanarek13 made the following cover for this story - it's so awesome!
Next chapter: LOLCat Henri vs. Doge
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal, LOLCat Henri, ensemble
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Crack
Word Count: 1,800
Summary: Henri really gets into the Christmas Spirit thing; where he fails is the execushons
A/N: For Day 1 of my fourth annual Twelve Days of Ficmas Challenge.
----
Black Friday
Neal struggled through his front door with the large shopping bags he carried and leaned against it as if he was bracing it against a foreign intruder from the other side. He sighed mightily.
“Why for U sigh, Nealz?” Henri asked, interrupting his third grooming session of the day. He sat up on the top tier of his cat tree and regarded Neal carefully.
“Black Friday!” Neal gasped. “God, remind me never to do this again!”
Henri blinked. “Nealz - do not do de Black Fridayz again.”
“Thanks, Henri, but I didn’t mean it literally.” Neal walked into the apartment and down the hallway to his walk-in closet.
“Why for U put de packages on de toppest shelf? U knowz I can’t reach dem,” Henri informed him.
Neal grinned and then bent over to lift his cat into his arms. “That’s the idea, Buddy,” he said, snuggling Henri briefly before heading back to his living room. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Iz prezzies for me?”
“No, for Peter and Elizabeth.”
“Den why you hidez dem?”
“Because you can’t keep a secret to save your life,” Neal said, depositing the cat back on his cat tree and heading over to the stove to make himself a mug of tea.
“You wound me, Nealz,” Henri said, hopping down and trotting over to him.
“It’s not like there’s not precedent, buddy. Remember El’s birthday present?”
“She like de scarfess.”
“Yes, the 1987 Hermes I found at a thrift store and got for a song - that was my surprise to deliver, Henri.” Neal grabbed a bag of Temptations treats from the cupboard and deposited a pile of them on the floor unprompted.
“Om nom nom. All I do iz menshon de carriages. Nom nom.”
“Uh-huh.” Neal put the kettle on and dropped a teabag into a mug.
“What U get 4 me?” Henri insisted. Neal made a show of pressing his lips together. “Den I no tell U what I get 4 U.”
“It’s a deal. You know, when I was a kid, we didn’t have a lot of money. It was just me and my mom, and she said she’d be happy with anything I’d make for her.”
“You make de sushi?”
Neal laughed. “No, but I’d make her drawings and cookies and things,” he replied, then looked reflective. “Guess that’s where I really learned that I loved to cook… huh, never realized it before.”
The kettle soon boiled and Neal made his tea, then took it over to the couch and picked up the book he’d been reading the night before and settled down. Henri sat hunched over his Temptations, not finishing them, thoughtful. “Hrm, make de prezzies,” he said quietly, sitting up and cocking his head as the possibilities seemed endless.
Two weeks later
“What U do, Alittlebit?”
Henri was spending the weekend at the Burkes’ to visit with his daughter Simone, who lived there. He hopped up onto one of the stools at Elizabeth’s kitchen island and sat down primly.
“Oh, hi Henri - up from your nap?”
“Yes.”
“I’m making Christmas cookies,” she said, rolling the dough she had into a series of balls that she then dipped into a bowl of chopped walnuts. She placed them on a pair of waiting cookie sheets and pressed her thumb into the first set. “These are Neal's favorites.”
“Why for U dent dem?”
She smiled as Henri rested his front paws on the counter, watching intently. “You put jam inside and then bake them - they’re really good - oh, I almost forgot the apricot jam!” She wiped her hands on a towel and went to the pantry to retrieve the jam that was also Neal's favorite. “Henri!” she gasped when she turned around.
“Yes?” The cat had hopped up onto the kitchen island and was systematically mashing his front, right paw into the center of each of the unformed cookies on the second sheet pan.
“What are you doing?”
“Dese R 4 Nealz. I help.”
“Umm…”
“U fillz wit de jamz. We team up.”
“Jammy pawprints - yay,” Elizabeth said, almost enthusiastically. She was going to have to make sure those didn’t get stored with the others.
Christmas Eve
“It’s Christmas Eeeeeve!” Simone shrieked with delight, streaking through Neal's door and heading for the tree almost as soon as he’d opened it.
“Merry Christmas!” Elizabeth greeted him with an apologetic smile for the young cat’s overexuberance and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Neal just laughed. “Merry Christmas.”
After several minutes of settling everyone and putting gifts under the tree for their celebration - Moz and June were already in attendance, with Moz acting as bartender and guarding over the egg nog as protectively as a mama bear- they settled in for a pleasant holiday dinner.
“Time for presents!” Peter said after dinner dishes had been cleared away, and everyone gathered around the small tree in Neal’s living room for their annual gift exchange.
“This one’s for June,” Elizabeth announced, handing her a box that turned out to be an exquisite cashmere sweater from her and Peter.
“Oh my darling, you shouldn't have spent so much, but I’m glad you did!”
“A donation in my name has been made to the Brush Park Home for Children in Detroit,” Moz said. “Suit, you shouldn’t have,” he added, clearly touched.
“Well, anything else I might have gotten you’d have thought was bugged or something,” Peter pointed out.
“An astute observation. Here is your gift.”
Peter unwrapped a very nice bottle of Amarone. “Wow, this must’ve set you back a pretty penny - thanks, Mozzie.”
“Was that mine?” Neal accused, but Moz ignored him.
“Catneep mousies, I loaf dem!” Simone squealed from Peter’s lap. “Dey are pink. I name dem Pinky!”
Peter laughed. “All of them, Simone?”
“Dey R all my babies!”
Neal grinned, but then his attention was diverted by a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into June’s smiling face. “This one’s for you, dear.”
“Really? Thank you.” The gift was large and flat, relatively light. He tore the paper open and saw that it contained a painted canvas. He looked up at June. “Thanks?” He didn’t think it looked like any of the paintings he’d seen around the house.
“Don’t thank me, dear,” she said, moving away and eyeballing Henri, who sat at Neal’s feet with his tail tucked primly around himself.
Understanding dawned as Neal looked at the canvas again. The paint was bright and layered on very heavily, the figure in it outlined in thick black lines. Splashes of color surrounded the sole object of the portrait - for that was what it was, unmistakably.
“Is that me?” Neal asked. It might have been, though he wasn’t quite sure. It looked like a man, one that had been crossed with a cat. It had blue eyes and a human-like mouth, but there were pointed ears and the suggestion of a tail. “That’s how you see me?”
“Iz how U R,” Henri said proudly.
Neal frowned appraisingly at it. “Remind me to teach you about Fauvism, Henri.”
Peter, noticing the exchange, leaned over in his chair and snorted. “You call that art?”
Elizabeth got up and wandered over. “I sure do.” She cocked her head as Neal showed it to her more clearly. “You know, Henri, I don’t know if you’ve got plans for another gallery show anytime in the future, but… call me, OK?”
Peter looked at her incredulously. “There are paw prints in the paint,” he pointed out.
“Adds to the overall charm if you ask me,” Moz commented from behind Elizabeth, and Peter rolled his eyes.
“There’s one more present over here,” June pointed out. “Also for Neal.” She brought him a large box and inside...
“Henri, is this…”
“Is manger scene,” Henri told him proudly.
Neal lifted the thing out of the box and regarded it carefully. The barn looked like it was crafted from an old square bread basket, but it was the figures inside that were most interesting. “Wow, are… are Mary and Joseph made out of Temptations?”
Henri nodded.
“And cream cheese,” June pointed out from across the room, a twinkle in her eye. “He’s been stealing from the refrigerator downstairs for days now.”
“My medium iz deliciousnez.”
“Is the baby Jesus a… a hairball?” Moz asked.
“Oh, but look, honey, it’s wrapped in swaddling clothes,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“Oh my God, are the three kings dead mice” Peter asked, horrified.
“If they are, he didn’t find them here,” June said indignantly.
“Iz toyz,” Henri assured them.
“Well, they look real,” Peter declared with a shudder.
But Neal just looked down at Henri with a smile on his face.
----
Late that night, Neal settled into his couch with a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of Christmas cookies, all lights off except for the tree, and sighed contentedly. Life was good - he was one year away from his sentence being up, he’d spent Christmas Eve with the most important people in his life, and he had a nice buzz on. He felt the couch cushion move as Henri jumped up from the floor. Looking over, he saw the cat wend his way unsteadily toward him.
“Hic! I drink too much of de nog.”
“That stuff over there? That’s just melted vanilla ice cream, Henri.”
“Iz spiky.”
“OK.” Henri crawled into Neal's lap and curled into a ball, purring. Neal rested a hand on his hindquarters. “Did you have a good Christmas?” he asked.
“I do. Tank U for all de toys and de feather on de stick and de new bed for in de library and de new fud deeshes with my name on and de LitterMaid, Nealz.”
“You’re welcome. And thank you for the manger scene and the wonderful portrait of me. I have to say I was really touched. And it’s really good. I guess some of me is rubbing off on you.”
“June help me get de paints and to clean de paos, though iz just watercolors, and no oils.”
“Well, thank goodness for that. I’ll have to get her an extra thank you gift.”
“She iz nice lady and use de rose-flavored lotions on de paos.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want them to dry out. But seriously, Henri, I really, really love my presents, and that you made them with your own paos.”
They beamed at each other, and then Neal took a sip of his hot chocolate. “Mmm, that’s good stuff.”
“U haf de cookies?”
Neal looked down at the plate sitting on the end table beside him. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot about them. These thumbprints El brought are my absolute favorites!” He picked up a cookie and took an appreciative bite.
“You liek?”
Neal nodded and smiled.
“I help make dem too.”
The smile left Neal's face as he suddenly bit into something - a little too extra crunchy.
“Aww, Henri - is there cat litter in the cookies?!?”
----
Thank you for your time.
ADDED:
You guys, kanarek13 made the following cover for this story - it's so awesome!
Next chapter: LOLCat Henri vs. Doge