A-caroling, a-caroling...
Another five ficlets for you. Today's theme is carol or caroling. All but one went gen on this prompt (including one that's gotten a little re-re-directed since yesterday -- check the notes).
Title: untitled
Word Count: 100
Type: Gen
Rating: PG (ainm-rated)
Author: maaaaa
“Did someone tell you at some point in your life that you could sing, Sandburg?” Simon growled, wiggling a finger in his ear for effect.
Looking sheepish, Blair replied, “Um, Naomi? When I was in the second grade I was in---,”
Waving his hand, Simon interrupted, sounding gruff and exasperated. “Never mind.”
Blair looked at Jim and mouthed, “That bad?”
Jim nodded gravely.
Looking dejected, Blair turned to leave.
Simon sighed, gave Jim a pointed look, and relented, “Dammit, Sandburg, it was your idea to carol at Miss Lecroix’s building in the first place. Get your ass back here.”
Title: Cattle are Lowing
Word Count: 268
Type: Gen
Rating: G
Note: Set post show; no spoilers.
Author: janedavitt
The Cattle are Lowing
Jim stood in the throng of carolers and tried not to wince. Good hearing didn't necessarily mean perfect pitch for most people, but for a Sentinel, apparently it came with the package.
Thirty people, good cops, nice people, and not one of them could carry a tune in the proverbial bucket. He was in agony here and the clink and rustle of money dropped into the collecting tins for the orphans was the only welcome sound.
His feet were wet and cold, too.
Resolutely miming to 'Away in a Manger' because he wasn't going to be part of the massacre of one of his favorite carols, he let his thoughts stray to Mary and Joseph's dilemma. Today, they'd go to a shelter, he supposed; in a small town they might even get moved on as vagrants.
He wondered what he'd do if someone turned up on his doorstep, homeless, in need, desperate for a place to sleep. Easy to blame the innkeeper and call him hardhearted, but nowadays with fire regulations and occupancy limits, Mary and Joseph wouldn't have fared much better.
Blair elbowed him in the ribs, reminding him of one waif and stray he'd taken in. A week? It had been four years now, and Blair was showing no signs of leaving, not that Jim wanted him to. "Sing, will you?" Blair hissed. "Pretend you're in the shower."
In the press of people, Jim could get away with goosing Blair. The resultant yelp was a perfect C that rang out loud and clear.
Jim grinned and joined in for the final chorus.
Title: untitled
Word Count: 100
Type: Gen
Rating: G
Author: roslynsmuse
“Which pieces are you going to sing this year?”
Jim listened with half an ear, as Blair helped plan some Rainier holiday alumni blowout over the phone.
“You have enough voices for background harmony with that one? Who, me? Oh, no. I can carry a tune but will stray into the main melody.”
Amused, Jim noted the brilliance of that reason for avoiding singing in the group.
“Sure, I'll get on the refreshments right away. Bye, Carol.”
“Who's that, Chief?”
“No idea. We only talk before this annual party.”
“Ah, she's a Christmas Carol.”
“I can't believe you said that.”
Title: to Organize a Christmas Caroling Party: Step by Step Instructions
Word Count: ~500
Type: Gen - note that yesterday this continuing fic looked like it was going pre-slash, but the author is heading it gen again, FYI. This piece is definitely gen.
Rating: G
Note: follows " Something stupid " (it isn't obvious in this piece, but this is in fact part of the larger continuing "they knew Blair before" story)
Author: banbury
How to Organize a Christmas Caroling Party: Step by Step Instructions
Jim peeked out the corner of the snack-machine, he was hiding behind. It seemed there was nothing out of order in the bullpen, but he knew better. Joel was in command in organizing a Christmas caroling party. Furthermore, he asked Blair how to do it in the most scientific way. Blair introduced him to some efficient WWW search engines.
Jim could hear their voices murmuring under the usual high-level hubbub of the room.
“Step One. So, Joel, just ask them, that’s it.” Jim heard light tapping on the hand and Joel’s sigh.
“Guys,” Joel cleared his throat, “and ladies. I know who could sing on key, so don’t embarrass yourself and just sign this form.” Jim heard low murmur, steps and shuffle of the paper.
“Amazing, Joel. Now to step two.” Blair was an embodiment of positive encouragements.
“Okay, those who are not on the list should come here to help me decorate the bullpen an hour before.” There was some weak protests, but not many.
“Okay, Blair, I think I can do it myself now. Step three, right?” Joel took a deep breath. “Do any of you have a book of Christmas carols?” After the short period Joel scrubbed something, “Okay, I’ll bring more of them.”
“Now the easiest part for you, guys, Ronda’ll buy candles and paper plates for the proper picture and Blair agreed to make finger food and snacks. Therefore, all you need to bring is something to drink. And no, guys, no beer.”
Joel sighed contentedly and began to shuffle pages again. Blair gave a cough. "Um? Oh, sorry, Blair, you are right. Guys, listen to me! We’ll have a little snack in the bullpen, and then we’re heading to the other floors to sing carols to everyone.”
Deadly silence was the only answer to the last statement.
Jim was the one who heard an inaudible mutter. “Blair, Blair! Don’t you think the last step was a mistake? Maybe we’d found the wrong instructions?”
tbc...
Title: That Song
Word Count: ~500
Type: Pre-slash
Rating: PG in theme, R for a quick spot of language
Note: follows "Beacon", and really won't make sense without having read that first. This is both complete and completely cliff-hangery at the same time. :-) Rest assured that it will be finished, though it's not clear for which prompt yet...
Author: ainm
That Song
"I'll be home for Christmas, you can count on me..."
Jim slapped at the radio dial with more force than was necessary. He was almost at the station anyway.
...
"I'll be home for Christmas, if the fates allow..."
Jim snarled at H as he came singing into the bullpen, and stomped away to the breakroom.
...
"I'll be home for Christmas--"
Jim didn't make it all the way into the grocery store -- as soon as he neared the automatic doors and heard that song playing inside, he decided it didn't matter what he was going to buy, he could do without.
...
"I'll be home--"
Jim gave up on the idea of TV and instead just sat in his accustomed spot next to his getting-overburdened table of candles, with only their glow to light the loft.
He knew the words to that song -- no matter how it started, it was not a song about really being home for Christmas. If only in my dreams... Jim needed Blair to truly come home; dreams were not enough.
Not that there hadn't been plenty of dreams. Jim knew he was spending more time sleeping than he probably should. Partly it was because for the first week or so he had hardly slept at all -- he had gotten dangerously sleep-deprived and had quite a backlog to make up for. But also it was because the dreams were preferable to being awake. Blair was home in his dreams, home and with him.
With a start, Jim shook himself from the beginnings of a doze when he realized that he was humming the tune to the damn song. Frustrated, he went to heat water for tea.
As he stood there, he fancied that he felt a vibration begin, some sort of hum that he felt in his bones. Concentrating on it, he decided that it wasn't coming from an external source, but rather truly was some sort of subsonic tremor from deep inside himself. Which was of course ridiculous, and just one more sign that he was losing it completely. Wonderful.
Swishing his herbal teabag through the water in his mug for no other reason than it gave him something to do, he realized that tomorrow night was Christmas Eve, and wondered idly if he'd actually make it to the new year.
Damn it, he was humming that song again! It had been haunting him all day, filling him with a sense of frustration and anger and hopelessness, but... somehow it seemed different now. And realizing that, he realized that he wasn't just humming it, he was humming along with it.
No... it couldn't be... that would be too much of a fucking Christmas miracle for this old soldier to believe in. But... damn, that sounded like Blair... in the hall... humming that song... turning his key in the lock...
...his feet moved him closer to the door without his mind's active participation...
...and though he'd been convinced it was a hallucination, the door really opened...
"Hi, Jim."
Title: untitled
Word Count: 100
Type: Gen
Rating: PG (ainm-rated)
Author: maaaaa
“Did someone tell you at some point in your life that you could sing, Sandburg?” Simon growled, wiggling a finger in his ear for effect.
Looking sheepish, Blair replied, “Um, Naomi? When I was in the second grade I was in---,”
Waving his hand, Simon interrupted, sounding gruff and exasperated. “Never mind.”
Blair looked at Jim and mouthed, “That bad?”
Jim nodded gravely.
Looking dejected, Blair turned to leave.
Simon sighed, gave Jim a pointed look, and relented, “Dammit, Sandburg, it was your idea to carol at Miss Lecroix’s building in the first place. Get your ass back here.”
Title: Cattle are Lowing
Word Count: 268
Type: Gen
Rating: G
Note: Set post show; no spoilers.
Author: janedavitt
The Cattle are Lowing
Jim stood in the throng of carolers and tried not to wince. Good hearing didn't necessarily mean perfect pitch for most people, but for a Sentinel, apparently it came with the package.
Thirty people, good cops, nice people, and not one of them could carry a tune in the proverbial bucket. He was in agony here and the clink and rustle of money dropped into the collecting tins for the orphans was the only welcome sound.
His feet were wet and cold, too.
Resolutely miming to 'Away in a Manger' because he wasn't going to be part of the massacre of one of his favorite carols, he let his thoughts stray to Mary and Joseph's dilemma. Today, they'd go to a shelter, he supposed; in a small town they might even get moved on as vagrants.
He wondered what he'd do if someone turned up on his doorstep, homeless, in need, desperate for a place to sleep. Easy to blame the innkeeper and call him hardhearted, but nowadays with fire regulations and occupancy limits, Mary and Joseph wouldn't have fared much better.
Blair elbowed him in the ribs, reminding him of one waif and stray he'd taken in. A week? It had been four years now, and Blair was showing no signs of leaving, not that Jim wanted him to. "Sing, will you?" Blair hissed. "Pretend you're in the shower."
In the press of people, Jim could get away with goosing Blair. The resultant yelp was a perfect C that rang out loud and clear.
Jim grinned and joined in for the final chorus.
Title: untitled
Word Count: 100
Type: Gen
Rating: G
Author: roslynsmuse
“Which pieces are you going to sing this year?”
Jim listened with half an ear, as Blair helped plan some Rainier holiday alumni blowout over the phone.
“You have enough voices for background harmony with that one? Who, me? Oh, no. I can carry a tune but will stray into the main melody.”
Amused, Jim noted the brilliance of that reason for avoiding singing in the group.
“Sure, I'll get on the refreshments right away. Bye, Carol.”
“Who's that, Chief?”
“No idea. We only talk before this annual party.”
“Ah, she's a Christmas Carol.”
“I can't believe you said that.”
Title: to Organize a Christmas Caroling Party: Step by Step Instructions
Word Count: ~500
Type: Gen - note that yesterday this continuing fic looked like it was going pre-slash, but the author is heading it gen again, FYI. This piece is definitely gen.
Rating: G
Note: follows " Something stupid " (it isn't obvious in this piece, but this is in fact part of the larger continuing "they knew Blair before" story)
Author: banbury
How to Organize a Christmas Caroling Party: Step by Step Instructions
Jim peeked out the corner of the snack-machine, he was hiding behind. It seemed there was nothing out of order in the bullpen, but he knew better. Joel was in command in organizing a Christmas caroling party. Furthermore, he asked Blair how to do it in the most scientific way. Blair introduced him to some efficient WWW search engines.
Jim could hear their voices murmuring under the usual high-level hubbub of the room.
“Step One. So, Joel, just ask them, that’s it.” Jim heard light tapping on the hand and Joel’s sigh.
“Guys,” Joel cleared his throat, “and ladies. I know who could sing on key, so don’t embarrass yourself and just sign this form.” Jim heard low murmur, steps and shuffle of the paper.
“Amazing, Joel. Now to step two.” Blair was an embodiment of positive encouragements.
“Okay, those who are not on the list should come here to help me decorate the bullpen an hour before.” There was some weak protests, but not many.
“Okay, Blair, I think I can do it myself now. Step three, right?” Joel took a deep breath. “Do any of you have a book of Christmas carols?” After the short period Joel scrubbed something, “Okay, I’ll bring more of them.”
“Now the easiest part for you, guys, Ronda’ll buy candles and paper plates for the proper picture and Blair agreed to make finger food and snacks. Therefore, all you need to bring is something to drink. And no, guys, no beer.”
Joel sighed contentedly and began to shuffle pages again. Blair gave a cough. "Um? Oh, sorry, Blair, you are right. Guys, listen to me! We’ll have a little snack in the bullpen, and then we’re heading to the other floors to sing carols to everyone.”
Deadly silence was the only answer to the last statement.
Jim was the one who heard an inaudible mutter. “Blair, Blair! Don’t you think the last step was a mistake? Maybe we’d found the wrong instructions?”
tbc...
Title: That Song
Word Count: ~500
Type: Pre-slash
Rating: PG in theme, R for a quick spot of language
Note: follows "Beacon", and really won't make sense without having read that first. This is both complete and completely cliff-hangery at the same time. :-) Rest assured that it will be finished, though it's not clear for which prompt yet...
Author: ainm
That Song
"I'll be home for Christmas, you can count on me..."
Jim slapped at the radio dial with more force than was necessary. He was almost at the station anyway.
...
"I'll be home for Christmas, if the fates allow..."
Jim snarled at H as he came singing into the bullpen, and stomped away to the breakroom.
...
"I'll be home for Christmas--"
Jim didn't make it all the way into the grocery store -- as soon as he neared the automatic doors and heard that song playing inside, he decided it didn't matter what he was going to buy, he could do without.
...
"I'll be home--"
Jim gave up on the idea of TV and instead just sat in his accustomed spot next to his getting-overburdened table of candles, with only their glow to light the loft.
He knew the words to that song -- no matter how it started, it was not a song about really being home for Christmas. If only in my dreams... Jim needed Blair to truly come home; dreams were not enough.
Not that there hadn't been plenty of dreams. Jim knew he was spending more time sleeping than he probably should. Partly it was because for the first week or so he had hardly slept at all -- he had gotten dangerously sleep-deprived and had quite a backlog to make up for. But also it was because the dreams were preferable to being awake. Blair was home in his dreams, home and with him.
With a start, Jim shook himself from the beginnings of a doze when he realized that he was humming the tune to the damn song. Frustrated, he went to heat water for tea.
As he stood there, he fancied that he felt a vibration begin, some sort of hum that he felt in his bones. Concentrating on it, he decided that it wasn't coming from an external source, but rather truly was some sort of subsonic tremor from deep inside himself. Which was of course ridiculous, and just one more sign that he was losing it completely. Wonderful.
Swishing his herbal teabag through the water in his mug for no other reason than it gave him something to do, he realized that tomorrow night was Christmas Eve, and wondered idly if he'd actually make it to the new year.
Damn it, he was humming that song again! It had been haunting him all day, filling him with a sense of frustration and anger and hopelessness, but... somehow it seemed different now. And realizing that, he realized that he wasn't just humming it, he was humming along with it.
No... it couldn't be... that would be too much of a fucking Christmas miracle for this old soldier to believe in. But... damn, that sounded like Blair... in the hall... humming that song... turning his key in the lock...
...his feet moved him closer to the door without his mind's active participation...
...and though he'd been convinced it was a hallucination, the door really opened...
"Hi, Jim."