MFU: December Drabbles
On mfuwss , they're prompting each day a word related to Christmas/winter. I'm catching up, so here are the first four days worth of drabbles. No slash in any of these.
1 - Angel
He knew it was in here somewhere. Somewhere in this lavish room, filled with ornate Christmas decorations (and topped off by that ridiculously large tree), there was a bomb. All he and Napoleon had to do was find it. Easier said than done, Illya thought wryly.
Dislodging the decorative angel from the top of the tree, Illya caught it and raced to the window. He hurled it into the river below, the muted explosion kicking up a spray of water, showing the people nearby. Better that than killing them he thought.
“That’s really not in the Christmas spirit.” Napoleon mused.
2 - Gingerbread (Prianiki borrowed from georgiesmith ’s drabble)
The smell took him back to his childhood; cool crisp air and his mother cooking over an open fire. Prianiki were handed out in the village, each mother taking pride in the way she cooked hers. Illya always remembered his mother’s as being the best. Dense, spicy and chewy, just the way he preferred them, like he remembered.
When Napoleon had handed him a gingerbread cookie, he’d been taken right back to his childhood, even though the crunchy gingerbread was nothing like Prianiki. He’d said as much, which then lead to them baking Prianiki the next day off they had.
3 - Fireplace
Huddled in front of the fireplace, Illya watched as Napoleon stacked the wood, striking a match to create a roaring fire to warm them both up.
The match didn’t take and Napoleon swore under his breath, tossing the dead match in the fireplace and striking another one. This one sparked into life and he held it carefully to the dry tinder, waiting for it to catch light.
Soon, the fire was blazing merrily, and all thoughts of the cold weather outside were soon banished as they snuggled close under a blanket, toes peeking out to be warmed by the fire.
4 - Blizzard
It was cold. And wet. And snowing. Illya might have been from Russia, but that didn’t necessarily mean he liked the weather. Blizzard conditions had forced them off the road and they were huddled in the car, hands close to the radiator vents, trying to keep warm.
“How long do you think it will last?” Illya asked. Napoleon stopped his teeth from chattering long enough to shrug.
“I don’t know.” Sighing, Illya made himself as comfortable as the front seat of their hire car would allow. If he was going to be forced to be stuck here, he would sleep.