[Original: Drabble] "Friendsgiving" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: Friendsgiving
Prompt: writerverse challenge #40 final challenge (challenge #05 I’m telling the story- 1st person)
Word Count: 231
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell spend the holiday together.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Friendsgiving
“It’s called Friendsgiving,” I said, adding another peeled potato to the ones in the pot. “It seems to be mostly people who don’t want to go to their families’ Thanksgiving dinners- or the ones who aren’t welcome, which is even worse- rather than people like us, who just don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You came here,” Howell pointed out. “In fact, I invited you.”
“Yes, no, that’s my point exactly.” I pointed my peeler in emphasis, but he scowled and gestured at the pile of potatoes I still had to go. “I mean, some people have crappy families. So I’m- grateful, I guess- that we had good families, good memories, but that we’ve got each other, too. The people we choose to spend time with.”
“Maybe I just felt sorry for you,” my partner offered. He seemed to think I’d peeled enough potatoes to start with, and picked up the masher. “Sad little rookie all alone for Thanksgiving.”
I snorted. “First off, I am officially not a rookie anymore, sir. And second, you’ve never brought any other rookies home for Thanksgiving.”
Howell arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re just the saddest of the rookies?”
“That hurts, sir,” I said, deadpan. “That hurts a lot.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, then his expression softened- not a smile, but close enough for me. “Keep peeling, Jones.”
I laughed. “Yes, sir.”
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #40 final challenge (challenge #05 I’m telling the story- 1st person)
Word Count: 231
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell spend the holiday together.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Friendsgiving
“It’s called Friendsgiving,” I said, adding another peeled potato to the ones in the pot. “It seems to be mostly people who don’t want to go to their families’ Thanksgiving dinners- or the ones who aren’t welcome, which is even worse- rather than people like us, who just don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You came here,” Howell pointed out. “In fact, I invited you.”
“Yes, no, that’s my point exactly.” I pointed my peeler in emphasis, but he scowled and gestured at the pile of potatoes I still had to go. “I mean, some people have crappy families. So I’m- grateful, I guess- that we had good families, good memories, but that we’ve got each other, too. The people we choose to spend time with.”
“Maybe I just felt sorry for you,” my partner offered. He seemed to think I’d peeled enough potatoes to start with, and picked up the masher. “Sad little rookie all alone for Thanksgiving.”
I snorted. “First off, I am officially not a rookie anymore, sir. And second, you’ve never brought any other rookies home for Thanksgiving.”
Howell arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re just the saddest of the rookies?”
“That hurts, sir,” I said, deadpan. “That hurts a lot.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, then his expression softened- not a smile, but close enough for me. “Keep peeling, Jones.”
I laughed. “Yes, sir.”
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow