[fic] With All The Trimmings
A little early, but our unofficial celebrations this week have put me in a giving mood. >3
TITLE: With All The Trimmings
AUTHOR: Janni
WORD COUNT: 684
STYLE/WARNINGS: Blue Cortina, slashy non-graphic overtones involving foodstuffs. Sam/Gene.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Loz's fault. She says she doesn't want it, but deep down...>3 Red-markered by the incomparably twisted m31andy.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars belongs to Kudos and the BBC. No infringement is intended and no money is being made. Monkeys, though. Lots of monkeys. I believe this does not fall under the definition of "illegal activities," either here or abroad. No Ebola is involved. You'll just have to take my word for it.
WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS
"C'mon, Annie, give us a big wet one eh?" Chris hiccoughed and tried not to slosh the Party Seven on his trousers again as he nodded his head upward at the small green sprig hanging over the doorway, under which the unfortunate Annie now stood.
"When the berries are all plucked the privilege ceases, Chris." Gene growled, poking his head through the doorframe at just the right moment, and leaving Annie with a surprised "O" framed perfectly on her face as Gene's head seemingly sprouted from her right shoulder to all others in the room.
"Div," Ray snorted under his breath as he took another pull from his flask.
The holidays had come to A Division, and with them a certain levity and good cheer and camaraderie that went above the usual.
"What did I tell you about that, Ray?" Gene nodded illustratively toward the flask in Ray's hand.
Ray's eyes widened in momentary surprise as he went to tuck it away in his jacket pocket once more.
"I said, 'Sharing is caring,'" Gene cleared his throat, then pulled his preferred lozenge of choice out of the pack in his pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it.
"Sorry, Guv," Ray blushed slightly as he handed the flask Gene's way.
******
Delicious smells wafted out of the tiny disgrace of a kitchen in Sam's flat as he swore under his breath and threatened a myriad number of very impressively dastardly deeds toward his wayward stove and, not entirely logically, its mother and its future progeny. Gene was impressed; some of the things coming out of Dorothy's mouth, he hadn't really expected him to know about, let alone speak of. He quickly repressed his smile as he leant into the kitchen from the doorway and announced his presence.
"So what have you burnt for us this evening, Sammy-boy?"
"OW!" Sam yelped in surprise as he smacked his head---hard---into the roof of the dilapidated and gaping maw that was the door to his oven. "I'm roasting a turkey, if you don't mind," he sulked, glaring and rubbing his head gingerly and pouting in what Gene was sure he couldn't know was a most distracting way.
"With all the trimmings?"
"Of course." Sam's eyes flared, just for a moment, with something inscrutably Sammish and therefore, infuriating.
"So what's all the yelling about, then? Things not going quite to plan? Tell your Agony Aunt all about it, there's a girl..." Gene made a sort of odd cooing noise, like the idiotic ones adults often made over tiny, tiny babies.
"Glad to see you've got the Christmas cheer well within you, Guv." Sam rolled his eyes and made as though to wave the fumes rolling off Gene's breath away from his nose.
"I'll be glad to do you the same if you like, Sammy-boy. Sharing is caring, after all..." Gene grinned wickedly, brandishing the first thing his roaming hands found on the counter next to the doorway.
"You're going to attack me with...a turkey baster?" Sam said in disbelief, then broke into nothing short of an actual fit of giggles.
"Your problem, Tyler, is that whatever you've got crammed up your jacksie is either too far up or not far enough in. This," he paused here and worked the rubber knob on the baster in and out, sucking in air and pushing it out for full noisy effect before continuing," may just be the answer to all your troubles. Up you get..." Gene lunged menacingly, baster firmly in hand.
It's a good thing I've got several packets of Bisto, was all Sam could think as he hastily tried to ward Gene away without burning himself on the oven behind him.
TITLE: With All The Trimmings
AUTHOR: Janni
WORD COUNT: 684
STYLE/WARNINGS: Blue Cortina, slashy non-graphic overtones involving foodstuffs. Sam/Gene.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Loz's fault. She says she doesn't want it, but deep down...>3 Red-markered by the incomparably twisted m31andy.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars belongs to Kudos and the BBC. No infringement is intended and no money is being made. Monkeys, though. Lots of monkeys. I believe this does not fall under the definition of "illegal activities," either here or abroad. No Ebola is involved. You'll just have to take my word for it.
WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS
"C'mon, Annie, give us a big wet one eh?" Chris hiccoughed and tried not to slosh the Party Seven on his trousers again as he nodded his head upward at the small green sprig hanging over the doorway, under which the unfortunate Annie now stood.
"When the berries are all plucked the privilege ceases, Chris." Gene growled, poking his head through the doorframe at just the right moment, and leaving Annie with a surprised "O" framed perfectly on her face as Gene's head seemingly sprouted from her right shoulder to all others in the room.
"Div," Ray snorted under his breath as he took another pull from his flask.
The holidays had come to A Division, and with them a certain levity and good cheer and camaraderie that went above the usual.
"What did I tell you about that, Ray?" Gene nodded illustratively toward the flask in Ray's hand.
Ray's eyes widened in momentary surprise as he went to tuck it away in his jacket pocket once more.
"I said, 'Sharing is caring,'" Gene cleared his throat, then pulled his preferred lozenge of choice out of the pack in his pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it.
"Sorry, Guv," Ray blushed slightly as he handed the flask Gene's way.
******
Delicious smells wafted out of the tiny disgrace of a kitchen in Sam's flat as he swore under his breath and threatened a myriad number of very impressively dastardly deeds toward his wayward stove and, not entirely logically, its mother and its future progeny. Gene was impressed; some of the things coming out of Dorothy's mouth, he hadn't really expected him to know about, let alone speak of. He quickly repressed his smile as he leant into the kitchen from the doorway and announced his presence.
"So what have you burnt for us this evening, Sammy-boy?"
"OW!" Sam yelped in surprise as he smacked his head---hard---into the roof of the dilapidated and gaping maw that was the door to his oven. "I'm roasting a turkey, if you don't mind," he sulked, glaring and rubbing his head gingerly and pouting in what Gene was sure he couldn't know was a most distracting way.
"With all the trimmings?"
"Of course." Sam's eyes flared, just for a moment, with something inscrutably Sammish and therefore, infuriating.
"So what's all the yelling about, then? Things not going quite to plan? Tell your Agony Aunt all about it, there's a girl..." Gene made a sort of odd cooing noise, like the idiotic ones adults often made over tiny, tiny babies.
"Glad to see you've got the Christmas cheer well within you, Guv." Sam rolled his eyes and made as though to wave the fumes rolling off Gene's breath away from his nose.
"I'll be glad to do you the same if you like, Sammy-boy. Sharing is caring, after all..." Gene grinned wickedly, brandishing the first thing his roaming hands found on the counter next to the doorway.
"You're going to attack me with...a turkey baster?" Sam said in disbelief, then broke into nothing short of an actual fit of giggles.
"Your problem, Tyler, is that whatever you've got crammed up your jacksie is either too far up or not far enough in. This," he paused here and worked the rubber knob on the baster in and out, sucking in air and pushing it out for full noisy effect before continuing," may just be the answer to all your troubles. Up you get..." Gene lunged menacingly, baster firmly in hand.
It's a good thing I've got several packets of Bisto, was all Sam could think as he hastily tried to ward Gene away without burning himself on the oven behind him.