tis the season: one
So, I'm not great at cards (though these ones will be going out, I promise) but there are a lot of you on the internet that I like a whole bunch and I like to express that affection however I can. Without talking about feelings. So I thought I would write some ficlets for some people. Sort of like Advent, but without spellcheck. And less Christmas-y stories about Alan and Danny, because let's be honest, that's what Advent has always boiled down to in the past XD
So. Some things written for some people because I like them.
This first thing is for neurotictealeaf and I am posting it today because it is also HER BIRTHDAY. Who knew? (Well, me, obviously. And her, I would think.)
I met neurotictealeaf at a NaNoWriMo meet-up three years ago. We were sitting around the table at a restaurant in Morristown and someone decided to pass around a contact sheet with names and e-mails and handles and LJ names. When the book got to her, she said, "...you're pocky_slash?"
"...yes?" I said. "Do... I know you?"
And then we proceeded to have one of those conversations about fandom that you have when you're in the middle of a bunch of non-fannish people.
"No, but I know you. From. Things."
"From... West Wing things? Or from Stargate things?"
"From... both?"
I'm sure the rest of the table thought we were mad. They weren't far off, of course. After the gathering broke up, we stood in the parking lot and talked about fandom for like, an hour. Maybe more. (Hilariously, she sort of self-deprecatingly admitted she was reading a lot in Torchwood and I was like, "I love Who, but Torchwood has always just made me roll my eyes." Ha ha ha.)
ANYWAY. FRIENDSHIP WAS BORN. And one of the things that was born within that friendship was an AU where Toby owns a bakery and Sam decorates cakes for him.
This is the next section of this fic that will never be finished. The rest of the AU is here.
It's not much, bb, but maybe next year I'll get to the interesting parts. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
***
The door is open when Will leaves the salon and returns to the bakery, his thoughts still on the Christmas season, on creating a memorable holiday for Sam. Toby is wiping down the bake cases and Sam is no where to be found.
"He's in the back with the damn cupcakes," Toby mutters and Will offers him a distracted smile.
"Thanks, Toby," he says, but Toby is already back to rubbing fingerprints off of the glass and muttering about children with sticky fingers.
Sam's sitting at the desk in the back, a selection of blue and white frosted cupcakes sitting in front of him. He's got a piping bag in one hand and his sticking his tongue out in concentration, which is maybe one of Will's favorite Sam mannerisms. Well, it's tied for favorite, at least. With, you know, most of Sam's other mannerisms, but still.
"I dropped the stuff off next door," Will says, leaning against the door frame. "I should get to work."
"Thanks," Sam says without looking up. Will crosses the room, finally, and peers over Sam's shoulder.
"Are those...?"
"Hanukkah cupcakes," Sam confirms. He adds one last prong to a menorah and then relaxes and looks up, all smiles. "For Toby. Cardiff isn't exactly swimming in Jews, but I thought they might make the holidays a little brighter for him. It's a hard time of year to be somewhere new."
Will doesn't point out that Toby hates cupcakes, mostly because even though Toby hates cupcakes, he has a soft spot for Sam and even Sam has figured that out long ago.
"That's sweet," Will says, and leans over to press a kiss to Sam's temple. Sweet and just like Sam. Sam deserves an amazing Christmas if only for this need of his to look out for the rest of them. "I've got to get to work."
"You've said that twice now and you still haven't left," Sam points out, grabbing Will's hand and holding onto it.
He really doesn't want to.
"You think Donna has a thing for Toby?" Will asks instead of saying goodbye.
"Donna from next door, you mean?" Sam asks. "Yeah. She's more subtle about it than usual. I wonder if someone said something to her."
"About treading lightly because Toby's been burned by feisty redheads before?" Will asks with a raised eyebrow. "I told her about Andi, but I didn't, you know, go into detail."
"I think she'd be good for him," Sam says with finality, placing his piping bag on the desk and standing up. "You're going to be late."
"I am," Will agrees. He kisses Sam and pulls away reluctantly. Offices to go to. Jobs to force himself to be enthusiastic about. "I'll swing by when I get out."
"See you then," Sam says.
Will waves with a regretful smile, but his brain is still thinking about Christmas and Sam.
***
"You like Toby," Gwen says sometime later. There's a nice afternoon lull, enough for her and Donna and Ianto to have a cup of tea while Carys washes someone's hair and Andy finishes a cut.
"Don't know what you're talking about," Donna says. Ianto rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Ianto doesn't believe in meddling in other people's romantic lives, but Gwen's rather sure that's only because of the meddling she did to get Ianto and Jack together. That's worked out well so far, Gwen thinks. Her meddling obviously works well.
"Oh, come off it," Gwen says. "I see the way you look at him. It's good! He's not my type, really, but he could use someone to make him smile, I think." And if anyone could pull a smile out of Toby Zeigler, it was Donna Noble or nothing at all.
"You know he was married in the states?" Donna asks. "How a woman could bloody give up a man like that I haven't a clue."
"You should invite him round to mine for Christmas lunch," Gwen says. "You heard Will this morning--he's going to be all alone."
"I'm sure he's got plenty to do," Donna says. "Besides, you heard Will--he's Jewish. Not like he even celebrates Christmas."
"But no one likes to be alone," Gwen insists.
Donna doesn't say anything to that, but she does look thoughtful. Gwen smiles in triumph. Ianto rolls his eyes again.
"Don't start with me, Ianto Jones, just because you're feeling shirty with your boyfriend," she tells him.
"I'm not shirty," Ianto says. "And it's nothing to do with Jack! Why do you always think it has to do with Jack?"
"It always has to do with Jack," Donna says.
"Especially at Christmas," Gwen adds.
"I don't quite like either of you very much, you know," Ianto mutters. Gwen waits patiently, staring at him. Donna is as well. Ianto sighs, finally, and says, "Why? Why does he torture me this time of year? Why can't he hold off buying himself useless bloody crap until after Christmas?"
Gwen pats Ianto's hand and shakes her head.
"Because he's Jack and he's got more money than god and he's not used to people doing nice things for him," Gwen says.
"People have been spending their entire lives being nice to Jack," Ianto reminds her.
"Yes," she says, "but that was because they wanted something, not because they liked him." She ruffles Ianto's hair, which she knows he hates, and gets to her feet. Hair to style, after all. "You'll come up with something," she assures him, but it's his scowl, it's Donna's distant, plotting expression that makes her smile as she heads back to her station.
So. Some things written for some people because I like them.
This first thing is for neurotictealeaf and I am posting it today because it is also HER BIRTHDAY. Who knew? (Well, me, obviously. And her, I would think.)
I met neurotictealeaf at a NaNoWriMo meet-up three years ago. We were sitting around the table at a restaurant in Morristown and someone decided to pass around a contact sheet with names and e-mails and handles and LJ names. When the book got to her, she said, "...you're pocky_slash?"
"...yes?" I said. "Do... I know you?"
And then we proceeded to have one of those conversations about fandom that you have when you're in the middle of a bunch of non-fannish people.
"No, but I know you. From. Things."
"From... West Wing things? Or from Stargate things?"
"From... both?"
I'm sure the rest of the table thought we were mad. They weren't far off, of course. After the gathering broke up, we stood in the parking lot and talked about fandom for like, an hour. Maybe more. (Hilariously, she sort of self-deprecatingly admitted she was reading a lot in Torchwood and I was like, "I love Who, but Torchwood has always just made me roll my eyes." Ha ha ha.)
ANYWAY. FRIENDSHIP WAS BORN. And one of the things that was born within that friendship was an AU where Toby owns a bakery and Sam decorates cakes for him.
This is the next section of this fic that will never be finished. The rest of the AU is here.
It's not much, bb, but maybe next year I'll get to the interesting parts. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
***
The door is open when Will leaves the salon and returns to the bakery, his thoughts still on the Christmas season, on creating a memorable holiday for Sam. Toby is wiping down the bake cases and Sam is no where to be found.
"He's in the back with the damn cupcakes," Toby mutters and Will offers him a distracted smile.
"Thanks, Toby," he says, but Toby is already back to rubbing fingerprints off of the glass and muttering about children with sticky fingers.
Sam's sitting at the desk in the back, a selection of blue and white frosted cupcakes sitting in front of him. He's got a piping bag in one hand and his sticking his tongue out in concentration, which is maybe one of Will's favorite Sam mannerisms. Well, it's tied for favorite, at least. With, you know, most of Sam's other mannerisms, but still.
"I dropped the stuff off next door," Will says, leaning against the door frame. "I should get to work."
"Thanks," Sam says without looking up. Will crosses the room, finally, and peers over Sam's shoulder.
"Are those...?"
"Hanukkah cupcakes," Sam confirms. He adds one last prong to a menorah and then relaxes and looks up, all smiles. "For Toby. Cardiff isn't exactly swimming in Jews, but I thought they might make the holidays a little brighter for him. It's a hard time of year to be somewhere new."
Will doesn't point out that Toby hates cupcakes, mostly because even though Toby hates cupcakes, he has a soft spot for Sam and even Sam has figured that out long ago.
"That's sweet," Will says, and leans over to press a kiss to Sam's temple. Sweet and just like Sam. Sam deserves an amazing Christmas if only for this need of his to look out for the rest of them. "I've got to get to work."
"You've said that twice now and you still haven't left," Sam points out, grabbing Will's hand and holding onto it.
He really doesn't want to.
"You think Donna has a thing for Toby?" Will asks instead of saying goodbye.
"Donna from next door, you mean?" Sam asks. "Yeah. She's more subtle about it than usual. I wonder if someone said something to her."
"About treading lightly because Toby's been burned by feisty redheads before?" Will asks with a raised eyebrow. "I told her about Andi, but I didn't, you know, go into detail."
"I think she'd be good for him," Sam says with finality, placing his piping bag on the desk and standing up. "You're going to be late."
"I am," Will agrees. He kisses Sam and pulls away reluctantly. Offices to go to. Jobs to force himself to be enthusiastic about. "I'll swing by when I get out."
"See you then," Sam says.
Will waves with a regretful smile, but his brain is still thinking about Christmas and Sam.
***
"You like Toby," Gwen says sometime later. There's a nice afternoon lull, enough for her and Donna and Ianto to have a cup of tea while Carys washes someone's hair and Andy finishes a cut.
"Don't know what you're talking about," Donna says. Ianto rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Ianto doesn't believe in meddling in other people's romantic lives, but Gwen's rather sure that's only because of the meddling she did to get Ianto and Jack together. That's worked out well so far, Gwen thinks. Her meddling obviously works well.
"Oh, come off it," Gwen says. "I see the way you look at him. It's good! He's not my type, really, but he could use someone to make him smile, I think." And if anyone could pull a smile out of Toby Zeigler, it was Donna Noble or nothing at all.
"You know he was married in the states?" Donna asks. "How a woman could bloody give up a man like that I haven't a clue."
"You should invite him round to mine for Christmas lunch," Gwen says. "You heard Will this morning--he's going to be all alone."
"I'm sure he's got plenty to do," Donna says. "Besides, you heard Will--he's Jewish. Not like he even celebrates Christmas."
"But no one likes to be alone," Gwen insists.
Donna doesn't say anything to that, but she does look thoughtful. Gwen smiles in triumph. Ianto rolls his eyes again.
"Don't start with me, Ianto Jones, just because you're feeling shirty with your boyfriend," she tells him.
"I'm not shirty," Ianto says. "And it's nothing to do with Jack! Why do you always think it has to do with Jack?"
"It always has to do with Jack," Donna says.
"Especially at Christmas," Gwen adds.
"I don't quite like either of you very much, you know," Ianto mutters. Gwen waits patiently, staring at him. Donna is as well. Ianto sighs, finally, and says, "Why? Why does he torture me this time of year? Why can't he hold off buying himself useless bloody crap until after Christmas?"
Gwen pats Ianto's hand and shakes her head.
"Because he's Jack and he's got more money than god and he's not used to people doing nice things for him," Gwen says.
"People have been spending their entire lives being nice to Jack," Ianto reminds her.
"Yes," she says, "but that was because they wanted something, not because they liked him." She ruffles Ianto's hair, which she knows he hates, and gets to her feet. Hair to style, after all. "You'll come up with something," she assures him, but it's his scowl, it's Donna's distant, plotting expression that makes her smile as she heads back to her station.