Fic: Bah, Humbug (3/3)
Bah, Humbug
By zennie
Fandom, Pairing: Murder in Suburbia, Ash/Scribbs
Written for the Christmas Wishlist for lysachan
Prompt: Ash hates Christmas, but Scribbs is determined to change that.
AN: Sorry this is late. I struggled a bit with the ending, and I'm still not completely satisfied.
Part 3
The person for whom Ash opened the door at precisely 8 minutes til 7:00 PM wasn’t the person she was expecting, even though she didn’t exactly know whom she was supposed to expect. However, she was certain that the blonde with the slightly apologetic smile was not supposed to be on her stoop as the clock crept closer to the appointed time.
“Scribbs!” Scribbs stood just beyond the threshold, hands buried deep in her pockets. She was shifting around uneasily, and her smile managed to both widen and appear more apologetic when Ash opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
Scribbs ignored the question and made a show of peering behind Ash, into the corridor of her flat. “He isn’t here yet?” The query was a bit more barbed than an inquiry into a possible interruption should have been, Ash noted.
“No, not yet,” Ash admitted, reluctantly, before turning a raised eyebrow on her colleague. “What are you doing here?”
“He must not know you as well as we thought, huh?” Scribbs glanced at her watch, pointedly. “I mean, if he really knew you, he’d know how much you hate tardiness.”
“And yet, the day you are on time for a morning appointment, I may have to throw a ticker-tape parade to celebrate the occasion,” Ash replied, crossing her arms and leaning against doorframe. “Scribbs, what are you doing here?”
Scribbs looked down at her shoes and shuffled her feet. “I just wanted to, ah, say I’m sorry, you know, for earlier.” She tilted her head to the side and glanced up to meet Ash’s eyes, her expression hang-dog and pouty. “Forgive me?”
Ash pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, trying for all the world to appear as if she were considering the request, but she knew and Scribbs knew that she always caved in the face of that particular expression. Ash just wanted to make Scribbs work for it. After a suitable amount of time, in which Scribbs managed to look even more pathetic, Ash sighed and relented, “Of course I forgive you.”
Scribbs brightened immediately and took a step forward, before pausing in the doorway, glancing up, and then smiling a rather devious smile. “Mistletoe,” Scribbs pointed out, unnecessarily, as Ash glared at the offending piece of greenery positioned dangerously above both their heads.
“Yes, I see that.”
“So…” Scribbs leaned forward and scrunched her lips up.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“Come on, Ash. ‘Tis the season and all that.”
Ash scrutinized the hallway and, satisfied that nobody was watching, leaned in to give her partner a quick peck on the lips. However, for all her good intentions, as soon as their lips touched, Ash found herself caught up in the moment, enjoying the feel of soft lips beneath her own, and the kiss lasted for several long moments, long enough for Ash to hear the church bell ring out 7 chimes.
When they parted, Scribbs sported a big, silly grin and collapsed against the doorframe as though her legs wouldn’t hold her. Ash swatted her arm. “Scribbs, don’t take the piss.”
“Sorry,” replied Scribbs, looking anything but sorry. In fact, she looked like a very satisfied feline in that particular moment. “Hey, Ash, you realize that I’ve gotten you to break all of your Christmas rules? There was the eggnog…”
“Don’t remind me!”
“…you’ve participated in holiday rituals and sentiment, like gift-giving, and, now we’ve just had a bit of a snog under the mistletoe.”
“Yes, well, that’s because you are thoroughly hopeless when it comes to following even the most common-sense rules and guidelines,” Ash explained. “I despair of ever being able to rein in your more creative impulses.”
Scribbs actually appeared contrite in the face of Ash’s dressing down. “Um, yeah, about that…”
“About what?”
Scribbs looked bashful again, and she chewed her lower lip nervously as she withdrew her hand from the deep pocket of her coat and held out an elaborately wrapped box in silver and gold, almost identical to the first box except for a single ruby-red rose affixed to the box with ribbon. “Here,” she said, thrusting the box at Ash.
Ash gave Scribbs a puzzled look, and was about to ask a question, but Scribbs waved her hand in a ‘go on, open it,’ gesture, so Ash simply complied. Inside the box were several slips of paper, receipts, for chocolates, wine, gloves, all with the amounts carefully blacked out, but all made out to one Emma Scribbins. Ash stared at the box and its contents for several long seconds before saying, quietly, “It was you.”
Scribbs nodded her head, watching Ash carefully and not without a hint of fear. “It was me.”
Ash ran through everything in her head, “I, I can’t believe, well, at first, the first package, I thought it might be you, but the timing was off, I mean, you’ve never been in before 9 AM in your life unless I’ve shown up at your flat and physically dragged you in to work.” She paused and looked at her blonde partner. “How?”
“A mate on the night shift…”
“And the jealousy act?”
Scribbs shrugged. “Just an act. I didn’t want you to suspect anything.”
“I most certainly didn’t…”
“And,” Scribbs hurried on, “we’re still on for the play, tonight even, if you still want to go.”
Ash was taken back and more than a bit puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I still want to go?”
“Because,” Scribbs’ teeth worried at her lower lip as she tilted her head to the side, her expression intense, as though she were trying to will Ash into understanding, “it was me.” She swept her hand down to indicate herself and waited for Ash to realize the implications.
Ash’s eyes narrowed in thought before growing wide. “Oh!” She stared at the blonde. “It was you.”
“Yeah, your mystery man ended up being a mystery woman, your female colleague even, and well, I can’t imagine it’s what you were expecting, now, is it? I mean, you were expecting to get all swept up by some…”
Ash cut Scribbs’ rambling off by sliding her hand up under the blonde hair and leaning in for another kiss, effectively silencing her partner.
When released, Scribbs was only able to get a name out. “Ash?”
“Mistletoe,” Ash explained, simply, before capturing those lips again.
The next time they broke apart, it was Ash’s turn to grin in silly, unadulterated happiness. “It was you,” she repeated with a hint of wonder in her voice. The next kiss, Ash threw her arms around Scribbs’ neck to hold her in for a long, open-mouthed kiss, forgetting the box of receipts in her hand, which upended to send the slips of paper fluttering to the floor.
“You’re making a mess,” teased Scribbs, but Ash seemed to be much more interested in nibbling her way to Scribbs’ ear.
“So are you coming in?” Ash whispered and Scribbs shivered at the warm breath in her ear. “I’ve champagne, chocolate, and strawberries.” Ash didn’t wait for a reply, and instead starting walking backwards, pulling Scribbs along with her.
Once into the flat proper, Scribbs paused for a moment to take in the usual décor lit by dozens of candles and one small twinkling tabletop Christmas tree. “Merry Christmas,” Ash whispered.
Scribbs scrutinized at the brunette in arms closely. “Now that’s definitely a hint of Christmas spirit I see.”
“More than a hint,” Ash agreed before silencing the blonde with another kiss.
By zennie
Fandom, Pairing: Murder in Suburbia, Ash/Scribbs
Written for the Christmas Wishlist for lysachan
Prompt: Ash hates Christmas, but Scribbs is determined to change that.
AN: Sorry this is late. I struggled a bit with the ending, and I'm still not completely satisfied.
Part 3
The person for whom Ash opened the door at precisely 8 minutes til 7:00 PM wasn’t the person she was expecting, even though she didn’t exactly know whom she was supposed to expect. However, she was certain that the blonde with the slightly apologetic smile was not supposed to be on her stoop as the clock crept closer to the appointed time.
“Scribbs!” Scribbs stood just beyond the threshold, hands buried deep in her pockets. She was shifting around uneasily, and her smile managed to both widen and appear more apologetic when Ash opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
Scribbs ignored the question and made a show of peering behind Ash, into the corridor of her flat. “He isn’t here yet?” The query was a bit more barbed than an inquiry into a possible interruption should have been, Ash noted.
“No, not yet,” Ash admitted, reluctantly, before turning a raised eyebrow on her colleague. “What are you doing here?”
“He must not know you as well as we thought, huh?” Scribbs glanced at her watch, pointedly. “I mean, if he really knew you, he’d know how much you hate tardiness.”
“And yet, the day you are on time for a morning appointment, I may have to throw a ticker-tape parade to celebrate the occasion,” Ash replied, crossing her arms and leaning against doorframe. “Scribbs, what are you doing here?”
Scribbs looked down at her shoes and shuffled her feet. “I just wanted to, ah, say I’m sorry, you know, for earlier.” She tilted her head to the side and glanced up to meet Ash’s eyes, her expression hang-dog and pouty. “Forgive me?”
Ash pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, trying for all the world to appear as if she were considering the request, but she knew and Scribbs knew that she always caved in the face of that particular expression. Ash just wanted to make Scribbs work for it. After a suitable amount of time, in which Scribbs managed to look even more pathetic, Ash sighed and relented, “Of course I forgive you.”
Scribbs brightened immediately and took a step forward, before pausing in the doorway, glancing up, and then smiling a rather devious smile. “Mistletoe,” Scribbs pointed out, unnecessarily, as Ash glared at the offending piece of greenery positioned dangerously above both their heads.
“Yes, I see that.”
“So…” Scribbs leaned forward and scrunched her lips up.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“Come on, Ash. ‘Tis the season and all that.”
Ash scrutinized the hallway and, satisfied that nobody was watching, leaned in to give her partner a quick peck on the lips. However, for all her good intentions, as soon as their lips touched, Ash found herself caught up in the moment, enjoying the feel of soft lips beneath her own, and the kiss lasted for several long moments, long enough for Ash to hear the church bell ring out 7 chimes.
When they parted, Scribbs sported a big, silly grin and collapsed against the doorframe as though her legs wouldn’t hold her. Ash swatted her arm. “Scribbs, don’t take the piss.”
“Sorry,” replied Scribbs, looking anything but sorry. In fact, she looked like a very satisfied feline in that particular moment. “Hey, Ash, you realize that I’ve gotten you to break all of your Christmas rules? There was the eggnog…”
“Don’t remind me!”
“…you’ve participated in holiday rituals and sentiment, like gift-giving, and, now we’ve just had a bit of a snog under the mistletoe.”
“Yes, well, that’s because you are thoroughly hopeless when it comes to following even the most common-sense rules and guidelines,” Ash explained. “I despair of ever being able to rein in your more creative impulses.”
Scribbs actually appeared contrite in the face of Ash’s dressing down. “Um, yeah, about that…”
“About what?”
Scribbs looked bashful again, and she chewed her lower lip nervously as she withdrew her hand from the deep pocket of her coat and held out an elaborately wrapped box in silver and gold, almost identical to the first box except for a single ruby-red rose affixed to the box with ribbon. “Here,” she said, thrusting the box at Ash.
Ash gave Scribbs a puzzled look, and was about to ask a question, but Scribbs waved her hand in a ‘go on, open it,’ gesture, so Ash simply complied. Inside the box were several slips of paper, receipts, for chocolates, wine, gloves, all with the amounts carefully blacked out, but all made out to one Emma Scribbins. Ash stared at the box and its contents for several long seconds before saying, quietly, “It was you.”
Scribbs nodded her head, watching Ash carefully and not without a hint of fear. “It was me.”
Ash ran through everything in her head, “I, I can’t believe, well, at first, the first package, I thought it might be you, but the timing was off, I mean, you’ve never been in before 9 AM in your life unless I’ve shown up at your flat and physically dragged you in to work.” She paused and looked at her blonde partner. “How?”
“A mate on the night shift…”
“And the jealousy act?”
Scribbs shrugged. “Just an act. I didn’t want you to suspect anything.”
“I most certainly didn’t…”
“And,” Scribbs hurried on, “we’re still on for the play, tonight even, if you still want to go.”
Ash was taken back and more than a bit puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I still want to go?”
“Because,” Scribbs’ teeth worried at her lower lip as she tilted her head to the side, her expression intense, as though she were trying to will Ash into understanding, “it was me.” She swept her hand down to indicate herself and waited for Ash to realize the implications.
Ash’s eyes narrowed in thought before growing wide. “Oh!” She stared at the blonde. “It was you.”
“Yeah, your mystery man ended up being a mystery woman, your female colleague even, and well, I can’t imagine it’s what you were expecting, now, is it? I mean, you were expecting to get all swept up by some…”
Ash cut Scribbs’ rambling off by sliding her hand up under the blonde hair and leaning in for another kiss, effectively silencing her partner.
When released, Scribbs was only able to get a name out. “Ash?”
“Mistletoe,” Ash explained, simply, before capturing those lips again.
The next time they broke apart, it was Ash’s turn to grin in silly, unadulterated happiness. “It was you,” she repeated with a hint of wonder in her voice. The next kiss, Ash threw her arms around Scribbs’ neck to hold her in for a long, open-mouthed kiss, forgetting the box of receipts in her hand, which upended to send the slips of paper fluttering to the floor.
“You’re making a mess,” teased Scribbs, but Ash seemed to be much more interested in nibbling her way to Scribbs’ ear.
“So are you coming in?” Ash whispered and Scribbs shivered at the warm breath in her ear. “I’ve champagne, chocolate, and strawberries.” Ash didn’t wait for a reply, and instead starting walking backwards, pulling Scribbs along with her.
Once into the flat proper, Scribbs paused for a moment to take in the usual décor lit by dozens of candles and one small twinkling tabletop Christmas tree. “Merry Christmas,” Ash whispered.
Scribbs scrutinized at the brunette in arms closely. “Now that’s definitely a hint of Christmas spirit I see.”
“More than a hint,” Ash agreed before silencing the blonde with another kiss.