catko

For holiday prompts...

Title: Boston in July
Fandom: Leverage
Characters/Pairing(s): Nate, Sophie
Rating: G
Word Count: 463
Words/Prompts Used: Ribbon, Ornaments, Icicles, Mistletoe, Elf, Tinsel, Jingle, Gingerbread, Wrapping Paper, Presents

"Whoof, bloody hell, it's HOT," huffed Sophie as she strolled into the pub, the blazing afternoon sun streaming in behind her as the door wheezed shut. She walked over to the bar, where Nate was staring into a tall glass filled with ice and something bubbly. ​He turned to watch as she scrabbled​ in her large handbag, finally pulling out a long ribbon threaded through with tinsel, which she used to tie her hair up.

He tipped his glass in welcome. "It's summer in Boston, get used to it." He took a swig as she mock-glared at him. Tone switching to serious, he asked, "Did you get it?" She reached back into her bag and pulled out a package in brown wrapping paper which she placed on the bar. "Yes, and it meant three more sweaty ​blocks to walk​. I should have taken a cab." She patted the package then sashayed around to behind the bar. "So ​much secrecy, darling: no sign on the door, and not a word from your man there." She filled a glass with ice and club soda. "What is it, presents for the team?" She gave him a bright, hopeful glance. "Early Christmas elf, are you?"

"It's JULY," he said, and slid the package off the bar and into the bag near his feet. As she continued to look inquiringly, he added, shortly, "It's for a job." "Oh, more mystery," she said lightly, and rounded back around to sit next to him. She put the damp glass against her forehead and sighed. "God, this dreaded humidity," she groaned, "Never would I think I'd wish for winter, but what I wouldn't give now for some snow and jingle bells and ho-ho-ho."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You? Ms. Cynical, longing for the Christmas season​?" "Oh I know, I'm not usually one for holiday cheer. Except the gift-giving. Ah yes, nothing wrong with that." She instinctively reached up to touch her ruby earring, and her eyes got a faraway look. The ice in her glass clinked, and, brought back to the present, she groaned, and reaching​ in her bag, pulled out a cut-glass bottle​ and proceeded to spray a fine mist around her face and hair.

Nate felt a bit of the mist tickle his nose. "Smells like gingerbread," he murmured, resisting the impulse to sway in towards her.

"Gingerbread? Darling, it's Guerlain. ​Now y​ou're the one that's got the longing​ for Christmas​." She spun on her stool to face him directly. "And in that case, it's too damn bad we don't have some mistletoe handy." She glanced up at the ceiling and back at him, impishly. ​The shiny ribbon in her hair ​shimmered, and the ruby earrings sparkled like ornaments.​​ "What would you do then?" she purred, parting her lips​.

Her look would melt an icicle, which Nate -- in Boston in July -- decidedly was not.  He leaned closer.

Fandom: The Magicians
Words: 278
Notes: Spoilers for Season Finale

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Fandom: Scorpion
Characters: Toby and Happy
Pairings: See above.
Word Count: 346

"What?" It was a familiar reaction from throughout their time together, with Happy catching Toby gazing at her, moony-eyed, but this time it came without the defensive edge of their early days. She looked at him thoughtfully as she set down the wrench on the workbench where she was sitting.
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The challenge at gameofcards is to write an AU of an existing fandom. Once I did a visual recast of Firefly using Glee characters. So, I thought I'd write a little something about that....

Title: Glee--In Space!
AU Type: Space AU
Word Count: 250+

Kurt had just finished his protein bar when he felt the ship lurch and shudder. He shot an alarmed look at Tina and they both rose from the dining table. "Compression coil?" the pilot asked, dusting off the crumbs and heading out the door. "I'll check the engine, hopefully it's just the auto-pilot going wonky," Kurt said hastily as he followed his crewmate into the passageway. "Never did trust those things," the pilot said briskly, swinging herself up the grating just as the Captain came clambering up from the cargo hold, followed by Jayne and Zoe. The five stared briefly at each other then each went to their various posts: the Captain following his pilot and first mate up to the comm, the merc to her bunk to grab some weaponry in case trouble was afoot, and the engineer to his engine.

Later, satisfied that it had only been a glitch in the auto-pilot programming, they reconvened in the cargo hold, drawn by the loud refrain of "Single Ladies." There, they found the rest of the crew practicing dance steps and dissolving into laughter. Kurt, who'd stopped to wipe off the engine grease and apply moisturizer, was the last one down to the hold, and he paused momentarily on the catwalk, watching Brittany whip her hair around while showing the moves to a surprisingly-for-a-preacher adept Mike Chang, while pilot and first mate swayed in each others' arms, Artie circled the action in his motor chair,  and the others tried to join in, prancing and posing.

Kurt felt a glow of happiness as he thought how lucky he'd been to be brought on as a mechanic-countertenor with this wacky but talented crew. That glow turned to annoyance as he saw Puck and Santana showing Finn the step-ball-change before the jazz square. Ugh, how many times did he have to tell them! Shaking his head, he bounded down the stairs to show his crewmates how to do the damn dance.

Challenge at gameofcards to write a fic using wintry prompts.

Prompt Used: blinding, blizzard, cold, fireplace, ice hockey, quilt, slippery
Fandom: Firefly
Word Count: 571

“Brrrrrr!” Kaylee shivered as she looked out the cargo door into the blinding snowstorm and waved the mule up the ramp. “Not used to this kinda cold, huh,” she said to Zoe who punched the switch to close the door. Zoe grinned as she strode over to the dripping vehicle. “Nope, the cold of space is more like … a dry cold.” Grimacing, she nonetheless grabbed the slippery arm of her husband and pulled him out of the driver’s seat into a kiss.

“We gotta get us a new truck if we’re gonna make a habit of doin’ business in a blizzard,” grumbled Jayne as he clambered out of the mule and shook himself all over like a big dog.

“Quit the bitching! A job’s a job!” Mal leapt out of the shotgun seat and started pointing his finger around. “Sooner we unload this stuff, the sooner we’ll be sitting in the warm and getting the heck off this planet and on our way.”

“Hmmm, might be no rush for that.” Wash hunched over the cargo bay console and squinted at the screen. “Think we’re gonna have to wait for this system to pass to have a clear take-off. Stabilizer’s been a little dicey,” — Kaylee groaned loudly— “so I think we better stay put overnight.” He punched a few keys, squinted again, and nodded. Mal set his jaw. “Well, that’s that, but it still don’t change the plan to get this stuff settled, and ourselves, too.”

“As to that…” Inara’s dulcet tones came down from the catwalk, and as all eyes raised to her, she smiled warmly. “I’d like to invite you all to my shuttle for a warm-up tea.” As Jayne snorted, she added, “And by warm-up, I mean something special to add to the tea.” With a lovely gesture, she departed. Jayne grinned wolfishly and started hauling boxes off the mule, double-time.
******
“Well, this is real nice,” declared Kaylee as she settled back on Inara’s pillows, smoothing a silken quilt over her lap. “I’d be wiling to sit out a blizzard any day like this.”

“Great idea to have a fire.” Wash gestured with his mug towards Inara’s com screen, where she’d pulled up a vid of a fireplace crackling merrily. “Grog is good,” acknowledged Jayne with a growl as he rotated spread-legged on the comm chair. “But I wasn’t raised to any kind of cold weather, and I don’t take to it much.” Still, he pulled rather fondly on the ends of the orange and yellow knitted hat on his head.

“None of you have a lick of fortitude,” proclaimed Mal from the doorway where he'd been lingering. “Growing up, we had winters like this from time to time. Toughens a body.” He patted his own chest with one hand and took a swig off his mug with the other. “ ’N fact, when the lake’d freeze over, I got pretty darn good at ice hockey.” He licked his lips and his eyes went distant.

“Ice hockey? What’s that, Cap?” Kaylee leaned forward, her eyes glowing. Mal almost never talked about his past, but she could see he had some feeling running for it just then.

Mal focused on her, ambled into the room, and plopped down on the bed. “Well, Kaylee, it goes like this….”

As his voice ran on, the others leaned in, drank, closed their eyes, or otherwise followed their natures and felt the warmth of gathering together.

The challenge was to write a thank you note for a gift that wasn't really good. I put a bit of a twist, hope that's okay.

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Words: 241

Mom and Dad:
I’m writing this on Christmas Eve. Just sayin’, since who knows when you’ll even stagger out of bed to find this. Might be Christmas Day, or Boxing Day. God, maybe you’ll even stay passed out until the end of the month.

Whatever, I won’t be around, so why should I care. Yeah, finally I’m breaking the bonds of family, for what it’s been worth, and heading out. So, consider this a good-bye, for now. Dunno where I’ll be, I  mean I’m not leaving town or anything, but I know you won’t come looking, either. Still, I guess this is just to let you know that I’m leaving on my own, I wasn’t kidnapped, or disappeared like I know you know other kids in Sunnydale have been. Oh, the tales I could tell, but yeah not right now.

One more thing. I guess I do want to say. in case I don’t get a chance to: Thank You. Even though I don’t have a lot of good memories of our family life, you did give me life, and as of late, that’s been pretty damn fantastic. Oh, sure, there has been some downsides, but I got friends, I got a purpose, and I even got that stack of comic books you gave me many Christmases ago. The last good gift I can remember, so, okay.

Anyhoo. I’m outta here. See you next year—maybe.

Your son, Xander

The challenge at gameofcards was to write a short fic omitting one of the vowels. This might be cheating, but here you go. I also used two of the prompts from a different challenge: "The things you learn about people when you take care of their home while they’re away on vacation" and "She picks up the phone & says hello".

Title: Holly Housesits for Russ
Fandom: Battle Creek
Vowel Excluded: A
Word Count: 166

TO: russ@bcpd.org
FR: holly@bcpd.org
SUBJECT: Housesittin'

Hey. So everything's good round here, except I'm getting no phone reception so I'm using your Dell, which is wonky. Why didn't you mention -- how long's your ... "first vowel key" been broken? Knowing you, it's been forever & you figured out some work'round. I guess you could go with textspk but somehow I don't see you doing it. You're old school, honey, but it's ok. I'll keep you wired into the young cool stuff.

How's the conference? I know you're not big on sitting in meetings but it must be fun to be out of town. Hope you're in the nice section of Detroit & the hotel's good & you're not drinking too too much.

Hey by the by, someone phoned you. I didn't intend to pick it up, but it kept ringing, so....mmmmm. Your mom told me to tell you hello. There's more, but I'd better tell you in person. K hon. Miss you. Be good! See you soon!

Title: Well, That Wasn't What I Expected To Happen
Fandom: Elementary
Prompts + links to prompts: Embedded links in blue
Word Count: 310

“These shoes are made for walking, not running,” proclaimed Sherlock, as he bent, rather solicitously actually, over Joan, who had pulled herself onto a doorstep of a building on the side-street off of Park. “Don’t you think you should be trying to catch him?” said Joan testily, gesturing down the street after a figure in a black leather jacket, who was turning onto Park and disappearing in the throng.

Sherlock waved his hands as he settled on the stoop next to her and bent to peer at her ankle, which she was rubbing gingerly. “It’s no matter. We clearly had no inkling we would run into Mallory, or we would have been better prepared.” He gestured again toward her footwear. “This indicates to me that it will not be difficult to, shall we say, run into him again. In that future case, I might recommend, literally. Sprained, not broken, yes?” He looked up at her.

“Hmm, yes, thank god,” Joan groaned slightly as she moved to lever herself to a standing position. “Well, we just can’t sit here all day. Better get a cab home.” She squinted up and down the side street and looked a bit dismayed.

Sherlock stood abruptly. “Never catch a cab here, best get down to The Avenue,” he said briskly, and in one sudden move, half-bent and scooped Joan into his arms.

“Aacck!” Joan cried. “What are you doing? Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle." Resolutely, Sherlock proceeded down the sidewalk. “Tcha-tcha, Watson, patience. We must preserve your ankle, not to mention your designer footwear, for the morrow, when we will again venture out and attempt to flag down our witness. Until then…a taxi.” Having reached the corner of Park Avenue, he managed to wave imperiously at a fortuitously oncoming cab, while keeping a comfortable yet respectable grip on his detecting partner.

.
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.
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Clyde, the tortoise who graces our screens sometimes in Elementary.
Lives with Sherlock Holmes and Joan Watson in a brownstone in Brooklyn
Yet disappears for large stretches of time, leaving us to worry and wonder
Does he fend for himself, how does he survive?
Even a turtle needs love, attention, and food. Such as lettuce. Clyde loves lettuce.

True, when he does show up, his appearance is striking
He may bring a missive to Joan
Edging up her bedspread as she sleeps,

Toting a postit with a morning message
Or acting as an ambulance puttering among Sherlock's locks
Rolling over on his back, for as long as he likes
To mimic a paperweight
Or even painting, by his own volition
If Sherlock is to be believed, but to Joan's dismay
Still, we know Clyde would only do what Clyde wants
Even it's a puzzle to mere humans.


"Sherlock! Sherlock, for heaven's sake. I found Clyde in the shower. AFTER I'd turned on the water." A dripping wet Joan, wrapped in a towel, strode into the kitchen proferring a tortoise in front of her. "It's a hazard! To him as well as me!" Quite gently considering the circumstances, she placed the tortoise, seemingly placid except for front legs waving, on the table in front of Sherlock, who was peering into a microscope and apparently heeding no mind. "I don't know whether to be upset that he seems to have the run of the house, or concerned that he is being neglected. It's ridiculous!" Joan paced the kitchen behind the seated man, waving her free hand around whilt the other clutched the towel. "Sherlock! Are you listening?"

Sherlock turned his head to look at her. "Watson. I fail to grasp the controversy. Clyde is clearly thriving, and both appreciates the freedoms, as well as being impervious to the dangers, of life in the Brownstone. Not unlike you and I, am I correct?" He stared for a moment, blinked his eyes, and turned slowly back to the microscope--looking not unlike a tortoise himself, Joan couldn't help noticing, as she spun around and went back to finish her shower. (210 words)