9 Days Christmas Writing Challenge 2017: II → Andreil
for @skywaliker
Neil still didn’t know how Nicky had talked him into this. He knew Andrew wasn’t excited to have half the old team in his house. He knew Kevin was standing on the doorstep, furiously knocking on the door and shouting for him to let him in because it was fucking cold outside––but he didn’t know that. He hated Christmas. His time with Riko at Castle Evermore had made sure of that.
‘It’s been six years, Neil,’ Nicky had said. Or, ‘We’re family, and family should spend Christmas together.’ Matt added that they always went to his mother with Dan and him, so why couldn’t they spend the holidays at their place once? The cats would love the company, right?
They were cats. They didn’t care. But somehow, he agreed, and convinced Andrew to agree.
Neil swung the door open. Kevin frowned at him. ‘Took you long enough,’ he said. And then he smiled and pulled Neil in for a hug. ‘Merry Christmas, Neil!’ He pushed a box messily wrapped in paper with red-nosed reindeer into Neil’s hands when he pulled away. Something rattled inside. He squeezed past him and entered the warm house. More boxes waited to be given away in a plastic bag swinging in his left hand.
It was snowing outside. There were no people walking by, no cars on the road, just silence and calm and blinking light chains on each window and sometimes on trees. He felt peaceful. He was at home. He was with his family.
He closed the door and joined the Foxes in the living room.
Nothing will happen. We’re fine.
Neil reminded himself of that every now and then. If he didn’t, all the good in this world might just dissolve into nothing, and he would lose everything all over. Neil Josten didn’t want to.
Least of all he wanted to lose Andrew.
He has embraced the reality of that. But he has never told him so.
Kevin’s presents were in the hands of their receivers now. They chatted away cheerfully, tore the colourful wrapping paper apart, and played with Neil and Andrew’s two cats.
Andrew was the only one who was unwrapping his box in silence. Neil joined him on the sofa, sitting between him and Nicky. He stroked his back lightly.
‘Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend?’ Dan asked Kevin. She was the only girl among them. Kevin gave her a CD the back of which she was studying. Neil didn’t recognise the band.
Kevin took a seat on the armrest next to Nicky. ‘Thea had some business with her family,’ he explained, ‘we’ll see each other tomorrow. Why didn’t you bring Erik?’ He turned to Nicky.
Nicky looked at Matt and Dan instead of at him. ‘Man flu. Tough luck. But at least we can stay home and make sure he gets rid of it,’ he snickered and got up. A pile of presents almost fell out of his hands when he returned. He gave one to everyone. Andrew still seemed uninterested and sipped at his eggnog (laced with a lot of vodka) but accepted it with a curt nod.
Neil hasn’t unwrapped Kevin’s gift yet. He chose to open Nicky’s first; it was soft and asymmetrical, and wrapped more neatly. The paper revealed a blue sweater, he saw as much. When he got rid of all the paper, however, he noticed the sweaters were two and very small.
‘Cat sweaters?’ he raised an eyebrow at Nicky.
Andrew fixed his stare on the two items. ‘Seriously?’
‘Come on, guys. They’re so adorable. They have little cats in Santa hats on them,’ Nicky said enthusiastically. He insisted that it was a good idea.
Dan stirred in Matt’s lap. ‘Put them on your boys,’ she said with a cheeky grin forming on her face. ‘I want to see,’ added Matt. King Fluffkins danced between their legs, and she lifted him up. She cuddled him. ‘Don’t you want to see too?’ she asked the cat.
‘No, we’re not dressing our cats in that,’ Andrew protested. His hands played with his mobile. He was turning it over, doing nothing in particular with it except switching songs whenever he fancied it.
Dan and Nicky didn’t care. He snatched the blue one from Neil and tossed it to her. She got busy with King Fluffkins at once. He meowed loudly. Sir Fat Cat McCatterson better ran to safety.
‘The cats don’t like it,’ Neil pointed out, though no one but Andrew was on his side. Kevin stood up to fetch Sir Fat Cat, who has escaped to the kitchen. All the other presents were forgotten for the moment.
Soon the deed was done. King Fluffkins still sat on Dan’s lap, dressed in his tiny blue sweater with a cat in a Santa hat and white snowflakes all around it, and looked entirely dissatisfied. Sir Fat Cat, however, jumped out of Kevin’s hands and landed on Neil and Andrew, showing off his identical but green sweater. His big eyes stared into theirs. He purred.
‘Isn’t he the cutest thing?’ Nicky swooned. He pulled his mobile out of his jeans’ back pocket. ‘I gotta take a photo for Erik.’ The cat turned his head to him as if he wanted to be photographed.
‘He is the cutest thing,’ agreed Dan, stroking King Fluffkins’ clothed back. She stroked Matt’s right thigh, too. ‘Except for you, of course.’ Whether she said it to her husband or the cat, no one knew.
Kevin took several pictures too. ‘Andrew, admit it. He’s adorable and you know it.’
‘I thought your fashion choices weren’t that tragic,’ he answered. ‘Guess I was wrong.’
‘Neil. Back me up a little,’ Kevin begged. He sat on the armrest again and pocketed his mobile. His hand reached for a cup of eggnog he’s brought from the kitchen alongside the cat.
Sir Fat Cat enjoyed it. He purred with content and looked at them with all the love a lazy cat could have for his family. In its own way, the atrocious sweater he wouldn’t put on a human being wasn’t all the way as atrocious on his cat. He still didn’t approve, but at least it made him smile. ‘He’s adorable.’
‘See, Andrew? It’s five on one. Do the math.’ Nicky stole Sir Fat Cat from them. Andrew continued to sit in silence, but in the end, he threw his arms up in defeat. ‘Fine.’ He took his cup and drank from it. What he said next was muffled by the plastic. ‘Yeah, they’re adorable.’
‘Ha! I heard it!’ Neil laughed at Nicky and smiled at Andrew. He was adorable too.
9 Days Christmas Writing Challenge 2017: I → Twissy
for @skywaliker
She rolled onto her side. Her hand fell ungraciously on a soft, warm, yet empty pillow. That brought her attention. The Doctor seldom got up early.
She let out a sound that was hardly ladylike. A Time Lady she was, but not a happy one. She felt like yelling at him. She did. ‘Doctor!’ Her voice was hoarse from hours and hours of sleep. ‘Doctor!’ she yelled again. Little did it help.
She was forced to leave the warm comfort of her (their) bed. What was the old piece of seaweed up to? She threw a lilac dressing gown over her nightie and put on a pair of shoes. She would not wander through the TARDIS’ corridors barefoot; the floor was cold. The door opened automatically for her.
She was halfway through the way to the console room when she heard his grumpy voice. There was some swearing involved, and objects falling on the ground.
‘What on Gallifrey are you doing in there, Doctor?’ she called. Her pace quickened. The gown flew around her like a cape in the wind. Her long hair was messy.
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ he replied. ‘Decorating! Rather unsuccessfully, might I add.’
She stepped into the room––and saw the disaster. In one corner of the console room stood a tall, thin spruce bedecked with orange tinsel and a dozen old cogwheels, under which a pile of needles begged to be carried round the TARDIS on shoe soles. The console was wrapped in red and yellow light chains, all the way up to the rotors, and the Doctor stood on a step-ladder, trying to untangle a bunch of blue and green lights and a plastic tinsel imitating fir branches so he could hang them on the rails (or gods knew where). There were some mistletoe and a box of pink baubles, too. She wanted to crush them.
He frowned at his lights. She frowned at him. ‘Why?’
‘Missy, it’s Christmas!’ he answered as if that explained everything. There was a smile in his tone, but it didn’t reach his face.
‘So? Last time I checked Time Lords didn’t celebrate Earth holidays.’
‘But it’s nice, isn’t it? What do you say, hmm?’ His eyes followed the room. He really seemed to like the poorly decorated tree. ‘Adds a bit of glamour to all the metal.’ He returned to his tangled bunch, and her immediate thought was to push him off the step-ladder.
‘Doctor, you aren’t being serious if you think I’ll let you cover the TARDIS in this,’ she spun around, pointing at all the Christmas decorations, ‘horrible kitschy mess. No, it doesn’t add glamour to the metal. It will always be metal. Now, get down before I throw you off the thing.’
‘Why do you have to be so negative, Missy? This is fun!’ He finally freed the green tinsel. Well, almost. ‘Damn this thing!’
‘I’d hate to shock your grace, but my definition of fun involves fewer shiny plastic trinkets and more plans on controlling the universe.’ She waltzed to the ladder and leant against it, one hand wrapped around the Doctor’s ankle and the other playing with her mouth. She flashed her dark long eyelashes at him.
He dropped the tinsel on the floor with a relieved sigh. ‘Come on, Missy, when was the last time we did something like this together? Take this and put it over there,’ he pointed vaguely at the stairs.
‘Never, and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much.’ She kicked at the chain. ‘I think I’ll go grab some pizza for breakfast. Want some? Wait... I’m not giving you any.’ She gave the step-ladder a slight push, enough to unsettle him. ‘I might set that hideous conifer on fire, while I’m at it. It would look good with the orange.’
‘Do you have something against orange?’ the Doctor raised his thick eyebrows, oblivious to her words. She turned to go to the kitchen, but his question stopped her.
‘Our entire planet is orange. I’ve seen enough of it for several lifetimes. Purple would match the pink balls better,’ she suggested. ‘Not that it matters when it’ll burn to ashes anyway.’
His hands stopped working. Were the chain and the tinsel a conundrum too difficult for him to solve, and did he finally give up? ‘What’s rule number fourteen?’ He climbed down the step-ladder.
The corners of her mouth dropped in a disappointed grimace. ‘No fire on the TARDIS,’ she said.
‘And do you know what that means?’ he asked her as if she was ten.
‘I won’t burn the conifer, I get it.’ She threw her hands up in defeat. Slowly, she faced him again. ‘Seriously, you’re no fun, Doctor. At least go back to bed with me,’ she said more softly.
‘I have to finish this first,’ he lifted the knot in his hand. ‘It won’t untangle itself,’ he muttered, his mind occupied with it once more.
‘Are you even listening to me?’ she raised her voice. Abruptly, she tore it from his busy hands. ‘You’re too stupid to ever untangle it. You could try turning it on, maybe, then you could tell the colours apart. But no, the Doctor is an idiot.’ She clicked the button at the end of the light chains, took the blue one in hands, and got to work. ‘How did these get tangled in the first place?’
‘How would I know?’ he shrugged. She could feel him staring at her slender fingers wrapped in lights, extracting one chain from another deftly and more elegantly than he could ever do it.
She smirked. ‘How about you ask the guy in red jumper who put them together in one box?’
‘Shut up.’ There was a hint of a smile. She didn’t have to look at him to know.
‘If you won’t let me burn the conifer, at least bring me the pizza. I’m craving some salami and jalapeno.’
‘Yes, sir,’ he mocked, and added a question, ‘Do you want some gingerbread, too?’
This time, she looked up. The blue chain was almost free of the deathly grip of its green enemy. ‘Did you bake it or buy it?’
‘Is that a trick question?’ Confusion coloured his expression again.
‘Yes. Which is it?’ she was getting slightly impatient.
He contemplated the answer for a while. ‘Neither. I was a gift from an... old friend.’ He didn’t say who. Didn’t have to. There were few people he was still in contact with.
‘Might as well risk it then.’ The light chain clattered on the floor, between their feet. The green one was still tangled in itself. ‘Well, go on! I ain’t waiting all day.’ As he was walking away, she called after him, ‘And get rid of the orange tinsel, for the sake of the universe. Replace it with the lights.’
9 Days Christmas Writing Challenge 2017: IV → Roxelle (or what’s the name)
for @lothlorieh
Roxy stirred nervously under her mother’s sharp eyes. The silence was beginning to reach the level of uncomfortable. Her dress seemed perhaps too tight on her thighs. (To which a revolver and a small knife were strapped—just a precaution...)
Father put a large piece of turkey into his mouth and chewed. She had to say something.
She looked at Gazelle. Her girlfriend cut her meat in small, delicate bits and did her best to smile at Roxy’s parents. She has replaced her sword prosthetics with classic ones, hidden under a long black overall that made her look utterly gorgeous. The encouraging smile she gave her was genuine.
‘So how are things at work? Has anything interesting happened?’ she finally asked. Mother was an English professor at Cambridge. Things were rarely interesting with her line of work; Roxy knew. But politeness was a lady’s armour. (Kingsman lesson number three.)
‘Not particularly,’ she answered and scooped up some of the turkey stuffing. ‘You know how it is. Boring meetings and students who think too highly of themselves.’ Father laughed. Roxy ate some mashed potatoes and took a sip of wine. ‘Yeah,’ she replied.
He looked at her and then at Gazelle. ‘Why don’t you tell us how did you two meet, Roxy? It must be an interesting story.’
She was worried someone might ask that question. She drank more of the wine, and opened her mouth to give them the version she had rehearsed, but Gazelle beat her to it. ‘We tried to kill each other back when I worked for Valentine.’
Roxy nearly dropped her glass. Uncle Stephen, also known as Percival, shot Gazelle a look of accusation and warning. Her parents stopped chewing. They had no idea what had really happened, and it had to stay that way.
Gazelle just shrugged and raised an innocent eyebrow at Percival.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Mother asked.
‘It’s not like that,’ Roxy said quickly. She faked a laugh. ‘Gazelle used to work for Valentine, that much is true,’ she admitted, ‘but as far as killing goes, we merely hit each other with fruits when the madness began. It wasn’t anything serious.’ She flashed another smile.
This was, by all means, the worst excuse she has ever made up in two seconds.
‘Grocery shopping,’ added Gazelle. Roxy hoped she would play along; she was slightly surprised she did so nonetheless. She was badass and beautiful and amazing, but not when it came to other people.
‘Grocery shopping?’ Father repeated. A piece of turkey threatened to slide down his fork if he didn’t put it in his mouth it soon.
‘Yes, at Sainsbury’s.’ He ate the turkey. She continued dispatching her dinner as well. It let them know she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Percival set aside his utensils and took his glass of wine. ‘Well, that certainly is interesting.’ His glance remained suspicious. It has been months, and yet he still distrusted Gazelle.
Roxy cleared her throat. She raised her glass as well and drank. ‘Merry Christmas,’ she said.
‘Merry Christmas!’ It was a mechanical group chant. ‘I hope you like our turkey, miss,’ Mother said to Gazelle. She agreed. It was delicious indeed.
(But not as much as the kisses they shared later when dinner was eaten and crackers opened.)
Here we are again, it’s Christmas time, and that means writing time! For those who haven’t heard of Nine Days Christmas Writing Challenge – who am I kidding, none of you did, I was a nobody with 250 followers last time I did this – it’s a challenge I’ve made three years ago, and since last year, I’ve been sharing it with all of you. And what is it exactly, you ask?
It’s simple (and multifandom). Between 24/12 and 1/1 write eight short stories and one crossover fic about anything that has something to do with winter or Christmas.
RULES:
write for two different fandoms at least and eight at most
you can write for a different fandom every day or combine 2, 3...
all ratings allowed
all pairings allowed (platonic and OT3s as well)
word count up to 5,000
single chapter works only
AUs welcome
TO PARTICIPATE:
reblog this post
tag your work with #9dcwc2017 (#9dcwc is the general tag)
if you post on AO3 as well, put it in this collection
try to post one fic every day
if you can write but can’t post (for example, I am offline from 26/12 to 2/1, so I have to do it this way), post all of your fics later, naturally
CROSSOVER:
write this one on 1/1
crossover fandoms from previous 8 works
you can choose two or three of them
New Year’s Day theme
I hope you understand the rules :) If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. Even if you can’t participate or aren’t a writer at all, reblog this post to signal boost so more writers can see it. And don’t forget to read other people’s works in the tag and, mainly, have fun, because that’s what this is about! :)
