Christmas ficlets, part I
Dec. 26th, 2008 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsuru_sanHappy Holidays! I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas.
I got to see some of my family including my awesome cousin Chris yesterday. Honestly, though, this hasn't been one of the best Christmases ever for me. Unfortunately, I've been quite sick almost all week, and I'm still feeling pretty crappy.
Am a bit behind with the story requests, but here is the first half. They were fun to write and made me feel a bit better. The other ficlets should be showing up sometime tomorrow.
Title: Christmas in Vienna
Fandom: Underworld
For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pilar_sama
Rated: PG
Prompt: Lucian/Singe with snow.
Singe breathed deeply, and the cold, winter air of Vienna filled his lungs. (Even though becoming a werewolf had long since cured his leukemia, the scientist had never taken breathing for granted again.) Little, indistinguishable snowflakes peppered his hair and blurred his glasses, and oh God, this felt like home. He and Lucian, leader of the lycan pack, had been touring Europe and even America to recruit new members, but now they had returned to familiar turf, stopping at Vienna on their way to Budapest. And now, back in Austria at last, the doctor had realized just how homesick he had been. It was business, true, but the two werewolves had also stopped here for a brief bit of relaxation, and Singe in particular was grateful.
Ah, Vienna! She was a dazzle and a dream, especially around Christmas. Numerous balls and parties were held every year at this time. Singe had been invited to many of the most exclusive ones when he had still been a mortal scientist. He'd never forgotten the gay dancing and festive atmosphere.
That was why he had convinced Lucian to go with him to one of the balls. A more public one, yes, but the scientist was still eager. Lucian had tried to refuse, but Singe's earnestness eventually won him over. The Austrian doctor knew his lover would have preferred to attend another fencing match (tournaments seemed as ubiquitous as balls in Vienna this winter), but he was happy that Lucian had acquiesced.
They were even in a limo. That part had been Lucian's idea though Singe hardly minded. (And had Singe ever told Lucian how good he looked in a suit? Strong and confidant, his unruly ponytail held back in an elegant plaited queue.) When they arrived at the ball, the lycan leader helped his companion from the car, ever the elegant gentleman. Lucian had once served the vampires, and it seemed his knowledge of high-society grace and manners had not been forgotten.
Lucian's smile as they were bathed in the bright lights of the party was equally brilliant. He eyed the dance floor with some interest and said, "You know, I think I'm glad that you talked me into this. Otherwise I wouldn't have had a chance to see you so handsomely attired."
Singe mirrored the expression warmly. "You're quite a wonderful sight too, old friend."
-fin-
Title: On a Quiet Night in Bethlehem
Fandom: Bible
For:jestana
Rated: PG-13
Prompt: Raphael and Asmodeus on the night of Jesus' birth.
Notes: You also end up with the two-for-one deal. This fic references and is kind of a sequel to one of my older stories, "An Angel's Mercy", but that fic I wrote back in February 2005 ergo it needed a serious face lift. So here 'tis, the new and improved and three pages longer An Angel's Mercy. ^^
It was very difficult, Asmodeus decided, to fight an angel when you had no power. And the boot pressing into his back and holding him down with a disconcertingly little amount of effort, that was just adding insult to injury.
"Your audacity is astounding." The voice came from somewhere overheard, and it sounded vaguely familiar though the tone was one that Asmodeus had never heard before. And whoever had figured that angels were sweet, celestial beings was an idiot because those white-winged rats could be smug bastards when they felt like it.
The boot heel ground down a little. It didn't hurt, not really, but the sheer indignity was twice as bad as physical pain. Asmodeus was going to kill the angel. As soon as he stood up and wiped the mud off his face.
"Do you want to know why you're currently kissing the dirt?" Archangel Raphael asked. "It's because the Savior is being born; His birth cancels out any demon's power, especially this close. You've picked a very poor time to attack Him."
"As if!" Asmodeus sneered though the effect was lessened by the fact that he could only turn his head a tiny bit in either direction. "The Christ child is human, isn't He? My lot will have plenty of time to off the little brat later. I'm here for smaller stakes."
The boot eased off a smidge. "Oh? What stakes?"
"You."
Raphael stepped back and wordlessly reached down, flipping Asmodeus over onto his back. The demon started to rise, but stopped when he found himself staring up the business end of the angel's sword. The weapon wasn't flaming right then, but Asmodeus knew Raphael could change that with a thought. The angel's gaze was cold, and the demon found that he much preferred the previous light teasing.
The sword blade shone under the unnaturally bright starlight, and Asmodeus tensed, closing his eyes, but when the expected smiting failed to arrive, he tentatively glanced up. Raphael held the sword point perfectly still and uncomfortably close to Asmodeus's throat; however, the angel's face was clouded by indecision.
With a frustrated sigh, the silvery sword was finally drawn away from Asmodeus's throat and returned to its sheath before Raphael knelt beside the demon. The angel's lips quirked up a little in an expression that wasn't quite a smile but was at least far from hostile. Asmodeus flinched from the caress of silk gloves against a shallow cut on his face, but Raphael didn't hit him. Instead there was a faint tingle as the skin healed, flawlessly re-knitting itself. The angel didn't back away though; he continued kneeling there, his gloved hand warm against the demon's cheek.
"What are you staring at?" Asmodeus eventually asked, garnet eyes narrowed.
"I've never really seen you up close without being in danger myself," Raphael commented idly. "Unless you count the last time we were in Bethlehem."
Asmodeus remembered—it had only been about a decade ago—and swore silently. "So you did recognize me..."
"No." Raphael finally took his hand away and sat back, legs crossed under his white robe. "But I ran into Raguel shortly after I returned to heaven. He told me that he injured you in Bethlehem but that you escaped, and then I put two and two together."
"Ah. Damn."
The angel clambered to his feet, dusting his robes off. "Shall we go then?"
"Go? Where?"
Raphael smiled. "You came looking for me, didn't you? Besides, you'd be safer if you came with me rather than stay by yourself...unless you want to risk running into other angels right now."
Reluctantly, Asmodeus was forced to agree. He followed Raphael down various streets and past full inns until they reached a rundown little place. Not bothering with the main building, Raphael led the way back to the stable. Asmodeus was surprised but faintly amused that the Son of God was going to be born alongside farm animals. Asmodeus and Raphael stood outside but out of sight from the humans. The child's birth was easier than most but otherwise unremarkable, a kindly midwife made it more bearable.
Silence reigned eventually, and the angel and demon stayed hidden next to one of the stable's shadowed walls, the entrance's light a nearby glow. Raphael seemed unconcerned that he had his back to Asmodeus; instead he was focused on some shepherds who had just arrived. Curious of the angel's reaction, Asmodeus laid a pale hand on his shoulder.
Raphael turned his head, unafraid to be so near Asmodeus when the demon was little stronger than a mortal. "Yes...?"
But Asmodeus could feel his strength returning, the shadows registering once more in his senses. "Nothing. Actually, I believe I shall be leaving soon. But first..."
He smiled coldly, the one hand touching Raphael's shoulder moving nearer to his neck. "You look quite the glowing guardian in that insipid white getup. I think I would prefer to see you not wearing it," he added with a suggestive sneer.
Incredulous surprise warred with anger as Raphael glanced from Asmodeus to the stable entrance and then back again. "You would profane this holy moment?"
Asmodeus grinned and took a step closer. "It's what I'm good at."
Raphael vacillated, still not sure that the demon would actually be brazen enough to try something here. In that moment of hesitation though, Asmodeus caught the angel by the shoulders and pushed him back—insistently but not roughly—against the stable's uneven stone wall.
"Don't—" Raphael started to protest, one hand gripping the demon's shoulder, but the words died away in a gasp as Asmodeus trailed teasing kisses down the side of the angel's face, pale fingers carding sensually through ginger hair.
The demon pulled back though when he heard the telltale click of a flaming sword being drawn. Asmodeus was quick to grab Raphael's wrist, stopping the angel from unsheathing the sword more than six inches; however, the angel struggled fitfully in the demon's grasp, more of the sword's shining blade coming free. Green eyes glared spitefully, promising that there would be no last minute mercies this time.
Demon and angel grappled, bodies twisting together as they fought for the hilt of the sword. From inside the stables, a baby cried mournfully. Flinching from the sound, Asmodeus eased his grip just enough for Raphael to take control, his sword drawn out with a bright flash. The blade stopped a hairsbreadth from the archdemon's face.
Asmodeus raised a mocking eyebrow. "Well that was anticlimactic. I assume undue liberties with your body and still you restrain yourself from hurting me. What would it take, I wonder, to make you actually strike me?"
"Keep talking and you may yet find out."
The demon smiled, and for once, chose not to press his luck.
Raphael leaned back against the rock wall with a sigh once Asmodeus had gone, vanishing behind a veil of shadow. The sword hung loosely in the angel's grasp, its point digging into the soft, sandy dirt. At length, a soft lullaby sung by a new mother warbled through the air, and Raphael closed his eyes, calmed by its loving notes.
fin
Title: Green Like His Eyes
Fandom: Harry Potter
For:shinseikatsu
Rated: PG
Prompt: A Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom Christmas story.
There was always something that stood out, some practical item or pretty bauble that Neville just knew would be perfect for Harry. Their first year at Hogwarts, it had been a special breed of Venus flytrap, spiky and cool looking and nearly impossible to kill (the ideal plant for an eleven-year-old boy). The next year Neville came across a first edition history of Quidditch book. The prize during their third year had been a shiny pocket watch.
This year the gift was a scarf. It was beautiful wool, hand knitted into an attractive rib pattern. But the color—that was the real thing about it—the color matched the shade of Harry's eyes exactly. It was a beautiful emerald green; a Slytherin color, true, but it would look good on Harry anyway. Neville was certain of that.
At first, Neville hadn't realized why he found Harry so fascinating. It hadn't been hero-worship, but it had felt too strong for camaraderie either. For awhile, Neville hadn't realized there was another option until he was thirteen when his aunt explained to him the birds and the bees and how some girls liked other girls and some boys liked other boys. After that, his feelings for Harry made perfect sense. Neville still blushed and stuttered when the other wizard came too close, but at least now he knew why.
Again Neville fixed his gaze on the scarf, trying and failing to summon the courage to reach for it. The young wizard checked his wallet, and yes, he had enough money. If only money was the only problem. Neville was certain he'd never work up the nerve to really give Harry something. Besides, what would he say? What reason could he possibly use to justify giving Harry Potter a Christmas present? Oh sure, they were friendly, they knew each other, but they weren't close.
Sadly, Neville knew a lost cause when he saw one, and this was more hopeless than his Potion's grade. Sighing, he was about to turn and leave the store when someone else came and stood next to him.
"Hello!" a young woman greeted him kindly. "Is there anything I can help you with, hon?"
Neville looked longingly at the scarf, warmed a little by the saleswoman's good cheer. If he gave a gift, he didn't have to tell Harry who it was from. He could leave it on the other wizard's bed, maybe with a secret admirer note. Then if he was really careful, he could try to be around when Harry opened it and see the pleased look on Harry's face. It would almost be like actually handing the gift to Harry. Almost.
Neville brightened a little. "I would like a scarf," he told the saleswoman. "The green one, please."
fin
I got to see some of my family including my awesome cousin Chris yesterday. Honestly, though, this hasn't been one of the best Christmases ever for me. Unfortunately, I've been quite sick almost all week, and I'm still feeling pretty crappy.
Am a bit behind with the story requests, but here is the first half. They were fun to write and made me feel a bit better. The other ficlets should be showing up sometime tomorrow.
Title: Christmas in Vienna
Fandom: Underworld
For:
pilar_samaRated: PG
Prompt: Lucian/Singe with snow.
Singe breathed deeply, and the cold, winter air of Vienna filled his lungs. (Even though becoming a werewolf had long since cured his leukemia, the scientist had never taken breathing for granted again.) Little, indistinguishable snowflakes peppered his hair and blurred his glasses, and oh God, this felt like home. He and Lucian, leader of the lycan pack, had been touring Europe and even America to recruit new members, but now they had returned to familiar turf, stopping at Vienna on their way to Budapest. And now, back in Austria at last, the doctor had realized just how homesick he had been. It was business, true, but the two werewolves had also stopped here for a brief bit of relaxation, and Singe in particular was grateful.
Ah, Vienna! She was a dazzle and a dream, especially around Christmas. Numerous balls and parties were held every year at this time. Singe had been invited to many of the most exclusive ones when he had still been a mortal scientist. He'd never forgotten the gay dancing and festive atmosphere.
That was why he had convinced Lucian to go with him to one of the balls. A more public one, yes, but the scientist was still eager. Lucian had tried to refuse, but Singe's earnestness eventually won him over. The Austrian doctor knew his lover would have preferred to attend another fencing match (tournaments seemed as ubiquitous as balls in Vienna this winter), but he was happy that Lucian had acquiesced.
They were even in a limo. That part had been Lucian's idea though Singe hardly minded. (And had Singe ever told Lucian how good he looked in a suit? Strong and confidant, his unruly ponytail held back in an elegant plaited queue.) When they arrived at the ball, the lycan leader helped his companion from the car, ever the elegant gentleman. Lucian had once served the vampires, and it seemed his knowledge of high-society grace and manners had not been forgotten.
Lucian's smile as they were bathed in the bright lights of the party was equally brilliant. He eyed the dance floor with some interest and said, "You know, I think I'm glad that you talked me into this. Otherwise I wouldn't have had a chance to see you so handsomely attired."
Singe mirrored the expression warmly. "You're quite a wonderful sight too, old friend."
-fin-
Title: On a Quiet Night in Bethlehem
Fandom: Bible
For:
jestanaRated: PG-13
Prompt: Raphael and Asmodeus on the night of Jesus' birth.
Notes: You also end up with the two-for-one deal. This fic references and is kind of a sequel to one of my older stories, "An Angel's Mercy", but that fic I wrote back in February 2005 ergo it needed a serious face lift. So here 'tis, the new and improved and three pages longer An Angel's Mercy. ^^
It was very difficult, Asmodeus decided, to fight an angel when you had no power. And the boot pressing into his back and holding him down with a disconcertingly little amount of effort, that was just adding insult to injury.
"Your audacity is astounding." The voice came from somewhere overheard, and it sounded vaguely familiar though the tone was one that Asmodeus had never heard before. And whoever had figured that angels were sweet, celestial beings was an idiot because those white-winged rats could be smug bastards when they felt like it.
The boot heel ground down a little. It didn't hurt, not really, but the sheer indignity was twice as bad as physical pain. Asmodeus was going to kill the angel. As soon as he stood up and wiped the mud off his face.
"Do you want to know why you're currently kissing the dirt?" Archangel Raphael asked. "It's because the Savior is being born; His birth cancels out any demon's power, especially this close. You've picked a very poor time to attack Him."
"As if!" Asmodeus sneered though the effect was lessened by the fact that he could only turn his head a tiny bit in either direction. "The Christ child is human, isn't He? My lot will have plenty of time to off the little brat later. I'm here for smaller stakes."
The boot eased off a smidge. "Oh? What stakes?"
"You."
Raphael stepped back and wordlessly reached down, flipping Asmodeus over onto his back. The demon started to rise, but stopped when he found himself staring up the business end of the angel's sword. The weapon wasn't flaming right then, but Asmodeus knew Raphael could change that with a thought. The angel's gaze was cold, and the demon found that he much preferred the previous light teasing.
The sword blade shone under the unnaturally bright starlight, and Asmodeus tensed, closing his eyes, but when the expected smiting failed to arrive, he tentatively glanced up. Raphael held the sword point perfectly still and uncomfortably close to Asmodeus's throat; however, the angel's face was clouded by indecision.
With a frustrated sigh, the silvery sword was finally drawn away from Asmodeus's throat and returned to its sheath before Raphael knelt beside the demon. The angel's lips quirked up a little in an expression that wasn't quite a smile but was at least far from hostile. Asmodeus flinched from the caress of silk gloves against a shallow cut on his face, but Raphael didn't hit him. Instead there was a faint tingle as the skin healed, flawlessly re-knitting itself. The angel didn't back away though; he continued kneeling there, his gloved hand warm against the demon's cheek.
"What are you staring at?" Asmodeus eventually asked, garnet eyes narrowed.
"I've never really seen you up close without being in danger myself," Raphael commented idly. "Unless you count the last time we were in Bethlehem."
Asmodeus remembered—it had only been about a decade ago—and swore silently. "So you did recognize me..."
"No." Raphael finally took his hand away and sat back, legs crossed under his white robe. "But I ran into Raguel shortly after I returned to heaven. He told me that he injured you in Bethlehem but that you escaped, and then I put two and two together."
"Ah. Damn."
The angel clambered to his feet, dusting his robes off. "Shall we go then?"
"Go? Where?"
Raphael smiled. "You came looking for me, didn't you? Besides, you'd be safer if you came with me rather than stay by yourself...unless you want to risk running into other angels right now."
Reluctantly, Asmodeus was forced to agree. He followed Raphael down various streets and past full inns until they reached a rundown little place. Not bothering with the main building, Raphael led the way back to the stable. Asmodeus was surprised but faintly amused that the Son of God was going to be born alongside farm animals. Asmodeus and Raphael stood outside but out of sight from the humans. The child's birth was easier than most but otherwise unremarkable, a kindly midwife made it more bearable.
Silence reigned eventually, and the angel and demon stayed hidden next to one of the stable's shadowed walls, the entrance's light a nearby glow. Raphael seemed unconcerned that he had his back to Asmodeus; instead he was focused on some shepherds who had just arrived. Curious of the angel's reaction, Asmodeus laid a pale hand on his shoulder.
Raphael turned his head, unafraid to be so near Asmodeus when the demon was little stronger than a mortal. "Yes...?"
But Asmodeus could feel his strength returning, the shadows registering once more in his senses. "Nothing. Actually, I believe I shall be leaving soon. But first..."
He smiled coldly, the one hand touching Raphael's shoulder moving nearer to his neck. "You look quite the glowing guardian in that insipid white getup. I think I would prefer to see you not wearing it," he added with a suggestive sneer.
Incredulous surprise warred with anger as Raphael glanced from Asmodeus to the stable entrance and then back again. "You would profane this holy moment?"
Asmodeus grinned and took a step closer. "It's what I'm good at."
Raphael vacillated, still not sure that the demon would actually be brazen enough to try something here. In that moment of hesitation though, Asmodeus caught the angel by the shoulders and pushed him back—insistently but not roughly—against the stable's uneven stone wall.
"Don't—" Raphael started to protest, one hand gripping the demon's shoulder, but the words died away in a gasp as Asmodeus trailed teasing kisses down the side of the angel's face, pale fingers carding sensually through ginger hair.
The demon pulled back though when he heard the telltale click of a flaming sword being drawn. Asmodeus was quick to grab Raphael's wrist, stopping the angel from unsheathing the sword more than six inches; however, the angel struggled fitfully in the demon's grasp, more of the sword's shining blade coming free. Green eyes glared spitefully, promising that there would be no last minute mercies this time.
Demon and angel grappled, bodies twisting together as they fought for the hilt of the sword. From inside the stables, a baby cried mournfully. Flinching from the sound, Asmodeus eased his grip just enough for Raphael to take control, his sword drawn out with a bright flash. The blade stopped a hairsbreadth from the archdemon's face.
Asmodeus raised a mocking eyebrow. "Well that was anticlimactic. I assume undue liberties with your body and still you restrain yourself from hurting me. What would it take, I wonder, to make you actually strike me?"
"Keep talking and you may yet find out."
The demon smiled, and for once, chose not to press his luck.
Raphael leaned back against the rock wall with a sigh once Asmodeus had gone, vanishing behind a veil of shadow. The sword hung loosely in the angel's grasp, its point digging into the soft, sandy dirt. At length, a soft lullaby sung by a new mother warbled through the air, and Raphael closed his eyes, calmed by its loving notes.
fin
Title: Green Like His Eyes
Fandom: Harry Potter
For:
shinseikatsuRated: PG
Prompt: A Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom Christmas story.
There was always something that stood out, some practical item or pretty bauble that Neville just knew would be perfect for Harry. Their first year at Hogwarts, it had been a special breed of Venus flytrap, spiky and cool looking and nearly impossible to kill (the ideal plant for an eleven-year-old boy). The next year Neville came across a first edition history of Quidditch book. The prize during their third year had been a shiny pocket watch.
This year the gift was a scarf. It was beautiful wool, hand knitted into an attractive rib pattern. But the color—that was the real thing about it—the color matched the shade of Harry's eyes exactly. It was a beautiful emerald green; a Slytherin color, true, but it would look good on Harry anyway. Neville was certain of that.
At first, Neville hadn't realized why he found Harry so fascinating. It hadn't been hero-worship, but it had felt too strong for camaraderie either. For awhile, Neville hadn't realized there was another option until he was thirteen when his aunt explained to him the birds and the bees and how some girls liked other girls and some boys liked other boys. After that, his feelings for Harry made perfect sense. Neville still blushed and stuttered when the other wizard came too close, but at least now he knew why.
Again Neville fixed his gaze on the scarf, trying and failing to summon the courage to reach for it. The young wizard checked his wallet, and yes, he had enough money. If only money was the only problem. Neville was certain he'd never work up the nerve to really give Harry something. Besides, what would he say? What reason could he possibly use to justify giving Harry Potter a Christmas present? Oh sure, they were friendly, they knew each other, but they weren't close.
Sadly, Neville knew a lost cause when he saw one, and this was more hopeless than his Potion's grade. Sighing, he was about to turn and leave the store when someone else came and stood next to him.
"Hello!" a young woman greeted him kindly. "Is there anything I can help you with, hon?"
Neville looked longingly at the scarf, warmed a little by the saleswoman's good cheer. If he gave a gift, he didn't have to tell Harry who it was from. He could leave it on the other wizard's bed, maybe with a secret admirer note. Then if he was really careful, he could try to be around when Harry opened it and see the pleased look on Harry's face. It would almost be like actually handing the gift to Harry. Almost.
Neville brightened a little. "I would like a scarf," he told the saleswoman. "The green one, please."
fin
