Post by wordy on Dec 8, 2012 16:14:12 GMT 10
Title: the happiest season of all
Rating: G
Prompt: #4 festivities
Summary: Briar seems to be the only one getting into the holiday spirit.
A/N: This is the sequel to the most wonderful time of the year, and I’ve got a few more up my sleeve. Because Emelan modern AUs are addictive, especially at Christmas.
“No,” said Tris, in the same tone he’d heard her use on Little Bear. Her arms were full of books and she was trying to back right through the door she had closed only a moment ago.
“Don’t be a scrooge,” said Briar, trying not to grin and failing. “Everyone has to obey the rules of mistletoe. I thought you liked rules.”
“Rules about proper things, like traffic lights, and shoplifting.”
She looked less like a cornered animal now and more like her usual self, cross expression and all. But she had her arms full and there was no escape.
Briar loved Christmas.
“This is the fifth time in two days,” Tris moaned.
“We really should stop meeting like this,” he agreed cheerfully, then swooped in for the kill. Tris didn’t twitch and yell like she had the first two times, though she did heave a long-suffering sigh, as though living with him was such a trial.
Just for that, he made it more of a wet raspberry than a kiss.
“Briar,” she scolded, trying to wipe her cheek with her shoulder. Unfortunately she couldn’t achieve the movement properly with all those books in her arms. He laughed, but helped her unpile it all on the kitchen table, then leaned across the counter to switch on the electric jug. They had all learned from experience that Tris needed a cup of tea or two after work; dealing with hipster undergrads would do that to a person, Briar supposed.
“Daja’s been in her room all day, probably finishing up her Christmas presents,” he said, before Tris could ask. “Sandry’s visiting her uncle. And I took Little Bear for a walk this morning.”
“Thanks. I’m still mad at you,” she told him, looking quite the opposite.
She wasn’t such a bad sport about the mistletoe, really. Daja tended to just ignore him, which was amusing in its own way, but not much fun. There was mistletoe hanging at the front door and the back door, plus here and there in the hallways. It made their small house look that little bit more festive. He hadn’t encountered Sandry under any of it yet, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to: a little crush he could deal with, but kissing? All possible scenarios had already been played out in his head; the risks seemed to outweigh the advantages.
The jug clicked off and Tris got up from the table to make her tea. “What’s got you down in the dumps all of a sudden?”
Briar straightened. He hadn’t meant to mope. Tris was far more perceptive than his other housemates, particularly when you didn’t want her to be. “Nothing.”
“Hmm,” was all she said, then—“Well you’d better cheer up by tomorrow night.”
He groaned. “Church on Christmas Eve, what could be worse?”
“A great many things, I’d imagine.”
“You never have people scowling at you for two whole hours.”
“I would if I carried on like you do. And Rosethorn doesn’t scowl at you.”
“She does,” he insisted. “It’s just with her eyes. She has to be sneaky about it.”
Tris gave him a look and sat down across from him once more. The steam from her cup of tea was already beginning to redden her cheeks and the way she thinned her lips made him thankful—not for the first time—that he wasn’t one of her students.
She took a sip of her tea, then smiled. “Who’s the scrooge now?”
Rating: G
Prompt: #4 festivities
Summary: Briar seems to be the only one getting into the holiday spirit.
A/N: This is the sequel to the most wonderful time of the year, and I’ve got a few more up my sleeve. Because Emelan modern AUs are addictive, especially at Christmas.
“No,” said Tris, in the same tone he’d heard her use on Little Bear. Her arms were full of books and she was trying to back right through the door she had closed only a moment ago.
“Don’t be a scrooge,” said Briar, trying not to grin and failing. “Everyone has to obey the rules of mistletoe. I thought you liked rules.”
“Rules about proper things, like traffic lights, and shoplifting.”
She looked less like a cornered animal now and more like her usual self, cross expression and all. But she had her arms full and there was no escape.
Briar loved Christmas.
“This is the fifth time in two days,” Tris moaned.
“We really should stop meeting like this,” he agreed cheerfully, then swooped in for the kill. Tris didn’t twitch and yell like she had the first two times, though she did heave a long-suffering sigh, as though living with him was such a trial.
Just for that, he made it more of a wet raspberry than a kiss.
“Briar,” she scolded, trying to wipe her cheek with her shoulder. Unfortunately she couldn’t achieve the movement properly with all those books in her arms. He laughed, but helped her unpile it all on the kitchen table, then leaned across the counter to switch on the electric jug. They had all learned from experience that Tris needed a cup of tea or two after work; dealing with hipster undergrads would do that to a person, Briar supposed.
“Daja’s been in her room all day, probably finishing up her Christmas presents,” he said, before Tris could ask. “Sandry’s visiting her uncle. And I took Little Bear for a walk this morning.”
“Thanks. I’m still mad at you,” she told him, looking quite the opposite.
She wasn’t such a bad sport about the mistletoe, really. Daja tended to just ignore him, which was amusing in its own way, but not much fun. There was mistletoe hanging at the front door and the back door, plus here and there in the hallways. It made their small house look that little bit more festive. He hadn’t encountered Sandry under any of it yet, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to: a little crush he could deal with, but kissing? All possible scenarios had already been played out in his head; the risks seemed to outweigh the advantages.
The jug clicked off and Tris got up from the table to make her tea. “What’s got you down in the dumps all of a sudden?”
Briar straightened. He hadn’t meant to mope. Tris was far more perceptive than his other housemates, particularly when you didn’t want her to be. “Nothing.”
“Hmm,” was all she said, then—“Well you’d better cheer up by tomorrow night.”
He groaned. “Church on Christmas Eve, what could be worse?”
“A great many things, I’d imagine.”
“You never have people scowling at you for two whole hours.”
“I would if I carried on like you do. And Rosethorn doesn’t scowl at you.”
“She does,” he insisted. “It’s just with her eyes. She has to be sneaky about it.”
Tris gave him a look and sat down across from him once more. The steam from her cup of tea was already beginning to redden her cheeks and the way she thinned her lips made him thankful—not for the first time—that he wasn’t one of her students.
She took a sip of her tea, then smiled. “Who’s the scrooge now?”