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annebd · 1 month ago

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winter warmers, day 16: secret santa. ~1800 words <-holy shit.

There’s a little box on the corner of Daniel’s desk, wrapped neatly in green paper and topped with a gold bow. The tag is a small square card, no more than a couple inches across, with a short message on one side:

To: Daniel

From: Your Secret Santa

Daniel opens the box and unfolds the carefully wrapped tissue paper bundle inside to remove the expected Scrabble tile. Today is the letter H. He tucks it into the top drawer of his desk, along with the rest of the tiles. The bow is also gently removed and stuck up on the pinboard next to the other twenty-two bows that he’s gotten so far this month. Some are gold, some silver, a few red and green.

There’s one particularly sparkly bow that’s been shedding glitter on him and all of his possessions for the past week. Halfway through the marketing team meeting last Thursday, Max reached over and brushed his thumb across Daniel’s cheekbone.

“You are all shiny, Daniel,” he said and showed him the sparkles of golden glitter that he’d rubbed off. “Always you’re so handsome, but today you’re like a shining star, too.”

Daniel was pretty sure he’d turned bright red, not even the deep tan in the middle of an Australian summer able to hide the color rising in his cheeks.

“Oh, uh, thanks, mate,” he replied and then turned back to the meeting on the last marketing push for Christmas sales, while trying not to think about the feeling of Max’s hand against his skin.

Today’s bow isn’t quite as glittery, but it does glint prettily in the glow of Daniel’s desk lamp. It’s 8:52am on December 23rd. Early enough that he has time to sip his coffee without interruption for a few minutes as he waits for his computer to boot up and he has to hop into the workday.

He eyes the drawer that holds the Scrabble tiles and decides he’s got time. As he’s done so many times so far this month, he pulls them all out and scatters them across his desk. Twenty three tiles so far. One of them is a blank, but a little question mark has been drawn on in black sharpie.

The ? tile showed up on the 17th, and he assumed that that was the end of it, so he’d spent the entire day trying to unscramble the letters, but couldn’t get anywhere. When another N arrived the next day, he realized that it wasn’t quite over yet.

The first box had arrived on the first of December. He wasn’t expecting it. George, over in operations, had floated the idea of doing a Secret Santa exchange a few weeks prior, but there had been so much hemming and hawing, with no one really wanting to commit, that he’d given up and moved on. Daniel hadn’t given it any further thought until the first box showed up.

Like every day since, the little box was wrapped inexpertly, though neatly, with green paper, and had a red bow stuck right on top. The same note, from “your secret Santa,” was attached. The Scrabble tile that day had been a D. Daniel assumed it stood for Daniel and that someone was either playing a silly joke, or truly had the worst taste in gift giving.

That assumption was only further confirmed on the second, when another box arrived, containing an R, which he could only assume stood for Ricciardo.

Thoroughly confused, he stopped by George’s office to poke his head in the door and ask when the Secret Santa drawing had been and why he hadn’t been involved.

“There was no drawing, mate,” George told him. “You lot were all too cool for the idea, so I didn’t bother. Why d’you ask?”

“Huh,” Daniel said, flummoxed. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

He brought it up to Max when they had lunch that Friday. It was Daniel’s favorite part of the week- getting Max all to himself for an hour, to make ridiculous jokes and watch Max turn pink from laughter.

“Strange, isn’t it? Just a random couple of Scrabble tiles. What, am I supposed to use them to make a name tag for myself?”

“Maybe you have a secret admirer,” Max replied. “And they are, of course, just using the Secret Santa as an excuse to send you gifts.”

“They’re some weird gifts, then,” Daniel said, and took a bite of his pastrami on rye. It was good. Mustardy.

“They might get better. It could be fun.” Max looked over at Daniel, who was in the middle of another big bite of his sandwich. “You’ve got a little-” and pointed to the corner of Daniel’s mouth. He reached out, as though he intended to swipe away the crumb with his own finger, but he pulled back and let Daniel dab at his mouth with a napkin.

“Thanks, Max. And I guess you’re right. But I reserve the right to be annoyed if it’s just a bunch of letters spelling my name.

Day three put a wrench in the name theory when he popped open the box and found a V. So definitely not his name then.

Over the next couple of days, he received a W and a Y. On the following Monday, he showed up to two Ls and another E, each tucked into one of three boxes lined up carefully along the edge of his desk. He’d wondered what would happen over the weekend, and he was quietly pleased that his secret Santa had taken into account the extra days.

And today, as Daniel sits sipping his coffee with twenty two letters and a question mark, he decides that he’s got to be able to figure this out. Christmas is in just two days, which means that he’s only expecting two more gifts. And really, he’s only expecting one gift, since the office is closed on the 25th, and he’s not coming in for anything- even a secret Santa surprise.

Daniel mixes the tiles around, trying different combinations of words. The twenty three tiles at hand read NOIVUHHTLEMIWARELDYNIE?, which he’s pretty sure isn’t a thing. He can spell various words. He’s got the letters for DANIEL, but not RICCIARDO, so he’s mostly ruled out his initial name tag theory.

He’s been able to make a few phrases, some more promising than others. He had “HAVE YOU LET ME DIE?” laid out when Max stopped by his desk last week.

Max had raised an eyebrow at the phrase and given Daniel a disapproving look. “You don’t think that’s what your secret admirer is saying, do you?”

Daniel shrugged. “No clue, mate. Your guess is as good as mine right now.”

Max didn’t offer any actual help, but he scrambled the tiles again so that the question was no longer visible. “I don’t know either, but probably it isn’t about death.”

Daniel tries a few more letter combos, but nothing is jumping out at him. As the clock on his desktop ticks over to 9:00, he gathers up the tiles and places them back into his drawer.

When he heads out of the office that afternoon, he bumps into Max in the elevator. “You’re wrapping up early today!” he exclaims.

Max is always staying late at the office, and Daniel is forever trying to get him to leave on time, have a life outside of work. But Max insists that software engineering waits for no man, and he’d rather just get as much work done in the office as possible, instead of having to take it home with him and continue with it there.

“Hello, Daniel,” Max says. “Yes, today is an early night. I have some things to do today. Before Christmas, you know.”

“I’m glad,” Daniel replies. “See you tomorrow?”

Max gives him a big smile. “Yes. Tomorrow. See you then.”

The next day is Christmas Eve, and, Daniel assumes, the last day of his Secret Santa gifts. He still has no clue what the tiles are supposed to be telling him, but he feels a nervous energy thrumming in his stomach. Something big is coming, he thinks.

He gets to his desk by 8:45, eager to unwrap his final gift and finally figure out what’s going on. To his surprise, instead of just the one little green box he’s expecting, there are three wrapped presents on his desk. The first is the usual green box, but the tag that he’s expecting to proclaim the usual salutations instead proclaims “open me first.” He checks the other two. The box to its right reads “open me second.” And, just to be sure, he confirms that the final box on the end says to open it last.

With a slight shake in his hand, he picks up the first box and plucks off the bow to secure it to the pinboard. He opens it up and pulls out the last tile, another W. He adds it to the stash in his drawer and then reaches for the second box.

It’s the same size as the first, wrapped in the same way- no bow on this one. Perhaps it’s a one bow per day kind of deal.

Inside, there’s a small slip of paper folded in half. Daniel unfolds it to find a clue:

W_ _ _ Y_ _ H_ _ _ D _ _ _ _ _ W _ _ _ M_?

He waffles for a moment. Does he open the third gift, or does he unscramble the letters? The opening instructions didn’t say, so he supposes he could do either. Tiles, he decides.

He pulls open the drawer and tips the tiles onto his desk, then carefully arranges each one face up and pointing in the right direction.

Slowly, he starts moving tiles around. The Y is probably You, he guesses. So perhaps the M is Me? And then H could be Have. W is What? No, he realizes; that wouldn’t make sense. W for Will?

A sentence begins to take shape.

WILL YOU HAVE D_ _ _ _ _ W _ _ _ ME?

Daniel is fairly certain where this is going. He arranges the last few letters into place and then reaches for the third box. He tears open the paper, carefully as usual, and opens the box.

Inside is a card, on which is printed the name of the fanciest restaurant in Perth, which Daniel has been wanting to try for months, but which he has lamented to Max several times is impossible to get reservations for.

Beneath the name of the restaurant is today’s date, the 24th, and a time, 7pm.

Beneath that, there’s a final line, which simply says “TURN AROUND.”

Daniel takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and then swivels in his chair.

Behind him, Max is leaned against the doorframe to his office.

“So?” he asks. “I asked a question, I think.”

Daniel looks back over the tiles, laid out neatly on his desk. He looks back at Max and grins helplessly. “Yeah, Maxy. I would love to.”

#winterwarmers2024 #my fic #maxiel #i had so much fun with this one!

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k-didathing · 24 days ago

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The Hand and the Hound -- a Medieval Dogwarts AU

For as long as anyone in the kingdom of Dogwarts could remember, a very peculiar thing has been known to happen: for a few days each month, the King of Dogwarts would vanish into the surrounding forests and the King’s Hand would be temporarily in charge until the King returned. Nobody knew what he did in the forest or why he went, but nobody seemed to question it. Nobody, that is, except Martyn. He had been the King’s Hand for years, after all, and the King trusted him with all his secrets (possibly because the King was terrible at keeping them). So why didn’t Ren seem to trust him with this secret? It was enough to drive Martyn insane.

One day, the Desert People arrived in Dogwarts completely unannounced. The Desert People were a force to be reckoned with, making formidable allies and even deadlier enemies, and the kingdom of Dogwarts had a… tumultuous history with them, to say the least. But they appeared to come in peace, so Ren hoped that he could discuss the means for a truce with them, maybe even an alliance, if he was lucky.

Dogwarts gave the Desert People the best they had to offer, throwing a grand feast upon their arrival. Ren was naturally seated next to Scar, the leader of the Desert People, while Martyn sat next to Grian, Scar’s close companion.

“No offense, but you kind of came at a weird time,” Martyn said mid-conversation with Grian.

“Weird how?” Grian asked.

“Ren has to leave in a few days, and I’ll have to hold down the fort while he’s gone. One of the duties of being the King’s Hand, I suppose.”

“Ah. Where’s he headed, then?”

“That’s the weird part — nobody knows. He just vanishes once a month, and he insists that he can’t tell anyone where he’s going or why. It’s infuriating, is what it is.”

A memory sparked in Martyn’s mind: it was from an evening long ago, when he had followed Ren as he was leaving, all the way to the Outer Gates.

“…Milord!” Martyn called as Ren was at the threshold of the forest. Ren briefly turned back towards him, lowering the hood of the simple tunic that he was wearing.

“Can you-“ Martyn sighed. “Would you like me to accompany you? It would be much safer, you know.”

Ren chuckled softly. “Thank you, me laddy, but I’ll be quite alright on my own.”

Martyn took a deep breath and decided to just get out with it. "Can you really not tell me why you’re going? You can trust me. You know that… right?”

If his old friends could have seen him then, he would have scoffed and called him soft. When Martyn had first met Ren, he assumed that their relationship would eventually fall apart, and they would go their separate ways.

The trouble is, they never did.

“I know, me Hand. And if it were in my power, I would have told you the truth long ago. But alas, there are some journeys in life that a man must bear alone. Farewell, Me laddy.” And with that, he vanished into the woods, leaving Martyn lonely and confused.

Grian took a sip from his goblet. “Hm. That is weird.” Then suddenly, he stood up. “Do you mind if I grab a cloak real fast? It’s freezing in here.”

It wasn’t freezing in the mead hall. It never was, since the fires were always blazing hot. “Too cold for a desert person?” Martyn said with a teasing smirk.

Grian smiled back, but Martyn could see the uncertainty in his eyes. “Yeah.”

And just as Martyn suspected, Grian approached Scar a few minutes later, whispered something in his ear, and pulled him aside. Soon after, Grian returned wearing a woolen red cloak. “Sorry for leaving like that,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Martyn replied, but he knew there was something at play here.

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#I had so much fun with this one!#dogwarts #renchanting duo #martyn inthelittlewood #rendog #writing #grian #gtws #hath au

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