#pointsetta tag

[forsakenmissives]

being number 1 fan of no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft is not hard work but someone's got to do it

[attention-deficit-witch]

Lads what do I name him? He needs a name and I’m not quite sure, any suggestions?

[tisfan]

I would love to read something from you with 11. Nutcracker, B - Clint/Coulson. (P.S. I love your blog)

“That,”Clint said, looking up at the gaudy light display on the top shelf. “I wantthat.”

“In front of our home?” Phil wasless enthusiastic, but they’d already been to four stores before Clint hadfound what he wanted, and Phil was more of a throw-up-a-string-of-lights andcall-it-good kinda guy. Clint, on the other hand, had grown up in the circus,and he had actual legit feelings about Christmas and decorating.

“Yep,” Clint said. “Have to haveit.”

Well, it wasn’t like Phil minded.Mostly. They’d finally moved out of SHIELD supplied housing – which hadn’tkept them from sharing a bed, but there really wasn’t much privacy, or space –and into their own house. And it was their first Christmas together. Clint haddeclared that decorating was a must, and so he’d been hauling Phil all over theplace, looking for the perfect tree, the perfect ornaments, the perfect lights,and the perfect…

… giant life size polyresinnutcracker with an automatically opening and closing mouth and that randomlyraised its life size polyresin sword when someone approached it.

The price tag was a littleoff-putting. And the display itself slightly more creepy Christmas thanbringing Holiday cheer, but Phil considered himself a reasonable guy. He didn’thave any particular objections to the thing, although it certainly wasn’tsomething he’d have selected on his own. Who knew, though? It could be one ofthose things that became a thing. A relationship thing. Phil was lookingforward to having those.

“You have eight hundred dollarsburning a hole in your pocket, Barton?” Phil asked, peering up at it.

Clint shrugged. “I can afford it,”he said.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” anoverly cheerful voice said. “Help you with something?”

“Yep,” Clint said. “I want one ofthose.”

(more below the cut, or read the whole thing on A03)

The employee stared up at thefestive monstrosity. “Right, well, that’s an A-17, so they should be right thisway.”

He led them up through the aisle,dodging other shoppers, employees, and one display of solar lawn lights thathad fallen over. Phil paused to pick some of them up and put them back in thestack, where a half-dozen more promptly rolled off the pallet on the otherside. Fuck it, he decided, catching up with his boyfriend.

“Aw, nutcracker, no,” Clint waswhining. The slot on the shelf where the boxes were supposed to be was empty.

“Hang on, hang on,” the employeesaid. He whipped out a phone wrapped in a ridiculously orange case, did a scanof the SPU code. “It says we have six, hang on, just a moment. Stay here.” Hepointed to a spot on the floor like he was afraid that Clint and Phil wouldwander off.

Clint stood right where the guypointed, admiring some of the other decorations from his vantage point, whilePhil perused the shelves to see if one had gotten misplaced.

How, he wondered, did anyonemisplace six giant nutcrackers?

“This is Gerry,” their salespersonsaid, coming back up, “and she’s in charge of the garden center. So she’s goingto help you out, okay?”

Gerry was a tiny, tiny woman,probably in her mid-seventies, with a smudge of dirt on her nose and apractical tilt to her mouth. “You want that? You’re sure? Come on, this way, Ithink we got some more of these big’uns in the outdoor area.”

For a short, elderly woman, Gerrywalked very quickly. Hell, Clint and Phil were both trained government agents,and keeping up with her as she dodged around displays and talked a mile aminute over her shoulder, was taxing. In the few minutes it took to cross thestore, she’d told them all about two botched deliveries, the fact thatpointsettas were on sale, but she wouldn’t advise buying them because they werewithin three days of wilting, that they could apply for a store credit card andget twenty-percent off their first purchase, and if they wanted to, please feelfree to ask her, or any other store rep, and…

It was cold in the garden center;the whole area was open on the sides and the wind blew straight through,smelling of snow and exhaust and sausages from a street vendor outside thebuilding. Phil pulled his jacket tighter and shivered. It’d been hot in thestore proper.

“Well, they were here, I couldasworn…” She stopped in front of a large pallet of decorative boxes, none ofwhich was labeled as an A-17. “David! David!”

A third employee appeared – David,apparently – from behind a display. “Hey, did you find out about the 1063-RRcluster? I’ve been online with–”

“Not jus’ yet. Do you know whathappened to them nutcrackers we were s’posed to have? All the overstock shouldbe here?”

“Dunno,” David said. “We got a newdelivery in th’ back, though, truck just left outta here like twenty minutesago. I really need to know about them 1063s, though, so if you could–” he wastalking to air, Gerry having walked off, gesticulating wildly. “Huh. Okay,well, you all stay here, I bet she’s going to check the back.”

“She couldn’t have left us inside?”Phil complained. “It’s cold out here.”

Clint leaned against Phil’s back,arms around his chest, keeping him warm. “Better, babe?”

“You do give off a lot of bodyheat,” Phil replied. He leaned back into that warmth, snuggling contentedly.

“It’s my superpower,” Clint saidsmugly.

“I thought your superpower wasalways being in the way,” Phil said.

“Well, that, too,” Clint said. “Ican have more than one superpower. It’s allowed.”

Gerry was gone longer than expected– how hard was it to find a six foot tall nutcracker? Hard, apparently. Shecame back, shaking her head.

“The inventory says we have six,but see, there’s a little star by it,” Gerry said, holding out her phone. “Thatmeans it wasn’t actually verified on delivery. That happens a lot this time ofyear, really–”

“Excuse me, miss,” another customersaid, “this’ll only take a minute, but I was wondering if you knew where Imight find suction cups to hang on windows to hold lights up with?”

“Oh! I saw those!” Clint said,excited. “Like, just a few minutes ago, because I wondered what they were for,but yeah, this way, they’re over here.”

Phil found himself abandoned by hisboyfriend, and blinking politely at Gerry. “So, you don’t know where thenutcracker is?”

She shook her head. “It might noteven be here,” she said. “This time of year, we’re so busy that people don’talways check in the stock, we just take it on faith that we got what weordered.”

“So, my boyfriend really wants thatthing, do you think you could sell us your floor model?”

“Oh, no, no, we never do that, evenafter the holiday is over, people expect a discount on it, and it’s not listedin the inventory at all, so we can’t account for ‘em.”

“Since you’re missing six already,I’d say you’re not accounting for them now,” Phil pointed out.

“Look, what I can do is call ourstore out in Passaic, maybe they have one,” Gerry suggested. “Inventory saysthey have five.”

“You want me to drive all the wayout to New Jersey. On the weekend. During the Christmas season, onthe hopes that their inventory is better than yours?”

“I don’t want you to do anything,young man,” Gerry responded, tartly. “You’re the one who wants a nutcrackerporch deco. I’m telling you where there might be one.”

Phil heaved a sigh. “Give me theaddress.”

“Aw, decoration, no,” Clint whined.

Phil took a deep breath. “Can youcall the other store and see if they have any? Like, do an actual floor check?We already drove out from the city, and Westville’s not that much further downthe road, but I’d rather be sure than chase after another wild goose.”

“Inventory shows they got fourteenof ‘em,” the Passaic employee insisted.

“And yours says you’ve got five,and the store back in Manhattan said they had six, so that’s eleven six-footnutcrackers you’ve managed to misplace between two stores,” Phil said. “You cansee why I might be a little leery of your computer’s inventory report?”

The Passaic employee sighed likemaking a phone call was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked of him, ever,but punched in the number.

“We don’t gotta get it,” Clintsaid, softly. “We can just go home an–”

“You want it,” Phil said.

“Well, yeah, but–”

“Then we’re going to see if we canfind you one, dear,” Phil said, patting Clint’s hand. “It’s all right. Wedidn’t really have anything else to do today.”

“Driving around New Jersey isn’tsomethin’ any sane person does for fun,” Clint said.

Phil chuckled at that. “It’s notthat bad, really. I’ve been worse places.”

“Like?”

“Tahiti.”

Clint made a face. “That joke’sold, Phil. Like, seriously. Old. And it wasn’t funny t’ start with.”

“Okay,” the Passaic employee said. “Theydid a floor check, an’ they got at least four of them, so, what’s your name?”

“Coulson,” Phil said.

The guy turned back to his phone,then, “Yeah, okay, so when you get there, go up to the service counter, andthey’ll have one all ready to go, okay?”

“Thank you for your help,” Philsaid.

The employee didn’t quite roll hiseyes, but Phil got the distinct feeling that he wantedto.

“Can I shoot him?” Clint asked,when they got out of earshot.

“If we’re going to be exactingabout it, then yes, you’re perfectly capable of shooting him, with whateveryour weapon of choice is, from your bow all the way to the staple gun on aisletwelve, but I would greatly prefer it if you did not, because I really don’twant to deal with any more paperwork about your disruptions of normal holidaycommerce,” Phil said.

“You are no fun,” Clint said.

“That’s not what you said lastnight,” Phil pointed out.

“And it’s not what I’ll saytonight, either,” Clint said, sneaking in a stealth grope. “But you’re no fun right now.”

“You wanna swap tonight for rightnow, go ahead and shoot the guy.”

“Hmmm, no.”

“You did what?”

“Well, he was here first,” thewoman behind the customer-service desk said. “And he bought out the entirestock–”

“We were on our way,” Clint protested. “What did he need with twelve nutcrackers?”

“He was here,” she repeated. “Andwe don’t hold orders for people, that’s just not good business practice.”

Phil’s eyebrows went way up. “Howlong ago did he leave?”

The woman shrugged. “Do I look likea stalker to you?”

“No, you look like a bitch, but youknow, close enough,” Clint snapped. He smacked the palm of his hand against thedesk and stomped out.

“Thanks for shopping with us, comeagain.” the desk lady said, overly chipper.

Phil considered himself a reasonablehuman being, but Clint’s plan of shooting store employees suddenly seemed alittle less ridiculous and a lot more satisfying.

“Sorry we wasted th’ whole day,”Clint said, slumping up the sidewalk toward their house.

“It wasn’t a waste,” Phil said,grabbing Clint’s hand and giving his fingers a squeeze. “I like spending timewith you. Just because you don’t always get what you want doesn’t mean it was awaste of–” Phil stumbled to a halt.

“What the utter and complete fuck?”

“What he said,” Phil repeated.“Only with less swearing and more shock.”

The entire walkway was lined withnutcrackers. Six to each side, raising their swords in unison, mouths openingand closing.

“Hey, guys! Agent Agent, Legolas!Merry Christmas,” Tony Stark said, stepping out from behind one of thedisplays. “You like ‘em? I saw on social media that you were looking for themand–”

“You’re the one who bought out theentire stock?”

“Well, not me, personally, no,because really, no, I have shoppers for that sort of thing, but–” Tony’sbrilliant smile faltered. “You don’t like it?”

Clint and Phil exchanged a glanceand said everything they needed to say right then. They could explain to Tonyhow they’d driven all over the state trying to find the nutcracker and comehome disappointed and hungry and cranky…

Or they could just say, “We loveit. Thank you, Tony.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark,” Philsaid.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, AgentCoulson,” Tony said, offering a hand.

Phil took Tony’s hand, yanked himinto a hug, and pounded him on the back. “Thank you, really,” he said.

Clint hugged them both, squeezinghard. “Yeah, you’re the best, man, just… wow.”

“So, like, are these in the song?”Tony asked.

“What song?”

“The Twelve Days of Christmas?”

“Like, what? Twelve nutcrackersnutting?”

“Thanks for that, Clint,” Philsaid, covering his eyes. “Now I’m going to think about Christmas displaysjerking off for the entire rest of the season.”

“Annnnd on that note, I’m sure Ihave something more important to do,” Tony said. He jogged up the walk towardhis very expensive car. He turned halfway up the walk and waved. “MerryChristmas to all, and to all a good wank.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Twenty-third Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

First … Second … Third … Fourth … Fifth … Fifth Christmas, Part 2 … Sixth … Seventh … Eighth … Ninth … Tenth … Eleventh … Twelfth … Thirteenth ... Fourteenth ... Fifteenth ... Sixteenth ... Seventeenth ... Eighteenth ... Nineteenth ... Twentieth ... Twenty-first ... Twenty-second ... Twenty-third

Here’s the last one … 23 chapters later … no idea it woud turn into this … and am totally glad it did :)

Thanks everyody who reblogged, noted, commented and tagged … you are all gods in my world and I appreciate you from the bottom of my soul :)

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sitting quietly on the couch, fire crackling on the hearth, wind whistling in the eaves, Mulder put his head back, nestling in beside Scully’s as she read something or other with a pastel cover and a beach scene and a faceless woman wearing a floppy hat, “hey, Scully?”

Patiently, she put her finger in her book to hold her spot, “yeah?”

“I want to decorate the hell out of this place.”

She couldn’t fight the smile that burst forth, “only you would use hell to describe Christmas.”

“Come on. I think Maggie would like us to do it up right, our first Christmas back together and in her house to boot. We can intermingle her stuff and our stuff and I can go buy stuff for the front yard and porch.” Having sank his teeth into the idea, it was now exploding in his head, visions of inflatable things and blinking lights and evergreen garland, pointsettas and pinecones and cinnamon-smelling potpourri boiling on the stove, “I mean, it’ll be the stuff of Christmas dreams!”

“Okay, you had me with your overuse of the word ‘stuff’ but then you rolled out the emphatic Christmas dreams ending and moved it right on into over-saccharined insanity.”

Shifting sideways, he pulled his leg up, the ever present Flab jumping on his lap while Dagoo looked on, comfy from his blanket near the heat of the fireplace, “look, even Flab appreciates my saccharine enthusiasm. Look at her. She’d dying to have you say yes because she wants her own Grinch costume and Dagoo needs a Rudolph nose.”

“I think Dagoo wants you to be quiet so he can keep napping.”

He saw the moment he won and grinning, “we should go shopping.”

“Yes, we should.” Will’s voice drifted down the stairs where he’d been listening rapturously, with both mind and ear, feeling his father’s win and his mother’s amusement. Coming down further and poking his head past the wall, “right now. The Uncles will love it when they come over for Christmas.”

“That’s right, Scully. We’re gonna have like 20 people here for two days. We owe it to them to make this completely Maggie Christmas worthy.”

Not about to deny Will or Mulder a damn thing ever in life, Scully stood up, holding her hand out to pull him with her then gesturing towards the fire, “put that out so we don’t burn the house down and we’ll go buy out the Christmas sections of everywhere.”

Will hooted, racing back upstairs for a sweatshirt, Mulder gave her a big, wet kiss on the cheek and did as told while Scully just giggled in happy glee.

&&&&&&&&&&&

When the Gunmen had shown up with Will on that bridge, the world didn’t end but began anew, saving Mulder, getting everyone back to the hospital, aiming a homemade and completely genius EMP handheld device at the hovering ship, sending it and its government fuckers as Frohike called them, away for long enough to get the gang safely away in the boat parked just below the bridge.

She’d saved the world but more importantly, she’d saved Mulder with the help of Will’s blood and her ability to completely compartmentalize the fact that her friends were alive and had been hiding her son from her for the past 16 years. Science kicked in, she brought human beings back from the brink of extinction and when it was all over, she screamed at the Gunmen for three minutes apiece then broke down, crying with her equally emotional son in her arms.

Eventually, over the course of the following three days, while the world was vaccinated, her and Mulder learned the story of the past decade and a half of the Gunmen and Will in abstentia. In the silence that hung around them when Frohike finished, Scully breathed out the largest sigh of relief in her entire, God-damned life and looked at her boy, “will you come home with me and be our son again … if you can ever forgive me?”

More crying ensued and an hour or three later, Will moved into the Unremarkable guest room, which was neither a guest room nor unremarkable anymore, given it had proudly been a resting spot for Maggie and would now be the home of her grandson. Within a few weeks, an agreement was floated between the six of them, Scully, Mulder and William moving into Maggie’s home while the Gunmen took over the farmhouse, the basement perfect for computer equipment, enough room for the three of them and the solitude to which they’d become accustom.

They came over three times a week for dinner to see their nephew.

&&&&&&&&&&

Shopping had never been so much fun. Both Mulder and Will had carts, racing down aisles in the local Wal-mart, doing their best not to steer into rows and nearly failing with regularity and hilarity combined. They called back and forth over tall things because, as Mulder put it, Scully was a short thing and needed to be kept track of. They debated icicle lights or fat LEDs for the front porch. They held up garish stockings and neon pink garland and giggled in unison at the metallic orange Christmas tree on display.

They ended up spending nearly all of Scully’s paycheck and she couldn’t have cared in the slightest.

Once back in the car, they stopped for Frosties, eating them while shivering their way home before finally pulling in the driveway and unloading Scully’s filled to the brim SUV. In typical teenage boy fashion, Will informed them that since he was out of school for Christmas break and had absolutely no reason to get up early in the morning, he would like to start the decorating now.

Mulder couldn’t think of one reason to argue and Scully gave them an approving smile, “why don’t you two start and I’ll go make the hot chocolate.”

&&&&&&&&&

It took until the next evening to finish, sleep finally taking the three of them down around two a.m. and lasting until noon. By that night, however, the only thing left were the Christmas trees, standing bare on either side of the fireplace, Maggie’s on the left and theirs on the right. William sat between them, boxes of ornament surrounding his crossed legs, lids off, treasures waiting patiently to be hung. “So, Scullly, would it be better to mix all the ornaments or would you like to keep them separate? Maggie’s on Maggie’s and ours on ours?”

She couldn’t give him a definite answer through the tears suddenly streaming down her cheeks.

Mulder’s heart cracked and with his own eyes damp, he pulled her into a hug, “I think we should mix ‘em all up. I have a feeling Maggie’d like it that way; she’d know that we’re really back together for good this time because, I mean, nothing says steadfast togetherness like mixing the mother-in-law’s holiday decorations in with our own.”

Scully laughed against his shirt, wiggling one arm from her hold on him to ruffle through their son’s hair, “what do you think, Will? Mix or separate?”

“Already mixing, mom, so the question is moot.” He had his own small box on his lap from which he was pulling homemade things, a popsicle-sticky, glittery, shiny, gluey, messy, intricate, woven, carved assortment of historically significant baubles he’d made with the Gunmen over the years. He lay them out on the rug, “we should keep taking one from each pile, nine ornaments each, put them on one tree then do the same for the other. We’ll have an even distribution that way or at least as even as we’ll be able to get given I don’t know your ornament count but we’ll make do.” The silence that hung above him made him look up to see his father shaking his head in befuddlement and his mother about to burst into laughter, “what?”

Mulder nudged Scully with his elbow, “he is totally your kid.”

Pointing to one of Will’s ornaments, “he made a green sequin alien head. He’s both of ours.”

Will held the alien head up to Mulder, “I sure am.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

It took most of the evening to hang 78 years worth of bulbs and memories, backstories being told for most, Will curious and open, questioning, commenting, loving the fact that he had a history, that he had a family with a history, that he was a part of that history. It was only when they’d finished that Scully suddenly realized, “if these are the things you made with your Uncles, what are they putting up on their Christmas tree?”

Will grinned, “I was confined to a building with them for 15 years, I made so many things that they’ll never miss what I took and besides, they wanted to give me more to bring home but I knew they wanted to keep a lot of it so believe me when I say, these aren’t even the tip of the iceberg … but I need to crash now so g’night and I’ll see you in the morning.” Giving both of them the long hugs they all needed all the time lately, he disappeared upstairs, leaving his parents to their standing and hugging and enjoying and occasional quick kissing.

Before anything got out of hand, Mulder pulled away from her, “I’ve got a gift for you.”

Because after several decades she was sure she knew what it was, she sat down, ready and waiting, grin on and hand out. Seeing her once he came back in the room, he chuckled, “no more surprising you is there?”

“Nope.” Waving her fingers in a hand it to me motion, “gimme.”

Laughing louder now, he sat down beside her, “it’s actually a two-fold gift. Here’s number one.” Opening the plain box, she found, resting quietly on the bed of cotton, the quarter necklace she had found in her mother’s possessions at the hospital, chain gone, Christmas hook attached. Before she could utter more than a small, confused, “Mul-,” he stopped her with a hand to the knee, “I know what that quarter is.”

She’d been wondering since the moment she found it, in the items envelope at her mother’s bedside, “how?”

“I gave it to her. Well, actually, she gave it to me. Back then, it was just a quarter from her purse but she gave it to me the night I met her, the night you were abducted by Barry. I was standing there, lost and confused and angry and scared out of my mind and I had to go do something, anything, just … find you. She’d watched me throw my cellphone at the wall at one point, frustrated as hell that no one was doing anything immediately, all talking and thinking instead of finding. Once I’d decided I needed to do something myself, she stopped me and gave me a quarter and told me to call her if I heard anything, regardless of time or information.” Stopping for a deep breath, he continued in a whisper, “I didn’t find anything out to call and tell her but I kept the quarter in my pocket anyway, holding it and hoping I’d need to use it soon. Eventually I got … we got you back but I kept the quarter anyways. I saw it as kind of my good luck charm at that point but then Maggie yelled at me and put me in my place for running with you so I had the quarter made into a necklace and I gave it back to her, telling her she’d never need a quarter to call me because we’d never be that far away again.”

Scully had been turning it over and over in her fingers, holding, spinning, twirling absently while she listened. When Mulder fell silent, she looked up at him, confusion still evident, “why didn’t you tell me when I found it or years ago, really?”

“Don’t be mad but it was a Maggie and me thing. It was ours. Our link. Our … connection to each other that was just ours. I never really had anything like that with my mother and …” now going sheepish on her, ducking his head, “I didn’t want to share it in case we went our separate ways. I didn’t want you to think of anything of your mom’s with a bad taste. I guess I figured a mystery was better than anger.”

Completely appreciating the logic, she first kissed his cheek, then kissed the quarter, dangling it in front of them, smiling through her ever-present tears, “I love it and the story and regardless of what may happen in the future, I’ve always loved you and always will so you don’t have to worry about that. I do however, wonder why you’re telling me now.”

“Because that was my last secret from you forever. I wanted everything out there when you got your second gift.” Reaching under the couch, he slid out a larger box, perfect size for a round bulb, “Merry Christmas part two.”

With that quizzical eyebrow he so very much loved to the ends of the Earth, he watched her open the box to a clear ornament, a piece of parchment paper rolled inside it, a handful of iridescent confetti heaped underneath it. Carefully unscrewing the sphere, she withdrew the paper, unrolling it carefully, reading intently then shaking her head in wonder, reading a second time just to be sure.

Once she looked up at him, eyes filled with twinkling amazement, he tossed the confetti in the air, covering them both, “so, will you be there?”

Her affirmative answer came in the form of her climbing eagerly onto his lap, straddling him, hugging him tightly as she whispered her, “I could never be anywhere else,” as she clutched her wedding invitation in her hand, the date printed as December 26, the time 2pm, the place being their front room.

“Gonna change your name? Let me make an honest Mulder out of you?”

As she kissed him once more behind the ear before shifting sideways, sliding down next to him, legs still akimbo around his thighs, “I was thinking more about Fox Scully. What do you say?”

Before he could answer, Will’s voice called down to them, in that uncanny way he had with timing, “I’m best man, right?”

Scully buried her head in his neck while he called back up to his son, “of course but you may have to battle it out with Frohike.”

“Naw, we’ll just tell him he’s Gunmen of Honor. He can be on mom’s side.”

“G’night, Will.”

“Night, Mom.”

Turning her attention back to her finally, very near future husband, “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Mulder.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Scully.”