Advent Day 8 (White Pine Original Fic)
Dec. 8th, 2014 03:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Advent Day 8
Fandom: White Pine Original Fic
Pairing: Travis Murphy/Ethan McDowell
Rating: PG-13, for a bit of suggestive talk and potty mouth-ed-ness
Word Count: 824
Summary: A Christmas/New Year’s fic to help bump up the word count for 1_million_words. Wherein Travis and Ethan muddle their way through December and try to stay on Santa’s Nice List.
Author’s Note: A bit of role reversal for the boys. And also: this devolved really quickly. I’m sorry, I’m not sorry.
Day 8
It went without saying that you do some crazy things for love. Generally, it also went without prompting that Ethan loved Travis terribly, passionately, and fully. Today, however, he was in desperate need of reminding exactly why he’d come back to White Pine to be with this pain in the ass.
Taking a deep breath, Ethan told himself that it was Christmastime and that things got hectic around the holidays. Not to mention that roles shifted and new ah… events… tended to spring up.
He turned the mini offset spatula over in his hands. It was approximately one third the size of the one that lay, unused, in the silverware drawer. Tiny, yet intimidating considering he was supposed to be frosting sugar cookies with it.
“Is there a reason why I can’t just eat them and pretend we never made them?” A glob of turquoise frosting fell from the spatula and landed on the wooden table, just to the side of the waxed paper covering Ethan’s workspace.
Frowning, Travis waved a hand at him. “You’re dropping frosting all over my antique table!”
“Sorry.” Dragging a finger through the mound of silky sweetness, Ethan licked the icing from his finger, giving himself a slight bluish tinge to his lower lip.
Travis gave a frustrated eye roll and stomped over to the table. “First of all, we did not make these cookies. I made these cookies. Mixed, rolled, cut, and baked. The least you can do for me – for mi mamá – is help fucking frost them!”
Tongue extracting the last remnants of sugar from his mouth, Ethan rethought his position. The holidays always made Murphy a touch crazy, but this was beyond, even considering the source. Why he thought he could help his mother bake her usual plethora of goodies, he had no idea. Ethan had even less of a clue as to why he had to help. Well, other than the fact that Aracely Murphy would have his ass in a sling if she found out he hadn’t. “Of all the cookies you mother makes, why did you have to choose the most labor intensive of the bunch? Why not stick with chocolate chip or even the oatmeal scotchies?”
“Because,” Travis growled, the baking having finally gotten the better of him, “they’re my favorite.”
Without breaking eye contact, Ethan lifted a half-frosted Santa cookie to his mouth. He blew Travis a kiss before biting the head off, crumbs and icing clinging to his lips and chin. “Mine too, imagine that.”
“You are such a raving lunatic,” Travis spat.
Ethan knew he was at his limit, however. It went against his nature to stay angry for long and he was just about to crack. “It’s living with an Irishman that’s done it to me. The Scots inside is ready to stage a revolt.”
And there it was. Murphy threw his hands up in defeat, laughter bubbling out of him. “I really, really hate you right now, you jerk.”
“No you don’t,” Ethan said, quoting something that generally came out of Travis’ mouth and not his own. “You love me which is why you didn’t shoot me for chewing off Santa’s head.”
Mischief sparked in those bottomless blue eyes. “You gave Santa head? You kinky son of a bitch.”
Bits of cookie flew from his lips, the coughing laughter spewing them before he could swallow. “And you think I’m the lunatic?” He shook his head. “Wait, you still have those boxers?”
Murphy’s eyebrow went up. “Which ones?”
“The ones I gave you as a gag gift last Christmas.” He raised both of his own brows in suggestion.
“Oh, those,” Travis chuckled, a sound both naughty and nice. ‘Yeah.”
Ethan could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but he pushed forward all the same. Besides, this was Travis – the man he was planning on marrying… eventually – what did he have to be embarrassed about? “You go put those on, Santa, and I’ll show you just how freaky one little boy can be.”
Travis pulled the oven mitt decorated to look like a great white shark off his hand. Slapping it against the counter, he smirked. “And you can go wait for your present under the tree… although I’m not sure if Santa has anything in his bag for such a wicked child.”
“Oh, I bet Santa can figure something out,” Ethan teased, slapping Travis on the ass as he passed by.
He sat in his chair for a moment, finishing the cookie off after adding a large dollop of frosting to the top. Ethan had a feeling he was going to need the energy to properly open his present. Getting up, he checked to make sure the stove was off and seated himself under the tree in the living room. A muffled ho ho ho reached his ears and made him grin.
There were so many things to be merry about this time of year.
xx
Author's End Note: Now, I'm craving sugar cookies. *evil grin*
Fandom: White Pine Original Fic
Pairing: Travis Murphy/Ethan McDowell
Rating: PG-13, for a bit of suggestive talk and potty mouth-ed-ness
Word Count: 824
Summary: A Christmas/New Year’s fic to help bump up the word count for 1_million_words. Wherein Travis and Ethan muddle their way through December and try to stay on Santa’s Nice List.
Author’s Note: A bit of role reversal for the boys. And also: this devolved really quickly. I’m sorry, I’m not sorry.
Day 8
It went without saying that you do some crazy things for love. Generally, it also went without prompting that Ethan loved Travis terribly, passionately, and fully. Today, however, he was in desperate need of reminding exactly why he’d come back to White Pine to be with this pain in the ass.
Taking a deep breath, Ethan told himself that it was Christmastime and that things got hectic around the holidays. Not to mention that roles shifted and new ah… events… tended to spring up.
He turned the mini offset spatula over in his hands. It was approximately one third the size of the one that lay, unused, in the silverware drawer. Tiny, yet intimidating considering he was supposed to be frosting sugar cookies with it.
“Is there a reason why I can’t just eat them and pretend we never made them?” A glob of turquoise frosting fell from the spatula and landed on the wooden table, just to the side of the waxed paper covering Ethan’s workspace.
Frowning, Travis waved a hand at him. “You’re dropping frosting all over my antique table!”
“Sorry.” Dragging a finger through the mound of silky sweetness, Ethan licked the icing from his finger, giving himself a slight bluish tinge to his lower lip.
Travis gave a frustrated eye roll and stomped over to the table. “First of all, we did not make these cookies. I made these cookies. Mixed, rolled, cut, and baked. The least you can do for me – for mi mamá – is help fucking frost them!”
Tongue extracting the last remnants of sugar from his mouth, Ethan rethought his position. The holidays always made Murphy a touch crazy, but this was beyond, even considering the source. Why he thought he could help his mother bake her usual plethora of goodies, he had no idea. Ethan had even less of a clue as to why he had to help. Well, other than the fact that Aracely Murphy would have his ass in a sling if she found out he hadn’t. “Of all the cookies you mother makes, why did you have to choose the most labor intensive of the bunch? Why not stick with chocolate chip or even the oatmeal scotchies?”
“Because,” Travis growled, the baking having finally gotten the better of him, “they’re my favorite.”
Without breaking eye contact, Ethan lifted a half-frosted Santa cookie to his mouth. He blew Travis a kiss before biting the head off, crumbs and icing clinging to his lips and chin. “Mine too, imagine that.”
“You are such a raving lunatic,” Travis spat.
Ethan knew he was at his limit, however. It went against his nature to stay angry for long and he was just about to crack. “It’s living with an Irishman that’s done it to me. The Scots inside is ready to stage a revolt.”
And there it was. Murphy threw his hands up in defeat, laughter bubbling out of him. “I really, really hate you right now, you jerk.”
“No you don’t,” Ethan said, quoting something that generally came out of Travis’ mouth and not his own. “You love me which is why you didn’t shoot me for chewing off Santa’s head.”
Mischief sparked in those bottomless blue eyes. “You gave Santa head? You kinky son of a bitch.”
Bits of cookie flew from his lips, the coughing laughter spewing them before he could swallow. “And you think I’m the lunatic?” He shook his head. “Wait, you still have those boxers?”
Murphy’s eyebrow went up. “Which ones?”
“The ones I gave you as a gag gift last Christmas.” He raised both of his own brows in suggestion.
“Oh, those,” Travis chuckled, a sound both naughty and nice. ‘Yeah.”
Ethan could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but he pushed forward all the same. Besides, this was Travis – the man he was planning on marrying… eventually – what did he have to be embarrassed about? “You go put those on, Santa, and I’ll show you just how freaky one little boy can be.”
Travis pulled the oven mitt decorated to look like a great white shark off his hand. Slapping it against the counter, he smirked. “And you can go wait for your present under the tree… although I’m not sure if Santa has anything in his bag for such a wicked child.”
“Oh, I bet Santa can figure something out,” Ethan teased, slapping Travis on the ass as he passed by.
He sat in his chair for a moment, finishing the cookie off after adding a large dollop of frosting to the top. Ethan had a feeling he was going to need the energy to properly open his present. Getting up, he checked to make sure the stove was off and seated himself under the tree in the living room. A muffled ho ho ho reached his ears and made him grin.
There were so many things to be merry about this time of year.
xx
Author's End Note: Now, I'm craving sugar cookies. *evil grin*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-12-10 10:58 pm (UTC)Why do I now think you have an oven mitt shaped like a shark? I won't even mention the boxers - hah - but nice little details.
I'm going to break down and do some baking this weekend.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-11 09:19 pm (UTC)Wait, why on earth would I have something as silly as a shark oven mitt?
Hmm... okay. Never mind. :) (And FYI: I've had this poor guy for about 12 years now)
Yay! Have fun. I love baking.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-12 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-12 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-12 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-17 11:57 pm (UTC)