asphaltcowgrrl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2014-12-12 03:21 pm
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2014-12-12 03:21 pm
Entry tags:
Advent Day 12 (White Pine Original Fic)
Title: Advent Day 12
Fandom: White Pine Original Fic
Pairing: Travis Murphy/Ethan McDowell
Rating: PG
Word Count: 946
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: I’m channeling my husband for Travis in this scene. I buy his presents and keep them at the office, it’s the ONLY way he’s ever surprised. Jerk.
Day 12
It had to be in the house somewhere. Ethan wasn’t slick enough to hide something outside of the house, he was certain of that. So, he kept digging. He’d already moved all the books on both bookshelves, dumped and refolded all the clothes in the dresser, and searched through the pantry.
What did that leave? Right.
Travis was on his way into the garage when he was stopped by the ringing of the phone. Grunting, he snatched it off the kitchen table. “What?”
“Is that how you answer the phone, Murph? What if it was your mother?” Ethan’s teasing tone took the edge off his ill humor but only just.
“If it was my mother, calling at this hour, I don’t think she’d have noticed my rudeness because something much worse would be happening.”
“True,” he conceded. “So, what’s has your undies in a twist this morning?”
He could hear paper rustling in the background and figured Ethan must be eating his dinner. At the thought, his stomach rumbled and he glanced at his watch. Two thirty, it read, and he realized he’d been tearing the house apart for a good hour and forty minutes. “Uh, nothing,” he lied. Damn detectives anyway. “Just trying to finish this book before my publisher puts a price on my head is all.”
“You’ve been writing then?”
He shuffled a bit and walked into the kitchen. Pulling open a drawer, he said, “Yeah. Making some progress, too.” What a load of malarkey that was. He hadn’t written a word all night, not since that niggling idea had taken root in his dumb brain.
“Good, glad to hear it,” Ethan said. More shifting occurred on the other end of the phone, followed by a crumpling noise. “So, you’ll be done when I get home?”
Fuck no. “Uh, well, I should be close.”
“Awesome,” Ethan congratulated him. “Thank you for dinner, by the way. You didn’t have to give me the last of your mother’s famous enchiladas.”
“You deserve it,” he said, both meaning it and using his compliment as a way of buttering his lover up. “You work hard and you put up with me. It was the least I could do.”
Ethan chuckled, the sound tinkling against his ears, making him wish he was so much closer. “Yeah, for putting up with you, day in and day out, I deserve a couple dozen enchiladas. And a pile of flautas on the side.”
“Now you’re just pushing you’re luck,” Travis chided. He’d exhausted all the drawers in the kitchen and had started on the cabinets. So far, he’d come up empty.
“You know I’d not have you any other way.”
Travis smiled. It was true. For better or for worse, they took each other at face value. “Right back atcha babe.”
“Thanks,” he said, warmth enfolding every word. “Now, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” he agreed, only paying half attention to what was being said. “What do you need?”
“I need for you to stop tearing the house apart looking for your Christmas gift.”
“What?” He closed the cabinet door and straightened to his full height. “I’m not looking for my Christmas gift.”
More laughter greeted his ears. “No? Then why do I keep hearing cabinets closing while you’re talking to me? I know you’re not cooking.”
Damnit. He’d thought he’d been quieter than that. “Okay, fine. I’m guilty. Now, tell me where it is so we can end this charade.”
“I can’t tell you because I haven’t bought it yet.”
Frowning, Travis slumped against the kitchen counter. “You haven’t gotten me a present yet?” Not that he should talk, he hadn’t even thought about what to get Ethan at this point. “Christmas is in twelve days!”
“And your point is?”
Ethan loved to harass him when he could, and generally Travis had the wherewithal to ignore him. Or, more often than not, give back better than he got, but tonight, he was stymied. “I – I guess I have no point.”
“You’d better get back to your writing then, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Travis sighed, leaving the kitchen and heading for his office, feeling defeated. “I know, Ma.”
“I’ll be home in a few hours to check your progress,” he hinted.
Which meant he actually needed to get some damn words written. “See you at eight thirty, baby.” He smiled, listening to Ethan’s return wishes for a good night, still unable to comprehend that he’d been caught. With a sigh, he stared at his computer. “How has he not bought me a present yet?”
Ethan hung up the phone and shook his head. He had had a feeling Travis was up to no good, but he’d come to understand that was a normal state of affairs for the boy. He glanced at the box sitting on the edge of his desk, a sly grin creeping onto his face. It’s arrived this afternoon and Emma Mae had texted him, making him aware. She’d been right in suggesting he have it sent to the station, even gave him the perfect place to hide it where no one would find it - or care that it was stashed. Maybe this year he’d be able to actually surprise Murphy? Eh, time would tell on that one.
Picking up the notepad he kept on the desk, he jotted a quick thank you to Emma Mae and taking her up on the offer to wrap it for him. He wasn’t about to turn that one down.
It didn’t happen very often, but every now and then, he managed to get the drop on Travis Murphy. And victory never tasted so sweet.
End note: Wen to LJ to post this and got sidetracked by a trailer for Insurgent, coming in March. And now I’m thinking Theo James might make a good ‘model’ for Ethan. Theo James x Paul Rudd. I like it.
Fandom: White Pine Original Fic
Pairing: Travis Murphy/Ethan McDowell
Rating: PG
Word Count: 946
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: I’m channeling my husband for Travis in this scene. I buy his presents and keep them at the office, it’s the ONLY way he’s ever surprised. Jerk.
Day 12
It had to be in the house somewhere. Ethan wasn’t slick enough to hide something outside of the house, he was certain of that. So, he kept digging. He’d already moved all the books on both bookshelves, dumped and refolded all the clothes in the dresser, and searched through the pantry.
What did that leave? Right.
Travis was on his way into the garage when he was stopped by the ringing of the phone. Grunting, he snatched it off the kitchen table. “What?”
“Is that how you answer the phone, Murph? What if it was your mother?” Ethan’s teasing tone took the edge off his ill humor but only just.
“If it was my mother, calling at this hour, I don’t think she’d have noticed my rudeness because something much worse would be happening.”
“True,” he conceded. “So, what’s has your undies in a twist this morning?”
He could hear paper rustling in the background and figured Ethan must be eating his dinner. At the thought, his stomach rumbled and he glanced at his watch. Two thirty, it read, and he realized he’d been tearing the house apart for a good hour and forty minutes. “Uh, nothing,” he lied. Damn detectives anyway. “Just trying to finish this book before my publisher puts a price on my head is all.”
“You’ve been writing then?”
He shuffled a bit and walked into the kitchen. Pulling open a drawer, he said, “Yeah. Making some progress, too.” What a load of malarkey that was. He hadn’t written a word all night, not since that niggling idea had taken root in his dumb brain.
“Good, glad to hear it,” Ethan said. More shifting occurred on the other end of the phone, followed by a crumpling noise. “So, you’ll be done when I get home?”
Fuck no. “Uh, well, I should be close.”
“Awesome,” Ethan congratulated him. “Thank you for dinner, by the way. You didn’t have to give me the last of your mother’s famous enchiladas.”
“You deserve it,” he said, both meaning it and using his compliment as a way of buttering his lover up. “You work hard and you put up with me. It was the least I could do.”
Ethan chuckled, the sound tinkling against his ears, making him wish he was so much closer. “Yeah, for putting up with you, day in and day out, I deserve a couple dozen enchiladas. And a pile of flautas on the side.”
“Now you’re just pushing you’re luck,” Travis chided. He’d exhausted all the drawers in the kitchen and had started on the cabinets. So far, he’d come up empty.
“You know I’d not have you any other way.”
Travis smiled. It was true. For better or for worse, they took each other at face value. “Right back atcha babe.”
“Thanks,” he said, warmth enfolding every word. “Now, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” he agreed, only paying half attention to what was being said. “What do you need?”
“I need for you to stop tearing the house apart looking for your Christmas gift.”
“What?” He closed the cabinet door and straightened to his full height. “I’m not looking for my Christmas gift.”
More laughter greeted his ears. “No? Then why do I keep hearing cabinets closing while you’re talking to me? I know you’re not cooking.”
Damnit. He’d thought he’d been quieter than that. “Okay, fine. I’m guilty. Now, tell me where it is so we can end this charade.”
“I can’t tell you because I haven’t bought it yet.”
Frowning, Travis slumped against the kitchen counter. “You haven’t gotten me a present yet?” Not that he should talk, he hadn’t even thought about what to get Ethan at this point. “Christmas is in twelve days!”
“And your point is?”
Ethan loved to harass him when he could, and generally Travis had the wherewithal to ignore him. Or, more often than not, give back better than he got, but tonight, he was stymied. “I – I guess I have no point.”
“You’d better get back to your writing then, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Travis sighed, leaving the kitchen and heading for his office, feeling defeated. “I know, Ma.”
“I’ll be home in a few hours to check your progress,” he hinted.
Which meant he actually needed to get some damn words written. “See you at eight thirty, baby.” He smiled, listening to Ethan’s return wishes for a good night, still unable to comprehend that he’d been caught. With a sigh, he stared at his computer. “How has he not bought me a present yet?”
Ethan hung up the phone and shook his head. He had had a feeling Travis was up to no good, but he’d come to understand that was a normal state of affairs for the boy. He glanced at the box sitting on the edge of his desk, a sly grin creeping onto his face. It’s arrived this afternoon and Emma Mae had texted him, making him aware. She’d been right in suggesting he have it sent to the station, even gave him the perfect place to hide it where no one would find it - or care that it was stashed. Maybe this year he’d be able to actually surprise Murphy? Eh, time would tell on that one.
Picking up the notepad he kept on the desk, he jotted a quick thank you to Emma Mae and taking her up on the offer to wrap it for him. He wasn’t about to turn that one down.
It didn’t happen very often, but every now and then, he managed to get the drop on Travis Murphy. And victory never tasted so sweet.
End note: Wen to LJ to post this and got sidetracked by a trailer for Insurgent, coming in March. And now I’m thinking Theo James might make a good ‘model’ for Ethan. Theo James x Paul Rudd. I like it.