Mongeese Christmas Drabbles by Scribe, akablonded, and Patt
Bulbs and Blinking Lights By Scribe
"Jim, exactly how old IS this string of Christmas lights?"
"Um," replied Jim. "I'm not entirely sure. We got it when I was a kid. I THINK it was in...'68 or '69."
"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THESE MAY BE OVER THIRTY YEARS OLD?"
"Sandburg, must I remind you that I'm a Sentinel and you DON'T NEED TO SHOUT?"
"I'm sorry, but damn, Jim."
"There's such a thing as tradition."
"Jim, these things are edging past traditional into antiquity. Besides, they don't even work."
"Yes, they do."
"Do not. You just plugged them in, and nothing."
"That's because there's a dead bulb in here somewhere. Once I replace it they'll work fine."
"Oh, give it up and just buy a new string. I bet they don't even make those sort of bulbs anymore."
"Won't make any difference." Jim rummaged in the closet and pulled out a box. He opened it and showed it to Blair. It was filled to the brim with multi-colored bulbs. "Dad bought these when he bought the original string. I'm not the first Ellison male to plan for every eventuality." Jim sat down with the string of lights across his lap and the box of bulbs beside him. He unscrewed the first bulb, then screwed in one from the box. That didn't work, so he went on to the second one, and the third, and the fourth... He went all the way down the string, and still they remained dark. "Well, crap."
"Told you. They have the little twinkly kind on sale."
"Maybe this bulb is dead. I'll try a green one." Jim went back to the beginning of the string, unscrewed the first bulb, and screwed in the green one. The entire string of bulbs lit up, glowing red, blue, green, and yellow in cheerful profusion. "Ha! I told you..." The lights went dead. "Well, crap. I thought..." The lights came on. "Wait a..." The lights went off. "Holy..." The lights came on.
"Well," said Blair. "We got blinking lights after all. Why are you unplugging them?"
"Because they're not supposed to do that, and I'm not risking some freaky short starting a fire. Get your coat and we'll go pick up those sissy twinkle lights you like."
Christmas By Scribe
"Jim," said Blair. "You've been shaking your head ever since we came out of that drug store. What gives?"
"The commercialism is just making me sick, Chief," said Jim. "The way that American business has turned Christmas into a selling opportunity. I mean, I can understand that for some industries it can make or break their yearly profits, but there has to be some limits."
"What brought this on? We're not anywhere near Christmas. It isn't even Halloween yet."
"I know. I went down the candy aisle and found chocolate Santas and candy canes next to the candy corn and Mellocreme pumpkins."
Jim continued to grumble, and Blair patted him on the shoulder, offering sympathy and support. He figured that he probably shouldn't tell Jim about the display of Valentine candy he'd found on the other side of the store.
New Years By Scribe
Blair consulted a list. "Okay, I've almost got my list of New Years resolutions done." He sat next to Jim. "Here we go. I will visit the gym with you at least once a week."
"Are you going to do more than play pick-up basketball?"
"Shut up. Every other time I see you eating a Wonderburger I will refrain from carping at you about your diet." He gave Jim a stern look. "I'm not giving it up entirely. I'm going to defragment my hard drive at least once a week, and get a better grade of virus protection. I'm going to harrass Jim into becoming more computer literate. I'm not going to try to out drink Megan again."
"Anything in there about refraining from obfuscation?"
"I've resolved to cut down on it. Be realistic, Jim. If I try to stop entirely my blood pressure will go through the roof. Those are mine. What about yours?" Jim handed over his sheet of paper. "I will not strangle Sandburg. Hey!"
"I'm pretty sure I'll be able to keep that one, if I work at it."
"Don't think I'm not grateful, but that's only ONE. Can't you come up with at least one more?" Jim took the paper away and scribbled on it, then handed it back. Blair read. "I will screw Sandburg through the mattress on a regular basis." Blair stared at the paper, then cleared his throat. "Look, I know we still have a few hours till New Years, but..."
Wreath By Scribe
"Sandburg, what's in that box? It's about the right shape and size, but it's too thick for a pizza," said Jim.
"I bought us a holiday wreath," said Blair, setting it on the table.
"I hope you didn't buy anything garish, like tinsel and blinking lights. I have no problem with dignified holiday decorations, but I'm not inclined toward the showy."
"It IS a little flashy, but I think you'll like it."
"Blair..." Blair opened the box.
Jim saw red, green, white, and the shine of silver and gold. Then he looked closer. "I'll be damned."
"Nice, huh? Mrs. Logan is selling them for the Substitute Santa charity, so I bought us one."
"I like it a lot. How the heck did she get all those peppermint drops and Hershey Kisses to stick to the frame?"
Decorating by Akablonded
"Get up, Sandburg."
"Didn't I do that earlier?"
"What did you call me?"
"It wasn't one of Santa's reindeers. I need your help."
"You. Jim. Ellison. Need. My. Blair. Jacob. Sandburg's. Help. Alert the media."
"It's almost Christmas. And we have to decorate this mother of a tree you made me buy.
"Made you? What? Like I held my piece to your temple."
"Sandburg, that's just wrong--"
"My gun, my service revolver, you moron."
"Very nice. You should write Christmas cards. For orphans."
"Jesus, Jim. Is there coffee?"
"No. There's garland, strings of lights, ornaments and ..."
"Well, sure, Sandburg. Balls. Lots of them. Holiday ones."
"It's 6 AM. Couldn't it wait until, I don't know, until it's later, like 7?"
"Get that bucket butt up. You picked this monster, and said you'd help decorate it."
"It reminded me of you."
"Big, lush, hard ..."
"Leaking sap ..."
"Then we get to do the Hannukah bush. Royally."
"Don't get out of bed yet."
Carols By Scribe
It was quiet in the Bull Pen, everyone working industriously to get that last bits of paper work finished before Christmas. Blair shot Jim a questioning look. Jim nodded. Blair cleared his throat, then chirped, "Bra-dy."
Everyone looked at him, and he just smiled. They went back to work. A second later Jim sang, "King!"
This got him stares, but again no one commented. But when Blair warbled, 'Kane,' Megan said, "All right, Sandy. What gives?"
Behind her Jim sang a base, "Burnett!"
Blair stood up, singing, "O'Connel!"
Jim stood, too. "Channing."
Rafe suddenly sat up alertly. "Hey!" He snatched up the rubber 'tension relief' ball he kept on his desk and pegged it at Blair (who was closer). He missed. "Get them, get them!" (slam) Jim and Blair were both out the door. "Damn! Too late."
"Rafe," said H. "Why were you throwing things at Sandburg and Ellison?"
"They deserve it for one of the most horrendous puns in existence."
"You mean you didn't get it? H., they were singing carols!"
The chorus of groans was almost musical.
Stuffing by Scribe
"Man I am pooped," said Blair. "Jim, are you going to be able to get up the stairs by yourself safely? You drank a lot of that eggnog, and I know damn good and well that Rafe and Megan both spiked it when they thought we weren't looking."
"After WE spiked it right in front of them?"said Jim. "Damn. No wonder I'm plastered. But I won't have any problem. After all, I have hand rails."
"Great. Now, are you sober enough to change the bed linen? I'd really like fresh sheets--it's sort of top off the holiday?"
"I was in the army. Of course I can make a bed, even drunk."
"Yeah, well, don't worry about us being able to bounce a quarter. You go on upstairs and do that, and I'll do the last bit of clearing up down here."
Jim went upstairs and Blair finished stuffing styrofoam cups and paper plates in a trash bag, then stowed the last meager bits of food and eggnog in the refrigerator. He was feeling happy, but weary when he finally made his way upstairs. He stopped right at the top. There was a pile of rumpled sheets near his feet, so Jim had managed to strip the bed with no problem. The fitted sheet was on the mattress, but the top sheet and pillow cases were still folded. One of the pillows lay on top of them, and Jim was holding the other one--hugging it. "Jim, what the hell?"
Jim bounced and kneaded the pillow, and Blair realized that he was actually fluffing the pillow. "Suckers haven't been plumped up for ages. These are genuine goosedown, and they need to be fluffed occasionally."
"Okay, I remember how surprised I was when I found out that those weren't making your senses go nuts."
"I think it's the chemicals they use to cure the foam rubber."
"Aren't you through plumping that thing yet? I want to go to bed."
"This cannot be rushed," said Jim with drunken dignity. "If you want this to go more quickly you can fluff your own pillow."
"I'll live with it as is."
"Blair--you know me. Am I going to be able to sleep knowing that the pillows aren't equally fluffed?"
"Damn." He picked up his pillow and started fluffing it. "Happy?"
The pillow caught Blair right in the face. "Why you--!" He swung his own pillow. Jim ducked and swung again. Blair dodged and this time his shoulder caught the brunt of the blow. "Oh, you're ASKING for it."
"Not yet." Jim turned, poked out his ass, and wiggled it. "NOW I'm asking for it."
Ten minutes later the pillow stuffing was sifting lazily over the edge of the bedroom floor, down into the living room. Anyone standing in the kitchen would have thought it was snowing. A half hour later Jim and Blair were sleeping the peaceful sleep of the sexually exhausted, covered by an untucked top sheet, and a liberal dusting of goose down pillow stuffing.
Turkey By Scribe
"Jim," said Simon. "How the hell did we end up with a live Turkey in the Bull Pen?"
"You ain't getting out of it that easy."
Jim sighed. "You tell him, Sandburg. It was your idea."
"Okay," said Blair. "First of all, this is temporary."
"I should damn well hope so," growled Simon.
"It started when we rescued that girl who'd been taken hostage during that bank robbery right after Thanksgiving."
"What's that got to do...? No, I'm not asking questions, or this will never end. Go on."
"Well, it seems that she was the daughter of Clancy Clutterbuck."
"Wait--Clancy 'Cluck-Cluck' Clutterbuck, the Poultry King?"
"Second only to Colonel Sanders in the decimation of fowls. Anyway, he wanted to say thank you to Jim, so he sent us Tom. Seems that they're going to be introducing a fried turkey breast sandwich, and they have thousands of turkeys that will be displayed at their outlets for the promotion. He sent us this one for our Christmas dinner."
"You boys aren't supposed to accept gifts from citizens, and that beast must be worth a pretty good amount," said Simon. "You should have turned it down."
"If we did they'd have just sent him somewhere else and he'd have ended up stuffed with cornbread and covered in giblet gravy. I couldn't do that to him, not after I looked into those big, sad eyes."
"Big? Blair, a turkey's eyes aren't any bigger than..."
"I'm speaking metaphorically, okay? Anyway, I thought we could donate him to a worthy cause."
"What are you going to do--give him to a soup kitchen?"
"No, he'd still end up being digested if we did that. However there IS the free Children's Petting Pen at the Cascade Zoo..."
Snow Blower By Patt
Jim Ellison shoveled the heaping snow that lay before him on the sidewalks and driveway of Prospect. Why was he the one out doing the shoveling? Because Blair had promised to give him a blow job every night for a week, if he went and shoveled all of the snow for the neighbors. Blair called himself a snow blower and laughed, but Jim took him up on it.
After three hours of shoveling snow, Jim wasn’t quite sure it was worth any number of blow jobs until he began to think about Blair’s lips around him and he warmed right up and got his second wind.
Yup, Blair was worth any amount of shoveling snow. And if you don’t believe it, just ask Jim Ellison.
Christmas Tree By Patt
“Chief, what is this in the corner of the living room?” Jim asked trying not to laugh.
“It’s an artificial tree so we don’t have to cut down one this year. I know it doesn’t look as good, but we’re going to make up for it.” Blair explained.
“How?” The larger man wondered aloud.
“We’re going to play our favorite Christmas music, eat our favorite Christmas desserts and decorate this tree until you can’t see hardly anything but the decorations. It’s going to be great.”
“Is this something you feel strongly about, Chief?”
“Then let’s get started. I’ll get the music going; you get the dessert and the decorations.”
Jim found that doing anything with Blair was fun as long as you got to spend time with him.
Ham? By Patt
“What do you mean you want to have ham for Christmas? That’s Un-American. Everyone knows you eat turkey on Christmas and that’s all there is to it.”
“Chief, I don’t think it really matters.”
“It does to me. I don’t eat ham.”
“You ate a ham and cheese sandwich last week during the game, do you remember that?”
“Okay, fine… I eat ham, but not for Christmas. I was really looking forward to turkey. Please?”
“Has anyone mentioned that you’re a brat, Sandburg? You always have to have things your way.”
“Are we going to have turkey on Christmas day?”
“Of course. You’re a brat and always get your way.”
“All right. That’s the way I like it…”
Why Jim Loves Christmas By Patt
“Oh just like that, Jim, that’s perfect. I’m so close, I’m going to come.”
“I love when you talk about stuffing and I get to stuff you.”
“Way to ruin a mood.”
“You’re the one that asked me if I wanted to stuff you.”
“Yeah, but that was an hour ago, I forgot. Now are you going to get back to this or are we going to go and start the real stuffing?”
“Chief, this is the real stuffing, you better believe it.”
“I believe, I believe.”
“Merry Christmas, my turkey.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Jim. I love you.”
Balls By Patt
“Jim, do you know where I put those red balls?”
“They’re not balls, Chief, they’re Christmas bulbs.”
“Whatever… They’re red and they’re round. That to me is balls. I like putting the balls on the tree.”
“Chief, it sounds horrible to hear you say that.”
“That you like putting balls on the tree.”
“I didn’t mean your balls, Jim. Now that would be a sight indeed. Everyone would come and take a gander at that.”
“Stop laughing, they would gander.”
“Stop calling them balls and call them bulbs.”
“They’re called ornaments, you doofus, the lights have bulbs. So there.”
“So call them ornaments then, not balls.”
“If you can call ornaments, bulbs, I can call them balls.”
“I give up.”
“I win again. Now help me put the Angel on top of the tree.”
“Is that the ornament Angel or you?”
“Oh you are going to get so lucky, big guy.”
Deck the Halls By Patt
“Chief, do you have to use blinking lights all over the loft?”
“They’re for Christmas, Mr. Scrooge. Get a grip.”
“They give me a headache.”
“Dial it down, Jim.”
“Dial what down. The blinking gives me a headache. They’re still blinking no matter what I dial down to.”
“It helps if you sing while we hang them all over the place.”
“Not if I have a headache, it doesn’t.”
“Deck the Halls with boughs of holly…”
“I’m going to deck you.”
“Right here and now? Under the blinking lights? And what happened to your headache, Mr. Scrooge?”
“It left at the thought of decking your hall.”
“I’ll get the regular lights and put those up after we’re done upstairs.”
“And they say I don’t have the upper hand…”
“Jim, I had the other lights ready, I just wanted to get decked.”
Snow By Scribe
"I hate this time of year."
Jim glanced at Blair as they made their way along the damp sidewalk. "Yeah, I know you hate the cold, Chief."
"It's not that. I specifically hate THIS time of year--just before the first warm weather, when all the snow is melting into gray slush. It's depressing."
"And messy," Jim agreed. "Slush is nasty." Fat white flakes started to drift past his face. "You just can't catch a break, can..." Blair was turning slowly, arms outstretched, grinning face turned up to the thickening flurry.
Blair shrugged. "I hate slush, but I LOVE snow."
Christmas Trees By Scribe
"If we're going looking for a tree, why are we at the mall?," said Blair. "This lot always has crap trees."
Jim parked the truck. "We're looking for one inside." He got out and headed into the mall.
Blair followed. "Tell me you're not considering buying an artificial. You've said that artificial Christmas trees are signs of the coming Apocalypse and you wouldn't have one under your roof."
Jim stopped in front of a table manned by a Salvation Army worker. There was also a tall (fake) tree, decorated with paper angels. "Each angel represents a needy child. You adopt one and get a list--toys, clothes, stuff like that. Then you shop and bring it here. 'Santa' brings it Christmas. I thought this year instead of buying a tree for the loft..."
Blair stepped up to the table. "We'll take two, please."
We Are Family By Patt
Jim noticed that Blair had been quiet all day long at work and wondered what was wrong. He would have to ask him on the ride home later that day.
When they got in the truck, Jim didn’t waste any time. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Jim. Your Dad called while you were in records and wants you to come over to his house Christmas day for dinner and presents. He seemed really up about it, man, so I think you should think about it. Steven is going to be there too.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Jim asked, honestly confused.
“Because you don’t like mixing family and work. So now you know, call him tonight and tell him that you’ll be there.”
“I’ll call him tonight, but only if he says you get to go with me.”
“Jim, it’s only for family.”
Jim looked over at his lover and very softly said, “We are family.”
“But your Dad won’t like it.” Blair reminded him.
“Are you sure?” Blair asked almost smiling.
“I love you more than you can imagine, so it’s not like I have a choice. You’re my family and we’ll be going together or we’ll be spending it at home together. Either way, it’s you and me.”
“I love you, Jim.”
“And I love you, Blair.”
Christmas would work out all right, because Blair was reminded of his place in Jim’s life. He liked being Jim’s family. And Jim was thrilled to have Blair in his.
Friends By Patt
Blair sat on the chair in the loft and looked around at all of their friends faces and smiled to himself. They had all come over for Christmas Eve and no one seemed to want to leave. Blair didn’t want any of them to go either. He loved his friends and knew that they loved him and Jim back, but tonight was very special. It was Jim and Blair’s first Christmas Eve together and everyone knew it. So they continued to talk, laugh and have fun.
Blair looked around and smiled some more. This would be how he remembered it years from now. It was one of the best times in his life. He glanced at Jim and saw that Jim was getting a little emotional with Joel, so Blair went to the rescue with jokes and more food offerings.
This was Christmas. And these were friends.
Jingle Bells By Patt
Blair was baking cookies and listening to the radio. Jim was in reading the paper, while listening to Blair sing along with the radio.
Jingle Bells, jingle bells, Jingle all the way. Blair loves Jim and Jim loves Blair, That is the news today-aye.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, Jingle all the way. Jim loves Blair and Blair loves Jim, There’s nothing left to say.
Jim smiled as he got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen and kissed Blair.
“What brought that on, man?”
“You did. Your singing made me want you even more. How about I show you how much I love you?”
“Geeze, I’m going to have to sing Christmas Carols more often.”
Egg Nog By Patt
"Chief, I'm not drinking that."
"It's better for you."
"It's not the same, I want the real stuff."
"But this has no fat in it, Jim."
"You're ruining it for me, Sandburg."
"I'll put a little rum in it for you, how does that sound?"
"Put that back and get the real egg nog or I'm not drinking it."
"Fine, you brat."
"Now what were you saying about adding rum?"
Pumpkin Pie By Patt
“What cha making, Jim?”
“It would seem self evident, Chief.”
“I guess that was a stupid question. I love the smell of pumpkin pie. I’ve never seen you make one from scratch.”
“I love making this recipe, it’s Sally’s.”
“Whoa, what are you doing with that condensed milk? That’s pure fat.”
“And that’s what makes the pies so good, Chief.”
“Couldn’t you find a less artery slamming recipe?
“Don’t want to, wait until you taste this pie. It’s to die for.”
“Jim, no one really says it’s to die for anymore.”
“Whatever… It’s the best pumpkin pie you’ll ever taste in your life.”
“Hey Jim, it says here on the can that Sally’s recipe is theirs.”
“Oh shut up and wait until you taste it.”
“Give me a kiss, my big chef.”
“Merry Christmas, Chief.”
“Back at ya.”
In the Spirit of Things By Patt
“Jim, let’s go shopping for a new wreath for the loft. I feel like it would put us more into the spirit of things.”
“Blair, unless you’re getting one to put around your dick, I don’t want to go anywhere tonight. I have other plans and I’m ‘way’ into the spirit of things.”
“Yeah, you’re right, a wreath can wait.”
“You going to join me upstairs?”
In the Middle of the Night By Patt
Jim woke up to a shivering Blair standing next to his bed. “Sandburg, what are you doing?”
“Man, the heater went out and I’m freezing down in my room, could I get in bed with you?”
“Fine, just don’t hog all of the covers. I’ll fix the heater first thing in the morning.” Jim rolled over on his side and found a very cold Sandburg following him. “Sandburg, what are you doing?”
“I’m cold and you’re really warm. I’m just trying to get some of your heat.”
Jim could feel the heat from Blair’s cock going against his backside and he smiled to himself. “Come here.” Jim rolled over and pulled Blair into his arms. He snuggled with his Guide and found out that it wasn’t a bad thing at all. It was very good.
“Jim, do you warm everyone up like this, or am I special?” Blair teased.
“What do you think, Blair?”
“Oh my god, calling me Blair and snuggling. This is indeed a night to remember. I’m never going to have a Christmas Eve as great as this one.”
“Do you want your Christmas present a little early, because I could work that out?”
“That would be nice, my Sentinel. Show me what I get for Christmas.”
And Jim did just that.