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#Deck the Halls
it's steddiemas!! i am so excited for these prompts!!! i'm sure i'm not going to make something for each day, but there are a good few that i'm excited about; my plan is to make all the ones i do write be one story, but we'll see how that goes 😅
@steddiemas Day 1 - Deck the Halls
pairing: steddie | word count: 1,793 | rated: G
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Eddie wakes up too early on November 1st. But hey, when nature calls, you answer.
He takes care of business and is turning back to the guest room he’d crashed in last night when a movement catches his eye.
Someone is awake already, and is weaving a string of artificial greenery along the bottom of the rail where the second floor is open into the living room.
Eddie takes another step forward and sees Steve's face peeking up over the floor, perfectly and completely content. The seemingly always furrowed brow he has is gone, his eyes are soft, and his lips set into a just barely there smile as he hums quietly to himself.
“Steve?” He immediately regrets interrupting Steve’s peace, as he startles at the sound of Eddie’s voice.
He looks up at Eddie briefly, then immediately relaxes back into his task. “Oh, you’re awake! Listen, I love you man,” Eddie’s stomach swoops at the words. “But I'm kinda in a groove right now, so once a couple of the others are up I’ll start making breakfast, ‘kay?”
Eddie nods in agreement despite Steve already looking away back to the garland in his hands. He really wants to ask why in the actual hell he’s hanging Christmas decorations the literal day after Halloween, but what comes out is “How are you not dying right now?”
Steve’s hands pause, and he blinks up at Eddie in confusion so he continues, “You had just as much to drink as I did last night…?”
Understanding floods the other man’s face. “Oh! I have a splitting headache right now.” Steve says, getting back to the task at hand and weaving the end of a string of lights through a gap between the banisters.
“Yet you’re awake. And putting up Christmas decorations.”
“Yes.”
The crease re-appears between Steve's brows, though not nearly as deep as usual. 
“Cool. Cool. Follow up question: why are you putting up Christmas decorations?? It’s only the day after Halloween!”
Steve stiffens at that, his brow furrowed fully now.
‘Shit, take it back asshole!’ Eddie chides himself.
“Exactly. It’s time for Christmas.” Steve sniffs, pausing before he continues in a soft voice, “I like Christmas..”
He doesn’t look back up at Eddie, and is now shoving the garland and lights through each gap in the railing, rather than slowly guiding them through.
Eddie watches him for a couple moments then says, “Alright big guy, what can I do to help?”
Steve is immediately relieved, looking back up at Eddie with a big smile (and no crease between his brows, thank you very much), “Wanna put the decorations on the mantle?”
“Sure thing Stevie,” Eddie smiles back at him, turning on his heel to trot down the steps and hang a left into the living room.
He freezes, taking in everything around him he couldn’t see from his spot in the hall upstairs.
There’s red and green tubs, boxes stacked upon boxes, loose strings of cranberries and shedded artificial pine needles absolutely everywhere.
There’s also a complete lack of any Halloween decorations left in the giant room. 
So, in the last however long Steve's been awake, he has: cleaned up from their party the night before, put away all the spooky decorations, pulled out a department store’s worth of Christmas decor, and is currently hanging garlands from atop a—holy shit!
“Steve! Why the fuck are you up so high??”
Steve twists back at Eddie's outburst, looking confused as all hell. “What do you mean, ‘Why?’? You just saw me upstairs, how else am I supposed to hang this?” he says, shaking his arm full of un-placed pine and the ladder in the process.
“You could’ve put them in from upstairs! On stable ground!” Eddie stresses, scrambling between and over boxes of holiday cheer to get to the other end of the room.
“I’m fine Eddie, I’ve been on a ladder before.” Steve snorts, going back to his lights. 
“Steve, sweetheart, you cannot be up that high on a ladder without someone holding onto the bottom!” Eddie says, finally getting over to him and grabbing onto it with both hands, leaning his weight onto it. “What if you fell? No one was awake! What if no one heard you!”
“Please.” Eddie could hear the eye roll in Steve’s voice, “I was perfectly fine.”
“Yeah, well, Wayne would kill me if I let you commit an OSHA violation.”
“What’s an OSHA?”
“Nevermind, keep working Stevie.”
He continues to work steadily, weaving and pruning the fake greenery to his liking and bunching up the end to stuff between two posts when he decides to come down.
He comes down the ladder and makes to move it when Eddie stops him.
“Oh no you don’t, you’re not going back up there.” he states, quickly letting the ladder fall together back from its extended length.
“I’m not done!”
“Didn’t say you were.” he says, leaning the ladder against the wall instead, out of the way, “You’re just going to do this from up there instead.”
For a moment, it looks like Steve is going to argue, but he gives up before he even starts, huffing petulantly and grumbling up the stairs. “And they call me ‘Mom’.”
“Thanks, Stevie!” Eddie calls after him.
“Yeah, yeah.."
Eddie snorts a quiet laugh, but goes back to his original task. He starts examining the boxes strewn out in front of him, the one labeled ‘GARLAND’ is already open, another boasts the title ‘LIGHTS’, another just says ‘KITCHEN’; after three huge tubs labeled ‘TREE’, he finds a smaller cardboard box with ‘MANTLE’ scrawled onto the side with marker.
You can’t say Steve isn’t organized.
He pulls open the top and starts to pull out the decorations. Everything in this box is colored in the few same shades of red, muted green, a handful more in bright silver. From the bottom, he pulls out a much shorter string of garland than the one Steve’s still fluffing to perfection upstairs, this one wound with a thick red, white, and green plaid ribbon.
“What?” Steve calls down after Eddie starts to laugh.
“More plaid, Steven?” Eddie grins, turning to show the garland in his hands.
This time, Steve snorts out a laugh, “Shut up, man.”
Eddie digs a little farther and comes back out with a small plastic box of thumbtacks and gets to work on the mantle. Using the ribbon to pin the length to the wood above the fireplace, he sets it in place along the edge, glancing up to fluff the fake branches out how Steve’s got the ones upstairs.
He gets into his own groove in no time, going back and forth from box to fireplace and placing the various baubles and tchotchkes how he thinks they should be. The clunky and gaudy seeming holiday themed frames at the bottom of the box throw him off for a moment, but soon there are years of awkward pictures of the shitheads leaning along the mantle.
A little red frame holds one of Max and El laughing brightly in just as brightly colored make-up and clothes, a framed polaroid of Robin and Steve in their Scoops uniforms, one of Will dressed up for Halloween; The pictures all must only be a few years old, Steve didn’t really get to know the kids until ‘84, but this little Dustin in the frame with the 3D train on it, and this one with a very disgruntled-looking Mike with his hair slicked flat in an over-the-top tree frame go right in the front.
“Nancy gave me that one of Mike, if you can believe it. He’s gonna hate that it’s up here.” Steve says from behind him now, a smile in his voice “Claudia gave me this one of Henderson. It’s actually from before their Snow Ball back in Middle school, I did his hair.”
Oh fuck, that’s adorable. Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest. “You never told me that,” he says, accepting the last frame from Steve. A bright blue one with a Teddy Bear in each of the bottom two corners. This one has a JC Penney professional-looking shot of Erica and Lucas in matching holiday sweaters. Definitely a Mrs. Sinclair specialty.
“Erica gave me that one last Christmas, after everything happened at Starcourt.” he smiles, “They’re gonna hate that they’re all up like this.”
“Good.” Eddie grins, turning to face the other man, “What’s next, Stevie?”
They spend the next couple hours decorating; Steve tackles the tree next, working on it while he directs Eddie what to put up next, and making sure to call him back for any more ladder use at Eddie’s insistence.
At one point, Robin shuffles out from the first floor guest room she shared with Nancy, but she takes one look around and shuffles back down the hall.
Sooner than he thought, Eddie finds himself standing in the middle of a Sears catalog. The tree is huge, a fake one to fit the Harringtons’ high ceilings, covered in multicolored lights, red, green, and silver baubles, stringy silver tinsel, a sparkling star on top. 
The stair railings are lit up along both the top and bottom, the kitchen towels and utensils swapped out for holiday themed ones, even the front doormat is switched out for a Christmas themed one.
Steve is wandering around the place, vacuuming up stray glitter and pine needles, poking and prodding things until he’s satisfied, and Eddie is packing up anything unused and carting the tubs and boxes back to the garage.
After his last trip, Eddie swings back through the door to the living room under the steps at the same time Steve is coming back through the other way, both his arms filled with the last of the unused lights.
They collide, of course, and Eddie bends forward on instinct to catch any falling strings
“OOf–shit sorry, Stevie, I–” he glances up at Steve’s face for just a moment, but looks back up immediately, standing straight and keeping his eyes trained on something past Steve’s face, taped haphazardly to the underside of the doorframe.
“It’s okay, Eds, you oka–what’s wrong—?” Steve looks up as well.
Mistletoe.
“Mistletoe? How’d that–? Eddie, I didn’t– You–we don’t have to—”
Eddie’s lips find themselves brushing against the warm, soft skin of Steve’s cheek before the younger man can collect his thoughts.
He lingers there for a moment, pulling back with the lights in his arms instead. “I’ve got these, sweetheart, wanna get started on breakfast?”
Steve looks completely floored, his face flushed red and mouth agape; Eddie gives him a quick wink, then turns back toward the garage just before his own face starts to burn hot. “Holy shit,” he whispers to himself, smiling wide, “Jesus H. Christ.”
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it was 100% robin that taped up the mistletoe in case you were wondering lmao
i looked up to make sure OSHA was around in '86 and it was established in 1970, enacted in 1971. if you assume wayne is a union man like i do, he would've definitely known all about proper OSHA compliance
also, i looked up old pictures of 80s era christmas trees and when abouts fake trees came into popularity (which was in the 80s :o) ) to get the descriptions right, and you just know the harringtons would've been on top of all the trends (though i think steve would prefer stringy strips of tinsel over long garlands of the stuff).
other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year
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Favorite Christmas Houses National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation  Home Alone Miracle on 34th Street  Deck The Halls The Family Stone Christmas With The Kranks Four Christmases The Holiday Unaccompanied Minors  The Santa Claus 
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askmovieslate · 3 months
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Ugh, this movie is awful.
Did you know that Matthew Broderick was found on set once with his head sunk in his shoulders as he repeated over and over again "I've really hit rock bottom"? I feel so bad for everyone involved in this movie, really.
What's worse is this movie is boring to the point of crying, so even though you could deal with the unlikeable characters, you still have to deal with the atrocious pacing.
Avoid it. It's not a good one.
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What is this Bruins culture you speak of?
Marchand talked about it before he was even captain - they're a family and they have one another's backs, always.
They don't need to have one tough guy "enforcer" on the bench ready to come onto the ice if opposing teams cross the line. Any one of them is ready to immediately turn and deck your halls without a moments notice if you come for one of their teammates.
Last night Forbort, Mitchell, Beecher, and Steen (that sounds like a law firm 😂) were all tossing Habs around in that pile after Gallagher ripped Sway's helmet off.
Gallagher skated back over and said something to Sway, and Forbort immediately grabbed him by the throat and they had to be separated again.
It's one of the Bruins biggest assets I think. Its not "watch your back around teammates a, b, and c when they're on the ice if you come for one of their teammates" it's "watch your back around the Bruins when they're on the ice if you come for one of their teammates."
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nixsmis · 3 months
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i'm open for wing-its weekly on fridays/saturdays via google form linked on FA/twitter/BlueSky/discord! Moonbeam Patrons get a discounted price on Simple-Cel Wing-its! https://www.patreon.com/nixsmis character © Moofox art © me
Posted using PostyBirb
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Merry Christmas from Irondad and his Spiderson 🥰
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bigmaccasserole · 4 months
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Christmas with Mother Goose by Walt kelly
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leaderlamby · 3 months
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Daily Sermon #113
Deck the halls with shrines to worship
Fa la la la la, la la la la
In their eyes, we all are worthless
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Don we now our cult apparel
Fa la la la la la, la la la la
Gods will fall, their ways immoral
Fa la la la la, la la la la
See the blazing idol 'fore us
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Struck by Lamb, now join the chorus
Fa la la la la, la la la la
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pynkjinkx · 5 months
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funniest shit to wake up to on the tl. poor jinkx looks like she fighting for her mf life out here 💀
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soullessjack · 4 months
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is this funny I haven’t eaten all day sorry
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agent-p-writes · 3 months
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Elves Noir
Seattle. Winter. The days are short and the nights are long. Rain streaks down the grimy windows of the Seattle PD and pools in the streets, clearing traces of –
“Estevez, how many times do I have to tell you, this is a police report, not a goddamn crime novel.”
“I know, I know.”
“Wrap it up so we can go home, it’s Christmas Eve. Just the facts, remember? Facts.”
Estevez pauses over the keyboard, brow furrowed. It’s nearly five already, and the office has emptied out for the day, the automatic lights switched off everywhere except Estevez’s office. He doesn’t have plans, his family’s all further south, and Zimmerfield is Jewish, but it’s the principle of the thing.
“Zim,” he says, “you sure you want the facts?”
Zimmerfield pauses in the doorway, his face half-thrown into shadow. A plate of cookies is still on Estevez’ desk. Estevez’s gaze slides meaningfully from Zim’s face, to the candy-cane-striped music box in the corner, and back.
Zim sighs. “The relevant facts,” he says. He waves a hand towards the candy canes. “The… you know. Non-Gently ones.”
“You got it,” says Estevez, turning back to the keyboard. “Non-Gently fact report, coming right up.”
It all started, he types as Zim heads back to his own office, when a dame walked in out of the rain and said…
---
“...Elves.”
Estevez and Zimmerfield exchanged a look. “Elves?” Estevez repeated, from his perch on the edge of Zim’s desk.
“Elves,” said the woman. Five six, bobbed hair, Talbots sweater and a face like she’d just smelled wet dog - Estevez had her type pegged as soon as she walked in, and it wasn’t full of Christmas spirit. “Gimbels Christmas elves. We expect one or two to drop out, but we’ve lost five in the past week.”
“When you say lost,” said Zim, keeping his eyes on his twirling pencil and not the woman, “you mean…”
“Missing,” the woman clarified. “If they miss their shift three days in a row, we remove them from the roster. We don’t normally consider it a police matter, but it’s happened so many times in a row, and there’s something else… odd.”
Estevez leaned forward. “Odd?” he said.
The woman’s eyes flicked from Estevez to Zimmerfield. Zim’s pencil twirling had stopped. “Ma’am,” said Zim, “we’re Missing Persons. We’re trained to deal with odd.”
The woman tugged at her purse straps and bent towards them, lowering her voice. “Every morning one hasn’t shown up,” she said, “we’ve found… cookies… in the main office.”
Estevez didn’t need to look at Zimmerfield to know the eyebrows had gone up. “Cookies?” said Zim.
“And milk,” said the woman. “In glass jars.”
“Milk and cookies?” said Estevez. “Like, for Santa Claus?”
“Have you checked the tapes?” said Zim as the woman gave Estevez a look reminiscent of his third-grade teacher. “Surely you have security cameras in the main office?”
“Yes, we do,” said the woman, electing to ignore Estevez, “but the software’s being upgraded, so they were glitching out even before the disappearances started. We checked them, and there’s nothing helpful on there. I can send them to you anyway.”
“Please do,” said Zim. “Now, if you can just answer a few more questions, we’ll start looking into this right away.”
Elves. Milk. Cookies. The case was a head-scratcher. To solve it, we’d need to call upon an old friend, though he didn’t always have our best interests in mind…
“Hiiiii! You’ve reached Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency - no case too small, no bee too buzzy! This is Dirk Gently speaking - Dirk Gently, holistic detective, of the holistic detective agency, which you have reached - how may I be of assistance today?”
Estevez covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “It’s Gently,” he said. Dirk Gently, to be specific. Self-proclaimed detective; no relation to the actual, badged police. Where he went, trouble followed. But Gently knew weird, and this case was definitely weird.
Zim groaned silently at the ceiling. “Ask him if Black is in.”
“Is Ms. Black there?” asked Estevez. “This is Detective Estevez.”
“Detective!” said the delighted voice on the other end. “Always a pleasure! How did that Swedish case of yours end up? Not too many loose fish, I hope?”
“Mr. Gently, can we speak to Ms. Black?” asked Zimmerfield over Estevez’ shoulder.
“Ooh, both detectives today! Full house!” said Gently. “You know, my horoscope mentioned something like this might happen - I thought it meant both my favorite baristas would be in residence, but I’ve been wrong before - just last Thursday, in fact –”
“Is Ms. Black there or not?” Estevez cut in.
“Er - no,” said Gently. “She’s gone to –”
“What about Brotzman?” said Zimmerfield, before Gently could go off again. “Either Brotzman. Or Hobbs, if he’s in town.”
“If you’ll let me finish,” said Gently, “my assistant, his sister, and the eminent sheriff are all out at the moment. Shopping, I believe. They’ve left me behind - to watch for burglars, I assume, though it’s been at least three weeks since the last break-in –”
“Is there anyone there who can help us with a case?” Estevez interrupted.
Pause on the other end of the line. “Well,” said Gently brightly, “there’s me!”
We brought Gently up to speed on the facts: The missing elves. The milk and cookies. The mysterious timing, just weeks before Christmas. Gently agreed: it was weird. Good thing weird was his specialty. He said he’d help us out. And he knew just where to start…
“Santa Claus?”
Gently propped his feet up on Zimmerfield’s desk, folding his hands across his chest. “Well, yes,” he said. “I should think that’s the obvious solution.”
“The obvious - Zim, are you hearing this?”
“I wish I wasn’t,” said Zimmerfield. 
“Gently, be serious,” said Estevez. “Five people are missing. You can’t be chasing after fairy tales here.”
“Oh, he’s quite real,” said Gently sagely. “I’ve spoken with him several times. Well, not him, specifically, but his representatives, at least. He’s rather one-sided in communication. Now, I’ve already sent him my Christmas letter, so I hope at least one of you hasn’t - that’s the only way to reach him, as I’m sure you’re aware - unless you’d prefer to go through the Tooth Fairy, which I would not recommend –”
“Tooth Fairy?” said Estevez, his voice climbing. He shared a frustrated glance with Zimmerfield. Any case with Gently was sure to be a twister, but this one was worse than most. But there were innocent kids out there missing their parents. He would do whatever it took to get them back. 
Clenching his jaw, he turned back to Gently. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll try it your way. What do we need to do?”
Dear Mr. Kringle, aka Father Christmas, aka Santa Claus, aka St. Nick:
On behalf of the Seattle Police Department, we are hereby requesting your testimony regarding the disappearance of five (5) Gimbels Department Store employees, between the dates of 1st and 14th December, 2018. Evidence found at the scene points to the involvement of you or your associates. You are not considered a suspect at this time; however, any information you can provide is of the utmost importance to find these missing persons posthaste.
If this request is not met within three (3) days, we will be forced to follow up with more decisive action.
Sincerely,
Detectives Estevez and Zimmerfield, Missing Persons, SPD
P.S. For Christmas we would like a new espresso machine for the office.
“Zim, you seen this?”
“That what I think it is?”
“Seems like it.”
Zim stuck his hands in his pockets, frowning at the box on the desk. The red-and-white striped box, with a handle on the side. The red-and-white striped box with a handle on the side and note that read, “FROM THE NORTH POLE.” 
“You call Gently?” he said.
Estevez rubbed his forehead. “Not yet,” he said. “Think I should?”
“No,” said Zim quickly. “...Police matter,” he added.
Estevez nodded in understanding. His eyes hadn’t moved from the box. After a long few minutes of silence he said, “Should we… open it?”
“Well, I’m not handing this off to bomb squad,” Zim sighed. “It was hard enough to explain the tea set. Yeah, hand it over, I’ll open it.”
Estevez picked up the box as gingerly as though it were a bomb and passed it over. Zimmerfield took it, eyeing the stripes, and began turning the handle. Tinny music emanated from within, an ear-screeching rendition of a popular Christmas tune. Worse than they’d expected. Estevez braced himself…
The lid popped open.
An envelope ejected across the room. Estevez caught it and scanned the back. “Says it’s to us.”
“Open it, open it,” Zim urged, setting the box back down and crowding around the desk. Estevez ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter, typed on red paper in a font that looked like Comic Sans. Snowflake stickers lined a border across the top.
Dear Detectives Estevez and Zimmerfield, the letter read,
Be here advised that this is the true and uncoerced testimony of former Gimbels employees Tony S–, Harold R–, Ginni P–, Ashwin S–, and Sam V–. 
“Any of the elves have legal training?” asked Zim, whose eyebrows had begun a steady creep upward.
“Maybe from Law and Order,” said Estevez.
We hereby affirm, on this 16th December 2018, that we have left our previous employment at Gimbels Department Store of our own free will and accord. We have taken up new employment with the enterprise of Mr. Nicholas Kringle, B.B.A. –
“B.B.A.?” Zim exclaimed, eyebrows leaping a full five centimeters upward. 
– and, having found compensation and working conditions far superior in this locale, we have no intention of returning to Macy’s this season. In fact, as per our new contract with the Christmas Laborers’ Associated Union Service (CLAUS), we will remain in the North Pole until the first day of the new year (1 January 2019), with the option to return yearly for additional one to three months’ employment. Please inform all concerned parties that there is no need for legal action.
Sincerely,
The Former Gimbels Elves
Estevez finished the last line, tossed the letter onto the desk, and slouched back in his chair. Zimmerfield’s eyebrows hovered near the ceiling. The music box eked out a few last notes and stuttered to a stop.
“They’ve…” said Zimmerfield faintly, “unionized.”
The case had cracked wide open. The missing persons weren’t victims of crime, only of capitalism. Working retail was enough to make anyone desperate - desperate enough to skip town for the far, far north. We had our answer.
But would Gimbels want to hear it?
“They… left?” the Gimbels manager repeated dumbly.
Estevez and Zimmerfield exchanged a glance. “Yes, ma’am,” said Estevez. “Unfortunatey, due to certain legal concerns, we’re unable to share particular details, but we’re confident in our assessment that they walked out of their own free will.”
The woman looked back and forth between the detectives’ faces. “You can’t tell me anything?” she said. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid not,” said Estevez.
“What about the milk?” said the woman. “What about the cookies? What about - what about –”
Zimmerfield leaned forward, tapping the edge of the desk. “How much do you pay the Christmas elves?” he asked. “Minimum wage?”
“Certainly not!” said the woman. “In fact, we’re several dollars above –”
“One dollar above,” said Estevez. “Glassdoor,” he added, at the woman’s incredulous look. He pointed at himself. “Detective.”
“It’s still above,” the woman sniffed. “And of course we follow the state mandated guidelines for –”
“State mandated guidelines?” said Zimmerfield. “Have you read the state mandated guidelines? Ten minute rest breaks, schedules subject to change without notice, mandated overtime - have you ever worked retail at Christmas?”
The woman spluttered in outrage - the unrighteous kind. After a minute she managed, “I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”
“Course you don’t,” said Zim. “But if you want to keep your employees, I’d consider taking a look at your employee conditions. Estevez?”
Estevez rolled up from the desk and offered the woman his arm. She shook him off and stomped to the door. “I’m very disappointed in our police system today,” she snapped, a parting shot that fell flat before Zim’s poker face. “I thought you’d have a bit more sympathy.”
“Oh, we do,” said Estevez. “Plenty of sympathy. For the missing persons, that is.”
“Which you’re… not,” Zim added.
The woman let out a final huff, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the room.
Another day, another case closed, Estevez types to finish off. He slaps a palm on the desk and pushes his chair back, spinning across the room. “Done,” he calls to Zim. 
“Finally,” says Zim. “Grab your coat, let’s go.”
Estevez closes out of the report and swings his coat around his shoulders. Across the office, Zim waits in the shadowy doorway. Estevez clicks off the light and weaves through the empty desks.
“How’d the call with Gently go?” he asks, reaching Zim.
“He said,” says Zim in a weary tone, “he expected it was something like that.”
“Something like an elves’ union?” says Estevez. “He knew about that?”
“Who knows,” says Zim. “I don’t even think Gently knows what he does and doesn’t know.”
“Fair point,” Estevez allows. “But, hey, we might get an espresso maker out of it.”
Zim acknowledges this as they push out the double doors in unison, into the blistering Seattle wind. They take a few more steps towards the curb and then stop.
“You got plans tonight?” Zimmerfield asks.
“Nah,” said Estevez, “my sister’s still in LA. You?”
“Infomercials,” says Zim. “The only thing on TV that’s not a goddamned Christmas movie.”
Estevez laughs and squints into the wind. “Dinner?” he says. 
“Yeah, why not,” says Zim. “Chinese?”
“Your turn to pay,” says Estevez.
“Chinese it is,” Zim says, and turns towards their usual spot. Estevez shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and falls into step beside him. Another day, another case closed, he thinks, as they vanish into the darkening night.
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poll-party · 4 months
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ROUND 1 - Poll 6/16
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lost-carcosa · 4 months
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lovestereo · 3 months
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viridian-pickle · 4 months
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