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woob · 2 years

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Salmon Sweater

Fireman Sam fanfic i decided would be suitable on good ol’Tumblr, AND I NEED TO SHARE MORE STUFF

Pairing: Sam/Elvis

Description: It's Christmas Eve at the PontyPandy fire station, and Sam is about to go home... not before Elvis attempts to give him a present. Set in the first series. ENJOY!

...

9:25 PM

"Good idea that, using those old light bulbs for decorations this year," Sam said as he carried a box of old wires to the front door of the fire station. "Everyone got to paint a few before they were put together. It looks a lovely tree, now."

He supported the box with his knee as he tucked it under his right arm, and opened the door with the other. A gust of sharp, cold air mixed with the warm air inside and created a mini snowstorm in the entry.

"Ych a fi! It's gotten a bit cold since I've last been out, I'll have to hurry home before my toes freeze in the snow!" He chuckled. He ventured outside and made a noise as he struggled to pull the door shut, fighting against the wind.

Elvis was in the kitchen listening to his firefighting partner ramble on whilst huddled over the tea kettle, warming his hands with the steam fuzzling out of the lid. He'd made the mistake of staying up late the night prior and was paying the price in the form of surprise night duty. When the door shut, the ambience was left to the radiator humming gently under the window.

Elvis thought about the day while the kettle boiled; the crew had gone out to pick a tree from Farmer Morgan's field as usual, and sent the kids to fetch the decorations from the storage shed in the park. They returned with the box, but most of the bulbs inside were either faded or shattered. Sam had one of his brilliant ideas and ran off for a bit to gather some supplies, and henceforth most of the afternoon was spent painting lots and lots of light bulbs. Elvis liked the one he painted: A bright red bulb with a few black music notes. At night, most of PontyPandy had gathered to admire the tree and exchange their gifts. Everyone was happy. No emergencies today, thankfully.

Hopefully.

Just then, the doorknob twisted, and the door was nudged open with a powdery white boot. Flakes of snow swirled inside almost cartoonishly as Sam stepped in, covered in them.

"Is it snowing that much?" Elvis said, rising from his position at the kettle.

"More than I thought," Sam said, ruffling his hair with his hands and releasing snowflakes like he was a cloud. He shut the door with his shoulder. "I'll have to get my winter clothes out now; shame I can't wear my uniform off duty."

That made Elvis remember something.

"There's no need, Sam! I got you— er, no, I made you a gift for Christmas," He glanced at the clock; Sam was to go home soon, and he wouldn't get another chance to give it to him until after New Years. Elvis had planned to see his parents for Christmas and wouldn't be home for a week. "It might come in handy tonight, rather in the morning, like."

"Pardon? You made one?" Sam had to look up from shaking his boot out to glance at Elvis. He didn't know what he was going to give him; he prayed it wasn't food.

Elvis immediately perked up, forgetting he'd only slept four hours and explained with extravagant gestures that he'd taken up knitting with Bella, the nice Italian lady who runs the café across the street from Dilys. He had begun making the sweater for himself (a long, narrow tube-shaped sweater; he didn't like much form), but had gotten carried away and made the diameter a "hair too wide" for his liking. He circled around the table and to the storage cubby set beside the far wall, and dug around.

Sam's heart sank almost immediately. He put a hand to his stomach and frowned. It certainly wasn't going to fit.

"I— uh, appreciate the thought, Elvis, but I don't think—"

"Here it is! I hope you... oh dear."

It was a beautiful, salmon-coloured sweater pulled halfway out of the pile, but when it was completely out, the bottom half looked like it had been torn to shreds by a ferocious animal. In other words, it wasn't finished.

Loose threads dangled and got caught on boots, helmet straps, coat buttons, you name it, and poor Elvis struggled to pull it free without unraveling it even more. Even the knitting needles were still attached.

"I uh, I must have forgot to… to finish it," He mumbled sheepishly. One of the needles flew off like a slingshot, and the raven yelped as it hit him square in the nose. "Oh!"

Sam exhaled bemusedly, put his boot back on and went to help him out of his predicament. He had Elvis hold the sweater high above his head while he knelt and diligently plucked each of the strings off of whatever they managed to get caught on. After it was free, it was rolled into a burrito and set on the kitchen table.

"Sorry, Sam, I thought I'd finished it." Elvis muttered, staring blankly at the pink heap. Sam put a hand on his hip and held another up dismissively. Elvis had tried hard to finish it for him, but he didn't seem the least bit enthused.

"Not a problem, Elvis," Sam began dragging his feet backward, inching toward the entrance. "Any-who, I'd better get home before my pipes freeze. I'll see you…?"

"Uh, after New Years. I'm going on holiday."

"Right, well good luck tonight."

He left Elvis beside the table and stopped before the cubby, grabbing his helmet from under the sea of equipment. It was easy to identify because of a peculiar scuff mark along the raised section. He put it on and tightened it as he approached the door, and clipped the straps together.

"'Night, Elvis."

"Goodnight! H—Happy Christmas! "

He made one last attempt to appease his friend. He got no response, but the door was held open for a brief moment before it shut for the night. Elvis made it a goal to finish the sweater. Or, make a new one completely. He un-burrito-ed the sweater and pried the bottom open with his hands, identifying the size as best he could through the jungle of threads. It was much too small.

He giggled just a bit; in hindsight, he could see why Sam was so quick to dismiss his gift. Or maybe it was the colour? Maybe it wasn't his style? The threads were too thick?

Exasperated, he slunk to the window to catch another look at the ginger. He was surprisingly quick, for he was just a dim yellow dot floating slowly away, masked by the falling flakes.

He didn't know what he was doing. He was desperate to do something, anything for his friend, to please him somehow. He was never like this before... why did he want his attention?

He put his palms on the sill, slumped into it, and began thinking.

He didn't know much about Sam.

#fireman sam #elvis cridlington #fanfiction #fanfic #bguagdsahgfbj them #THEM.#i've been into fireman sam for almost a year now #and im JUST. starting to branch out anf post stuff #stupid little puppets my beloved

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