lookslikelove: (marvel: i'm going down amongst the saint)
[the princess of the paupers.] ([personal profile] lookslikelove) wrote2009-12-27 03:24 pm

[fic| our seasons of joy and mockery]

our seasons of joy and mockery
felicia hardy (with a side of johnny storm)
969 words - pg. sort of.
for [livejournal.com profile] shelightsupwell.



Christmas shopping has never been on Felicia’s list of Top Ten Ways To Spend Her Time. No sales could entice her, no carolers in the streets or merry decorations and songs playing in the stores would make her step a foot closer than she had to. Her idea of “bargain hunting” was “rescuing some lovely vase from the living room of a family who hadn’t really been using it anyways”. It did not include waiting in lines and forking out cash for things that would probably be returned later.

Shopping wasn’t the issue. Felicia always enjoyed her little shopping excursions with Tandy. However she’d be the first to admit that hanging out with Tandy never really had anything to do with normal. It was about four hundred miles southwest of there and getting further away by the moment.

To make a very long story short, Felicia Hardy had no good excuse or explanation for why she was hanging out outside the men’s dressing room on a Saturday in the height of the Christmas shopping season.

Exhaling lately, she examined her fingernails (which were in quite the state and should probably be fixed at some point) for the umpteenth time and perfecting her bored expression.

“How am I going to properly judge anything if you refuse to come out?” she said in a rather annoyed tone to the curtained off room next to her. Pulling off one of her shoes, she chucked it at the curtain. “Come, Johnny, man up.”

“I am not refusing. I am saving your eyes from bleeding out of your skull,” replied the voice of Johnny Storm, which sounded rather agitated himself. Sticking his head out from behind the curtain, he frowned. “And there is nothing unmanly about me.”

Arching an eyebrow, Felicia smirked. “Really? Then what’s the big deal?”

“Have you seen this thing? It shouldn’t be worn by anyone let alone me.”

“Of course I’ve seen it. I picked it out!” Gesturing for him to pull the curtain back, she nodded encouragingly. “Now, open sesame.”

Being the younger brother of a rather strong willed woman had taught Johnny Storm many things. One of those things was to never taunt a woman about her clothes, her hair or her chocolate consumption. Another was to know when to quit fighting and just give in.

Pulling back the curtain, he tried very hard to stay calm as Felicia let out a whoop of laughter and clamped her hand over her mouth. Tossing her shoe back in her direction he tried his hardest to look cool given the situation. Naturally he failed miserably.

“It’s not--” Felicia gasped between giggles. “That bad.”

“There are sequined reindeer dancing around a fuzzy snowman. How is this ‘not that bad’?”

“They’re studly. In their little reindeer way,” she argued, knowing full well that it was nothing but a big fat lie.

Studly? They sparkle!”

“I hear there are a lot of women who are very into that sort of thing.”

“That’s it.” Johnny began to struggle with the wool monstrosity caring little for things like socially accepted terms of decency as he pulled the sweater up and off.

Still leaning against the wall, Felicia pouted. “Awh. But we were having so much fun.”

Balling the sweater up, he shoved it into a corner of the dressing room before picking his coat off the hook. He might have burned hot, but that didn’t stop people from looking at you strangely if you went without a coat in December.

“There was no ‘we’ in that,” he said starting towards the door.

Felicia straightened up and followed after him, falling into stride with him as she ran her fingers over the racks that they walked through. “So, I was thinking…”

“This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?” Johnny turned his head to look at her, mild worry etched on his face.

“Hey, I said I’d help you pick out something for Sue, so no judging.” Felicia wagged a finger at him. “I was just thinking that a sweater like that would be perfect for Sp--” Catching herself mid-word, she corrected and carried on. “Peter. Thoughts?”

Letting out a snort of laughter, a smile broke across Johnny’s face. “He’ll never get laid again.”

“So it’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“Beyond perfect. It might be the best gift ever given.”

“I thought so. It beats frankincense and myrrh, that’s for certain.”

Johnny held out and arm and Felicia looped her own in it. “Shall we, Ms Hardy. I think I saw a big rack of them by the door.”

“Are we still talking sweaters? Because either way I’m okay,” she teased with a smile.

“It makes it really hard to think of a gift for my sister when you say things like that,” he returned, feigning being wounded by the conflicting thoughts.

Nudging him with her elbow, she scoffed at the notion that anything that simple could be made harder.

“Fine. I solemnly promise that all the Storms and co will end up with presents they love. Under the tree is entirely optional, unless you’re into that sort of thing,” she declared as if saying some sort of official oath. Tugging him in the direction of the stack of sweaters, she half skipped at the idea of a task so easily accomplished.

“There you go again!”

Letting go of his arm, she picked out one of the uglier ones and pretended to dance around with it.

“Shut up and say Merry Christmas, Felicia who is the best and most helpful reformed thief you’ve ever known,” she commanded after sticking out her tongue at him.

“Merry Christmas, Felicia who is a lot of things that I can’t say in public.”

Throwing the sweater at him (he caught it easily) she laughed. “Merry Christmas, Johnny.”

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