Holiday Cheer
Holiday Cheer
Disclaimers: I own nothing. People with money and lawyers, namely Marvel, owns all the characters and locations within unless otherwise noted in this or previous stories in this arc. This work of fan fiction is strictly for fun and no profit is being made from this writing or posting. That said, if cursing, sexual innuendo and exploding things bother you, go elsewhere kthxbye.
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Happy Yule!!!!!!! InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: Hmmm. I’ll think of something to say later and put it here. ;) Morgan: Happy yule to you too! Readers/Reviewers: This story is inspired by Dr Nightfall, who gets masses of Yuletide cookies for it. J Happy Yule to those of you who celebrate!
It was quiet in the dining room, no one daring to move even as the soft ‘plop’ of falling dessert made Mark twitch. The air was redolent of cinnamon and citrus, warm smells that were meant to be comforting and appetizing but at the moment, were only serving to make Mark queasy. “Who,” he began, then paused, closing his eyes as a glop of the former pudding hit his glasses.
“I’ll just…go get a towel,” Storm said stiltedly, backing out of the dining room through the door to the kitchen, her brows drawn together and lips pursed in an expression that could have been anything from anger to amusement.
Unable to sit still any longer, Todd leaned over and whispered to Lance, “Dude, that didn’t *look * like pudding…” A sharp crack made him jump nearly out of his seat, Mark’s sudden movement, knocking over the tea cart, resounding through the cavernous room. “Uh oh…”
“A pudding,” Mark gritted out through clenched teeth, “is an unsweetened, baked or steamed dessert or simply the dessert course of a meal.”[1] He swiped a splatter of Christmas pudding off his shirtfront and exhaled noisily. A smoldering bit of raisin popped on the table cloth, making all of the mutants at the table shift uncomfortably.
The dining room looked like a war zone, if it had been a war that involved baked goods, tinsel and sweet potato latkes. The smell of burned sugar and pine mingled with the spicy scent of the desserts and candles. A tiny sniffle cut through the remaining silence, muffling the last glob of pudding falling to the highly polished wooden tabletop. “I believe,” Beast said after a brief hesitation, his fur matted with doughy goodness and his glasses smeared with sour cream, “that Mark is owed an apology.”
“I would be far more interested in an explanation myself,” Professor Xavier intoned from the kitchen doorway, remarkable unscathed save for a small splatter of fruitcake near his right ankle. Storm stood behind him, a towel clutched in her hands and her eyes wide with surprise.
“It looks worse from this angle,” she murmured, edging into the room. Christmas carols played softly from the overhead speakers and Kitty, muttering under her breath about how things never happened like this during Jewish holidays, moved to join Storm in the clean up.
Kurt rose to his feet, his eyes downcast as he twisted his tail gently in his hands. “It’s my fault,” he said softly. “I blew up the pudding…”
“You what now?” Mark gave up and pulled off his glasses, his attempts at cleaning them doing more harm than good. “How on earth did you…” He closed his eyes and counted to five. “Just…tell me…”
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[1] http://www.answers.com/topic/pudding