Shetland Fic: Tidings of Jumpers and Joy
Dec. 26th, 2024 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair ***
Title: Tidings of Jumpers and Joy
Author:kat_lair
Fandom: Shetland
Pairing: Duncan/Jimmy
Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Getting Together
Rating: T
Word count: 1,854
Summary: Duncan was having a crisis. He’d had crises before in his life, enough to need more than one hand to count them, but never because of something this ridiculous. Because of a jumper. A Christmas jumper at that.
Author notes: Happy Christmas topushkin666. This fic pushed my annual word count above 100K. A Christmas miracle! Unbetaed so if you spot a typo or grammar mistake you absolute should tell me about it.
Tidings of Jumpers and Joy on AO3
Duncan was having a crisis. He’d had crises before in his life, enough to need more than one hand to count them, but never because of something this ridiculous. Because of a jumper. A Christmas jumper at that.
But here he was, clutching what remained of his pint, leaning on the backdoor of the pub, from the outside, in the vain hope that the cold winter night would bring some sense. The wind was icy, blowing straight from the sea and bringing tiny flecks of snow with it. Duncan shivered, his jacket somewhere inside with the Lerwick’s movers and shakers. It was the town council’s Christmas party and everyone who was anyone was expected to turn up. Duncan normally quite enjoyed the occasion since his extraversion and love of people wasn’t just a business tactic, useful as it was for that purpose. Jimmy on the other hand…
Duncan remembered him grousing about ‘unnecessary glad-handing’ and having ‘better things to do with the taxpayers’ time’ every single year. But he showed up. Every single year.
Duncan drowned the last of his ale, tasteless with cold by now, and thumped the back of his head against the door, none too gently. Because this year wasn’t like the last. This year Duncan was single. This year Jimmy was too, both practically and more importantly emotionally, Fran’s memory finally just that, rather than something concrete, holding him back like they both knew she would’ve never wanted.
This year, Duncan had lived under the same roof as Jimmy for months. And he wasn’t planning on leaving either, not until Jimmy kicked him out on his arse.
Which might be sooner rather than later if Duncan didn’t get a hold of himself and work through his ridiculous, highly inconvenient Christmas jumper induced crisis fast.
It wasn’t even like he hadn’t seen Jimmy in silly Christmas jumpers before. They both had a collection of them, courtesy of Cassie who had carried on her mum’s tradition of humbling the men in her life admirably. Duncan was even wearing one of her gifts himself, his own jumper covered in little Christmas puddings.
The one Jimmy had showed up to the party wearing, however, was most definitely not something Cassie would’ve bought. He’d confirmed as much himself, in the face of the gleeful hilarity his outfit had caused as soon as he’d taken his jacket off.
“I lost a bet.” Jimmy was clearly embarrassed but not above seeing the funny side of it. “Though pretty sure Sandy and Tosh rigged it. Still,” he added with the familiar, stubborn lift of his chin, “bet’s a bet. And I gave my word.”
Jimmy’s forfeit had come in form of a Christmas jumper. It was relatively tame on the first glance, deep red with some modest gold applique on the front, not even a picture, just some text. Except on the second glance one would notice that the text spelled out: ‘I’m not the Santa, but you can still ask to sit in my lap.’
And then, on the third glance, one would, inevitably, notice the man inside the garment. At which point it was, as the saying went, game over.
Needless to say, Jimmy had not known peace since he he’d revealed the thrice cursed jumper. And neither had Duncan, though for different, if related, reasons. Jimmy had been hounded by a constant stream of people asking either precisely what the jumper suggested, or something equally seasonally suggestive. Most people were only joking of course, delighting in flustering D.I. Perez, but Duncan would bet good money some were entirely serious when they queried what the consequences of being on Jimmy’s naughty list were.
Duncan was not uninterested in the answer to that either, truth be told. He was also rather overcome by the sudden, though not unfamiliar, need to shove Jimmy into a nearest chair and climb into his lap, entirely without permission or invitation. Which is why he’d removed himself from the immediate risk zone. As a precaution.
“A Christmas jumper,” he muttered to himself, the empty back alley, and the night sky full of stars high above Lerwick. “For god’s sake.” It was just so… ridiculous. On several levels. Of course, he’d looked at Jimmy before and wondered. He had eyes, after all. And, well, of course years of getting to know him and reluctantly figuring out that he was, actually, as good a man as he seemed, weighed in there as well. Cassie called it their ‘enemies to friends’ storyline and whilst the first label was exaggerated, the second felt… inadequate. Especially this last year, after sharing a house and all the little everyday intimacies that came with that.
But Duncan was an adult, and thus perfectly capable of controlling his impulses, especially when following them might risk a whole lot more than just his own dignity. Or so he’d thought, until a stupid, jokey Christmas jumper had made his mouth water and his head flood with images of Jimmy sprawled in that old armchair of his with Duncan in his lap, maybe Jimmy in that damn sweater still, maybe Duncan naked and…
“Fuck.”
Okay. No. That was never going to happen. Duncan straightened up from his slump and slipped back into the pub. Inside, the revelry was in full swing, the line at the bar three deep and a group of people in the corner singing an enthusiastic, if somewhat offkey version of Santa Baby. Duncan deposited his empty glass on a table and carefully scanned the room. He finally found Jimmy sandwiched between Mrs and Ms Harlow, both members of several committees and by the look of it talking Jimmy’s ear off. He spotted Duncan and sent him a pleading ‘come save me’ look over the women’s shoulders but Duncan forced a grin onto his face, gave Jimmy a cheerful wave and headed for the exit. The best thing he could do now was to take himself home, away from temptation.
Of course, he conveniently forgot that the temptation was going to follow him home eventually.
Duncan had not made it beyond the sofa by the time Jimmy’s key rattled in the front door lock. The glass of whisky Duncan had poured himself sat untouched on the side table. He hadn’t been able to decide if getting drunk would make things better or worse. As Jimmy walked in, Duncan got up to fetch another glass and silently poured him a drink, setting it down next to his. Jimmy made an approving hum and collapsed onto the sofa with a deep sigh.
The fireplace caught the golden text in his jumper, making it almost glow, impossible to ignore.
“So,” Duncan said, against all his better judgement, “you survived the Harrises.”
“Barely,” Jimmy scoffed. “And no thanks to you. But then there was Councilman Crosswell, Mrs Halcrow from the florists’ and even that young fella behind the bar, what was his name… Rick? Ray? Something like that. I survived but I may be scarred for life. Remind me never to bet against Sandy and Tosh again.”
Duncan laughed because that’s what was expected of him. He laughed even though he didn’t find the thought of all of those people fawning over Jimmy even remotely funny, leaning into his space, trailing fingers over his arms, dropping suggestive comments as if those kinds of tactics would ever work on a man like him.
Jimmy raised his eyebrows at the sound and Duncan couldn’t blame him. His awkward guffaw was obviously fake. “All those offers, and there’s no one you want to sit in your lap?” When in trouble, bluff. Duncan was very good at that. He tsk’ed and risked glancing directly at Jimmy under the guise of sending him a teasing grin, hoping it didn’t look as brittle as it felt.
Jimmy was looking right back, expression inscrutable. “There is someone,” he said, slowly, gaze never wavering from Duncan’s.
It was like a hot stone lodging itself in his chest, burning and heavy. “Oh.” Duncan took a long gulp of his drink, eyes firmly on the glass. “Oh. I see. That’s… Good. Good for you, Jimmy, really.” The false joviality in his tone was more discordant than the earlier carol singing of drunken Lerwick councillors. “Haven’t I’ve always said that you should—”
“Duncan.” Jimmy’s fingers eased the glass out of Duncan’s grip before wrapping themselves around his arm, tugging him around until avoiding looking at Jimmy was no longer an option.
“What?” Duncan asked, feeling raw, voice dangerously close to breaking. “I just meant that—”
He wasn’t sure what he’d meant, mouth working on defensive autopilot, but Jimmy’s hand cupping the side of his face cut him off effectively enough that it didn’t matter.
“There is someone,” Jimmy repeated, eyes searching Duncan’s. “But he left the pub before I could talk to him.”
Duncan blinked, heart kicking into overtime. There was no way… Jimmy couldn’t be saying what it sounded like he was saying. But the thumb sweeping over his cheekbone suggested otherwise.
“So, I followed him home.” Jimmy’s smile was fond and a little nervous. “To tell him that, in the off chance he was interested in…” Awkwardly, he gestured at the words over his chest. “Well, he wouldn’t have to ask. He was always welcome.”
Duncan was distantly aware that his mouth was hanging open in shock, eyes wide, probably sporting the dumbest fucking expression but it couldn’t be helped. Allowances had to made. Duncan’s world had, after all, just experienced a rather fundamental shift. It took a few seconds but eventually his brain re-engaged.
“Right,” he said. “Okay then.” He put his hands on Jimmy’s shoulders and firmly pushed him away, back toward the sofa cushions.
Duncan could see the surprise on Jimmy’s face but gave it no chance to morph into mistaken dismay or disappointment. “In that case,” he murmured, twisting onto his knees, throwing a leg over Jimmy’s and settling onto his lap. “Happy Christmas to me.”
Jimmy huffed at the weight, but his hands came up to circle Duncan’s waist immediately and the smile spreading over his features was all teeth and incredulous delight.
“I think that’s my line,” he said, grip tightening in a way that made Duncan’s breath hitch.
“We can fight about it later.”
“Oh? You got something better in mind for now?”
“Yes,” Duncan answered primly, though the effect was rather spoiled by the grin threatening to break free. “Right now I'd rather unwrap my Christmas present.”
Jimmy groaned, rolling his eyes. “That was terrible.”
“This jumper is terrible,” Duncan said, gathering the hem of it in his grip. “I’m going to need you to take it off immediately. For peace and goodwill, or something.”
Jimmy barked a laugh. “Oh well, better do it quick then.” He lifted his arms up expectantly. “I think we’re long overdue some comfort and joy.”
It was Duncan’s turn to laugh. And he didn’t really stop for the rest of the night, not even when the jumpers came off and the two of them got distracted by their own private Christmas celebrations, full of comfort and joy indeed.
***
Title: Tidings of Jumpers and Joy
Author:
kat_lair Fandom: Shetland
Pairing: Duncan/Jimmy
Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Getting Together
Rating: T
Word count: 1,854
Summary: Duncan was having a crisis. He’d had crises before in his life, enough to need more than one hand to count them, but never because of something this ridiculous. Because of a jumper. A Christmas jumper at that.
Author notes: Happy Christmas to
pushkin666. This fic pushed my annual word count above 100K. A Christmas miracle! Unbetaed so if you spot a typo or grammar mistake you absolute should tell me about it.Tidings of Jumpers and Joy on AO3
Duncan was having a crisis. He’d had crises before in his life, enough to need more than one hand to count them, but never because of something this ridiculous. Because of a jumper. A Christmas jumper at that.
But here he was, clutching what remained of his pint, leaning on the backdoor of the pub, from the outside, in the vain hope that the cold winter night would bring some sense. The wind was icy, blowing straight from the sea and bringing tiny flecks of snow with it. Duncan shivered, his jacket somewhere inside with the Lerwick’s movers and shakers. It was the town council’s Christmas party and everyone who was anyone was expected to turn up. Duncan normally quite enjoyed the occasion since his extraversion and love of people wasn’t just a business tactic, useful as it was for that purpose. Jimmy on the other hand…
Duncan remembered him grousing about ‘unnecessary glad-handing’ and having ‘better things to do with the taxpayers’ time’ every single year. But he showed up. Every single year.
Duncan drowned the last of his ale, tasteless with cold by now, and thumped the back of his head against the door, none too gently. Because this year wasn’t like the last. This year Duncan was single. This year Jimmy was too, both practically and more importantly emotionally, Fran’s memory finally just that, rather than something concrete, holding him back like they both knew she would’ve never wanted.
This year, Duncan had lived under the same roof as Jimmy for months. And he wasn’t planning on leaving either, not until Jimmy kicked him out on his arse.
Which might be sooner rather than later if Duncan didn’t get a hold of himself and work through his ridiculous, highly inconvenient Christmas jumper induced crisis fast.
It wasn’t even like he hadn’t seen Jimmy in silly Christmas jumpers before. They both had a collection of them, courtesy of Cassie who had carried on her mum’s tradition of humbling the men in her life admirably. Duncan was even wearing one of her gifts himself, his own jumper covered in little Christmas puddings.
The one Jimmy had showed up to the party wearing, however, was most definitely not something Cassie would’ve bought. He’d confirmed as much himself, in the face of the gleeful hilarity his outfit had caused as soon as he’d taken his jacket off.
“I lost a bet.” Jimmy was clearly embarrassed but not above seeing the funny side of it. “Though pretty sure Sandy and Tosh rigged it. Still,” he added with the familiar, stubborn lift of his chin, “bet’s a bet. And I gave my word.”
Jimmy’s forfeit had come in form of a Christmas jumper. It was relatively tame on the first glance, deep red with some modest gold applique on the front, not even a picture, just some text. Except on the second glance one would notice that the text spelled out: ‘I’m not the Santa, but you can still ask to sit in my lap.’
And then, on the third glance, one would, inevitably, notice the man inside the garment. At which point it was, as the saying went, game over.
Needless to say, Jimmy had not known peace since he he’d revealed the thrice cursed jumper. And neither had Duncan, though for different, if related, reasons. Jimmy had been hounded by a constant stream of people asking either precisely what the jumper suggested, or something equally seasonally suggestive. Most people were only joking of course, delighting in flustering D.I. Perez, but Duncan would bet good money some were entirely serious when they queried what the consequences of being on Jimmy’s naughty list were.
Duncan was not uninterested in the answer to that either, truth be told. He was also rather overcome by the sudden, though not unfamiliar, need to shove Jimmy into a nearest chair and climb into his lap, entirely without permission or invitation. Which is why he’d removed himself from the immediate risk zone. As a precaution.
“A Christmas jumper,” he muttered to himself, the empty back alley, and the night sky full of stars high above Lerwick. “For god’s sake.” It was just so… ridiculous. On several levels. Of course, he’d looked at Jimmy before and wondered. He had eyes, after all. And, well, of course years of getting to know him and reluctantly figuring out that he was, actually, as good a man as he seemed, weighed in there as well. Cassie called it their ‘enemies to friends’ storyline and whilst the first label was exaggerated, the second felt… inadequate. Especially this last year, after sharing a house and all the little everyday intimacies that came with that.
But Duncan was an adult, and thus perfectly capable of controlling his impulses, especially when following them might risk a whole lot more than just his own dignity. Or so he’d thought, until a stupid, jokey Christmas jumper had made his mouth water and his head flood with images of Jimmy sprawled in that old armchair of his with Duncan in his lap, maybe Jimmy in that damn sweater still, maybe Duncan naked and…
“Fuck.”
Okay. No. That was never going to happen. Duncan straightened up from his slump and slipped back into the pub. Inside, the revelry was in full swing, the line at the bar three deep and a group of people in the corner singing an enthusiastic, if somewhat offkey version of Santa Baby. Duncan deposited his empty glass on a table and carefully scanned the room. He finally found Jimmy sandwiched between Mrs and Ms Harlow, both members of several committees and by the look of it talking Jimmy’s ear off. He spotted Duncan and sent him a pleading ‘come save me’ look over the women’s shoulders but Duncan forced a grin onto his face, gave Jimmy a cheerful wave and headed for the exit. The best thing he could do now was to take himself home, away from temptation.
Of course, he conveniently forgot that the temptation was going to follow him home eventually.
Duncan had not made it beyond the sofa by the time Jimmy’s key rattled in the front door lock. The glass of whisky Duncan had poured himself sat untouched on the side table. He hadn’t been able to decide if getting drunk would make things better or worse. As Jimmy walked in, Duncan got up to fetch another glass and silently poured him a drink, setting it down next to his. Jimmy made an approving hum and collapsed onto the sofa with a deep sigh.
The fireplace caught the golden text in his jumper, making it almost glow, impossible to ignore.
“So,” Duncan said, against all his better judgement, “you survived the Harrises.”
“Barely,” Jimmy scoffed. “And no thanks to you. But then there was Councilman Crosswell, Mrs Halcrow from the florists’ and even that young fella behind the bar, what was his name… Rick? Ray? Something like that. I survived but I may be scarred for life. Remind me never to bet against Sandy and Tosh again.”
Duncan laughed because that’s what was expected of him. He laughed even though he didn’t find the thought of all of those people fawning over Jimmy even remotely funny, leaning into his space, trailing fingers over his arms, dropping suggestive comments as if those kinds of tactics would ever work on a man like him.
Jimmy raised his eyebrows at the sound and Duncan couldn’t blame him. His awkward guffaw was obviously fake. “All those offers, and there’s no one you want to sit in your lap?” When in trouble, bluff. Duncan was very good at that. He tsk’ed and risked glancing directly at Jimmy under the guise of sending him a teasing grin, hoping it didn’t look as brittle as it felt.
Jimmy was looking right back, expression inscrutable. “There is someone,” he said, slowly, gaze never wavering from Duncan’s.
It was like a hot stone lodging itself in his chest, burning and heavy. “Oh.” Duncan took a long gulp of his drink, eyes firmly on the glass. “Oh. I see. That’s… Good. Good for you, Jimmy, really.” The false joviality in his tone was more discordant than the earlier carol singing of drunken Lerwick councillors. “Haven’t I’ve always said that you should—”
“Duncan.” Jimmy’s fingers eased the glass out of Duncan’s grip before wrapping themselves around his arm, tugging him around until avoiding looking at Jimmy was no longer an option.
“What?” Duncan asked, feeling raw, voice dangerously close to breaking. “I just meant that—”
He wasn’t sure what he’d meant, mouth working on defensive autopilot, but Jimmy’s hand cupping the side of his face cut him off effectively enough that it didn’t matter.
“There is someone,” Jimmy repeated, eyes searching Duncan’s. “But he left the pub before I could talk to him.”
Duncan blinked, heart kicking into overtime. There was no way… Jimmy couldn’t be saying what it sounded like he was saying. But the thumb sweeping over his cheekbone suggested otherwise.
“So, I followed him home.” Jimmy’s smile was fond and a little nervous. “To tell him that, in the off chance he was interested in…” Awkwardly, he gestured at the words over his chest. “Well, he wouldn’t have to ask. He was always welcome.”
Duncan was distantly aware that his mouth was hanging open in shock, eyes wide, probably sporting the dumbest fucking expression but it couldn’t be helped. Allowances had to made. Duncan’s world had, after all, just experienced a rather fundamental shift. It took a few seconds but eventually his brain re-engaged.
“Right,” he said. “Okay then.” He put his hands on Jimmy’s shoulders and firmly pushed him away, back toward the sofa cushions.
Duncan could see the surprise on Jimmy’s face but gave it no chance to morph into mistaken dismay or disappointment. “In that case,” he murmured, twisting onto his knees, throwing a leg over Jimmy’s and settling onto his lap. “Happy Christmas to me.”
Jimmy huffed at the weight, but his hands came up to circle Duncan’s waist immediately and the smile spreading over his features was all teeth and incredulous delight.
“I think that’s my line,” he said, grip tightening in a way that made Duncan’s breath hitch.
“We can fight about it later.”
“Oh? You got something better in mind for now?”
“Yes,” Duncan answered primly, though the effect was rather spoiled by the grin threatening to break free. “Right now I'd rather unwrap my Christmas present.”
Jimmy groaned, rolling his eyes. “That was terrible.”
“This jumper is terrible,” Duncan said, gathering the hem of it in his grip. “I’m going to need you to take it off immediately. For peace and goodwill, or something.”
Jimmy barked a laugh. “Oh well, better do it quick then.” He lifted his arms up expectantly. “I think we’re long overdue some comfort and joy.”
It was Duncan’s turn to laugh. And he didn’t really stop for the rest of the night, not even when the jumpers came off and the two of them got distracted by their own private Christmas celebrations, full of comfort and joy indeed.
***
no subject
on 2024-12-27 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-12-28 05:43 pm (UTC)Extraversion as in the personality trait: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extraversion_and_introversion
no subject
on 2024-12-29 09:15 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-12-28 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-12-28 05:46 pm (UTC)