Originally appeared on my Livejournal on November 26, 2009. Lovin' and Huggin' might be recognizable to those of you who have read the full length fic it eventually inspired.
*Gurgle* Could I have gotten a worse selection of songs for this one? Every song was either too short or too obscure or too sad in spots or all three or possibly I'm just suffering from turkey poisoning...
I feel like I need to explain most of them, which is not a good feeling.
Lovin' and Huggin' is not too bad, it's kind of a post-carousing anthem, so I imagined Sam kind of having a "what the hell did I do last night?" sort of morning where he wonders if he's put his foot in it too badly the night before. Would have been nice if the song were longer.
Hannah Jane is kind of an oddball entry, since the lyrics come off somewhere between a jealous friend watching someone who has hooked up with someone else or a jealous former romantic partner who etcetera, etcetera. It was meant more as a "Gee, I wonder if Havelock ever gets kind of jealous of Sam for having a supportive wife who loves him and a child and something outside of his job to live for" drabble, which was sort of sparked by the "You have your big girl and now you have your young one, too" lines at the beginning. It isn't meant to have Vimes/Vetinari connotations, thanks. It just seems like every once in a while, Vetinari is possibly a wee bit awestruck by the way the two of them turn into cornered wild animals on behalf of each other. From about The Fifth Elephant on, even the not terribly observant would note that it would take a very stupid or very foolhardy person to threaten ANY member of the Vimes family unless you are suicidal. The Mama Bear and Papa Wolf thing? They have it in spades.
*cough* Anyway. Vetinari. Ever wonder if he kind of pines for the love of a good woman who will also Prod Serious Buttock on his behalf?
St. Louis Blues was kind of a half-formed idea about Sam watching a high society couple everyone knows is having an affair and being a bit disgusted by the two-faced way Society politely ignores it, but the song was a tad short to develop it properly.
No Salt On Her Tail... is about letting a woman go if she wants to be free, testing her to see if she comes back and it's for real. Again, bah on you, song, for being so short.
Whiskey Before Breakfast is a perky bluegrass instrumental. Kind of sounds all happy and stuff. And has an interesting title. And is too short.
"Dinner Music" sounds like something that would be played at a high tone wedding reception. I rather like the idea of Sam panicking over all the cutlery.
Think kind of reminded me of Sybil at the beginning of Jingo, when she sort of serves notice (politely) that Sam isn't very present at home. Dang, Aretha sings fast.
They'll Need A Crane is lovely to begin with, but ends up rather badly and sadly, so let's just ignore the last bit of the lyrics, shall we? I did kind of like the idea of likening love or a relationship to a house that would be hard to knock down.
Anyway...
Lovin' and Huggin' by Hank Williams III
Sam looked into the mirror. Unfortunately, the face looking back was his, definitely his, and looking worse for the wear after last night. What he could remember of it. He splashed water on it. It didn't improve things. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he might have said that he would come to regret when he had been reminded of it.
"Sam, maybe the meetings wouldn't be such a bad idea," Fred said from the doorway.
"Maybe not," Sam admitted.
Heart by Pet Shop Boys
There it was again. That... squeezy thing... in the middle of his chest. And it was stupid. It was silly. Grown men don't have hearts that skip a beat just because they're with someone. Schoolboys did that. Or thought they did. With them, it was probably just hormones getting sappy anyway. My heart does NOT skip a beat when I see her coming. That would be a damned medical condition if it were happening, Sam scolded himself. And it's not.
Only it did. It was doing it right now.
Hannah Jane by Hootie and the Blowfish
There was, every once in a while, a moment when the Patrician found himself being jealous at being shut out. It didn't happen often, but it did happen. There was something of a touch of pride in what he had done, developing Vimes into what he was now. An effective and extremely useful man vital to the running of the city. But he hadn't done it all, and sometimes that rankled. It was a bit silly to feel shoved aside by two people, one of whom could barely toddle. Respect was nice, but every once in a while, Havelock Vetinari wondered what it might be like to be loved that fiercely, and to love back that way, too.
Give Me A Reason by The Corrs
Well, Sybil thought, folding her hands and looking at them. It wasn't as though she had gone into this naively, she had done it with her eyes wide open. That didn't make him any less... hardheaded, frustrating or confusing, though. She wasn't sure of what he wanted. For that matter, she wasn't sure he knew what he wanted. That was fine. She could be patient while he figured out what he wanted. Did she know what she wanted? She considered a moment.
Yes. She was positive of that. A reason. A reason to love him anyway.
St. Louis Blues by Cab Calloway
Sam muttered under his breath, around the cigar clenched in his teeth. He pulled at it like a lifeline. There are two people in this world I can't stand, he thought. A two-faced woman and a lying man. Now where did I hear that? My old sergeant, probably. There they are, nice as pie, cheating with each other, and we're supposed to pretend it's not happening. Very polite. Very civilized. I hate Society. It's full of liars and lies and lying liars telling big fat lies... As always, he mentally edited his new wife out of that one.
No Salt On Her Tail by The Mamas and The Papas
"I'm not a very nice man, Sybil," Sam spat. "You see the best bits. If that doesn't make you want to turn tail and run..." Shut up, shut up, shut up! What are you trying to do, you idiot? What are you trying to do? Run her off on purpose? The only decent thing that's happened to you in twenty years?
And the answer came back, Trying to make sure it's real, I suppose.
Whiskey Before Breakfast by Ramona Jones
Sam Vimes woke up in foreign territory. For starters, he wasn't hung over. He was in a big, soft bed in a guest bedroom, not in the Watch house. And he felt strangely light and happy. He hadn't gone to bed soused for the first time in a long time, mostly because he had had dinner here last night, and he had been trying to be on his best behavior. But he wasn't going to need whiskey before breakfast today.
Suite #1 in E-min "Dinner Music" for 2 Flutes 6. Air: un peu vivement
This wasn't good. He tended to panic when there was more than one fork, never mind when there were four and at least as many spoons and two glasses and a finger bowl. From somewhere across the room, a couple of twee little flutes and a string quartet dutifully sawed and twittered their way through something that was supposed to be relaxing and conducive to digestion. He was just about to see if he couldn't commit minor bodily injury with one of the three knives and be excused from the reception when Sybil came back from wherever she had been cornered and slipped into the seat next to him. "You just work your way from the outside in," she murmured, barely moving her lips.
"Oh," Sam said dully. He would hate to disappoint at his own wedding reception. They probably shot you in some corners for using the wrong fork.
"And get a move on. I want out of this ridiculous dress," she said with a wink.
Think by Aretha Franklin
Sybil watched the soup spoon, the clock, the soup spoon. Five minutes. Not a flicker away from the paperwork. It was like picking at a scab. You knew nothing good could come of it, but you did it anyway. "Your soup will be cold," Sybil said, "You've been holding that spoonful in the air for the last five minutes by the clock." Well, there was nothing for it. She needed to say something or it would build up until it came out all wrong and at the wrong time. Sam needed to think about how little he was home and how often he spent time at home doing things for the Watch. And what it was doing to her.
They'll Need A Crane by They Might Be Giants
Love was something like building houses, Sam Vimes thought. For starters, there's another thing I don't know the first thing about doing. Or maybe it was just like houses. You started with a general idea, something basic, like the simple lines a child would draw, with little box windows and little box doors, and you move into it, and get comfortable in it and tweak it a bit here and there and it settles around you like old, comfortable clothes, and if you're lucky, the foundation is a good one and you would need a metal ball the size of four trolls and a crane the size of the Tower of Art to tear it down by the time you half understood it.
"We should probably have a plasterer in before we repaint it," Sybil said, pulling the nursery door closed behind her.
"Probably," Sam agreed. Right now he would agree to remodeling the whole house. Maybe he just had.