Title: Christmas Cheer
Rating: K+ bordering on T-ish? Maybe?
Warnings for: An insistent, wine-drinking, squishy sibling. A cutely tipsy Jazz. Possibly gratuitous amounts of It's a Wonderful Life. Mistletoe and its inevitable effects. Mentions of lap dancing (For the love of God, keep Sunfall away from the high grade!). Prowl Being Fuzzy™. Oh and also? This one isn't exactly short. *rolls eyes* I tried, I swear I did, but… *sigh*
Date: December 24, 1999. (Christmas in August! Yippee!)
The Chase family, Sunfall had learned from Claire, had many traditions. Like, for instance, there was the dreaded 40th birthday roast, when friends and family gathered and made good-natured though rather merciless fun of the "victim" during a celebratory dinner. Even though Chip was still nine years away from his roast, he was already dreading it, mostly because he knew that certain Autobots would show up, namely a certain engineer who had perfect recall, a gift for drama that sometimes bled into hyperbole, and all sorts of embarrassing stories to relay.
Most of the Chase family's traditions, though, revolved around the major holidays. Christmas Eve was the biggest of them. The entire Chase clan – which was a large one; Claire's father was the second child in a brood of nine – gathered at Claire's grandparents' house for dinner, drinks, conversation, and games and small gifts and such for the younger generations.
This, of course, would be the first such Chase family Christmas celebration that would lack Claire. She'd been melancholy and more or less silent in Sunfall's head off and on since just prior to Thanksgiving, the first major family gathering she'd missed, but especially so all during the past week…and Sunfall had no idea what to do about it. Claire loved Christmas, she knew, but now…
It wasn't as if she could attend the family gathering, though a notion did run through Sunfall's mind to drive to Claire's grandparents' house this evening and then park herself outside to observe from afar. But then she'd ultimately decided that doing that would be more depressing than just staying in, ensconced in her quarters at Autobot Headquarters.
There were certain Autobots who'd adopted Christmas as a holiday. They didn't know or care, really, what the holiday was all about. For the Autobots, Christmas was mostly seen as an excuse to have a party, and in the middle of a war, any excuse to party was a good one. So, there was usually a Christmas party every year at Autobot Headquarters, open to anyone who wasn't on duty, and it was quite popular and usually ended up being quite loud. Sunfall had thought about attending but had ultimately decided against that, too, thinking that perhaps it would only disturb and further sadden Claire. She'd been difficult enough to deal with these past six weeks or so, and Sunfall didn't want to give her any reason to slide even farther into a funk.
So, Sunfall had decided that staying in and "enjoying" some peace and quiet was her best option. Her only concession to the date on the calendar was that she queued up some classic Christmas music, letting the voices of the likes of Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole wash soothingly over her. Occasionally, she hummed or sang along, all unconsciously.
She was just thinking about finding something to read when there was a soft knock at her door. Frowning, figuring that it was someone who'd come to cajole her into coming to the Autobot Christmas party, she pretended that she hadn't heard it. But then it sounded again, more insistently this time. And again. Sighing in frustration, knowing that if she didn't answer someone would eventually end up employing a security override to make sure that she was all right, Sunfall went to the door, put on an aggressively annoyed face, palmed the control to open the door and, as it slid quietly open, growled, "What?!"
There was no one there, or so it appeared, at least, until a small voice sounded from the vicinity of her knee.
"Um," the voice said uncertainly, "down here."
Sunfall looked down.
"Chip!" she exclaimed, instantly identifying her visitor. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at—"
Chip waved her off.
"I begged off," he explained nonchalantly. "I wasn't really in the mood to go, anyway. Between Claire and Uncle Charlie passing away this year…ugh. Gram will be in full-on drama queen mode, and you know how that is. That's not something I want to deal with right now."
Sunfall frowned down at him, almost in disapproval.
"You should be with family," she said. "It's Christmas."
Chip looked up at her, his expression mutinous as well as clearly saying, "Duh, Claire." She…Claire…had seen the look a million times before.
"If I'm with you, I am with family," Chip announced determinedly, dark blue eyes flashing defiantly, daring Sunfall to argue.
"Chip, I'm n—"
"Don't start with me, young lady!" Chip interrupted, waggling a scolding finger up at Sunfall. "I know you're not all Claire, but I also know that some of her is in there with you. And if I know her, she's making you completely miserable right about now, and you don't deserve that. And I'm not gonna leave you and my bratty baby sister all alone on the first Christmas after…after…"
Sunfall could feel Claire smiling as Chip's voice trailed off. She let the smile show on her face.
"Thanks," she said quietly, genuinely touched.
"You're welcome," Chip responded, smiling warmly back at her. "Can I come in now?" he asked. Then he rummaged around in the open duffel bag laid across his lap, as if he needed to pay some sort of entrance fee. "I've got It's a Wonderful Life. Miracle on 34th Street. The Santa Clause. Oh, and the original animated Grinch Who Stole Christmas. That should keep us occupied for a while. I've got a fabulous merlot, too. Not that you'd be interested in that, but I'm interested in it."
He pulled the bottle of wine in question out of his duffel, carefully uncorked it, and then wedged it securely between his thigh and the side of his chair to let it breathe for a while. Sunfall chuckled and stepped aside, allowing Claire's brother to propel his wheelchair into her quarters.
"I dunno," Sunfall answered speculatively as Chip wheeled in. "Might be interesting to see if wine has any effect…"
Chip paused, his brain instantly considering the notion since it was one he'd never contemplated before. He weighed the way that Cybertronian bodies processed imbibed chemicals against the average amount of ethanol in a liter of wine and then contemplated the simple chemical bonds that held together the ethanol molecule and the amount of energy that each molecule released when processed. Seconds later, he came to the conclusion that it might be possible for a Transformer to get some kind of a buzz from wine, but… "Sunfall, you'd probably have to drink a vat of the stuff. I only brought one little bottle."
"How inconsiderate," she sniffed, mock-offended, and then she snickered and headed off to a corner of her quarters that featured a small storage compartment. "Never fear, though, because I've got…" she added, as she rummaged around and emerged triumphantly with a glowing cube, "high grade!"
Chip gave her an alarmed, wide-eyed look.
"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked. "I mean, the last time you drank that stuff, you—"
"Gave Prowl a lap dance," Sunfall finished, cheerfully agreeable. "I know. I've been told many, many times that I put on quite the show. I almost wish that I could remember it…"
Chip snickered at that.
"Ah, but have you been told that Prowl wasn't exactly complaining about it?" he asked with a wide grin.
"He denies it vehemently," Sunfall responded evenly as she fiddled with the cube of high grade, measuring out a tiny portion of it into another container.
"Oh, he did not offer a single complaint!" Chip insisted. "I was there! I saw! He was enjoying it!"
"You were sloshed, too," Sunfall countered. "You're not an entirely reliable witness. No one there was a reliable witness in that sense. So, the truth might never be known." She paused, considering, then added with a resigned sigh, "Unless Red Alert feels a need to blackmail me or Prowl one day, that is." Chip laughed as Sunfall continued, "In any case, I learned my lesson: a little dab of this stuff will do ya. Or at least it'll do me. Some guys can put this stuff away like there's no tomorrow…"
Chip snorted.
"Drug tolerance is a wonderful thing," he observed.
Sunfall grinned and nodded in agreement.
"Speaking of which," she said, gesturing at the vidscreen hanging on the wall, "put in It's a Wonderful Life first."
"Oh God!" Chip responded dramatically, rolling his eyes yet at the same time amiably aiming his chair for the DVD player, which was thankfully within his reach. "I knew you were gonna say that. Nice to know you're still an utter sap."
"It's Christmas," Sunfall said mock-defensively. "'Tis the season for sap."
And with that, she vaulted over and then settled cross-legged on her couch with her pinch of high grade, and Chip leaned back comfortably in his chair and took his first swig of merlot, straight from the bottle. Human and Autobot settled in companionably to watch the movie, which had always been one of Claire's favorites.
Clarence the guardian angel had just appeared in Bedford Falls when there was another insistent knock at Sunfall's door. Frowning, Sunfall paused the movie and went to see who'd be bugging her at ten at night on Christmas Eve.
When the door slid aside this time, it revealed three Autobots.
"If Sunfall will not come to the party," Wheeljack intoned gravely before Sunfall could say anything, "then the party will come to Sunfall."
"We brought Prowl!" Jazz cheerfully announced, his unnaturally bright visor indicative of a hefty amount of high grade coursing through his systems, before Sunfall could say anything. "I mean, a present!" Jazz corrected himself. "I mean, a present that isn't Prowl! I mean—"
"You mean you had better quit while you're ahead," Prowl deadpanned, reaching around Wheeljack to give Jazz a friendly smack to the back of the head to shut him up. He gave Sunfall an amused look. "But we do have a present that isn't me," he added, indicating a large box that he carried tucked under one arm. It was wrapped in shimmering gold foil and adorned with a red velvet bow. Prowl flashed Sunfall a small but completely sober smile that warmed Sunfall and that she found herself returning. Then she stepped aside and gestured for the three Autobots to come in.
"Hiya, Chip!" Wheeljack greeted, cheerfully surprised, as soon as he noticed the human's presence. The engineer hunkered down next to Chip's wheelchair to have a chat while Jazz sidled up to Sunfall and pressed something small and green into her hand. Sunfall looked down at the greenery in her hand, realized it was mistletoe, and gave Jazz a querying look.
"Put that to good use," Jazz not-quite-whispered at her and then aimed a significant glance at Prowl, who was at that moment gracefully and obliviously settling himself on her couch to greet Chip as well. Sunfall's gaze slid over to him and then returned to regard Jazz appraisingly.
"You're evil," Sunfall decided, fighting to hold back a chortle.
"Yeah, yeah," Jazz agreed off-handedly. "So everyone says. Just change out my sigil right now and—Oooh! It's a Wonderful Life!" he interrupted himself, instantly and distractedly flitting on to the next subject as he noticed the image that was frozen on Sunfall's vidscreen. "I love this movie!" he enthusiastically announced.
Jazz snatched the remote out of Sunfall's hand and then scuttled away to settle himself on the floor in front of the vidscreen. He stopped the movie and then restarted it from the beginning. Sunfall just stared after him, amused, and then went to go join Prowl on the couch.
* * *
Later, once the movie was over, Sunfall appraisingly regarded the large box that was laid across her lap and then looked back up at Wheeljack.
"But I didn't get you anything," she protested. "I didn't get anyone anything."
Wheeljack chuckled and exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Chip, at which Sunfall frowned suspiciously. When the two of them got up to something together, the results could be…unpredictable, to say the least.
"Just shut up and open it, will ya?" Wheeljack insisted.
Sighing in defeat, Sunfall tore into the foil wrapping with the glee of a small child, only to reveal…a plain cardboard box. Which was sealed, practically hermetically, with duct tape. Wheeljack's work, obviously; he loved the stuff and the local Home Depot was quite happy to keep him well-supplied.
"Let me guess," Sunfall said with a grin. "When I finally get this one open, there'll just be a slightly smaller box inside."
Jazz grinned up at her from his position on the floor at her feet, propped up on his elbows.
"Now would we be that cruel?" he asked, mock-innocently.
"You, Jazz?" Sunfall responded. "You'd be twice as cruel as that."
While Jazz pouted exaggeratedly, Wheeljack chuckled.
"You'll just have to open it and find out," he said quietly to Sunfall, merriment dancing in his eyes.
So, Sunfall began to claw at the duct tape. A few minutes later, she'd managed to free the top flap of the box, lifting it warily and peeking inside.
"Oh my God!" she gasped reflexively, one hand flying up to cover her mouth in an entirely human gesture of shock as she gazed at the gleaming gift within. "Wha… How?" she intelligently asked, leveling a wide-eyed gaze on Wheeljack.
Wheeljack shrugged modestly.
"Prowl told me that you were missing playing and wondered if there might be anything we could do about that," he said. "So it's really his idea."
At that, Sunfall turned her head and gave Prowl a very long and very appreciative look.
"Obviously," Wheeljack was continuing meanwhile, watching the rather intense look that the two were sharing in near-paternal doting amusement, "a standard violin wouldn't be…uh, practical anymore, so I poked around a bit to see what I could come up with and…" His voice trailed off with another shrug. "Well, it was a nice break from building weapons of mass destruction," he concluded.
Sunfall tore her gaze away from Prowl's so that she could turn back to Wheeljack, smiling at him beatifically before she reverently lifted the shiny, black, scaled-up but very light violin from the protective materials that Wheeljack had carefully packed it in. She gave its shiny silver E string a tentative, experimental pluck.
Given the instrument's size, she'd expected the pitch that emerged from it to be several octaves lower than it should be, but somehow the plucked string resonated powerfully and very richly at E6, precisely the right E for the highest string on a violin. It was also tuned, so her perfect pitch told her, exactly to the cent. The echoing vibrations resonated strongly through the instrument, transferred themselves to the leg against which she'd braced it, and then thrummed through the rest of her body in a way that they could never have resonated through Claire's denser and organically human body. Sunfall closed her eyes in appreciation and shivered at the sensation. Then, curiously and blindly, she cycled down through the A-, D-, and G-strings, each also perfectly tuned and each setting off the same reaction, and then delicately back up again to the E. And then she opened her eyes and stared at Wheeljack with undisguised wonder.
"How?" she asked again.
"I'll tell ya all about it…later," Wheeljack answered, waving her off impatiently. "Just play something, will ya?"
"I don't have—" Sunfall began to protest.
Silently, his eyes bright, Prowl nudged her to get her attention and then handed Sunfall a matching bow, black stick and black hair. He'd apparently had it hidden on him somewhere. Her hand brushed lightly against his as Sunfall took the bow from Prowl and their gazes locked again for a significant moment.
"Play," Prowl agreed softly, giving her an encouraging nod and a small smile.
Sunfall drew in an uncertain breath.
"It's been so long…" she demurred. "And this is a lot big—"
"It's precisely scaled to match your…Claire's favorite violin," Chip put in, deflecting Sunfall's argument before she could fully voice it. "The one she used for quartets. I brought it over for 'Jack to scan. And you should have an analogue of Claire's muscle memory, only yours shouldn't have faded with time, so—"
"So no more excuses!" Jazz called out impatiently from his position on the floor, now sprawled with the back of his head pillowed on his interlaced hands. "Play something, already!"
Giving in, Sunfall sighed an "all right" and then stood up, cradling the violin against her, her hand unconsciously gripping the bow properly. Stepping carefully over Jazz, Sunfall rummaged through Claire's memories for a moment, searching for a piece that would run the gamut of the violin's range, to give her new toy an accurate test drive. Settling on Mendelssohn's E-minor concerto, she raised the instrument, and let Claire take over. She ran flawlessly, more flawlessly than she'd ever played the same passages when she'd been human, through the difficult opening bravura of the first movement and then through the first minute or so of the cadenza. The note that she ended on was a very high harmonic, delicate and so high that it teased the upper limit of human hearing capacity. It rang on and on, resonating through the body of the instrument and then resounding through Sunfall's own body.
That, she reflected, was going to take some getting used to.
"Whoa," Jazz responded as the final note continued to ring, the vibrations flowing through him, as well. His voice was drowsy now, though, the high grade starting to catch up to him. Sunfall suspected she was going to have a floor guest for the night.
Reverently, Sunfall lowered the violin and then stared anew at Wheeljack, who'd been listening appreciatively.
"Wow," she said, momentarily speechless otherwise as she stared at the violin. "Wheeljack, this is…is…"
"Amazing," Prowl put in. Except that he was looking at Sunfall more than he was looking at the violin that she was holding. Sunfall noticed, and she flashed him a small, pleased smile.
* * *
"Looks like you have two guests for the night," Prowl commented at the end of the evening, which had featured Sunfall further testing out her new toy as well as a viewing of The Grinch, upon which Chip had insisted before he'd practically passed out in his chair, three-quarters of his bottle of wine gone. Now, Prowl was staring in amusement at Jazz sprawled on the floor and then at Chip slumped down in his chair, mouth agape and breathing heavily but steadily.
"Apparently so," Sunfall answered, gazing fondly at the two of them. She broke her gaze only when Prowl shifted his weight…nervously? She turned back to him questioningly.
"I…have something else for you," Prowl announced quickly, before Sunfall could say anything, as if he wanted to get it over with.
He was definitely nervous, Sunfall decided, which for him was a very rare condition; usually he was the most collected individual that she knew, unflappable in just about any situation. She watched him now in amusement that she couldn't quite hide as he popped open a small compartment in his forearm and withdrew a small envelope, which he then handed unceremoniously to her.
Frowning, Sunfall carefully opened the small envelope and fished out its contents: Two small rectangles of ivory cardstock. Squinting at the tiny, black and gold embossed printing on them, she realized that they were tickets for the symphony's gala New Years' Eve concert. The one that had been sold out since before Claire had died. The one that, this year, featured a few soloists that she had really wanted to hear, including a good friend of Claire's, a pianist who had often served as her accompanist. And they were playing Beethoven's 7th symphony, her favorite. Sunfall uttered a happy squeak and then looked up in wonder at Prowl.
"Prowl, this has been sold out forever… How did you…?"
Prowl shrugged casually as Sunfall's question trailed off, but he seemed very pleased at her reaction to his gift.
"Jazz has surprising connections," he answered. "And he can be very…persuasive."
"Apparently so," Sunfall repeated, staring down in wonder at the tickets again. Then she looked back up at Prowl, amusement dancing in her eyes. "So…Are you asking me on a date then, Prowl?" she added playfully.
"I suppose I am," Prowl answered, giving Sunfall a slightly apprehensive look that she found utterly adorable. She crooked a finger at him, indicating that she wanted him to bend down a bit. Once he'd obliged, she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.
"It's a date," she whispered softly to him. "Thank you."
Prowl visibly relaxed as he murmured a reflexive, "You're welcome."
Sunfall suppressed an amused chuckle at his relief. They stared at each other intensely for a moment after that, once Prowl had straightened. He fidgeted, something that Sunfall never thought she'd see.
"Well," he said, trying but largely failing to be his decisive, in-control self. "It's very late, and I'm on duty in three hours. So I…should let you rest." And then he turned abruptly away from Sunfall, aiming for her door. This only seemed to galvanize Sunfall into action, though.
"Prowl, wait!" she called out, grabbing his arm to interrupt his departure. He turned back to her, a questioning expression on his face, and she added, "I…have something for you, too."
Opening the hand that wasn't still laying on his arm, she revealed the now crushed sprig of mistletoe that Jazz had given her earlier. Prowl stared down at it quizzically.
"Actually, it's more from Jazz," Sunfall was explaining. "He ordered me to put this to good use," she added, looking up at Prowl, her expression deadly serious, her gaze unwavering. "On you, specifically."
"Did he now?" Prowl responded in kind, sliding a speculative, narrow-eyed glance over at the deeply-somnolent saboteur sprawled in a most undignified fashion on Sunfall's floor.
"Mmm-hmm," Sunfall murmured. "And I wouldn't want to disobey him."
"Indeed not," Prowl agreed quietly, gravely, returning his thoughtful gaze to Sunfall. He bent down toward her again…and then stopped.
"What?" Sunfall asked him in confusion.
"Traditionally speaking, isn't that supposed to be hanging above us for us to be doing this?" he asked, a distinct teasing lilt to his voice for all that he was completely straight-faced. "Wouldn't want to break the rules now, would we?" he added.
Sunfall looked down at the mangled greenery in her hand. Then she snorted and tossed it carelessly aside before reaching up to snake her arms around Prowl's neck.
"Details," she said huskily, pulling him insistently down. "Don't trouble me with details, Prowl," she murmured as their lips met.
Long, long moments later, the kiss ended, both of them a little breathless, both sets of eyes bright. The word "slow" had become a constant mantra in Sunfall's mind whenever she was around Prowl. Much as she wanted to ignore that voice right at that very moment, wilder impulses shooting into her processors notions of dragging Prowl off to her berth, she was determined not to rush things. Prowl was just as determined to honor her wishes. So, he straightened determinedly, reluctantly let go of Sunfall, and stepped back from her.
"Good night," he said quietly. "And Merry Christmas."
"You, too, Prowl," Sunfall answered, smiling softly at him.
They stared at each other for a few moments longer, a mutual desire not to part crackling almost tangibly between them, but then Prowl determinedly turned and headed for the door. There was definite reluctance in his stride, though, and Sunfall heaved a long, wavering sigh as the door slid shut behind him.
"Now that was a kiss," a slightly-slurred voice suddenly announced, as if from nowhere, making Sunfall gasp and then jump rather impressively high. She turned in mid-air in order to land facing Chip, who was giving her a deeply amused and openly delighted look. "Wow," Chip added.
"God!" she responded. "Don't do that to me, Chip!"
"Sorry," he murmured. "I woke up and…whoa. It was apparently show time. There was tongue involved, even, if I'm not mistaken," he added, tsking merrily.
If she could have, Sunfall would have blushed furiously.
"Chiiiiip!" she protested weakly, sounding an awful lot like Claire when she had been about…twelve.
"Sunfaaaaaal," Chip responded in kind, and then he chortled for some reason known only to him, probably having something to do with his rather advanced state of inebriation. "Oooh, guess I'm not driving home tonight, huh?" he announced once he stopped snickering at himself, his words still slurring.
"You most certainly are not," Sunfall answered. "No more tragic car accidents allowed in this family."
"Mmmm," Chip murmured in agreement. "Give me a lift to the couch there, will ya?"
Sunfall smirked, carefully scooping the human out of his wheelchair and then settling him on her far-too-large-for-him couch, which so far was the only furniture in her quarters other than her berth. Chip murmured a thank-you as she put him down.
"So!" he said cheerfully but drowsily as he settled himself on her couch. "Is this another show that I'm not a reliable witness to, given the copious amounts of fabulous merlot I drank this evening?"
Sunfall smirked.
"Well," she said, "even if you aren't a reliable witness, I'm completely sober this time."
"Mmm," Chip agreed as he shifted on the couch and finally managed to find a marginally comfortable position. Levering himself up on his elbows, he was able to reach across and grab his down jacket off the back of his wheelchair to use as a pillow. "And so was Prowl," he observed sleepily as he stuffed the jacket behind his head and then closed his eyes. He sighed contentedly and then yawned ferociously as he began to drift off again, thanks to all that fabulous merlot. "Well, s'bout time, I say," he muttered with another sigh, just before his breathing evened out and he promptly went back to sleep.
"Me, too, Chip," Sunfall murmured, smiling to herself. "Merry Christmas to me."
After note: Hmmm… perhaps I should have put in a warning for the absolute horror that is A GIANT VIOLIN!! AAARRRRGH! (Says the cellist. ;) )
In any case, since this mentions pieces of music specifically, I haz linkz in case anyone's interested…
First, the 1st movement of Mendelssohn's E-minor Violin Concerto:
www. liberliber .it/ audioteca /m /mendelssohn /concerto_per_violino_in_mi_minore_op64 /cg /mendelss_con_op64_cg_01_alleg .mp3
Copypasta, remove spaces, blah, blah. This was recorded in 1954, so the sound quality isn't the best, but…Hey, it's free and legal. On the plus side, the orchestra is the mighty and more-awesome-than-you New York Phil and the soloist is Jascha Heifetz. Heifetz totally pwned this piece. The whole thing's awesomeness on wheels, but for those who might only be interested in the bits mentioned in the story: The opening bravura is the initial 50 seconds or so, before the full orchestra takes over the theme, and the cadenza starts at 5:54.
Second, Beethoven's 7th Symphony (which is not only Sunfall's favorite but mine…naturally!) in its entirety in one file recorded at the 2008 Beethoven Fest in Bonn, Germany, Beethoven's birthplace:
dw-world-od. streamfarm. net/ Events/ podcasts / en/ 1531_podcast_beethovenfest/ Beethoven_symphonie7 _adur _op9 2-podcas t-1531-3634217 .mp3
I challenge you to not be happy after listening just to the first movement of that thing. It ain't called Beethoven's "dance symphony" fer nothin'. But for the first movement's historically-long intro and the haunting second movement, it's a total whirling dervish, insanely fast. Makes it hellish but fun to play, I have to say…