![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perpetual_motionTitle: Not Quite Christmas Cheer
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law and Order: Special Victims Unit
Pairing: Huang/Stabler
Rating: G
Summary: George goes hunting for a present.
Dis: Not mine. Belongs to NBC, Wolf, and some other people.
Author's Note: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hobbit_feet, who requested the pairing. It was going to be a drabble, but the idea was just a little too big. Enjoy, darling.
Not Quite Christmas Cheer
By Perpetual Motion
The electronics department is intimidating. George stares at the rows of CDs and DVDs and wonders briefly when shiny objects in shiny cases became all the rage. He misses the smoothness of record covers and VHS tapes.
“Can I help you?” The sales clerk is perky, young, fresh-faced, and female. She is wearing Christmas tree earrings, and her nametag reads “Becki”. The ‘i’ is dotted with a yellow smiley face sticker.
Part of George wants her to go away. He wants to shuffle through this over processed department without an over-eager teenager hoping to make a commission. The other part of George is screaming for help too desperately to ignore. “I’m looking for a CD.”
“Okay,” Becky bobs her head, and her ponytail bounces twice. “Do you know what genre you’re looking for?”
“Some genre that won’t make my ears bleed.” George tries to smile. “It’s for my stepson. I can’t tell you what genre he listens to because I can barely recognize it as music.”
“All right. He listens to it loud. That’s a start.” Becki gestures for George to follow her into the depths of one of the aisles. “How old is your stepson?”
“Dick’s fourteen.” George, thanks to years as a psychiatrist, can’t stand anyone around him being referred to as a label. He doesn’t mind Elliot being called a detective, and he’s not bothered when people call him doctor, but Dick’s fourteen, and he wants to be known as himself. George tries to help him any way he can, even if Dick’s not around.
“If he likes his music loud, he’d probably like some punk. We’ve got the latest Blink 182 and the new album from The Clash,” Becki looks at George. “Have you thought about a gift card?”
“No gift card.” The impersonal nature of gift cards bothers George. It’s a cop-out to putting actual thought into a gift. It’s mean-spirited, in a way. “I want him to know I’ve put some thought into this.”
Becki nods, and her ponytail bounces again. “Cool. I get it. You’re trying to bond.”
Somehow, George manages not to flinch at her sudden moment of psychotherapy. “Yeah, pretty much.” He maneuvers around Becki and works his way down the row of punk titles. He breathes a little easier when Becki doesn’t try to follow. Six feet from where he started, George sees a title card that reads ‘Ramones’. Suddenly, there’s a ray of hope. George flips through the titles quickly. His fingers close around ‘Mania’, and he thinks he’ll make it out of electronics alive.
“Did you find something?” Becki is straightening CDs a few feet from George’s elbow. George can tell it’s pure busywork.
“I think so.” He flips the album over and reads the song list. He hums a few bars of every song before nodding to himself and handing it to Becki. “He doesn’t have it.”
“You’re sure?” Becki turns the CD face-up and inspects the cover. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard these guys.”
Before George can launch into a lecture about The Ramones, their place in punk, and how ashamed Becki and her ponytail should be for not knowing the history of punk, his cell rings. “This is Dr. Huang.” George doesn’t miss the sidelong glance Becki gives him.
“Hey, where are you?” Elliot’s voice is confused and irritated. “If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to become a Scrooge.”
George smiles. “I’m paying in the electronics department. I’ll meet you outside in five minutes.”
“Great,” Elliot sounds relieved. “Bye.”
“Bye,” George disconnects and slips his phone back into his pocket. He uses the last of the smile Elliot caused to thank Becki. When he meets Elliot out front, he drops a five into the Salvation Army bucket and counts down the hours until December twenty-sixth.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law and Order: Special Victims Unit
Pairing: Huang/Stabler
Rating: G
Summary: George goes hunting for a present.
Dis: Not mine. Belongs to NBC, Wolf, and some other people.
Author's Note: For
hobbit_feet, who requested the pairing. It was going to be a drabble, but the idea was just a little too big. Enjoy, darling.Not Quite Christmas Cheer
By Perpetual Motion
The electronics department is intimidating. George stares at the rows of CDs and DVDs and wonders briefly when shiny objects in shiny cases became all the rage. He misses the smoothness of record covers and VHS tapes.
“Can I help you?” The sales clerk is perky, young, fresh-faced, and female. She is wearing Christmas tree earrings, and her nametag reads “Becki”. The ‘i’ is dotted with a yellow smiley face sticker.
Part of George wants her to go away. He wants to shuffle through this over processed department without an over-eager teenager hoping to make a commission. The other part of George is screaming for help too desperately to ignore. “I’m looking for a CD.”
“Okay,” Becky bobs her head, and her ponytail bounces twice. “Do you know what genre you’re looking for?”
“Some genre that won’t make my ears bleed.” George tries to smile. “It’s for my stepson. I can’t tell you what genre he listens to because I can barely recognize it as music.”
“All right. He listens to it loud. That’s a start.” Becki gestures for George to follow her into the depths of one of the aisles. “How old is your stepson?”
“Dick’s fourteen.” George, thanks to years as a psychiatrist, can’t stand anyone around him being referred to as a label. He doesn’t mind Elliot being called a detective, and he’s not bothered when people call him doctor, but Dick’s fourteen, and he wants to be known as himself. George tries to help him any way he can, even if Dick’s not around.
“If he likes his music loud, he’d probably like some punk. We’ve got the latest Blink 182 and the new album from The Clash,” Becki looks at George. “Have you thought about a gift card?”
“No gift card.” The impersonal nature of gift cards bothers George. It’s a cop-out to putting actual thought into a gift. It’s mean-spirited, in a way. “I want him to know I’ve put some thought into this.”
Becki nods, and her ponytail bounces again. “Cool. I get it. You’re trying to bond.”
Somehow, George manages not to flinch at her sudden moment of psychotherapy. “Yeah, pretty much.” He maneuvers around Becki and works his way down the row of punk titles. He breathes a little easier when Becki doesn’t try to follow. Six feet from where he started, George sees a title card that reads ‘Ramones’. Suddenly, there’s a ray of hope. George flips through the titles quickly. His fingers close around ‘Mania’, and he thinks he’ll make it out of electronics alive.
“Did you find something?” Becki is straightening CDs a few feet from George’s elbow. George can tell it’s pure busywork.
“I think so.” He flips the album over and reads the song list. He hums a few bars of every song before nodding to himself and handing it to Becki. “He doesn’t have it.”
“You’re sure?” Becki turns the CD face-up and inspects the cover. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard these guys.”
Before George can launch into a lecture about The Ramones, their place in punk, and how ashamed Becki and her ponytail should be for not knowing the history of punk, his cell rings. “This is Dr. Huang.” George doesn’t miss the sidelong glance Becki gives him.
“Hey, where are you?” Elliot’s voice is confused and irritated. “If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to become a Scrooge.”
George smiles. “I’m paying in the electronics department. I’ll meet you outside in five minutes.”
“Great,” Elliot sounds relieved. “Bye.”
“Bye,” George disconnects and slips his phone back into his pocket. He uses the last of the smile Elliot caused to thank Becki. When he meets Elliot out front, he drops a five into the Salvation Army bucket and counts down the hours until December twenty-sixth.
