[identity profile] mollivanders.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] prefer_my_life
Title: let nothing you dismay
Fandom: Sleepy Hollow
Rating: G
Characters: Jenny, Abbie, Ichabod
Author's Note: Word Count 393. A holiday interlude for [livejournal.com profile] angeldylan628. Happy New Year's dear!
Disclaimer: The characters belong to FOX, as always.

It’s not like Jenny’s one for traditions but even still, this seems a bit ridiculous.

A cop, a mental patient, and a Revolutionary War soldier walk into a bar –

“This is ridiculous,” she informs her sister and Abbie narrows her eyes. “You’re the one who forgot to pick up the ham.”

“I didn’t burn the sweet potatoes.”

“That was only because of Moloch –”

Ladies,” Ichabod interrupts, stepping between them. “If this is how you celebrate Christmas, I’m not sure what I and all those other early Americans died for.”

Jenny definitely hears Abbie mutter she started it under her breath, but Ichabod has moved on. “And why is a bar even open on Christmas? What kind of food could they be serving? It’s a solemn celebration, not a –” He pauses. “A day for drinking?” Abbie suggests. “A day for half-dressed charwomen to be serving strangers microwaved food,” Ichabod finishes and Jenny rolls her eyes. “I’ll ask the half-dressed charwoman to bring us some menus,” she says, and leaves Abbie to deal with Ichabod.

“You got anything made this century?” she asks the bartender, who shrugs and passes her the list of drinks. “We don’t serve food after ten,” he says and Jenny sighs. Maybe Moloch could do her a favor and possess some people at this bar; then she’d have an excuse. “Three margaritas then, and make mine a double,” she says and leaves the grimy counter.

“And really, Leftenant Mills, we should at least be spending time at Mass. Caring for the poor.”

“You’ve got no argument from me,” Abbie replies and Jenny grins. “The way I see it, I’m stuck spending Christmas with you poor sods, so count me in.” As Ichabod opens his mouth to reply, Abbie shakes her head at him and raises a freshly delivered margarita glass. “To family,” she says seriously and Jenny and Ichabod raise their glasses.

“To tradition,” he says and Jenny pauses.

“To fighting on,” she adds and catches her sister’s eyes. Well, to family and tradition too.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Mills. Leftenant Mills.”

“And a Happy New Year,” Abbie chimes with a grin.

Hell, it might actually be this time around. Wait. She narrows her eyes at Abbie. “Which margarita did you take?” she asks and Abbie grins, holding her margarita tight. “Finders keepers, little sister.”

Hmph. So much for that.

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we're not like the rest, no, we ain't like most

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