Fan Fiction Challenge #1

 

Writers have been given a list of things that need to be included in the fic. They could write about anything they wanted, but HAD to find a way of including each  item on the list. These are only short stories, but a 1 week deadline is issued. LIST:

Author's taking part in this challenge: RHPS Magenta, PoeticChick, kenobiwan123

*scroll down to read each version*



Magenta's Version

Author's NOTE: Okay, since kenobiwan123 said I'd "BETTER" come up with something I quickly threw this together. Don't expect much, I just wrote it and added things in as I went, no planning here...as you will see!

 

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Satine sat in Christian’s bed, her bare skin covered by a single bed sheet. She watched as he sat in front of his typewriter, no doubt creating poetry and literature that was sure to make him the Shakespeare of tomorrow.

The poetry just flew from Christian’s fingertips, whenever he was with Satine, his muse, he felt a buzz. He glanced at his pale skinned beauty, watching her lean over and take a banana from the fruit bowl on the dresser beside his bed.
Attuned to his loving gaze, Satine immediately knew she was being watched. She slowly peeled the banana, staring at it heatedly, waiting to devour it. As soon as she had removed the hard skin, Satine licked her lips in readiness, then lowered her mouth around the sweet fleshy fruit.

Christian watched her tease him, and a pang of desire radiated from the depths of his stomach throughout his body.
Mouth still on the banana, Satine bit down hard, her eyes now locked up on Christian’s. She giggled when she saw him leap up from his desk, but then gasped at his clumsy eagerness, when he knocked over the pot of ink and quill, sitting beside his typewriter.

Satine flinched as she saw the ink pour all over the table, but was relieved that Christian had been working on the typewriter, not on the fresh paper scattered beside it.
The black pool quickly spread, dripping onto Christian’s pants and the garret floor.

“Oh no! No, no, not my pants!” Christian exclaimed.
“Do you want some help?”
“No, no, I’ve got it under control,” Christian replied as he found a previously lost sock under the foot of his bed.
He smiled guessing how it found its way there, and then proceeded using it to mop up the mess.

Exasperated, he did his best at a temporary clean up job, but figured he would need to get some soap from his land lady, then take a bucket and rag from the washroom to fix things up completely.
Christian covered his face, rubbing his forehead and temples, then grazing his cheek, thinking how he was going to come up with the money to buy another pair of pants.

“Christian?” Satine probed, him out of his thoughtful state.
He turned to her, and instead of the sympathetic friend he was expecting, she curled up in laughter.
“What? ...What?? Satine, come on tell me!” he begged her.

Satine re-gained her composure and bit her lip to keep from spilling over in laugher once more. Hands outstretched to Christian, she beckoned him to her.
“Sit,” she commanded, and Christian did as she asked, yet this only caused more laughter as she explained. “It’s just, just...you look like Daisy...this puppy, I had when I was a little girl. She got stuck in the chimney some how, and when we pulled her out, her face was...covered in black soot!”
Christian looked confused for a moment, then looked to his hands, they were covered in ink!
“Darling, it’s all over your face!” She exclaimed.
Christian laughed with her, momentarily covering his face in embarrassment, only making the situation worse and Satine laugh harder.

“Come here” Satine said, pulling Christian from a seated position to on his knees in front of her. She took a handkerchief from beside the bed and dipped it a glass of water sitting on the dresser.
“Let me get that,” she said gently wiping the marks from all over his face.

Finally when Satine decided she had removed as much as possible. She placed the cloth back where she had found it and cupped Christian’s sweet face in her hands.
“Much nicer,” she said giving him a soft kiss, to finish up, but then her gaze dropped to Christian’s slightly damp, ink-stained pants, “But I think,” she said, already undoing his buttons and grinning impishly, “you’re going to have to take these off.”

 

 

 

PoeticChick's Version

 

Sunlight streamed through the window, spreading over the rumpled pillows and blankets like butter. A slight cool breeze tickled the edges of the white curtains, which gently swayed back and forth. In the bed, Christian lay on his side, his head propped up on his elbow, staring down at Satine who was sleeping peacefully on her stomach. Her small nose was wrinkled slightly, and her hair was spread over the pillow like a scarlet ocean.
Christian sighed happily, tenderly pulling the bed sheet up over Satine’s slim shoulders. He was just about to lean over and plant a kiss on her milky cheek when –
“Chwistian! Chwistian!”
Satine’s eyes flew open as she gasped and raised her head from the pillow. Christian rolled onto his back, staring up at the hole in his ceiling (really ought to get that fixed). Toulouse was poking his head through the hole, an anxious expression on his face.
“Chwistian!” Toulouse cried again.
Christian sighed. “Toulouse, I’m right here. I can hear you.” He glanced over at Satine, who was trembling, having been frightened out of a sound sleep.
“Chwistian…have you, by any chance, seen my other sock?” Toulouse raised his eyebrows inquisitively, drumming his fingers on the wood floor beside the hole.
“Your…other sock?” Christian asked halting, rubbing his eyes with his fists like a small child would.
“Yes, my other sock,” Toulouse said, his tone almost businesslike. “I absowutely must have it for the show tonight and I’m afwaid it’s lost.”
“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen it,” Christian said, glancing at Satine who rolled her eyes, slumping back down on the downy pillow.
“You’ll let me know if you do?” Toulouse asked, brows knit. Christian nodded, and Toulouse popped out of view just as quickly as he had appeared.
“I’m sorry, love,” Christian whispered, tucking a curl of hair behind Satine’s ear. She mumbled something sleepily, and Christian lay back down beside her and closed his eyes.
“En garde!” Suddenly, something long and yellow went sailing through the hole and landed right in the middle of the bed.
With a shout, Christian, in an attempt to leap out of bed, rolled onto the floor, landing hard on his backside. Satine sat straight up, clutching the sheets to her chest as she croaked, “What was that thing?”
Spying a lump under one of the sheets, Christian crept forward and flung the sheet onto the floor, revealing –
“A banana?” Christian said in confusion. He automatically looked up at the hole. Soon, Rico appeared, a cape made from the bohemians’ curtains tied around his neck.
With as much dignity as he could manage, Rico stretched an arm down through the hole and said, “My sword, if you will.” Trying not to laugh, Christian stood up, picked up the banana, and handed it to Rico who leapt to his feet shouting something in Spanish.
“What are they doing?” Satine asked blearily.
“It seems,” Christian said, straining to peer through the hole, “That Rico and the Doctor are having a duel.”
“Over a banana?”
“With bananas,” Christian corrected, “The Doctor’s got one too, although Rico’s is quite a bit larger.” He sat back down on the bed and looked at Satine. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” Satine nodded and slid back under the covers, shutting her eyes tightly. Christian remained seated on the bed. He was awake now; maybe he’d write at his typewriter for a while – no, he couldn’t, the ‘E’ key kept sticking and it was rather frustrating. Instead, he grabbed a sheet of paper, a quill, and a bottle of ink (might as well do it the old-fashioned way) and settled back into bed. He dipped his quill in the ink and was about to begin writing when –
“Christian!”
This time, it was a whisper instead of a shout, but it had the same affect. Christian’s hand jerked and he left a large blotch of ink on the paper, and Satine shot out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown and wrapping it tightly around her.
Christian wearily looked up at the hole. “What is it, Satie?”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Satie whispered, “Hello Satine.” Satine wiggled her fingers and Satie turned back to Christian. “Have you seen my puppy?”
“You’ve got a puppy?”
“Just got him!” Satie said proudly. “He’s black with brown ears. I found him on the streets yesterday. I took him in and fed him and set out a nice blanket to be his bed, and now he’s gone. I’m very worried.” He wrung his hands.
“I haven’t seen him anywhere,” Christian said apologetically. “I’ll let you know if I do. Could - could you all please stop interrupting us? We’re trying to get some sleep.”
Satie’s eyes sparkled. “Sleep,” he repeated. “I’ll let the others know.” With a giggle, he disappeared from the hole. A moment later, a red blanket was thrown over the hole, and everything was quiet.
“I’m sorry about all of this,” Christian walked over to Satine, who was sitting by the window. He began to rub her shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Will you come back to bed?”
“I’m not tired anymore,” Satine said moodily, arms crossed. Christian placed a kiss on her neck and sat down beside her on the window seat.
“You know what I’ve noticed, just now?” he asked her. She shrugged, staring out the window.
“All of them – Toulouse, Rico, Satie – they’re all searching for things. None of them have got what they think they need,” Christian said, “And I figure I’m the luckiest of the bunch.”
“Why’s that?” Satine asked, turning to look at Christian from under her lashes.
“Because I’ve got everything I need right here.” Christian said honestly, taking Satine’s small hand in his larger ones. He kissed her gently on the lips.
“You know what?” Satine asked, her voice an octave lower. “I think I’m ready to go back to bed now.”
Hand in hand, the couple returned to the bed, and this time the clunks, shouts, and small explosions from the apartment above their heads didn’t distract them in the least.

 

 

 

kenobiwan's Version

Author's NOTE: Okay, here's my story. It's sort of long and rambling. I didn't really start out with much of a plot, so it kinda just wrote itself (as you can probably tell!) It's hardly my finest work, but it only took my two days to write, so who cares, lol.

 

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**********************************************
Christian yawned as the early morning light crept through his window and woke him. Satine stirred next to him, but did not wake. He rubbed his blurry eyes, trying to focus.

Suddenly he heard the faint strains of a song float through his window.

'Deck the halls with boughs of holly. Fa la la la la, la la la la....'

A wide grin split his face as he gently nudged Satine awake.

'Darling! Darling, wake up. Do you know what day it is?'

'No...' she mumbled, drifting in and out of sleep.

'It's Christmas Eve! The day before Christmas!'

'Uh huh...'

'Didn't you hear me darling? It's almost Christmas!'

She blinked, more awake now. 'Did you wake me up to tell me that? Christmas is a silly tradition, I don't know why you're getting so excited.'

He stared at her, mouth agape. 'Satine! What is wrong with you?'

She rolled over to face him. 'Nothing is wrong, Christian. I just do not choose to celebrate Christmas.' As she rolled back, pulling the bed sheet up to her chin, he swore he saw tears pricking her eyes. Concerned, he wrapped an arm around her waist, half expecting her to push him away. She didn't. She gripped his hand and pulled it closer to her.

'Darling, what's the matter? You can tell me, you know you can. It wasn't something I did, was it?' His voice was almost choked in worry. She sighed deeply, but then smiled tentatively, and a wave of relief washed over him.

'Of course it wasn't something you did, Christian.' She rolled back over towards him, and gently caressed his cheek with her palm. 'You're perfect, remember?'
He blushed slightly, and she giggled.

'So then, what's wrong?' he asked.

She sighed again. 'We don't celebrate Christmas at the Moulin Rouge. We never have, not in all the years I've been there. I prefer it that way, anyway. Christmas is a time for love from your friends and family, and I don't....' she paused. 'It hurts too much Christian. It hurts to have no-one.'

'But you have me.'

'I know, love, and I'm thankful for that. But it will never be the way it was when I was a little girl. Sitting around the open fire, singing carols while my mother played the piano, and then sitting down to the biggest turkey you'd ever seen.'

'Why can't it be that way again? Why can't we make our own Christmas memories?' he asked quietly.

They sat in silence for a few moments before she answered. 'I'm sorry Christian. I can't. Please just let it be another day. That's all I ask.'

He lay quietly in the bed, staring at the roof as she got up and began to get dressed.

'We can talk about this later. I have to get back to the Rouge. I'll come back to your garret after rehearsals today...'

'No' he said firmly.

She stopped, startled. 'No what?'

'No, I won't let it be another day. This is our first Christmas together, and you're not going to miss it for anything.

'But...'

'No buts. I love you, and this is my Christmas gift to you. You're going to enjoy Christmas.' A lopsided grin fell across his face. 'Even if it kills you.'

She couldn't resist his infectious smile, and a matching one crept across her lips.

'Fine Christian. I'll enjoy Christmas. Just for you.'

He grinned and pulled her down to sit on the bed next to him. 'Promise?'

'Of course.'

He pulled her to him, and they shared their first kiss of the morning. It was long and bittersweet, with Satine conveying how sorry she was.

'Mmmm' he murmured. ' I don't like you waking up grumpy in the morning. I much prefer this.'

**********************************************

Their day at the Moulin Rouge was long and tedious. Zidler's ideas for a new show bored Christian to tears. Singing cats? What kind of idea was that? But he was kept busy during the day. Zidler had asked him to write a show for Christmas, and while it technically WAS finished, Zidler had Christian running around, making 'tiny' changes to everyone's scripts.

'He specifically asked for this scene to be in it, now WHY does he want it taken out?' the writer hissed to himself.

Satine's day was no more interesting. Standing around with the other dancers for hours on end while Harold constantly changed his mind about the script was not her idea of fun. She smirked as she watched a flustered Christian march away from Zidler, muttering things under his breath.

'Now HE'S my idea of fun' she thought to herself mischievously.

**********************************************

The sun had set long before Zidler decided that rehearsals had gone on long enough.

'That's enough everyone. Bright and early tomorrow. Those gentlemen expect a Christmas show!'

Christian packed up his gear deliberately slowly, so as to reduce the amount of people in the hall before he went to go talk to Satine. Giggling, she came up to him before he'd finished. They snuck a kiss while no-one was looking.

'You're very obvious Christian.' she grinned, helping him put his typewriter into it's bag. 'Go home. I'll meet you there once I've finished changing.'

He shook his head. 'I...uh...have to go somewhere first. I'll meet you back here, um, in a little while.'

She tilted her head questioningly. 'Okay...'

'Bye.' He left all his gear and dashed out the door.

She shook her head as she walked back to her dressing room. 'That boy will never cease to surprise me...'

**********************************************

Fifteen minutes later he poked his head into the backstage door.
'Satine?' he called.

She came out of her dressing room. 'Yes?'

He grinned. 'Can you give me a hand?'

'With what?'

Her question was answered as Christian struggled to drag a huge pine tree through the door. The end of it's trunk was very jagged, like it had been chopped very quickly and roughly.

'Christian! Where did you get that?! It's huge!'

He grinned wickedly 'Don't ask. Someone will just be missing a tree out of their garden for Christmas. Help me set it up'

Together they dragged it out onto the stage, and propped it up in a corner. They were laughing furiously, falling all over each other.

'I can't believe you stole a tree for me' she gasped out between chuckles.

'I'd do anything for you sweetheart. And it's not just a tree, it's a CHRISTMAS tree. Now help me decorate it.'

They rummaged about in Marie's dress-making room, coming out with handfuls of colourful off-cuts, sequins, bells and lace. Satine carefully and delicately placed each piece of fabric on carefully chosen leaves, while Christian randomly threw decorations around the tree. The end result was a very colourful, and very well dressed Christmas tree.

Satine's face was glowing by the time they had finished. 'Oh Christian! That was wonderful! I haven't done that since I was tiny.'

He smiled at her happiness. 'I'm glad to see you're getting into the Christmas spirit! But that's not all...'

Her eyebrows arched questioningly. He fished a lost sock that he had found in the dress-making room out of his pocket and held it up. She shook her head, still not understanding. He retrieved his pot of ink and nib from his desk just off-stage and proceeded to carefully print 'SATINE' across the opening of the sock. A grin of delight crossed her face.

'My very own Christmas stocking' she giggled 'Do I get presents from Santa in it, too?'

He shrugged sheepishly 'Sort of...'

Out if the same pocket he pulled a banana, and popped it into the sock. Laughter engulfed Satine, and tears were running down her face.

'It was all I could find!' he chuckled 'The shopkeepers don't stay open this late, you know.'

'Even a banana from you is special' she laughed. 'But it's getting late and cold, Christian. Can we go back to your garret now?'

He nodded 'And I'll give you the REST of your present...' he said naughtily.

She smiled and was about to give a smart reply, when she stopped. 'Christian, did you hear that?'

'No. What?'

They listened quietly together. There was the faintest sound of scratching and whining, which was then followed by a heart-wrenching squeaky howl. Satine hurried to open the door, and immediately a scruffy little black puppy came bounding in, shaking the snow off itself.

'Oh!' she breathed 'He's gorgeous!'

Christian screwed up his nose. The puppy was a tiny, skinny thing, perhaps part poodle, perhaps part everything. Hardly attractive, but Satine had seemed to take a shine to him.

She scooped the little thing up in her arms and began to tickle and coo at it. After a few moments she turned to Christian. 'We're going to keep him.'

"WE?'

'Yes, we.'

The little scruff ball was hardly the same as the Labradors and Alsatians Christian had owned back in England, but he knew he could never say no to her.

'Fine' he sighed 'What are WE going to call him?'

'D'Artagnan' she replied, almost immediately 'Like the young, handsome Musketeer.'

'Handsome...?'

'He'll GROW UP to be handsome'

He laughed 'Well, WE'D better be getting OUR puppy home. Come on.'

Satine didn't take her eyes off little D'Artagnan once as they walked from the Moulin Rouge to Christian's place. He yawned and snuggled into her arms, promptly falling asleep. 'Oh, Christian, look.' she cooed, eyes sparkling. He just grinned and wrapped his arm tighter around her waist.

Back at the garret, Christian lay on the bed as he watched Satine playing with the puppy on the floor. He burst out laughing as D'Artagnan ignored the command of 'sit' and instead replaced it with 'jump-up-and-lick-Satine'. Giggling, she pushed him away.

'No' she said firmly. D'Artagnan plopped himself down, and stared at her curiously, head cocked to one side. She smiled. The look of adoration that she was receiving from his chocolate brown eyes made her feel all warm inside. And it was a familiar feeling...

She turned around 'Christian, I...'

There was no response from the sleeping poet. The length of the day had finally worn him down, and he was stretched out across the bed, breathing peacefully. She stood, and climbed onto the bed.

'What about the rest of my present?' she whispered in his ear, smiling.

He mumbled something incoherent, and rolled over to snuggle into her. But he didn't wake up. Satine sighed, gesturing for her new puppy to jump onto the bed. He happily settled into the space between their feet.

**********************************************

She wasn't sure how long they'd slept, but both she and Christian stirred awake as the bells tolled midnight.

'It's Christmas' he whispered. She nodded back.

'Merry Christmas Christian.'

'Merry Christmas Satine.'

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