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December 24, 2014: Keith and Gar's plane is delayed due to weather. An unexpected friend helps- and briefly kidnaps Bunker.

Airport/Danny the Street/Orlando

So many places



  • Passersby
  • Danny The Street

Mood Music:
Christmas At The Airport

T'was the night before Christmas, or actually the morning, and out in the airports, the airlines were warning:
The flights were delayed due to storms and tornados, and three planes were still overdue from Barbados.

Gar had advised packing light, and that was mostly what they'd done. However, the second and third alternatives were not coming together after the first flight was cancelled, and even hitching a ride on one of his Dad's planes wasn't an option due to the heavy backgrounding.

"Well, we have two choices, Keef," Gar said, with his duffel over his shoulder. "I can be a dragon and cause some serious air traffic excitement, or we can walk… I mean, Danny offered to get us there, but he's REALLY strange about Christmas."


A certain look of mischief comes across Keith's face, making him look rather impish (or, rather more so than usual.)

"Well… the dragon option is rather attractive, if only to have another excuse to shout 'Falkor' again."

He picks up his own duffel bag.

"But then you'd probably get SHIELD to yell at you again. So… what exactly is Danny's thing about Christmas?" he cocks an eyebrow. Truthfully, he is more likely to choose Danny because of his feline curiosity. He's also dressed light for travel- he's more dressed for Florida weather than New York.


"Well, you know Danny's kind of a flagrantly over the top kind of gay, right? He has entire Christmas Trees made out of taffeta. He goes way beyond Japan … Oh, nevermind, I'll just show you," Gar says, sending a text on his phone.

They walk past another one of those Airport Shopping Megapod things that seem to have taken over the majority of the airports in the country and one of the stores has windows that look like Macy's ran into Victoria's Secret by way of The Gauntlet.

"Hi, Danny," Gar says, grinning at the mannequin in leather shorts bent over the lap of a sexy-santa mannequin who is wielding a paddle made of holly. The boy-nequin being punished has mistletoe over its head.

"That's … not quite traditional," Gar observes, as he tugs Keith into the open door of the store.


Keith grins and takes a good, long look at those leather shorts.

"You know… you'd look good in those." Is he teasing or does he mean it? Hard to tell, he's got that Sphynx smile going on right now.

"Hi, Danny, good to see you after so long." He follows Gar into the store, ready to be surprised.


The place is infested with elves, reindeer, and chorus girls. Apparently Danny is hosting some sort of theatrical revue. The store itself seems to be for Christmas Wrapping. Oh, by the way, the elves and reindeer are, respectively, very hunky dancer-acrobat type guys in harnesses, shorts, bell-slippers and collars with christmas hats, or more beefy and hairy guys wearing helmets with reindeer horns, hoof-designed toe-shoes, and shorts with reindeer tails built in. And harnesses, of a different style. At least they're not wearing hoof-gloves. There seems to be a bit of a crowd, late shoppers who are getting their gifts wrapped just in time.

"Hiiii," one of the Chorus Girls says, as she and her four friends go by arm-in-arm, kick, step, side, side, kick, step, side, side. "Don't forget to get some wassail and waffles!"

"Sure, on our way," Gar says.


Keith's amusement grows by the minute. He waves at the chorus girl, and then stops for a second to admire some of the outfits.

"You know… you would look rather cute as an elf," he says with a grin, only a step behind Gar.

"I wonder what Danny would think. Still, he does have a rather unique joie de vivre for Christmas. It's a pity Miguel didn't come along. There's a couple of guys who I know would be just his type."


"Danny, if you take this as an invitation to accidentally hijack Miguel, I will be mildly annoyed … if you don't get pictures," Gar says. Several Christmas trees flash their lights in a wave pattern, and somewhere, a toy doll chuckles with remarkable timing.

"OK, we need to get out of here before we get drafted," Gar says, "or we'll be late for our check-in time at the Grand."


"… okay, but Danny- you've got to tell me where I can get one of those elf suits for Gar," Keith says with an ear-to-ear grin.

"Besides, Miguel should be working right now, unless he got his shift off…" the redhead looks at the christmas trees flashing.

"I'll say this of you, Mister Logan- you've got the best and most interesting friends."


"OK, I'll get that right out!" Miguel yells over his shoulder as he pushes through a door. He's volunteered to work Christmas Eve so a co-worker with family can have the time off, and so he's whistling his way into the kitchen when all of a sudden he's… not. The door closes, but he's not in a kitchen, he's coming into a Christmas store, in front of Gar and Keith.

"Ah, hmmmm," he says, turning back, then in a complete circle as he takes in the surroundings, "Ah… OK, I have no idea what just happened, there…" Miguel says, looking a little stunned. Such is a day when you're a Titan.


"AFTER he's done with work, Danny," Gar says, shaking his head and laughing. "Hey, Miguel, Danny's throwing a party and apparently we get to attend it rather than spending that time on an airplane which is good because all the flights were full AND canceled."

He suspects that Danny will convince one or three of his Reindeer (see above) or Elves (see also above) to put on aprons and pop through random doors to help Miguel out so he won't have to deal with the full horrors of the shift. Of course, they'll have to take some fruitcake with them to bribe whoever is running the restaurant. Danny has fruitcake that is actually edible. And no, it's not magical. It just tastes that way.

And one of the reindeer is taking the apron off of Miguel and putting it on himself; "Ho," he says, "Ho ho, and joyous Yule, cutie," and pops back through that door.


Keith laughs and shakes his head, giving Miguel a grin.

"I think he likes you, Mickey." the redhead looks around the celebration. "I guess there is some wassail around here that's apparently spectacular. How was your shift going before you got street-napped?"


"I, um, hey! Yow!" Miguel says as the apron is tugged off his waist. He spins again and winds up putting a hand on Gar's shoulder to keep himself upright and not fall down.

"A hairy bear reindeer dude just stole my apron!" he says, pointing back towards the door.

"Gar, Keith, what…?" he says as pauses. "Ah, OK, I guess, we're really slammed and…where am I?"


"You remember Danny the Street?" Gar says. "He's having Christmas. He does that."

Another reindeer and an elf don aprons and go through the door, into the kitchen that shouldn't be on the other side.

"Ho-kay," Gar says. "Wassail and Waffles, that has to be over at the International Den of Waffles, Right?"

He starts moving, as the lines at the wrapping tables are increasing. "C'mon, Mig, you gotta taste this stuff."


Keith puts an arm around his confused team-mate's shoulders and he grins.

"Looks like you've earned yourself a break courtesy of Danny, Mig. He must like you a lot- saaay, did you get a chance to unwrap your present yet?" the redhead grins, following Gar as the green Titan leads the way to the promised lunch-land.

Miguel has learned by now that going with the flow is his best means of dealing with the curves the superhero life throws at you.

"Nope, not at all; I've been at work all day," he says to Keith. And he falls in beside Gar and Keith, smiling.

"Never had that, so lead on!"


Gar leads the way to a door that opens on Danny Street and Bailey Avenue, and there is the faint sound of people singing 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' down Bailey Avenue.

"This way," Gar says, pointing to a diner in the middle of the block. It's one of those old train-car-diners converted, or possibly made new in the shape of the old. Covered in shining metal, the diner has a large sign, covered in christmas lights, that reads "WAFFLES 25 HRS" and a sign in the window, "WAFFLES AND WASSAIL, TODAY ONLY"

There's a continuous loop of Christmas music, that coincidentally is playing "Here we come, a wassail'ing" as they enter the place; there isn't much of a crowd right now because everyone's at work. Like Miguel would be, except for his stand-ins.


"This is amazing," Keith mutters. "And Robin thought I was overflowing with the Christmas spirit. I wish I had known Danny gets like this over Christmas. I could have asked him for advice to decorate the Castle."

The Titans' Castle was a veritable pageant of red, green, white and gold, with tinsel and lights everywhere. At first he had been a little despondent about their flight- what with it being Gar's Christmas gift and all, he hates it when people's Christmas gifts don't turn out the way they want it to.

"Well, you definitely deserve a rest, Mickey." He gives his tema-mate a noogie, "It's so good to get to see you before we head out."


Miguel laughs as he walks along and gets noogied. "Hey, it's good to see you guys as well. I'll have to get back at some point but I should be at the castle sometime tomorrow, OK?" he says, clapping Keith and Gar on the back. "Man, I can't wait for this," he grins, as he pushes open the diner door… but doesn't emerge from the other side.


"Huh, I guess the manager didn't like the Christmas Helpers," Gar says. "Well, that or he wouldn't pay Miguel unless he was there."

The Green Titan points out the bowl of Wassail. There's several cups waiting to fill, and of course the free waffle with every order… of ice cream and wassail. Apparently this is not a low-carb holiday.


"My god, Danny, are you insane?" Keith quips, approaching the bowl. "… we're going to Orlando, we're already going to eat like crazy. I'm going to put on fifty pounds."

Still, he helps himself to a helping of the wassail. And waffles…


"There's a fairly simple answer to that," Gar says. "We hit the gym at every one of the places we stay at."

He points out at where Danny's decorated himself with cute little pink-flocked christmas trees on top of the mercantile and that the Army/Navy Surplus Store mannequin is holding a candy cane instead of a rifle.

"See, I told you, he misses NO details."


"I can see that. Attention to detail everywhere-" Keith pauses, and looks around.

"Um… can Danny hear us, or is there specific locations only where he can hear us? I've never met a… person like him before, I don't want to be rude by speaking about him in the third person. Especially since he's been so nice to us."

He takes a sip of the wassail and MMMMM-HMMMMMMMMs. "Oh god, this is lovely, simply lovely… man, I haven't tasted stuff like this since mom…" he trails off and looks at his glass, with a little half-smile, mixture of melancholy and resignation.


Gar says, "Danny's a genius loci, the spirit of a place," and he puts one hand on Keith's shoulder. "I think he's decided to be a fabulous place."

He sips the wassail himself. "Yeah. Mom never made it this well, but Dad's butler did."

For a moment, they're both enjoying that Auld Lang Syne Wave at intensity six.


Keith tastes the wassail again, and spends another moment in time sharing the feeling. And then turns to Gar and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

"I still think you'd look great as an elf," he says quietly, his smile brightening up a little more while one arm slides around Gar's waist.

"Do elves bring good luck? 'cause I'm a very lucky guy." He snatches one of the mistletoes that have been placed as decoration and uses it to tickle Gar's nose as he says that.


Gar flinches back from the mistletoe. "Aiee, no, that's the stuff that kills summer," he says in a somewhat over-dramatic assumed voice. It may sound a bit familiar, if Keith has watched "Christmas with the Vikings" — a really strange bit of cross-cultural mis-appropriation in cartoon form. It shows every Christmas along with Grinch and the missing-adults Peanuts. And the interminable parade of Rankin-Bass.


"Mwahaha, I have got you now!" Keith waves the mistletoe threateningly for a second, showing that indeed he has identified the media in question, before putting it back behind his ear and taking a sip of the wassail.

"So… what gift do you give a… genus looci, was it? for being so sweet to us? I mean… what do you give the street who has everything?"


"Traffic?" Gar grins. "A new shop? I already told him we weren't going to move in, because it's just rude to live in one of your friends especially when he isn't a teammate, and he doesn't actually have a fixed address. I did offer him the use of the garage alley at the Castle, but he said something about it making him look fat."

The waitress takes away their plates when they finish, and says, "It's about a half hour to check-in time, boys, you should probably get some waffles in a to-go bag, and head on out."


"I know! How about we convince Zee to do a show here? Do you think Danny would like it?" the redhead brightens up, and nods to the waitress. "Aw… yes, ma'm. This wassail is to die for. Just like my mom used to make, y'know? Simply amazing."

He reaches into his pockets for a tip. A good tip, because this food was very manna-like. "I remember the last time we were here," Keith says, putting the tip down and looking at Gar, "I was coming down from a trip and you confessed I was important to you. And then we came out of Kate's closet." Toothy grin.


Gar signs his credit card receipt, adding the standard 20% tip anyway, out of habit. Danny's people tend to pay good wages, but gratuity from gratitude is not forbidden.

"I know.. It's been a while. We should really visit Danny more often. He's good people. Lots of them."

Also, he seems to have read Gar's itinerary, which means someone may have picked his pocket and then returned his stuff afterwards.

"Which way?" Gar asks. The light down the street changes to "walk" — only in one direction.

"Hey, have you ever considered a vacation in one of the Orlando resorts, Danny?" Gar says.

A poster in the next shop window, a travel bureau, says, "SEE MAIN STREET USA GUEST STARRING DANNY"…


"Now that's a surprise Uncle Walt clearly didn't plan," Keith grins and follows the signs. "I hope I don't have to transform while we're at the park. I might get sued for copyright infringement and the Titans would go broke."

It wouldn't be the first time, since the group had gotten sued over copyright by a company that made an anime… based on the team. So they were being sued for infringing their own copyrights.

"Wait… they can't sue me, I'm public domain, aren't I?" A pause. "That made it sound…. dirty."


"Yeah, that's why we have a lawyer who works for points available," Gar says. "You can't be sued for being yourself, and they'd have to prove infringement, but honestly, Vorpal looks like Vorpal. Their Cheshire Cat is a fat purple striped angora. You're more of a Tiger-Moggie."

The next intersection, a block away, is Apricot Resort Blvd. It's a short, short walk to the front entrance of the Grand Key Lodge. (Names may have been changed to protect the trademarked.)


Keith blinks for a moment and looks around. "It's always a little disconcerting making the change without really noti-"

He looks at Gar suspiciously. "Did you just call me a mongrel, Garfield Mark Logan?" he says with a raised eyebrow. And he has used The Middle Name. That means someone's in trouble.


"Moggie. Tiger striped. Moggie is Britspeak for cat," Gar says. He pushes a finger into the point between the eyebrows where that frowny expression is lurking.

A young boy walking past looks up at Gar and says, "Mommy, who's that one?"


Keith is about to 'aaaah' when the kid asks his question.

And this is what Boyfriending 101 trains you for: appreciating the humor of the moment without actually laughing. He gives the boy a raised eyebrow and says, "Actually he's a superhero. He's on vacation and is coming to visit the Mouse, just like you." It should be noted that he's not using the 'kid voice' that some adults use with small children- that condescending tone mixed with two parts smarm, because that annoyed him like hell when he was a kid.

Keith has never really been sure what to do with kids. Having had no little brothers, he's the kind of guy to whom you could hand a baby and watch him carry it as if it were about to explode.

"He's pretty awesome."

Well, the Mickey Mouse Club had its recruiters, why not the Changeling International Fan Club?


Yes. Changeling blushes green, at least right now.

"Gosh, thanks," Gar says, in the voice from that cartoon, and that sets the kid off again.

"MOMMY! He's the Frog Viking!" and the mother winces in that tight-faced, hair pulled-back-too-hard helicopter-mother way.

"I'm sorry, but…"

"No, he's right," Gar says in his normal voice. "I'm Gar Logan, I do the voice for the Frog Viking." And then to the kid, in the voice again, "I have to, he has a frog in his throat."

A wandering street performer, part of the park ambiance, performs a rimshot on a nearby trash can lid. Welcome to the Home of the Mouse.

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