argentum_ls | Fest: Fandom Stocking Reveals (Reply)

Fandom stocking revealed late Friday night (my time) and brought with it some new delights:

senmut, and

falcon_horus issued seasons's greetings, the latter of which was done with a screen grab from The Flash that features Barry & Cisco.

brightknightie offered some always appreciated Highlander squee on our mutual favorite characters.

juniperphoenix and

twinsarein both followed through with recommendations for new books to read or listen to, all of which sound delightful. I've already downloaded the audio rec and will begin listening to is as soon as the current book is done.

bring_me_sugar offered a gift certificate for a ficlet in a mutual fandom.

weaselett made me four Supergirl icons:

jessalryan wrote me an excellent Psych ficlet, starring Shawn and Gus:

Best Pizza Stereotype

"Best pizza on the planet," Shawn promised.

"Can't be," Gus argued. "It didn't come from Chicago, and you are not Italian."

"Gus, don't be the reason to quit an Adam Sandler movie." Shawn lifted two topping-heavy, cheese-oozing slices with his father's extra wide grilling spatula and tipped them precariously onto a plate. He sat the plate in front of Gus, and his best friend gave it a look so suspicious that Gary Coleman would've envied the expression. "Try this."

"It isn't a stereotype, Shawn," Gus stubbornly insisted, always able to translate Shawn's obscure references. "Italians make good pizza because pizza is Italian food. Just like my Jamaican grandmother makes the best jerk chicken because it is Jamaican food."

"That's like saying Henry makes good steaks because steak is stubborn man food." Shawn went rummaging through his father's refrigerator, probably looking for something to wash the pizza down with, because he probably knew it wasn't good. Gus wasn't buying this.

"No it isn't, Shawn," Gus argued. "Although it is a valid point. Henry is a meat-and-potatoes man, and a divorcee. He had no choice but to get good at cooking those two items. What's even on this pizza besides ham and pineapple, anyway?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Gus, I know the super smeller is telling you that's the best pizza you've ever seen." He sighed while Gus remained stoically dubious, even in spite of the smell making his mouth water. "It's a New York style crust – you missed that, I didn't even hit the ceiling, not even once – with a light Italian marinara, fresh tomatoes, fresh basil, a blend of five cheeses, prosciutto wrapped pineapple chunks, Italian sausage slices, and I just made the mozzarella before I put it on the pizza."

Gus stared. The last time Shawn had been home, they were still in high school and Shawn couldn't boil water without burning it. Gus picked up a slice, dubiously, and Shawn mimicked him, and they took their first tastes of the pizza together.

"Oh my God," Gus exclaimed. "That's the best thing I've ever eaten!" He was halfway through his second slice before he decided, "You should open a pizza place. We'll call it… uh. Where'd you even learn this?"

"Hum? Oh, I worked at a gourmet pizzeria in New York last summer. It was between the museum and the French restaurant."

"Right," Gus agreed, then frowned. "But if you make pizza like this, why'd you quit? Why'd they let you go?"

Shawn shrugged. "Found out the hostess was stealing from the register. Would've probably been fine, except she was the boss's daughter, and you know how that goes…"

Gus shook his head, sad about the melancholy look in his best friend's eyes. Shawn had been trying to turn off the cops' perception his father had given him, trying for years. Maybe that was the real reason he could never stay in one place, because if he stayed long enough to see it, he saw everything. "Val's," Gus suddenly decided.

"Wha?" Shawn wondered, distracted from his thoughts, just as Gus knew he would be.

"We'll name your pizza place 'Val's', and then…"

Shawn snorted and grabbed another slice of, honestly, the best pizza Gus had ever eaten. "That's not Italian."

"Shawn," Gus said sternly, "don't be something Mel Gibson's publicist blames on alcohol." He kept his smirk to himself. That was for people who Shawn couldn't yet read like a book - both of them.

Shawn's eyes brightened at the implied challenge. Obviously, it was on.