#it's snowing in ireland so merry christmas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

halfelven · 3 years ago

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A request if you wanna do it: would you do a little christmas themed modern au thing with lotr/silm characters? I dont mind what its about or if theres any plot, its just nice to live vicariously through characters having a nice time in winter/christmas :) like just something cozy. Thank you and i hope youre having a nice day 🎄

thanks for this! wishing you a very happy Christmas! they're having a little Christmas, but it's pretty warm in Ireland, so it's a green Christmas~

I'll maybe write some more if more living vicariously is needed. I have some ideas for little bits and a surprise snow--and the 12 days of Christmas only just started? (I don't actually know when that is)

🎄🎄🎄

Legolas woke up to Elladan’s little black kitten staring down at him. His big bat ears were perky, and his eyes were all shiny. Legolas stroked him gently as he purred. He blinked slowly, trying to wake up completely. It was Christmas Eve, and he was going to bake so much for everyone.

Thranduil poked his head in. ‘Come on and wake up, baby.’ Thranduil’s hair wasn’t brushed yet, and he was wrapped in a pale pink dressing gown with cranes, reeds, and lily pads printed on it. He bent and kissed Legolas. ‘My Little Star Darling My Precious Angel Perfect Little Dewdrop’ purred louder and pressed his face against Thranduil’s arm. Thranduil petted ‘My Little Star Darling My Precious Angel Perfect Little Dewdrop’ absently.

Legolas reached up and grabbed hold of his father’s hair so he couldn’t leave quite yet and had to kiss him again. Thranduil did so.

‘Get up, we need you to bake.’ Thranduil gave him a third and final kiss and swept off to get ready.

Legolas did get up after he’d petted ‘My Little Star Darling My Precious Angel Perfect Little Dewdrop’ a few times. He then washed his face and brushed his teeth. He kept his pjs on—a big white and blue striped shirt and matching shorts—and went down the steep, carpeted stairs. Gimli was supervising Merry and Pippin on wrapping a green garland and a string of ornaments around the banister of the little landing on the bottom of the stairs. Legolas stepped off the little stairs and padded into the kitchen.

Elrond and Bilbo were the only people in the kitchen at the moment. Elrond stood by the sink with a London Fog in a pale orange and turquoise painted mug.

‘Well, now there’s a witness,’ Elrond said, which wasn’t concerning at all.

Bilbo snorted. He tugged at the belt of Elrond’s bathrobe.

‘That’s fighting dirty,’ Legolas scolded.

‘He always fights dirty,’ Elrond said, retying his belt as Elladan’s too-long-named kitten (who had followed Legolas down) swatted at the belt.

Legolas ignored their fight or playing or play fight or whatever it was (he hadn’t yet quite made out why Bilbo wanted to tease Elrond so much and so often) and put bread in the toaster and got out butter and peach jam. He put the toast on the toast plate when it had popped and got it all ready. Then he took it and a glass of water to the table and settled down on his chair, one leg drawn up to his chest. He yawned.

‘Ada?’ he said, but Thranduil was apparently not in hearing range or was doing something important. Aragorn came in with a pot of fresh sage. ‘Aragorn,’ he said instead. ‘Do my hair?’

‘Yeah, just a second,’ Aragorn said. He squeezed Elrond. ‘Baby.’

Elrond gave Aragorn a puzzled look.

Aragorn kissed his cheek. ‘Baby.’

Elrond smiled, bemused.

‘I don’t understand him either,’ Legolas said. Elrond nodded solemnly. Aragorn tickled him.

‘Estel, tea.’

Aragorn let go of him and hugged Legolas around the shoulders from behind. He rested his chin on Legolas’s head. ‘Cutie.’

Elrond sipped his tea.

‘Why is Bilbo killing you?’ Legolas asked. He guessed that was what the witness comment was about.

‘I’m forcing him to not be evil,’ Elrond said.

Bilbo snorted. ‘Do you want bacon and eggs, Aragorn?’ he asked.

‘Ew,’ Elrond said.

Bilbo hit his thigh. Some of the tea tipped out of Elrond’s cup and fell onto Bilbo.

‘Ow!’ Bilbo shook his hand.

‘I warned you.’

‘You did that on purpose.’

‘Did not.’

‘You can control water.’

‘It spilled because you hitme.’

‘That was a tap.’

‘Estel, Bilbo hit me.’

Aragorn shook his head. ‘I don’t get it,’ he said to Legolas.

‘Me neither.’ Legolas ate his toast.

Gandalf came into the kitchen with his hair a big mess around his head.

‘Good morning,’ Elrond said.

Gandalf looked at him sharply and opened his mouth.

‘I mean it is a morning for youto be good on,’ Elrond said before Gandalf could speak.

Bilbo laughed. Elrond smiled down at him.

‘Try my tea.’

‘No.’

Elrond looked slightly offended.

Aragorn tugged gently on Legolas’s hair. Legolas got up and followed him into the living room so that Aragorn could sit on the sofa when he braided Legolas’s hair.

The living room was very cosy for Christmas. There was a tree up that they had decorated a couple days ago. The lights were on it even though the sun was shining behind the blinds in the large window. The fireplace had a little garland over it and very many stockings. Legolas was glad they were named or he wouldn’t be able to keep track of whose was whose.

He threw a large square pillow down on the floor and sat in front of the blue sofa cross legged. Aragorn picked up a brush and started brushing his hair.

Frodo came into the living room with a stack of books for reshelving.

‘Has your dad killed my dad yet?’ Aragorn asked.

‘What?’ Frodo pushed the first book into place.

Aragorn smiled at him.

‘No, no, Bilbo’s good,’ Frodo said, catching on.

Elladan had shelved the books by colour, and it had caused some controversy in the house, but Legolas liked it. He also liked that the whole house smelt like pine because of the tree and wreaths and garlands. There were little shimmering baubles on the mantle and candles and fairy lights draped over the mirror. A low fire burnt in the fireplace and was grated away from the rest of the room.

Elrohir lay on the beautiful rug that had vines and flowers designed over it. Legolas hadn’t noticed him at first. Elrohir had his kitten—a striped one that also had some large circles on its body. Her name was Petra. She was standing on his chest.

Thranduil came into the living room in a silver silk tunic and faux leather leggings. His hair was somehow perfect already. He stepped over Elrohir’s legs to tie some silver bells onto the garland on the hearth.

Legolas giggled as Aragorn’s hand brushed against his ear, tickling him. Aragorn laughed. He finished Legolas’s hair off with a green ribbon.

‘Off you go. We need you in the kitchen.’ Aragorn patted his butt on the way out.

Legolas found Sam and brought him into the kitchen. Bilbo was making breakfast. Elrond was grating lemon peel.

Legolas set to work on the spritz cookies. Sam started on the gingerbread loaves. Legolas sang as he worked.

It was raining lightly, and the grass smelt fresh, and the rain delicious coming in through the half open sliding door. Birds sang. It was quite warm out—about 10 degrees. Legolas popped his head out the door after he’d finished the batter.

‘Does this look right?’ Sam asked him.

Legolas peeked down into the bowl at the gingerbread cake batter. He dipped a finger in and tasted it. ‘Hmmmmmmmm. Needs orange.’

Legolas stole Elrond’s zester and added orange zest to the batter. Then he cut the orange in half and squeezed the juice out into the bowl. Elrond smiled at him.

‘Needs more ginger,’ Sam said.

Legolas nodded. ‘And more cinnamon!’

They mixed it up and tasted it again.

‘Cream,’ Sam said. Legolas nodded in agreement. Sam added the cream and mixed again. They tried it again.

Legolas nodded. ‘It’s good!’

‘Yeah.’ Sam smiled, content.

Soon the baked goods were safely in the oven. The turkey would go in after. And then vegetables. There was a ham in the slow cooker. There were a lot of people over, so they needed to feed an army, but it was the more the merrier! Besides Legolas didn’t have to cook. Bilbo and Sam were doing most of that, insisting that Shire food was the best of all food. Legolas didn’t know if he believed that, but he was fine leaving it to them.

Legolas hurried back into the living room and settled down next to Elrond’s sons and Gimli. He put his arm around Gimli. Gimli sighed. Legolas smiled at him. Gimli sighed again.

‘Gimli doesn’t want to cuddle,’ Merry said.

Legolas cuddled closer.

‘You’re worse than a kitten,’ Gimli said.

‘I’d say about the same,’ Aragorn said.

Pippin sat down right next to Faramir. ‘I got you a fun present.’

‘What is it?’ Faramir asked.

‘Can’t tell you yet.’

Faramir nodded.

‘We’ll take a walk by the river soon,’ Boromir said. ‘While it’s so nice out.’

Legolas smiled at him. That sounded delightful. He could have a nice warm cup of mulled wine when they got back. And eat it with some of the spritz cookies with the green sugar. He kissed Gimli’s temple.

‘Love you!’ he sang.

Gimli sighed again.

‘Elves.’

‘We’re not starting that now,’ Aragorn said, getting to his feet. ‘Come on, walk now.’

Legolas jumped up. ‘Fight later!’

‘No fight later.’

‘Always fight later,’ Pippin said.

Legolas laughed. ‘Right!’

He grabbed his coat and pulled on his shoes. They would have a wonderful dinner when they got back, and then a peaceful evening. Presents in the evening, and then stockings Christmas morning.

It was warm outside, and the grass was green, shining in the sun. Off they went to the river, singing together. 🎄

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wormstacheangel · 4 years ago

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Smiles with a Christmas Kiss

Merry Christmas @professorerudite

Summary: Dean and Cas are left behind in the bunker on Christmas Eve. A regular movie day is planned but it slowly becomes a lot more.

It’s Christmas Eve and the bunker was quiet. It was just him and his best friend in this big place, their footsteps echoed the halls like no other time before. When it was just him and Sam the place always felt okay. It was home and it was nice but with Cas - finally human and finally staying - the place felt warm. It was a damn home again.

Jack followed Sam and Eileen on a holiday trip to Ireland. Of course, Dean had to refuse. Thinking of the long plane ride alone was making him feel sick. Though he insisted Cas should tag along with them - go see the world and all that jazz - he didn’t budge. Insisting he just wants to stay in the bunker.

Dean didn’t argue. It was nice not to be alone during the holiday season but at the same time, he hoped Cas didn’t stay behind just for him. Dean would have done what he always did for Christmas. Go to a bar full of lonely people and find someone, or someone’s, to have some fun holiday party on a motel bed.

Well, that’s what he would like to think he would have done, heck maybe a long time ago he would have done just that, but now it’s different. He hasn’t gone to a bar looking to hook up with anyone in years and he wasn’t going to start now. After throwing excuse after excuse at himself about why his libido just went into a downward spiral, fighting God and all that shit really wasn’t a good excuse for him apparently, it all came down to one angel. Well, person now.

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas walked into the kitchen, dragging his bunny slippers across the cold floor and towards the coffee machine.

Dean watched as Cas poured himself a big mug full and then sat across from him on the kitchen table to join him. Dean already had the sugar and creamer on the table, prepared for Cas who always gets up a few minutes after him.

As soon as he took a sip he smiled into his mug and Dean rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he watched. Enjoying the way Cas’s eyes crinkle at the side when he smiled with his eyes closed. He even shivered just a little as the hot drink ran down his body, holding the hot mug in between both his hands and close to his face.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Dean finally tells him as Cas placed his mug down on the table to smile back at him.

He could live like this for the rest of his life. As much as Dean wanted more, he was okay with this. Having Cas like this. Seeing him like this. Shaggy hair that curls up at the tips and stubble that was already too long but must feel so good against Dean’s skin. Cas’s baggy sweatpants that fall too low on his hips and Dean’s old band tees that were exclusively worn for sleep cling to his muscled frame.

Cas was just art that he could enjoy looking at but not touch. At least not the way he dreams to touch.

A happy sigh escapes Cas’s lips as he rolls his shoulders back and reaches for the untouched toast on Dean’s plate. “Merry Christmas Eve by the way.” He took a bite of the toast with butter and then made a face before he reached for the jam. Sweet tooth. He took another bite before he started talking with his mouth full. “I know you don’t celebrate but I still hope we can watch that movie you wanted to show me.”

Dean hummed in response as he sat up straighter, reaching for his coffee to have his hands do something. “We can do that.”

“Which reminds me we also need to go grocery shopping. We’re running low on supplies.”

“Cookies?”

“Exactly.” Cas winked at him.

Dean laughed and it always felt like he was floating when it was Cas who made him laugh. Yeah, he can live like this. If he can have these mornings everyday then he can live with Cas as his friend.

Grocery shopping took a while even though the place was mostly empty. Dean had a list and Cas kept ignoring it to add random junk he wanted to taste. Some of the stuff Dean hasn’t even tasted himself, “Then we can experience it together.” Was all Cas said and Dean couldn’t argue with him on that.

“What do people do on Christmas Eve?” Cas asked when they walked back to the car to load the groceries. “That child looked at us with pity when we told him we didn’t have any plans for today.”

“Dude, how am I supposed to know?”

“You know more than me.”

“The last real Christmas I had - I was three, Cas.” Dean opened the trunk of the Impala to start stuffing the bags. “Plus, I’m pretty sure that I imagine all those happy memories I had with my Mom and Dad.”

“I’m sure some were real, Dean.” Cas placed the last of the bags in the trunk as he looked at him with a small smile. Pity smile. “You’re Mother loved you so I’m sure she would have done her best to give you-”

“Cas,” Dean sighed as he closed the trunk with a loud thud. “I just want to watch some movies and sit on the couch with you and a tray full of nachos. I don’t want to psychoanalyze my childhood.”

“Ah.” Cas nodded, another smile. This one was softer and warmer. A smile that felt reserved for just Dean. Cas’s cheeks were even rosy from the cold wind piercing through their many layers. “Understood. I’ll take the cart back and you start the car then.”

Dean watched Cas walk away, scratching the back of his head when he saw him walk back into the grocery store. He was going to go after him but decided to do what he was told and just start the car. Maybe they needed a quick getaway.

Cas returned a few moments later with nothing in his hands.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Cas just shrugged and put his hands up to the heater. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

That was the only response he knew he was going to get from his angel - oh wow! Not his. Not even a damn angel anymore.

Dean drove them home while Cas turned on the radio. Tapping his fingers on his knee to the beat of the music. Dean wondered how Cas would react if he just reached over and twined their hands together but instead he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

It was already late when Dean called Cas over to watch the movie. He was going to go with Die Hard, his childhood Christmas movie he watched with Dad, but Dean had a feeling that Cas wanted a movie where it was actually about Christmas. So he picked his other childhood Christmas movie. A Christmas Story.

Cas walked in, his blanket already in tow, and took a seat on one end of the couch. Dean sat on the other with the nachos tray right in between them. Cas sat with his legs crossed and tucked into a corner, almost facing Dean, while he reached into the food before the movie even began to play.

“So you watched this as a kid?” Cas said, mouth full and head tilted as Dean settled on his side of the couch.

“Yup.” Was all Dean said as he handed Cas a beer and pressed play.

It was only the first few minutes when Ralph walked in with a full cowboy getup that Cas laughed and when he met Dean’s curious eyes, enjoying every second of that rare laugh. Cas pointed at Ralph and then him. “Dean that’s you.” He laughed harder as soon as the words left his mouth and Dean hit him with a pillow.

The nachos were moved to the table in front of them, where Dean had his feet propped up.

Cas continued to make little comments as the movie went on.

“Ah, reminds me of that whoopee cushion prank you did on me.” Cas noted as he took a sip of beer.

“All of that for a damn tongue on a pole?” Cas sounded so annoyed that Dean spits out his beer laughing.

They somehow moved closer on the couch with every little comment Cas made. From the mention of yellow eyes. To ask what was put in Ralph’s mouth after he said fudge. (“Dude he said fuck.” “So? You say it all the time.” “I’m a grown man.” “Oh. Children can’t say it?”)

As soon as Ralph said son of a bitch Cas was somehow already shoulder to shoulder with Dean. He laughed, his shoulders shaking, before turning to look at Dean with that big smile again. Dean never thought anybody could look as beautiful as Cas did when he grinned at him like that.

“Dean, I told you that’s you.” He smiled and Dean didn’t have it in him to argue, even as a joke. Instead, he nodded, smiling back at Cas, while his grinch heart grew three sizes.

This was supposed to be a safe nonromantic movie but Dean hasn’t watched it in a while. He forgot the ending when the parents sat in the dark, just like they were in now, and enjoyed the snow falling. With only the Christmas lights shining.

A few years ago he wouldn’t have thought it was romantic - there was no kissing or grunting in this scene what so ever- but the soft touches is what he craves now. He was already so close to Cas as it is. Feeling the warmth radiate off his best friend while his blanket was now over both their laps, he doesn’t even remember when that happened.

He was already so close. Dean could turn his head and his nose could be buried in Cas’s hair, the smell of nature still follows Cas around, and he could hold him. Hold him like he has always wanted to hold Cas, with no immediate danger or death hanging over them. He just wanted to hold Cas because he wanted to hold him. No reason.

Cas leaned into him a little more, untucking his feet from underneath him so he could lay them flat on the ground. Dean noticed every fidget of Cas’s fingers and he wondered if Cas was uncomfortable with the closeness but then in a sudden move Cas had an arm around Dean’s shoulders. Cas cleared his throat as he squeezed Dean’s shoulder closer to him - trying to act like this was a normal thing for them- while Dean stared at him with wide eyes.

Dean couldn’t find the words. He wanted to say some dumb joke or push Cas off but he stopped himself. Instead, he relaxed under the touch and leaned into it.

“Oh, um, the movie ended.” Cas cleared his throat while he started to pull his hand away.

“I’ll, um, I’ll just - let me pick another one.” Dean reached for the remote and picked a random movie in the Christmas category and pressed play. Then he leaned back into the couch again and Cas’s arm was around him again.

Dean doesn’t remember how many movies they watched that night or how he ended up falling asleep on a couch too small to hold two grown men. But he didn’t care because now he had Cas’s fingers making small circles on his back and the touch was so gentle.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.” Cas must have known he woke up.

So Dean folded his arms over Cas’s chest and looked down at him. He could feel the dumb smile on his mouth. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“I know it’s customary to give gifts now.” Cas started reaching for something on the floor while Dean opened his mouth to argue but Cas looked at him with those just-shut-up-Dean raised eyebrows so he listened. “It’s something small I got at the grocery store so I’m sorry it’s not something you may want but I believe you deserve a Christmas gift, Dean.”

They both sat up when Cas pulled out a small shiny gift bag with a Christmas tree right out front. Dean wondered when Cas even had time to get this or sneak it in as he sat crisscross back on the couch while Cas copied him. Handing over the present with a wry smile.

“I didn’t even get you anything, Cas.” Dean started saying, hesitant to get the present.

Cas shrugged. “You can make it up to me later. Now take it.”

Dean took it and it didn’t even have tissue paper to hide what was inside. Dean laughed as he pulled out a few Reese’s shaped like a Christmas tree, some DVD of a movie he hasn’t even heard of so it must be new, and a gift card for Dominos pizza.

“These are great, Cas.” Dean laughed looking down at his gifts. “Looks like you already planned our next date night.”

“I did?” Cas looked down at his presents before looking back at Dean with wide eyes. “Date night?”

“I mean, only if you want to-”

“I want to!” Cas quickly leaned into Dean’s space again and he probably didn’t mean to lean in so close but Dean was also not thinking as he met him halfway to press their lips together. It was just a quick kiss before they pulled apart.

Dean didn’t say anything as they sat back on their seats. Staring at anything but each other.

Cas cleared his throat. “Was that my Christmas gift?”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I’m cheap.”

“Can I have another gift then?” Cas asked, leaning his head down so he could catch Dean’s downward gaze. He was blushing -fuck he was blushing- as he smiled at him again and Dean was taken back to that morning. Where he thought that he could live with just having that smile in his life but now he knows how that smile felt against his own.

Dean only nodded once before Cas fell back into him. Their lips smashing together into a grinning kiss, teeth smacking together, as Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist to pull him closer. Then he pulled away just enough to kiss Cas again, slowly as he took everything in. Cas’s weight on his lap. Cas’s fingers on his face while he held the back of his neck. The soft noises Cas kept making at the back of his throat as they moved against each other that was making Dean crazy.

He can have this. Can have Cas and it was a damn Christmas miracle that Cas was dumb enough to want Dean the same way. And fuck his stubble did feel great against his skin.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.” Dean said when they pulled apart to breathe, their foreheads touching.

Cas grinned, a small laugh shook his body and Dean felt every shake that was in his arms. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Thanks @destielsecretsanta2020 for this fun project!

#Destiel #Deancas #Supernatural #SPN #A More Profound OTP #My Writing #Christmas Fic #destiel christmas #spn christmas fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #destiel frist kiss #destiel ficlet #first kiss #fluff #sorry had to post early just in case I can't tomorrow #hope you don't mind!#WormstacheWrites

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omgrachwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Falling Stars (Sequel to Tell A Tale of You and Me) Chapter Four

Pairing: Dean Thomas x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a brewing war you fall for one of your classmates, a boy that you used to know. When you have the chance to fight against evil, you fight for what you believe in.

Chapter Summary: Dean relives the past and things that hurt him there while you and Astoria meet with a group of people in The Hog’s Head and you end up joining the DA.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

Words: 2558

Disclaimer: I haven’t read The Order of The Phoenix in ages so the timeline may be wrong!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this part! Please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

previous part masterlist prequel next part

Chapter Four - The Past Hurts

Dean watched the beautiful sprawling English countryside whizz past the window as the Hogwarts Express let out a billow of steam and picked up speed. Seamus’ and Neville’s snores distracted him as he went back to his book and Dean sighed at them as he put his book back down and rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes. He knew that he should have been excited about the upcoming year at Hogwarts; he’d heard rumours that something big and exciting was going to happen. But, he wasn’t as excited as he should be.

Cass hadn’t written back to him all summer, he wasn’t pathetic enough to let a pretty girl be the centre of his universe but he was a little bit hurt. Dean knew that Sirius Black was Cass’ dad, and she even told him that she wouldn’t be able to contact him much over the summer. The ministry was still after her dad – as they should have been because Sirius Black was a convicted mass murderer – but he still thought he’d at least get one letter.

He supposed that he would just have to talk to her in person and see what the score was, and see if she was alright. The fact that he’d be able to talk to her properly made him feel better and he decided not to worry about Cass anymore.

Seamus and Neville joined the land of the living sometime in the afternoon when fields and moors disappeared, snow-capped mountains and lakes taking their place. Neville asked Dean and Seamus what the Quidditch World Cup was like as excitement filled his round face as he clutched his plant. The two best friends shared a wistful look as they launched into talks of the match.

“It was the best match in centuries, I’d wager,” Seamus started while Dean nodded vigorously, “me mam cried when we won.”

“Krum caught the snitch but Ireland still won, it would have gone on for days of Krum hadn’t ended the game. Bulgaria was no match for Ireland, and everyone knew it but I am dying to try out that one move, the Wronksi Feint,” Dean laughed.

Neville gaped in astonishment and awe, and there was even a little glint of jealousy in Neville’s eyes which surprised Dean, “wow! I wish that I could have gone, I asked Gran if she would get tickets but she wouldn’t,” he pouted, looking mournfully out of the window.

“Well, if you can wait about a century for England to host again then you’ll be able to go,” Seamus snickered while Dean rolled his eyes.

Finally, after a long day of travelling from London, Dean and his friends were stepping off the coaches that took them up to the school. Dean stood up on his tiptoes as he walked into the candle lit Entrance Hall, looking over the sea of people to see if he could spot Cass. A cold drawl of a laugh came from behind Dean and he swivelled around to see the pale pointed face of Draco Malfoy.

Dean scowled, he’d like nothing more than to ruin that platinum slicked back hair and give him the punching that he thoroughly deserved. Cass was standing behind Malfoy with her friend, Astoria, Cass looked so pretty. Dean opened his mouth to greet her but Malfoy suddenly began talking.

“Alright there, mudbloods?” he smirked as his eyes travelled from Dean to Seamus, and then to Neville. His eyes lingered on Neville for the longest; his lip curling as Neville nervously looked away from him, clutching his plant in one hand and his toad in the other.

Cass’ nose flared in anger and she glared at Malfoy as he used the slur but she didn’t say anything, not one thing. Her silence hurt Dean more than he had been when he didn’t hear from her all summer. This wasn’t the Cass he knew, the Cass he knew was kind and always spoke up for her friends and those who couldn’t defend themselves. What had happened to her since he saw her at the World Cup?

“Go fuck yourself, Malfoy,” Dean scowled. Malfoy smirked before walking into The Great Hall, Cass and Astoria followed him in and Cass didn’t even look in his direction.

The three boys huffed out a surprised sigh and Dean noticed that Neville looked crestfallen as they walked into The Great Hall. There was silence among them until they sat down on the cold stone benches and Neville began toying with his golden cutlery, “why didn’t she say anything? She heard what Malfoy said, she was right there. Do you think she’s alright?”

Neville’s voice was almost breaking and it saddened Dean, Cass had been the only Slytherin that had been kind to Neville, the only Slytherin that he hadn’t been shit scared of. Dean frowned and looked over at the Slytherin table to find her laughing with her friends and it made Dean angry, but he also knew that something else must be going on.

“I’m going to find out what’s wrong Neville, I promise.”

The first time that Dean had tried to talk to her was after their first Defence against the Dark Arts class with the auror, Mad-eye Moody. He was intense after having just performed the three unforgivable curses. When he said as much to Cass, she only smiled tightly before taking off down the corridor quickly.

Dean soon got tired of her endless silence so he ended up cornering her at the Yule Ball, and in hindsight he wished that he hadn’t. She looked very beautiful in silk robes of blood red, making a stark contrast against the perfect white snow. Dean’s heart thumped faster every time he looked at her but he wouldn’t let that distract him, he needed answers.

“Cass, talk to me. Why are you constantly pushing me away this year? I know things must be difficult right now with your family but I’m here for you, please just talk to me,” he rubbed his hands over her cold arms as they stood in the beautiful sparkling winter gardens.

“Dean,” she sighed, biting her lip before she rearranged her face so she looked terribly unmoved, “we shouldn’t be friends anymore, Thomas,” her voice was as cold as the winter wind.

“What?” Dean burst out laughing, this was some kind of joke, it had to be, “you’re joking right?”

“No,” her voice didn’t break or waver, in fact she looked bored, as if they were only making small talk, “I’m not joking.”

A pang of hurt jolted in Dean’s chest and he frowned at her, “come on, Cass,” he scoffed, “what did I do wrong?” Dean almost cringed at how small and pathetic his voice sounded so he cleared his throat, “you have to tell me.”

Cass shrugged, the eyes that had once been warm and soft were now hard as she looked down at her nails and kicked at a drift of snow, “I’m a Slytherin, I have to make the right choices, and you, well you’re…” she trailed off and looked up at him, her eyes roaming over him in a way that made him feel small.

What had happened to her? She was every inch the Slytherin now. In a flash, red hot anger replaced his sadness and he scoffed as he narrowed his eyes at her, “is this because I’m a Gryffindor? Or is because I’m a muggle born? Or, a mudblood as you and your friends would call me.”

Cass had the grace to look taken aback and her eyes softened ever so slightly as she dropped them to the snowy ground, “I would never call you that,” she muttered but when she looked back up at him, her face was hard again, “we’re too different Dean, eventually we’ll go down different paths, it’s inevitable. What if Voldemort comes back? My dad’s parents were his biggest supporters, if he comes back and discovers that I’m friends with you…,” she trailed off and looked away from him as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Dean rolled his eyes, he knew where this was going and he didn’t like the ending, “you’re ashamed of me, aren’t you? Say it.”

Cass looked back at him with alarm in her eyes as the wind blew through her perfectly styled hair, “no, Dean. That’s not it.”

But, Dean shook his head as he cut her off, he’d heard enough, it was amazing how quickly he could turn against her. He was still hurt but he was angry too, angry that she thought he was unworthy, “finally, I can see who you are. I can see you clearly, I thought you were different but it turns out that you’re just like the people you claim to hate.”

There was hurt in her eyes but Dean didn’t care, he just watched her as she walked closer, “that’s settled then, goodbye Dean. Merry Christmas,” she whispered and then she was gone, with a swish of her blood red skirts.

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You shoved your hands in your coat pockets as you passed the bustling pretty centre of Hogsmeade, a particularly harsh gust of wind made you look wistfully at The Three Broomsticks. You tried not to think about the fact that it would be wonderfully warm inside and the piping hot Butterbeer would warm your body from the inside out.

Glancing behind you, you saw Astoria miserably trailing behind you and you caught the scathing glare she sent you from beneath her woollen scarf. You laughed as you shook your head as you both walked to the outskirts of the wizarding village. It was pretty out here, there were fewer cottages here with huge overgrown gardens. You would like to live in a cottage one day, a cottage with a rose garden with a pretty thatched roof. You also wanted a garden that was big enough so you could grow your own fruit and vegetables.

It wasn’t often that you came this far out of the village, you were headed to The Hog’s Head, and Hermione had asked you to meet her there and to bring only those that you trusted. Those who wouldn’t speak a word to Umbridge and Astoria were the only one that you trusted like that. Astoria hated Umbridge and the fact that the class weren’t using defensive magic, so she was a pretty safe bet. According to Hermione, she, Harry and Ron all had something to say and you knew it must be important if they were going to so much effort.

“Remind me again why we’re freezing to death in the arse end of Hogsmeade, Cass,” Astoria grumbled from beneath her thick scarf.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you slowed down so you were walking side by side, “I told you, Hermione and the others have got something to say, and I think we should hear it. If you don’t want to stay you can go but just don’t tell Pansy or anyone for that matter.”

Astoria scoffed softly as she shook her head, “I’m not leaving you, I admit this thing could be worth my time and please, I never talk to Pansy unless it’s absolutely necessary and even then, I hate her.”

You grimaced as you both walked into the pub and found that it was only slightly warmer than it was outside and it smelt of mud and hay. The Weasley twins greeted you at the door with identical grinning faces and they offered you a dirty bottle of Butterbeer, “thanks guys,” you smiled as you took it graciously. Astoria made a face at the dirty glass and she shook her head as she slipped past.

You picked your way through the small crowd and the three Gryffindors smiled at you when they realised you had come. Astoria scowled as she folded her arms and stood by your side, shaking her head but you knew that she wouldn’t leave.

“Cass, what are you doing here?” Dean laughed as he stood at your side and you noticed that he was glancing down at your scarred hand which was feeling much better, thanks to him. You almost flushed at the memory and it felt like you had both bonded a little.

You shrugged as you took a sip of Butterbeer and winced, you didn’t like it too much when it was cold, you made a mental note to go to The Three Broomsticks after this, “Hermione asked me to come, she said that it was important. She also implied that it would piss off Umbridge,” you laughed and Dean smirked.

“Any excuse, hey?”

“Absolutely,” you laughed, relishing in the way his eyes crinkled at the sides and his precious dimples made an appearance, you couldn’t get enough of him. You only waited a couple more minutes before quite a lot of other people came into the pub and Hermione finally began talking.

She started off by saying that they needed a proper teacher considering Voldemort was back and they needed to know proper defensive magic. When she mentioned Voldemort being back, a couple of people scoffed and grumbled but Hermione shut them up with a shrewd look that seemed to channel McGonagall. You had to admit that she was right, you had to protect yourselves, and you would not be on the side on Voldemort.

When Hermione told everyone that Harry could produce a proper Patronus, you gaped, that was very impressive magic, you didn’t know how to do that, “that’s amazing Harry!” at your words he flushed and shook his head.

“I’m not here to brag or anything,” he laughed nervously, “but with Voldemort being back, we need a chance to beat him or he’ll kill us all. No one should have to die like Cedric, which is why Hermione thinks it’s best that we start a club where we can learn defensive magic together. Of course, we’ll work around Quidditch practice and everything like that but I think it’s a good idea.”

It was soon settled, Hermione would let everyone know when they had a date for the first meeting and she urged everyone to keep a look out for a place where they could practice where Umbridge wouldn’t find them. You looked at Astoria who stared back at you with excitement in her eyes, “let’s do it, Cass!”

“Absolutely,” you grinned and you both made your way to the sign-up sheet. You laughed at the name, ‘Dumbledore’s Army,’ as you signed your name.

Dean had a smile on his handsome face as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his pretty eyes gleamed as he looked at you, “I’m surprised that the both of you want to join,” he nodded at both you and Astoria.

You bit your lip and smiled at him, “of course we want to join. Do you think that just because we’re Slytherins that we’re on Voldemort’s side?”

Dean shrugged as he made a face, “I’m just pleasantly surprised Cass, I’ll see you later,” he nodded at you as he walked out into the cold weather.

Astoria smirked at you as she waggled her eyebrows, “Merlin, he is so hot, Cass. Let me know if you ever stop pining for him.”

You giggled as you linked your arm through hers, “come on, let’s go to the Three Broomsticks.”

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shellku · 3 years ago

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Film Challenge

Okay guys. Finally did it. As requested.

Have you ever left a theater before the movie was over?

Yes. Only once.

If you ever left a theater what was playing: Savages

Craziest (Random) movie you’ve ever seen:

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.

“And thanks for all the fish” -Dolphins

Most disturbing film you’ve ever watched:

Crimson Peak

A film you only watched because (Tom Hiddleston ) was in it: Crimson Peak

A minor role (or movie) with a major actor you greatly enjoyed: Sebastian Stan as Jefferson/The Mad Hatter in Once Upon A Time.

A minor role (or movie) with a major actress you greatly enjoyed: Emma Watson as Pauline Fossil in Ballet Shoes

A movie everyone should see at least once: The Princess Bride

A movie you thought everyone has seen but apparently not: Who framed Roger Rabbit?

A movie you’ve tried multiple times to watch but never get through it: Silence if the Lambs

A movie that legitimately surprised you:

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. While it came out in 1980 I didn’t see it until much later obviously. I wasn’t even ten when I watched it the first time, I and was genuinely shocked.

Movie that you enjoy, that surprises people you enjoy: Scream (1996)

A movie you associated with Religion and it turns out that tracks: The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe

A movie you watched a lot as a kid but your not sure why exactly you watched it so much:

Hook. (And) The Sandlot.

My first movie that made me question my sexualité: The Priâtes of the Caribbean.

Sections

Anime

First Anime: Fruits Basket. Vampire Knight.

Anime I watched with my (brother): Full Metal Alchemist

Anime I tried to get into and couldn’t: D Gray Man

Anime I was surprised I enjoyed: The Neverland Promise. (And) Soul Eater

Anime I always liked (even when it confused people): Black Butler

Anime that makes me cry: Your lie in April

Anime that I love but now makes me sad too: Sword Art Online

Anime I’m just not into: One Piece

One that was recommended that I enjoyed:

Blue Exorcist

One that was recommended that I was ehh on and did not finish: Attack on Titian

One I probably should watch: Pandora Hearts

One I watched Randomly : Castlevania

One that I did not watch until (college) that everyone seems to have watched: Sailor Moon

Cartoons

Cartoons Everyone should see:

- The Peanuts.

- Garfield.

- Scooby Doo.

- Tom and Jerry.

- Pink Panther.

Cartoon I never liked: Spongebob

Cartoon I hate now: Kiayu? Idk. The one with the bald kid that whines a lot. Ugh.

Cartoon I can make myself ‘watch’ with the (niece/nephews): Paw Patrol

Films you would Recommend:

80s: The Breakfast Club

Book Adaption 80s: The Outsiders

Murder Mystery:Murder on the Oriental Express

Jim Henson pick: Labyrinth

(Suicide) Satire:Heathers

Romance: Titanic

‘Horror’ Movie: The Lost boys

Horror Movie: The Nightmare on Elm Street

Spy Flick: Saint (1997)

Mind trips: The Sixth Sense.(1999) Donnie Darko.

Stephen King: The Dark Tower

Stephen King Miniseries: Rose Red

Studio Ghibli: Howls Moving Castle. Or. Kiki’s Delivery Service.

Action Comedy: Miss Congeniality

Adventure Comedy: Jumanji

‘Dark’ Comedy: The Addams Family

Romantic Comedy: Legally Blonde

Tim Burton

Tim Burton Animated: The Nightmare Before Christmas

Tim Burton Live Action: Edward Scissorhand

Tim Burton Musical: Sweeney Todd

Dreamworks

Favorite Dreamwork’s Film:

Rise of the Guardians (and) How to Train your Dragon

Disney:

Unpopular Recommendations:

The Black Cauldron (and) The Great Mouse Detective

One that is still rather disturbing: Pinocchio

Best Soundtrack (Golden Age): Fantasia

Best Soundtrack (Modern): IDk?!

Classics (Golden) everyone should see at least once: Snow White (and) Bambi.

Wartime Era Pic: The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr.Toad

Silver Age or Bronze Age: Both!!!

Disney Renaissance or Post Renaissance: Both! If I absolutely had to choose though, Renaissance.

Moana or Lilo and Stitch: Lilo and Stitch

Frozen or Tangled: Both

Soul or Monsters Inc: Monsters Inc

Toy Story I and 2/ or/ 3 and 4? Toy Story I and 2.

Underrated: Candleshoe

Disney Holiday:

Live Action Halloween - Hocus Pocus

Live Action Halloween Series- Halloweentown

Animated Halloween- Frakenweenie

Live Action Christmas- Miracle on 34th Street (and) Eloise

Animated Christmas- Mickey’s Once Upon a Christmas, Mickey’s Twice Upon a Christmas, (and) Winnie the Pooh: A very merry Pooh year.

New: The Nutcracker and the Four Realms. (2018)

Disney Reimagined/Live Action:

First that made you rethink the story: Maleficent

Favorite ‘Princess’ Story: Beauty and the Beast

The Surprise: Cruella

The one you worried about but we’re happy with in the end: Lady and the Tramp

The one you worried about but ending up enjoying anyway: Aladdin

The one that was good but you could have done without: The Lion King (which really surprised me!!!I like it but I didn’t love it. Which for me was so strange since I’m a fan of the original and the play.)

The one you had high hopes for and had a mixed reaction too: Mulan. (Ended up really liking it, but I miss Mushu. )

‘Modern’ Shakespeare Adaption:

10 Thing I hate About You (The Taming of the Shrew)

Clueless (Emma)

and

The Lion King Series. (Kid appropriate)

The Lion King: Hamlet

The Lion King 1 1/2: Rosencrantz and Guildenstein

The Lion King 2: Romeo and Juliet

Vampire Pictures:

90s: Interview with a Vampire

2000+: Twilight Series

Tv Series: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Vampire Action Series: Underworld

Classic: Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Dracula with a Twist: Dracula Untold (2014)

Fun Supernatural Flicks :

Witches: The Craft

Male Witches: The Covenant

Fairytale: Red Riding Hood (2011)

Ghost Hunters: Ghostbusters

Multiple Supernatural: Van Helsing (2014)

Werewolf Romance: Blood and Chocolate

Kid Friendly Live Action: Casper

Kid Friendly Animated: Hotel Transylvania

Supernatural Series:

Multi: Supernatural

Animated: Sabrina The Teenage Witch. (And) Scooby Doo.

Witches: Charmed

Fairytale: Once Upon a Time

Darker Fairytale: Grimm

‘Superhero’ Movies:

90s: Batman. (And) The Crow.

Series: Marvel’s Cinematic Universe

Classic Animated: Batman the animated series

Modern Animated: Harley Quinn

Girl Power: Wonder Woman. (and) Birds of Prey.

Something Different: Deadpool

Younger Audiences/Nostalgia: Teen Titans (animated)

Harry Potter

Favorite Film: Idk. Can’t choose honestly.

Least favorite character portrayal: .. Ginny Weasley?

Someone you loved: (so many..) McGonagall

Someone you loved hating: Bellatrix LeStrange

Someone you just hate: Dolores Umbridge

First time you cried: I cried for Sirius and Remus in Prisoner of Azkaban.

First time you jumped: Snakes or Basilisk. Chamber of Secrets. (I think I was 12?)

Someone who was so spot in acting on you can’t see them as anyone else now: Luna Lovegood

Someone who was so good even if the look wasn’t perfect: Emma Granger as Hermione OR Alan Rickman as Severus Snape.

Someone who’s injury hit you harder than the books: Colin Creevy.

Someone who’s death hit you harder than in the books: None. They hit but not as much as the books.

A scene you found just breathtakingly pretty: Christmas at Hogwarts

A scene you found creepy (even when you knew it was coming): Nagini uses a corpse as a mask.

For any Potter heads. Some things that bothered you about the Harry Potter films:

- Where is Charlie Weasley?

- Where is Peeves?

- Where are Neville’s parents?

- The green/blue/brown eye thing. (This is not against Radcliffe. Some special effects could have fixed this easily)

- HarrY DiD YOu PuT YoUR NaMe IN tHe GoBlET of FIRE?! 🔥

- In Sorcerers Stone, Why did you change the snake at the zoos breed??

- “Voldemort” versus “Voldemor”. The silent t.

- Hermione’s. Yule. Ball. Dress. Color. Blue. Not pink. She specifically changed the color.

- Fluffy. Hagrid’s adorable Cerberus was originally bought from a Greek man. Why change it to Irish? I like Ireland but it was a Greek man due to where Cerberus’s initially came from right???

- Harry’s first Weasley sweater color

- Why does Harry only see his parents in the Mirror of Eirsed? Where’s the rest of the family?

- The Underage magic rules aren’t well explained in the movies making the 3rd year summons even more bonkers sounding

- The Patil Twins Yule Ball Outfits. They could have been soooo beautiful. Like this is the Yule Ball! The Twins would have (in my opinion) much more elaborate traditional Indian styled dress robes?? Idk.

- Love Movie Hermione! But some moments take away from Ron. Like when Ron defended her in the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione didn’t know what the slur “Mudblood” meant in the books. Ron had to explain it.

- Dobby needed more screen time. Some stuff Dobby did went to Neville because so many Neville scenes were cut.

- Where’s all the secrecy from the books when communicating with Sirius- “Snuffles”? Something Harry’s godfather insisted on to keep him safe.

- Snape’s title of “The half-blood Prince” is not explained. Neither is it made clear that Severus was also abused horribly at home throughout his childhood. Also that like Harry Dumbledore did nothing to help Severus when he was a student. (Or maybe Tom Riddle when he grew up in an orphanage. I’m sensing a pattern)

- Dumbledore should have still spelled Harry during Dumbledore death scene. No way would Harry just stand there if given the choice.

- Ron was not quite as ‘dumb’ in the books and a lot of his funny moments were cut from the movie. Which makes his jealousy moments all the more unbecoming. He also comes off a bit more arrogant in the movies. (This is not against R Grint. Who is awesome) The movies gave Ron the short end of the stick.

- Weasley/Malfoy Fued. Who else wanted to see Arthur and Lucius have a fist fight in a bookstore? Exactly.

- Albus Dumbledore isn’t all Sunshine and Daisys. He does some really messed up stuff yet no one ever seems to question this.

- Remus was the last Marauder. Yet his and his wife, Tonk’s, deaths are barley acknowledged.

- Also Teddy. Harry’s Godson.

- Harry’s and Ginnys relationship is not built on. It’s just there. Ugh. Heck Movie Ginny isn’t that great. You don’t know much about her except: She’s the only girl in Ron’s family. She’s the youngest Weasley. She’s obsessed with Harry. She’s a good Quidditch player. She has a temper. She was possessed by Riddle’s Dairy when she was eleven. She’s obsessed with Harry.

- Draco is essentially Harry’s antithesis. Where is he in some critical scenes in the movies?

- Where’s the Luna love???? Harry’s pretty rude to her in some scenes.

- There is no S.P.E.W. And Hermione’s more ruthless side is gone.

- The guys hair in The Goblet of Fire. Get a hair cut. Please.

- Some of Molly’s less than Stellar Moments. (Ex. When she believed rumors about Hermione and so treated he coldly. How horrible she was to Fleur. Ect)

- Fleur. Fleur and Bill still get married but the objections to the wedding aren’t as presented in the movies. Not is Molly’s and Ginny’s extreme dislike of Fleur. Or when Arthur apologizes to Fleur. Or really any of Fleurs best moments. The whole courting process is skipped.

- House Elves. The House Elves of Hogwarts.

- Percy Weasley. The ‘betrayal’. The returned Weasley sweater. Him turning to protect his family and fight for Hogwarts at the last minute. All gone. Which involves being forgiven by the Weasley Twins not an hour before Fred dies.

- The connection of the Black sisters. Specifically Adromeda - mother of Tonks. Who is Sirius cousin. Who married Remus Lupin. Tonks and Remus the parents of Teddy.

- Dean Thomas is pretty much gone.

- Rita Skeeter. Illegal Animagus. Hermione kept her in a jar.

- The movies didn’t allow Radcliffe to be sassy and sarcastic enough. Harry Potter is one of the sassiest boys to ever walk through the halls of Hogwarts!

- Harry didn’t fix his wand in the last movie.

- The history of the Marauders.

- The history explaining why Snape could never be comfortable around and trust Remus Lupin.

#disney #challenge #film #movie #mcu #Batman #2021 #Harry Potter

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nkp1981 · 4 years ago

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Christmas and New Year Eve 2025/2026

They had all agreed on to meet and celebrate New Year’s Eve in Prague.

Joe and Nicky had arrived around Christmas, where they used the opportunity to be a couple on Christmas vacation to the fullest by eating good food, visiting their old stomping grounds, going down the narrow streets hand in hand being like silly teenagers, who had been left home alone and spending plenty of time in the bed.

As they walked down The Charles Bridge the clock struck twelve, they decided to take a break and looked out on the Vltava. “Merry Christmas, Habibi!” Joe said in Arabic and took Nicky’s hand, which he started to caress. “Merry Christmas, Mi Amore!” He replied in Italic with a smile and leaned into his shoulder. ”I got something for you!” Joe said and took out a bag of figs from his pocket together with some honey. “You incurable romantic.” Nicky replied with a big smile, when he saw the figs. “Remember our first Christmas as friends back in the small inn in Alexandria?" Joe wanted to know. "Yeah, we talked all night even though I'm not sure we understood each other completely since we still were trying to understand each other." Nicky replied with a laughter in his voice. "I think it was that night, I fell in love with you, because I had never seen anyone eat figs like you did with such a delight, so I thought that it was a good idea to do it again.” Joe admitted and handed him a fig. “It is, but how can me eating figs like a wild man be the reason why you fell in love with me?” Nicky wanted to know and tilted his head. It was something he did when he wanted an answer from Joe. “You looked lovely, but it also had to do with that I probably for the first time in my life could be myself without anyone telling me what to be instead of what I wanted to be!” Joe replied and took the last fig in the bag. “I felt the same way that night and I’m so grateful, that the feeling hasn’t disappeared that we still are together and still have time left in the world.” Nicky said and took the fig, he was handed. “You look just like in the inn!” Joe said laughing when fruit juice started to run down Nicky’s face. “Thanks! So, how did you get it through the custom?” Nicky wanted to know. “Well, I just used the concierge service, but I have to say, he didn’t listen when I ordered them.” Joe replied a bit disappointed that the figs were not as ripe as he had wished for. “Doesn’t matter. It is the thought that counts, and I appreciate it!” Nicky said and gave him a kiss on the cheek before he handed him a packet. “This is excellent craftsmanship, that I’ve seen in centuries. Where on earth did you find it?” Joe wanted to know when he saw the dagger and started to examine it closely. “I’m not telling!” Nicky replied with a secret smile. “Just wait till we get back to the hotel, then I’ll get the information out of you!” Joe said as he pulled Nicky in for a kiss. “Then you better put in an effort, because as you know, I’m not easy to get any information out of!” Nicky replied in a teasing tone and gave him another smile before he started to walk again. “Oh, there will be no doubts about that!” Joe said as he took his hand once again, while they talked on the way back to the hotel.

Andy and Nile didn’t have the same quiet Christmas as Joe and Nicky had. They had been on a mission to take out an Ukrainian arms dealer, who in a desperate attempt to get out of the warehouse had fired a rocket launcher at them, which made Nile throw herself over Andy to shield her, while the rocket flew over the head of them hitting some parked cars behind them. “Told you to stay back at the hotel!” Nile said as she sat up and looked at cars, who were burning. “And miss out of all the fun? I haven’t had this much fun in years!” Andy replied sarcastically and reloaded her gun. “We two have very different definitions of fun and besides I think the boys prefer to see us both in one piece instead of a million!” Nile said and looked towards the arms dealer, who was running for his cars. “You may have a point there. Can you hit him?” Andy wanted to know and looked towards the man. “I don’t have Nicky’s rifle skills, but if you can deal with the big one over there, I may have an idea. Wait for my signal.” Nile suggested and Andy nodded, so when Nile went to the left, Andy waited and when Nile made the signal, they both hit their targets at the same time.

“I could really use a cold beer!” Andy said, when Nile sat down next to her. “Me too, so Merry Christmas!” Nile replied, when the bells could be heard in the distance. “Merry Christmas. Let’s get out of here and find that beer before the police show up. I don’t feel like talking to them or spending the night in a cell.” Andy said and the women walked in the other direction away from the police.

They found a small pub who still had open and sat down in a corner with their cold beer. “I have to say that the Europeans make better beer than the Americans.” Nile concluded and looked out on the snow that had started to fall. “Nah, the best beer in the world, you get in Thailand. I’ll show you one day.” Andy promised with a smile. “I’ll keep you to that promise, Andy. I can’t believe it has been two years since we last saw the boys.” Nile said and drank her beer before making a sign to the waitress to bring another round. “They are still the same. That’s the good thing about them, but I think that when we have celebrated New Year’s Eve, you should talk with Nicky about getting some more sniper training. He is the best teacher.” Andy suggested and took another beer. “It has been on my mind, but I’m also thankful for all the training, you have given me, Andy!” Nile replied in a grateful tone and found the cards in her pocket. “Don’t mention it, kid, but you do know, that you are gonna lose all your money, right?” Andy said and took the cards. “One day I will win it all back.” Nile replied in an optimistic tone.

When the women left the pub in the morning, Nile got a text from Joe. “The boys wish us a Merry Christmas and have reserved hotel rooms for us, but what does he mean with that I shouldn’t let you alone with the dynamite?” Nile wanted to know. “I might one time have blown up a hotel room, when I tripped over a box with dynamite and accidentally had a candle in the hands.” Andy replied and shook her head over that Joe had promised not to mention it again. “Seriously? What was a box of dynamite even doing in the hotel room in the first place?” Nile wanted to know. “Joe and I had picked the box up for a job and while we were waiting for the rest to show up, we started to drink some Turkish homebrew, we found it in the cupboard. We might have gotten a bit drunk, and when we heard noises, well one thing leads to another thing and the rest, you can guess.” Andy explained and made a mental note to have a talk with Joe about gossiping.

A couple of days later the women finally found the bar, Joe had told them about.

“Andy? Nile?” Nicky shouted from the stage and started to wave excitedly over seeing them. “Is he drunk?” Nile asked, when Nicky returned to signing. “He decided to start celebrating New Year’s Eve, when Samoa went into the New Year!” Joe explained and shook his head, before he hugged them. “He is your choice not mine.” Andy said, when she hugged him again. “I know it and I’m not even sorry.” Joe replied with a smile and looked at Nicky while making a sign that he should join them. “How long have you been bald?” Nile wanted to know. “Sadly, I’m not immune against lice. When we saved a couple of children, they all had lice and what was worse, but they are safe now, which is all that matters. My hair will grow out again.” Joe explained and caught Nicky, who tripped over his legs and landed in his arms laughing. “Seems like I keep on falling for you!” Nicky said in a cheesy tone and patted Joe’s cheek gently with a smile before kissing him. “As I said your choice.” Andy repeated and started to distribute the drinks between them. They talked for hours and drank even more. “I promised Nile to take her to Thailand, where you get the best beer in the world.” Andy said, when she took another beer. “That is not correct, Andy. The best beer in the world you get in Ireland, and I will show you.” Nicky said, but when he reached out for another beer, he fell off his chair and ended up on the floor laughing. “I better help him with finding a bed.” Joe said and offered Nicky a hand, who somehow had rolled over on his stomach and looked at the karaoke machine. “No, you have slaughtered enough ABBA for one night. So, I’m gonna give you the same choice, I did in the desert a long time ago: walk or I will carry you.” Joe said in a commanding tone, which did the trick. “See you tomorrow.” Andy said as the last thing, before they parted for the night. “Should we find another party?” Nile wanted to know, and Andy nodded. Before they ventured out into the night.

When they returned to the hotel room Joe helped Nicky down in a chair, so he could take off Nicky’s boots, before he kicked off his own boots. Then he went into the other room to remove the duvet from the bed, when a pair of familiar strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind pulling him near Nicky. They stood like this a bit, before Nicky turned Joe around, so he could look at him. “Remember when you danced with me in the bombed-out bar in Brussels right after the war?” Nicky asks and lays his forehead against his shoulder, brown hair brushing Joe’s nose. Nicky then takes Joe’s right hand in his left and presses closer to his neck, the scratch of his stubble making Joe close his eyes, letting memories wash over him. “You had found an old record player under the bar, who barely could play the record. You smiled, when you heard the lyrics of the song and we danced to it, even though I’m a terrible dancer,” Nicky said and Joe was ready to protest, but Nicky placed two fingers on his lips and he stayed quiet, lost in the depths of his blue eyes and the kiss that followed. “Can we do that again?” Nicky begged, and Joe didn't even blink. “Of course.” Joe finds the song on his phone and presses play, taking Nicky’s hand in his reverently, Nicky’s body fitting perfectly against his as they begin swaying lazily, two hearts beating in sync. when they reach the chorus, Nicky whispers in his ear in Arabic, “Yusuf, you make me the happiest man alive, Habibi.” And they share another kiss as the sun rises.

my creation

#marwan kenzari #yusuf al-kaysani #joe #nicky #nicolo di genova #luca marinelli #yusuf x nicolo #joe x nicky #nile freeman #kiki layne #andromache the scythian #charlize theron #the old guard

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warrioroflondonbelow · 4 years ago

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a-kitten-with-claws asked: 3 words - home, Christmas, food!

Send 3 words and I’ll write a drabble for our muses based on those words: ACCEPTING

II @a-kitten-with-claws

Plans are an odd thing to say the least. Sometimes you have those golden, once-in-a-blue-moon plans that fall perfectly into place. Everything works out to a T and there isn’t a single hiccup to be found. Although, most of the time, this isn’t the case. Things shift about, unexpectancy punches you in the face with a handful of brass knuckles, and all of life’s imperfections come out to play. Christmas Eve was not an exception, in this case. Richard and Kit had been planning this trip for months-- from the bed-and-breakfast cottage somewhere in a nice pocket of Ireland, to the train tickets, to even the fancy dinner they reserved. It seems that the two were going to get neither of these things. Instead, Kit was called back to deal with some spur-of-the-moment clients and Richard was roped into some last minute meetings, not to mention a surprise visit from Andy and his new wife. Not only that, but it seems that neither Kit nor Richard were getting on that train seeing that the gentle, falling snow quickly evolved into a dreary, London snowstorm. Plus, the inn they had booked at was undergoing emergency plumbing and had to shut down, so even if they wanted to go they’d have no place to stay. How perfect. That evening, Richard got back to an empty flat. Kit was still at work. To think, if their plan had fallen in place the two would be packing their bags and on the train by now... Still.... His eyes flashed over to their kitchen. Now, Richard wouldn’t count himself as the best chef. Hell, the dishes he made, unless it was bread, usually couldn’t be classified as a dish at all... But Christmas was a time for miracles. It was worth a shot.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’!” beamed Richard when Kit walked through the door, her dark hair sprinkled with flakes of snow. “Look, I know our Christmas isn’t goin’ as planned, but I though’ I’d try and cook us a special Christmas dinner. Aye, it’s nothin’ five-star, but either way, I hope ye’ like it,” he explained, a sheepish smile playing on his face, which was covered in stains of cranberry sauce and flour, as was his hair. The set up wasn’t anything posh. Richard just dimmed the lights of their flat and lit a couple of candles here and there. The two popped open a bottle of champagne that they got from their last trip to Paris, which was deadlier than expected seeing that the cork almost smashed through the nearby window. As for the food, it wasn’t anything a professional chef would write home about. For one, the potato stu was bland, the store-bought turkey that Richard heated up was dry, and the cranberry sauce and Christmas pudding? Well, best not to talk about that. And yet, none of that mattered as the two sat around their humble and extraordinarily average, Christmas feast. The two were happy. Happy and together on this blustering, snowed-in, Christmas Eve. In the end, that’s all that mattered.

#akittenwithclaws #there and back again;v #//THANK U FOR SENDING THESE MY DEAR!//#//I hope you like this!//#//sorry it got a little long but i got too carried away with these 2 <3//#the blog train goes queue queue #drabble;

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lickstynine · 5 years ago

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Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty-Nine

written with @ocsickficsideblog

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Kit was snoring away on Siofra’s shoulder when they pulled up in a cobbled drive. They weren’t really in Dublin proper anymore; Siofra’s gran actually lived a little ways north in the village of Malahide. The cottage they parked in front of was old but well-maintained with a thatched roof, ivy and flowers crawling over the walls. Siofra straightened up and elbowed Kit.

“Oi. We’re here.”

Kit snorted and sat up with a jerk, rubbing his eyes. “Hm?”

“We’re in merry old Ireland,” Alistair said. “At the house.”

“How is my hair?” Kit asked, looking in frustration around the back seat. “Ugh, this car doesn’t have passenger mirrors.”

Taddy snickered quietly. “Most cars don’t, sir.”

“Really?” Kit looked surprised, while Siofra shook her head, offering him a hairbrush and mirror from her overnight bag.

“Kit, good god, you are such a snob.”

Kit scowled indignantly. “I am not! I’m just used to nicer cars.” He smoothed his hair in the mirror, handing the brush back to Siofra. “Where did my mascara go?”

“Ye don’t need mascara.” Siofra scoffed, “You’re meetin’ my gran, not the Queen.”

“Kit wears mascara if he’s nipping to the loo,” Alistair said.

Siofra rolled her eyes. “Which bag did ye put it in?”

“Um… my toiletries bag, probably.”

“And which’o these thousand bags is that?” Siofra asked.

Kit paused. “Er… the smallest one, I think.”

“We’ll be here all bloody night,” Alistair groaned.

“I have my mascara.” Siofra offered, fishing in her bag again. “I know it’s probably cheaper’n yours, but I promise I don’t have fleas or nothin’.”

Kit paused. He hadn’t even thought of that — he wasn’t used to hanging out with people who wore makeup (save for Alistair’s emo eyeliner). “Oh. Okay.” He took the mascara from Siofra, tucking his glasses into his breast pocket and holding the mirror inches from his face to make himself up. He had to put the glasses back on to actually see if the mascara looked good, handing the mirror back to Siofra once he was satisfied. “Thank you.”

“Anything to actually get yer skinny arse in the house.” She grinned, kissing his cheek and helping him out of the car. Cillian and Riagán were already gathering luggage from the back, carrying pretty much everything despite the ridiculous number of bags Kit had brought.

“Kit, how much stuff do you need? We’re not moving in,” Alistair said.

“These are my travel bags.” Kit replied matter-of-factly. The only thing he carried was an expensive bottle of wine — he’d had Taddy pick it up while they were at the ball last night — it felt tacky to show up on Christmas without a gift. He had so many layers on, he actually didn’t look cartoonishly skinny for once, but he still shivered in the brisk winter air.

“It’s bloody freezing,” Alistair said, hugging his old jacket around him.

“Then grab yer bags so we can go inside. I gotta get the rest’o Princess’s shit.” Siofra said, slinging Kit’s sleek leather duffle bag over her shoulder. Finny ran happily around the yard, leaving pawprints in the crisp snow. Alistair cheered up and chased Finny, then hurled a snowball at Kit. The older boy shrieked, fumbling with the bottle in his hands.

“Al! You almost made me drop this! And that’s cold!”

“You’re going to be inside in two seconds. This is the point of snow, Kit.”

“Now I’m going to be damp when it melts. Snow is vile.” Kit huffed. Siofra snorted, gathering up the last of his bags and walking past him up to the front door.

“Come on, Princess, time to escape from the ‘vile snow’.” She teased, mimicking his accent. Kit huffed again, but he followed her up the walk.

“Am I going to have to share beds with one of your brothers?” Alistair asked. “How big are the bedrooms? They look like they’ll eat me.”

Siofra snorted. “Nah, we’ve got loads’o sleepin’ bags. There’s only two guest rooms, but nobody’s gotta share beds. The boys will probably share with Dad, an’ we gals can have the other room.”

Kit frowned, feigning offense. “Excuse you! I will not share my room with you commoners!”

“Yeah, right, you’d button yourself into her pyjamas if she was warm,” Alistair scoffed.

“I would not!”

“I mean, you’d probably fit, at least in the baggy ones.” Siofra grinned.

Kit’s cold-flushed cheeks went even redder. “Just knock before I lose my fingers to frostbite.”

“If ye insist, yer majesty.” Siofra banged on the painted front door, and it was promptly opened by an old lady who barely came up to her shoulder. “Hi, Gran! Sorry we’re so late, Kit’s family had a Christmas party yesterday.”

“At least ye had the decency to show up. This makes three years now Brogan can’t be bothered to haul ‘is lot across the pond. ‘Travellin’ at Christmas is too stressful,’ ‘e says. I’ll make ‘is bloomin’ life stressful if ‘e can’t be bothered to visit his own mother.” The old woman muttered, clearly quite annoyed with her son.

“Good to see you too, Gran. Me an’ dad an’ these idiots are always here for ya.” Siofra grinned. “Can we come in? We’ve got a lot’o bags to set down.”

“Oh, right, of course. In ye come, don’t want ye freezin’.” Gran stepped aside, making each of her grandkids lean down to kiss their cheeks as they walked by. Kit and Alistair shuffled in last. “And which o’these lads is yours, Siofra?” She asked, looking both boys up and down through glasses nearly as thick as Kit’s.

“The pretty one.” Siofra replied immediately. Alistair immediately scowled, but didn’t contradict her. Kit tried not to laugh, instead turning to smile at Gran.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. My name is Kit, this is my cousin Alistair.” He took a hand off the wine bottle to shake hers, then held the bottle out. “I know this isn’t much, but I wanted to bring something to thank you for having us.”

She took it at once, squinting down her bifocals at the elaborate script on the label. “Not much? It’s been years since I’ve even seen a bottle this nice. You’re more than welcome here!” Gran gave Kit a crinkly smile, and without warning, her arms wrapped around his waist in a friendly hug. He was clearly a little startled, but even Kit couldn’t be scared of a five-foot-nothing eighty-year-old woman. He hugged her back, hoping she would assume he was being gentle with her and not just the weakest grown man she’d ever met. When she let go, he smiled again.

“I really do appreciate you having us, and your home is lovely. My mum used to talk about growing up in a cottage like this…”

“Oh? And where is she from?” Gran asked.

“Pretty near here, actually.” Kit said, “I can never remember the name of the town, but she said it was by Drogheda.”

Gran grinned at him. “That’s not far at all! You’re practically family.”

“I suppose so, yeah.” Kit smiled. He wasn’t sure how to feel — it was strange, but nice, being treated like he was properly welcome. At the same time, he was terrified he might do something wrong and upset Siofra’s family. Without even realizing, he’d started shaking where he stood.

“Are ye alright, dearie? Ye look a bit pale. Ye should have a cake, I just made some.” Gran shuffled off to the kitchen, returning with a tray of tea and cakes.

Alistair had stepped right back and squatted by Finny, scared she’d try to hug him too. He didn’t know how to deal with old people. They always seemed to hate him, since he was rude and loud and clumsy. She set down the tray on the coffee table and squatted next to him.

“What are we hidin’ for?”

It made him jump. “Um, I’m not really hiding, as such. I’m just crap with new people.”

“I’m not new people. I’m old people. Come have a cake.” Gran said. That made Alistair grin a bit, and he generally always did as you said when you offered cake. She stood back up, leading him and Finny into the living room where Kit, Siofra, and Cillian were sitting on the couch, and Riagán sprawled across a sofa chair. They all had tea and cake, though Kit seemed much more interested in his tea, as usual. Alistair sat on the floor with Finny, giving him the odd lick of icing.

Gran smiled at the kids, settling into a rocking chair with her own tea and cake. “Ye said ye were at a party last night? How was it?”

“Er…” Kit wasn’t sure how to explain, but Siofra filled in.

“Posh and snobby, but the food was great. Mostly obnoxious old folk and their bratty offspring.”

Gran shrugged. “Long as they fed ya well.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Siofra grinned. “We shoulda taken pictures, I looked great in that dress…”

“You should wear it to a gig. It’ll look hilarious in that setting,” Alistair said.

Siofra snorted. “If I dressed that nice at a grimy old pub, I'd get mugged on my way out.”

“I’m amazed Kit’s never been mugged. Even me and Jasper were mugged, and Jasper is proud of the fact that he buys clothes in charity shops.”

“I don’t go in the parts of town where people get mugged.” Kit replied flatly.

“Even when you travelled?”

“I don’t… Good question.” Kit furrowed his brow, trying to think. “Maybe?”

“You don’t remember?” Alistair said.

“Honestly? No.” Kit shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you every country I’ve been to if my life depended on it. I certainly don’t remember what I did in every one.”

Gran was staring at him. “How much do you travel, son?”

Kit smoothed his slacks. “Well… not much anymore. There were a few years where I was jet-setting constantly.”

“Jet-settin’? What a fancy lad!”

“Well… I just… it’s not like that.” Kit stared sheepishly at his tea. Siofra snickered.

“He’s the fanciest lad,” Alistair said.

“I can tell! Siofra, ye should keep this one! He can fund the rest of my retirement.” Gran said.

“He could fund a million retirements,” Alistair muttered.

Kit groaned, his cheeks pink. “I’m not that rich. Please stop.”

“Not that rich? Ye own a bloody island!” Siofra cried. Kit hid his face in his hands, while Gran stared at him.

“It’s a lovely island when it’s not full of our family,” Alistair said. “Kit doesn’t like it though.”

“We’d be happy to take it off yer hands.” Gran grinned.

Kit chuckled. “I think Al has already claimed it in my not-yet-existent will.”

“I’d rather mourn you in the tropical sun.”

Kit rolled his eyes, while Gran and the Raffertys laughed. Siofra turned to her grandmother. “Speakin’o sons, where’s yours?”

“Ah, ‘e went to see some old friends on the way back from church. I only let ‘im go cause I didn’t think you’d be here so soon. ‘e shouldn’t be too long.” She explained. “And ‘e should be bringin’ food.”

“Good, I’m starving!” Siofra enthused, and her brothers nodded.

“Well, eat more cake, then. I didn’t bring it out to sit here and get stale!” Gran told them.

“We don’t have to go to church, though, do we?” Alistair groaned. “I had enough of that growing up.”

“We already went today, so yer blasphemous arse is free.” Gran smirked.

“My heathen arse is grateful.”

“Kids always are.” Gran shook her head, but she clearly wasn’t actually upset about him missing church.

“Do we have to go to midnight mass?”

Gran shook her head. “I’m too old for all’o that. I wanna be drinkin’ in my pyjamas at midnight.”

“Perfect,” Alistair said, nodding. She smiled at him.

“What do you boys usually do at Christmas?”

“Avoid our family at all cost.” Kit replied.

“Mooch off other families. I’ll need to Skype my fiancé on Christmas Day.”

“That’s today, lad. You’ll want to get on that.” Gran said. Siofra snickered.

“You know what I mean. When he’ll be awake.”

She gave him a strange look. “It’s afternoon. How late does ‘e sleep?”

“It’s afternoon?” He looked at his phone. “Oh fucking hell, I can’t do travelling.”

Siofra snorted, while Gran just shook her head. “Evidently.” There was the sound of keys rattling in the front door, and Finny ran over to bark excitedly. “Look who’s finally back.”

Even when the door opened, the frame was nearly filled. Mr. Rafferty was a massive man, almost six and a half feet tall, broad and muscular but with a slight dad belly. He had only a bit of shaved stubble around his head, but his vibrantly orange beard was long and full as a Viking’s. Kit was staring at him in a mixture of fear and awe, but Siofra ran to tackle her dad alongside Finny. He caught her easily, which further impressed Kit — he couldn’t stand up to a tackle from just Finny.

“There’s my gal! ‘ow ‘ave ye been?” Mr. Rafferty was a deep baritone like Riagán, with an even stronger accent, and he laughed when Siofra squeezed his neck.

“Good! I went to a posh party last night. It was wild. Everyone was stupid fancy, and the food was great!”

Gran had shuffled over, and she was tugging on both of them. “That’s nice, tell ‘im inside before we’ve got a foot of snow in the foyer!” Siofra laughed and let go of her dad so he could step out of the doorway.

Alistair raised his eyebrows at Kit. “Careful he doesn’t eat you.” Kit just nodded, nervously gawking while Siofra continued to chatter with her dad, now joined by her brothers. Kit wasn’t sure whether to introduce himself or wait to be introduced or just run and hide while he had the chance. Alistair got up and sidled over to Kit, sitting beside him. Kit scooted closer to his cousin at once, withering in his seat when Mr. Rafferty turned to look at him.

“So you’re the boy my daughter is so interested in?”

Kit nodded, trying to compose himself and look like less of a quivering pansy. “Yes, sir, I am. I was… my father… hosted the posh party Siofra was telling you about.”

“So I’ve ‘eard.” Mr. Rafferty nodded. “It’s a good thing ye come from money. I can’t see ye bein’ much of an athlete like my boys.” There was a bit of a grin peeking out of his beard.

That got a bit of a smile out of Kit. “No, sir, that was never my speciality. I was good enough at fencing and archery, but even that took me ages to get right.”

“He couldn’t pull back the bow,” Alistair mumbled.

“When I was younger, arse! At least I didn’t get banned for aiming at other people!” Kit huffed. Siofra and her family chuckled, especially Mr. Rafferty.

“You two sound like you’ll fit in just fine ‘ere. But you’ll fit in better if ye gimme a hand bringin’ food from the car.” He grinned properly, Siofra and her brothers already scrambling outside to gather dinner.

“You’d better stay here, Kit. I’ll go help them,” Alistair sighed.

“I can help. I have hands!” Kit got up to follow, but Gran grabbed his shoulder.

“Stay here, dearie. I need help settin’ the table, I trust you’re the least likely to break any plates.” She smiled, and he smiled back, nodding obediently.

“I can do that, yes. I know a really nice way to fold napkins, the maids showed me when I was little.” Kit said, following Gran into the kitchen. The two of them laid out the table, while Alistair and the rest of the Raffertys brought in chicken, ham, pie, potatoes, and mountains of other sides and sweets.

“Oooh, Kit’s doing his special napkins,” Alistair said as he went past.

“Any napkin is special to someone who’s never used one.” Kit quipped back. Gran and Siofra made almost identical snort noises.

“That’s probably the heaviest thing you’ve lifted this year. Except your wallet,” Alistair shot back.

“At least there’s something in my wallet. You might as well just put your ID in your pocket.”

“I’d just end up losing it then.”

Kit shook his head, smoothing a napkin before he folded it. “You are truly a disaster.”

“Can I help?” Alistair grabbed a napkin and started folding it into a paper airplane shape. Kit snatched it away.

“No. Help get the food ready, or put out silverware. You can’t break silverware.”

“I don’t break dishes, snobby.”

Kit sighed, taking a deep breath and lowering his voice. “Al. Please. I cannot do this today.”

“Kit. Sometimes you really need to learn to take a joke,” Alistair said, going back out to help with food. The older boy pursed his lips, silently going back to folding napkins. When he was done, he went around meticulously laying out the silverware, making sure each set was properly arranged and evenly spaced. Siofra rolled her eyes at him as she set a dish of potatoes on the table.

“We’re not expectin’ the queen, ya know.”

“The table can still look nice.” Kit shrugged. Alistair didn’t glance in his direction. He didn’t even look mad, just weary. Now that the table was set, Kit scuttled off to see if Gran needed more help. She had nearly half a dozen stronger assistants doing all the real work, so she simply tasked Kit with making tea. Alistair hovered awkwardly by the table, not sure what else he could do. Gran smiled at him.

“You can help me gather the extra chairs. I had to pull out the leaves of the table to fit everyone.”

He flashed her a quick smile, happy to be set a task, following her on a chair hunt. She guided him to various rooms around the house that had chairs to spare. Two from desks and one from a vanity got them the seven they needed, and Gran plunked down at the head of the table in a cushy desk chair. Alistair just sat at the edge of the table at the far end. He didn’t bother to check where Kit was sitting. Finny sat on Alistair’s feet since his human wasn’t sitting down yet.

Siofra brought drinks to the table, beer for her family and tea for the guests. Kit wasn’t bothered — he’d never been a fan of beer, he’d rather wait and have wine when they brought out dessert. He was bothered by the tension in the room, though; he could feel the frostiness radiating off of his cousin. He sat silently next to Siofra, staring at the tablecloth and rubbing the corner of his napkin between his thumb and forefinger. Alistair stayed put, simply hoping one of the less threatening members of Siofra’s family sat beside him. He was flanked by the brothers, who didn’t hesitate to lean over him and continue the argument they’d been having about rugby.

Gran reached as far as she could across the table, trying to smack them with her napkin. “Will you two stuff it for one minute? We have grace to say.”

Both boys retreated into their seats, holding out their hands obediently to start grace. “Sorry, Gran.”

“You’re forgiven. This time. Now, everybody hold hands and shut yer mouths.”

Kit did as told without question, the habit still ingrained though he hadn’t said grace in nearly a decade. Once Grandfather Victor passed, Reggie couldn’t be arsed with nitpicky traditions — he just wanted to eat. For Kit, it was almost too familiar, especially with the looming ginger giant across the table. Luckily, the memories faded when Gran spoke up, her croaky Irish lilt a far cry from the Raycrafts’ posh intonations. The prayer, too, was familiar, and Kit found himself mumbling along without even trying.

Bless us, O Lord, and these, they gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Alistair leaned back so Cillian and Riagán could join hands around him. He wasn’t going to scoff at religion but he wasn’t about to join in either. Kit swallowed a sigh, wishing his cousin had the slightest sense of courtesy. As everyone’s hands returned to their laps, Gran started doling out food, starting with the two closest to her — Kit and Mr. Rafferty. Kit mumbled that he didn’t need much, but she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, heaping both plates full of everything the table had to offer before moving on to feed her grandkids. She finally got to the end of the table, hovering over Alistair with a serving spoon.

“And what would you like, Mister Heretic?”

That actually made him smile a bit, and he gave her his orders looking a bit brighter. She piled his plate with potatoes and other sides before shuffling back around to her own seat and getting food. Alistair only managed to eat a bite or two before he felt a cold, wet, nose poking his leg.

He wasn’t sure they allowed feeding dogs from the table, and he didn’t have any meat anyway. He tried a dollop of mashed potato on a spoon, holding it under the table. Finny gobbled it up at once, nearly taking the spoon as well. Riagán and Cillian were both trying not to laugh at the slurping noise from under the table. Eventually, Riagán caved, letting out a muffled snort.

“Got a friend down there?” He whispered.

“Don’t tell your gran,” Alistair whispered back. .

Riagán nodded, silently dropping a bit of ham for Finny. Siofra didn’t notice, too busy chatting with her father and grandmother about upcoming performances and football games. Riagán and Cillian were more interested in eating than talking, while Kit was trying to find a way to tactfully do neither. He was still in a bit of a frail state from the ferry trip, and the steaming mountain of chicken, ham, potatoes, and vegetables all smothered in gravy, looked heavier than him and twice as sturdy. He didn’t even know where to start.

Siofra elbowed Kit lightly in the ribs. “It ain’t poisoned. We got ours from the same dish.” She teased. In a softer voice, she added, “Don’t be pressed about finishin’, but try to eat some.”

Kit forced a smile, slowly scooping up a glob of potato. As he’d feared, it was terribly rich, but the texture was smooth and buttery, and he didn’t hesitate so much going in for a second bite. There was something about homemade foods that got to him a little. As pretentious as it sounded, he was almost bored with the five-star-restaurant-style food Chef made. It was strange, and quite pleasant, to be able to taste the genuine effort and humanity in a dish.

Though it only made a small dent in the ridiculous heap of dinner he’d been given, Kit actually ate a lot more than usual. His chicken and vegetables were gone, along with a good bit of the potatoes, ham, and stew. He felt like there was still about another two days’ worth of food on his plate, and he thought he might die if he ate much more of it. He set his fork down carefully, smoothing his napkin and sipping his tea. Alistair glanced at him several times throughout the meal, but he tried to make it look like he wasn’t. He didn’t want to get on Kit’s nerves again, and he was still sore. He couldn’t eat like the Raffertys, but he managed to clear his plate.

All three Rafferty kids were well into their second plates, and their father had cleared his. Gran wasn’t quite as far along, but it was a lack of agility, not appetite, slowing her. She had just finished her first plate, and was now heaping enough stew and potatoes for five onto the freshly-emptied dish. When she saw Kit staring pensively into his tea, food still piled in front of him, she looked shocked.

“Done already? You’ve barely started!”

Kit looked up from his tea, smiling sheepishly. “Please don’t take offense. The food was lovely, really. I just don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Much’o one? Ya don’t seem to have any at all!” As a grandmother, Ms. Rafferty was legally obliged to be very upset about this.

Siofra cut in, knowing Kit would just cave if Gran kept going. “Gran. It’s fine. The plate was half as big as him.”

“Well that’s the point! If he eats it all, he might actually be up to a healthy weight!”

Siofra couldn’t help snorting at that, though she felt guilty when she saw Kit’s face go red. “I know ye wanna help, but you’re tryin’ to stuff a double-D tit in a double-A bra.”

Now Siofra’s brothers cracked up, and even Kit couldn’t help chuckling to himself. Alistair kept a straight face, but only because he was genuinely puzzling the logistics and wondering if that was actually possible. It must be very uncomfortable for the girl. Gran huffed, as if this were somehow a great affront to her. “Fine. But ye haven’t heard the last’o me.” She waved her spoon mock-threateningly at Kit, and he laughed again, hoping she hadn’t seen him flinch.

Dinner finished relatively without incident, except for Riagán’s failed attempt to sneak Finny a parsnip. The dog had no interest in it, and a displeased snorf from under the table caught Siofra’s attention.

“Oi! Which’o ya bastards is feedin’ my dog?”

Cillian feigned ignorance, looking at Riagán and Alistair with a dramatic glare to match his sisters. “Sneaky gits,” He muttered, as if he hadn’t palmed half a slab of ham under the table ten minutes ago.

“Grass,” Alistair muttered back. He couldn’t really deny it, his spoon was halfway under the table. Finny licked his hand gratefully, since Alistair had offered mashed potatoes, not a lousy parsnip.

Siofra rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna chop you lot up instead’o buyin’ dog food next month.”

“Don’t do that!” Kit cried, “Finny might die from a dumb-arse overdose.”

Now Siofra was cackling again, leaving Riagán to wave a parsnip menacingly at Kit. He made the mistake of moving his hand too far, and Siofra bit off half the parsnip. Kit blinked.

“Well. That was quite the emasculation metaphor.”

“Oi! Ya didn’t hafta make it dirty!” Siofra glared at him, though she was starting to snicker.

Kit held up his hands. “Don’t look at me, Circe. I’ll leave you and Jaime to it.”

“Ooh, you’re talkin’ about the Throne Games, yes? I love that show!” Gran said.

Kit spun around, clearly shocked. “You watch Game of Thrones?”

“Yes!” Gran nodded. “I like Daenerys. Her hair is lovely, and she always seems to bag the tastiest young men.”

Kit nearly choked trying not to spit tea on the table, while all three grandchildren snorted with laughter. Mr. Rafferty looked horrified. “Mum!”

“Don’t ‘mum’ me! Yer dad’s been dead for twenty years, let a woman live!”

Alistair looked baffled, feeding Finny under the table. “They’re all mad,” he muttered to him. He didn’t see the irony there. Finny responded with a cheerful ruff, causing Siofra to turn around again.

“Are ya still feedin’ the dog?”

“No,” Alistair lied. “I’m just chatting to him.”

Siofra stared silently at Alistair for a while, trying to figure out if he thought she was that stupid, or if he was just that stupid. Eventually, she just shook her head and went to get another beer. Kit rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a little. Alistair didn’t know what Kit was smiling at. Probably Siofra. He went back to petting and surreptitiously feeding Finny. Siofra smacked him in the arm with her beer bottle when she returned.

“You’re about as stealthy as a yellow elephant.”

“That means ye can sneak past the colourblind!” Gran chimed in. Even her own son looked at her, not sure if she was kidding or going senile. She left them to wonder, heaping more potatoes onto her plate and going back to eating.

#misadventures of Kit #chapter twenty-nine #kit #raycraft #alistair #siofra #riagan #cillian #rafferty #collab #ocsickficsideblog #it's been over a year since the nano where we started this but who gives a fuck

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cescalr · 6 years ago

Note

ME would like to suggest some fluffy willoughby/don

Don had invited Will over for Christmas.

Their year at Whitewater College, a boarding school purely for sixth-form students, had been fine. so much as any year after what happened at Slaughter could be fine. And it was fine because Clemise was in some other country, and Don had taken a few months, but he did get over their break-up. And it was fine because Don felt somewhat - he wouldn’t say traumatised by the events of that night, but… he wouldn’t say he didn’t feel in some way terrible about them, even now, if he reminisced too long on what happened.

But. That’s that, really. Don doesn’t dwell too much. You just got’t’deal with this sort’ve thing, y’know? Deal, and move forward.

Anyway. It’s Christmas. There’s no point bringing down the holiday cheer by thinking on that.

[Fic continued under break, or you can read it on Ao3; my profile is linked on my blog!! I’d put it here but tumblr is stupid and external links break tags.]

Don looked over from his place lying down to where Will was, still fast asleep on the mattress they’d set out for him. It was early morning, still – the light coming through the blinds in lines, brightening up parts of the room and, unfortunately, shining straight into Don’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Don muttered to himself, as he sat up in order to get away from the too-bright sunlight. “Too early. Shit.”

Well. Not that early; the sun didn’t rise until it was actually morning in winter, unlike the bullshit you got during summer – but still. Regardless, Don hadn’t been quiet enough, it seemed, because Will stirred.

After he blinked away sleep, Will seemed to register what day it was.

“Merry Christmas, Ducky,” He said, as he sat up. Don had tried to get him to use the proper bed and let Don sleep on the mattress instead, but Will had refused.

Truthfully, he wasn’t so bothered about that. It meant no springs digging into his back while he tried to sleep, after all.

“Merry Chris’mas,” Don replied, “Or, It would be, if y’d stop callin’ me Ducky.”

“We’ve had this argument for over a year, Ducky.” Will smiled. “You’re too late, it’s stuck.”

Don grumbled lightly and without heat as he scooted to the end of the bed then stood (so he didn’t end up standing on Will – Don’s bedroom isn’t very big), stretched and moved out of the room.

Once he was back from the bathroom, Will was dressed.

“Y’ever ‘eard of a ‘lazy day’?” Don asked, dryly. “Y’know… what Chris’mas is t’mos’ people?”

“I have,” Will said, plainly.

“Alrigh’ then,” Don rolled his eyes. “C’mon. Breakfast.”

They were home for Christmas, of course, but that didn’t mean the teens at Whitewater didn’t throw a week-long event – mostly drinking and partying in the art department’s basement, thrown by the drama club, because of course – in preparation.

“Donnie!” A girl, rather drunk, called out. “Blakey, Donnie! Over here!”

“Lauren,” Don replied. Will greeted in kind, and the two made their way through the crowd to the girl and the rest of the group.

“Neither of you are drunk yet, and it’s five somewhere!” She exclaimed, shoving two plastic cups of some alcoholic beverage into their hands. “Also, Danny got his sister to cough up the you-know-what, so we’ve got some brownies if you want any!”

“They only just arrived, Lauren, stop trying to get our friends addicted to pot,” Sam said, sighing, as he rolled his eyes. He was sat on a free stool, a book in one hand, and a water bottle gripped tightly and protectively in the other.

“Chill, Sam,” Lauren said, loud enough to be heard over the pounding of whatever EDM mess the ‘DJ’ had decided to play.

“I’ll chill when you stop trying to spike my drink, bestie,” Sam said, dryly.

“You know I love you!” Lauren sing-songed, then grinned. “Oh, my girl’s over there – Sammy, dear, show these lot where the food an’ shit is, yeah?” And with that, she was off – Don lost her in the crowd mere seconds after she’d entered it.

Sam rolled his eyes. “C’mon then,” Sam said, standing. “Food’s on the other side.”

As they walked, Don spotted various different people he’d met over his first year at Whitewater. There was Alex, Lillian, Sabrina, Derek – to name a few.

(Of course, there was Jesse, Zak, Michael – but… well, they didn’t really count as much. Though, Zak was talking with Alex; his cousin. Maybe he’d end up a better person in the new year? Only time would tell, Don supposed.)

“Y’ gotta have fun!” Lillian said, grinning. Sabrina slung her arms around their shoulders. “An’ us homosexuals have to stick together,” She added, swinging them around to face the drinks table instead of the buffet. “meaning - I need some money; buy my wares.”

“I recommend the ecstasy,” Lillian chimed in.

“You would,” Will said, smiling, as he carefully extracted himself from Sabrina’s grip. Don stepped away, and walked over to the table. “Five o’clock somewhere,” He said, shrugging.

“Right on,” Derek grinned, appearing out of nowhere. “I heard drugs.”

“Wanker,” Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I thought you were off with your mates?”

“And miss my main friendos?” He laughed, loudly. “No-way, broseph! I’m tryin’ t’ be a bit more sportsmanly, y’know? More of a team player.”

“They’re not gonna let you on the lacrosse team, Derek,” Lillian said, “Not after last time.”

Derek shrugged. “I can try,” He said, solemnly, and then was gone again.

“Jesus Christ,” Sabrina muttered, rubbing at her forehead. “Anyone else get a headache from his sheer presence?”

“I’m still trying to figure out his species,” Sam said. “I’ve figured Alien, but what kind…” He mused.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lillian dismissed. “Drink! Food! Illicit substances to fuel our various addictions, be they basic-bitch or hardcore asshat! Let’s go!”

Don rolled his eyes, and downed his drink.

And that had been the main theme of it.

So. Don had been home for a fair few days, now; Whitewater let you home for the week before, of, and after Christmas, and Don had made the most of it. It’d been a real long time since he’d seen what few mates he’d had back home – what with Slaughterhouse and then joining Whitewater after being cooped up at home for his mandated week-long ‘recovery’ period, after which he was supposedly supposed to be all better now, off you trot, and then the Christmas he’d spent at home with his mum as the actual ‘recovery’ period, according to her, and then another whole few months before summer, but then his mates had been out of the country, so then it was another couple months until now but - whatever. He’d hung out with what mates he had left, that first week, meaning Josh and Terri and James – Josh’s girlfriend and brother respectively. They played video games and smoked in the empty park and pretty much did exactly the same sort of shit they’d been doing when his mum had been wholly convinced that he was ‘depressed’.

Then Josh and Terri and James went off to Ireland for Christmas, and – Will came to stay. For Christmas week.

And then Will got a phone call, and now he was just going to stay until college started up again, and go back to Whitewater with Don. Logically. Practically.

Don – didn’t really need to ask.

Anyway.

“Ah hope you boys are ‘ungry,” His mum said, plating them and herself a full English. “Chris’mas is the only time ah bother, so you both better enjoy it!”

“Thanks, mum,” Don said, and she smiled and squeezed his shoulder lightly as she walked past. “Thank you,” Will said.

(“Thank you for having me over, M-“ Will started.

Babs’ smile dimmed. “Babs is fine, don’t you worry yourself with formality,” She said, warmly. “Come on in, it’s freezing!”)

“Eat up,” Babs encouraged. “You’re both growing boys, and we’ve presents to open!” She smiled, conspiratorially; they’d gone out Christmas shopping with her individually, and so she knew what they’d gotten each other, and appeared to be having the time of her life with this knowledge.

Don ate his breakfast.

“So. This one of the posh twats you replaced your old mates with, then, eh Don?”

“Josh,” Don greeted. “Bit of a dickhead but the right sort.” He told Will. “Will, Josh.” Don gestured.

“Willoughby Blake,” Will said, “And not too much of a twat, I wouldn’t say. You?”

“Josh Blythe, and I ain’t no dickhead to good people, y’ prat,” Josh said, scowling a little at Don. He fished a pack of smokes out of his pocket. “Fag?”

Will smirked. “Yes;” He said, “I also, do indeed, smoke.”

“Cool,” Josh said, tossing him one. “Terri’s my girl, now, by the way.” He told Don.

“Terri… Blythe?” Don cracked a smile. “That’s a bit awkward, innit?”

“Oi, sod off,” Josh flipped him the bird, then set about lighting his own cig. “Blythe’s a plenty common name.”

“I wonder why…” Will trailed off, leaning against the low stone wall.

“Yeah yeah,” Josh rolled his eyes. “Nothin’ James hasn’t said yet.” He scowled slightly. “Fucken’ incest jokes… made by my own goddamn brother…”

“How’s everythin’ at St. Dunstan’s anyway?” Don asked, changing the topic.

“David’s still a right prat,” Josh said, thankful for the change in track. “Ah heard George is expectin’, but she could just have the flu. Maybe she’s dyin, ah don’ fucken’ kno’. We never talk, do we? Fucken – anyway, Muhammad got into that right fancy college, so he fucked off, along with his family, and jus’ about ev’ryone else ‘as gone t’ some other sixth-form. Yanno, ‘cept me, ma brother and Terri. There are some new arseholes, but they stick to each other.”

“Dunstan’s was always a shithole anyway,” Don said.

“Damn right,” Josh stood, dropped his cigarette to the floor and put it out with the heel of his trainer. “You gotten rusty at Halo since ya fucked off t’ the posh south or what?”

“I did better than you las’ week, y’ dick’ead,” Don said, dropping off of the wall. “C’mon. Y’ever played Halo, Will?”

“It’s fucking freezing.” Will said. “Why are we walking around the town centre?”

“’Cause we got nothin’ else t’do, obviously,” Don said, stomping through the snow. “An ah wan’t’ get an idea of wha’ ah wan’t’ get for my friends, you twat.”

“Should have done this earlier on, then,” Will said, glancing around. “Most places are closed.”

“’Course they’re fuckin’ closed, it’s a Sunday,” Don said, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’ mean there ain’t shit in the windows, y’ twat.”

“Of course,” Will said, glancing around again. “What’s that?” He pointed.

“Fuckin expensive piece of shit, that’s what tha’ is,” Don said, but he walked over to the shop Will was pointing at anway. “Never been inside – ah think they’d chase me off.” He said, dryly. “Smell the fuckin working class on me or some shit, like fuckin’ bloodhounds.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ducky,” Will said.

“There’s fuckin’ diamonds on those ten-thousand pound and up watches, Willoughby, I ain’t going anywhere near that shit.”

“Come on.” Will said, “It’s the only place that’s open.”

“The fuckin’ Macdonalds is open, Willoughby – oh, for fuck’s sake, fine.”

Don walked after Will, who’d already entered the store.

Don looked around, as he caught up with his friend.

“There’s perfectly fuckin’ good watches elsewhere, Will,” Don said. “What a fuckin waste of ten grand, Christ on a bike…”

“I’ve seen better watches,” Will agreed. “But we’re looking at the ones with price tags, which is stupid. Come on. They usually put the better things near the back.”

“The ones with – Willoughby,” Don said, “What –“

“Here we are.” Will said, satisfied.

The watches did not have diamonds on them, which was preferable – but they didn’t have price tags, which was worrying.

“Why the fuck would you look at the ones without price tags?” Don asked.

“Because you can look at them.” Will said, pointing to the fact that they weren’t hidden behind what seemed like five hundred layers of glass and security measures. “And they’re not particularly garish, are they Ducky?”

“No,” Don said, warily, squinting at the watches. “Ah guess not. But this is pointless, I’m – prob’ly jus’ goin’t’ get a watch where ah got my last one, I mean, it lasted a good while.”

“It lasted a year Ducky, that’s terrible,” Will said. “Mine broke the year before last, but I’d had it for nearly nine by that point, and it broke because I broke it.”

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” Don said. “Perfectly good fuckin’ watch.”

“I am aware of that, yes.” Will frowned at the watches. “Do you like any of them?” He asked.

“Can’t fuckin’ afford any of this shit, can I?” Don asked. “Humour me,” Will said.

Don rolled his eyes and huffed, but did take a proper look at each of the watches in turn.

“That one,” Don said, pointing at a simple black-leather and silver with a white clockface and normal, black numerals and clock hands. “Most normal fuckin’ watch here.”

“Man of simple tastes,” Will smiled. Don elbowed him. “Fuck off. Not all of us are fancy posh twats – hell, I think y’d like a pocket-watch, fuckin – I know you would, you’re like that.”

“Like what?” Will asked.

“A posh, sentimental git, obviously.” Don said. “C’mon, let’s go.” He said.

“My cover’s been blown,” Will said, smiling, and Don rolled his eyes. “Fuck off,” He said, good-naturedly, grinning as they left the store.

Previous Summer:

“How are ya this fine mornin’?”

Don glanced over at Terri. “Not bad,” He said. “You’ll be off t’ Ireland tomorrow, righ’?”

“Nail on the head,” Terri said, dropping down onto the floor beside him. “Josh’s scramblin’, try’na pack all his crap. James is off, prob’ly somewhere with George.”

“Thought she had the flu,” Don said.

(George nearly always ‘had the flu’.)

“Those bitches are getting fucking married, y’know tha’,” Terri snorted. “Or haven’t ya seen the loving couple? No fuckin’ flu or baby rumours are gonna keep ‘em off each other’s backs.”

“Guess not,” Don said. “Smoke?”

“Nah.” Terri waved a hand. “Try’na quit.”

Don snorted. “Bet Josh loved that.”

“He’s a dick’ead, but you knew tha’,” She laughed. “God. Love ‘im tho’.”

“Yeah.” Don said.

“You ‘ave a girl?” Terri glanced at him.

“Did,” Don said. “Clemsie.”

“Clemsie?” Terri shook her head. “Posh fuckin’ princess?”

“Don’t,” Don said, shortly. “She had to move country, with ‘er fam’ly. We broke up ‘cause o’ tha’.”

“Shit, Don, sorry.” Terri sighed. She clapped him on the shoulder, then leaned over to look him in the eye. “Still. Better to be friends than to lose everythin’ over a long-distance piece of shit relationship, righ’?”

Don thought of Meredith and Audrey, and winced.

“Definitely,” He said. “We video call. It’s – not that… we didn’ get t’be together very long. Tha’elps, ah guess.”

“Helps a lot.” Terri shook her head, then flopped back against the wall. “’Elps a fucking lot.”

“Yeah,” Don said.

“Y’make any friends at those posh schools o’ yours?” Terri asked. “Other than that Clemsie chick?”

“Kay, Will.” Don said. “Lauren, Sam, Sabrina, Lillian, Derek, Daniel-“

“See, fuckin’ knew you’d thrive there,” She said, shoving him in the shoulder and grinning. “Always though’ y’ deserved better than fuckin St Dunstan’s.”

“So do you lot,” Don protested. “It’s a shithole, nobody deserves that.”

“Victims of fuckin’ circumstance, the lot of us,” She said, slumping back. “But I mean it.” She turned her head and looked at him. “Y’ the best o’ all o’ us, y’ prat. Accept it. Well. I mean, Muhammad’s a medical fuckin’ genius, but that’s a whole different ballpark and he’s a hopeless twat mostly, so I don’t count him If I did, he’d be the best no question – but yanno. I’m comfortin’ you, ‘ere.”

“Thanks,” Don said, dryly.

“No problem.” She grinned, and shoved him lightly in the shoulder again. “C’mon. Dad recently fixed up an old foosball table o’ his fam’ly’s, an’ I wan’na see if you’re any better than Josh or his bro,” She clapped him on the shoulder. “An’ maybe you can tell me all ‘bout your new friends, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Don said. “Sure.”

“Terri?” Don asked.

“Yeah? Oh, Don,” She unlatched the door and opened it. “Come inside, it’s fucking cold. God, I hate winter,” She slammed the door shut behind him.

“Do you know anywhere I could get a pocket watch?” Don asked.

“At an affordable price? Yes, of course, never doubt me,” She spun on her heel. “Or, rather, never doubt my dad. Dad!” She yelled.

“Wha’?” A voice boomed back.

“Y’know where we could find a custom watchmaker’s that ain’t damn expensive?”

“Yeah. I’ll drive yeh. Say ‘hello’ t’ Don for meh!”

“How the fuck does he know?” Don shook his head.

“The man has magic, I swear to god. It fuckin’ annoys me I got mum’s genes in that matter.” Terri grumbled, and walked into the living room. She dropped onto the couch, and Don followed suit.

“Is this for that boy o’ yours?” Terri asked, grinning lazily as she leaned back on the couch.

“He’s – why d’y’ have t’put it like tha’?” Don leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“’Cause I like to make people question things,” She said, “Obviously.” Terri stood and moved into the kitchen, then returned with two cokes. “Here,” She tossed him a can. “It’s shit but mum’s addicted me to it, damn the woman.”

Terri dropped onto the beanbag. “Here’s to a very fuckin’ Merry Christmas, y’ prat,” She grinned as she lifted the can in imitation of a toast.

“Hear hear,” Don opened the drink and returned the toast.

“Dad’ll be done in a few minutes,” Terri said, “But – in all seriousness, is this your prezzie for Willoughby or what?”

“Yeah,” Don said. “Fuckin’ git’s as fancy and sentimental as it gets, so…”

“Y’ sentimental y’self, ya prat,” She said, fondly. “Which is why we’re goin’ the whole nine fuckin’ yards, ‘cause a custom one’s a better fuckin’ gift than any stock shit. Better quality, usually, too, ‘cause the maker actually cares about the fuckin' end product.”

“I’m not fuckin’ sentimental, much,” Don said.

“No, y’ just sappy, y’ fuckin prat,” Terri sunk down into the beanbag chair. “Don’ lie to me, Don, I’ve known ya for nearly our whole lives, mate. And I’m older, so I win.”

“If I’m sappy y’re twelve,” Don put the coke can down on the floor, unfinished.

“And proud of it,” She grinned at him. “Only way I can win arguments, I ain’t no good with words.”

“How’d you do in English?” Don asked.

Terri pursed her lips and sighed. “Fuckin failed it, didn’t ah?” She glowered at nothing. “Good fuckin’ thing I can drop out ah sixth form and jus’ go for a level four apprenticeship, huh? Or was it three…” She trailed off, frowning as she thought.

“Eh, whatever.” She chucked her empty coke can into the bin. “Score,” She grinned. “Anway,” Terri turned her attention back to Don. “You’re a total sap, I’ve got evidence. Point is, I’m strong-arming you to go the whole nine-fuckin’ yards, because even tho’ I can trust you to do it on yer own, without me you’ll totally get scammed out o’ your money.”

“Terri,” Don said, flatly.

“What? Who out’a the two of us knows trade, huh? Not you, y’git.” She grinned. “Also I wanna know exactly what inscription y’ put on the fuckin’ thing.”

“Fuck off,” Don said, leaning back onto the couch. “Thanks.”

“Mixed messages, there, oh Donald,” Terri grinned, and dodged the cushion he threw at her. She picked it up and put it under her head, her grin turning self-satisfied. “I always win,” She reminded him.

“No you don’t,” Don said. “Remember the trip to Wales, in year eight?”

“We never talk about the trip to Wales in year eight,” Terri said, automatically. “That’s the first rule of our friendship. Right above ‘we don’t talk about Alex Connors.’”

“Noted,” Don said, sitting up. “Which is above ‘there was never a Chase Johnson’.”

“See, he gets it,” Terri grinned at Don. “We keep each others' dirty little secrets, we get along.”

“Blackmail is the only reason we’re friends,” Don said, dryly.

“And don’t you forget it!” She grinned, laughing, and fell backwards onto the beanbag.

“You two. Got t’ get goin’ now.” Her dad said, suddenly appearing at the doorway. How the six-foot-five craftsman managed this had always been and always would remain a mystery.

Don’s started to believe the story that he killed a strange looking wasp that had holed up alone in it’s hive in the attic of a customer’s house and that’s what gave him his strange abilities a lot more since the events at Slaughterhouse.

After all – Meredith’s not dead, and neither is the dog. The dog which looks exactly like the one in the paintings… of a dog that had lived hundreds of years prior.

“We’re ready, come on,” Terri said, standing, and Don followed the two Blythes out of the house.

“Ah, Terri Blythe, it’s been a long time.”

“Heyo, Uncle Terrance,” Terri said, stepping up to the counter. “Ma friend ‘ere – Don, y’ remember? – needs to get a prezzie for his boy.”

“Terri,” Don said, sighing.

“What?” She looked at him. “Fuck off, you idiot. Ah’ve squinted at your act for a week, bitch, I know exactly how you feel about him. Or do we need to talk about Alex?”

“Fuck off,” Don said. “Hullo, Mr. Connolly.”

“Donald Wallace,” The man said, surprised, as he removed his glasses to quickly clean them, then replaced them on his face, mostly all the way down his nose, in order to squint at Don as if he wasn’t sure Don was actually what he was seeing. “My my, it’s been – how long?”

“’Bout a decade, Uncle Terry,” Terri said.

“Indeed.” The man replaced his lens cleaning cloth back into his pocket, like some old-timey handkerchief. “So what brings you both here?”

“Like ah said,” Terri stated, slowly, “He needs to get a present for his friend for Christmas.”

“My dear boy, it’s only four days away!” The elderly man said, agitated, as he went about retrieving various designs and sheets for pricings. “I can make it in that time, of course, and as always you will get the family discount – but you’ve left yourself very little time to plan!”

“Ah only came up with the idea yesterday.” Don winced.

“That’s even worse!” The man came to a stop, the desk that served as the counter piled high with various pieces of paper. “You’ll need to make the decision today, but you can ask for the inscription upon completion, thank the lord above,” The man narrowed his eyes at Don. “And next time, son, figure things out before the deadline!”

“Righ’,” Don said. “Will do.”

“Good.” The man sighed, relieved. “Now. Take a look,” He gestured to the pile, “And tell me which parts of which designs suit best. And remember – family and Christmas discount, so don’t say no for no good reason.”

Don nodded, somewhat awkwardly, as he started rifling through the papers. Terri wandered off, to browse through the clocks, which included watches - pocket and otherwise – lining the walls and displayed, lovingly, across tables.

“Eight years old,” The elderly man shook his head as he muttered. “And now – you’ll be graduating soon, I imagine?”

“There was an incident,” Don said, “At the firs’ sixth-form ah went t’. After tha’, we ‘ad t’ repeat lower sixth at a new place. So, uh. One more year.”

“I see,” The elderly man inspected a watch hung on the wall and frowned, then set about buffing out an invisible scuff mark. “Where did you go?”

“Slaughterhouse School,” Don said, and the man froze.

“In Slaughter,” The man – stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Don said. “The School –“

“Blew up, yes, I heard.” The elderly man pursed his lips. “A right shamble. Still, at least you got out safely.” The man turned away from the watch on the wall, then cleaned his glasses – avoided eye contact. “… What really happened?”

Don looked blankly at him.

“I may be old, Donald, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know things.” Terrance squinted at him, then put his glasses back on. “Fracking doesn’t usually cause that sort of damage.”

“Well,” Don said. “They weren’ very –“

“Responsible Frackers, I know,” The man’s nostrils flared. “They give it a bad name, that company. No, what I mean is – stories spread. Legends… an old clockmaker hears things.” The man sighed, and looked at the pictures of his customers on the wall behind the counter.

In a few of them, there was a familiar dog.

“Big fuck off mole rats,” Don said. “We had to blow it up.”

“We?” The man’s head snapped over to Don. “How many people killed them?”

“… Dunno,” Don said. “Mr. ‘Ouseman killed one, mostly, then we beat it the rest o’ the way dead. Then – I used Will’s snuffbox to get another, an’ the lighter Will’d been bequeathed to blow up the school – usin’ the gas,” Don explained. “Clemsie killed a li’le one.”

“I see.” The man paused. “Well. I suppose we’ll see how that turns out eventually.”

“Wha’ d’y’ mean?” Don asked.

“Here.” The man said, instead, handing Don a stack of designs. “Find your friend a pocket watch. And think up an inscription, while you’re at it! Don’t leave that as last minute as you left this! I need to talk to my niece. If you’ll excuse me…” And with that, the old man had bustled him off and walked away, over to Terri who was poking a stuffed cat.

“Merlin died then?” Don heard.

“Not all pets can live forever,” The man sighed. “It’s a burden some must face alone.”

Don looked back up at the pictures.

1891

1912

1925

1956

1993

2001

2014…

Don frowned, then shrugged, and looked down at the designs.

Design 3048: Forever.

Design 246: Eternal.

Design 13: Infinite…

Don raised his eyebrows, then shrugged, and started picking out parts of the designs he thought Will might like.

Previous Summer:

“The Johnsons moved to America?”

“No Idea where they go’ the money either, mate,” James said, leaning back on the couch. Terri, from her place on a cushion on the floor, chuckled. “Inheritance, got’t’ be,” She said, as she dispatched of a few grunts. James nodded as he circle-strafed around a hunter.

“No wonder I ah’ven’ seen Mikey ‘round.” Don said.

“They didn’ tell nobody,” Terri scowled. “Fucken’ Lillian didn’ even bother tellin’ her bes’ friend, the wanker.”

“Lisa cry on your shoulder ‘bout it?” Don asked.

Terri grimaced as she picked up an energy sword, then started running around hitting elites with it. “Yes.” She said, glowering at the TV. “There was snot and everything. Fucken’ wan’ed t’ punch Lil’ for tha’.”

“Can imagine,” Don said.

“’Course y’ could, y’ sap,” James said, and Don elbowed him, which caused him to fail in circle-strafing and get shot.

“Bastard,” James said, elbowing Don back, and Terri laughed, finding an enemy-less corner so James could respawn.

“Willoughby Blake,” Terri said. “Don kno’ yer ‘ere?”

“I have it under good authority that you’ve known him for a very long time,” Will said, “And I was wondering if you could distract him for a – short while, while I go get his Christmas present?”

“Fucken’ell, mate, what’s with posh bastards and waitin’ ‘til the las’ minute?” Terri grumbled, but she stepped inside, and left the door open. Will hesitated before following, and stayed at the door while she put on her boots. “Relax, y’ twit,” She waved a hand, before she started doing up the laces. “I don’ bite.”

“Alright,” Will said, and moved to lean against the wall.

“Da’, I’m off! Seeing the Wallaces!” Terri shouted, as she stood. Terri grabbed her coat off of the stairs, at the end of the bannister, and threw it on. “Fucken’ cold out, innit?” She said, as she walked out of the house. Will followed. “Yes,” He said. “Quite.”

“Post twat,” She said. “You be good to Don, y’ ‘ear meh?”

“I-“

“Don’ even,” Terri warned. “I ‘ate liars. Now go ge’im somethin’ fucken’ nice, and don’ le’im say ‘no’ ‘cause ya spent money on it, ya hear me?”

“Roger that.” Will said, “Ma’am.”

Terri snorted. “Ge’ the fuck out’t’ ‘ere, y’ posh bastard. An’ I expec’ somethin’ nice enough, too, for the good fucken’ advice ah give ya both, y’ blind twits.”

“Initiation’s simple, bitches.” Terri slammed a crate of beer onto the table. “Drink me under, an’ ah’ll respect ya fer life.”

“Y’ for real about this, Terri?” Don asked.

“Well, no, bu’ it’ll ‘elp,” Terri said. “Wha’, col’ feet already, Wallace?”

“No,” He rolled his eyes and gestured with the beer he’d already picked up. “Jus’ remember when Mikey drank you under the table?”

“Not my best momen’, bu’ I’m tryin’ t’ recover from tha’, ‘ere. Whoever ‘andles their drink bes’ wins.”

“Ah know who’s gonna fucken’ lose ‘ere, then.” Don said.

“Fuck off, Ducky,” Will said. Terri grinned.

“Fuck’s sake, Willoughby,” Don downed some of his drink.

“Don, Donald, Duck, Ducky. Ah ge’ it, tha’s cute,” Terri grinned, leaning back on her beanbag. She downed a beer, then slammed the empty can down on the floor. “Pacing’s for wimps,” She announced to the ceiling.

“If y’ say so,” Don said. “’S no’ fuckin’ cute.”

“I’m older, what I say goes, it’s cute,” Terri said. “Get me drunk enough, Blake, mate, an’ I’ll tell ya stories about ‘ow much of a sap ‘e is.”

“Fuck off,” Don said. “Or I’ll bring up Cha-“

“Two can play at tha’ game, Donald Wallace,” Terri said, interrupting, as she reached over for another can.

“I have to say, I am curious,” Will said, supressing a smile of amusement. He was onto his second can.

“Ah-ah,” Terri waved a hand at him. “Y’ get t’ know Don’s embarrassing shit, but ah jus’ met ya. Which means y’ don’ get t’ kno’ mine… problem ‘ere is if ya ‘ear Don’s from me, ‘e’ll tell ya about mine. So, yanno, that ain’ ‘appenin’.”

“Shame,” Don said, downing his drink. “Really.”

Lunchtime on Christmas Eve saw a small get-together, with the two Blythe families and the Wallaces.

“Lisa’s still fuckin’ angry at Lil’, an’ she’s over at her gran’s for the yearly fam’ly gatherin’, so she ain’ showin’ up this year. Jus’ us lot, Mrs. Wallace,” Terri said. The two families would be leaving later on, to be in Ireland for the next day. Cutting it a bit close – but then, that was the Blythes, for you. Both sets of them.

Babs smiled at the two sets of Blythes as she stood aside and let them in. “It’s Babs, Terri,” She reminded the girl, like she’d been doing for years. “Come on. Group photo – Don, grab the camera, I’ll go get Dad.”

“Mum-“ Don started, but she was already gone. He sighed, shook his head. “He’s fine where he is,” Don mumbled, but he went to go get the camera anyway.

“Ev’ryones ‘ere,” Don said to Will. “Terri, James, Josh, David; ah, Terri’s dad, an’ Mr. and Mrs. Blythe.”

“So all the Blythes, then,” Will said. “Christmas eve dinner?”

“Fucken’ lunch, mate,” Don said. “Dinner’s later.”

“Ah, but it’s breakfast, dinner, and supper or tea.” Will said.

“Fuck off,” Don said. “We’re doin’ a fuckin’ group photo. Mum’s gettin’ dad’s urn. Let’s go.”

Will nodded, and followed Don into the living room. It wasn’t too cramped, but it was a fair bit cramped. Babs placed the urn on the mantlepiece of the electric fire. “Ev’ry one, gather round, I’ll jus’ set up the camera.” She said, taking it from Don. “Found out a remote activation method, bloody handy,” She explained as she went. The Blythes used the urn as a dividing line, and made sure to leave enough space for the three remaining individuals. “C’mon,” Terri said, gesturing. Don walked over and stood next to his dad, and Will, being tall, went on the back row, between and behind Terri and Don. “There we go,” Mrs. Blythe muttered, then smiled at them. There was space on the other side of the urn for Don’s mum, though it was a bit of a squeeze, and as Babs set up the camera, she asked everyone to move a bit closer in, so they were all in frame, and posed properly. Babs then quickly squeezed into place, and they all smiled at the camera as the flash went off a few times.

“Great!” Babs smiled, and Mr. Blythe – Josh’s dad – clapped his hands. “What’s for Lunch, eh Babs?” He asked.

“Sunday roast,” She grinned. “Wen’ all out for it, so be grateful it’s not sandwiches. Le’s go eat!”

"Present time!" Babs said, clapping her hands once after she'd received confirmation that they'd finished eating. "I'm gon' go grab somethin' while you two start - go on, go on!" She gestured, herding them into the living room before absconding up the staircase.

"Camera," Don said, knowingly, then flopped down onto the couch.

Presents from their friends had been coming in since the Christmas holidays started - Don's not entirely sure how Lauren knew to send Will's here, or how or why she'd convinced Sam and the others to do the same, but he hadn't paid much attention to that. Will had brought ones that Clemsie and Smudger and Kay and Hargreaves and Wootton had sent - after all, if it does anything, living through what happened at Slaughterhouse at least makes you a permanent entry on the Christmas shopping list - and Don's had arrived last week. The various Blythes' presents were also under the tree, a couple joint presents; Josh's family got Don and Will and Babs one present each, so that made three presents from the four Blythes, and David got Don and Babs - the Wallaces - some chocolate, but Terri gave Don and Will and Babs a present each - so four from the two Blythes.

Trying to figure out which bag of presents had been from which Blythe family had been somewhat futile. Thankfully, the individual presents were a bit more obvious.

(Both families were - bad at tagging, still, though.)

"Alright, which first?" Will said. Don sat up, stood up, and walked over. "Let's get the Blythes over and done with," He said, "Can' fuckin' figure out which is which for them, an' it's bugging me."

"Indeed," Will said, picking up one that had 'Will' on it in sharpie. Don picked up his, and dropped back onto the couch. He opened it, and a note fell out - Terri's, then; she always wrote little notes that she stuck inside the packaging, instead of on it.

Told him you like him yet, dickhead?

- T.

Don resisted the urge to facepalm and hid the message amongst the wrapping paper. "Who's your from?" He asked. Will was struggling with an overly sellotaped lump of a present. He found a place he could rip it from, though, and quickly did so. "Terri," He said, frowning slightly at a message written on paper with, of course, sharpie. It bled through, but Don didn't try to read it via the back of the paper. Will scoffed, lightly, and dropped the message, which disappeared into the wrapping paper. "Your friend has an interesting sense of humour," Will said.

"She's like tha'," Don said. "Always 'as been."

Don grinned at the copy of a Halo game he didn't yet have - a present that was as much for him as for her, likely since co-op was the only way she ever accepted anyone play Halo - and placed it down on the couch next to himself. "What'd she get you?" Don asked.

"A - puzzle box." Will frowned at it. He shook it, and there was something inside it, but how to get in there was - well, a puzzle. "... Interesting choice."

"She got me a cardboard box once," Don said. "And a coat hanger."

"Why?" Will blinked at him. "No' sure," Don shrugged. "She got 'er own boyfriend - b'fore they were t'gether, obviously - a keytar once. Tha' was mem'rable."

"... Alright, then." Will said, for lack of a better response. Don wasn't sure what you could say to that, anyway.

They made their way through the rest of the presents, and on the fifth Babs entered the room.

"Candid." She said, grinning, and Don sighed. "Mul'iple, actu'ly."

"Mum," Don sighed, and she laughed. "Come on, Don, grab Dad, would you? ;E's still in the dinin' room." Well. The kitchen/diner, since it was one room with a table crammed in the corner.

"Alright," Don said, standing. "Yeah, I'll get him."

Don left the room, and Babs sat down on the couch.

"See, I've known Don for a very long time, bein' 'is mum an' all," Babs said. She turned and smiled at Will, "An' I knew 'e liked tha' Clemsie girl from the momen' 'e saw 'er - an' ah can tel when he's grown t' like someone, too."

Will didn't reply.

"My boy's go' a big 'eart, and 'e cares abou' you," Babs said, plainly. "An' I'm no' gon' warn y' abou' no' 'urtin' 'im, b'cause ah kno' y're no' the type," She said. "So jus' let y'self be 'appy, Will. Y're a good kid; y' deserve it."

Babs stood and set up the camera as Don entered the room. "Will, be a dear and take the photo, wou'd y' please?" Babs asked. "Don, bring y' father over 'ere." A few flashes later, the photos were taken. "Ah've got' go take a few presents round to our Jackie's," She said, "So ah'll be back soon enough. You two carry on with the presents, don' wait for me." And with that, Babs was gone.

Don shook his head slightly, and moved to the tree. "Which next?" He asked.

"Ah - why not the Lawrences?" Will asked.

"Then the other 'slaugh'erians'" Don grinned. "Sure." Don tossed Will his present from Smudger - customary, generic; they hadn't really gotten to know each other, after all, Smudger and the rest of the group, since after the events of Slaughterhouse and everyone went home from that police station, well, the Lawrences moved country, so. Don put the riculously expensive chocolate - the same as what Will had gotten from the male Lawrence - aside, and then grabbed Clemsie's presents for them both. He handed Will his, then opened his own.

Don, a letter read, Merry Christmas! It's been such a long time - we should all really meet up in the new year. Kay will be back in England in the summer, and we'll be visiting family then, so I could pull some strings. It'd be nice, to see everyone again. Staying friends after everything that happened - well. It feels like a good idea to me.

I hope you and Will have had a good time at that new college - I keep getting letters from Wootton, bless him, about the place his mother sent him to this time. At least Hargreaves is keeping an eye on the poor boy; much like you, they were lucky enough to get sent to the same place. I'm pretty sure if they could, the Hargreaves would have adopted Wootton already, but - well. Given how often he's with his actual family, he might as well already be Isaac's little brother.

We really should all speak more. It's not like we have phones and skype or email or anything... certainly, we have a lot better than letters. I mean. Really.

See you both in the new year!

Signed,

Clemsie.

"Got a letter," Don said. "You?" "Yes," Will nodded. "Something about getting the gang back together, as it were."

"'S no' a bad idea," Don said. "Ah mean. We 'aven' spoken in around a year. Tha's a while."

"True," Will said.

"Guess we'll see if Smudger's therapist thinks it's a good idea," Don said, because though they didn't all keep in much contact, they did say the important things occasionally - usually on gift-giving days. Really, they did need to keep in better contact.

Ah well. That'll be a new years resolution, then.

Don turned to the present, which was a simple photo album. I heard you take photography, now, some paper masking-taped to the inside cover read. Here's a place to store it all. :)

Signed, Clemsie.

Signed, Smudger.

"Huh." Don shrugged and put down the album. "Alright."

Will put down his present from Clemsie and ostensibly from Smudger - obviously the presents were from Clemsie, but Smudger had signed the notes masking-taped onto both, if not the letters.

Don took the present from Kay Will handed over to him and opened it.

Clemency's gotten it into her head we're going to catch up in the summer. I'll see what I can do, since I will be back in dreary old England, but in the meantime - I heard you take maths.

You might want to train up your logic if that's the case, so I've given you a 'how to' book on chess, free of charge. I usually make people pay for this since I wrote it, but. We're friends, and it's Christmas, so.

Just try and fucking beat me next time we meet, I dare you, Wallace.

Signed,

Kay.

Don shook his head and held up the book in response to Will's identical copy. They grinned, slightly, at each other, then reached for the next presents. Hargreaves sent them both identical copies of dungeons and dragons, which he'd presumably sent everyone, and Wootton had sent them fudge. After that, it was Babs' presents - a scarf for Will and a camera for Don (who attempted not to think about how much that cost; most of the Christmas shopping budget, probably) - and then it was time for the presents they'd gotten each other.

"You first," Will said, handing over his present to Don. Don took it - internally thankful his present didn't go first, for a multitude of reasons - and opened it.

After the cardboard box and the wrapping paper had been put aside, Don looked at the watch - repackaged, likely, so Don couldn't see the price just from looking at its original box. It's the one he'd pointed out as the one he'd liked best, simple and sleek and fucking expensive, probably, and completely out of his range.

"Will-" Don started but - "Just take the present, Ducky," Will said.

Don tried to read his expression, for a moment, but gave up and nodded, slowly. "Well? Go on then, Willoughby, open yours," Don said, gesturing, as he finished removing the protective wrap from the watch and put it on.

Don waited as Will unwrapped the pocket watch, and waited as Will took a moment to look at it.

"I..." "Just take the present, Duck," Don said. Will smiled at him, and Don smiled back.

"There's an inscription," Don said, gesturing. "On th'back."

Will closed and turned over the pocket watch.

Bequeathed.

Don watched his face, quitely - Will's reaction was immediate. Many feelings were quickly telegraphed across his face, but Don only caught a few - wonder, surprise, but chief among all -

Panic.

Ah. Shit.

Will stood and walked out. Don hesitated, but this was much less life-threatening than the last time he'd hesitated to go after Will - so, he went. It didn't feel much less nerve-wracking, though, but Don didn't focus on that part.

Don had heard the front door close, and sure enough - when he opened it, Will was there, out on the cold, snow-covered pavement.

"Y'kno', if y'ate the gift, y' can jus' tell meh - y' don' 'ave to leave the 'ouse y' dramatic git," Don said. It was cold, and he was still in his pyjamas, and the posh twit currently stood outside his house was probably the most interesting thing to have happened to his little council estate street in years, but at that moment Don didn't rightly care much what Mrs. Johnson saw from between her half-closed curtains, or what Clara-Anne Jenkins could spy on from behind her blinds.

"It isn't that I hate it - It's more - I -" Will stopped, mid-sentence, frustrated enough to start pacing, back and forth, crunching a short path into the snow. "'S'more wha', Willoughby?"

Will didn't reply immediately, just let out a breath that clouded in the cold air.

"It doesn't matter, Ducky." Will said.

"'Course it fuckin' matters, or y' wouldn' 'ave left th'fuckin' 'ouse." Don pointed out, reasonably.

"Donald."

"Willoughby." Don walked over, mindless of the cold and the snow, and frowned at the other eighteen-year-old. "I don' wan't' renact a fuckin' soap-opera, jus' tell me wha' the fuck is wrong."

"Nothing's - wrong," Will said. "I just - I didn't... No-one's ever thought I or... anything about me was worth remembering. Especially not - something like that. Something that..."

"Important?" Don asked, quietly.

Will nodded.

"Well. I do." Don said. "Fuckin' 'ell, Duck, o'course I do."

Will stared down at him, for just a moment - and then, carefully, a move you could almost call furtive - leaned forward, and pressed his lips (cold, chapped - but soft, softer than he'd have thought) to Don's.

Somewhere far away, a door slammed shut, and Will moved back.

Before he could get the wrong idea, Don caught Will's hand with his own. "Y' kno', Will, I kno' yer cold-blooded an' that, but I'm fuckin' freezin' out 'ere."

Will laughed. He let himself be led back inside the house. Don dropped his hand and closed the door, then turned to look at Will again. Before he could say anything, of course, the door opened.

"Candid." Babs said, grinning. "Tha' was a beau'iful momen', really; one for the scrapbook."

Don sighed.

"First've all," Don said, "Mum, what the fuck, d'y' think y're doin'?"

Will grinned. "I, for one, think it's sweet. I should like our moments together to be captured."

"Ah, shut up, ya sentimental git." Don rolled his eyes. "Mum, 's weird, y' really don' need to."

"Actu'ly, Don, ah do," She said, frankly. "Mem'ries're precious thin's. Bes'to capture 'em so they're no' forgo'en."

"Alrigh', alrigh'-"

"Great!" Babs clapped her hands. "Now. Who wants lunch?"

#shr #slaughterhouse rulez #fanfic #wallacake #christmas fic #belated I kno I'm sorry #A 'Nonnie | anon asks #All The Asks | asks #i am truly sorry about how long this took #cowritten by edgycinnamoncocanut #<3

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delightfully-difficult-pirate · 6 years ago

Text

A Christmas Miracle (1/1)

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas! @branlovestowrite, this is your Secret Santa gift from me, you Captain Swan Secret Santa for 2018 @cssecretsanta2k18! It was a pleasure chatting with you and I hope that this tickles your fancy for pining and people getting stuck together. (Unbeta’d since I ran out of time)

Summary: After a long wedding, a blackout causes Maid of Honor Emma Swan to become stuck in an elevator with one of the groomsman, who she had unceremoniously rejected after a one-night-stand two years ago, despite her growing feelings for him.

Rating: PG-13 (for language)

AO3

A pair of black, strappy heals dangled from Emma’s tired fingers as she pressed the down button to summon the elevator. With eyes closed, she stretched her neck side-to-side and massaged the tense muscles.

A chuckle came from Emma’s right. “Tired, love?”

Emma cracked open one eye and glared as best she could at the chipper sounding British man. Despite it being nearly 1 am after a day full of wedding chaos, Killian Jones looked just as polished as he had at 3 pm that afternoon, standing next to David at the altar. Wear-as she had a barely concealed wine stain on her dress, her hair was falling out of its intricate up-do, and she knew the smoky-eye eyeshadow she had worn earlier now resembled a raccoon mask. She moved her hand from her neck and pressed lightly on her temple with only her middle finger.

This elicited another laugh from Jones. The sound sent a small shiver down Emma’s spine as she remembered the way his laugh had felt against her neck the one time they had slept together.

It had been two years ago, at the first Christmas party Mary Margaret and David had thrown at their new house in Cambridge. Killian had just moved to Boston from England six months before and was working as a private investigator. He’d met David, a BPD detective, after Killian’s investigation into an embezzling business partner had collided with David’s inquiry into tax fraud.

Killian was handsome, charismatic, and had more than a bit of bad boy charm. Emma had been instantly attracted to him and hadn’t protested his kiss when they’d gotten caught under the mistletoe later in the evening.

After that, one thing had led to another and Emma had woken up the next morning at Killian’s apartment, something Emma never did. What had been more surprising had been the fact that, curled up in Killian’s arms, she felt no need to run. After they managed to drag themselves from his bed, they had a great morning together; Killian made a proper English breakfast in his boxers while Emma drank coffee and enjoyed the show. Everything had been amazing, until his ex-girlfriend had shown up.

The elevator ding startled Emma. She must have jumped, because Killian shot her a concerned look as she carefully stepped through the opulent golden doors. He joined her a moment later.

“What floor?”

“Three.”

Killian pressed the buttons for both three and four, the other floor presumably where his own room was located.

She murmured her thanks as she leaned heavily against the wall. The elevator door closed and blocked out the sounds of the wedding reception that was winding down. The bride and groom had departed fifteen minutes ago, which had been the signal that Emma was finally free from her duties until the next morning.

Emma loved Mary Margaret, her best friends for nearly a decade, and she was thrilled that she had married such an amazing guy as David Nolan, but being her Maid of Honor had been far more exhausting than Emma had anticipated.

While she contemplated whether she had enough energy to take a bath with the aromatherapy bath bomb that been part of the gift Mary Margaret had given to her bridesmaids the elevator lurched to a rough stop. Emma’s eyes shot open just in time to see the lights flicker and go out. Only a small light above the door continued to glow.

Emma pulled her cellphone from her clutch and turned on the flashlight.

She looked at Killian. “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he pressed the call button located at the bottom of the panel.

“Help situation in elevator two,” an automated voice said. “Help needed.”

Static followed.

“Do you think it’s the storm?” Killian whispered.

Emma had forgotten about the raging storm that was traveling down from Canada to blanket New England in snow. Boston was due for over a foot, if Emma recalled correctly, but not for another day or so.

Before Emma could reply, a calm male voice issued from the speaker panel. “Elevator two, is everything alright?”

“Except for the fact that the elevator isn’t moving, yes, everything is perfect,” Emma replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Beside her, Killian grinned.

The person on the other end ignored her attitude, likely accustomed to people being upset when stuck in an elevator. “The area you’re in has lost power. Are there any passengers in distress?”

Emma looked over at Killian, who was still grinning, then replied with a simple “no”.

“The staff at the Omni Parker have been alerted to your situation. Remain calm until they are able to get to you.”

More static followed.

With a groan, Emma sank to the wood paneled floor of the elevator, her long golden dress pooling around her.

Killian joined her on the cold floor a moment later, situated directly across from her. He ran his hand through his hair, making it more ruffled than normal. “Seems like we’re going to be stuck for a bit, lass.”

Great. Just great.

Of all the people for her to be stuck in the elevator with, it just had to be Killian Jones.

When Killian’s ex, Milah, had arrived, Emma had beat a hasty retreat from the apartment. But she had been there long enough to see the battle of emotions that had played across Killian’s face when he looked at the gorgeous brunette. They may have been broken up, and he was deeply hurt by whatever had happened, but he still loved her.

Killian had called the next day and had apologized for what happened. Milah, he assured her, was out of the picture, and he wanted to take Emma out on a proper date.

Unsettled by everything that had happened, Emma did what she did best.

She pushed him away.

Told him that the other evening was a one-time thing. That she had no interest in getting to know him any further.

She’d regretted it immediately. And over the next few years, she’d wished so many times she could take it back. But she didn’t know how, so she just avoided Killian as best she could.

The one man she wished she could spend more time with, yet at the same moment, wanted to be as far from as possible.

And now she was stuck in an elevator with him for who knew how long.

Emma’s phone buzzed in her hand. She only had 15% battery.

“Perfect,” she muttered. “Just perfect.”

“You alright there, Swan?”

Emma held up her phone so he could see the power level.

He frowned. “I sent a text to Graham and Ruby, letting them know of our predicament. They are going to try and keep us updated as best they can on the power situation. But I only have around 20% battery myself.”

“Why don’t I turn my phone off for now, so that when yours starts to die we can still use mine?” She suggested.

At Killian’s nod, Emma shut her phone off. But even after the screen went dark, she continued to stare at it.

Eventually, Emma looked up and forced a smile. “Guess we won’t be playing Angry Birds to pass the time,” she said sardonically.

This time, Killian didn’t laugh. Instead, his brows lowered and he studied her with serious eyes.

“Are you claustrophobic?”

Emma blinked in shock. “No, I’m not. Are you?”

“No. But you’re acting rather odd, Swan. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Her “I’m fine” was automatic.

Killian raised one eyebrow, obviously not believing her.

Emma sighed. “I’m just tired.”

Killian nodded but he didn’t look convinced. Thankfully, he didn’t inquire further.

Deciding to get as comfortable as possible, Emma shifted so that the layers of her dress separated her bottom from the cold floor. After, she started pulling out as many of the bobby pins in her hair as she could find.

After pulling out over two dozen, Emma muttered, “How many of these fucking things are there?”

A snort, hastily covered by a cough, came from the man in front of her. Emma shot her best glare at Killian in return as she worked at a particularly stubborn pin.

“Can I be of assistance?”

Emma’s hand froze as she remembered how amazing his hands in her hair felt.

The morning after their night together, Killian had spent nearly an hour combing through her hair with his fingers. He had carefully worked through the tangles caused by their passionate coupling and massaged her scalp. It had almost been enough to lure Emma back to sleep, but her stomach had demanded attention before she could doze off again.

Killian’s face fell as she hesitated.

Emma felt horrible; like she had just kicked a puppy.

Killian had been a godsend the past year. He’d stepped up and helped with any and all wedding planning duties passed to him when David’s Best Man, Graham, traveled back to Ireland due to a visa issue and been gone for six months. Emma and Killian had spent hours traveling around the Boston area visiting florists, bakeries, and caterers with Mary Margaret and David. Despite how standoffish she had been toward him, Killian was kind and cheerful, never once pushing her to talk about what had happened between them.

And here she was, being a bitch in return.

“Killian,” she said softly. “I would appreciate your help.”

The butterflies in her stomach returned at his boyish grin.

Killian scooted across the floor and, with a gentle hand, urged Emma to turn toward the front of the elevator with her back to him. He immediately went to work, handing her the pins as he removed them. A few were quite stuck, probably glued in place by all the product the hairstylist had used on her hair, and Killian whispered apologies each time he had to pull with any force.

After the pin that was jabbing at her scalp was removed, Emma couldn’t keep from moaning. That basted thing had aggravated her all evening. Killian’s hand in her hair paused for a moment at the sound, but quickly went back to work. His fingers slid across her scalp and carefully undid the hairstyle that had taken the stylist over an hour to do.

Emma was quite relaxed by the time Killian announced that he had removed all the pins he could find. When she turned her head to thank him, she found that he was much closer than anticipated, his face hovering just over her left shoulder.

The words stuck in her throat as her gaze traveled up his handsome face. His beard was a little thicker than normal. Grown-out, she knew, to look more professional. The extra length made its reddish color more prominent. His lips were a little chapped and she watched as he licked them with his tongue. His wicked, talented tongue.

Emma felt a blush travel up her face as her eyes reached Killian’s at the memory of the pleasure his tongue brought her just before Christmas a few years ago. She hoped that he didn’t notice.

His furrowed brow told her that she had no such luck. “Are you alright? You feel warm.”

Touched by his concern, and overwhelmed by the emotions it elicited in her, Emma collapsed backward against Killian’s chest, her head resting on his shoulder. His hand immediately shot to her forehead, presumably to check whether she was running a temperature. She gently pulled it away and held it, resting on her lap.

“I’m sorry, Killian. For what happened the other year.” She stared at the dark wood wall of the elevator as she spoke. “I didn’t know how to handle how comfortable I felt with you and I panicked.”

Silence followed her admission.

As it drew on, Emma moved to lift herself off of Killian when suddenly the arm of the hand she was holding drew her back.

“Emma, please open your eyes.”

She didn’t even know she had closed them.

When she opened them again, Killian’s face was just inches from hers.

He was smiling.

She smiled back.

Slowly, his face came closer. His beard tickled when he pressed a soft kiss against her lips.

“Does this mean,” he said when he pulled away, “that I can finally take you out to dinner?”

“I would love that.”

They kissed again, slowly, softly, until Emma’s body reminded her that she had been up for nearly 20 long, stressful hours. Killian insisted she remain propped against him and she dozed off with her head tucked against his neck.

Emma startled awake and grasped tightly to Killian when a grinding noise came from the elevator doors. She blinked rapidly when the doors opened and the beam of a flashlight passed over her face.

“Well, look at that,” an amused Irish-accented voice said, “it’s a bloody Christmas miracle.”

“Very funny Graham,” Killian said dryly as he helped her to her feet. The elevator had stopped just before it finished passing the 10th floor and Graham had to crouch down to talk to them. The gap couldn’t have been more than two feet tall.

“Killian, give Emma a boost up and we’ll get the two of you out.”

After passing her shoes and clutch through the gap to Graham, Killian took off his suit jacket and slipped it over her arms.

“Just in case,” he whispered in her ear as he buttoned it closed.

With Graham holding her arms and Killian’s firm grip on her hips, Emma was able to climb through the gap without a problem. Ruby appeared and helped Emma to her feet, carefully inspecting her for any injuries.

Ruby pulled Emma into a tight hug. “We were so worried! I knew you were heading back to your room when the power went out and I was terrified you were stuck alone until I got Killian’s text!” she exclaimed.

Emma assured her friend that she was okay as she watched Graham help Killian out of the elevator. In the dim emergency lighting, she could see a streak of grease or dirt had smeared along the front of his dress shirt. Once Ruby had moved to wrap Killian in her death grip hug, Emma looked down at herself and saw that Killian’s jacket had protected her dress from getting dirty during her climb out.

Thank you, she mouthed at him. She received a wink in return.

They all thanked the maintenance man who had engineered their release before he headed off to help extract another group of people stuck between the fourth and fifth floor.

Emma looked at Graham. “What caused the power to go out?”

Her friend shrugged. “Not sure. They think some of the city’s preparations for the storm may have disturbed some wiring.”

“Can we still get in our rooms?”

It was Ruby who answered. “The door locks run on batteries, so you shouldn’t have any trouble. But you’ll need to get a few flashlights from front desk. And some extra blankets.”

With Ruby and Graham in the lead, they started toward the closest stairwell. Killian’s arm wrapped around Emma’s waist and he pulled her close to whisper in her ear.

“Would you object to sharing a room tonight, Swan? Keep each other warm?”

Emma giggle caused Ruby and Graham to turn around just in time to see Emma wrap her arms around Killian’s neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss.

Graham shook his head while Ruby grinned.

“You were right, it is a Christmas miracle.”

I hope you enjoyed this little gift!

#captain swan secret santa 2018 #CSSS2018 #Captain Swan #Lee writes #Captain Swan AU #OUaT #CS ff #CS fanfiction

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