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climbthemountain2020 · 11 days ago

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What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? - Ch. 4

Ch. 4/5 | Ao3

Elucien Holiday Fic for the @acotargiftexchange

ANOTHA ONE @itsybitsybluesy :)

Elain’s POV

The first thing Elain noticed when she woke up was the light filtering softly through the curtains. She turned to face the window in her sleep, and between the two panels of fabric, she could see the snowy trees outside glinting in the bright sun.

The second thing Elain noticed was a heavy weight across her hip and lower leg. It was warm all the way up her back, surrounding her so that, even though the fire had gone out, she didn’t feel a bit of the cold.

Lucien.

They’d stayed up late into the night talking in front of the fire, taking periodic breaks to kiss. When Elain’s lids had grown too heavy to keep her eyes open, Lucien had offered to make true on his threat of carrying her up the stairs, despite her protests. About halfway up the stairs, she’d given up, leaning her head into his chest and enjoying the moment. She could practically feel him preening beneath her cheek, but she found it didn’t bother her at all.

When they’d reached her room, he’d set her quietly down on the bed, bolstering her fire effortlessly. The words had come out of her mouth unbidden.

“Will you stay?” And Lucien hadn’t missed a beat, simply removing his shirt and slipping beneath the covers next to her. They hadn’t been intimate again, his body simply shuffling against hers until they were pressed together stem to stern, one arm beneath her head and the other across her waist. As she immediately began to drift into sleep, Elain remembered feeling like this was right , as though some missing piece had clicked. Was there really something to all this mate business? Or was she simply falling for someone who had given her the time she needed, and never stopped treating her for a second like she was worth the wait?

She felt him stir behind her, a small inhale telling her that he was awake and perhaps also remembering how he got here.

“Good morning, Elain.” And Cauldron, his voice was rough with sleep as the words slid over her ear. The goosebumps covered her arms and she shifted lower beneath the covers, tugging the blanket up under her chin and smiling.

“Morning, Lucien.” He shifted again behind her, and it was impossible to not feel the raging erection at her back.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did. And you?” She was fighting the urge to kick her feet and giggle like a schoolgirl as she felt his thumb brush back and forth across her hip.

“Better than I have in as long as I can remember.”

It grew quiet then between them, their bodies stilled in the beams of sunlight streaming in. The air between them seemed less frantic than it had the day before, less charged with the denial and the need of the bond. She didn’t mind it. Something about this– about waking up with him pressed against her– felt so exquisitely domestic, so achingly right .

The thought occurred to her that this was something she wouldn’t mind doing every day.

Their trip in the woods yesterday had changed everything; the time for pushing him away was over. With a clarity that felt foreign to her, Elain knew for sure that she was ready to pursue this with her whole heart. Whether that simply meant some strange compromise of fae and human courting, or continued frolics in the woods, or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure. But she was ready to see where it might go. She was ready to see what they could be.

“I wish we could stay here all day, but unfortunately, I think we have some duties to attend to. I told Vassa I would help prepare the dinner for tonight, and I’ve seen what she can do when she’s angry. I don’t want to be on the receiving end.”

Lucien buried his nose in Elain’s back as she spoke, pulling a soft sigh from her as he ran it down the column of her spine.

“Are you absolutely certain?” His voice was low, a husky teasing that left Elain’s lungs doing extra work to breathe evenly.

“Tragically, yes. But do you have any plans for Christmas Eve?”

She loved the way he chuckled softly at her question, loved this new hope she could hear in even the smallest whispers of his voice. She knew he felt it too, the change between them. More importantly, she knew without asking that he welcomed it just as much if not more than she did.

“Alright, love. Let’s put some clothes on and do our civic duty.” With a kiss pressed to her bare shoulder, Lucien rolled from the bed. Elain immediately missed the contact, her skin thrumming with the bonds echoing pleas for him to return. Her chest felt like it was reaching out in his absence, pulling at him in the void to return him to her side as soon as possible.

Once dressed, Lucien and Elain tiptoed down the stairs, the house absolutely silent despite the late hour. It had to be well past lunch at this point. Lucien tossed a flame into the fireplace to warm up the space.

“Where are Vassa and Juria–AHHH!” Elain screamed and shot behind Lucien as a head popped out from the other side of the pink couch. “Gods, you scared me! What are you doing down here?” Jurian’s hair was sticking out at all angles, his eyes bleary with sleep, and a woolen, thick-knit blanket around his shoulders.

“We thought we’d get a snack, but the kitchen was so far away.”

“We?” In response to Elain, Vassa’s hand shot up next to Jurian, waving lazily and then falling back down.

“Why do you both look so rough?”

“We kept drinking.”

“Clearly.”

As Lucien and Elain rounded the couch, they could see a massive pile of blankets where Vassa’s body presumably was. In the harsh light of day, the decor from the night before looked haphazard and abhorrent, and she stifled a laugh at the scenery.

Vassa groaned from beneath the lump of quilts. “Unhhhh, have to start cooking,” followed by something that sounded like a dry heave.

“Lucien and I are already up, we’ll start it. Go sleep it off.”

Vassa’s sleepy head poked up from the blankets. “Really?” Elain wasn’t certain that the two of them weren’t still drunk, actually, as Jurian’s head swayed back and forth against the armrest like it was on a swivel.

“I am very sure. It’s going to take all afternoon– go rest up.” She pretended to scrunch her nose. “And maybe also shower.”

Vassa blew out a harsh breath that may have been an attempt at a scoff before she rose in a pile of fabric from the couch. Jurian followed, shuffling absently behind her as they ambled up the stairs like the undead.

“Glad we stopped when we did,” Elain mumbled as Lucien came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and bending to rest his chin on her shoulder. It struck Elain as funny how natural the movement felt, how easily she melted into it as though she’d been doing it every day forever.

They remained for a moment as the room warmed, the midday sun streaming through the high windows of the front room and painting the walls in gold.

“Shall we cook our first Christmas Eve feast, then, my lady?” Elain felt the smile across her face.

“I suppose we shall.”

Lucien’s POV

Lucien busied himself making the strongest tea they had while Elain heated the large oven in the kitchen. Once they had the roast in and going, he could make them a hearty breakfast and they could begin their preparations. Luckily, Elain and Vassa had purchased the roast when they’d been in the village two nights before, and it was already prepped and chilled and ready to be put into the oven to cook for the day.

His eyes tracked her lips as Elain sipped the mug of tea he’d handed her, a splash of milk and a heaping dollop of sugar stirred in, just as he knew she liked.

“You know how I take my tea.”

“I wanted to be ready, in case you ever decided you were.” He tried to convey with his eyes all the things he wasn’t saying.

Even if it had been 200 years from now, even if it had been never, I was going to learn how you took your tea so I would be ready for you.

Her responding smile took his breath away. Elain was always beautiful, but here in this early morning light, she was radiant. She belonged in the streaming sun, the rays catching in her tousled hair, her eyes crinkling in the corners when she grinned at him. He wanted to wake up to this forever.

He gestured for Elain to take a seat at the table with her tea, firing up the stove top and pulling ingredients from the ice box he’d long ago enchanted to remain cold within the house. Vassa and Jurian had raved about it for months, and he’d never thought he’d feel so self-important over an ice box.

He brought out a slab of bacon, and took some eggs from the countertop, and began to cook.

“You really don’t mind cooking with me all day?”

Lucien genuinely couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing, the thought of spending another day with Elain unimpeded sounding like a dream he was about to wake up from and cry over.

“I really don’t.” He looked over his shoulder at her as he stirred the eggs. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes, to be honest. Human men don’t–”

“Ah, but I am no human man.” She laughed, covering her mouth as he puffed his chest dramatically. He would make himself into Prythian’s Great Fool if only he could hear that laugh again. “Why do they not help?”

“It’s a woman’s job. Or the staff’s.” Lucien tried to push down the simmering rage. He hated the way the humans did things, hated thinking about the way Elain was brought up. He supposed, in some courts, it wasn’t much better. But he had never been one to follow those rules. He’d seen the way Beron had treated his mother, treated the people who worked in the Forest House, and had decided from a young age that it would never be him.

“I would never expect you to do all that, you know. Not unless you were cooking for pleasure. Even then, I would split everything with you.” He flipped the bacon a bit more enthusiastically than he intended, and was glad he’d put on an apron. “You deserve to have a say. You deserve to have a voice.”

He finished, exhaling deeply. He’d gone a little off the deep end, and now he worried he’d overstepped. The silence behind him was making him so nervous he was afraid to turn. He forced himself to look, stilling his heart as much as he could to keep up the show of nonchalance as he twisted his head over his shoulder to look back at her.

Elain was still sitting at the table, tea raised halfway to her mouth and paused midair. Her eyes were wide, and Lucien could swear they were lined in silver. Behind her, the window panes of the dining nook illuminated her with light from behind, making her look otherworldly. She was truly the most beautiful person he’d ever beheld.

“Is everything okay?”

Have I scared you? Have I said too much? Please don’t turn away now that I’ve shown you my heart.

He should have stopped while he was ahead. Perhaps she only wanted something casual. Lucien’s mind spun with everything he was about to lose before he’d even gotten it. No one had ever robbed him so fully of his self control before, no one had ever put him so absolutely out of his mind that he couldn’t mind simple words–

“More than okay.” The words were quiet, spoken through lips and they blossomed into a tentative smile like the first blooms of spring. She blinked twice, as though shaking herself off, then set her tea back on the table. The popping of the bacon in front of him drew him back into the presence as he turned to draw it out of the pan and lay in on a cooling rack. He gave the eggs a final stir and plated them on a platter, turning the stove top off and moving the pans. He organized their plates and brought them to the table, Elain watching him all the while with an unreadable expression, the domesticity of it all taking his breath away as though he’d run a marathon and not just made the most basic of breakfasts.

“This looks lovely, Lucien. Thank you.” He preened at the praise, despite it being nothing but eggs and bacon, and thanked the cauldron he hadn’t managed to burn anything.

“It’s nothing,” he responded, but the smile threatened anyway. He could get used to this–he could. “You’ll have to serve yourself though. I’m sorry– not to be rude.” He was fumbling again. He didn’t want her to accidentally accept a mating bond she wasn’t ready for.

“Wh–? Oh. Oh! Oh, of course.” She’d forgotten, too. Her cheeks warming pink as she realized. “That’s no problem at all. Thank you for the reminder.” She took the plate and served herself, digging in and smiling enthusiastically. “This is delicious. You’re a wonderful cook.”

Lucien couldn’t help the smile. He would do this every day if she wanted it.

As they finished, Elain drew a notebook and pen from the drawer of the far countertop, tapping it against her lips as she thought. Lucien washed the dishes in the sink and came to accompany her, looking over her shoulder as she jotted down notes and numbers.

“What are you writing?” He didn’t miss how she leaned back into him to explain.

“All the side dishes for today. The oven is large enough for multiple items, but everything cooks at different temperatures and for different times. So I’m writing out what each needs and coming up with an order that’s sensible for cooking them.”

Lucien was in awe. He had never even considered what might go into the making of a dinner this size, how many moving parts there might be. “And you do this often?” She cocked her neck back to stare up at him, and immediately he was under the spell of her plump pink lips as she spoke.

“Well, yes. Nuala and Cerridwen taught me when I told them I wanted to learn. In bigger kitchens like this with adequate supplies, there is much more flexibility, at least.” She hesitated, her eyes going distant as though she were debating something. He wished she wouldn’t hesitate around him, wished often that he could hear her thoughts the way Feyre and Rhysand so often communicated. “Would you like to learn?”

She was grinning before he even responded, telling him he’d let his face react before his response. “I would love to. I’ll leave the apron on,” he teased.

He was perpetually in awe of her, of all she could do and all she’d accomplished. He couldn’t fathom that no one else saw her this way– an accomplished female who was quick as a whip, sharp and witty and talented, beautiful and kind.

“So, your magic is a bit stronger than you let on.” He hadn’t said anything about it after their tryst in the woods the previous day. She didn’t look up from the recipes she was sorting, but he did notice the side of her mouth quirk into a smile.

“I am frequently very, very bored.”

His little mischief maker . The thought came to him unsolicited, but he liked it. His .

Elain showed him how she was planning and timing the different pieces to their dinner, going over the planned dishes and desserts, and numbering which order they’d prepare them. Lucien was entranced by her. In front of her family, she always seemed so shy, so demure, but here, Elain was in charge. She spoke confidently, excitedly. Lucien wished she would talk to him about everything this way, her hands animatedly detailing each step without her even seeming aware of it. More than a few times, his attention strayed from her directions and to the smell of her, the scent now deliciously mixed with tones of his own.

Focus, Lucien. Focus.

Through sheer power of will, he did. Letting her direct him to the first item he’d be working on and handing him the recipe sheet.

“If you’ll just prep the materials, I will help get it all together. This one is a casserole, so it’s got a lot of margin for…practice.”

He feigned indignance, a hand across his heart. “Are you insinuating I am incapable, Elain?”

Her laughter sounded like bells, like joy, like ribbons around his heart. “You are fully capable of following written directions when you want to, I am almost certainly sure.” This teasing side of her was doing things to him, and he shifted his weight as she came to stand on the other side of him to mix pie ingredients.

They worked well side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders, but neither of them making any moves to step further apart. Lucien felt like he was doing a pretty good job of things, even when he had to go back and read the instructions a few times. True to her word, she helped him out after she’d mixed and poured her pie, setting it gracefully into the oven to cook. He watched her every graceful move as she did, somehow making the assembly of a casserole dish into something wholly artful.

As they moved on to the next set of dishes, they perched at the table for peeling potatoes, new tea cups in hand, the steam swirling up out of them in the beams of sun as they lowered and moved across the sky.

“So, Lucien, what’s your favorite color?”

“Green.” He didn’t hesitate. He’d always loved green, his whole room in shades of it growing up. It offset the ever-present colors of Autumn, the reds and oranges and yellows of his house and home court overwhelming at times. But green had always reminded him of the tall pines in the forest that never changed, even as the rest did. “What about you?”

“Light blue. Like the sky.” He wasn’t sure why, but it hadn’t been what he’d been expecting.

“That’s a lovely color.”

“It reminds me of spending days outdoors when I was very young. I don’t remember much from then, but I used to tear through the woods with Nesta to catch Feyre running wild around the countryside. Even as a toddler she was practically feral.” Lucien laughed at the image, finding not much had truly changed, despite the title of High Lady. Elain chuckled too, lost in the memory. “We often found her on this grassy hill. I could never find it again if I’d tried. But it was buffeted by this long, flowing stream. The water was cold as ice no matter the time of year, but she still always wanted to swim. Nesta would allow it until Feyre’s little lips turned blue. She’d always bring a book to read, but I would lay on my back and watch the clouds. We were afforded so little time to just be children– our nursemaids and teachers would call it silly, the day dreaming– but I loved watching the sky.”

Lucien was speechless. After so many years of silence, the privilege of listening to Elain speak so freely felt like a true gift.

She drew back a bit in his silence. “Sorry, I ramble sometimes.” She’d taken his silence for annoyance.

“No. No, Elain.” He grabbed at her hand across the table, twisting her fingers still damp from the potatoes in his. “I was just thinking about how beautiful it sounded– how lucky I am to be able to sit here and talk about these things with you.”

She lit back up immediately, and despite being filled with relief, he was also filled again with that burning rage and urge to put his hands on whoever had made her feel that she couldn’t speak openly about her interests.

He decided to keep the game going as they tossed the peels aside and began to cut. “What’s your favorite season?”

“Spring, but I think I am starting to like the holidays enough that it may change. Yours?”

“Tragically, autumn. I hate to be predictable.” Her laughter echoed in the small nook.

“Yes, well, I prefer the term dependable, but I see your complaints.”

“I’d love to say Winter, but I would hate to give Kallias the satisfaction.”

“Oh, yes, we mustn't have that.” Her tone was mocking, and he was eating up every second of it. “What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“Can I say my answer has changed since yesterday?”

“ Lucien.” He dodged a bit of potato she flung at him, eyes wide with amusement. “Okay! Alright. Desserts. I have a sweet tooth.” They were still laughing when the small timer rang. He continued to cut the remaining potatoes as Elain went to baste the roast, rotating the pie and removing the casserole dish from the oven to place it in the warming drawer. She moved elegantly across the kitchen, grabbing a pot and adding salt and water, setting it to a boil. Lucien wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone make cooking look so effortless. When she turned back around, he was caught staring at her. Her eyes glittered as he cleared his throat.

“Are those potatoes ready to go?”

He handed the bowl of chopped potatoes over for her to dump into the pot while he cleaned the table up. The final two items on her list had been rolls and a gravy, one of which couldn’t be made until the roast was nearing done. He pulled the dough from the ice box, took the cloth from the top of it and set it out on the counter top.

“You never told me your favorite food,” he called back to her.

“Oh, anything. I said I would never be picky again, and I meant it. All the food in Prythian is so delicious, besides. I would be hard pressed to turn anything down.” She turned out the dough, having gently floured the counter below it, and began to knead.

“If you had to pick, though. What could you eat every day?”

She paused, as though thinking hard about every food she’d ever eaten. “Hmm, perhaps something I haven’t tasted yet.” She shot Lucien a look that could have burned through iron, capping it with a coy smile that sent every breath from his chest.

My gods, where had this Elain been?

She gave him no time to rebound as her hands worked the dough, her eyes thankfully trained on that instead of on him and the furious blush he felt spreading up his cheeks. When was the last time anything had made him blush? He shifted again.

“What has been your favorite part of this week?” Elain asked over her shoulder. Lucien liked this question, even though it was near impossible to choose an answer. Not impossible– his answer was easily all of it , though he was sure that wasn’t what she wanted. He let himself think of it all from start to finish, reveling in how absolutely lovely each bit had been. He wondered if she’d already assumed his favorite would be their time in the woods.

“Before we winnowed here.” It clearly hadn’t been the answer she’d expected, and her head whipped to look at him as she stopped what she was doing. Her eyes were puzzled, as though trying to figure him out. “You took my hand. Without hesitation. I held it out, and you took it.” He saw the moment the confession bled through her, the understanding of what he was saying softening her eyes.

“I liked waking up with you, Lucien.” His heart was beating as quickly as hers, the two pounding in tandem like the drums of Calanmai, the magic of the earth beneath them surging to push them together. He was to kiss her again, lean down and close that small gap between them. Her eyes landed on his lips, and he didn’t waste a moment longer. The kiss was short and sweet, but it carried a delicious weight to it that hadn’t been there before. It meant something, the two of them here together, preparing a meal and touching so intimately, so openly. When Lucien pulled away, Elain looked at him, slightly dazed.

They managed to keep going somehow, Elain separating and cutting the dough into small rounds and Lucien putting them on pans to rise beneath another cloth. They were nearing the end, and Elain drained the potatoes to begin to add the ingredients to cream them. Her heartbeat picked up– he’d felt it– though she didn’t turn around, just kept stirring the potatoes. It was his turn to ask a question, but he felt like she had something to say, so he focused on cleaning the countertop. If she lost her nerve, he had another question ready to go.

She took a deep breath, then minutely shook her head as though deciding against it. Lucien fought the amusement off his face, trying to keep it neutral and not scare her off.

“Do you want children?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

“Yes.” And he did. He’d always imagined, somewhere in the far, far future, where he might have a family of his own. He would do things differently, raise them in the way that children should be raised and loved. He’d cherish them, and their mother in front of them. Of course he’d wanted children; he couldn’t think of much he wanted more, especially if Elain was concerned. This was important to her, and he knew his response held weight for her. He wasn’t sure if it was the answer she’d wanted, but he couldn’t lie to her about this.

He was ready to ask the same back, but she was already turning again, breathless with nerves. “How many?”

He pictured how their children might look– wild red curls, soft brown eyes that crinkled when they smiled, laughs that sounded like the ringing of church bells announcing something joyous.

“A whole gaggle of them,” he answered with what he hoped was a genuine smile. He tried not to hold his breath, tried to read her face as she took him in. As the smile began on her face, Lucien could swear he saw heaven.

“Well, you'll need an awful strong partner to tend that brood.”

“I hear partnerships are the best way to have well-adjusted broods of children.”

Elain was still grinning as he spoke, her heart racing still, but now with something that felt a lot to Lucien like a mirroring of his own anticipation.

“And you, Elain? Do you see children in your future?”

“With the right person? Gods, I hope so.”

Elain POV

Elain hadn’t expected to come back to the Human Lands and begin to fall in love with her mate. It had just happened that way.

Perhaps, it was because it had been happening in small doses over the last year. Each time she’d prod and play with him, she’d see a bit more of that distance fall away, a bit more of the wall she’d built between the crumble. She hadn’t quite been ready to admit it to herself, but this had been the push she needed.

Now, they were here in his kitchen, discussing children.

Elain could see his eyes as he experienced a multitude of emotions. Hope, desire, hunger, elation. She had kept those from him for too long, and to see them there now left her feeling everything all at once in response.

She used to not buy all the ideas behind a mate, despite her sisters’ happy endings. But she could see now there was something to it. More than something. The way the two of them had worked together, not just today, but this whole week, was something extraordinary. Never in her life had Elain felt like someone understood her this way– like he knew what she meant, what she needed, sometimes even before she did.

She stirred the potatoes again while he hovered at her side. Rather than being irritated with his presence, she loved the closeness of him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, the urge overwhelming at times. She shook her head a little as she raised the spoon to her mouth to taste. There would be time for that later.

The potatoes were almost ready, but there was something missing. If she could figure that out, she’d only have the gravy left. She stirred again, lifting the spoon and holding it up to Lucien as his hands found her waist.

“Will you tell me what this needs?” He leaned down, mouth opening, then stopped and pulled back at the last second as though he’d been struck.

“I–I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Was he picking this, of all times, to be wary of her cooking?

“I just…you cooked it. You prepared it. And you’re handing it to me. So, I can’t,” he finished lamely, looking incredibly disappointed.

He couldn’t? Because she’d prepared–

Oh.

The two had just unwittingly come dangerously close to accepting the mating bond that had been hanging loosely between them for the past five years for the second time in one afternoon. It hadn’t even been two hours since the last time. Why was she finding this so difficult to grasp? She snapped the spoon back down into the pot so hard it clanged and echoed in the space, and Lucien leaned down to rest his forehead on her shoulder.

“I am so sorry. I’d already forgotten again. It would be fine if you didn’t offer it to me,” Lucien muttered.

Her first response to his sullen words was to giggle, the knee-jerk reaction bubbling up from within before she could control it. Shouldn’t she be horrified at what they’d almost done twice?

This was new– hardly even that. It had been a matter of days.

But it hadn’t really been only days. Not truly.

She patted his hands with hers, both still settled on her waist.

Would it really be so awful, though? If they had?

“What’s your favorite thing to cook, Lucien?” She opted to change the subject instead.

His laughter sounded so low and lovely in her ear. “Gods, I’m a horrid cook.”

She spun in his arms. “What? You made breakfast, though. You’ve been helping me all day.”

“Bacon and eggs is just about the only thing I know how to cook.” He grinned down at her again. “Perhaps I just need a very smart, pretty teacher so I can help more often.”

“You’re impossible,” she spoke quietly, but let her hands roam over his chest.

“What about yours?”

“Desserts,” she said it with a cheeky smile, remembering his earlier answer.

“What a lovely match we make then.” Hearing it made her heart swell, a movement so profound she could swear she felt her chest expanding.

“That we do. Maybe, once we return to Velaris, I could cook those tarts for you again.”

The way she’d phrased the words was intentional, clearly not lost on him for the way his lips parted. There was a question in his eyes, and earnest hope in the furrow of his brow. She’d waited so long, put him off for so long. But now, she couldn’t think of a single reason to wait any longer.

Jurian and Vassa picked exactly that moment to maneuver through the kitchen doors, looking remarkably more lifelike than they had

“That certainly smells better than anything Lucien has ever made,” Jurian said, stretching in the doorway.

“Hey! I helped!”

“Remember the time he tried to make us those pancakes?” Vassa chuckled as she rubbed her eyes, walking towards the table.

“I’ll put on some more tea,” Elain said knowingly, turning the kettle to a boil.

“Yes, please.”

“Elain, can we please hope to see you here more often?”

Lucien’s eyes met hers, the same question echoing there.

“I certainly hope so,” she responded, and she meant it.

“It’s been so nice having you here for the holidays.” Vassa chimed back in.

“And Lucien is never this pleasant– ow! ”

Elain loved being here. She had felt more at home here the past few days than she ever had in Velaris–perhaps more at ease, more free, than she ever had in her life. She pulled the roast out to rest, taking what she needed to finish the gravy as Lucien slid into the table with his friends, the sounds of them chatting merrily behind her like music to her ears.

+++

Dinner had been a massive success, the food all finishing with time leftover and with plenty to spare. They ate early as the sun sank below the trees outside, the fire and candles and lights inside catching the abhorrently decorated colors of their Christmas tree and casting them around the room. Jurian and Lucien brought the plates in and put them in the sink, packing up anything left to cool on the counter or in the ice box.

“Anyone for hot chocolate?” Jurian asked.

“What? No more nog for you?” Lucien ribbed. Jurian and Vassa both looked edged in green as they shook their heads.

“Hot chocolate it is,” he laughed as the kitchen doors swung shut behind them.

“We need to fix that,” Elain mused, pointing towards the travesty of their decorating from the night before.

“It’s not excellent,” mused Vassa, hand on her chin. “We had other things going on.” She smiled wickedly at Elain. “Speaking of, are you planning to tell me what happened on your tree scouting adventure?”

Despite herself, Elain flushed multiple shades of red, averting her eyes as she smiled. “I fear that’s between us and the forest.”

Vassa cackled in response, pulling the tangled popcorn strands off the fresh conifer. “Well, let’s hope the trees have a trustworthy friend to discuss their trauma with.” Elain couldn’t help but smile as she moved to the table to turn the symphonia back on. The music it played was beautiful, each song singing of Christmas joy and family and love. She remembered some distantly from her childhood, and some she was sure she’d never heard at all, but perhaps for next Solstice, she might ask for one of her own.

Once Lucien and Jurian had emerged with the hot chocolate, Elain and Vassa had mostly deconstructed the disaster from the night before. They’d already begun reassembling and fixing the general appearance of it. Lucien and Elain danced around each other, their bodies and fingertips brushing at every available opportunity as though they were tied together. Elain wondered if things would always feel this way, that beautiful and magnetic rush of the beginning of a romance. She had felt that sparkle once with Graysen, but it didn’t hold a candle to this. If it had been a spark back then, it was a roaring flame with Lucien– the awe-inspiring blaze of her old life going up in flames, the match held in her own hand.

She wanted to touch him, always be near him, some strange need to possess him tearing at her from the inside. She wasn’t sure if this was the bond, or if it was simply the way that Lucien made her feel. She found she didn’t really care as her eyes tracked him across the room, tracing his outline and marking every inch of him as hers as they finished the careful reconstruction of their decor.

Once they’d finished and the tree looked half normal, decorations glowing prettily in the low light, Vassa broke the silence with a loud yawn.

“Early to bed for us tonight.” She leaned in, hugging both Elain and Lucien. “I know I’ve said it a few times, but it’s been lovely to have you here. I hope you’ll come back soon, and that you’ll stay as long as you’d like.” Elain nodded in response. She hadn’t had the opportunity for many true friends in her life, and the rushing warmth inside her chest made her wonder why she hadn’t made more of an effort sooner.

Jurian laced his fingers through Vassa’s as they wished them Merry Christmas and moseyed up the stairs, leaving Elain and Lucien alone in front of the fire once again. It had hardly been a moment since the door upstairs closed before they heard Vassa shriek and the slight movement of furniture against the floor. Elain looked at Lucien, but he was just shaking his head in response.

“Saint Nicholas is bringing them coal,” Lucien said matter-of-factly, catching Elain by surprise and making her laugh so hard that her cup tipped, spilling the now-lukewarm liquid down her arm and onto Lucien’s shirt.

“Oh, gods. I’m so sorry, Lucien. Let me get something–”

“No, it’s fine, really.” Lucien reached back, pulling his tunic over his head one handed. Standing here in front of Lucien, the glowing lights of the tree reflected across his stomach, Elain felt like she could just float away in a strong breeze.

“Dance with me, Elain?”

“Now?”

“When else?”

Every day forever, if you ask me.

He smiled as though he’d heard the thought, the echoes from earlier, and he held out his hand. It was just as he had the night back in Velaris, and, again, Elain took it without hesitation.

He pulled her in, her chest meeting his as he wound their fingers together, his other hand finding her waist and holding tight. He looked down at her lovingly, reverently, and it was no decision at all to rise up on her toes and press her lips to his. The dulcet tones of a song danced around them as they swayed, the room warm and his arms warmer. Elain felt something growing within her, a certainty that she’d been dancing around all week, that this was something she’d never had before. Never like this.

This was the life she wanted, the life she chose.

Lucien pulled back to kiss her forehead, then looked down into her eyes.

This was home.

“To never being bored again,” she whispered, the smile on her face echoed on his.

“To many more holidays with you, Elain.”

#acotar gift exchange #gift exchange 2024 #for my new friend #elucien fic #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #holiday vibes #oops all smut and fluff #what are you doing new year's eve?

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