#whoever decided to put deadlines immediately before and after christmas..

[benjaminsblog]

Ben v 2024

Three days into the new year and so far I’m not liking what 2K24 is offering up! Got a cuppa in hand? Ok, let’s go:

I spent New Year’s Eve & Day at Cheltenham racecourse, which eventually panned out ok, but started poorly. The van I was scheduled to take broke down the night before, which meant I had to spend 3-and-a-half hours in the office on NYE morning with a colleague getting the replacement van up to speed before I could go. Normally it wouldn’t be such a laborious task, but horse racing is very different to most of our other jobs, so it wasn’t a quick plug-and-play situation.

I arrived at Cheltenham just before 2:30, which still gave Crofty and me ample time to get ourselves ready for the following day’s racing. Despite our backlog of work and a few more gremlins rearing their heads, we made good progress for a couple of hours before we were suddenly plunged into darkness - we’d been powered off! Some bright spark had told the chap in charge of power that the site was clear, even though we’d informed the unit manager we were sticking around. This was all the more baffling given that whoever it was that gave the order was not onsite themself!

That brought the day’s shenanigans to a screeching halt, and left us with more ground to make up the next morning than we would have liked. However, we managed to deliver a clean show against all odds, and I was able to breeze the 2-hour journey home fuelled by this little victory. For added fun, someone nearly careered into me on a roundabout, which resulted in a very different kind of screeching halt.

Day 2 also went heavily off-script - Dad drove down to mine to lend me his car for a month or two - mine is beyond saving, and wheels are gonna be very handy in the immediate future (read on, Macduff). We stayed long enough to jump start my old banger (in readiness for a scrapper coming to collect), before we hopped back in Dad’s car so I could drive him home to Oakham. On a good day, the journey is no more than 2 hours, and we were making very good progress until we reached the outskirts of town to discover that every single road had been flooded by Storm Henk. Dad had only left a few hours previously, so it must have absolutely chundered it down.

After a few failed alternative routes, we struck upon the nearest train station, which was giving no sign of issues. However, once we rocked up at Kettering station, it was clear that the rain had put paid to that idea, too. We debated our options for a while before deciding to deposit Dad at a nearby hotel and cross everything that the following day would allow him to complete his journey. Happily, he did indeed make it home the next day, ending that segment of drama.

I spent the majority of Day 3 in Luton looking for a new place to live after I received an early Christmas card from my landlord informing me that I had two months to make myself scarce - which is never welcome at any time of year - but the timing made the deadline seem a lot closer.

Viewing #1 was cancelled at the eleventh hour, #2 was the size of a shoe box (and a very grubby one at that), and #3 - although much more acceptable - was smaller than my current flat and pricier with it. I can at least say I got the ball rolling and got some viewings under my belt, but it was a bit of a dud day in truth. I consoled myself with the fact that I managed to fit in an impromptu blood donation while I was in town, so at least somebody benefitted from my efforts over the last few days!

[miceenscene]

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

--

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

--

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

taglist: @kelenloth ; @darnitdraco ; @gracie7209 ; @616wilsons ; @icanbeyourjedi ; @astroboots ;

[cuddlepilefics]

22.    Christmas Fair

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Bang Chan

Caregiver: 2racha

 Chan’s POV.:

Officially we were on break over the seasonal holidays but me being the workaholic I am, I wasn’t able to sit still and do nothing. That’s why I went to the studio to work on some new tracks. It was much more fun to compose stuff if you could just play around a bit with out the pressure of deadlines. I spent most of the day alone at the studio, losing track of time as I tried out new beats. My members were probably resting at the dorm or roaming the city. There was a small Christmas fair in the town center and my phone kept blowing up with begging texts, asking if we could all go there together. After replying that I’d love to go there tomorrow because I’m busy at the moment, I muted my phone to avoid distractions as far as possible. When I finally shut my computer off and bundled into my coat, preparing for the walk home, it was already very late in the evening. I skipped lunch and haven’t had dinner yet, so I decided to pick up a bite to eat on the walk home. I’d be passing by the fair anyways, why not get something from one of the food-stands there.

 Changbin’s POV.:

Chan had been at the studio all day. It was already getting late and one by one my members all went to bed. The only ones remaining in the living room were Jisung and me. We felt a little guilty because our leader was still working and we didn’t. After all, it’s 3racha that produces the songs for stray kids and 3racha also includes Jisung and me, not just Chan. That’s why we grabbed notepads and worked on some lyrics, hoping they’d be of use when Chan would present us the new tracks he was working on. We had both tried to call Chan numerous times over the past thirty minutes to convince him to come home but he never picked up. Then suddenly my phone rang. “Chan?” – “Yeah, hey. I saw you tried to call me?” – “Yeah, we wanted to ask you to come home. It’s getting late.” – “Ah, I’m already on the way back. Y’all already had dinner, right?” – “Hyung, it’s almost midnight. Everyone accept for 3racha is asleep already.” – “I’ll eat a bit on the way, so it might take a bit longer. Should be home in about twenty minutes.” – “Alright, take care, hyung.” – “See you.” And with that the call ended.

 Chan’s POV.:

I didn’t really enter the fair because I mostly just wanted to get home quick, but I found a food stand on the outer edge of the fair which sold fish cakes. I bought a fish cake and also picked up a small bag of roasted chestnuts to snack on while walking. I stuffed the bad of chestnuts into my pocket, feeling the heat through the fabric, so I’d have my hands free to eat the fish cake. The meal was perfect to warm me up on a chilly night like this. I finished the fish cake and munched two of the chestnuts before arriving home and unlocking the door. After kicking off my shoes, I made my way to the living room, where I sound Changbin and Jisung between scattered sheets of paper. “Hyung, you’re finally back”, the youngest 3racha member whisper-shouted. “You are aware that we are on Christmas break, right hyung?”, the older rapper scolded. “Aish, yes I am”, I said directed at both of them, “But hey, I brought you some roasted chestnuts to make up for not being home.” Changbin just rolled his eyes at my poor attempt to distract them, while Jisung happily accepted the bag from me, immediately nibbling on one nut. I have to admit, he had never looked like a squirrel more than he did right now. We both chuckled at our youngest before saying good night and getting ready for bed.

The evening seemed to fade out peacefully but the truth was that my belated dinner turned out to have been a mistake. Or at least my food choice had been a mistake. The fish cake wasn’t agreeing with me so well. I couldn’t remember whether there were hints of it being undercooked or if it tasted weird, I just knew that my stomach wasn’t too happy about it. It had started to hurt a few minutes after I arrived home. Slowly the pain increased into cramps, that felt like somebody was stabbing the upper area of my abdomen with a dull knife. I knew that I should just go to bed, everybody else was asleep already. Maybe I’d be able to just sleep it off.

My attempts to sleep the pain off, ended about ten minutes later when the pain had turned into nausea. I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could because Changbin had just gone to bed and was probably not that deeply asleep yet. Slightly bent over with one arm around my middle and the other braced against the wall, I stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the light. I did make it to the toilet but as soon as I had settled on my knees in front of it, the urge to throw up was gone. I pushed myself back up, groaning in frustration that I had gotten up unnecessarily but as soon as I was on my feet again, I immediately felt sick again. The cycle repeated itself a few times, till I decided to just stay in the bathroom whether I had to throw up in the end or not.

 Changbin’s POV.:

I hadn’t been asleep yet, when Chan left the room again. He was probably just going to the restroom, so I closed my eyes again, trying to go to sleep. When he still wasn’t back twenty minutes later, I suspected, he had snuck to the living room to continue working there on his laptop. It’s not like that had never happened before, so to me that was the most likely explanation for his disappearance. I was getting angry at our leader’s behavior, we were on Christmas break for duck’s sake, why couldn’t he just make use of the time he’s given to rest? Controlling my anger to not wake the younger Aussie in our room, I quietly pushed off the blanket and slipped out of the room, determined to drag our leader’s workaholic ass back to bed. When I got to the living room however, everything was dark. Now I really had no idea where my hyung could have gone. On the way back to my room, there was light shining through underneath the bathroom door.

I gently tapped my finger against the door, opening it when I heard a low “Yeah?”. Chan was resting with his back against the bathtub, looking up at me with dark circles under his eyes. “Hey, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in bed?”, I frowned, noticing the yellowish pallor of his cheeks. “Kinda stuck here”, he mumbled, closing his eyes. “How so?”, I asked, taking a seat opposite of him. “Dinner’s not sitting well. I’m ok, it just hurts right now but everytime I try to get up, I feel like I’m going to be sick”, he breathed. “Was it the chestnuts?”, my eyes widened, remembering that Jisung had finished almost the entire bag. The leader shook his head: “Fish cake” Ok, at least that made only one sick member. “What are you going to do now? Just stay here for the night?”, I questioned. “Probably”, he shrugged, muffling a burp into his fist. “I actually hope I’d just throw up. I’ll probably be fine once it’s out”, he admitted uncharacteristically shy. I sighed and got up.

 Chan’s POV.:

Changbin just left and I was glad he’d get the sleep he needed, even though I really didn’t want to be alone right now, it was still better that making one of my dongsaengs stay awake with me. I could handle myself, always have. Could I really? Another twist of my stomach made me doubt it as my mouth started to water. I shifted back onto my knees in anticipation, when the door cracked open once again. I didn’t turn to look at whoever came in, not even when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, I got you a bottle of water. Maybe if you chug that down really fast it will make everything come out”, Changbin whispered, setting the bottle down next to me. “Thought you had gone back to bed”, I mumbled sheepishly, wrapping my arms tighter around my middle and gritting my teeth as I was hit with another cramp. “And left you here? Never!”, my dongsaeng gasped. I felt really fuzzy and warm at this comment but was soon brought back to reality when a wave of nausea washed over me. I decided to go along with Changbin’s idea and uncapped the water bottle. Raising it to my lips, the very first sip made it clear that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. I struggled to swallow and it seemed like my mind was preventing me from putting anything else into my already upset stomach. Choking, I spat out the water that was still in my mouth, handing the bottle back. Luckily, the rapper got the hint and quickly took it from my hand. The coughing triggered a gag but that was it. “S-Sorry, c-can’t”, I forced out between clenched teeth, still hovering over the toilet. Changbin sighed and rubbed my back in soothing circles as I breathed heavily, on the edge of throwing up but not quite there. I could taste the fish cake, I could even feel it at the back of my throat but it just wouldn’t come out. Frustrated teeth make their way down my face and I didn’t even bother wiping the away, knowing there’d just be new ones.

 Jisung’s POV.:

I always needed some time to fall asleep. I heard shuffling in the hall and people talking in hushed voices but decided to stay in bed, if they don’t value their sleep, it’s their problem, not mine. Until I heard quiet sobs, that is. Startling at the different noise, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, careful to not wake the maknae I was sharing a room with. Padding down the hallway, I followed the noise, ending up in front of the bathroom door. I tapped the door twice as a warning, before carefully pushing it open and stepping in. Sitting on the bathroom floor, I found my other two 3racha members. “What’s going on?”, I yawned, squatting down next to them. With Chan seemingly unable to speak, Changbin answered for him, his hand never leaving the leader’s back: “Channie-hyung had a fish cake for dinner, which isn’t quite agreeing with him. He really needs to be sick but can’t. I tried to make him chug water but he can’t even get that down and I have no other idea what else to do.” Oh, that explains why our hyung is crying so hard. He must feel really bad if he’d voluntarily throw up. I chewed on my lips, thinking hard. The water would have been the first thing to come to my mind too but then I had a different idea. Grabbing a hair clip from the sink, I motioned for Changbin to switch positions with me. He nodded, watching me closely, trying to figure out what I wanted to do.

I knelt down behind my oldest hyung, clipping his bangs back in one swift motion. “Hyung, I’m going to hug you really tight, ok?”, I muttered into the leader’s ear. He nodded, removing his arms from his stomach, gripping onto the edge of the bathtub and toilet seat instead. I gently snaked my own arms around his middle, feeling his tense abs under my hands. “Just slap my arm if it hurts too bad or you want me to stop”, I warned before slowly tightening my arms around him, increasing the pressure I was putting on his stomach. At first nothing was happening, Chan only flinched a bit in pain, till he suddenly pithed forward in my hold, retching harshly. I could see his knuckles turning white, as he braced himself before retching again. This time, there was actually something coming up, although it wasn’t much. I closed my eyes, afraid the feeling of Chan’s stomach, contracting underneath my arms in combination with sight and smell, would send my own stomach over the edge. Instead, I just kept holding my hyung in a back hug, feeling every twitch of his muscles and following his movements when he jerked over the toilet bowl, trying to ignore the sounds of liquid hitting liquid. Every cough, gag or burp was amplified by the porcelain bowl, forcing me to grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, while trying to keep my grip steady. ‘Alright Sungie, just think of puppies, cute little puppies’ I told myself.

Changbin must have seen my face change color because he tapped my back before gently pushing me to the side and taking my place. I don’t usually get sympathy sick but that just now was really testing my limits. With a jerking motion of his head, he signaled for me to leave. His eyes told me that he got it handled and that I should flee as long as I still could. I nodded quickly, slipping out of the bathroom and closing the door between us. Shakily, I went to my room to get my phone and headphones to drown out the noise coming from the bathroom. Turning up the music, I went to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. While I waited for the water to boil, I fetched two peppermint teabags, dropping them into a teapot. I decided to make more than just one cup of tea because my own stomach was still doing flips too. I was still waiting, when my stomach tightened, forcing me to quickly lean over the sink. Luckily the weak gag brought nothing up but that was a close-call. I rested my forehead against the counter, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. I was able to get my bearings and straightened back up to pour the water over the teabags, taking the teapot along with three cups to the coffee table.

Soon, the pair emerged from the bathroom, Changbin supporting a sweaty Chan to the couch, before taking off to fetch a bucket, just in case. “Feeling better?”, I asked, anxiously playing with my fingers. “Yeah, thanks mate”, the oldest replied, voice hoarse from getting sick. He curled up on the couch, drawing his legs up a bit as he shivered. He must be pretty cold in his sweat-through shirt, so I pulled the woolen blanket we always keep in the living room from the back of the couch, covering his trembling form completely. Only barely catching the quiet “Thanks”, a small smile spread on my lips as Changbin returned, placing a bucket next to the couch. He guided me to the other couch where we could cuddle while keeping a close eye on our leader. Seems like we’re in for another 3racha all-nighter….

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

think of all the fun i´ve missed (think of all the fellas that i haven’t kissed)

-

merry (early) christmas @leifdonnellies! i was your secret santa and i had a lot of fun writing this fic for you :D i hope you enjoy it and have a great holiday season! (the title is from santa baby and really doesn’t fit with the fic all that well but i thought it was funny...)

-

Tobin Batra knew every word in the English dictionary, and yet he still didn’t know the right words to describe the chaos that was SPRQ Point holiday parties. 

After going to one for this first time, Tobin immediately knew why STEM kids and queer kids were never the people throwing parties in high school. When you combined those groups into the group that was the fourth floor of SPRQ Point, the result was a drunken mess of a gathering. 

The floor was cleared off as it would be for any business-related gala, but instead of tasteful lighting and tech speeches, there were tacky Christmas lights strung up and shitty music blasting from every speaker. 

And yet, Tobin loved them. He loved his oddball group of friends and colleagues, and it was fun to hang out with them without any pressure of deadlines and CEO visits, and instead just a week-long break to look forward to. At recent parties, Zoey’s DJ friend Mo provided the music, and he did have objectively better music taste than anyone else there. Tobin liked Mo, and liked getting to chat with him at parties, mostly about music and queer stuff. Another plus of parties was seeing who gave the most outrageous white elephant gifts- Tobin was currently winning that competition ever since he gifted Max a live chinchilla a year ago. (Max still had the chinchilla. He named it Joan after their former boss, and it was beloved by everyone.) Yet another great thing about it was that it was the one night that they finally could replace the bread bar or oatmeal bar or whatever bar with an open bar, because apparently it was legal if it was for a party. But Tobin’s favorite thing about the holiday parties was the fact that it was the one night a year that his boyfriend let Tobin kiss him in front of their colleagues. 

Leif was surprisingly shy about PDA, and had been as long as Tobin had known him. His parents weren’t exactly the most touchy-feely people, with each other or with their children, and it had clearly rubbed off on Leif. Tobin was fine with this, of course, he’d never want to make his boyfriend uncomfortable. Plus the two lived together, and Leif was incredibly touch starved at home, so it wasn’t really a big deal that they never did more than very occasionally hold hands at work. That being said, Tobin discovered recently that Leif found it “morally wrong”- Leif’s words, not Tobin’s- to disobey the laws of mistletoe, and he planned to fully exploit that fact at the party.

Mistletoe was a big thing at these parties- because obviously it was, what chaotic Christmas party was complete without a tiny, slightly-poisonous plant that required you to kiss whoever’s nearest to you if you found yourself under it? When they arrived at the party, Tobin snatched a cluster of mistletoe that was hanging right outside the elevators. He figured that was a fair place to steal it from, because as much as he loved the tradition, it was a bit of a cruel place to hang it, catching people off guard like that. Leif glanced over and saw him grab it, but just rolled his eyes as Tobin winked at him and smirked. 

“Hey guys!” Zoey greeted as they joined the group. “You can put your gifts over there…” She pointed to a small pile before glancing at the package in Tobin’s arms with concern. “I do not want to know what’s in there this year.” 

Tobin smiled wide. “Well, I tried hard to top Joan the chinchilla, but I think it was my peak.” 

Leif and Zoey rolled their eyes in unison as Leif gave Tobin a shove towards the stack of gifts. 

Tobin soon joined the rest of the party, dragging Leif with him and forcing him to dance to the loud music with him. As per usual, Mo had created a killer playlist, albeit a bit of a weird conglomeration of songs. Any playlist that went from a stunning, slow cover of Someday At Christmas (that seemed to have been sung by the DJ himself) immediately into the original version of Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer had to be made by someone at least a little bit high. 

About an hour into the party, Tobin could tell that Leif was getting overwhelmed by all the people and the sounds, so he silently took his hand and pulled him into the nest. 

“Thanks,” Leif said once they were out of earshot of others. He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he sat down on the conference table. “Sorry, I don’t know what was happening back there, I’ve been better with social stuff for a while, I guess it just… I dunno… it’s still hard sometimes.”

“Bro, it’s okay, I get it. You never need to apologize about anxiety stuff. And it’s not going to be all better, all the time, and that’s okay. You’ve been doing so good lately, Leif, and you deserve to celebrate that.” Tobin sat next to Leif and put his hand over Leif’s. 

Leif turned to him and smiled softly. “Thank you, babe.” 

Tobin lay his head on Leif’s shoulder and began rubbing gentle circles on Leif’s hand with his thumb. “You’re welcome.” 

Neither man spoke for a few minutes, and Tobin could hear Leif doing some deep breathing, something he often did as a way to calm his anxiety. 

Eventually, when Leif seemed to have fully relaxed, he turned towards Tobin and smiled at him again. “Have I mentioned that you look really nice tonight?” 

Tobin laughed. “A few times. But you can tell me again.”

“Well you do. Really nice.” 

Leif leaned forward and kissed Tobin, and Tobin counted it a win that his boyfriend kissed him at work with no mistletoe involved. 

Tobin pulled away much sooner than he wanted to, because they were still at a party after all. “Hey, you ready to go back?”

Leif squeezed his hand before standing up. “Yeah. I think so.”

  The two of them left the conference room, and only got a few strange looks from the other party-goers as they made their way back to the group. 

“There you are!” Zoey said as she and Simon made their way over. “We were waiting for you to start gifts.” 

The next half-hour was spent in a flurry of white elephant chaos, filled with plenty of cursing and sighing and coming close to tears begging someone to please steal their gift because they don’t even play an instrument, why do they need sheet music for the wii theme?! Although none of the gifts came close to the glory of Tobin’s chinchilla, it was unanimously decided that Leif won this year’s most outrageous gift with the collection of small cowboy hats that Simon ended up with (something Simon was weirdly pleased with receiving.) Tobin had pouted about this decision, seeing as the hats had originally been his idea, but his boyfriend looked so pleased about winning such a stupid contest that Tobin let him take the win without too much complaining. 

It was getting late, and the party would likely be wearing to a close soon. People were still dancing, however- Leif being one of them. He and Zoey and Simon were in the middle of the floor, moving in a way that they must have considered “dancing” (but was really just a weird movement of limbs all over the place). 

The red and green lights were reflecting in Leif’s hair, making the blond curls glow in a way that could only be described as magical. His suit jacket had been abandoned at some point in the evening, so he was wearing only a deep red short sleeve dress shirt with a green vest over it. Despite the cliche color scheme, the outfit looked great on Leif. Tobin watched as Leif threw his head back in laughter at something Simon said, and felt a weird flutter in his heart at the sight. Even after nearly two years of dating Leif, and nearly twelve years of being in love with him, the other man never failed to make Tobin feel like he was fifteen again, looking over at the boy playing video games on the couch next to him, and being hit with a rush of feelings so sudden and so strong that Tobin thought he was dying. 

Tobin moved suddenly from where he’d been standing next to George, asking his friend to hold his drink for a moment. He joined Leif on the dance floor right as Santa Baby faded out (the dance moves done for that song did not bear repeating, to say the least), and faintly processed Mo announcing that their final song of the night was White Christmas because it had just started snowing in San Francisco, so of course it was. 

“Hey.” Tobin announced his presence as he sidled up next to Leif, swaying slightly to the melody. 

“Hi!” Leif turned around so quickly that he needed to steady himself by grabbing on to Tobin’s waist (nothing Tobin was complaining about), his face flushed from dancing. 

“Care to dance?” Tobin put his arms up and around Leif’s shoulders, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Zoey and Simon had begun to slow dance away from them, seemingly lost in each other. 

Leif just smiled in response and began leading Tobin slowly around the floor. Neither one of them were particularly great at dancing, but it didn’t matter. As Tobin heard the song drawing to a close, he fumbled in his jacket pocket for the mistletoe he had grabbed earlier. Upon finding it, he raised his arm above both him and Leif’s heads so that the mistletoe hung above them.

“Hey L.” Tobin said to get his boyfriend’s attention, because he’d somehow not noticed the commotion.

“Yeah?”

“Look up.” Tobin smirked.

Leif did so and immediately rolled his eyes and blushed.

“Well?” Tobin knew he was being obnoxious but didn’t care. “I seem to recall someone here saying that it was wrong to not follow the rules of mistletoe. Are you really gonna go back on your word now-”

Leif shut Tobin up by kissing him. 

Tobin smiled into the kiss, moving his non-mistletoe hand to cradle Leif’s face. People were probably staring at them, but he didn’t care. It’s not like no one knew they were together. 

Leif pulled back after a minute, slapping the mistletoe with indignance until Tobin lowered his arm. Their faces were still close, foreheads resting together.

“Merry Christmas Tobes.” 

Tobin gave Leif another quick kiss and smiled at him. “Merry Christmas Leif.” 

[aziraphalesrarebooks]

Neighborly Affection

Anthony J Crowley was four years old the first time he met the tiny Ezra A Fell; he wasn't impressed.

He was forty-six when he found him again in a bookshop in Soho.

The Childhood Friends, Flower Shop, Christmas, Friends to Lovers fic nobody asked for in the middle of October.

Read here or on Ao3. 

Anthony J Crowley was four years old the first time he met the tiny Ezra A Fell.

He was small, wrinkled and had grey-white curls atop his tiny little head. When he leaned in for a closer look, bright blue eyes stared back at him while his small fingers tangled in his hair and tugged.

Both boys cried after the encounter.

Little Anthony hadn’t been impressed and told his mother as much when they arrived home after the visit. She had tutted and given him a biscuit, promising him that one day the two would be great friends.

 He didn't believe her.

The second time he met Ezra, his mother was babysitting, taking care of the small infant while his mother went shopping for that week's groceries. She had sat him down on their sofa and gently laid the tiny bundle in his arms. This time, instead of his hair, Ezra had wrapped his small fingers around Anthony’s and held them tightly, inadvertently gaining the approval of the young boy in the process.

 He was utterly taken with the baby and had asked his mother if they could keep him.

 She politely told him, "no."

He’d proudly told Mrs. Fell that he had helped his mummy take care of Ezra and that he was very strong; for a baby, that is and asked if they could visit more often.

As the boys grew, Anthony became protective over the little boy.

  When Anthony was in third grade, Ezra started kindergarten. Anthony held his hand as he walked him to his class on the first day, and subsequently every day for the rest of the year.

 He made sure to show him all the best spots on the playground and taught him how to properly kick a football.

He helped Ezra with homework, although, he seemed to have a rather firm grasp on it, or with making new friends; as he’d always been better at it than Ezra.

They were an unlikely duo, despite their age difference, the two got along well and could play for hours while their mothers visited with one another. Often playing under the old apple tree in Ezra's back yard or helping their mothers bake.

 Christmases were the best, they could spend hours out in the snow and ice, only returning to home when they were completely and utterly frozen. Anthony especially loved the days when Mrs. Fell would make them mugs of cocoa topped with extra marshmallows while they thawed beside the fireplace, munching on Christmas biscuits and listening to records.

When Anthony was in sixth grade; his mother fell ill.

 Mrs. Fell did her best to visit her dear friend often, Ezra would keep Anthony company, taking his mind off things for a few moments and allowing him to just be a kid.

By the time he was in eighth grade, she had passed away.

Ezra had been devastated for his dear friend, the older boy who’d he’d grown up with now seemed so lost. He was distant and sad, so unlike the Anthony he knew.

They moved away from the sleepy little village of Tadfield not four months after her passing. Too heartbroken to stay in the home that she’d kept, they moved away to London.

 Ezra missed him terribly.

 When Crowley was in tenth grade, his father remarried. The woman was cold, spiteful and so distant from what he remembered of his warm and soft mother that he missed so dreadfully much. Ezra and his parents had been invited to the wedding. Anthony had recognized him immediately and had all but run over to them. He’d hugged Mrs. Fell so tightly she winced and when he pulled away, he pretended not to have tears in his eyes.

He and Ezra had spent the rest of the evening together catching up and eating more cake than either of them should have.

They both promised the other they would write, and they did for a brief time, then as it usually happens, the letters got fewer and further apart until communication ceased completely.

   When he graduated, he received a package from Mrs. Fell in the post containing fifty pounds and a framed picture of his mother, Mrs. Fell, Ezra and himself smiling widely, eyes full of mischief and mirth.

 He'd cried that night holding the framed photo, missing simpler times and his mother dearly.

 Years later, it still hung proudly in his living room.  

  Anthony, now known almost exclusively by his last name; Crowley, hadn’t thought of Ezra Fell in many years with more than a passing memory. As many adults do, he had forgotten what had been important to him as a child. The times he did stop to think about the Fell’s, he reflected on how perfect the world had seemed during the days spent together with his mother and her best friend and Ezra.

  He’d done well for himself, he’d become a florist of all things and had opened a shop in Soho called Nightshade. He had worked hard, saved and pinched until he’d had earned enough to secure the building and the small flat above it. He’d worked to make it his, painting the shop and arranging the shelves just so. He made his workspace sleek and tidy.

 His work had become popular, even making it into several of the top bridal magazines for arrangements he created for a few celebrity weddings.

His assistant; a woman by the name of Anathema Device, was the only other person he would work with. He felt she kept him grounded, she also happened to make a good cup of coffee.

He was proud of the life he’d created for himself, he had a home, his dream job, a few close friends who meant the world to him and a little snake he’d jokingly named Crawley.

 There were times when he missed his Mother and wished he liked his father and stepmother enough to visit. He often wondered what she would think of his choices, would she be proud of him? He felt that she would. His father had been livid when he'd left the hospital, he had never really wanted to be a doctor, but it had been expected of him. No, at forty-six, he was much happier as a florist than he ever had been as a doctor.

 It was one of those days when he had been thinking a bit too much of his childhood, the days laying out under the huge apple tree in between the Fell’s property and their own. The way the sun seemed to warm his soul all the while listening to Ezra’s insistent chattering or playing some silly little game. As they got older, they would read quietly as their mother's laughed in the kitchen.

 He sometimes wondered what the boy had gotten up to. He had once attempted to find him on Facebook but had never been able to find him. He had probably married some local woman, had a few children, maybe a dog. He hoped he was doing well, that he was happy.

 He was pulled from his musings of times long past by Anathema. “Crowley? When do you need the delivery of roses by? They just called and said they could be a day late.”

 He ran a slender hand through his shocking auburn hair, “Shit, at least by this afternoon so we can start prepping for the wedding this weekend. Call them back and tell them early tomorrow morning at the latest. Tell them if they do this again, we will find a supplier that can meet deadlines.”

 She nodded and walked into the back office.

 Across the street, the relator took down the For-Sale sign in the window of the old tea shop. He briefly wondered who had purchased it, it needed work. The previous owner had done little in the way of maintenance and whoever purchased it would need to put in quite a few hours to make it inhabitable again.

A month later, a work truck arrived.

New windows were put in, repairs were made to the roof and to the building. Once they were finished on the outside, it looked much the same but refreshed. From what he could tell, the inside was being heavily renovated as well.

It was mid-October when a moving truck arrived outside the shop. He knew there was a flat above that shop as well; he’d briefly considered buying it since the space was a bit larger than his own shop but the amount of work needing to be done on it was outrageous. If the new owners were moving in, that must mean that they were close to opening.

He decided to take a nice bouquet over soon, once they were settled to introduce himself. It never hurt to be friendly with the neighbors, especially when they could direct customers over to you.

 A week later, various vans arrived delivering what he assumed was the merchandise they planned to sell.

A bookshop, he concluded by that afternoon.

He’d yet to see the new owners, only a small blue sedan that had been parked beside the building since they’d moved in.

Yet another week passed, and Crowley was beginning to wonder if the shop would ever open. He'd decided it was likely a young couple, pilling all their funds into their dream bookshop.

They still didn’t have a window sign up and neither he nor Anathema had yet to catch sight of the new owners.

  Two more days passed before he spotted any signs of life beyond stocked shelves and an old blue car.

 “Do you think they are ever going to open? If they don’t open by the holidays, I don’t see them lasting the year.” Anathema said as she arranged a new order of succulents, they’d gotten in on the window sill.

 “Move the two bigger ones into the middle of the display, there. But you’re right, maybe they took too big a risk in all those repairs. I told you the place was a wreck when the old owner left.”

 She nodded towards the window, “Don’t look now but I think that might be him!”

 He caught sight of a man around his own age, he had white hair and dressed like his grandfather. Still, he was attractive enough from what he could tell.

 “Exactly what I expected from a bookseller.”

 “Crowley, really. He looks nice enough.”

 “That he does.”

 "He could be single."

 He spluttered, "Oi! That's no way to speak to your boss."

 "You're more than that and you know it," she said, mussing his hair as she walked into the backroom.

 "Hey!" he replied, using his fingers to comb through his hair.

 The next morning, he could tell someone was in the shop. Lights were on and he had seen someone walk past the newly formed window display several times.

 He wondered if he'd been wrong. The man looked about his age, but he'd yet to see any sign of anyone other than the blonde.

 He put together a nice arrangement, nothing too personal but a nice welcome nonetheless, and made his way across the street.

 He knocked twice.

 He heard shuffling, he moved to adjust the floral arrangement, obscuring his line of sight as the door swung open.

 “Oh, hello. I’m afraid you have the wrong address.”

 He propped the vase against his chest and reached out a hand blindly to the other man. “Definitely the correct address, I own the shop across the way and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. My name is Anthony Crowley, but you can just call me Crowley. Everyone else does.”

 He felt a warm hand slide into his own, firm and strong, “Anthony Crowley? Was your mother’s name Beatrice? I do believe we’ve met before.” He said taking the arrangement and leading him into the shop.

 Curiously, he followed.

 The other man placed the flowers on one of the tables up front and turned around.

 His usually quick-thinking brain stuttered to a halt, the man was gorgeous. Bright eyes and plump lips and the softest looking hair he’d ever seen. His hand tingling from where they’d just touched, and...

 Then it hit him.

 Oh.

 “Oh, it’s you! Ezra?”

 Ezra laughed, a sound so familiar and foreign it made him ache. How long had it been since he’d heard that laugh? It was deeper, different but the same.

 he felt a pang of nostalgia wash over him as he thought of all their adventures as children.

 “Quite well, what a surprise to see you! You must tell me how you’ve been. The last mother heard you’d become a doctor like your father.”

 He wrinkled his nose, “I did, just wasn’t for me. I’m much more suited to life as a florist. I’ve been at it… oh, about ten years now. What made you decide to open a bookshop in Soho of all places?”

 “Well, it’s always been a dream of mine. I have visited Soho many times throughout the years and oh! I just came to love it, it felt right. I was a professor of literature for many years and I came to find that I was quite good at finding rare works. It seemed fitting.”

 It didn’t surprise him; from what he remembered of Ezra, he'd devoured books faster than a plate of his mother's biscuits.

 “It’s a nice area, are you married?” he blurted out.

 The man beamed, “Not at all, I thought I might have come close once, but he turned out to be dreadful. It’s just me and my books.” He laughed nervously, “What about you dear?”

 “I was married briefly but we were not good together. We divorced after I started as an intern and I’ve been mostly single since.” He shrugged, "I'm not complaining."

 "If I may ask, what did you practice?"

 "Pediatric oncology, too many sick kids. Too many bad memories, I wanted to help but..." he trailed off.

 "I understand." Crowley was surprised to believe him, he'd been there through his mother's cancer.

 "Well, uh, I better get going."

 “I’d love to catch up, I haven’t gotten my kitchen up and running yet or I would offer you something to drink,” Ezra said sheepishly.

 Crowley laughed, “What about dinner tonight? My treat. We can catch up then.” He pulled out a business card and a pen, scribbled a number on the back and handed it to Ezra. “Call me, I close at 7 tonight. We can go to my favorite place two blocks over.”

 Ezra nodded, "See you tonight, then."

 "Tonight."

 At 7:30 PM, Ezra Fell and Anthony J Crowley walked down the street together. The air was cool, even for this time of year. Their hands brushed accidentally as they moved out of the way of a couple passing them on the sidewalk, Crowley has been surprised to feel a lingering tingle where his warm hand had grazed his own.

 “I should have mentioned it was sushi, are you ok with this?” he asked cautiously.

 He wiggled, Ezra still seemed to exude excitement when food was involved. “It is a favorite of mine!”

 Crowley nodded and held the door for the other man.

 The night went well, they’d gotten along just as well as they had as children.

 Crowley had learned that Ezra’s parents had both passed away recently, his father first then his mother not long after.

 He learned that he’d originally wanted to go into the ministry before a Shakespeare class had inspired him otherwise. He had sheepishly admitted that he would have likely been a terrible priest but was a relatively good professor and had enjoyed it immensely.

 Crowley told him about his strained relationship with his father, about the marriage his father had convinced him would be the best for his career. How she had cheated on him with his father on multiple occasions. How he'd been good as his job but couldn't take the suffering and death.

 They spent time together often, dining out and going to plays or concerts. They fell into a familiar pattern, nearly every night was now spent in the company of the other.

 And despite everything, Crowley found him incredibly attractive.

 Perfect even.  

 He was intelligent and kind, steadfast in his beliefs and was just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

 He also had excellent taste in wine and didn’t mind sharing his finds.

He was a bright light in a world of darkness, and he found that he was addicted to Ezra.

 They were sprawled out on Ezra's old sofa, wine glasses full.

 He was content.

 And quite suddenly, he realized it had come full-circle. That he loved Ezra Fell, that the childhood love he’d felt for the boy he was, held nothing in comparison to the love he felt for the man sitting next to him.

  In the blink of an eye, two years had passed.

Two years of being head over heels for his best friend, two years of dreaming about that soft, unyielding hand in his own, and two years of knowing with the utmost certainty that Ezra would likely never feel the same way for him.

 November quickly rolled around, and the shops of Soho had already begun to decorate for the holiday season. Crowley had been taking orders for poinsettias and other Christmas arrangements for most of the day.

 Anathema and he sat discussing the upcoming orders and how to best get them delivered quickly and efficiently so they wouldn’t be left clogging up their window space when she nudged him in the side. “Your boyfriend’s coming over.”

 “Ngk. He’s not… we’re not. Anathema” he whined. She had been teasing him for months since she had sussed out his feelings for their neighbor.

 She grinned and stuck out her tongue as the bell rang over the door. "You should just kiss him already, he likes you too."

 "Go away!" he hissed, under his breath as Ezra walked into the shop.

 “Oh, will you look at the time, it’s my lunch break.” She said tapping her watch, then stood up, grabbed her bag and walked out the door heading towards her favorite café.

 He turned his attention to Ezra, “Mr. Fell, how may I assist you today?” he teased.

 “I had hoped to steal you away for a bit, but it seems Miss. Device had a hankering for caffeine… or she wanted to see her young fellow before he left for the day.”

 Crowley laughed, it was no secret Anathema had a thing for the klutzy barista. Newt was a nice enough man, but he certainly didn’t see what she saw in him. “She has asked him out three times already and he still hasn’t gotten the hint. She told me she’s going to just kiss him and drag him to bed if he doesn’t catch on soon.”

 Ezra raised an eyebrow at that, mumbling something under his breath that sounded like “I know the feeling.”

 “Hey, did you want any arrangements? I’m about to place the first order for poinsettias, mistletoe, and evergreen.”

 He sighed, “I suppose, whatever you think best dear. I do love seeing young couples getting caught under the mistletoe.”

 Crowley nodded.

 “And done, I'll bring it by when everything comes in. I think we can close for lunch a few minutes early, Anathema should be back soon, and I’m starved. What did you have in mind?” he grabbed his coat and keys from behind the counter, taking a moment to lock up.

 “Sushi?”

 “Sounds good.”

 During the walk to their favorite restaurant, their hands accidentally brushed not once, not twice but three times. he wasn't sure why Ezra kept running into him, but his poor heart wouldn’t take it if it happened again.

 Ezra took a sip of his tea, swirling it around in the mug. "What would you say to Christmas this year at my parent's place? We haven't gone home in a while and it would be nice to get away for a few days."

 Crowley grimaced, "I haven't had Christmas in Tadfield since... well, you know."

 "We don't have to, you can come over to mine."

 "You know, one of the things I have missed most about Christmas was the biscuits and cocoa. Sure, why not, let's do Christmas back home."

 Ezra grinned and popped a piece of fish into his mouth, wiggling happily as he did so.

 November soon became December, and both rarely had time to leave their shops, often staying open until 8 or 9 to keep up with the near-constant influx of customers. Their meals consisted of takeout and copious amounts of wine to survive.

  Then, finally, it was Christmas Eve. They were closed for the next three days, as Christmas had fallen on a Saturday that year and would be closed as usual on Sunday.  

Crowley had come to find that he was looking forward to his trip to Tadfield. It wouldn’t be the first time they had returned to Tadfield, often using the cottage as a retreat when the bustling London streets became too much, but it was the first time he'd gone by during Christmas.

Ezra left the night before, Crowley would be meeting him the next morning if he was able to beat traffic. He'd packed the essentials, fed Crawley and headed on his way.

By the time Crowley arrived, it was nearing noon. He noticed the wreath on the door and smiled, Ezra loved Christmas. As children, he remembered the Fell house decorated beautifully in reds and greens. Mrs. Fell always had Christmas biscuits on hand and made the absolute best hot cocoa of anyone he’d ever met.

He gathered the two gifts he’d bought for Ezra along with the extra wine and goodies he’d picked up before leaving London, he managed to open the door and push through before being hit with nostalgia.

 It smelt like his childhood, and as he took in the interior, he noticed decorations that hadn’t seen the light of day in years were out and twinkling as brightly as they had many moons ago.

 Cinnamon candles were burning, and he could smell the freshly baked biscuits wafting from the kitchen.

 He was so overwhelmed, he didn’t notice the shy smile Ezra flashed him.

 “Wow” was all he could say, “Uh, wine?”

 “I take it you like the décor? I got carried away, but Mother always made it so festive, it seemed wrong to only get a few things out.”

 “It’s perfect.”

 Ezra beamed, the room felt brighter somehow. His heart ached, he loved him so much. Being here, with the memories of the past and present made him want, the ache settling in between his ribcage. He wondered what his mother would say if she knew that he'd fallen in love with her best friend's son. She would probably tease him and run over to tell Mrs. Fell.

They made dinner together, Crowley built a fire and put on some old Christmas records Ezra had found while decorating. Before they both knew it, they were dressed in their pajamas and sipping on hot cocoa.

 “You know Ezra, I think this is the best Christmas I’ve had since we were kids. Do you remember the biscuit exchange? Our moms would spend hours decorating and baking then you and I would sneak out handfuls? As a child, I was sure we were unnoticed, but I think they left that plate out just for us.”

 Ezra chuckled, “I believe you are correct in that line of thinking, it would be difficult not to notice two loud little boys barreling into the kitchen.”

 "I used to think of those moments often, so many of my memories were made in this house. My mother truly loved your mother, they could spend hours together all the while you and I were busy causing trouble."

 "I suppose we take after them in that way" he grinned.

   Conversation quieted, as they enjoyed the company of the other while listening to the fire crackling and popping, Christmas music playing softly in the background.

 Ezra sighed, Crowley’s eyes were closed, and he had a warm grin plastered to his handsome face. He stood up and walked over to the small tree; it was the only one he could find but it had worked perfectly well. The lights twinkled and shone, casting a warm glow on the room.

 He picked up the gift reverently, fiddling with the paper as he walked back to the sofa. The package had been wrapped beautifully, he’d taken his time.

 It had to be perfect.

 This could make or break everything, he sighed.

 Crowley’s eyes popped open when he felt the couch dip as Ezra sat back down. The other man was sitting stiffly, he looked nervous. His cheeks were flushed, and he refused to meet his eyes. “Ezra?”

 “I just want you to know, this doesn’t have to change anything. I just, well. I thought you should know.” He passed the red and gold package to Crowley, atop the package was a small bunch of mistletoe.

 For a brief moment, Crowley considered what Ezra would do if he held the greenery above his head and kissed him.

 He looked at it curiously before delicately opening the box, nestled inside was an ornament of all things. It was beautifully crafted, an angel with white hair holding an apple in their hand with a snake that looked suspiciously like Crawley wrapped around him. His golden eyes met blue, Crowley's brows were knitted together in confusion.

 Ezra looked away, flushing as he did. “It reminded me of us, I hope you know how special you are to me, Anthony. You are my oldest friend, I must admit before I knew it was you, I had hoped to get a chance to meet the attractive man across the street. Then, you came over and introduced yourself and I feared I would ruin everything. I have never known a world without you in it, even when we didn’t see one another for all those years, I would think of you and hope you were doing well. Then you waltzed into my life and I have never wanted so badly.” He was fidgeting with the buttons of his tartan pajamas, not looking up.

 “You, are you? You want me?” he breathed, baffled at the thought his feelings could be returned.

 Crowley felt a warm hand softly wrap around his own, entwining their fingers.

 Ezra swallowed hard, “I do, very much and I do hope you want me too.”

 Crowley nodded, arranging himself to be closer to the other man. He reached out his other hand to rest on Ezra’s face, his thumb brushing over his lips and rubbing circles on the apple of his cheek. “I love you, Ezra.” He paused, watching closely for his reaction, “Would you mind, that is… may I kiss you?”

 Ezra sighed in relief, a beaming smile blossoming on his face. “I would love nothing more than for you to kiss me, Anthony Crowley.”

 As kisses go, it was soft and sweet. Uncertain and new, their noses bumping from time to time as they fell into a rhythm.

 Out of breath, flushed with swollen lips, Crowley pulled back, resting his forehead against Ezra’s, “Happy Christmas.”

 “Happy Christmas, Anthony.” He leaned over to kiss him once more, his fingers finding his hair and tangling themselves in the gloriously soft tresses.

 He briefly pulled away, “Oh, Crowley?”

 “Yes, Ezra?”

 “I forgot to say, I love you too. I was dreadfully distracted by your lovely mouth.”

 Crowley snorted and laughed, capturing Ezra’s plump lips in another kiss.

 Anthony J Crowley was four years old the first time he met the tiny Ezra A Fell; he wasn't impressed.

He was forty-six when he found him again in a bookshop in Soho.

 He was forty-eight when Ezra A Fell became his boyfriend.

And he was forty-nine when he became his husband.  

[jus-alilcomforblelad]

so.. i'll be back to regularly scheduled programming on the 14th/15th? (ie my holmesian and aubreyad spins will once again consume me)

by then, the crushing weight of assignments should release me for a short interlude