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drxwsyni · 4 years

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Petrified (pt.1)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST Summary: The two heroes step into a floral boutique, seeking blooming flowers for each other. Instead, they find you, the most precious rose of them all. In noticing just how much such a bright environment seems to take a heavy toll on you, they take it upon themselves to unearth the reasons why - and how to fix it, fix you.

(5.1k words)

Warnings: reader experiences anxiety, mild panic attacks

Friday nights were by far the most strenuous, challenging your mental fortitude to deal with some less than patient customers, along with the physical strain being put on your body to offer the best service possible.

Located in a convenient little building on the first floor was the bustling floral boutique where you were currently being worked far beyond your limits. It was the end of the week and customers were steadily rolling in, new ones entering just as others departed. All arriving for the sole purpose of purchasing a lively arrangement of blooming flowers, neatly accented with variations of greenery and berry-type vegetation.

Amongst the organized chaos of traffic, you were frantically trying to assemble the perfect customization of greenery for each shopper, wrapping it neatly in delicate paper or plastic and string. Applying the finishing touches, you returned to the front counter to hand off the bouquet in exchange for cash or credit, subtly observing the customers' pleased reaction to such an impressive display of flora.

In these reactions to your handiwork did you take pride in your otherwise mediocre occupation, serving as more than enough motivation to push on. However, it was all thanks to your quirk in which you were able to produce such a high quality of service.

Based on society’s standards, your quirk was almost laughable with how weak it was. The ability to support the growth of all types of plants, and maintain their health, titled Nurture. The smaller the plant, the easier it was for the growth to be accelerated. Unfortunate drawbacks did include the strain on your physical health, causing your body to grow more tired with excessive use.

So, here you were nearing the end of your shift in the boutique, situated at the back of the shop slumped over a worktable while supported by a rickety wooden stool. Friday nights being date night for many, you had to put together more bouquets than you could keep track of in the last five hours. And thanks to your unrelenting desire to make every customer pleased with your work, you’d gone and used your quirk on each bouquet to give it a healthy, blooming appearance that none other could produce.

It was nearing 8 o’clock at the moment and all you could think about was the sweet release of unconsciousness that sleep could provide when you heard the telltale jingle of the front door opening. Dragging yourself off the stool and to the front counter, you observed the new customer examining the display of small to medium sized plant pots on the shelves. There were no other shoppers in the store at the moment, leaving the sound of the radio playing quietly behind the counter and the static hum of an air purifier to envelope the room.

After another minute or so of perusing, the new customer made his way to the front counter, where you had occupied yourself with tidying up a few scattered ribbons from a previous arrangement. Looking up, you greeted him with a friendly “Good evening, what can I get for you tonight?”

The man had long black hair tied up in a half-bun, a calm but tired expression plastered across his face as he briefly glanced to the small trinkets on display on the counter before looking back at you.

“Just a simple bouquet, please.”

You couldn’t help but notice the fairly large scar under his right eye as he spoke. Must’ve been pretty painful, you thought before quickly responding.

“Alright, and do you have any preferences on flora type and size of the arrangement sir?” One thing you valued about your job was the reason why people came to make purchases. Although not seriously interested in relationships yourself, you still adored the thought of being able to have such a wholesome impact on something as innocent as love. For this reason you always maintained a bright personality when dealing with shoppers, hoping to convey without words how happy you were to support them in what many would deem a daunting endeavour.

“Just a small bouquet is fine, I trust you’d be better at choosing the flowers than me so you can decide what goes in it.” He gave a gentle smile and proceeded to wait as you typed in the order on the desktop.

“Okie dokie, it’ll take me about five minutes to put everything together. You can take a seat if you’d like or check out our catalogue for upcoming seasonal arrangements.” With that you politely excused yourself and headed towards the room in which all the live greenery was stationed, straw woven basket in hand. It was a space just towards the back of the shop, closed off with glass sliding doors to maintain the perfect temperature so as not to wilt the more delicate foliage.

Briefly glancing in the direction of the customer, you saw he had moved to sit down in the small waiting area, looking down at the phone in his hand. He wore a black long sleeve sweater with a white undershirt just barely peeking out at the collar, along with a pair of black, generally form fitting pants. He seemed to be quite stoic, with an almost practiced calm nature. You wondered what kind of person had woven their way into his heart without being deterred by such an intimidating initial appearance.

Returning to the task at hand, you began making an assortment of flowers with other smaller, complementary pieces of plant life. Delicately pulling each choice from their stand and placing them into the basket, you decided that the current selection should be satisfactory. Sliding open the doors of the greenery room, you made your way back to the front counter, setting the basket down next to the assembly station.

“Excuse me, sir? Could you please take a moment to look at the selections before I wrap them up?”

The man looked up from his phone, offering a quick “Of course,” before making his way in front of the work station where you were currently stood behind.

He momentarily looked over the array of flora, hands in his pockets, before lightly nodding. “That looks perfect to me.”

You smiled slightly more at the approval. “Great, now for the wrapping―is there a certain colour or material quality you had in mind. We also just added some new ribbons to our current selection if you’d like to take a look at that.”

“Unfortunately, my partner is the creative one in the relationship. So once again I’m going to need you to make that decision.”

You always enjoyed the challenge of adapting to these kinds of situations, putting something together based on little information. It always seemed to work out, so you had no objections with his request.

“No worries,” you began as you pulled out a sheet of paper, coloured with a soft muted yellow, overall bringing out the whites of the flowers “plenty of customers ask the same thing so I’d like to think by now I’m at least a little capable of making the right decisions.” As you worked with moving the greenery into place, he continued with the idle conversation.

“I’d imagine you do just fine, but I suppose we’ll see once I give it to them.” He let out a small huff, almost a chuckle as you proceeded to tie a thin white ribbon around the base of the bouquet a few times before pulling it into a bow.

“Well, nothing makes me happier than to see that I’m making people happy.” You pick up the bouquet and move to the register, ringing up the cost of the arrangement, the customer following suit. “So, if they enjoy it you’re more than welcome to stop by and let me know.” You sheepishly smile at him as he hands over the payment in cash.

“I’ll make a note of that, thank you.”

You glance at the clock on the wall, seeing you only had an hour left before your shift ends. Inwardly, you decide that you can handle a little more physical strain to use your quirk on the flowers. After all, this man had been kind enough not to be pushy like so many people had been with you today, and you even got to have complete freedom over the arrangement.

“I’m gonna grab some flower food in the back, I’ll just be a minute.”

He nods as you scoop up the bouquet in your arms, making your way through the large doors towards the back of the room.

You set the bouquet down on the workbench and bring your hands to hover just above the greenery. Concentrating, you will yourself to produce the remaining energy you can muster to treat the flowers. It takes a few seconds, but dimly your hands begin to emit a warm, yellow glow. You watch as the blooms become more vibrant, surging with life while other smaller plants become more plump, as if they had just been picked.

Satisfied with your work, with a new sense of exhaustion threatening to make you collapse if you're not careful, you return to the counter―of course not forgetting to grab the packet of flower food on the way there.

Handing over the bouquet, you offer a warm “Have a nice evening, sir.”

“You too.” He gives another quick smile, and with that he walked out of the boutique, flowers in hand.

―――

The rest of your shift went pretty smoothly, the last hour usually having the least amount of traffic. You only had to deal with one more rude customer, which you were grateful for. Even then you still forced yourself to use your quirk on their order, not being able to deny yourself the validation of good service.

By the time you clocked out it felt as if your limbs weighed a thousand pounds each. Fridays were always like this, and you dreaded it each week. However that still didn’t stop you from doing what you know best, regardless of the toll it was taking on your health.

A long time ago you decided that no matter what you wouldn’t work Saturdays due to a certain incident which involved you passing out in the back room, only for a coworker to find you thirty minutes later when an angry customer began repeatedly ringing the desk bell because there was nobody out front to assist them.

You thought back on that time as you walked home that night, however daydreaming only served to make you more delirious, causing you to trip over a rock and stumble a bit before finding your sense of balance.

Choosing to focus on your surroundings instead, you slowly made your way back to your apartment building. Although excruciatingly painful to do so, you heated up some leftovers and properly got ready for bed instead of opting to immediately crash onto your mattress.

Sleep came almost instantly, and you remained in your incapacitated state until 1 pm the next day.

―――

The weekend went as soon it came, and once again you found yourself back at the flower shop on Monday, tying the strings of your apron around your back. The days leading up to Friday were naturally not that busy, which you were thankful for. If they were you probably wouldn’t have enough energy by the time that nightmare of a weekday rolled around.

When the end of the week finally arrived, every part of your being desperately wished it didn’t. Thursday night had unfortunately zapped you of most of your your strength thanks to a serious incident with shipping.

On these nights the place where your boutique gets their plant life from sends in an extra shipment for what your coworkers had deemed “Flower Friday.” The normal stock would run out before the end of the night without it, so at the end of your shift you patiently awaited for the shipping truck to arrive.

However, once it did the driver and you made the realization that the shipment had taken heavy damage in transit thanks to improper packaging. Cursing inwardly, you still accepted the cargo, knowing you’d have to use your quirk to repair the foliage.

That was exactly what you did, leaving yourself utterly burnt out by the time all the damage was repaired, similar to how you would be by the end of those long Friday shifts.

But you were stubborn, and would not let a little fatigue when you got up the next day to get ready for work stop you. No, instead you dragged yourself out of bed, making a resolution to hold off on using your quirk with a few bouquets here and there to save your energy.

And yet, when the time came to add the finishing touches on each completed arrangement, you decided it was worth the suffering to see the pleased looks on your customer’s faces, and the ideas of how it’ll make their night just a tiny bit more perfect.

Now it was 8:30 pm, and you were fighting every excruciating urge to not black out where you sat, that being on the old wooden stool in the back room.

You almost didn’t register the sound of the front door bells rattling against each other as another customer made their way into the shop. Somehow you willed yourself out of the stool, swearing you saw black spots in front of your vision for a few seconds before arriving at the front counter.

You still genuinely wanted to be in good spirits for your customers, so you pulled a tired smile on your face and looked up to greet the customer.

“Good evening sir, what can I―,”

Stopping mid sentence, your brain processed your lagging thoughts for you to realize the shopper was the same man from last Friday who had been extremely relaxed with how you handled his purchase, much to your appreciation.

“Oh hey, you were here last Friday right? How did your partner find the bouquet?”

The voice you heard respond wasn’t from the person you had just addressed, but another man standing next to him. In your fatigued state it took you until that moment to process his presence. He had long blond hair pulled back into a bun, sporting a black leather jacket, loose white button up and black jeans. Adorned with an expensive looking watch, rings and a thin chain around his neck, the man spoke up.

“So you’re the pretty little songbird who put that sweet bouquet together? Well, his partner thought it was just rockin, ain’t that right Shouta?” He slung an arm around the shoulders of the man next to him.

Once again, your brain running on fumes caused severely delayed reactions, ending with you standing there trying to comprehend the playful compliment sent your way, and how this man was the partner in question for a few seconds. A faint blush appearing on your cheeks, you responded. “Ah yes, I suppose I am. I'm so glad to see you enjoyed it that much.”

The man who you now know to be named Shouta sighed slightly. “He insisted that I bring him here to meet you and get another bouquet. However I’m sure you’re exhausted after a long day so feel free to decline his request.”

To that you gave a lighthearted chuckle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “As if I’d ever deny someone service after seeing how well it was received last time. What can I do for you sir?”

The blond maintained a grin, responding: “Well first you don’t gotta call me “sir” sunshine, Hizashi is just fine. Secondly, I thought I’d get my sweetheart here some flowers to return the favour.”

He’s probably just a naturally affectionate person, you thought to yourself in contemplation of his forward response.

“Sounds good, any preference on flora and arrangement size?” You pulled up the terminal on your desktop for filing orders while the blonde continued.

“How ‘bout you do what ya did last time and make whatever you want. Same size works too.”

You finish up with the order and close the terminal. “Alrighty then, it’ll take around five minutes to make selections so feel free to browse or take a seat in the waiting area.”

“Thanks angel.” Hizashi gave a small wink before occupying himself with a pamphlet on flower upkeep resting on the counter, bringing it back to the seating area.

Briefly glancing in Shouta’s direction, he gives an apologetic look, to which you return with a warm smile before grabbing your basket and heading to the greenery room.

Once inside you take a deep breath, not realizing how shallow your breathing had gotten. Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it.

You were never one to be comfortable with receiving affection, something about it always making your heart race for no good reason. It was anxiety that you couldn’t seem to control no matter how long you spent trying to become stronger in these situations.

Moving on, you start selecting flowers here and there, opting for a darker colour scheme for Shouta, seeming as if he was a much more mellow person than his boyfriend who would appreciate something less flashy. You figured the classic rose would be a good option, choosing the blooms modified to have a much darker crimson colour than the natural type. Accenting it with small white flowers and leafy stems of greenery, you walked out of the room, satisfied with the variety.

Upon returning you see Shouta and Hizashi had already walked up to the assembly station, talking to themselves while they waited for you to return.

Coming up to your side of the counter, you set the basket of foliage down for them to examine. Despite your exhaustion that’s beginning to become quite alarming as you feel yourself repeatedly growing lightheaded, you eagerly await their reactions; specifically that of the man who’s supposed to receive the flowers.

“Exactly what I had in mind, well done (y/n).”

The use of your first name catches you off guard, having normally been referred to “miss” or the occasional rude “lady” by most of your customers. A confused look plasters across your face for a split second, only for your brain to finally register oh right, you're wearing a name tag, idiot.

“Lovely, I suppose I shouldn’t ask about wrapping either and just get started?”

“You know it songbird,” replied the blonde.

With that you started the assembly, turning around to the wall of wrapping to make a selection. You chose a transparent plastic, lightly tinted grey, with a black pattern of lace towards the bottom. Pairing it with a thin gold ribbon, you returned back around to lay out the materials.

“Honestly though, ya barely know Shouta but you still hit all the right notes with these. You’re pretty damn good at―wait, is that my radio show playing over those speakers?”

Stopping at the question, you look up before glancing behind you at the radio which was playing fairly quietly in the background. You remember hearing earlier that the show tonight was pre recorded because the host had some special plans tonight that he couldn’t miss. Which then led you to the understanding that oh god the host was here in your flower shop, and this was part of those unmissable plans.

Turning back to face the two men, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, face draining of colour in the process. Standing in front of you was the pro hero himself, Present Mic, buying flowers for his boyfriend. Like a domino effect happening in your brain, this epiphany led you to connect that his boyfriend was the same man you’d seen quite a few times in the media alongside the voice hero, known as Eraserhead.

Now, you didn’t have a fear of pro heroes, because who would be afraid of such upstanding people, living their life only to protect others. No, what you did have a fear of was people who were in the slightest way intimidating. Call it social awkwardness or just another one of the many things that give you severe anxiety, but knowing how important these two men were in comparison to you nearly had you passing out right then and there.

But of course doing that would only make you feel worse, so instead you managed to steel yourself enough to stay conscious, which would hopefully last you until the end of this god forsaken Friday night.

“O-Oh, yeah it is actually. I like to keep it on Friday nights to combat the boredom when things start to slow down. It’s a really good show.”

Wait, should I tell them I know they’re pro heroes? Would that make it weird? Would it be weird not to say anything and lie about it?

Your thoughts ran at a million miles per minute while you attempted to control the fast paced thudding of your heartbeat. Why is this bothering me, it’s not like they’re not being friendly. Please just calm down.

As if sensing your growing uneasiness due to the silence, Shouta spoke up. “It’s nice to hear someone can stand his blaring.”

“Aw baby, don’t be like that.” Hizashi playfully nudges him while you resume your work, motioning to cut off the ribbon from the roll. He continues. “Well, in any case at least now I know I’ve got a cute lil’ fan listening in on my show every week.”

Awkwardly, you stammer out a quiet “N-no problem, I guess.”

Not fully paying attention to what you were doing anymore thanks to the uncontrollable swirl of thoughts muddling your brain, you manage to nick yourself on the scissors you were holding in an attempt to sever the ribbon from the roll. Drawing your hand back quickly from the blade, you observed a small bead of blood forming over the cut.

“Ah, dangit. Sorry about that, I’ll be right back…” Your sentence trails off as you turn and leave the two to tend to the cut when a hand wraps around your wrist, effectively spinning you back to face them. You let out a small yelp in shock, looking up wide eyed to see that Shouta had produced a thin container from his jacket, setting it on the counter. He proceeded to grab a tissue from the box laying askew next to a small display, before bunching it slightly and applying pressure to the wound.

“I apologize, it was our fault for distracting you from your work.” After a few more seconds of pressure, he releases your hand to open up the small container, pulling out a bandaid from it.

“Really, i-it’s not a big deal.” Somehow you manage to squeak out a few words of consolidation, feeling as if it was your fault to burden them by clumsily hurting yourself. Before you can manage to make any more protests, a pang of fatigue washes over you. Adrenaline, you presume, that had just faded after being startled by the cut and Shouta’s actions leaving your legs shaking weakly beneath you.

You gripped the edge of the counter for support with your uninjured hand, letting the erasure hero apply a bandaid over the cut.

“This idiot has a habit of rushing into fights without a plan, and naturally gets injured quite frequently.” He motioned to Hizashi with a nod in his direction. “It’s because of that I started keeping bandages on me at all times.”

The idle chit-chat helped calm your nerves, distracting you from what just happened. Unfortunately, it was obvious that at least physically there was something wrong.

“Ya doin’ alright there songbird. Lookin a lil’ faint…” Hizashi eyed your paled and slightly shaky form with worry.

“What? Oh, of course―it’s just been a really long night.” You chuckled dismissively as Shouta finished with the bandage, letting you resume your work.

This time you carefully handled the scissors, not getting too close to your fingers as you severed the ribbon.

“I mean no offense when I say this, but I have to agree with Hizashi. You look really exhausted, is this just from work?”

Your eyes flutter up to the two men, both awaiting a response with a mix of concern and something you couldn’t quite identify across their faces. Quickly looking back down in hopes of doing so lessening the growing anxiety building, you contemplate what to say next.

Do I tell them that I use my quirk at work? Would it make them stop worrying if I dismissed how dead I probably look? I don’t want to come off as someone who just complains all the time.

Finishing with the ribbon, you reply. “It’s just, you know...end of the week fatigue. Nothing to worry about.” You force a warm smile, hoping it convinces them as the obvious exhaustion in your voice surely wouldn’t.

Before the two can interrogate you any further, you dismiss yourself to the back room with the bouquet to retrieve a packet of flower food. Of course, your real intention is to utilize your quirk for what was hopefully the last time that night.

You stared at the bouquet laying in front of you on the workbench, hands lightly hovering over the blooms. With unconsciousness threatening your already weakened form so closely, you ponder for a moment if nurturing the greenery is really worth it, or even possible. They look healthy, and if it weren’t for your insanely high standards, nobody would likely bat an eye at the quality.

But alas, the desire to make people happy was much stronger than your concern for self-preservation, so you shoved any negative thoughts out of your mind and did your best to concentrate.

As usual on nights like these, it took a few seconds to activate your quirk, but soon enough the familiar glow began to emit from the palms of your hands. The rose petals took on a new sense of life with your help, even growing in size ever so slightly along with the other miscellaneous plants. Pleased, you finished up, letting your hands steady you against the table for a few seconds longer than normal.

Aside from the mildly increased shakiness in your legs, it seems your physique was otherwise the same as it was before you started. Grateful for this reality, you picked up the flowers and grabbed some flower food, making sure not to rush yourself on the way back for fear of tripping over your own two feet.

The two men were once again awaiting your return, this time at the cash.

Trying not to sigh too loudly while maintaining a polite smile, you handed the bouquet to Shouta and began to ring up the order on the register. Hizashi pulled out his wallet and handed over a cash payment. While you desperately tried to do mental math to give him back his change, the erasure hero spoke up.

“Listen (y/n), even though you might not admit it to us, I know burnout when I see it. You clearly take pride in your job but that doesn’t mean you can neglect your health like this.”

You froze in place at the sudden accusation, tonight will be the death of me. Handing the change to Hizashi, you acknowledged Shouta. “I really am fine, and I’m doing what I love so a little tiredness is worth the reward.”

Shouta simply sighs at this, letting his partner attempt to get through to you. “Okay sweetheart, but when ya look like you're about to pass out it worries us, ya know?”

“Well thanks for the compliment, but I have to insist. This is just more important than any unfortunate side effects of the job.” You blame it on the prolonged exposure to an extreme lack of energy, but you were starting to feel irritable at the display of troubled sentiments, or maybe it was more so an uneasiness at the blatancy of it. Either way, you were glad when they finally finished up with their purchase.

Maintaining eye contact that would send you crumpling if you looked any longer, Shouta made his peace with your resistance for now. “Fine. At least promise that you’ll go straight home when your shift ends. In your state doing more than necessary would just be irrational, not to mention how dangerous it can get around this time.”

Acknowledging the both of them, you spoke. “I will, I hope you enjoy the flowers.”

Dropping a bill you couldn’t quite distinguish into the tip jar, Hizashi flashed you a smile. “We ready to rock Shouta?” He was returned with a nod, and the two began moving towards the front door. Just before the two left, the blonde called out. “You take care of yourself, ‘kay?”

“Of course, Goodnight.” With a small wave to see them off, you finally were able to breath as the sound of the door shutting and the all too common static noise of the boutique filled the room, no other customers in sight.

Lifting your head to examine the clock hanging on the wall, you saw that it was already 8:50 pm. How on earth did it take me twenty minutes to do one order? They usually take me ten at the most. You took into account your less than ideal state, and the accident with the scissors, coming to the conclusion that those events along with the bits of conversation exchanged were more than enough to set you back.

Resolving that there weren’t going to be any customers later that night, as closing was at 9:00, you began cleaning up the shop.

You couldn’t exactly remember the time between cleaning and finally taking account of the money in the register along with tips, but at this point you didn’t care.

Emptying the jar onto the counter, you looked over the haul. Loose change mostly, a generous five dollar bill here and there and what is that.

Picking up a bill that by far stood out amongst the pile, you identified that it was worth one hundred dollars. You stared in disbelief for what felt like hours, but it was only about a minute, before returning it to the pile and adding up the total, putting the money away.

The delirious state that was only getting worse didn’t allow you to speculate who the extremely generous customer was. Rather, you finished up the final tasks to close up shop.

Finally hanging up your apron and pulling on your jacket and bag, you made your way out of the front entrance and locked the doors behind you.

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pondermoniums · 3 years

Text

A little post season 3 ficlet (2749 words) featuring some holiday fluff <3 See tags or read on ao3 here ~

• • • •

Billy still feels it. He wishes his muscle memory had died with him, but it just came back with him too.

The things he felt.

The things It felt.

Everything It made him do.

His psychiatrist tries to tell him that his scars are his body claiming his soul back. Billy couldn’t agree. He didn’t like touching the starbursts on his torso because the shiny scar flesh felt tissue-paper thin—not to his fingertips, but underneath. His heart trembled as if he could just push a little too hard, and enter his ribs—

“Hey, the new place opened up off Main Street. You know those new roads they’re building? There’s already a Greek place there. Let’s get a menu.”

Billy frowned at him. Steve Harrington. He’d been at the mall. Billy didn’t remember seeing him…during…but afterward. In the spotty shreds of memory that were all his own, he remembered Steve looking nearly as bad as he felt. The memories swirled together like a circus dream. Steve and…Robin. Her name is Robin…in striped costumes. Steve carried Max away from his body. Robin practically did the same for the girl with a number for a name. All of them glowed with Starcourt neon pink and purple and red.

Steve’s car hummed around them, and fell silent when he turned onto the fresh asphalt of Hawkins’ new road. Steve laughed a little. “Farmer Higgins is probably still fuming. Last thing the mayor did before he got booted out of here was steal land for these businesses.”

“What’s it matter?” Billy exhaled. There were less people in Hawkins to fuel the shady economy anyway.

“Well I can’t speak for your Camaro, but my car doesn’t last long, driving brodies with trees in the way.”

His little sapphire. A dark mixture of humor and apathy seeped into his blood at the memory of Steve Harrington, of all people, slamming into him. He didn’t do it hard enough.

Now he sat in the car Steve drove. Not because the Camaro couldn’t be fixed, but because Billy wasn’t fit to drive yet. Maybe there was something full-circle about it. Or a broken circle; an open-ended thing, like Billy.

“As if you could do a brody.”

Steve smirked. “Thankfully I’ve ruined enough fields for practice.”

And then he pulled right off the road, slipped through a tiny thicket of trees framing the road, and burst upon a dry, yellow field. He turned sharply, throwing Billy against him…until the car locked into a paradox of calm and chaos. The back wheels revolved around them to dig a doughnut in the earth. Steve let the wheel go, and they rocked as the car jerked with the front tires straightening.

Steve looked around them to find the road again and made a mock sound of getting sick. “Glad we didn’t eat first.”

He grinned at Billy, making him realize a smile had stuck on his face like a cramped muscle. He pushed a hand over his mouth, physically melting it off.

The food was good. The flavors shoved their way over his pallet. It was kind of hard to enjoy food now. He ate when his body needed it but he didn’t get the emotional reaction to it—

“I didn’t know we had Greeks in Hawkins,” Steve conversed openly. A small, lost part of Billy remembered Steve calling him out for being mouthy during basketball, but Steve could talk. He wiped his mouth and dug back into his rice plate. “Then again, Robin and Dustin always have something to say about authenticity. Like you spend a day outside of Indiana and you’re worldly.”

“Did you forget where I’m from?” Billy spoke before he meant to. California didn’t seem to matter much any—

“Did you?” Steve tossed back.

Silence fell over their booth while Steve waited. Then he went back to his food when Billy clearly didn’t care about responding.

Over and over again.

Steve picked Billy up.

Hospital.

Food.

Back to Cherry Lane.

Steve talked. Sometimes Billy replied.

Then things began to change. Steve took Billy to the grocery store after Billy’s therapy. Billy had emerged ruddy-eyed liked he smoked a pound of weed, and Steve had merely said, “I’m feeling tacos.”

Only instead of a restaurant, he took them to the store. And then the Harrington house. Billy talked more there.

“No, no, it’s queso fresco.”

“It’s just cheese, though?”

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the one who grew up with farmers. Different rain waters different grass. That makes different cows, which make different milk. Do you know anything about breweries?”

“Do you?” Steve challenged while they made a mess of his kitchen counter. Crumbles of white cheese, lettuce, and other tacos toppings littered the fancy granite.

“I know that breweries stay put. Because the water’s different. They have to have the right water to make the right beer. I haven’t had my favorite lager since I moved here.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Billy told him. Billy told him a lot of things. Steve just…got a rise out of him the way his therapist couldn’t. Then again, Steve never asked about all the things Billy wanted to burn out of his brain.

Then Cherry Lane fell off the list. Billy couldn’t say how exactly he moved into Harrington’s house. Maybe the food flowed into Billy falling asleep, and starting the next day from Steve’s house just happened too many times. Maybe Max used Steve’s pool too many times. Maybe it was when Billy realized Steve wasn’t just driving him to his physical and mental therapy sessions.

He walked out of the physical therapy gym at the back of the hospital to meet Steve in the same lobby they parted ways in. But Steve wasn’t there. Billy asked the nearby receptionist if “the guy with the hair” had gotten lost to the bathroom, but she only replied, “He’s running a little overtime, but he should be on his way.”

Billy’s appointments took hours. It made sense for Steve to leave and come back—

But the elevator dinged, and Steve was too busy reading something to not walk into a passing nurse. “Oh! Ow—sorry! Sorry,” he exclaimed, holding his arm…

He rolled the shoulder of that arm on the way through the parking lot, swinging the arm round and around like he was warming up for tennis. Inside the car, Billy cornered, “What were you doing in there?”

Steve glanced at him but shrugged as he turned the ignition. “Blood work. An IV drip. MRI’s. My usual stuff. The drip took longer this time.”

“Usual stuff? How come I’m just now hearing of this?”

“Remember, Robin used to meet us here? She got cleared faster.”

“Cleared out of what? How are you more broken than she was?”

Steve stared at him for an unnerving minute. “They…kind of beat the shit out of me. So… I mean, you pack a wallop, but Russians with an agenda put you to shame.”

Billy suddenly wondered if he’d overstepped a boundary. Steve just talked so much, and took whatever Billy gave him without flinching that he never considered…

“Getting concussed and doped up with unknown chemicals isn’t everyone’s normal Thursday.”

Billy had forgotten that Steve had been through shit like this before. Not with the same variables, but… “I forget that your normal got thrown out the window before I got here.”

“It’s not a competition,” Steve tried to say lightly. He waved a hand in front of the vents as if their lingering in the parking lot was just to wait for the heating to kick on.

“And if it is, who’d win?”

“Oh, I think Will Byers has us beat.”

That…hit differently than Billy expected. A laugh burst out of him, like it had just been waiting for a weight to lift off of him to break free. “Yeah. Maybe he does.”

Then they went to Steve’s house, where more and more of Billy’s clothes had accumulated. The kitchen had been stocked with food bought from Steve’s wage and Billy’s top-secret government allowance—which turns out, was rather high. Steve, for all his fancy furniture and basically bottomless bank account thanks to his parents, had to pick his jaw up off the floor when Billy finally revealed the monthly check to him.

“Holy shit. Don’t let the nerds see that; they’ll siphon quarters out of you for the arcade.”

“They’re old enough to want beer and condoms.”

Steve scoffed as he flipped their dinner pancakes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they’ll sooner pop their cherries than go for beer.” Then he grimaced and waved his spatula. “New subject! Change the subject.”

Billy laughed from the breakfast bar, where he was arranging his medication into a days-of-the-week organizer. It was just a bar of little snap-closed boxes, but it helped him keep track of the pills he took—and the ones he ignored.

Steve had asked him once, “Why do you always leave the red ones?”

“They turn me into a vegetable.”

“Oh. You can’t, like…split it in half? Half vegetable?”

Billy couldn’t say why he felt comforted by Steve’s uniquely clueless way of thinking. Perhaps the guy actually made sense, or maybe he just over-simplified things in an over-complicated world.

Now, though, he set the spatula down with the announcement, “Oh! I got you something. Well, I hope I got the right stuff.”

Billy didn’t go with him to the garage, but he did follow Steve with his eyes. Blue irises locked onto the shockingly familiar box of lager when Steve returned. “Where in the hell did you find that?”

That dopey, thrilled grin made Steve glow like the Christmas lights they’d thrown all over the open floor plan. “Dude, there are professional shoppers! I mean, that makes each can like…a twenty-dollar beer, and this is the only box I got, but this is the stuff you were talking about, right? The lady on the phone said they released other flavors, but you only said ‘lager,’ so it’s what I got.”

The cans were practically frozen from being in the garage, but Billy tore open the box as well as he could to pry one out. “I don’t think I’ve been given the okay for alcohol.”

“We can water it down.”

“You don’t water down beer!”

“Then split one with me. I’ve chilled glasses somewhere…”

He went digging in the freezer drawer and pulled out plastic wine glasses. Billy snorted as he accepted one. “This is so cheap.”

“Yeah well, even mom’s fancy bimbo friends break wine stems around the pool. Gimme that.”

Billy appreciated that Steve made it sound greedy, instead of pitiful. Billy had trouble with his hands.

The can snapped open with a satisfying metallic crack. Billy teased as Steve poured, “Is this your first rodeo? Look at all that foam.”

“We’ve got time. The pancakes are almost done.”

Billy pushed his pill organizer aside to rest his chin on his arms, listening to carbonation sizzle while he watched Steve’s shoulder blades move under his sweatshirt.

“When do you get cleared for pot?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be officially cleared for that—hey, hey!”

Steve had turned around, leaning back against the counter with a pancake in his hand and a full cheek. “Whuh?”

“You’re eating my dinner! Dump the skillet over a plate and get over here!”

Steve came around to sit on the stool next to him with a pancake in his mouth and—

“Are those my slippers?”

“You mean my slippers that I hadn’t worn yet? Yeah, I took them back,” Steve retorted.

Billy successfully knocked one off his foot. “They still had the tags when I got to them. So dibs.”

Steve kicked the other slipper into the living room. “No dibs if you don’t have both.”

“You’re wearing my sweatpants. I get your slippers.”

“I get your beer and you get my pancakes.”

“Not if you eat all of them! Syrup, now,” Billy demanded with a grabby hand gesture.

Steve disintegrated into giggles that made him sound as much like a little kid as movie heartthrob. He finished pouring and passed the bottle.

So it went. Back and forth. Back and forth.

First Steve took Billy’s time. The minutes that built into hours driving to and from the hospital. Then Billy ate his food. Steve covered the restaurant tabs until they switched to cooking at his house. Steve washed his clothes and wore them like his own. Billy took Steve’s car keys and drove for the first time with Steve practically hostage all the way to the tree farm.

“I didn’t take you for a real tree kind of person.”

“You have the ceiling space for a nine-foot tree.”

“How the hell are we hauling a nine-foot tree?” Steve practically blanched. “And with what car?” He adjusted his earmuffs because he’d rather be caught dead than wear a proper hat. Billy, meanwhile, strolled through the greenery and the first snowflakes spitting from the sky with leisurely ease in his beanie.

He laughed, “I like how you’re not saying no.”

Steve didn’t do much to hide his mimicry as he trudged behind Billy, who chuckled to himself. “For once it actually smells nice. The trees really cover up the cow shit of—oh my god, there are actual cows.”

A line of tables displayed other living decorations like wreaths and garlands, but beyond them was a field of black and red cattle. Billy moved under a line of wreaths hanging over their heads to see how they actually had blankets on their backs. “Are the cow jackets norm—”

Steve caught his mouth in a quick, firm kiss. The sound of their lips parting echoed in Billy’s ears. Steve’s fingers lifted off his jaw to touch something noisy above their heads. Billy dumbly looked up to see the tiny bells interwoven with a mistletoe wreath. “Careful. We have real mistletoe here. Not whatever plastic California has.”

He left Billy stupefied, having the audacity to stroll away with a whistle on his lips before Billy snapped out of it and nearly tackled him. “OW! Agh, fu-shit, Jesus—”

“You’re better about planting your feet,” Billy breathed against Steve’s earmuff. He held Steve’s arms trapped against his body.

“Are you always this mean when someone kisses you?” he strained in Billy’s tight grip. The gravel under their boots grit and rattled as Billy dragged Steve deeper into the trees. “Alright! I should’ve asked! I’m sorry—”

Steve might’ve stolen the first kiss, but Billy shoved him into a tree and took it back. He took Steve’s cold shock against his lips, until hot breath warmed them up between nervous stares. Then Billy took his lips, his tongue, the taste of the mint brownies Steve ate on the way here. The cold tip of Steve’s nose pushed into his cheek, and Billy’s heart felt fragile against the softness of Steve’s mouth.

His breath trembled as he asked, “Why did you do that?”

Why do you give me rides? Give me food? Why do you cook every night? Why did you give me a bedroom? Will you let me into yours?

Steve’s arms around his waist moved, tightening a little but also moving up Billy’s spine as if to comfort him. To anchor them together. Steve swallowed, and the fragility in his eyes made Billy’s throat hurt. “I didn’t get to the first time.”

Billy couldn’t stand it. He pushed Steve’s earmuffs off in his effort to press his face against Steve’s neck. To absorb the delicious little sound that escaped him when Billy’s cold nose found the warm pocket inside his collar.

Billy didn’t think he’d be able to kiss anyone ever again.

Not after…

But all he wanted was to keep Steve’s lips on him. To steal him away like some fairytale winter troll and either keep him or devour him if he tried to leave.

“Billy?” His name was muffled against his own scarf, so tightly did Steve hold onto him.

But if Steve was taking…maybe Billy could let himself be stolen again.

“When we’re home…” he sniffled on his way back up to standing on his own. “Kiss me again.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

Billy laughed through his tears. “No, you’re buying me the biggest tree your car can carry. And I’ll steal that wreath while they’re distracted.”

“You have the money to buy it!”

“That’s no fun.”

#harringrove #pondermoniums #stolen #ficlet #one shot #holiday fluff #snowy kisses #post s3 #billy hargrove #steve harrington

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ghostspideys-moved · 4 years

Text

chasing visions of our futures: chapter one

a/n: I haven’t given up on my other oc fic, I’m just taking a little break, and I had lots of ideas as of lately for this one, so hopefully people still enjoy this as well.

word count: 1.5k

pairing: barry allen x oc

summary: River Matthews decides to cause some chaos in Central City, mostly for fun, but also for the attention she knows she’ll get from The Flash. When he catches her, and she gets a second chance, she has to decide whether she should take it or if there’s no changing for her. There’s a lot more to her the more Barry tries to dig, and the more he does, the more River’s afraid he won’t like what he finds out.

chapter summary: River causes some chaos in Central City, and so close to the holidays. But she may have given herself too much credit in thinking she could escape the Flash.

With the holiday season already in motion, plenty of people were scrambling to pick up last minute presents here and there. River could practically feel the stress and anxiety buzzing in the air. Central City surely didn’t take the holidays lightly.

A number of stores were open later to accommodate all the frantic last minute shopping everyone was doing. For as cheerful as the holidays were supposed to be, the intense emotion and rushed thoughts as people hurried from one store to another hit River like an oncoming train. But by now, she was used to it. She’d need to focus anyways if she was going to go through with her plan.

Tuning out all of the noise that came with hearing people’s every thought, she made her way into a nearby toy store. Naturally, the store was decorated as far as the eye could see. There was no escaping the mass amounts of tinsel and paper snowflakes.

As a kid, she might have loved the flashy displays, but after all this time, it mostly felt bittersweet. What she definitely didn’t love was the crowd of people frantically searching the store, hoping to find whatever it is their children desired. It was that much harder keeping her powers in check with so many of them, but she tried her best to push through it.

Though it might seem a childish plan in nature, River weaved her way past people, using whatever powers she could muster to mess with the toys in just about every aisle. She watched on with something that might have resembled joy as toys came to life, marching off of shelves and attacking people. Of course, it didn’t take long for people to realize and run towards the entrance, screaming and clattering over each other to escape. There were little plastic robots chasing after people, toy monkeys attacking shoppers with their symbols, demonic-looking dolls biting at people like something out of a horror movie, you name it.

River couldn’t help the laugh that escaped as she watched the chaos. All it had taken was a few little toys and everyone was running off in horror. It was kind of pathetic, the way she saw it, but that was what she’d been hoping for.

And, as she’d expected, the Flash was quick to show up to the scene as the last wave of shopper passed by him. River, not wanting to get caught for obvious reasons, made a run for it.

Of course, she wasn’t stupid. She knew she couldn’t outrun a speedster. But River had the upper hand as far as she knew. Without hesitation, she ran through the aisles, her body completely passing through the shelves as though they weren’t even there at all. The Flash was already after her, though she briefly saw him pause, probably confused to see her moving through things like a ghost. But whatever the case, he was shaken out of it rather quickly, and to River’s dismay, he could do exactly the same thing, and he was fast. There was no winning this, was there?

Before she knew it, the Flash caught up to her and slapped a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. River tried to phase through them, but it didn’t work. That hadn’t ever happened before, and she felt a slight panic settle in her chest.

“Good luck getting out of power dampening cuffs,” Flash said, a knowing grin on his face.

Not River’s finest moment, but she supposed this was on her for even thinking this would go well for this time. She’d had several run-ins with him this week, but maybe she’d just gotten sloppy and overconfident this time.

As pained as she was to be caught, River didn’t really put up a fight on their way to S.T.A.R. Labs. There was no point. Even worse was being locked away in a cell that was made to counteract her powers.

“Bringing toys to life in the middle of a store? Kind of tacky and cartoonish, don’t you think?” The guy in charge of locking her up - Cisco, she was sure she’d heard Flash call him in passing - was getting on her nerves just a bit. “Not very talkative, are you?”

“Not to people locking me in...whatever this is.”

“It’s called the Pipeline, for your information,” Cisco explained. “And you’re not getting out, so I wouldn’t try if I were you.”

If he wasn’t standing on the other side of the glass, River might have done something to shut him up, but she couldn’t. For a brief moment, she was relieved to see the Flash return. At least she could tolerate him better.

“You know, after three days of trying to stop you, you made it surprisingly easy this time,” he said.

River sat down, leaning against the cell wall. “Not on purpose. I let my victories get to my head, and here we are.”

“Well, it was harder with barely any way to track you. You know, there isn’t a single record of you anywhere past eight years old? Why is that?”

Sure, River was locked up and unable to escape, but she wasn’t going to give in so easily. “Does it matter? You caught me.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, and she couldn’t blame him truthfully. Over the past few days, she’d learned she couldn’t read his mind, or any speedsters. They thought way too fast for her to comprehend. But she could tell he had a curious nature to some degree. And his next onslaught of questions sold that for her.

“Well, as far as we know, you’re not a metahuman. Doesn’t seem like you were here during the particle accelerator explosion. So how’d you do that? With the toys?”

“Magic.” There wasn’t the slightest bit of teasing in her voice, but they didn’t seem to believe her.

“Magic’s not real, so nice try,” Cisco said.

“It’s just as real as Santa Claus.”

The Flash and Cisco shared a look of confusion as they turned to one another. “I’m sorry, do you think Santa is real?” Cisco asked.

River looked up at them, wondering what the hell they were so surprised for. “Yeah? Doesn’t everyone? Isn’t that like the whole point?”

“Oh my god,” Flash said under his breath. “You dropped off the face of the Earth when you were eight, and no one told you since then?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? The last time I celebrated anything was with my mom and my brother before I disappeared, and that was Hanukkah when I was eight. So, yeah.”

It was then that River realized that was already too much information. It wasn’t on purpose, though. It just came out.

“Where did you even go when you disappeared?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Cisco snorted. “We’ve seen a lot of weird shit. Try us.”

River hesitated for a moment. They’d probably just think she was crazy. “I went to Hell, that’s where.” They both seemed less surprised than she’d expected.

“What did you do to deserve getting sent there?” Flash asked. “Especially as a kid?” “I’ve really already told you too much,” she said, wrapping her arms around her knees. “You also didn’t look all that shocked.”

“We have some friends who deal with that kind of thing.”

River raised an eyebrow. “And yet you still don’t believe in magic.” “Magic is just science we haven’t figured out yet.”

She couldn’t help snorting. “Yeah, alright. Are we done now?” For a moment, she thought they might let her be so she could wallow in her misery. But just as they were about to leave, the Flash seemed to have a sudden thought, like a light bulb suddenly went off in his head. “We know this guy - a friend of ours who helps us sometimes. Half-demon, surprisingly nice, really into plants. His name’s Hawthorne. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?”

At first, River was ready to dismiss it, but they’d perfectly described her brother. Though she hadn’t seen him since she disappeared, she’d kept tabs on him, whether he knew it or not. Mostly out of curiosity.

“Maybe.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted her brother involved in this. She could only imagine how disappointed he might be in her.

“Will you just give us one second?” Cisco dragged him away, presumably to discuss whatever it was they were thinking. She couldn’t make out anything under the hushed voices, unfortunately. Before long, they wrapped it up and turned to her again.

“Right, well, we will be back with something for you to eat, because we aren’t monsters, and then we’ll figure out what to do with you in the meantime,” Cisco said, clapping his hands together. “So just sit tight.”

Already, River wasn’t liking this at all. But there wasn’t much she could do about whatever they decided to do, so she did exactly that and tried not to die of boredom in her cell. True to their word, Cisco came back with something for her to eat in the meantime.

By the time the Pipeline door opened again, Hawthorne was standing on the other side with the Flash, and he looked very surprised to see her. He must have been expecting anyone else but her.

“I’m sorry, what is my sister doing here?” Hawthorne asked, turning to Flash. “Barry, you didn’t tell me I was dealing with my sister.”

“I didn’t know!”

River stood finally, crossing her arms. “Nice seeing you again, Thorny.” The look on his face was priceless, and she never wanted to forget how equally terrified and confused he looked. “Surprised to see me?”

#barry allen #the flash #the flash cw #barry allen x reader #barry allen x original character #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #the flash imagine #the flash x oc #the flash x original character

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no6secretsanta · 3 years

Text

The Sound we Heard That Day

To: @hi-im-secretly-satan

From: Signpainter1 (AO3)

The Sound We Heard That Day

“Hey Sion, what about this?”

Sion turned and surveyed the hat that his friend Lauren was holding. It was navy blue and woolly, with small smiling waving snowmen on it. It was definitely something Sion would buy for himself, though for Nezumi….

Sion giggle as he pictured Nezumi scowling from underneath it. “He would hate it.”

Lauran put the hat back, a frown on her face. “You weren’t kidding when you said he was hard to shop for. I can see why you wanted to meet early.” Sion made a sound of agreement. Lauran went back to surveying the items on a shelf. Sion joined her. He was glad he wasn’t shopping for Nezumi alone. After moving to No. 5 almost a year ago, Sion had become close friends with Lauran and her boyfriend Ted. Nezumi didn’t care much about them, but he was pleasant enough in their company.

Four years previous, when Nezumi had materialized at their doorstep on Christmas Eve during a blizzard, Sion wasn’t sure what to expect from their relationship. He was extremely happy to see Nezumi again could shake the feeling that it wasn’t permanent. Even now, two years later, he would sometimes dream of Nezumi leaving him again.

“What else does Nezumi like?” Lauran’s voice brought Sion back to reality.

“Hmmm….” Sion’s mind ran over some ideas before he gave a sigh of defeat. “you know what? I think I’ll just get him a book after all. I wanted to get him something special, but I don’t want him to hate his gift. This is our first Christmas here and I want it to be perfect.”

“There’s a bookstore near the food court. We can go there.” Lauren glanced at her watch “But we better hurry. We said we’d meet up with our boyfriends at 6:30 and it’s already 6:15.”

Sion blushed. “Nezumi isn’t really my boyfriend.”

“But you two are romantically involved right?”

“Kind of…” Sion shrugged. “It’s complicated.” When the mood was right, they would cuddle and Nezumi made it clear he was interested in Sion. Even so, they hadn’t gone farther than that. Nezumi hadn’t kissed Sion since that Christmas after he had returned.”

Lauren, noticing Sion’s discomfort quickly said. “Well, in any case, we need to hurry.”

“Yeah, ok.”

They headed out of the small store and down the crowded hall of the indoor mall. The place was decorated for Christmas and cheerful music was playing over the intercom. The whole scene put Sion in a good mood. As they turned down another hall a jingle started playing from the intercoms. Sion paused at the sound.

Good afternoon shoppers. We thank you for choosing No. 5 Central Mall for your shopping needs. In the next ten minutes, we will be testing the new fire alarms. Please excuse any inconvenience this may cause.

The jingle played again, and Sion’s cocked his head in confusion.

“I’ve heard that jingle before. It used to play in No. 6 when general announcements were made.” It felt weird to hear it after all these years. After rebuilding No.6 the jingle was put out of use since it caused trauma. During the Holy Day, that jingle was played right before the chaos began. Sion may not have such a visceral reaction to it, but it still made him feel uncomfortable.

“That’s not surprising.” Lauran shrugged. “They tend to reuse stock sounds like that between all the cities. I grew up in No.3 and that jingle was used at schools when classes started and ended.”

“I see.” Sion mulled this over. “That makes sense.” It made him feel a little better to know that. “Right let’s go shopping!”

Picking a book wasn’t hard. Sion had basically memorized Nezumi’s whole library. It was one of the benefits of having a photographic memory. Sion knew what books Nezumi wanted and what books he already owned. He was in a very good mood as they left the book store to head towards the food court to meet Nezumi and Ted. As they started down the hall, the lights started flashing and the jingle started up again.

Good afternoon shoppers. We thank you for choosing No. 5 Central Mall for your shopping needs. We will now be testing the new fire alarms. We’re are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.

As the voice died down another sound fill the halls. A high pitch alarm wailed in beat to the flashing lights. Some kids covered their ears and a little girl started crying, but most of the shoppers just ignored it. Lauran seemed unperturbed by the sound. Sion however felt his stomach clench. He knew that sound. It haunted him through many of his nightmares. The last time he heard it he was 16 years old. Sion slowed down until he stopped completely starting off into space.

“Sion?” Laura’s voice sounded far away, as if she was on the other side of a long tunnel. She had stopped as well and was watching him concernedly. Sion wanted to respond to her, but he couldn’t speak. He was no longer in the mall listening to a fire alarm, he was in the Correction Facility. As the sound penetrate his brain, adrenaline and fear shot through him. The alarm was going off. They knew an intruder was in the facility. Safu was dead. He and Nezumi were in danger.

Sion’s legs shook as he desperately tried to reason with himself. It wasn’t the Correction Facility it was a mall. The sound was probably just being reused, just like the jingle. It didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t there again. He was safe. He was safe. He was safe.

His mind didn’t listen. A loud buzzing was slowly spreading across his brain, blocking rational thought. Sion staggered to the side of the hallway, trembling like a leaf. The sound was consuming him, dragging him back to that horrible day when he had lost himself in the depths of hell. He leaned against the wall as the coldness continued to spread everywhere but his stomach, which was on fire. Sion tried to take a deep breath, but it was hard. His lungs didn’t want to expand in the stale air that surrounded him.

“Sion!” It was getting harder to hear Lauran’s voice. The other sounds were overpowering it. The sound of the shoppers, the fire alarm….

The gunshots, the screaming, the dying.

Sion’s eyes widened in fright. There were corpses on the ground. Men and women who were dragged to the Correction Facility now lay in a pile in front of him. Sion could still make out some of their faces. He could still remember some of them. Sion gasped for air as the smell of blood and decay hit him. Staggering forward he took off running.

“They aren’t there. They aren’t real.” The words made no impact on his mind. As his own senses continued to betray him, more images and feelings arose. Now all he could smell was rot and blood; all he could taste was stale air and copper; all he could feel was weariness and pain.

“Hey watch it!” Sion had run into someone. He couldn’t tell if they were a shopper or a guard. Sion staggered back and covered his face. If he had hoped to find comfort in the darkness, he was wrong. Safu’s sad smile loomed out from the depths of nothingness. She was alone. Sion had failed her. He had let her die. He couldn’t do anything.

A wave of despair hit him. Why did he even come here? Why did he foolishly think he could save Safu? He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t save all those innocent people. He couldn’t give a dying man a peaceful way out. He couldn’t even save the one person he came for. Pathetic. Weak. Sheltered.

A hand landed on Sion’s shoulder and he gave a cry of fear. Turning around he saw the terrified face of the man who he had killed. Sion’s stomach turned violently as renewed fear shot up his spin. That man couldn’t be here. He was dead.

“I didn’t have a choice.” Sion wasn’t sure if he was speaking aloud or in his head. The two realities were colliding using the alarm as a bridge. “You were going to shoot Nezumi! I didn’t have a choice!”

“What are you talking about?” The man had a female voice. Sion dully realized it was Lauran. “Who was going to shoot Nezumi? Sion, what’s going on?” Sion ignored her. He had just realized something horrible.

Nezumi wasn’t with him.

Where was Nezumi? Nezumi was always by his side in the Correction Facility. Even in Sion’s worst nightmares, Nezumi was present. He needed him now. He needed to see Nezumi’s uncaring smirk and deep grey eyes. He needed to hear his smooth voice. It was the only thing that could fix this. Nezumi was the only reason he was able to continue moving in the Correction Facility, even when he wanted to curl up and die.

Without another word, Sion took off running again. His confused mind tried to apply the map of the Facility that he memorized to his current location. It didn’t match up. Of course it didn’t. This wasn’t the Correction Facility. Sion gave an angry sob as he ran harder, pushing people out the way. Memories chased after him, pouring into his head.

Nezumi was crying and apologizing. Sion had killed someone and Nezumi blamed himself. It was the first time Nezumi had cried. It was the first time Nezumi had broken. No.6 couldn’t break Nezumi. The Correction Facility couldn’t break Nezumi. Sion could break Nezumi.

Then he was in the elevator. Nezumi had dragged Sion away from Safu. He had blown the place up. He had freed Safu from her imprisonment. He did what needed to be done to spare Sion the pain of that horrible choice. Even so, Sion had blamed him. He was such a child. He was so spoiled.

Finally, he saw Nezumi lying on the ground in front of him. Blood was pouring from his wound. Despite Sion’s rage towards him, Nezumi had protected him. Now he was laying on the ground gasping and writhing in pain. Sion knew he was suffering, fading.

“No!” Sion cried out, his eyes blurring from tears. He needed to get to Nezumi. He needed to save him. He had helped him once before. He could do it again. He needed Nezumi to be alright. He needed Nezumi. Nezumi needed him.

“If he needed you so badly then why did he leave you.”

The words washed Sion like a wave of cold water. He slowed down and stopped in the middle of the hall, lost and confused. Where was he? What did he do? Why did Nezumi leave? Gunshots rang out. Angry shoppers bumped into him and told him to move. Nezumi was singing in the cramped vehicle heading to the Facility. A girl was asking her mom for a doll in a display. The air smelled of spices from a nearby store. The air smelled of putrid gasses and death. He was at the mall. He was at the Correction Facility.

And Sion was alone.

He bent over and covered his ears. He needed to block it all out. He needed to be stronger this time. He couldn’t rely on Nezumi. He was alone again. That was why Nezumi left him. Sion had become too much of a burden. If Sion was stronger, braver, smarter, wise, more talented, Nezumi wouldn’t have walked away. A small part of his mind whispered that it wasn’t truer, but he could hardly hear it over the chaos.

Sion sobbed loudly crying out for Nezumi. He didn’t want to be in the Correction Facility anymore. He didn’t want Safu to die. He didn’t want to kill that man. He didn’t want Nezumi to leave him. He couldn’t do it all again. It was too much, too tiring. It had been unbearable. The four years without Nezumi had also been unbearable. After the horrors of the Holy Day, his world became grey. He couldn’t enjoy life. He couldn’t smile as he used to. The thought of going back to waking from nightmares alone was terrifying. He didn’t want to cry himself to sleep again wondering if it was all his fault that Nezumi had left. Even after Nezumi had returned and added color to his life, Sion never confronted him about his fears. It was easier to pretend Nezumi never left. It hurt less. Now he regretted it. He needed some closure.

“Nezumi.” Sion wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep forever. If real Nezumi wasn’t going to appear then perhaps a dream version would show up. Some version of Nezumi always came to him. Nezumi was always there when he was in danger. He always saved him.

“Please save me. Please come back. Please come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Sion!”

Sion opened his eyes groggily and uncovered his ears. His prayers had been answered. Nezumi was kneeling in front of him, pale and frightened. His eyes held the deep fear that Sion felt. Sion wanted to cry out in joy. Nezumi had come for him. He didn’t leave him to go mad in the Correction Facility. He didn’t leave him to grow old alone in No. 6.

“Is he alright?” another voice asked. It sounded like a man’s. Sion knew he should recognize it, but he couldn’t think who it belonged to.

“I don’t know.” A woman’s voice spoke. “He just started freaking out. Nezumi what’s wrong with him?” Nezumi ignored them, his eyes on Sion alone. Sion reach forward and touched his shoulder.

“Are you really here?” Sion wasn’t sure why the ground was shaking so hard. It made it difficult to keep his hand steady.

Nezumi’s eyes softened sadly as he gently took Sion’s outstretched hand. “Yeah, I’m here. We’re going to leave. Just hang on, ok?”

Sion nodded mutely as he allowed Nezumi to guide him away. Nezumi understood what was going on. He understood that they needed to escape the horrible alarm in the mall. They needed to escape the horrible alarm in the Correction Facility. The shoppers didn’t understand. Lauren didn’t understand but Nezumi did. He was there. He was always there.….

No that wasn’t quite right either, Nezumi left him after they escaped.

A new wave of fear crashed over Sion. “Nezumi.” Sion clung to his arm. “Don’t leave, please. I’m sorry. I won’t be useless anymore. I won’t push problems onto you.” Nezumi filched his words.

“Don’t.” He looked away. “That’s not why….I won’t leave you again.”

“But if we escape…” Sion dug his fingers into Nezumi’s sleeve. “Once we’re safe….”

Nezumi turned towards him his eyes aflame. He grabbed both of Sion’s shoulders and looked into his face. “Once we’re safe we’re going home together. I’m here Sion. I came back. Don’t forget, I came back.”

“You mean it?” Sion stared into his eyes, his mind working sluggishly slow. He felt like a child, vulnerable, and afraid. “You’ll stay even if I’m a burden? Even though I killed someone?”

“What?” apparently the man and woman had followed them. “Nezumi what’s he talking about?” Nezumi glared over at the couple before putting a protective arm around Sion.

“I will explain later. You two go doing something. I’m taking Sion home.” His voice has a finality to it that was so familiar that Sion almost felt comforted. The woman opened her mouth to argue but Nezumi had already turned and dragged Sion down the hall. Sion stumbled as they melted into the crowd, the couple’s cries of protest mingling with the sound of screams and gunshots.

Sion managed to make it all the way outside to the parking lot before his legs gave out. He was too tired to move. He couldn’t do this anymore. He’d rather just disappear than have to struggle forward. In the distance, he could still hear the horrible fire alarm ringing from the nearby mall.

“Nezumi I can’t do it. It’s just too much. I can’t keep fighting.” He bowed his head in shame. He didn’t want to see the look of disgust and disappointment on Nezumi’s face. He didn’t want to see the flash of anger in Nezumi’s eyes. He had failed him again by being weak, just like he had failed everyone else.

Nezumi bent down next to him and attempted to pull him up. He managed to half drag, half carry Sion to a secluded corner a few feet away. When they were out of sight from prying eyes, he curled his body around Sion and pressed him to his chest.

“Sion. What do you feel?”

“Your heart,” Sion mumbled.

“That’ right. I’m here. I’m not going to leave you. Relax and listen to me. Ignore the world. Just listen to my voice.” Sion pressed into Nezumi’s chest as if it was a shelter from the onslaught of thoughts that invaded his mind. As he got comfortable Nezumi started singing; his voice silky smooth and pleasant to hear.

The summertime is coming,

And the trees are sweetly blooming,

Nezumi’s voice was soft and sweet. It filled Sion’s head and pushed away all other feelings. Soon the smells and taste of blood began to disappear followed by the feeling of horror and fear. Lastly, the sound of gunshots and that horrible alarm faded to a faint echo.

And the wild mountain thyme

Grows around the blooming heather.

Sion closed his eyes as he took a shaky breath. He listened to Nezumi’s heart, beating rhythmically to the song. Nezumi was a song. He was the comfort that could soothe a dying soul. He was the comfort that could save Sion from his own mind.

Will you go, will you go?

And we’ll all go together,

Sion didn’t know when he started breathing normally. He didn’t know when he had stopped clinging so tightly to Nezumi’s shirt. He didn’t know when the alarm had stopped wailing. All he knew was that he was with Nezumi. Everything would be alright.

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the blooming heather,

Will you go?

Sion blinked as Nezumi finished his song. After all the sounds that clouded his mind, the silence was defining. It wasn’t unpleasant though. The silence meant safety. It was the kind of silence he heard when it was just him and Nezumi living in the West District.

“Are you alright?” Nezumi pulled away from Sion a little to look into his face. Sion shivered in the sudden cold. He hadn’t noticed it before when he was lost in his own memories, nor when he was curled into Nezumi’s chest.

“I’m fine.” Sion’s own voice sounded false and hoarse from all the crying. Nezumi peered at him and Sion turned away. He couldn’t look Nezumi in the eyes. Now that it was all over, he felt stupid. Of course, everything was alright. It was just a dumb alarm. He had overreacted.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Nezumi turned Sion’s head so they made eye contact. “What happened in that place was traumatizing. That sound brought back unpleasant memories. You acted like most people would act if they had to go through that hell.”

“But you were at the Correction Facility too! You heard the same sound as me, yet you’re fine and I’m just a mess!”

“That’s only because I’ve learned how to close myself off when I’m reliving the past. If I broke down every time it became too much I would have died as a child.” Nezumi let out a slow breath. It turned white in the frosty air. “Trust me, I felt like I was in the Correction Facility too….I was afraid….I was afraid I was going to lose you.” Nezumi’s voice filled with sorrow. “I brought you to hell and you broke. I should have known better. You weren’t ready.”

“No.” Sion shook his head feverishly. “I was the one who was weak-.”

“You weren’t weak.” Nezumi cut him off sharply. “You were strong. You were able to hold on to your humanity for so long in that place. That was truly amazing.”

“But I eventually broke. I shot a man. I blamed you.” Sion felt panic weld inside of him. Nezumi must have noticed because he gently lay a finger across his lips.

“Don’t, not now. We can talk about this later but now is not the time. You need to concentrate on the present, not dwell on the past.” Sion nodded and Nezumi dropped his hand.

“Can you teach me to close myself off from my own feelings?” Sion was trembling again. He couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or the cold. “I don’t want to react like that ever again.”

“No.” Nezumi shook his head fiercely. “You don’t want to do that. Trust me, suppression isn’t going to make it go away. It’ll just sit in your mind and you’ll obsess over it. You need to learn to accept and overcome it.”

“How do I do that?” Sion asked meekly. Nezumi hesitated.

“I don’t know.” His grew eyes grew heavy with sadness. “I never needed to do anything more than survive. I don’t know really know how to live with my own past.”

They were quiet for a few minutes. “What should we do?”

“We’ll figure it out together.” Nezumi gave Sion’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Sion attempted a weak smile. It must have been pretty bad because Nezumi laughed quietly.

“You look like someone just kicked you in the stomach.” Nezumi snorted. “If you can’t smile yet then don’t. With your current expression, someone’s going to think I’m mugging you.”

For the first time since the alarm, Sion laughed. It was a weak sound but at least it was genuine. Nezumi smiled reassuringly and let go of Sion’s hand as he started to get up. Sion’s mind went into a panic and he grabbed Nezumi’s arm.

“Don’t go!”

“I already told you I wasn’t going to.” Nezumi sounded sad and slightly annoyed. “Is that really so hard for you to believe?”

Sion looked away. “I never told you this, because I wanted to forget it myself but after you left life was really hard. I suffered a lot from nightmares about everything that happened….I tried to distract myself by rebuilding No. 6 but once a new mayor was elected, I had nothing to do. I thought I was going mad. I would dwell on past events and couldn’t get it out of my mind. I couldn’t help blaming myself…I felt that it was my fault that you left….” It felt shameful to admit it out loud. Perhaps he was every bit as spoiled as Nezumi always said he was. Sion wouldn’t be surprised if Nezumi scoffed at him. He didn’t. Instead, Nezumi grabbed Sion’s arms tightly and said in a stern voice.

“No Sion. Listen to me. Do NOT blame yourself. It was….” he looked away. “My fault. I handled it badly back there. I thought I could outrun everything, even you.” He lowered his head slightly. “I know I act as if I have everything sorted out, but I don’t. I was afraid and shaken after what happened. I fell back on the only thing I knew to do. I distanced myself from the problem, cutting off all emotional connections. I distanced myself from you….I blamed myself for what happened to do you in there. I felt as if I had lost you or never really knew you. I was afraid.” Sion listened to his words carefully. He knew this was hard for Nezumi and he wouldn’t repeat it.

Emotions swelled in Sion’s chest. Now with all their feelings out in the open, it felt like a weight was lifted from Sion. The darkness that lurked in the back of his mind recited slightly and that lingering doubt grew smaller. It was nice to get some closure after all those years of worrying and stressing. He felt light and free, almost glitter.

“Nezumi.” He couldn’t put into words what he was feeling. He wished he had read more. Maybe then he could spout some epic poetry about the overwhelming feelings that were swelling inside of him. Nezumi was here to stay. Nezumi would continue being by his side. At that moment Sion wanted Nezumi more than ever. Passion replaced anxiety and Sion wanted to hold Nezumi close, to snuggle with him, to kiss him. The cold forgotten Sion leaned in.

“Can you kiss me?”

Nezumi stared at him. “How did you come to that conclusion.”

Sion blushed. “No…I just mean…never mind.” It was stupid. He didn’t even know why he brought it up. His emotions had gotten the better of him.

“You want another promise kiss?” Nezumi asked.

“No.” Sion tried to sort his thoughts. “I don’t want the kiss to have any meaning.”

“All kisses have meanings, Sion.”

“Well, I want this one to not mean anything. It’s not a promise. It’s not a way to make sure you’ll stay with me or that nothing bad will happen again. I want to kiss you because you’re you…”

Nezumi surveyed him for a moment before smiling cockily. “My oh, are you hitting on me?”

“No!” Sion blushed “I just-” the rest of his sentence was cut off by Nezumi’s lips. It pressed against his own, transferring all his love and caring into Sion. Sion sighed happily, closing his eyes. The taste of Nezumi overpowered any lingering memories of the taste of blood and stale air. The sound of Nezumi’s heartbeat replaced the lingering memories of screaming and gunshots. The sight of Nezumi so close erased the bodies and men with guns. The feeling of Nezumi pressed against him replaced the coldness and pain. All too soon however Nezumi pulled away. Sion stared at him dazed.

“Nezumi what are we?” Since they were getting everything else out the way he might as well ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean are we dating? I know you don’t like labels…”

Nezumi frowned thoughtfully. “Sure.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t really change anything but if it helps you understand that I’m here to stay then let’s go with that.”

“So we’re boyfriends now?” Sion’s eyes lit up excitedly. Nezumi rolled his eyes and flicked Sion’s nose.

“Yep, now enough heart to heart. Let’s get home. We can watch one of those stupid romance movies you like so much.

“They’re not stupid!” Sion gasped. “They are sweet! Who doesn’t like watching people fall in love? You read romance stories.”

“I read classics.” Nezumi corrected. Not vapid chick flicks.”

“Fine if that’s how you feel, then let’s watch something else,” Sion grumbled.

“No way.” Nezumi shook his head. “You need something that comforts you. These movies are as far as one can get from reality.

A grin started spreading on Sion’s face. “Ok but I get to choose the movie.”

“I’m regretting this already,” Nezumi said dryly helping Sion to the car.

“Oh come on, you might like it!”

“I also might like eating tacks.” Nezumi rolled his eyes again. “Now buckle your seatbelt. The temperature is dropping fast and it’s cold.”

“Maybe it’ll snow.” Even as Sion said this a few snowflakes drifted down from the sky. He smiled as Nezumi closed the door and got into the driver seat. It was going to take a while but eventually, these memories would fade. Perhaps then, he would stop dreaming of Nezumi leaving him. As they pulled out of the mall parking lot, the snow picked up and drifted lazily down upon their warm car, silently and peacefully.

#no6secretsanta #no6 #no.6 #no. 6 #no 6 #nezushi #fanfiction #signpainter1 #hi im secretly satan #hi-im-secretly-satan #submission

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

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Prompt: for your christmas prompt thing: someone is so wrapped up with christmas shopping, they don't even realize how sick they are (or that they're sick at all) and end up passing out in the store. may or may not end in meet cute where person b is the one who swooped in to see if they're ok

Since a few people have requested Kylux.

Obviously modern AU, and for once in my life, I’m going to target Kylo, lol

Kylo never meant to procrastinate. Finals came up, and as a junior in college with a full course load in a poor attempt to hopefully make his senior year go by in an easy breeze, he hasn’t had time to Christmas shop. To make matters worse, he hasn’t thought about it at all. He completely forgot it was even December until Rey texted him on the 23rd that she couldn’t wait for everyone to get together and exchange gifts.

Online shopping is out of the question, so Kylo drives himself to the mall. It’s cold outside, and it’s been snowing steadily for a few days now, but he can’t help but feel rather warm.

He leaves his coat in his car and tugs at his collar as he walks in the middle of a a mass of shoppers toward the entrance. Beads of sweat are clinging to his forehead, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand.

He’s immediately overwhelmed the second he walks into the mall, and as flurries of shoppers whip past him, he finds himself growing breathless. His chest is burning, and his throat feels uncomfortably dry. He’s never been much of a people person, so he’s not surprised his anxiety is spiking.

He sighs out a puff of hot hair and lightly massages his temples. His head is pounding, but it’s insanely loud in the mall. Loud and crowded, and he feels a little light-headed, but he powers forward, running through the mental check list in his head of what to get everyone.

He has everyone down except Finn-- he’s not even sure why he has to get a present for him. They aren’t friends necessarily, only really knowing each other through Rey, but Rey mentioned something about Finn getting him something, so now he’s tied down by obligation.

He walks into a record shop. He can knock out half his list in this one store thanks to family and friends with classic tastes. He maneuvers around people, constantly muttering “excuse me” or “I’m sorry” as he utilizes his height and long limbs to reach around shoppers for what he’s looking for.

It’s unbearably hot in the store. He can feel sweat sliding down his neck, and his head is swimming in a sea of pulsing pain. There’s pressure behind his eyes, and his throat feels weird. He keeps clearing it despite the pain it brings, but it’s only getting worse.

Definitely anxiety, he tells himself when what feels like the hundredth person bumps into him. He makes a beeline for the check-out line, swaying slightly on his feet. The cashier shoots him a curious frown, and he waves it off with a forced smile as he grabs his bags after a good twenty minutes of waiting in line.

He staggers out of the store. His heart is pounding in his chest. Blood is rushing loudly in his ears, and he takes a moment to lean against the wall outside of the store. He runs a trembling hand through his hair, grimacing at how damp it is.

There’s a small coffee vendor across from him, and seeing the drinks being passed to customers has him stepping forward. He’ll ask for a water-- he just needs to sit and cool down for a few minutes. It’s been a while since he’s been around so many people. His anxiety is just--

His thoughts come to an abrupt stop when his vision blacks out for a second. He sways, blinking away the darkness, but the heat is becoming suffocating, and he can’t manage to breathe through the grayness covering him. His hands are shaking as bad as his knees, and he’s faintly aware of a few people stopping to stare at him before his legs give out just as everything around him goes black.

*****

“Here’s your tea, ma’am. I apologize for the wait.” Hux frowns. The customer he’s speaking to is more focused on something behind her. “Ma’am?”

“I think that young man is about to faint.” She takes the drink from Hux, distracted, and Hux follows her eyes to see Kylo from his anatomy and physiology class swaying on his feet.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy you’ve been thirsting after since the start of the semester?”

Hux doesn’t hear Phasma come up to his side, but he does hear the loud gasps, his included, when Kylo hits the ground with a loud thump. Silence follows-- it’s almost eerie considering how loud everything’s been all day.

“Oh shit,” Phasma curses as Hux pushes away from the counter, shoving past bystanders with aggravated grunts until he makes it to Kylo’s side. Panic sets in when he realizes that Kylo’s still not awake, and he drops to his knees beside him, patting his cheek with a sharp frown. His skin is burning-- Hux isn’t a doctor quite yet, but by feel alone, he can safely say Kylo’s running a fever well over 102 degrees Fahrenheit.

He shakes Kylo’s shoulder repeatedly until finally, Kylo slowly blinks open hazy eyes.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

Phasma’s suddenly at his side with her phone out. She looks as worried as he feels, but he shakes his head. “Can you get everyone to leave?”

“On it,” Phasma says before spinning around and shouting at the gaping bystanders.

Hux tunes her out easily, pulling all of his focus toward Kylo. “Hey,” he says softly, and when Kylo tries to sit up with a sharp wince, Hux braces an arm around Kylo’s shoulders. “Easy. You fainted.”

Kylo’s disoriented-- he can’t wrap his mind around a single thought. He feels like he’s moving underwater, and it takes far too long to supply a name to the very familiar face before him.

“Hux,” he croaks out.

“Well, good news is you probably aren’t concussed,” Hux starts, chasing the small swell of relief when Kylo muttered his name. “However, you’re burning up. Can you stand?”

Kylo sucks in a few, measured breaths. When he’s able to make out his surroundings a little more, he nods slowly, and Hux carefully helps him to his feet.

He leads Kylo to an unoccupied table close to the coffee stand and eases him onto the chair. “How are you doing?” he asks, eyeing Kylo’s heaving chest with furrowed brows.

“Dizzy,” Kylo mutters, dropping his burning face into hand and massaging his temples.

“Just hang tight,” Hux says, spinning on his heel. He starts toward the coffee stand, prepared to grab his things and a water for Kylo, but Phasma meets him halfway with his keys, coat, and a size large ice water.

“How is he?”

“Not so great,” Hux admits, raking slender fingers through his hair with a sigh. “But I do know that he’s a fucking idiot for coming here while this sick.” He takes his things with a small shake of the head. “Can you cover me?”

“Of course.” Phasma winks, and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be tempted to take advantage of him in this state.”

“Don’t be so inappropriate,” Hux fires back before spinning sharply on his heel.

Kylo’s still upright when he gets back to the table, and he seems a bit more lucid. He sits the cup of water in front of Kylo, nodding to it silently as he takes the seat across from Kylo.

For a few minutes, Kylo only sips slowly at the water. His mind is a little clearer, and he’s able to fully assess how fucked the entire situation is. And of course, Hux was the one to step up and help him-- Hux and his fucking lean stature and sharp angles, and narrow, studying eyes.

He sighs deeply. “I thought I was having an anxiety attack.”

“What?” Hux quirks his head to the side slightly, a frown playing at his lips, and Kylo won’t admit it out loud, but he can’t stand to see Hux upset.

“This,” he gestures weakly toward himself. “I felt kind of bad, but I thought it was just my anxiety acting up because of all the people and chaos.”

Hux’s briefly shoots him a borderline unreadable expression before he sighs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re easily sporting a fever over 102 degrees.”

“Yeah,” Kylo mumbles. “I can feel that now.” Pain is gnawing at his head, and he’s exhausted. His muscles are practically yearning to be in bed, and he still has a good twenty minute drive back to home.

“I appreciate your help,” he starts, wishing more than anything else to be out of this entire situation. “But, I should go.” He makes to get up, but gravity isn’t playing on his side because he’s toppling over before he can reach out to grab the table.

Instead of hitting the ground, he falls against Hux’s chest. “Fuck,” he mutters, face growing impossibly red. “I’m sorry--”

“--It’s fine,” Hux interrupts, and Kylo meets his sharp, worried eyes.

“I’ll drive you home. My car isn’t far, and we can cut through an employee entrance.”

“You don’t have to--”

“--you won’t make it back to your car in your current state. Just let me help you, Kylo.”

Kylo doesn’t argue-- Hux has always been one you can’t really argue with, but even if he was, Kylo wouldn’t know how to follow Hux calling him by his first name. They started calling each other by their last names when they first met in class because Kylo annoyed Hux and Hux found Kylo to be insufferable, and it just kind of stuck.

He can’t lie that the small sigh of his first name from Hux’s lips made his heart skip a beat, but he swallows back those feelings with a small nod. “Okay, thank you.”

“Lean on me, okay? You got lucky the first time, and I don’t want to ruin that track record by having you faint again and hit your head for real.”

The short walk to the employee entrance takes far longer than usual, but Hux doesn’t rush Kylo, and Kylo’s glad for it because is energy is waning. The second Hux opens the door and leads him outside, he sucks in a sharp shaking breath, pulling away from Hux to hug himself in a poor attempt to get warm.

Hux is halfway through pulling on his coat when he realizes Kylo’s shivering hard beside him in only a black, long-sleeve shirt.

“Where’s your coat?” Hux frowns. Kylo’s pallor has gone frighteningly pale, and he’s shaking hard from head to toe.

“My c-car,” Kylo chatters out, fingers digging into his arms. “F-fuck.”

Hux doesn’t hesitate to slip off his coat and drape it over Kylo’s shoulders, and like the dumb idiot Kylo is, he tries to protest.

“It’s f-fine. You’ll get cold--”

“--shut the fuck up, and put on the damn coat,” Hux spits out. The last thing he needs is Kylo passing out because his fever spiked while outside. “You need it more than me,” he adds, holding Kylo’s gaze with his own for an impossibly long minute.

By the time Kylo gives in and slips his arms through the coat sleeves, Hux is feeling chilled through, but he grits his teeth, grabs Kylo’s hand, and leads him the rest of the way to his car.

“Your freezing,” Kylo mutters as soon as Hux slips into the driver’s seat after helping Kylo into the passenger seat.

“I’m fine,” Hux spits out, pushing past his shaking voice as he starts the car and cranks up the heat. “I’m not the one running a nasty fever.” He pulls up the GPS on his phone. “Address?”

Kylo frowns at the small shiver that takes over Hux, but he rattles off his address around a few weak coughs. His throat is starting to burn, and he can’t stop shivering. He drops his head onto the window. The walk to Hux’s car really took everything out of him.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Hux cuts through Kylo’s haze with an uncharacteristically softer tone, and Kylo briefly lifts his head to meet Hux’s worried stare. “You’re going to be fine, so just try and stay awake until we can get you home.”

Easier said than done, Kylo thinks, but he nods, dropping his head back against the glass. “Thank you again,” he says, and Hux can here the sincerity cut through Kylo’s rough voice.

“You’re welcome,” he mutters, ignoring the flip of his heart as he pulls out of the parking lot.

#kylux #sickfic #whump #whumpfic #my writing #kylo ren #armitage hux #star wars #fanfic #sick character #prompt fill

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toddperrys · 4 years

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All I Want For Christmas

Kristoff helps Anna do some last-minute Christmas shopping for Elsa.

Read it on AO3 here!

It’s official, Kristoff thought as he scanned the line snaking around the Macy’s building, I hate Christmas shopping. He was bundled against the freezing weather in a heavy coat and hat, from under which he glared at the soccer moms with cheap mascara smeared haphazardly over their lashes and spray-tanned fingers topped with claw-like acrylic nails. Their children shouted and darted between the legs of innocent shoppers as the mothers stood by, more concerned with gossip regarding an actor’s recent affair.

“You think we can find everything?” Anna asked. She stood beside him, her eyes dancing with excitement. She was dressed in a long, magenta coat Elsa had given her as an early Christmas gift. Her auburn hair stood out against the dreary gray and brown of winter.

“I hope so,” Kristoff said. “God knows it’s bad enough trying to go to one store for last-minute gifts two days before Christmas.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you along. I just came up with the perfect present for Elsa last night and I had to get it,” Anna said.

Kristoff met her eyes, “You want to do something nice for your sister, of course I’m going to come help you.” He meant it. Despite the bitter taste Christmas-time corporate greed left in his mouth, he’d go to the ends of the Earth with a smile on his face if it meant making Anna happy.

“You’re so sweet,” Anna replied, grinning.

Before Kristoff could respond, the line suddenly lurched forward as the automatic doors opened and the crowd entered. Anna grabbed Kristoff’s hand as the crush shifted around them, their movements becoming quick and chaotic, threatening to pull them apart. Together, they pushed through the melee of shoppers towards the entrance hung with shining red tinsel.

Upon entering the store, they found themselves surrounded by racks of clothes, elaborately placed displays of kitchenware and appliances, meticulous shows of squashy couches stuffed with throw pillows, and walls of TV screens and computers, all decorated with enormous banners announcing “50% ENTIRE STORE! TODAY ONLY!”

Kristoff’s mind was momentarily erased by the overwhelming presentation. “What were we looking for again?” he asked. His head felt like it was spinning at a million miles an hour.

“An ice cream maker,” Anna said. “We used to make it all the time as kids. We haven’t done it in years, it’d be so fun!”

Kristoff nodded, “Then let’s start with the kitchen aisle.”

They wove through the maze of products, dodging shopping carts overflowing with merchandise and children screaming for toys to the chagrin of their parents. The kitchen aisle was towards the back of the store, composed of two rows of towering shelves leaning at dangerous angles. Kristoff thought it looked like a canyon if canyons were made of discounted blenders and patterned tupperware.

“It should be around here somewhere,” Anna muttered, scanning past a stock of ice cube trays.

Kristoff wandered a few steps ahead of her. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a cluster of popsicle makers, and beside them, a sign advertising ice cream makers. “I found it,” he said.

Anna rushed over and peeked at the display, but to her disappointment, it was empty. “Dammit!” she cursed. “Now what?”

“Let’s keep looking. Macy’s is too big and too money-hungry to run out of stock this close to Christmas,” Kristoff said.

Anna sighed, frustrated, “Where else would one be?”

“There were a bunch of displays at the front with kitchen appliances and stuff,” Kristoff suggested. “Why don’t we check there?”

Anna nodded and followed him back through the building until they reached where they had entered. They examined each display, occasionally pushing aside an oversized, glittering bow or inflatable reindeer in order to see the box hiding behind it.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as they searched with no success, until Kristoff saw it. Tucked behind a plastic Christmas tree among an oversized presentation of stuffed animals was an ice cream maker. He opened his mouth to tell Anna, but one of the soccer moms he’d seen earlier emerged from behind the display’s platform, and her eyes went right to the box.

Without warning, Kristoff charged forward. He watched as the woman’s talon-like fingers opened and stretched towards the ice cream maker, glittering as if she were a predator preparing to jump on prey. Before she could get to it, Kristoff lunged forward, snatching it from the display and nearly toppling an oversized teddy bear in the process.

“I got it!” he cried, turning to Anna and hoisting the box above his head.

“You did it!” She hurried over and lifted the box from his hands.

“Ready to check out?” he asked.

Anna turned her gaze to him, eyes beaming, “Let’s get out of here.”

They paid for the ice cream maker and loaded it into the trunk of their car. As soon as they settled themselves in their seats and Kristoff started the engine, Anna wasted no time in cranking up the heater.

“Thanks for going with me,” she said.

Kristoff shrugged, “It’s no problem. Mission accomplished.”

“I know,” Anna answered. “It’s just I know you hate Christmas shopping. You’d rather be at home with Sven by the fire.”

“That’s not quite true,” Kristoff said. Anna looked at him curiously and he smiled. “I’d rather be where you are, and if that’s sifting through the chaos at a Macy’s Christmas sale, then there’s no other place I’d choose.”

Anna smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kristoff replied. He leaned over and pecked her lips before shifting the car into drive and, with his heart feeling like it could leap from his chest, pulled out of the parking lot and towards home.

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cherryeol04 · 4 years

Text

Jolly Chaos

Genre: Humor, fluff, stupidity? Pairing: JacksonxOC, ChangbinxAidenxFelix Word Count: 2.9K Summary: While getting presents for Aiden’s boyfriend, Sabrina and Aiden get snowed in at the mall. At least there are some hot guys to occupy her time with. A/N: This is a crappy summary and doesn’t even begin to describe this story. lmao. I’m sorry.

“Stay indoors because a snowstorm is projected to hit the city by 4pm. You do not want to be out when it hits.”

The audio from the TV served as white noise as the two bodies in the house moved in sync within the kitchen. A balancing act of dancing around each other as they worked on their baked goods. Sabrina had only wanted to make cookies, but Aiden has insisted that they also make cupcakes because “icing them is fun”. What wasn’t fun, however, was the clean up at the end. And if there was one thing Sabrina had learned in her years of babysitting the Park son, it was that he didn’t clean up after himself. Somehow, he always managed to weasel his way out of cleaning duties. Aiden truly was an amazing kid.

“Six minutes until the cookies are done!” Sabrina called out as she dumped the mixing bowls into the sink to be cleaned later. Her gaze turned to Aiden who was hunched over his tray of cupcakes, a look of concentration creasing his brows - tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. It was actually kind of cute, the way he carefully moved his hand in a circle, creating the perfect icing swirl. He was oblivious to what she had just said, lost in his own world of decorating. It was picturesque, so Sabrina pulled out her phone and opened her camera, quickly snapping a few pictures of Aiden for “memories sake (read: blackmail)”.

Despite the camera noises and flash, the younger male remained unbothered. So Sabrina took the time to send the pictures to two different group chats. The first was with Aiden and his parents and she figured that they would appreciate some cute pictures of their son not causing trouble for once. The second group chat was one with a mixture of her friends and Aiden’s friends, which also included Aiden’s two boyfriends. In this chat, she only sent one of the pictures - the decent looking one, after all, she needed to keep at least one picture for blackmailing purposes. Glancing to the clock, Sabrina hummed and made her way back to the over to the oven to check on her cookies. A comfortable silence fell over them once more, broken only when Aiden finished his decorating and Sabrina had plated her 24 count tray of cookies.

“They look burnt.” Aiden complained and his nose scrunched up.

“You look burnt.” Sabrina retorted.

“That doesn’t make sense!” Aiden huffed with a shake of his head. “They smell good though. Good job.” A compliment in a way and it was certainly more than what Sabrina thought she was going to get. Not that Aiden was a rude or misbehaving teen. On the contrary, he was a well mannered and sweet young man. He honestly didn’t need a babysitter at his ripe old age of 17, but Aiden did have a tendency to be a bit dense and clumsy at times. If not for his last attempt of cooking unsupervised that led to the kitchen nearly burnt to the ground, his parents wouldn’t have insisted on having someone to watch him. But it couldn’t be helped and it was better to have someone with better common sense around to make sure Aiden didn’t accidentally burn or destroy something in the house. Sans his friends because they just couldn’t be trusted. Sabrina didn’t mind though, Aiden was like a little brother to her and hey, she also got free food. It was a win-win situation.

“Thanks, Aiden.” It was a soft return of gratitude to the praise she had received, followed with a gentle smile that was returned wholeheartedly and reminded Sabrina of the sun. What a precious guy.

“Hey Bri, do you think we can hit the mall?”

Sabrina raised a brow at the question, shoulders raising too. “I mean we could, but it might hurt.”

Aiden groaned at the poorly made joke, eyes rolling in exasperation. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Sabrina couldn’t suppress the giggle that bubbled up in her chest, one hand raising to cover her mouth as she tried to keep from snorting. After calming herself, she cleared her throat and nodded. “Sure. Let’s clean up-”

“We can clean later.” Aiden whined, a pout on his lips. “I want to get to the mall before it closes.”

“Why?” Sabrina asked.

“I - uh - need to get gifts...for my boyfriends,” Aiden said shyly, head bowed in embarrassment as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. It was really cute, but everything about Aiden was cute and Sabrina could understand how he managed to get two boyfriends.

“You haven’t gotten them a gift yet? Christmas is next week!”

“I know! I’ve just been so busy with exams and homework. I barely have the time to see them, let alone have time to go Christmas shopping. Doesn’t help they go to a different school.” Aiden pouted, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“So, what you’re saying is that if I take you to the mall, I would be helping your relationship?” she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. “Little Aiden will be a good boyfriend then, making his boyfriends happy?” she teased, relishing in the whine that he let out in embarrassment. “Alright, we can go, but on one condition.”

“Name it.” Aiden agreed quickly. A little too quickly, which made Sabrina happy.

“You do all the dishes when we get back, by yourself.” Sabrina laughed as Adien’s mouth dropped and she could see he was getting ready to protest, but never uttered a word. Instead, he simply closed his mouth and nodded, resigned to his fate. The things he did for Felix and Changbin.

“Okay.”

“Perfect! Let’s go then!” Sabrina cheered and headed out of the kitchen and to the front door. Free of cleaning duty, she was more than excited to go shopping now.

~*~*~*~

The relief that came when Sabrina finally parked was more than welcomed with Aiden thanking all the Gods he knew in a rush of muttered praises, surprised that they hadn’t crashed or ran anyone over. Sabrina was actually surprised she managed to keep her road rage in check and didn’t hit anyone. Though she really had wanted to run one woman over in particular. She had just decided to walk out in front of her car, without even checking to make sure the coast was clear.

Stupid Karen.

Aiden practically sprinted to the main entrance of the mall, leaving Sabrina to fumble with her keys to get the car locked. With the click of the doors, Sabrina ran after Aiden, chasing the bratty teenager through the food court and down the leftwing - barely dodging the unsuspecting patrons milling about. “Aiden! Slow down! You’re gonna run into-” The world rushed around her, yet all she could focus on was her heavy breathing and the feeling of arms around her waist. Looking up, her eyes locked with a pair of chocolate brown orbs, brows creased with concern.

“Are you alright?”

Gathering her bearings, Sabrina straightened herself as she slowly left the man’s embrace with a nod. “I’m fine. I’m so sorry about that.” she apologized, bowing to the other. She felt absolutely terrible about running into the man. And she certainly wasn’t being a good role model for Aiden.

“It’s okay. As long as you’re not hurt.” He was being too kind, which only deepened Sabrina’s guilt. She had expected him to yell and blame her for being careless, which was true. But instead, he was worried about her. A complete stranger! She would be lying if she said that it didn’t make her heart flutter a little.

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing or where I was going. I’m so sorry.” She protested, once more bowing to the man, a little deeper than last time.

“It’s fine, really.” the guy laughed, his whole face a light with a bright smile. It was stunning and took Sabrina’s breath away. “Just be more careful, okay?” he asked and she gave him a tentative nod. It seemed to satisfy him and with one last smile, he walked off.

The encounter was strange, but by the time Sabrina found Aiden again, it had completely escaped her memory. The younger male was in the bookstore, browsing through the shelves stacked with cards and board games. He had three games already in his hands, eyes reading over the back of another game that was sitting on the shelf. “What did you find?” she asked, moving to stand beside him. He jumped, struggling to hold onto the games as he glared at Sabrina.

“You just gave me a heart attack! Jesus!” he whined, trying to keep his voice so he didn’t disturb any of the other shoppers, but that was a struggle for him. Aiden was not at all a quiet boy.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t at all sorry, giving a shrug before taking one of the card decks from Aiden’s hand. “Cards Against Humanity?”

“Yeah. Normally I play with Felix and Changbin online. It has a larger and better selection of card decks. But there have been times we’ve wanted to play while together, but we didn’t have 3 computers and using our phones sucked.” Aiden explained, pouting at the memories.

“So you’re going to give your boyfriends a card game?” Sabrina raised a brow as she stared at Aiden, watching him squirm under her gaze.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Why not? Because that’s such a sucky gift! You should be getting them something romantic or something.” she huffed out.

“Romantic? Like what?”

“I don’t know, google it. Romantic gifts to give your boyfriend. I mean, you could even give them headphones. Something other than a card game.” she said, taking the games from Aiden’s grasp and placing them back on the shelf. “What do they like? Give them a gift to complement their personalities or something they really have been asking for.”

Silence fell over the two as Aiden stared at the floor, brows knitted together. Sabrina was worried that maybe she had been a little too harsh and critical on Aiden for his gift choices. Honestly, who was she to even protest as she had? They weren’t her boyfriends. But she did remember all the drama and angst Aiden went through to even get to the current point he was at with his boyfriends. She really just wanted to make sure his Christmas with his boyfriends was as sweet and romantic as it could get. He deserved it.

“Aiden-”

“Bri-”

They stared at each other, waiting for the other to talk. When neither of them made a move, Aiden let out a heavy sigh. “Bri, I need help. I don’t know what to do or get them. They’re just so…” Aiden trailed off and let out a frustrated sigh, pushing a hand through his hair. “What do you get someone who is so perfect and has everything they could ever want?” he asked. The sheer desperation that was shining in his eyes had Sabrina’s heartbreaking and she wanted nothing more than to pull Aiden into a hug and protect him from the world. But maybe it was that protection that left him so clueless.

“Maybe they don’t need trivial items?” Sabrina suggested, an idea coming to her.

“What do you mean?”

“Instead of spending your money on a card game or something else they’ve probably received a dozen times, maybe you could make them something?” Sabrina suggested with a gentle smile. “You know? A handmade gift always means more than a store-bought one.”

“Make something? I’m not at all creative, what could I possibly make them?” Aiden pouted, staring off to the side, racking his brain for ideas.

“Aiden, you’re going to school for the performing arts. You make music for your classes. You’re very much creative.” she assured as she reached out and patted his head. “You don’t need to do anything grand like writing them a song or anything. Just something heartfelt.” She felt like she was talking to a child, who didn’t have the cognitive capabilities to understand what she was saying. It really saddened her, but he was managing on his own.

“Like a card? Or a letter?” Aiden asked. Sabrina nodded with a gentle smile.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go check out the stationery section. We can get some cute paper, colored pens, and washi tape. Maybe we can find some other things we can add.” Taking his hand, Sabrina led him from the games and across the store to browse for the items they needed.

“Thanks, Bri, you’re the best.”

~*~*~*~

It didn’t feel like it was that late in the day, but by the time Sabrina and Aiden finished their shopping, the store was almost completely empty. It was odd, especially considering the fact it was only 3 pm, long before the mall was supposed to close even with the holiday hours. Nonetheless, the two made their way to the front entrance and were greeted by the largest and thickest blanket of snow, falling from the sky.

“Oh, crap.” Sabrina whispered.

“Oh, crap indeed.” A voice from behind her agreed and she turned around, staring at the group of males behind her. One of whom she recognized almost instantly as the handsome stranger she had run into earlier that afternoon. “The news said it wouldn’t hit until later.” he complained.

“Looks like the weatherman might have been drunk again.” Another male spoke up from next to Mr. Handsome. The group was composed of five guys, all very good looking and for a moment, Sabrina questioned what she did in her past life to be surrounded by such handsome men.

“Lix? Binne?” Aiden asked, brows furrowed as he stared at the group. “Jinnie?” All those names sounded familiar from the countless tales Aiden would recount when Sabrina would come over to hang out with him. And suddenly, Sabrina didn’t feel so blessed because at least three of the five good looking guys were a couple of years younger than her.

“Aiden! What a small world.” Hyunjin cheered as he walked over and pulled Aiden into a tight hug. Aiden smiled, returning the hug before pulling back shortly after to move to Felix and Changbin, giving them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m here Christmas shopping with my-” He stopped himself, cheeks flushing as he looked to Sabrina who was smirking.

“You’re what?” Felix prompted.

“His babysitter.” Sabrina grinned, winking at the whining boy who was trying to hide behind his two boyfriends. “I’m Sabrina or Bri for short.”

“Nice to meet you, Sabrina. It sure is a small world, we’re babysitting too. I’m Jinyoung and this is Jackson.”

“We’ve met.” Jackson chuckled and Sabrina could feel herself blushing.

“Again, I’m so sorry. I was chasing after that one.” she said as she pointed to Aiden.

“Hey! I was just excited!” Aiden pouted.

“I said it was alright. Stop apologizing.” Jackson assured her with a soft laugh, flashing her such a sweet smile that it only seemed to enhance his handsome features and Sabrina found herself wanting to see more of that smile.

Was there a formation of a crush happening? There sure was.

“Okay.” The reply was soft and she wasn’t sure if they had actually heard her or not. It didn’t matter though and she turned her attention back outside. It honestly shocked her at how quickly the storm had rolled in and covered the ground with such a thick layer of snow. They weren't even at the mall that long! Her eyes scanned the gray sky, slowly darkening further as the clouds slowly moved. It was only going to get worse, she could tell.

“Looks like we’re stuck. At least until the storm passes.” Jinyoung mused.

“Who knows how long that’ll be.” Sabrina commented and turned around. There were a few groups of other people milling about the mall entrance. All stuck just like them. Well, at least they still had power.

They spent the next five hours waiting within the mall. The food court employees that were left fired up the grills and made meals for those stuck there. Sabrina spent her time getting to know Jackson and Jinyoung, swapping stories about Aiden, Felix, and Changbin. Most were absolutely hilarious and Sabrina was very glad that she wasn’t the only one who was witness to Aiden’s stupid moments. It was around 8 pm when rescue workers were finally able to clear a path to the doors of the mall and another hour before roads were cleared enough for everyone to head home. Though Sabrina was ready to go home, she didn’t really want her time with Jackson to end. The older male (as she found out) was very funny and she wanted to get to know him even more. But Aiden was tired and getting cranky, so being the good babysitter she was, she took him home. And as they were warming up and cleaning up the kitchen, Aiden handed her a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Jackson’s number. He said to call him whenever.” Aiden shrugged before disappearing out of the kitchen, leaving Sabrina to clean alone. She couldn’t even bring herself to care either, eager to finish and call Jackson. Maybe this Christmas she won’t be lonely.

Tags: @cuddly-bangchan @lordseochangbin @channiesmixtape @starryseung @felixsanxchatbot @jisungsjheekies

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tagsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

From @Scattergraph

To @avengedbiologist

Secret Santa doesn’t own this, full credit to author above!

Prologue

When the boys were little, Christmas had been all about family fun. Then later, after Lucy’s death, things had begun to lose their way a little. There was one really awful Christmas none of them liked to remember, much less talk about. Then there were a couple of mediocre ones where more effort was put in to try and bring things back to normality a little bit, but something just still wasn’t quite right. Aside from the obvious absence of their mother, of course.

After that, it had all gotten very commercialised – presents that grew with size, quantity and cost every year; shows and events in the calendar that had to be attended; professional engagements that couldn’t be missed. In fact, Jeff could barely remember even seeing his boys last Christmas. Maybe for an hour or so as they worked their way through the mountains of presents they neither needed nor really wanted (Jeff and Grandma with their own piles also), but even that was a bit of a hazy blur. Had they even had dinner that day? He really couldn’t recall it if they had. After the present opening, they had all pretty much gone their own separate ways; off to explore their new things, watch TV, visit friends etc. Thinking back now it was all a bit sad really, though at the time it had seemed like none of them had even noticed. Maybe that was how they had wound-up where they were today - Christmas Eve - with this year’s absolute and utter debacle. Later to become known as: ‘The day that saved the Tracy Christmas.’

It had all started three weeks before Christmas. So determined Jeff was to change things for the better this year that he had flat out refused to allow his boys access to anything other than $100 maximum of their allowance savings. Now that might seem like a lot, but in a family of five brothers, one Dad and a Grandma, that $100 had to be split across multiple presents and that was before you even factored in buying for friends and in Scott and Virgil’s case, girlfriends too. In a world where expensive jewellery and the latest technology were the norm for present buying and you were also expected to get people more than one thing each, that $100 to cover it all just wasn’t going to cut it. There had been arguments bordering on rows, whining, stomping, much moaning and sulking, but in the end, the boys had relented to their fates and Jeff was certain that despite the dark mood in the household, he had done the right thing.

The next day was a Saturday and Jeff slipped into his Christmas jumper and made his way down the stairs to breakfast, a smile on his face as he approached the kitchen as he fondly thought of the chaos that would surely meet him on the other side of the door.

“Morning Boys - …” he beamed in his cheeriest voice, determined to make up for the arguments of the previous night and get this year’s ‘family fun’ Christmas off to a good start.

Silence came his answer as he looked around the empty room before him, smile dropping and confusion taking its place.

“If you’re looking for the boys, you’re a half-hour too late, son,” Grandma supplied as she manoeuvred her way around the disappointed patriarch and over to the dishwasher, which appeared to be fully loaded with the remains of what looked like it would have been a pretty good breakfast.

“They left?”

“Sure did. Said something about needing to beat the crowds.”

Jeff sighed. Sounds like his boys were still more interested in hitting the shops than spending the day with him after all. He had hoped that having had a chance to sleep on things they would all come around to his way of thinking. The older ones at least. They were mature enough to understand his reasoning, right? Boy, he hoped so. Three weeks of arguments and hostility were not on his agenda. Despite his good intentions, maybe he had just gone and made things worse.

“You can stop that,” Grandma scolded without so much as a look at him as she loaded the last of the dishes into the washer and set it to begin.

“What?” Jeff replied.

“Blaming yourself. You did the right thing and they know it. They just haven’t fully realised it yet.”

“Hhm, well, fat lot of good it did me. Alone in an empty house while the boys are off gallivanting across town.”

“Alone? What am I, something the cat dragged in?”

“Well… “ Grown man or not, he couldn’t possibly let an opportunity like that go to waste.

“DON’T you answer that, boy!” the old lady snapped at her son’s menacing smile. “Now park your butt in that chair and get this down you.”

Depositing her forlorn son at the kitchen table, she proceeded to plonk the biggest plate of pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast and everything else but the kitchen sink down in front of him, fresh from the warmer where it had been hiding.

“You made me breakfast?” Jeff asked, grateful but surprised.

“The boys did. Well, Virgil mostly. The others can’t cook for toffee, but they meant well.”

Jeff looked up at her, amazed.

“Something of a peace offering, I think. Alone in deed.” The old woman muttered and rolled her eyes as she left the room, knowing the giant grin she would surely see returned to her son’s face if she were to look back.

Maybe things were looking up after all. Though how his mother had the gall to comment on anyone else’s cooking ability was beyond him. Lord knows Jeff never had the time to teach his boys those skills and with Grandma as their only remaining role model in that department, his poor boys never stood a chance.

***

Over on the other side of town and after dropping a protesting seven-year-old Alan off at a friend’s for the day, Virgil, John & Gordon all piled out of Scott’s battered old fixer-upper sad excuse for a car and stalked up to the front doors of the local mall. Though they had made sure to get there early, an over-excited gathering of Christmas shoppers had already started to assemble outside ready for opening. They had a mission, sure, but it was looking more and more hopeless by the minute.

“Gordo, I want you to look me in the eye and promise me - no fingers crossed, toes crossed, opposites day, or anything else for that matter - that you are going to stay with John.”

“Scotty, you worry too much.”

“Gordon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Stick with John. Roger. I hear you. Now will you go already, time’s a wasting you know. Also, you might wana’ turn that frown upside down big brother, if the wind changes you’ll be stuck like that forever you know.”

It was wasn’t for John’s swift intervention as he wrenched a grinning Gordon behind him for protection, they may have been down one annoying little brother right there and then.

“Don’t worry Scott, I got him. You guys go, we’ll see you at home,” John supplied, ever the voice of reason and responsibility.

Scott eyed Gordon suspiciously, not liking how casually his little brother had switched from cocky grin to angelic innocence from his place behind John.

“You’re sure you’re okay to get the bus home? I don’t know how long this is going to take,” Scott asked warily.

“We’re fine. We’ve done it plenty of times before.”

Scott still wasn’t convinced he was doing the right thing. Being the eldest really sucked sometimes.

“Scott, they’re opening up, come on,” Virgil nudged.

“Yeah…ok. Just window shopping and then straight home, you got it? Like we agreed last night.”

“We know. Just go. And Scott, good luck, yeah?” John added.

“Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

With that, the older two made their way inside and off towards the mall’s management suite, leaving John and Gordon watching on patiently until they were finally out of sight.

“Are we safe yet?”

“Dunno,” John replied, “give it another minute. You know how Scott gets his Momma-Bear panties in a twist when he’s in charge. He might double back.”

Another minute ticked by.

“Now?” Gordon asked again.

“Okay, we’re good. Meet you at the bus stop in a couple hours?”

“You got it.”

“I mean it Gordon; you better be there. If you get us caught, we’ll be stuck going along with their plan and I for one am not happy with that.”

“What, taking handouts from Scott and Virge while we’re stuck at home like little kids? No thanks. I pay my own way.”

“Good, then we have a deal. Where are you going anyway? You know there aren’t any shops around here that will give jobs to an eleven-year-old. Exactly how do you plan on making any money?”

“You’re only two years older than me. What’s your plan?”

“Never you mind.”

“Right back at ya.”

John stared at Gordon. Gordon stared at John. More seconds ticked by.

“Okay, fine! Whatever. Let’s just do this.” John sighed in exasperation as his once again cocky-grinning little brother high-tailed it off into the crowd.

“Laters Johnny!” He called back over his shoulder and the redhead couldn’t help but laugh. Now all they had to do was stay hidden from the older two and all would be fine.

***

Back in the Management Suite, two dejected brothers waited their turn in what was the mall’s depressingly un-festive employment offices. If their Dad expected them to just sit back and do nothing after taking their allowances away, he had another thing coming. They had presents to buy and presents were expensive. Especially the designer boots Scott had been eyeing up for Lisa Tate and the new console he had been hoping to get for his younger brothers. Then there was the ridiculously expensive necklace Ellie Haskins had demanded from Virgil as ‘proof that he loved her.’ They had only been going out for a few weeks for flips sake and he sure as heck wasn’t about to go actually throwing the ‘L’ word around anytime soon, so if this bought him some more time then all the better. Plus, there was the agreement that the boys would share any money they made with the younger three to cover their shopping too. Of course they had wanted to come along and get jobs of their own but both Scott and Virgil knew the mall would never allow it so when they had made their plans the night previous, this had seemed like the best solution no matter how much the younger ones disliked it. Only problem was, it was three weeks before Christmas and all the jobs were already taken. Well, almost all.

“Hhm. Look, boys. I know you want to earn yourselves some extra Christmas money but there just isn’t anything left. All the positions were filled weeks ago.”

“Please, Marcy,” Scott tried again, clocking the woman’s name badge and ensuring he gave her his best sad smile and lost puppy dog stare. She was an older lady with a motherly vibe about her. Yes, it was shameless, but he could work with that. His own mother had gifted him dimples and he sure knew how to use them. “Virgil and I, well, we just want to be able to give our little brothers and Grandma the best Christmas we can,” an arm around Virgil for emphasis, “please, we’ll do anything. Whatever you have.” A swift stamp on Virgil’s foot below the counter to spur him into action.

“Yes, anything. Really. Please? Our Grandma, well she just loves Christmas and with Dad away at work so often…” It technically wasn’t a lie.

The woman surveyed the sad scene in front of her.

“Why don’t I just double check the system. Maybe something came in overnight.”

After a couple minutes of typing, frowning, hhhmmm-ing and lip biting, Marcy was suddenly looking a lot more hopeful.

“Well it looks like you boys may be in luck after all. We happen to have two positions just opened up – one looks like a new demand and I think the other is to replace someone who has just quit. The jobs though, -“

“Well take them, if you’ll have us that is? Like we said, we’re desperate, we’ll do anything,” Scott cut her off before she could talk herself out of it. They really needed the money if they were ever going to stand a chance at getting the presents they needed this close to Christmas.

“Okay then boys. Let me call the managers down here. If they like you, I don’t see why we couldn’t get you started tomorrow. You’ll just need to fill out the paperwork, then you’re all good to go.”

The smiles of relief that followed were genuine and enormous.

“Thank you so much. We really appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart.”

A few minutes later and the boys had been separated into two offices after the managers they had been waiting on had arrived. There had been an awkward moment beforehand where they were both eyed-up like prize poodles on show, rather concerningly as they had not been expecting this kind of scrutiny, before it had been decided that Scott would be best placed with Mr Thompson of Thompson’s Sporting Goods and Virgil would go the other way with Mr Rafferty to work for his business, whatever that may be.

In Scott’s office, all the paperwork had been completed and he was essentially good to go, or so he thought. It seemed that Mr. Thompson had a few questions for him first. Fully prepared to launch into a download of all his academic achievements and the experience he had gained during his recent Summer placement at Tracy Industries, he was somewhat taken aback when Mr. Thompson opened with “How’s your dancing?”

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Dancing? You’re a sportsman, yes? School football or the like?”

“Well, yes Sir, but – “

“Then you can follow instructions and follow a play. You’ll be fine. If not, well, I’ve no other option. Rest of my staff are all needed elsewhere - would take too long to train you up on the shop-floor now and we don’t have anyone available to do it anyways.”

“Excuse me for asking Sir, but then exactly what is it you need me to do?”

Scott’s stomach dropped as Mr. Thompson hauled a box up onto the table and proceeded to empty out its contents on to the desk in front of him.

“New initiative from head office, only problem is nobody seems to want it. Wrong time of year, you see. Everyone’s out buying Christmas presents and here we are trying to sell this stuff. Go figure. Fact is, profits are down this year. I don’t find a way to sell this, I’m finished. There’s fifty-seven schools in the catchment zone for this mall, what with all the bus-loads of out-of-state shoppers coming in this year. More if we can get sales up on the website too. What I need is a face to market them, and I think you’re my man.”

Scott would violently disagree, that was, if he hadn’t so gallantly promised his little brothers he would provide them with the money they needed to buy their Christmas presents.

“But Sir, those are Cheerleading uniforms. Diamante cheerleading uniforms.”

Mr. Thompson sighed.

“I know son, trust me. They’re not exactly my cup of tea either, but Head Office have taken a real liking to these things so we gotta’ move them. You’ll be working with Helena – girl’s been Cheering practically since she was born. She’ll teach you all the moves you need, nothing major, just a few arm signals, lifts, that sort of thing. There’s a daily showcase at the food-court and rest of the time you’ll be in the shop window. Living manakins, they call it.”

Scott’s throat had gone dry. “Showcase…” he choked out, brain not having caught-up as far as the ‘living window’ section yet. “In that?” he looked down at the male, baby blue, sparkly cheerleaders’ uniform in front of him.

“Afraid so, Son. All I got at the moment I’m afraid. So, can I count on ya’?”

Scott wasn’t so sure. His brothers had always teased that the term ‘Dad dancing’ had been coined just for their father and the apple certainly hadn’t fallen far from the tree there. Plus if his brothers ever found out about this… Still, the look in Mr Thompson’s eyes as he had told Scott of this being his last lifeline to save his store – how could he say no to that? The man clearly needed help and Scott needed a job, no matter how potentially disastrous and embarrassing.

“Yes Sir.”

“Good lad, glad to have you on board.”

***

Over on the other side of the Mall, Virgil sat in an equally daunting and potentially embarrassing situation, only he was surrounded by fake snow and candy canes.

“You want me to be an Elf???”

“Attrition rate for Elves his high around here. Workers get bored of the noise, the long hours, blah, blah, blah. Line’s halfway round the Mall every day and Santa needs his helpers. Turns out the real elves are kinda busy this time of year, up in that workshop and all, so I have to make do with the likes of you high-schoolers.”

“You do realise I’m nearly six-feet tall, Sir? Not exactly the usual Elf image.”

“Yeah, I know, not exactly ideal, but you’ll do me well for lugging the heavy presents and decorations around and you’re still shorter that that other guy you were with, so looks like it’s your lucky day. Turn up tomorrow, 6am sharp. Lockers are there, changing room’s there, wear this,” he handed Virgil a very bright, very small and way-too-jingly package in the most hideous shade of green he had possibly ever seen, “and bring your Christmas cheer. Uniform might be a bit tight; last guy was a lot smaller than you but we don’t have time to order in a new one so you’ll have to make do. Don’t worry, we’ll hide you in the back; no-one will ever know. Oh, and make sure you get this permission slip signed. All minors have to have them this year. Mall policy. No signature, no job. Any problems?”

“Erm…well…”

But Virgil didn’t get chance to finish that thought. Somewhere out front a small toddler had begun an epic meltdown, which Mr Rafferty had slunk off to, mumbling incoherently to himself and leaving Virgil staring forlornly at the package in his arms. Hide in the back he absolutely would, no question. If he weren’t so desperate and hadn’t promised the others he would help provide for them, not forgetting the Ellie issue on top of that, well…never mind that thought. It was what it was. Only one thing was certain in his mind – his brothers could never find out.

***

It was lunch-time when the boys arrived home, all near-enough at the same time and with Scott and Virgil having collected Alan on the way through. When they had dropped him off the boy had seemed down-right depressed at being left-out, but now it was as if someone had flipped a switch and he was back to being his over excitable self, constantly asking where John was and why he hadn’t come back with the other two. When questioned on why he was so keen to know, the littlest brother was giving nothing away but there was obviously something on his mind, that was for sure. The fact that Alan had apparently spent the morning helping his friend Jarod’s Nan with her online shopping gave no explanation whatsoever as to his sudden change in mood but whatever it was that had caused it, the others were grateful. A sulking Alan was not something any of them particularly wanted to deal with right now. However, it wasn’t Alan’s sudden mood swing that had them asking the most questions. It was the stinking blur that shot past them as they made their way through the hallway and into the kitchen.

“Erg, what’s that smell?” Alan asked, never one to sugar-coat things.

“I think it was Gordon.” Scott answered as he peered up the stairs to where his younger brother had now disappeared.

“Are we completely sure it isn’t Grandma’s Christmas cookies?” Virgil asked as they all suddenly came to a wary halt in front of the kitchen door.

“What was that, Virgil?” Grandma asked gruffly, appearing in front of them as if summoned.

“Erm, nothing Grandma.”

“Thought not. Now get in here before you catch cold. John, close that front door, you’re letting all the heat out.”

“Yes Grandma.” John replied, narrowly avoiding the little flying blonde tornado that suddenly launched itself at him.

“John, you’re back!!” Alan squawked, “I need to talk to you!”

“Can it wait? There’s something I need to do first.”

“But John, I’ve got this idea and – “

“John, what’s going on with Gordon and that smell? I thought you guys were supposed to be going shopping and then straight home?” Scott rounded on his brother, in a casual just-checking-in but also not-so-casual I’m-the-big-brother-in-charge-and-you-need-to-answer-me-or-else kind of way.

“Nothing Scott, that’s exactly what we did. He probably just stepped in something on the way home. Come on Alan, what did you want to talk to me about?”

And with that, John hurriedly steered his beaming little brother up the stairs and into his room before any further questions could be asked.

“Scott, forget about it. Everyone’s home and fine, that’s all that matters. Bigger fish to fry at the moment, remember?” Virgil reminded him.

“Hhhm. Yeah, I guess.” Though he certainly wasn’t done with the matter, that was for sure. Gordon was up to something. Heck, John was likely up to something too. Neither of those was ever a good scenario to just let slide, never mind if they were in on whatever it was together. But Virgil was right. Bigger fish and all…time to face the music.

***

“How did this happen Ma?” Jeff asked several hours later as he drained what he suddenly realised was his fifth Christmas Brandy of the night.

They had had a lovely afternoon, all the family together. Gordon had reappeared just as lunch was served, hair wet and smelling of way too much shower gel. Alan and John had eventually been pried out of John and Virgil’s room where they had been holed-up having hushed but very animated discussions involving John’s laptop, a flip chart and far too many whispers of ‘quiet, they’ll hear you!’ for Scott’s liking. Then there had been board games, fun, Christmas decorating and a few hours of exactly what Jeff had been hoping for this holiday season. So much so that he hadn’t even noticed that his two eldest had been plying him with booze all the way through it until he was good and merry and almost didn’t realise what he was signing when they both presented him with temporary employment slips for the local mall. The room had cleared pretty quickly after that with everyone slightly nervous at what Jeff’s reaction would be, and truth be told, he had been pretty saddened at first. Not mad per say, just disheartened that the fun they had had that afternoon would be coming to an abrupt end because of his own rules. Even so, he couldn’t fault them one bit. His boys were hard-working, good kids at the heart of it. And, as his mother had not so subtly pointed out, they were only doing exactly what Jeff himself would have done in that situation. The boys themselves were just happy the permission slips were all generic and didn’t go into any detail on what they would be doing or more importantly wearing; simply stating: ‘Christmas Retail Assistant’.

“You raised them well, that’s how.”

“But now they’re going to be working all hours of their Christmas break. I’ll probably see them even less than last year. Did you know that Gordon asked me if he could spend his time off over at Coach Ashford’s Winter training camp too? Said he needs to work on his swim technique over the break if he wants to make the team this year. And John - he’s having to hit the library every day and it’s all for that extra credit course I encouraged him to do. And now Alan too, little Alan, my Christmas cracker himself wants to follow in his brother’s footsteps and go with him to the library!! I mean, what the heck is that?! Of course, I couldn’t say no to any of them. What kind of parent would I be then? Is it me, Ma? Did I scare them away? Was this afternoon all an act to get me sloshed enough to agree to their plans so they can all just run off and do their own things?”

“Those boys are a lot of things Jefferson, but malicious isn’t one of them. If I were you, I’d be mighty proud and if Lucy were still here, bless her heart, I’d bet she’d be saying the same thing too. That is, after smacking you upside the head and telling you to stop being such a miserable old man. The boys had a fabulous time this afternoon, we all did, and if we have to wait until Christmas day to do it all again, then so be it. Now come on, help me clean up.”

Jeff smiled warmly at the mention of his late wife, raising his glass a little in her honour as he thought of her watching over him now. His mother was right, of course. She always was. “Yes Ma.”

It had been a week of early wake-ups and late home-comings, for Jeff also, who had taken the opportunity to dive back to the office and clear a few more things off his to-do list while the boys were all out. It was only Grandma who was left in the house during the day and the woman was now officially concerned, to put it mildly. By the time Monday night rolled around, she had just about had enough.

“Jefferson?! You need to do something about those boys!” the old lady demanded before her son had even managed to shed his coat or make it to the living room.

“Okay Mom,” the patriarch sighed, “who did what to who this time?”

“No-one did anything! That’s the problem. It’s just too damned quiet around here!”

“Excuse me?” His Mother never cursed. Whatever this was, it must be serious.

“It’s those jobs and that training camp and all that studying! Don’t you notice how peaceful it is around here? Everyone is pussyfooting around everyone else. And then there’s Gordon and that SMELL! Surely you must have noticed that.”

Oh. Well, yes, there was no denying that one. His boys were many things but subtle was not one of them and they certainly weren’t as sneaky and good at hiding things as they all seemed to think they were.

“And ANOTHER thing,” ah, of course, she wasn’t done yet, “you do realise John is walking around here with a limp, don’t you? And Virgil and Scott will barely look each other in the eye let alone hold a conversation. And I don’t know what exactly is going on with Virgil and my singing Santa ornament but three times this week I’ve found it hidden in the pantry or in the closet under the stairs and I know he’s responsible despite the fact he denies it! Do you know I found him yesterday just sitting outside in the fields in the snow all alone for no good reason? He said he was just ‘enjoying the peace and quiet’.”

“Maybe he was?”

“This is Kansas, Jefferson, it is twenty-four degrees Fahrenheit out there!”

“Look, Ma, I know you’re worried, but everything’s fine. Trust me. I’m on top of it.”

“On top of it?”

“Yes Ma.”

“Oh really?”

“One hundred percent.” Jeff took her by the arms, a pleading look in his eyes. Yes, truth be told, there were some mighty strange behaviours going on in his house right now. In fact, it was making for a great spectator sport from his perspective, knowing full well what was truly going on and why. Yes, he did have to admit that he’d forgotten to factor his Mother and her potential reaction into the equation, but he was having far too much fun watching it all unfold to let her in on the secret just yet.

Just as it looked as though the lady may have begun to relax, both the front and back doors burst open and the boys began to pile in.

At the front door were Scott and Virgil – Scott, whose normally expertly groomed hair was now spiked with silver and blue glitter and Virgil, looking nothing short of frazzled and harassed. At the back door was Gordon, covered from head to toe in thick, sticky mud and looking like something the cat dragged in. Then from behind him appeared John, with a black eye, and Alan talking a mile a minute so loud his squeaky, excitable voice echoed around the hallway. Virgil flinched wildly at the sound as all the boys froze in place on seeing each other arrive. Scott stared worryingly at John. Gordon stared in awe at Scott’s hair as if desperate to comment but for some reason unable. And once again, though it lay thick in the air for all to encounter, not one of them made mention of that absolutely awful smell. Not even Alan.

Silence filled the room in an awkward standoff as all the boys looked nervously towards Grandma and their Dad.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Grandma shrieked as she spun her back on Jeff and stalked off to the kitchen, washing her hands of the entire situation.

As the door slammed shut behind her, the boys looked once again towards Jeff.

“Dad.” Scott ventured.

“Scott.”

“Erm, I think I’m going to go take a shower,” Scott continued when bizarrely, nothing more was said.

“Sounds like a good idea. Dinner’s at Eight.”

And with that, Jeff retired to his study, a slight smile creeping into his features as he left his children to their mischief, each making their own excuses before quickly darting away to their various hideouts for the night.

***

Later that night and after a truly awkward dinner where no-one seemed to want to talk about their day, despite Grandma’s best efforts to get more information, a still-worried Scott stood lurking outside of John and Virgil’s room with a glass pressed up to the door.

“You know it’s rude to eavesdrop, son.” Jeff spoke softly from behind, causing a startled Scott to jump. Come with me, I think it’s about time we had a little talk.”

“Yes Sir.”

Scott’s head hung in shame as he took the offered seat in his Father’s study.

“So, do you want to tell me why you thought it was okay to encroach on your brother’s privacy like that?”

“I know it was wrong.”

“Yes, it was, but you did it anyway. So, tell me what’s going on.”

“I was just concerned about John, that’s all. I mean, did you see him? He had a black eye, Dad! From going to the library. On top of that limp he had the other day…I just thought that maybe he was in trouble or something. And apparently, he has bruises on his back, too.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I just heard Virgil say it. He’s worried too.”

“And what did John say?”

“He told Virge not to worry; that he was fine.”

“No, what did John say to you?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Did you at least ask him what happened before you started spying on him?”

“Well…no, not exactly. I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Because if I ask him about that, he’s going to ask me about…other things.”

“Things like your new job.”

“Yeah. Wait, no. Why would you say that?”

“Scott, I’m going to let you in on a secret.”

“Dad, no offence, but I can’t really handle any more secrets right now.”

“This one will help you out with that. Trust me.”

Scott looked at his father with interest. It had been a while since he had been summoned to the study and on previous occasions it had been more for lectures and meetings about grades and chores. He had gone in there tonight fully expecting to be on the receiving end of a long telling-off after what he had been caught doing, but this was…strange. Different. His Dad didn’t seem mad at all and whatever the man had to say had his interest piqued.

“Okay.”

A long, fond look passed from Father to Son as Jeff realised just how lucky he was to have such moments with his eldest; the chance to impart some wisdom, as it were.

“Scott, I know what your job is.”

“I’m working for Mr Thompson, selling sports kit. I help out on the shop floor…and other places.”

"Yes, I hear you’re working very hard. With Helena McKinley, as I understand it.”

“Yeah, with Hele-“ Scott suddenly stopped. This was not good. “How did you know that?” he asked cautiously.

“Did you know that Helena’s mother, Irene McKinley, works for Tracy Industries? In fact, she’s my regional Head of Marketing. Fabulous woman. Excellent at her job. Normally all she wants to talk about is work, but this past week, do you know what her number one topic of conversation has been?”

“I think I can guess,” Scott mumbled into the floor, cheeks suddenly flushing a wild shade of scarlet.

“Apparently the biggest thing going on this Christmas in the Marketing world is the new ad-campaign over at Thompson’s Sporting Goods. ‘Stroke of genius’, she called it. As I understand it, their goods are flying off the shelves now and all because of an idea her daughter put forward to the owner. Helena has big plans to follow in her Mother’s footsteps, it seems.”

“MmmHuh,” Scott mumbled again, fearing he knew exactly where this was leading, and boy was his Dad ever dragging this out to torture him.

“So anyway, there she is going on and on about this wonderful initiative and how her daughter just looks so beautiful and graceful modelling in the shop window and cheering for the crowds in the daily showcase. In fact, her only wish was that they could have paired Helena up with someone a bit more coordinated and who maybe knew a thing or two about cheerleading because apparently this mystery model they’d ‘lumbered’ her with has two left feet and all the grace of a drunken giraffe.

“A drunken giraffe?”

“A drunken giraffe. Now by this point, of course, I’ve heard so much about it that I had to go and check this whole thing out for myself. So down to the mall I went.”

Oh no.

“Want to guess what I saw when I got there, Scott?”

“Not really…”

“Well, let’s just say, it explained a few things that was for sure.” Jeff smiled warmly at his son, waiting to see what the reaction would be.

“And…?”

“And what?”

“That’s it? No other comments? Don’t you want to laugh at me like the others will when they find out?”

“Why would I laugh at you? You’re just doing your job.”

“But Dad, it’s embarrassing. So embarrassing, my own girlfriend dumped me when she found out.”

“Maybe it’s not what you hoped you’d be doing when you went over there. Maybe you didn’t intend for, and I quote: ‘#ScottieTheCheerleadingHottie’, to be trending all over social media right now.” Oh God, no. “But jobs can be that way sometimes. We do what we have to do for our families and for others. Do you know how much of a difference this ad-campaign is making to Mr. Thompson? His sales are through the roof because of you two and it’s only been a week. You’ve probably saved his business.”

“So, what’s your point?”

“My point is, stop being so hard on yourself and worrying about what everyone else is up to or thinking. It’s Christmas. Have a little faith in the others around you and just enjoy yourself.”

“But Dad, what about John? Something isn’t right and if I don’t- “

“John is fine.”

“But you saw the state of him, someone’s clearly hurting him. I mean, I know John can be pretty clumsy when he’s got his head stuck in a book or something, but there’s a limit Dad. No way did he accidentally do all that to himself in a week.”

“Or maybe he did and you just don’t know all the circumstances. Accidents do happen, you know, Scott.”

“Dad, no offense, but you’re being way too calm about all this. Unless…”

“Unless I know something you don’t?”

“Do you?”

“Scott, I’m your Farther. It’s my job to know everything and to do all the worrying so that you don’t have to and trust me when I tell you, that John is absolutely fine. Do you really think I wouldn’t have intervened by now if I thought he was in any danger?”

“Guess not.”

“Right. You boys mean more to me than anything else in the world and don’t you forget it.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile at how far his Father had come in the last few years. After their mother’s death, things had looked pretty bleak for them all and it had been a long and hard journey to get back to this point. To hear his Father now talking so open and lovingly and to know that he really did mean every word of it was something Scott didn’t take lightly.

“So, you’re really not going to tell me what’s going on or how he’s getting all those bruises?”

“Not my place to tell,” Jeff replied apologetically, “but if it puts your mind at ease, just look at it this way: You heard what John said to Virgil, yes?”

“That he’s fine and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“And do you really think Virgil is just going to go and let that drop?”

Scott smirked at the sly grin on his Dad’s face. “Not a chance.”

“Then your brother already has it covered; no need for you to get involved. Let Virgil take this one.”

“Yeah, okay. He probably has more time to handle it than I do right now anyway. Man, I wish I had Virgil’s job. He has it so easy.”

Jeff studied his son’s face carefully as Scott finally relaxed back into the comfy office chair.

“Scott, what exactly has Virgil told you about his job?”

“Not a whole lot. It’s my fault really. I’ve been avoiding him, too busy trying to keep my own little secret. I really thought I’d been busted this afternoon when I left work with all that glitter still all over me. Stupid stuff wouldn’t come off – another one of Helena’s ‘great’ ideas.”

“But Virgil didn’t say anything about it?”

“No…that was weird, actually. He never even mentioned it. Come to think of it, he never talks about work at all. Mine or his. All I know is he’s working stockroom over at that big new department store on the upper level.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Sure. Why, is that not what he told you?”

“It’s exactly what he told me.”

“In the same way that I told you I was just working the shop floor?”

“All I’m going to say is that you two boys have a lot more in common that you think. All five of you, for that matter.”

Now Scott was more confused than ever. Just exactly what was going on around him that his Dad apparently knew so much about while he had managed to miss it all?

“Dad, if the aim of this talk was to stop me worrying, you’ve officially managed to achieve the exact opposite.”

Jeff sighed. His boy would make a wonderful father someday, he really would. But right now, he still had a few lessons to learn.

“Scott, listen to me. The point I’m trying to make is that there will always be things going on that are out of your control and no amount of eavesdropping or snooping around is going to fix that. Sometimes you just have to sit back and trust in others, like knowing that Virgil will look out for John. You don’t always have to be in control of or know everything.”

“Because you already do?”

“Sometimes. Usually, in fact and on this occasion most certainly. But that’s my job as your Dad. All I need for you to do, is relax and try to start enjoying yours because no matter how much you might hate it right now, you’re doing really well. You hear me?”

“I hear you. But…”

“What is it, son?”

“Dad, I know you said to just let it all go, and I’ll try, I really will. But I have to know – please – it’s driving us all mad… Exactly what the heck is going on with Gordon and that seriously disgusting SMELL?!”

“Hah!!” Jeff roared with laughter. Well, come to think of it, this one he could actually do with Scott’s help on. “Son, let me ask you this: If you were Gordon’s age and your older brothers sat you down and told you they were going to go out, get jobs and then just give you some of their money because you weren’t old enough to make any of your own and all you had to do was sit back and wait for it to appear, what would you have done?”

“I would have said no freaking way and found a way to go out and make my own money. Wait, are you saying…? Oh, that little - !! We had a deal! Are you telling me he’s completely ignored everything we agreed and gone out and found himself a job?? Is that even legal? Surely it can’t be safe? And what about his training camp?!”

“Oh, he still goes to that, for the three hours a morning it lasts. Then he catches a ride back to Coach Ashford’s family farm, where the Coach lets him work the stables for the afternoon.”

“Coach Ashford lives on a farm? But that’s great. Gords has never been into helping out with that side of things here.”

“And he still isn’t. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him this miserable in a long time. Maybe you could have a word with him - teach him why we do what we do and how important it all is, like your Grandfather did for you back when you were his age and just as uninterested in that side of our family business?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Might be fun actually. I used to love hanging out with Gramps while he taught me all that stuff. Just as soon as I give Gordon a piece of my mind for lying to me, that is!”

“You mean, like you’re lying to him about what you’re out doing all day?”

“Yeah, okay, point taken. I’ll go easy on the little squirt. I think being around all that livestock is probably punishment enough anyway, that can’t be easy work. But Dad, why is he lying? Farming isn’t embarrassing? Half the people we know are farmers.”

“Scott, put yourself in Gordon’s shoes again. If you were eleven and loved nothing more than pranking your brothers and then one day said brothers found out you were spending all your spare time literally shovelling…well, I’m sure you’ve smelled what he’s shovelling. We all have. Anyway, in Gordon’s mind, would you want your brother’s knowing that was what you were out doing?”

“But it’s just a job - you do what you have to do, it’s not embarrassing.”

“That sounds like some mighty good advice there, Scooter.”

Scott smirked. He had flat out walked right into that one.

“Right, yeah, I get it now. What exactly is the Coach farming, anyway?”

“Reindeer, of all things. Can you believe it? Every Christmas the Coach grooms a few of the heard up nice and presentable and loans them out to the mall to use in the Grotto on Christmas Eve – make things extra special for the children. I believe your brother has been helping him out with that.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember. We did that whole grotto thing once, with Mom, back when we were little. She took me and Virge over there on reindeer day to see Santa, but it didn’t go all that well and we never went back again. I think Virge has probably blocked it from his memory.”

“What do you mean, it didn’t go well?”

“You know, ‘cause of Virgil and his whole ‘big animal’ thing.”

Jeff blanched.

“Dad, what is it?”

“Oh, err…” he cleared his throat, suddenly a little more nervous than he would have liked to admit. “It’s nothing, I just…Virgil’s ‘big animal’ thing. I’d forgotten all about that…”

He suspected Virgil had, too.

It was 11am the next day and Virgil was in a candy-cane and fake-snow covered Hell. Despite Mr Rafferty’s assurance that he would remain firmly hidden in the back, Virgil was now working front-of-house present handling duty for the fifth time in as many days. No wander the last Elf to wear his costume had up and quit. So far today, Virgil had been sneezed on, laughed at, jumped on, sat on, yelled at, cried all-over and as of twenty minutes ago, firmly kicked in the Jingle Bells. The child’s mother had apologised, swearing over and over that her ‘little angel’ hadn’t meant to do it. Virgil wasn’t so sure.

As the next child came up to sit on Santa’s lap and claim their present, Virgil did what he could to rally and plaster a big grin back on his face. As worn-down as he was, he knew what this meant to the children. Christmas was supposed to be a magical time and it was his job to bring that magic. In stripy tights, tiny green shorts, curly-toed jingle-shoes, pointed ears and a silly hat, it seemed. All of which barely fit him. Then there was the rosy cheeks they painted on him every morning – the less said about that, the better. Still, he ploughed on, humming away to himself to try and block out the incessant tones of ‘We Wish you a Merry Christmas’ as it blared out across the speakers for the seventh time that morning. Once those songs got in your head, you just couldn’t get them out again.

Turning his back on Santa in order to reach into the sleigh and pick out the next present, he didn’t see the small gathering of teenage girls siphon in behind him until it was all too late. There were three of them all together, all too-much makeup and designer handbags and everything that Virgil usually didn’t care less about except for this time one of the girls who wore it was his very own girlfriend and he didn’t spot her until it was far too late. Spinning around with present in hand and fully expecting to be confronted with the next small child, his eyes went wide in horror as the grotto camera flashed, forever capturing the moment Ellie Haskins first saw her handsome, football playing boyfriend dressed as a giant green Elf. Worst of all, she wasn’t even there with a child. She was there with her friends, for a joke, and now that joke was him. Ellie hid her head in her hands in shame. Her friends stared and laughed. Virgil leapt three foot in the air clear across the sleigh and out the back door of the grotto in an attempt to get away, only to land face to face with…

“GORDON??! Oh, come on! Please tell me this is not happening!”

“Heya Virge. Erm, looking good there, big brother.”

Virgil just stood there, staring and panting - out of breath, angry, embarrassed and all together a broken man. Surely his day couldn’t get any worse.

The big beaming smile on Gordon’s face suggested otherwise.

Then there was the Coach. Wait, what?!

“Tracy! Looks like I get two for the price of one today. Nice legs,” Coach Ashford greeted him as the older man took a scrutinising look at his prize Line-backer before wandering off to talk with Mr Rafferty.

“Don’t worry Virge, I’m sure he won’t tell anyone,” Gordon offered, realising this was not the time for jokes after all as his big brother sunk down to sit on the floor in defeat. “And neither will I.”

“It’s not you guys I’m worried about,” Virgil muttered into his arms as he buried his head in his lap in dismay; the sounds of his thoroughly embarrassed girlfriend and her jeering friends trailing off into the distance on the other side of the door. “Gords, what are you even doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at training camp? You know Scott is going to kill you when he finds out, right?” he lifted his head to take a good look over his wayward younger sibling, surprised by the sincerity of his previous statement and amazed that nothing more had been said about his outfit.

Instead, Gordon clambered down to the floor to sit with him, pulling a pair of fake reindeer antlers out of his back pocket and sticking them on to his head as he sat.

“Training camp is mornings only and I’m still going - it finishes at the end of the week anyway. Plus, Scott’s a big-old pussycat on the inside, he’ll get over it.”

“That doesn’t answer my question of what you’re doing here?”

“Same as you I guess, earning my keep.”

“How?”

“Coach Ashford’s reindeer farm.”

Virgil looked his brother over. Yep, he really was here and it wasn’t a joke.

“You know Scott and I were going to share our earnings, right? Like we said we would.”

“Yeah, but that didn’t really seem fair to us.”

“Us?”

“Err, forget I said that.”

Virgil just laughed. He didn’t know why they hadn’t seen this coming.

“So where is John working? I’m guessing it’s not the library.”

“Doubt it, but honestly, really couldn’t tell you. Guy’s a mystery wrapped in a Rubik’s cube.”

They both smiled at that. That really was John to a tee.

“So seriously Gords, what the heck are you doing here at the grotto?”

“Oh, yeah, well, Coach Ashford is loaning out one of the reindeer to the big man in the red suit on Christmas Eve. I’m just here to help out with the practice run, you know, make sure Bessie behaves herself.”

“Bessie?”

“The Reindeer.”

Suddenly the smiles dropped and both boys’ eyes went wide.

“Bessie the REINDEER?? As in, there’s a real, live reindeer??! In here??!” Virgil almost screeched.

Gordon swallowed hard. Reindeers were big animals and it was a long and well-known fact in the Tracy family that Virgil just didn’t get on with big animals. Or more accurately, big animals just didn’t get on with him. As if on cue, an angry snort and stamping of hooves was heard from above them and as both boys looked up, there was Bessie – nostrils flared and raring for attack. Climbing slowly to their feet and trying not to startle her further, Virgil began to sidestep carefully to the right in an attempt to create some distance from his brother. He knew exactly where this was going and there would be no escaping it. He just hoped those horns weren’t as sharp as they looked.

“Easy girl,” Gordon cooed as Coach Ashford and Mr Rafferty stepped around to join him. The reindeer never took her eyes off of Virgil.

“Tracy, what the heck have you gone and done to Bessie?” the Coach asked as he took in the sight of the most docile and loving of all his heard gearing up for attack.

“Nothing Sir, I swear,” Virgil squeaked out, “big animals just kinda don’t like me…”

”Say what now?” the Coach asked as he tried and failed to grab hold of Bessie’s reins, stepping back carefully as the deer bucked and snorted hard in anger, throwing her head down and edging ever that bit closer to Virgil who was now firmly pinned to the grotto door by Bessie’s giant antlers.

“It’s true Sir,” Gordon supplied nervously, “always been a thing. Horses, big dogs, alpacas, Kangaroo…they all just go for Virge.”

“Kangaroo?”

“Yes Sir,” Virgil squeaked out again, face full of reindeer breath. “Gords, do you maybe wanna get you pal here to back down?”

“I’m trying, she just seems to really, really hate you V.”

“MmmHuh, I see that Gordon. What do I do about it?!”

“Errrm…”

“Here, try this.” The Coach pulled a large bag of reindeer feed out from his coat and launched it towards Gordon, who luckily managed to catch hold of the bag and began to lure the reindeer away.

It was a hard choice for Bessie. She was certainly torn between her pure, unprovoked hatred for the second eldest Tracy child and her want for her favourite snack and it was a tense minute for all those involved as she made her choice. Finally backing down, Bessie began to move away, retreating a few steps before coming to rest in front of Gordon where she proceeded to bury her snout inside the feed bag. Everyone relaxed as Virgil breathed a sigh of relief, but it seemed it was all a ploy on the reindeer’s part. Chugging back the contents of the feed bag in one swift movement, she suddenly spun, rounding back on Virgil and charging with all her might. Before he had even the time to react, a pair of front hooves slammed into his chest as the bucking reindeer launched him backwards, straight through the grotto door where he landed hard on his back on top of Santa’s sleigh to the chorus of a crowd of tiny screaming children. Bessie, satisfied she had made her point, wandered casually back towards Gordon and the Coach as if nothing had even happened.

As the Coach began the job of re-securing the deer and Mr Rafferty and Santa did their best to placate the visitors, Gordon climbed cautiously up onto the sleigh and looked down at his big brother who lay flat on his back, groaning in pain and surrounded by presents.

“Virgil, you okay?” he asked awkwardly as the Elf in question began to haul himself up, more presents scattering around him as he did so.

“Mmmmm,” his brother hummed as he clambered to his feet, clutching at his chest as he attempted to dismount the dishevelled Sleigh.

“You sure?” Gordon prodded as Virgil attempted to stretch out his back.

“Yeah…sure, why not. Nothing we haven’t dealt with before, right?” he mumbled miserably.

“Never a reindeer though, sooo, that’s something. Another one to add to your list, huh? You know, after the Kangaroo,” Gordon ventured, warily. His brother desperately looked like he needed some cheering up and thankfully after taking a second to think it over, Virgil gave in and smiled. “Hey, maybe they’ll even get you a new costume now that that one has muddy reindeer prints all up the front of it. You know, maybe one that actually fits…” Gordon made a face as he nodded towards Virgil’s way-too-short shorts.

And that was exactly what Virgil needed, a bit of light-hearted humour in an otherwise awful day. Besides, maybe his brother was right and he could barter a new outfit off of the back of this. He sure as heck wouldn’t be able to just give in and quit now. Given the embarrassment he had put Ellie through this morning, he sensed it was going to take a lot more than one necklace to get back in her good books and that would require a lot more earnings than he had currently managed to make. “Come here, squid,” he called out, playfully grabbing his little brother by the collar and ruffling his hair as Gordon fought to get away, dislodging the younger’s fake antlers in the process and subsequently causing himself to wince as his reindeer-battered chest protested the movement.

“Tracy Senior, unhand my Chief Deer wrangler and go get yourself checked over. Junior - harness her up, I think it’s time we got Bessie here back to the heard.”

“Yes Sir,” the boys chorused as Mr Rafferty approached, having temporarily closed the grotto.

“Sorry about all that Virgil. Look, I know you’re probably three steps away from walking out on me, but I’m already down to just two Elves and I really need you to come back tomorrow so what would you say to double time for this morning and same again all Christmas week?”

“Huh?” Virgil questioned, having not expected this development. An elbow in the ribs directed his attention downwards.

“He’s desperate, V,” Gordon mumbled, “go for the uniform.”

“Erm, that would be great, but it doesn’t really seem fair on Mel,” he ventured, remembering his equally hard-working and only remaining Elf colleague. “Maybe if I could just get a new uniform, you know, one that actually fits? And possibly ditch the face paint?”

“Deal. Absolutely. You got it. I’ll have it here first thing tomorrow. Now why don’t you head down to first aid, have them take a quick look – no arguments, mall policy and all - then take the rest of the day off. I’ll cover the remainder of the shift with Mel.”

“Thank you, Mr Rafferty.”

With that, Virgil headed for the changing rooms as his boss stalked off.

“You know you could have had both, right? The guy was practically begging you,” Gordon groaned at his big brother’s chivalrous nature.

“It’s not always about the money, kid,” Virgil schooled as he smiled at Gordon’s inevitable eye-roll. “Now don’t you have a reindeer to go catch?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, and Gordon, could we maybe keep this as our little secret? You know, not tell the others?”

“I dunno V, what’s it worth to me…?”

With that Gordon ducked out the door and was gone, grinning wildly and narrowly missing the flying Elf shoe that was aimed towards his head. Despite all the jokes, they both knew he wouldn’t tell.

***

An hour or so later and Virgil, now back in his own clothes and having been given the all clear to leave by the Mall’s dedicated first aider, was making his way back to the little medical office after realising he had left his jacket behind. It had been a fight to convince the first aider not to ship him off to the hospital or even call in his Dad, but somehow he had managed it nonetheless and he was not looking forward at having to go back in there and risk the man changing his mind. Slinking around into the tiny and thankfully empty waiting area, he suddenly faltered as his ears latched on to a voice he had not been expecting to hear. Grabbing his jacket from the chair he had left it on earlier, he quickly dived back out and around the corner out of sight as the office door opened.

“You know you’ve nearly broken the record for most number of visits within a week? It’s a three-strike deal here, remember. I’m doing you a favour by letting this one slide as it isn’t so bad, but one more incident and that’s it I’m afraid. No more job. Mall policy.”

“I know. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault kid, just get better at it. Fast.”

“I’ll try.”

And with that, the office door shut and the patient left, head down in defeat and without so much as a look back as he trailed back out into the mall and on his way. Vigil looked on with worry mounting on more worry as the sad figure of his next youngest brother retreated into the distance.

John.

“He’s not going to like that you followed him,” Alan ventured, causing Virgil to spin suddenly on the spot to where he now saw the youngest of all the brothers sat behind him at one of the canteen tables.

“Alan?? What are you doing here?” Virgil asked, shocked at seeing yet another of his brothers lurking around the mall where they shouldn’t have been.

“Well, duh. John’s pretending to be at the library and the only way I can get out of the house is to go with John, so I’m here pretending to be at the library too.”

Well that answered absolutely none of Virgil’s question.

“Okay Alan, let’s try that again.” Virgil walked over and took a seat next to his brother. “Why are you and John pretending to be at the library when you’re actually sat here in the ice-rink café? And what the heck does John think he’s doing out there?? He’s going to get himself killed at this rate.”

Both Virgil and Alan winced as a loud bang drew their attention to the large, plastic partition that separated the little café from the ice rink itself, watching on as their not-so-graceful middle brother was now smushed face on into the barrier behind a wall of equally unstable kids. Thankfully he didn’t appear to have seen them. Picking himself up, John attempted to straighten out his high-visibility vest and assist the others to their feet, only to bring himself crashing back down again next to them.

“Surely they’re not letting him work as a Marshal?! He can barely stand up in those things. How do they expect him to be able to help co-ordinate other people?”

“Well, it was the only place here that would take someone his age and you know, Jarod’s Dad runs the rink so he agreed to do Johnny a favour. I think he was hoping John would have given in and quit by now but, well, you know John.”

“Yeah, that’s the stubborn Tracy gene right there.”

Another crash and a bang and John was star-fished back on the ice again. Virgil made a pained face as he watched on in sympathy.

“Don’t worry, there’s only another five minutes to go. Rink closes in the afternoons. Plus, you learn to just sorta tune out the crashes after a while,” Alan supplied.

Virgil looked over his little brother with interest. Five more minutes of John getting his butt kicked when he could easily intervene and put a stop to it was not an easy thing to just sit back and take. He needed a distraction.

“So, tell me Ally. What exactly have you been doing here this whole time? You’re not taking turns out on the rink too, are you?”

“Nope, they don’t let kids my age do it. What if I were, though? At least I know how to skate.”

It was true. Alan could get around the rink as well as any of the rest of them, all except for John, that is. Poor boy had just always been that little bit too uncoordinated and overly clumsy to get on with skating and had subsequently found himself some other interests.

“So, what is all this then?” Virgil gestured to the laptop that sat on the table in front of them and the pile of paperwork beside it.

“Well, it’s kind of a side job, I guess. Since the rink is only open mornings and we’re both free in the afternoons, we joined this website where you get given a shopping list of stuff that’s been ordered online by one of the local people who can’t get out to get it themselves – you know, little old ladies mostly, but also people who work and don’t have time to shop, that sort of thing – and then me and John go and pick it up for them.”

“You’re doing other people’s shopping?”

“Yeah.”

“And you get paid to do it?”

“Well, just tips mostly, when we drop it off for them. But people are pretty generous this time of year so the money’s good and sometimes we stay and help them gift-wrap it too so then they give us extra.”

Virgil stared down at Alan, amazed.

“You guys do all that, every day? How do you get the presents over to their houses?”

“Well, that’s the hard part, ‘cause we only really have the bus and sometimes it takes us lots of trips if it’s like a big shop or something, or more than one order. A couple of times we had to take a cab but then that meant we had to pay more to get there so it ended up not being really worth it. Money-wise, that is. Is was still nice to help those people out, you know?”

Virgil smiled warmly at his little brother’s sincerity.

“Yeah, I know. That’s pretty amazing Ally. You know, if you wanted, Scott and I usually finish at six so we could always help you guys out with the deliveries if you wanted? That way you could take on more orders during the afternoon and just pile the stuff into Scott’s car and we could all drop it off on the way home?”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not? I’d rather that than have you guys sneaking around and getting in all sorts of busses and taxis to stranger’s houses.”

“You’re starting to sound way too much like Scott, you know that, Virge?”

“Hey, he just cares. And so do I. Although, you know this means I’ll have to tell him what’s going on, right? He might not be too happy you guys have been keeping secrets.”

“Meh, I think Scott has enough secrets of his own right now to worry about ours.”

“What does that mean?” Virgil asked, confused.

“Oh, nothing. Just, we spend the afternoons shopping, me and John. Sometimes we see things…”

Suddenly it wasn’t Scott that Virgil was concerned with.

“See things, like around the mall?”

“Like at Thompson’s Sporting Goods. Or, you know, that new department store upstairs with the Santa’s grotto on the front of it…” Alan trailed off, face the picture of sweet and innocent but implications anything but. Oh God.

You know, Ally, if you don’t want my help…”

“No! Wait, I didn’t say that!”

Virgil grinned. Problem solved.

“Don’t worry Sprout, I got your back. Although maybe let Gordon in on it too, yeah? His training camp finishes at the end of the week so he’ll have some time free in the mornings to help you out.”

“You mean before he goes off to that stinky old reindeer farm?” Alan asked, making a face as he said it.

“You know about that?”

“We share a room, Virge. It’s not like he could hide it. He’s Gordon. He’s messy. There are muddy clothes stuffed under, like, everything.”

“Well, I guess there is that.”

“You know he was bringing one of the reindeers here today?”

“Yeah…I know.”

“And I heard on the two-way in the kitchens that there was an animal attack earlier on.”

“Mmmhuhh…” Virgil did not like where this was going.

“So, I guess that’s a new one for your list then, huh?”

Virgil stared down at his younger sibling in awe.

“What makes you so sure it was me?”

“It’s a big animal, Virge. And, well, you know – it’s you.”

“So?”

“So, everyone knows they just look for you. It’s like they have some kind of a radar. You’re like, the personal punching bag of the big animal world.”

Great, what a reputation to have. Alan was right though. Thank God Dad had never had any great desires to take them on Safari.

“So, it really wasn’t you, after all?” Alan asked, shocked.

“No…” Virgil sighed, defeated. “It was.”

Alan laughed. “Sorry Virge.”

Virgil laughed too. “Nah, s’ok. Guess it is pretty funny.”

“So, it didn’t hurt you?”

“Well, I got two giant hoof prints in the front and a sleigh-shaped dent in the back, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hoof prints?”

“Hoof prints.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

A moments silence, and then they were both laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Before long the siren was blaring to mark the end of the session out on the ice.

“Hey, do me a favour?” Virgil asked. “Don’t tell John I was here? I think he’s had a pretty rough morning so last thing he probably wants is me here making it worse.”

“You’re not going to lecture him on the dangers of skating when you don’t know how to skate?”

“Nah, I have a better idea. But hey, what I said before still stands though. Meet us at the carpark just after six and we’ll give you a hand with your present drop.”

“Thanks Virgil. Oh and hey, if you have some time free, you should check out the new window display over where Scott’s working. It’s pretty…interesting.”

Hhhm. Okay. Well that sounded ominous. Maybe he would go and do just that.

“No worries kid.” He gave his brother an affectionate nudge before looking up to see John attempting to - very slowly - make his way off the ice. “Gotta’ run.”

And with that Virgil was off. Quick stop at the jewellery store to make his second down-payment on Ellie’s necklace, then off home for a few hours downtime with Grandma before he needed to be back to meet the others later on. But first, about that window…

Scott was lost for words. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, you could usually bank on it being down to a brother or two. This time it was two.

“Scotty. You okay there?” Virgil asked as they missed their next turning.

“I just…can’t believe they’ve been at it for over a week and neither one of us noticed.”

Virgil Scoffed. “Yeah, think we’ve lost our watchful big brother status.”

As luck had had it, Scott had been given the afternoon off also and had been making his way out of Mr Thompson’s store (thankfully after having changed back into his normal attire) just as Virgil had turned up to check out the window display Alan had been so keen for him to see. While Virgil didn’t entirely understand Alan’s reasons for sending him there, he did have to admit the teenage girl modelling the new Cheerleading range on the other side of the glass was pretty nice to look at. It was just a shame she only seemed to have eyes for Scott – a fact which was blatantly obvious for all to see, clearly reciprocal and which Virgil was not about to let Scott forget about any time soon. In fact, he had ribbed him about it all the way back to the car until they set off on their way home and the conversation inevitably moved on to the more pressing subject of just exactly what Alan and John had been getting themselves into this past week.

“But hey,” Virgil tried again as he realised his previous comment probably wouldn’t have done much to make Scott any happier, “at least now we don’t have to share any of our earnings with them, so you might not even need to go back to work next week. You must have made enough by now to cover your present shopping?”

Scott sighed. “Yeah…I guess you’re right. Although, you know, I think I might stick it out until Christmas anyway.”

“Ah, okay. This wouldn’t have anything to do with your little Cheerleading friend back there, would it?”

“No! Well, maybe a bit. I dunno. More to do with something Dad said, though.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah. We had a talk. He said some…things. About work. The other guys. You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Hey, Virge. You’d tell me if there was anything going on with you at work, right?”

“Going on? Like how?”

“Like if you were keeping any…secrets?”

Virgil swallowed nervously.

“You know what, forget I said anything. I think finding out about John and Alan has just made me paranoid.”

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief, though the guilt that came with it was surmountable. He hated lying to Scott. Normally they were a team. They told each other everything. But this? Scott was his role model, someone to look up to. Virgil couldn’t face the thought of his big brother finding out he was spending his days as a stocking-wearing, pointy-eared Christmas Elf. He just couldn’t. It was bad enough the others had found out.

In the next seat over, Scott was having similar thoughts. This was it, the perfect opportunity to come clean to Virgil and tell him just what it was he had been doing every day. Especially after having just asked Virgil outright if he was keeping any secrets. Scott felt like such a hypocrite. But even so. He was supposed to be the role model, the one they looked up to, listened to. Dad worked a lot and when Scott gave orders, he needed the others to respect him enough to listen and back him up and Virgil always did; his lifelong best friend and Second in Command. How could he possible let Virgil see him dancing around – and so, so badly – in that little sparkly outfit and still expect his brother to respect him after that? Even as the thoughts went through his head, he knew he was doing his brother a disservice. This was pure Scott Tracy paranoia at its best. Virgil wouldn’t care; of course he wouldn’t. At least two of his other brothers had been roaming the mall for a week and clearly already knew and they had said nothing, not a word. Maybe he should…

“So why have you taken the afternoon off?” Virgil asked, attempting to fill the long silence that had settled over the car as Scott thought things through.

“What? Oh, yeah. Something else Dad said – I need to go have a little talk with Gordon about something.”

“Err, you know, he might not be home. He has that training camp.”

“It’s fine, that’s early mornings only, he’ll be long finished by now.”

“Well, yeah, but I think maybe he had other plans this afternoon so he probably won’t be home.”

“It’s okay Virge, I know where he is.”

“You do?”

Scott thought for a moment. Virgil had told him about Alan and John. It was only fair he repaid the favour.

“Yes, look Virgil. It turns out Gordon has been lying to everyone as well. Gordon’s been working afternoons at Coach Ashford’s Reindeer Farm.”

“You know about that?” Virgil asked, surprised.

“Dad told me, he wants me to go spend some time with Gords, like Gramps did for me. Hold up. How did you know about that?”

“I swear Scott, I only found out today.”

“But you’ve been working all day, how could you possibly…wait – you said you left early because of an incident at work. Gordon was helping take one of the reindeer into the mall this morning. That animal attack!! That was you, wasn’t it?!”

“WHAT?” Virgil spun on his brother. How in the heck –

“They put an alert out to all the other businesses, just in case anything else happened. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Oh, come ON!!!” Virgil vented as he buried his face into his arms on the dash, banging his head in an attempt to wipe out the events of the day. Scott could only laugh.

“Oh God, Virge, I’m sorry but it’s just so…I mean, I should have worked it out earlier. As soon as I found out Gordon was going to be taking that reindeer in, I should have known. What is it with you, it’s like they seek you out or something?”

“Scott, if I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t have a reindeer shaped impression in my chest right now.” Scott’s expression immediately switched to concern. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, I got checked out and everything. You could have warned me he was coming in though.”

“Sorry Virge, it didn’t really occur to me that it would be an issue. I mean, you work in the stockroom – how did it even find you? You venture too close to the grotto or what?”

“Something like that.”

Scott laughed again, he just couldn’t help it, despite his brother’s misery. Virgil glared.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, and I’m guessing you don’t want to come with me to go Visit Gords so I’ll drop you off at home with Grandma and then come grab you later to pick up the other guys. We can help them with their present drop on the way home just like you said we would.”

“Really, you don’t mind? You’re not mad at them for lying.”

“Nah,” Scott really couldn’t blame them for that, not with his own behaviour recently, “it might even be fun.”

***

It was later that night and the boys were helping Grandma clear up after dinner when Jeff eventually made it home, having gotten stuck at work despite it being the supposedly quiet holiday wind-down.

Everything had gone as planned for the others prior to that. Scott had made it over to Ashford’s farm, having previously arranged it with the Coach. After Gordon’s initial shock at seeing his big brother turn up and slight anger that Scott had decided to interfere in the first place, they had both actually ended up having a pretty fun afternoon. Scott had enjoyed teaching Gordon about farming and the reasons behind what he was being asked to do; everything from how it affected the ecosystem and helped the environment right through to the more personal and business benefits. Meanwhile, Gordon had enjoyed putting Scott to work as he talked, sitting back and listening as his older brother took on his usual cleaning, grooming and shovelling duties. Scott had smiled away to himself as Gordon had mentioned this ‘friend’ of his that was having trouble getting along with the reindeer and needed some help. Without wanting to let on that he had a very good idea who this ‘friend’ might be, Scott had suggested that maybe Gordon used his new found passion to help said ‘friend’ find a way around it. Gordon would do just that.

Before long, they had been having such a good time just hanging out and talking – something Gordon and Scott never really got the chance to do anymore – that Gordon had joined back in with the work too. It was the first time that he had really begun to understand how important his job actually was to the Coach and the Farm and that he wasn’t just there to make money and clear up someone else’s mess. He was actually contributing to a much bigger picture. He liked that. In fact, he liked it so much that he was actually looking forward to going back again tomorrow and telling his other brothers all about it.

After that, the Coach had let them off slightly early so they had both had time to go home, shower, pick up Virgil and head back to the mall for John and Alan who were waiting by the carpark in anticipation with a pile of goods the size of a small mountain. It had been a pure feat of engineering to get all five of them and the shopping into the car but they had managed it and had successfully delivered everything, gaining more than enough tips to make it worth-while doing again and again, which they fully planned to do right up until Christmas. Only, from tomorrow onwards Scott had vowed to bring their Grandpa’s old truck so they would have more space for everything and John would keep the keys so that he and Alan could take on more orders and stack everything in the vehicle during the day, ready and waiting for when the others finished work. After all, as John put it, he would have much more time on his hands from tomorrow anyway, as the ice rink would surely be letting him go. There was no way he could make it through another shift without falling over and he was already on his final warning. Virgil had smiled at that – he had no intention of letting John be fired, not if he had anything to do with it.

Currently Virgil was off digging in the hallway closet, ploughing through load after load of old junk and boxes until he found…” Yes! There you are.”

“Find what you needed, son?” Jeff asked as he narrowly avoided a falling box of books, catching it just before it could spill out all over the ground.

“Oh, sorry Dad! Think I may have messed up your filing system,” Virgil grimaced as he looked about him at the chaos he had created during his search. “I didn’t realise how much stuff we had in here.”

“Tell me about it. Worst up, I think most of it hasn’t been touched since last Christmas when we piled the last load of unused presents in there.”

“Yeah, we do just keep throwing more things in here, I’m surprised it hasn’t collapsed on one of us before now,” Virgil commented as another box came toppling down from an overcrowded shelving unit overhead, Jeff managing to pull his son clear just in time. Seeing what was in Virgil’s hands, Jeff smiled.

“So, you found out what your brother’s been up to every day then?” Jeff gestured to the battered old hockey skates looped by the laces around Virgil’s neck and the slightly smaller, almost pristine pair still in the box in his hands.

“You know about that?”

“The mall calls me every time there’s a medical incident. John had tried to fake number them of course, just like he faked the signature on his permission slip to get that job in the first place, but even with the business still getting on its feet, the Tracy name is getting into circulation. The first aiders over there looked me up. I’ve been getting reports ever since he started, keeping an eye on him just in case things got too bad.”

“He faked your signature? Wow, weren’t you mad? I mean, does he know that you know?”

“No, he doesn’t. I thought about ringing him out, believe me. I even went down there, but after seeing him out there for myself I figured he was punishing himself enough sticking it out on that ice every day without me needing to give him another lecture. As long as he’s not in any serious trouble and he’s still looking out for Alan while he’s there, which he is, then I’m happy. Plus, I’ve got Jarod’s dad keeping an extra eye on the both of them. I don’t think Alan has even realised that’s why he gets brought a plate of free food and all the hot cocoa he wants while he sits in that café waiting for John every morning.”

Virgil had to laugh at that. Even when he was at work all day, their father still knew everything they were up to. Bur wait, if he knew about John getting hurt, then…

“Hey Dad? When you said they called you about John. Does that mean – “

“That they also called me to report that the second eldest of my apparently very accident-prone brood had just been kicked through a door by an angry Christmas reindeer?”

Virgil winced.

“Yes, they did. However, as they assured me you were okay, there was nothing to worry about, and that you were insisting I didn’t need to be contacted, I said thank you very much for the call and that was that.”

“And that’s why you’re here now, checking up on me?”

“Exactly.” Jeff smiled. “So?”

“So, I really am fine Dad. No major damage.”

Jeff frowned. “What about minor damage.”

“Just some weird shaped bruising, nothing more. It’s all good. I think it’s happened so often I’ve built up some kind of immunity to it. Didn’t hurt half as much as that Kangaroo.”

They both cringed at that memory.

“Ok son, well, if you’re sure. Just don’t go at it too hard,” Jeff nodded again at the skates in Virgil’s hand.

“We won’t.”

***

John was hot. Beyond hot. In fact, he was bordering on being an absolute sweaty mess under all the extra layers Virgil had bounded him up in. Outside all around them the air was near to freezing, their breaths steaming up in front of them through the darkness. Even so, under all these coats and trousers, pads, cushions and the oversized football helmet stuck on his head, John would never feel it.

They had been out on the ice for half an hour already, down on the frozen pond in the back field. The other Tracy’s had been skating there every Winter practically their whole lives; the pond deemed perfectly safe due to it being only about half a foot deep at the best of times. Still, John had never seen much of a need to venture out there before except for that one time his Father had insisted he try it, just to see if he liked it. He hadn’t. He still didn’t. Despite all that, he had taken on his new job – the only one available to him – determined to see it through to Christmas. That meant not getting fired and that meant taking up Virgil’s offer of nightly skating lessons from this point forward. Every evening after dinner, his big brother had insisted, out of not wanting to see him hurt again. He was still sporting a wrist guard from this morning’s disaster and didn’t want to add another one to the mix. He only wished he had gone to Virgil sooner, but he had been too embarrassed to ask. It had come almost as a relief when after dinner that night Virgil had rocked into their shared bedroom, plonked John’s once used skates down on the bed in front of him and told him he knew everything that had been going on. At the time, he had been unbelievably grateful for the offer of help, but now…

“Another lap, faster! The key is not to be scared of the ice, attack it! It can’t hurt you if you own it, just remember that. First step is attitude,” Virgil called as he zipped past John, almost twirling him around in his wake.

There was not going to be any easing into it, Virgil had made that very clear. There just wasn’t the time for that. John needed to get better at this and to do it quickly. He knew the younger had it in him and that he was not half as clumsy as he believed himself to be, he just needed to find a way to focus.

“It’s like math,” Virgil tried again, a little more relaxed this time as he sensed John was getting frustrated.

“Virgil, in what universe is ice skating ever like math?”

“Let me re-phrase that. Ice-skating, is like skiing, you know, technically – the way you stop, move your feet blah blah blah, and I know you can ski. So just do that.”

“’Just do that’ he says. You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple, you’re just over thinking it because you’re scared of falling. But the ice can’t hurt you, not tonight, see,” Virgil poked at all the padding he had swaddled onto his little brother until the younger fell butt-first onto the ice. Credit to Virgil though, it didn’t hurt.

“But I won’t have all this on me tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t, but it won’t matter, because you’re just going skiing, like I said, which you already know how to do, right?”

“Virgil, I don’t get – “

“Visualise, John. Don’t think, just move your feet.”

Virgil pulled his brother up and John did just that, gliding along on the skates just as he would a pair of skis on the flat snow, exactly like they had when their mother had taught them. At some point, John didn’t know when, Virgil had let go of his arm, but John had kept going. Round the rink he went, getting faster and faster, strides closer and more graceful with each move. Forget the stupid padding! He wanted it gone, out of his way!

“Whoop! Yeah Johnny, you got this!” Came the shouts from the side-line, where Virgil was now leaning happily against an old fencepost which held back his three other brothers, all puffy coats and woolly hats, cheering away at his progress and boosting his confidence tenfold. He could do this. He really could. If only Virgil wasn’t now adding cones to his path. Remembering his snow-plough, he screeched to a sudden stop.

“Lesson two.” Virgil stated.

“Already?”

“No time to waste, little brother.” He stared at John, knowing he was moving things along ridiculously fast, but there was also zero doubt in his mind that John could hack it. And boy, did he need to.

“Lesson two.” John repeated, determined.

“Okay then,” Virgil grinned, “skating is like Math.”

Great, this again.

“Virgil, we already went past that one. Skating isn’t like Math, it’s like skiing, and that’s working for me so let’s stick with that.”

“No, technical skating is like skiing. Plotting your next move and working the crowds – that’s like Math. It’s all one big equation. Work out what the people are doing, where they’re going, where you need them to be, and find the way through. People are predictable, mostly, you just have to spot the patterns. Just like you do in class, it’s no different.”

“You said ‘mostly’.”

“Well, yeah, the ice can make things a bit difficult. Every now and then something will go wrong and someone will fall on their face – not you – and you have to watch out for that. Those are your variables. As long as you watch the crowd, see them coming and factor them in, you’re winning. It’s all just one big equation needing solving.”

“So the cones are – ?”

“In real life, people. In your head, whatever you need them to be. Numbers, building blocks, data – whatever your brain needs to process them, just work it out. Right?” Virgil asked, sincerely, hoping he was not barking up completely the wrong tree with this one.

“Right.” John replied, determined.

The others cheered. The lessons continued. John, no matter how much hard work it would take, would learn how to skate.

It was Christmas Eve. It should have been easy; one final morning of work, an afternoon of shopping with all of their hard-earned cash and then off home to enjoy Christmas with their Father and Grandmother. Yes, it should have been easy.

The last week and a half had been fun for them all. While Virgil and Scott were still going out of their way to hide what they were doing from each other, for no good reason whatsoever, they were both enjoying the fact that they no longer had to hide things from their other brothers. It had made work more fun and taken the pressure off of everything. Jeff had even given in and told Grandma what they were all up to, not being able to handle any more of her fretting and scrutinising looks.

Virgil had been alternating his nights between John and Gordon. Odds were skating lessons, evens were ‘getting to know you’ sessions with Bessie the reindeer ahead of her expected reappearance today at the mall’s annual Christmas Eve ‘Spectacular’, an event held out in the parking lot where families could enjoy a morning of fun with Santa while skating on the ice-rink and seeing what the stores had to showcase. Both the skating and the Bessie sessions were going exceptionally well. Virgil was now able to actually stand next to Bessie for a good amount of time with nothing more that the odd angry snort aimed in his direction. Gordon had done a good job in researching the best techniques to work with the animals and bringing them into his job.

Meanwhile, John’s skating skills had somehow surpassed all of the others’ combined. He was now zipping around the rink like he had been born in a pair of skates, ducking and diving with the grace of a seasoned dancer all while corralling and organising the crowds to wherever he needed them to be. The people he worked with could barely believe the change, let alone John himself, but he loved it.

After his training camp had come to an end, Gordon had joined Alan in spending his mornings at the mall, allowing the youngest Tracy to leave the confines of the Café and up his client list on the personal shopping business. By the time today had come around and with all the brothers helping out where they could, they had probably delivered the shopping for over half the population of their town, they were so busy. Word of this website and the good it was doing in helping people who couldn’t get out for themselves had spread fast and the tips were flowing in to match.

Then there was Scott. It had taken the whole three weeks - a long and hard process with many, many bruises and practices - but Helena had persevered with her training of him and by God, the boy had finally mastered the dancing. For the first time, just this morning, Scott Tracy had made it through an entire cheer routing without stepping one single foot out of line. So happy was he, that he no longer cared about their upcoming showcase performance at the Spectacular, which was due to start any minute now. He was proud of his achievement and happy to show it off, even in his little sparkly blue uniform and to a crowd which was expected to be a good thirty times bigger than any he had ‘performed’ in front of previously. Also, the hug Helena had given him as they had finished their practice was a very welcome addition and something he hoped to replicate again at the earliest opportunity.

Right now, as Scott and Helena were waiting on the side-lines of the marked-out performance area for their turn to be called, straight after the local children’s choir, what they weren’t aware of was the two new faces that had just joined the crowd.

“Are you sure the boys won’t mind us being here, Jeff? I’d hate for Scott to get nervous if he knew we were watching,” Grandma asked.

“He’ll be fine Mom. He doesn’t know Virgil is out here either so if anything, it will be spotting him that throws Scott off, not us.”

“And I assume Virgil doesn’t know that Scott is going to be out here, either?”

“I’d guess not. I don’t think Virgil is too happy at being outside amongst all these crowds in that outfit as it is. You know he hadn’t even realised the Spectacular had been moved outside this year until Gordon dropped the bombshell this morning.”

“Oh dear,” Grandma tutted.

“Hhm. Speaking of Deer,” Jeff nodded over to where a very large livestock container had just pulled up. “This doesn’t look good.”

“I thought Coach Ashford was loaning Bessie for this event? Gordon and Virgil have been working so hard with her all week to make sure we don’t have a repeat of last week’s ‘incident’.”

“That was the plan as I understood it. Come on, we have a couple of minutes until Scott’s up, let’s go check it out.”

Steering his mother through the hoards of people, Jeff and Grandma soon reached the area where the truck had pulled up, only to find a very angry Coach Ashford and Mr Rafferty arguing with some management type in an ill-fitting suit. Behind them, a team of mall staff were helping unload a heard of exactly nine, gigantic reindeer, none of whom looked pleased to be there. As the reindeer were strung together and harnessed on to the front of the Mall’s fake sleigh, Bessie and Gordon were not-so-delicately shoved aside.

“Gordon, everything okay?” Jeff asked, dropping an arm protectively onto his boy’s shoulder.

“Mall are saying that because of what happened with Virge that we’re not allowed to have Bessie here anymore. I told them that she’s fine now and that it was all just a misunderstanding before but they don’t believe me. They’re saying we have to take her away and that they’ve hired in some other reindeer for the Grotto to use, even though the Coach has been doing this gig, like, forever.”

It was true. Jeff had seen Virgil out here with Bessie not five minutes ago before his boy had disappeared off inside to help ready the presents for the children and everything had been fine. It was a sight he had never expected to see with his second eldest given his…history.

Behind them, the argument between the Coach, Rafferty and the mall management team was heating up and beginning to draw attention.

“Gordon, why don’t you run and secure Bessie in her trailer for a little while so she’s safe out of the way. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.”

But there wasn’t. No amount of bartering would persuade the management team to risk using a reindeer that had a track record for violence, especially when they had a team of nine brand new ones all strung up and ready to go. No matter how rough-looking and untamed they appeared to be, pulling against their reins and reluctant to listen to their handlers.

“They’ll hurt the reindeer if they keep treating them like that,” Gordon commented angrily as he returned to the scene.

“I know Son,” the Coach said, “but there’s nothing we can do about it this time. Looks like it’s the end of the line for me and old Bessie.”

Nothing they could do about it? They obviously didn’t know Gordon Tracy very well. As another of the handlers slapped an angry hand down on one of the disobedient reindeer, Gordon decided enough was enough. Jumping up onto the sleigh, he proceeded to stand right on the front of it, blocking Santa’s view entirely and stopping them from going anywhere anytime soon. Behind Gordon, Santa looked towards Mr Rafferty for direction.

“I’m not moving until they unhook those reindeer. They’ve not been prepared for this. They’re dangerous and they shouldn’t be here,” Gordon proclaimed.

“He’s right!” the Coach called up in support. “You tell ’em, boy.”

Over on the far side of the parking lot, music began blaring out as Scott and Helena were announced into the performance zone and Thompson’s Sporting Goods began their Showcase.

“Jeff, the show’s starting,” Grandma called.

Jeff had no idea what to do by this point. Should he be proud of his boy for taking a stand or worried at the precariousness of his current situation? What he had failed to realise was that Gordon wasn’t the son he should have been concerned about at this point in time at all. No, because off in the distance and making his way back out into the parking lot along with Mel, his co-Elf, was the number one most hated man in the big-animal kingdom: Virgil Tracy.

“Oh heck.” Jeff declared as he watched his son suddenly freeze, spotting the animals from where he stood. Next to Jeff, he sensed the feeling was mutual as every single one of those nine raring reindeer began to stiffen and rise up to their full-height, ready for a showdown.

As Virgil slowly crouched to the ground, depositing the gifts he had been carrying into a safe space, he then began to – as delicately as possible without spooking the creatures any further – encourage Mel to begin stepping away from him. He knew she must have foreseen the danger too, as she didn’t even bother to put up a fight like she normally would have, instead listening carefully to Virgil’s every instruction and getting herself well out of his way. Coming back up to a stand, there was a brief moment where both sides took stock of their chances, as had happened previously with Bessie and all those that had sadly come before her. Then it was on.

“Virgil, run!!” Both Jeff and Gordon called out, but by this point it was too late and both reindeer and sleigh were already hurtling across the carpark toward the vulnerable Tracy, Gordon flying back from the force of their ignition and landing sprawled in Santa’s lap as they were both dragged along for the ride.

“Oh Sh - !” Virgil began, but didn’t get a chance to finish the thought as the pack of raging animals came charging towards him.

He tried to look for a safe escape route, he really did, but there was just nowhere to go. There were people literally everywhere. He couldn’t even see a way back into the building. To stand and face the pack would mean absolute and certain death by trampling. Not good. He would maybe save a few people in the process, if he was lucky, but given the speed the animals were coming there was no way they would be able to stop at just him and he was currently stood in front of a very, very big crowd. There was only one thing for it and Virgil did exactly what his Father and Brother had said: he ran.

Looking for the clearest route, Virgil took off in a sprint or as close to a sprint he could manage in those ridiculous Elf shoes. He leapt tables, dodged stalls and screamed out to people left and right to get out of the way but it was no good. Every way that Virgil went, the reindeer followed. Gordon did his best from the sleigh to grab the reins and help steer but the beasts were just too strong and he and Santa were thrown around on the ride of their lives. Dragged all the way around the back of the main crowds and behind the performance zone, all involved suddenly realised there was nowhere else to go but across into the marked-out staging area and hope the spectators on the other side had time to clear them a path before anyone got hurt.

Around them, the Spectacular was in utter chaos as Mall staff did their best to evacuate the wider area. John had heard the call over the radio and was desperately trying to help clear the ice rink. He didn’t know what the issue was, only that they needed to get everyone inside, and fast. So that’s just what he did. Jeff, Grandma, the Coach and Mr Rafferty watched from afar as the mayhem unfolded. The performers and spectators at the centre carried on, oblivious under the sounds of the music system until Virgil’s cry for them to GET OUT OF THE WAY finally made it through. The crowd screamed but made a hole. Scott and Helena spun mid-routine just in time for Virgil the Elf to come flying through the centre of them, both Scott and Virgil’s eyes going wide with the shock at seeing each other. Virgil didn’t have time to stop though. On he went, as fast as he possible could. He didn’t need to look back to know that the animals were gaining on him. Luckily for Scott, he managed to recover and pull himself together in just enough time to grab Helena and throw them both to the side to safety as nine charging reindeer, Gordon, Santa and their runaway sleigh came barrelling through at top speed and waiting for no-one. Picking themselves up, Scott grabbed Helena by the hand and ushered her towards him. “Come on,” he called as they left the bewildered crowd and took off in pursuit of the sleigh.

John was the last to see it coming. He and his team – yes, they were all working under his instruction now, despite his young age – had cleared the ice. There should have been nothing more to do except to clear themselves also, but the second John saw exactly what the problem was, he knew what he had to do. Surveying the remaining people around the parking lot, he found his pattern and mapped out the moves; the best way through. Then he called out to Virgil. As loud and hard as his voice could carry, he screeched down the ice rink’s PA system, calling his brother to him and hopefully to safety.

It was like a beacon from the heavens, his little brother’s voice. Just as Virgil was running out of steam, losing the fight and the will to keep going, there it was: John’s calming tones. He knew where he had to go now. John had by this point coordinated the rest of his team out into the parking lot to clear them a way through. Virgil saw it. He also saw John, out waiting for him on the ice. With one last burst of energy of the sort that could only come from a brother, or four, spurring you on; he ran.

Leaping the barrier at the last second, Virgil crashed straight into the arms of his waiting brother, who manoeuvred them both as carefully as he could at breakneck speed down onto the ice where they eventually slid to a stop in the centre. Thankfully taking so many falls in the early days had taught John how to do it right. On the other side of the barriers, the reindeer came to a screeching halt, unable to jump due to their tight harnesses and with no further place to go as their prize was now out of reach. As they veered off to the side in the final slow to a full stop, Santa’s sleigh followed suit, whipping around and crashing into the side of the rink where Gordon and Santa also leapt their way to safety. Behind that, two Cheerleaders joined them, Scott pausing only briefly to expertly propel his female ‘flyer’ companion up onto his hands where she could safely dismount herself on the other side, ice be damned. She had made Scott put up with a whole lot for her in these last few weeks, so she would absolutely stick by him now. It was a slipping, sliding mop of blonde that hurtled out of the café and straight across the ice to became the final member of the tiny and exhausted group, little Alan having watched the whole thing unfold from where John had shunted him to safety and determined to make sure he still had all four brothers at the end of it.

As a smiling Virgil starfished himself out on the ice to catch his breath and Scott did his rounds checking on the others, it wasn’t Jeff and Grandma that made it to them first. No, it was the Manager of the Mall himself. Oblivious to his duties of checking on the welfare of his staff and with limited knowledge of what had actually transpired other than the gawping crowds and trail of destruction that led right to the little Tracy pile, his one and only thought was to make sure someone took the blame and it sure wasn’t going to be him. With a roaring “YOU’RE ALL FIRED!!” which was followed just a few minutes later by a lifetime ban for a one ‘Mr Virgil Tracy’, the man was gone, off to work damage control before the press arrived. The boys just took one look at each other and laughed. No-one had gotten hurt, everyone was alive and they were all back together as one at last, no more secrets. Life was good, and that was how Jeff and Grandma found them all: one big Tracy hug, plus Helena the Cheerleader…and Santa.

A couple hours later in the sanctuary of the local diner and sat directly below a big-screen TV which seemed intent on replaying a multitude of mobile-phone-filmed coverage of the morning’s disaster, Grandma, Jeff and the boys all sat. A giant plate of nachos filled the centre of the table, surrounded by seven large milkshakes. The boys chatted away happily amongst themselves, commenting as the footage on the TV depicted every detail of what had happened from Bessie’s eviction and Gordon’s heroic stand-up for animal (and farmer’s) rights, to Scott’s mainstage performance to John’s expert clearance of a previously overcrowded ice rink. For Jeff and Grandma, it was a sight to behold. How his little pack could cause so much destruction in the space of only a couple minutes was mind blowing, but there it was in full-colour for all the world to see. Lord only knew the heights they could scale if they ever banded together in something planned and productive, if this was the impact they had by pure accident. He smiled to himself at that thought. In actual fact, he couldn’t wait to see it.

As the excitement eventually began to die down, the conversation turned to something much more sobering.

“So Coach Ashford lost his contract with the Mall, because of me?” Virgil asked.

“No, not because of you, son. Because establishments like that just can’t afford to take the risk. I know we all joke about it just being you that these things happen to, but before Gordon took the time to work with her, Bessie could have easily decided to attack any member of the public or to run wild, just like those others did.”

“Dad, she wouldn’t,” Gordon interjected, but was cut off by his Father.

“Maybe not Gordon, but you can’t possibly say for sure. All you can do is work with her, just like you have done, to minimise the risk.”

“Fat lot of good it did, the Coach still lost the work.”

“And we all got fired.”

“And Virge got banned for life.”

“And the Spectacular got ruined, so none of the kids got to enjoy the fun or see Santa.”

“And the Mall is shut for the rest of the day, so after all that saving, we didn’t even get to buy our presents.”

“That’s not quite true,” Virgil spoke up, “I went and picked up Ellie’s necklace on Wednesday to give it to her early.”

“And?”

“And she put it on, made some comment about how she made it look good, then dumped me for not spending any time with her for the last three weeks and for being an Elf.”

“But you were only doing it for her!” Scott cried out in his brother’s defence.

“Well, not quite, I was doing it for you guys too, but I guess that plan went out the window. Think I’m better off anyway. All she cared about was how she looked and what other people thought. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last three weeks, it’s that all that stuff doesn’t even matter.” Elf Virgil smiled over at Scott, still in full Cheerleader uniform, matching hair glitter and face gems to boot.

“I second that. Let’s never keep secrets like that again Virge. Man, that took so much effort, and for what?”

“Finally!” Grandma declared. “All that sneaking around and bravado – foolishness, the lot of it and no good for my health. I for one am just glad all you boys are back on the same side and talking to each other again.”

“But what about the presents? It’s Christmas tomorrow and we haven’t got each other anything?” Gordon asked.

“Boys, Christmas is not all about the presents. This is what I was trying to teach you all along,” Jeff explained, “somewhere along the way, after your mother passed…us Tracy’s lost our way. We lost sight of what was important. I want you to look back over the last three week’s and tell me what you’ve enjoyed the most.”

“I liked spending time with you again Dad,” Scott took the lead and began, seeing that the others needed that push to step forwards, “all that time we all thought we were being so clever, hiding things. But you knew everything. You were just so calm and in control and you taught me how to be like that too. I’ll really need that, next year, when I’m off at the academy. Then there was hanging out with Gords. It made me remember my time with Gramps, doing the same when I was Gordon’s age. Plus, it was nice to pass that knowledge on; to know that Gramp’s teachings are still going.”

“That was fun for me too,” Gordon replied. “I really like all that animal stuff now, it’s interesting. I don’t normally get to make a difference like that, but Bessie really listened to me.”

“Yeah, thankfully for me! I finally got to stand next to something bigger than a cat without it wanting to tear me to pieces! I really enjoyed our sessions too, Gords.” Virgil said. “Also, I know I was a bit of a misery to begin with about the whole Elf thing, but I really did like working with the kids, you know, making the magic real, seeing the smiles. That was nice. Despite the silly outfit.”

“It really isn’t all that bad,” Grandma offered.

“Don’t be so sure Grandma, you didn’t see the first one!”

A flying nacho made its way from Virgil to a grinning Gordon’s head.

“What about you, John?” Jeff asked before things could get too off-topic.

“Finally learning to skate after all these years. It will be fun to come out with you guys on the pond now, not just stay inside and watch or miss out completely like I used to. Thanks Virgil. The lessons were great. Plus, Coach Ashford saw the footage of me evacuating the rink and offered me a spot on the hockey team next season.”

“One of the cool kids now, hey Johnny? No more Math camp for you, huh?” Scott teased.

“There’s always time for Math, Scott. In fact, I hear that skating and Math go hand in hand.” John smiled at Virgil, who winked.

“And what about you, Alan?” Grandma asked, noting that the youngest Tracy had been unusually quiet so far.

Looking around at the happiness on his family’s faces, all the boy could do was smile. “I just liked us all hanging out and working together. Usually you guys are all off doing your own things and I get shunted away.” The others looked down at the table, dismayed and knowing there was a truth in that, something which from this point onwards would certainly change. “It was fun having everyone together again.”

The boys, Dad and Grandma all smiled at each other, knowingly, before sharing a few one-armed hugs and affectionate nudges.

“Plus, there’s this,” Alan declared as he then preceded to slap the biggest roll of cash the boys had ever seen in real-life down on the table in front of him, leaving the others speechless.

“Alan,” Jeff began, filling the stunned silence that surrounded him. “Where did you get all that money, son?”

“From the website. My website. John helped me build it.”

“YOUR website?!!” The boys all chorused at once. “You mean, the one we’ve been delivering orders for these last two weeks? You came up with that?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah, I got the idea that first day when I was stuck at Jarod’s, helping his Nan with her online shopping. Then John helped me build it and I worked out the orders while he was skating.”

“Hold up,” Gordon was not happy about this, “you mean that whole time we were running around shopping and delivering to people’s houses, we were actually working for YOU?!”

“Yeah, it was real fun, getting to be you guy’s Boss,” Alan beamed.

The boys had no more words. Grandma, however, did.

“Unbelievable! Jefferson, your boy’s an extortionist!”

“No, mother, he’s a businessman. And a damned good one from the looks of all that cash.” Jeff smiled at Alan as the boy grinned back in delight. The others laughed.

“But Ally, how did you get all that? I thought we were working for tips?”

“We were, mostly. But I also added a booking fee to the website, plus a couple other optional extras people could choose.”

“Genius.”

“I’ll say.”

“But what do I do with it now? The Mall is shut so I can’t but anything.”

“Well,” Scott began, “assuming we’re all happy not doing actual physical presents this year - or ever again for that matter - which after the last few minutes conversation I’m pretty sure we all are, then I might have an idea. It will need everyone willing to contribute though, and it will probably take a whole lot of hard work…”

But that was all it took. The trust was back and with their new-found Christmas spirit full to the brim, the boys had no issues whatsoever in pooling their earnings and jumping on board to follow their big brother in executing his next plan and the very next day, Christmas Day, the first ever Ashford farm Winter family festival was born. Bessie the reindeer met all the local children, supported by her favourite helper Gordon. Santa arrived in his newly-refurbished sleigh and helped by his two best Elves, one of whom was much too tall to be an Elf but loved the job so much he did it anyway, face paint and all. He was even rather starting to like that garish shade of Elf green. Ashford’s pond became the coolest new ice-rink around, marshalled by a team recently poached from the local mall and headed up by the best new skater around. Two rogue cheerleaders took selfies with anyone who wanted them, because apparently there were many, #ScottieTheCheerleadingHottie trending once again. At a suggested donation of $1 a go, the proceeds were all later donated to the local nursing home, expertly delivered by the youngest (and also most successful and popular amongst the residents) new entrepreneur in town. It was the most family fun Christmas the Tracy’s had had in years, along with a multitude of other families to boot, many of whom needed it just as much as they did. It was also the start of many, many more yet to come.

Epilogue

Ten years later on a little tropical Island far out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, another family-fun Tracy Christmas is coming to a close.

Alan looks over the portraits of his brothers, one by one. They are his role models; his best friends. He is both the luckiest person in the world and the most privileged that he gets to work alongside them, doing what they do, bringing help to those who aren’t always able to help themselves. Sometimes he jokes that he misses the time, albeit brief, when his brothers all worked for him, but in reality – he wouldn’t have things any other way.

Gordon is over on the far side of the island, lovingly tending to the rockpool ecosystem he has been nurturing ever since their arrival, just as he does every other day, Christmas or not. He cares for his little habitat in the same loving and caring way he deals with every situation he comes across, because it matters, he matters and helping in any way you can, no matter how small or how hard the work; matters.

Virgil is back in his room looking over reports. There had still been a few rescues amongst all the usual Tracy Christmas fun. There always is. But it is the smiles of the children Virgil remembers as he thinks back over the events of the day; the ones who were scared for a moment that they might lose everything but then somehow got their Christmas miracle after all. Sometimes down to him and his big, green bird. He loves that he is able to give them that. Above him, on the wall, hangs a tinsel framed letter that he takes out with the decorations every year. A fond reminder of a time gone by: his official, written banning from the Kansas City Mall.

Scott smiles fondly as he thinks back on the day and runs a hand over the polished wooden surface of his father’s old desk. It is mostly his now, but it is also the place he feels most connected to the man who taught him everything he could possibly ever need to know. He is still in uniform, recently returned from a rescue himself, and into the desk draw he places the special sash he uses only on this one day every year; the one that he uses to remind himself what is truly important at the heart of it all: his family. The blue one with the little sparkly rhinestones on it.

John has returned to Thunderbird Five and glides gracefully around the holoprojections and equipment, spotting patterns and working the room like a pro, ensuring the world – his brothers included - is all sleeping peacefully, tucked in and safe.

Grandma is asleep in her bed in a haze of love and eggnog, content to be with her boys and that in ten years, not one of them has changed other than to grow more and more into the beautiful, strong, loving team she has always known them to be.

Jeff watches over them all collectively, the proudest Father in the world, the solar system, the universe, and all the space beyond...

And their mother, well, even though they may have lost their way without her for a short while. They all found their way back in the end and she will always be there, at the centre of it all, firmly in their hearts.

What matters most is family.

And occasionally, for some, not getting trampled by a heard of runaway reindeer.

Merry Christmas Everyone.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2019 #thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy

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noblesisterhood · 4 years

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Tales of Valhalla (#2) | Drabble

Length: 1.5k words

Warning: No warnings. :)

Preview: “Is that Krista? Smiling?”

Sygnet emerged from a stall, arms laden with a voluminous mound of fabrics. The bolts stuck out every which way behind her, only tenuously remaining in her grasp as she wove fluidly through the bustling market crowd. A passing man bumped Sygnet’s arm without apology, and some of the material went flying.

“Careful!” Krista lunged forward, just barely catching the wayward bolts before they could hit the ground and become trampled—and considerably less valuable. Sygnet shouted an insult to the man’s back before adjusting her grasp on the material that hadn’t slipped.

The Vanar market practically buzzed with life. Fabric draped over stalls and stretched across the mingling space in between so that the sunlight skipped between the vibrantly dyed hanging scarves, throwing light in irregular patterns throughout the place and reflecting off of bejeweled lamps and shining kettles.

In the midst of all the chaos stood a girl in her black coat, her reddish-gold hair hanging straight down to her waist. Her dark outfit contrasted against the warmly colored garb that most of the bustling market-goers wore, though she paid no attention as she stared absent-mindedly at the same pair of slippers—and had been for the past fifteen minutes. The annoyed shopkeeper had given up on catching her attention a while ago.

“Is that Krista? Smiling?”

“Sorry about that—”

“What took you so long?” Krista interrupted, her expression icy once more as she scooped the fabric closer to her chest protectively. Her fingers trickled over each fabric sample out of habit—the very soft, very black wool for outer-layers; the creamy, blonde-colored linen for under-layers; and the dark, smooth goldenrod silk for more elaborate trimmings.

Sygnet pursed her lips at being interrupted but gave a willowy gesture back to the stall she had just left.

“The man—” she began, exasperated already at having to recount their encounter, “—had the gall to stand there and count out each and every coin I gave him in payment, and these fabrics, as I know you are aware, were costly, so it took some time.”

Krista made a face at that. “Why would he insist on—”

“Well,” Sygnet interrupted now, “I don’t believe he cared for me very much.”

The other woman opened her mouth to respond, but Sygnet cut her off before she could start.

“And now I know what you must be thinking: ‘Sygnet, what could he possibly find displeasing about you?’”

“That really wasn’t what—”

“I suspect that somehow he recognized me.” The woman flicked a long strand of dark hair over her shoulder, her jeweled rings clinking together at the movement.

Krista snorted a laugh under her breath, eying up the flashy, bright metallic gold of the woman’s dress and the numerous scarves arranged elaborately around her shoulders. Hair pins flashed bright hues of garnet and citrine in her glossy hair, and the simultaneous clinking of her rings and coin purse turned heads if any aspect of her outfit failed to.

“You are very memorable, Sygnet,” she admitted, and the older woman smiled a brilliant pearl smile at that, “though I still do not understand how that could lead to a man distrusting your coin. If anything, it ought to have done the opposite.”

Sygnet nodded absently at the girl’s conclusion. Taking the lead, she hurried them forward while there was a gap in the current of the crowd, streaming towards the exit nearest where their ship was docked and awaiting their return. A moment passed in silence as Krista focused on attempting to pass through the crowd without bumping shoulders with the busy shoppers.

“He would find me no more trustworthy than my own family would, likely,” she finally answered as the crowd thinned out.

Krista whipped her head away from a stall pushing crystallized honey crisp-cakes and expensive tea to instead seek Valhalla’s Keeper of Coin. “Your family?”

Sygnet nodded again, this time turning to find the girl’s face. “We are from here,” she gestured around them at the stalls draped in shades of lapis and gold and topaz. “We had a family shop I used to work, as well. We sold jewels and jewelry, precious metals … anything valuable, really.”

“You suddenly make much more sense,” the younger girl pulled a face.

Sygnet’s laugh rumbled deep in her chest at that.

“And imagine their luck once they realized my abilities to count coin by merely setting them in the center of my palm! I could also approximate a jewel’s worth, as well. Precious metals are a little trickier, but I come much closer than anyone else without my gifts. I’d never seen my parents so happy—or rich.”

The smell of cooked lamb and spices overtook them as more stalls faded from luxurious silken golds to a softer, buttery yellow. The food stalls were also much busier, and Krista sidled up a little closer to Sygnet’s side as once again people pushed up against her in their haste to move around the slower-moving Valkyries.

“So,” Krista ventured, turning the idea over in her head, “you made your parents rich, but they still didn’t trust you?”

Sygnet’s gaze fell upon the clearing beyond two pillars—the exit where cobblestone fell off to a dusty orange-tan sand. Her thoughts seemed to extend beyond even this, however.

“They didn’t want me to leave,” she said simply, though her sharpened nails sunk into the cool feel of the fabrics she carried. “It was never my seithr they distrusted—it was my intentions once I realized I didn’t want to work a shop stall forever. My passions lied elsewhere, though, despite my reassurances otherwise, they suspected I was going open my own shop to undercut their business.”

“And you never considered doing so?” Krista asked, unaccusatory but curious in her questioning.

Sygnet barked a laugh at that, her nails easing back from the fabric. “Oh no, absolutely not. I want to wear jewels—not sell them.”

Krista laughed long now too, her smile lingering on her small mouth even after she quieted once more.

“That does sound more like you,” she admitted.

“Yes, I know,” Sygnet breathed out another laugh, “though my parents would hear none of it. They swore to our family—and our entire community—that I was lying, which isn’t necessarily uncommon here on Vanaheim—” she shrugged, “—but once you develop a reputation of untrustworthiness, it’s difficult to prove otherwise.”

Krista soaked in the information, saying nothing but thinking over this new side to Sygnet she had yet to encounter.

“Allying myself with Lady Freyja also did not help me much,” Sygnet continued.

The girl looked up at that.

“But she’s from Vanaheim,” Krista objected, “and the daughter of Lord Njord, a law-giver here. A respected law-giver, I’d heard. How could that not help?”

Sygnet shook her head.

“She might be from a respected Vanir family, but she married an Asgardian,” she tried to explain, “and attached herself to him when it was still … unpopular, politically. She also never returned home once he passed. Instead, she went to a dead realm and, I believe the word I have heard used is lured, Vanir daughters away from their families to join her.”

“Lured? Really, that is just ridiculous—”

“Valhalla is a noble fate from the tales of Asgard, not Vanaheim,” Sygnet gave a small smile for her reaction. “Our idea of death and passing, of the afterlife, is much different. Living in the realm of the dead comes across as a bit … deranged to many here, I suppose. We’re turning their daughters and wives into death witches.”

Krista pursed her lips at the phrase. “I suppose.”

A silence settled between the two as they came upon the exit at last. Krista gave one more look to the older woman leading the way still, an entirely new person it felt to her. She noticed now too how the crowd made a point to keep their distance from the woman, giving her both a wide berth and sharp expressions of distaste. Sygnet raised her hand in greeting to them, the gold ring of her oath to the Sisterhood branded around her forefinger flashing in the sunlight. Those who caught sight of the thing startled before making a faster pace in the opposite direction. Krista’s own oath brand tingled where it sat at the base of her neck.

“Sygnet?” the girl asked as they exited through the towering pillars.

“Hm?”

“Why haven’t you told me any of this before? You practically haunt my studio when I’m trying to work.” Sand slid beneath her boots unevenly so that she had to step delicately.

Sygnet gave a small, defensive scoff, her stride remaining confident. “Haunting! I just like knowing what new clothes the Valkyrior will be endowed.”

Her eyes flickered between the silent younger girl and the docking area ahead of them and back again.

“Why haven’t I told you?” she started again. “Why haven’t you told me what it is you were smiling about? It’s a matter of … trust. And vulnerability.” She cleared her throat.

“The reason I was smiling?” Krista turned to her, a grin beginning to spread. “Well, if you’d like to know … his name is Hercules.”

#tales of valhalla #sygnet #krista

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bountyofbeads · 5 years

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Hong Kong riot police, armed with pepper spray and batons, clash with protesters at airport

https://wapo.st/2P34EQO

Trump is silent on the pro-democracy protesters in both Hong Kong and in Moscow. As a *Beacon of Democracy", the silence of Trump is deafening. SHAME SHAME SHAME

White House delays some new China tariffs until Dec. 15

By Damian Paletta and Heather Long |

Published August 13 at 12:15 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted August 13, 2019 12:50 PM ET |

The White House on Tuesday said it would delay imposing tariffs on Chinese imports of cellphones, laptop computers, video game consoles, and certain types of footwear and clothing until Dec. 15, significantly later than the Sept. 1 deadline President Trump had repeatedly threatened.

The announcement, which came from the Office of the U.S. Trade Representative, ensures that Apple products and other major consumer goods would be shielded from the import tax until at least December, potentially keeping costs on these products down during the holiday shopping season.

The announcement moved stocks sharply higher. The Dow Jones industrial average climbed close to 500 points, or nearly 2 percent, on the news. The stock prices of Apple, Best Buy, Mattel and Macy’s were among those that rallied on the announcement.

Trump told reporters that he delayed the tariffs “just in case” they would have a negative impact on U.S. shoppers this holiday season.

“What we’ve done is we’ve delayed it so they won’t be relevant in the Christmas shopping season,” Trump said before boarding a flight to Pennsylvania.

His comments marked the most explicit admission he’s made so far that the tariffs could have raised costs for American consumers and businesses and had a negative impact on the economy.

A number of companies had petitioned to the White House to exempt items they import from the new tariffs, saying the costs would be either passed along to the consumer or threaten the solvency of individual firms.

USTR said the 10 percent tariff would still go into effect in September on some items, including many food products, gloves, coats and suits. But it said tariffs on other items would be waived completely “based on health, safety, national security and other factors.”

Trump, in a Twitter post and comments to reporters, suggested that the announcement was meant as an overture to Chinese officials.

“I’m not sure if it was the tariffs or the call, but the call was very productive,” Trump said, referring to a conversation this week between top Chinese and U.S. negotiators.

But he added a warning on Twitter that China needs to buy more from the United States, “As usual, China said they were going to be buying ‘big’ from our great American Farmers. So far they have not done what they said. Maybe this will be different!”

USTR provided a list of products that were exempted and would face the delayed tariff implementation date, which included highchairs, strollers, cell phones and many toys.

The announcement is the latest in a herky-jerky trade war between the White House and China. Trump has levied tariffs on $250 billion in Chinese imports, beginning last year, as he has tried to pressure Chinese leaders to change their trade practices. Chinese officials have negotiated but refused to agree to the terms Trump has demanded, leading to a prolonged standoff.

Trump has frequently threatened dramatic penalties, however, only to back away. His threat of imposing a 10 percent tariff on an additional $300 billion in Chinese imports starting next month spooked investors and many lawmakers, and it has led to a steady slide in the stock market in the past two weeks.

“These tariffs were Trump’s idea. Now his team is trying to clean this up,” said Steve Pavlick, a former Trump Treasury Department official who is now head of policy at Renaissance Macro Research. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you see this right before Christmas. They are trying to minimize the impact.”

Many businesses had worried that higher tariffs on consumer goods ahead of the Christmas shopping season could severely damage the economy at a time when some are warning that the risk of a recession next year has increased.

Trump has pressed China for months to change its trade practices, calling on it to change the way it subsidizes domestic companies, among other things. The White House has also accused China of stealing intellectual property from U.S. companies and forcing U.S. firms to transfer technology to Chinese firms.

But Trump’s demands in recent weeks have shifted, a sign of the political peril that the prolonged trade war has raised.

Trump had originally threatened to impose these new tariffs on $300 billion in consumer goods by early July, but at a June meeting with Chinese President Xi Jinping, Trump agreed to hold off. At the meeting, held during the Group of 20 summit in Osaka, Japan, Trump said the Chinese had agreed to dramatically increase purchases of U.S. agricultural goods, a nod to the U.S. farm industry that had become increasingly incensed about being caught in the middle of the trade war.

But Chinese officials never agreed to purchase the farm products Trump had promised, and this soon became clear to the U.S. agriculture industry.

Several weeks ago, U.S. Trade Representative Robert E. Lighthizer and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin flew to Shanghai to meet with Chinese leaders about restarting trade negotiations. Those discussions went poorly, people briefed on the outcome said.

Trump had recently said that the Chinese seemed intent to wait until after the 2020 election before they would cut a deal with him, and he seemed content with that. But when he heard back from Mnuchin and Lighthizer about how poorly the trip had gone, he announced that he would move ahead with the 10 percent tariff on $300 billion in Chinese goods in September.

USTR’s announcement on Tuesday that it would delay the imposition of these tariffs on some of the most popular consumer goods was the first sign that Trump was backing down from this demand.

Still, the mid-December tariff deadline could raise fears among major retailers and importers about higher costs during a crucial window for revenue.

“It would be a whole lot easier if the tariffs started in January,” said Win Cramer, chief executive of JLab Audio, which makes wireless headphones and ear buds. “It would still be awful, but the fact of the matter is our holiday promotions, which are with every major retailer nationwide, are already designed and ready for print.”

Hong Kong riot police, armed with pepper spray and batons, clash with protesters at airport

By Gerry Shih and Timothy McLaughlin| Published August 13 at 11:49 AM ET | Washington Post | Posted August 13, 2019 12:52 PM ET |

HONG KONG — Riot police armed with pepper spray and batons clashed with protesters late Tuesday at Hong Kong’s airport, bringing violence to the doors of the key international hub while passengers remained stranded inside after many departing flights were canceled.

Anti-government protesters brought chaos to the airport for a second consecutive day Tuesday as demonstrators extended their standoff with authorities who have been unable to quell months of dissent. Protesters forced the cancellation of flights by cramming into terminals and refusing to let passengers through, sparking confrontations with travelers desperate to return home.

Later in the evening, a group of demonstrators also seized a man they suspected to be an undercover Chinese police officer, cable-tied his hands and refused to let him through a large crowd. The incident showed increasing brazenness on the part of demonstrators in confronting what they perceive as symbols of the Chinese state.

Police entered the airport to help the man, whom paramedics tried to remove on a stretcher. The presence of officers sparked chaos, as protesters spilled out of the airport and began attacking police vans with officers inside.

At one point, an officer was overrun and his baton taken by protesters, who beat him with it. The group retreated only after the officer appeared to pull his gun from its holster.

After mass cancellations Monday evening, flights had been gradually returning to normal throughout Tuesday, even as thousands of black-clad demonstrators returned to occupy parts of the airport, carrying placards denouncing police brutality and calling for freedom for Hong Kong.

But by late afternoon, with protesters using luggage carts as makeshift barricades and blocking passengers from reaching the departure gates, causing long lines, authorities said they were suspending check-in at both of the airport’s terminals.

Arguments erupted between frustrated passengers and protesters, with some stranded passengers crying and saying they just wanted to get home.

Pavol Cacara, a Slovakian machinery importer who faced off with protesters, said his flight to Istanbul was canceled once already.

“You cannot make freedom by taking freedom from others!” he bellowed, shaking with rage, at a mass of young demonstrators in black T-shirts. “This is what the Chinese want you to do, to make you lose support of the world. You are helping them!”

Tensions soared. As Cacara fumed, some protesters tried to calm him down and offered to help him find alternate flights while others pleaded with him to see Hong Kong’s plight. “You don’t die if you leave! We will die here!” called a voice in the rear.

After a 20-minute standoff, protesters parted to form a narrow channel to let a few passengers through. “Thank you for understanding. Please tell the world!” one yelled after Cacara.

A more disturbing scene began taking shape later in the day when a group of protesters surrounded a man they believed to be an undercover police officer from Shenzhen, the Chinese city across the border from Hong Kong. There was no confirmation of the man’s identity or profession, but the protesters did not let him move or leave for hours.

The man appeared to fall unconscious, but protesters refused to let paramedics through. When about half a dozen paramedics reached him, they struggled to move him through the crush of protesters that formed around them. Those closest to the melee held their phones aloft and tried to film the struggling man. Some protesters jeered and laughed at the man. Paramedics also pleaded with protesters to hand them water to give him as he sat motionless on the ground.

Protesters held a handmade sign over the man that read in English, “I am China’s police. I pretend to be protester,” as he struggled to remain conscious.

Earlier, some protesters chanted “return the eye” — a reference to an incident Sunday night when a young woman was shot in the eye, possibly by a bean bag round, during a clash between police and protesters. Senior officers said Tuesday they were unsure how the woman was injured but could not promise that she would not be charged with rioting.

Police said they were closely monitoring the situation at the airport, working with airport authorities, and would carefully consider the need to use force.

Confusion descended over the airport by evening as passengers tried to scale barricades of luggage carts and human walls formed by protesters, who tried to hold them off with outstretched arms.

Still, the confrontations stopped short of violence. Time and again, protesters scolded their peers when tempers flared. Chants of “Lang jing!” — Calm down! — rang through the departure hall when arguments threatened to boil over.

Roving teams of protesters handed snacks to stranded passengers and appealed for understanding as they distributed pamphlets detailing their case against police brutality. Others bowed repeatedly and said “sorry” without yielding their ground in the face of angry passengers.

“Sorry for inconvenience. We have no choice,” said a sign held in front of a barricade blocking departures.

Other passengers took a more sympathetic view.

Krishna Hariharan, a 27-year-old IT engineer from Chennai, India, said his five-day holiday in Hong Kong was already extended to seven days because of canceled flights. His boss was not pleased, and he had to sleep in the terminal because he was running out of money, he said.

But he praised a group of protesters who had come over to apologize and give him bottled water and biscuits.

“I can’t blame anyone,” Hariharan said. “They are seeking justice, and it just happens that our fates are intertwined like this. If the government comes down hard on them — then what are they governing for?”

Carrie Lam, Hong Kong’s leader, said the city risked being “pushed into an abyss” and warned that it could be “smashed to pieces.”

“The stability and well-being of 7 million people are in jeopardy,” Lam said.

As the summer of unrest rolls on, the situation is becoming increasingly tense. Statements from Chinese government officials and state media have grown steadily more shrill, accusing protesters of “terrorism” and warning of an impending crackdown in the semiautonomous financial center.

The political crisis, triggered by now-suspended plans to allow extraditions to mainland China, has swollen as Hong Kongers demand the bill’s full withdrawal, an independent inquiry into police actions toward protesters, greater democracy and an amnesty for those arrested in clashes between demonstrators and police.

The upheaval has come at a politically sensitive time for Chinese leader Xi Jinping, ahead of the 70th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China, which the ruling Communist Party plans to mark with a military parade in October.

Hong Kong-based airline Cathay Pacific, which has drawn the ire of Beijing after some of its staff recently joined protests, said Tuesday that a second pilot from the airline has been suspended. The pilot, a second officer working on a flight Tuesday from Manchester to Hong Kong, was suspended for “misuse of company information in violation of the company’s internal code of conduct,” the company said in a statement. It added that internal disciplinary proceedings were underway.

On Saturday, Hong Kong’s flagship airline said it had suspended a pilot who was arrested during earlier protests.

International calls grew, meanwhile, for authorities in Hong Kong and China to dial back tensions in the city.

U.N. human rights chief Michelle Bachelet urged authorities to immediately investigate police use of force in their recent crackdown on protesters. Her spokesman said there was “credible evidence” to suggest that Hong Kong law enforcement officials had used less-than-lethal force in ways that are “prohibited by international norms and standards.”

Chris Patten, the last British governor of colonial Hong Kong before the city’s return to Chinese sovereignty in 1997, warned that a Chinese intervention would be a “catastrophe” for both Hong Kong and China.

Speaking to BBC radio, he urged Lam and Xi to find a way to bring people together.

“There is a degree of frustration and anger at the government refusing to give any sensible ground at all, which probably provokes more violence,” Patten said.

Anna Kam in Hong Kong and Shibani Mahtani in Cadiz City, Philippines, contributed to this report.

Protesters shut down Hong Kong airport as China warns of ‘terrorism,’ raising fears of military crackdown

By Timothy McLaughlin and Anna Kam |

Published August 12 at 12:34 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted August 13, 2019 1:18 PM ET |

HONG KONG — Thousands of protesters shut down Hong Kong’s international airport Monday, defying an intensifying police crackdown, as China issued ominous warnings that described the protests as “terrorism” and began massing a paramilitary force in a southern border city.

Fears have been mounting that Beijing — squeezed by a trade dispute with the United States and approaching a nationwide celebration of the founding of the People’s Republic of China — will soon resort to military action to quell the pro-democracy protests in the semiautonomous territory. Chinese officials and state news media actively stoked those fears Monday.

“The radical demonstrators in Hong Kong have repeatedly attacked police with extremely dangerous tools in recent days, which constitutes a serious violent crime, and now they are descending into terrorism,” said Yang Guang, a spokesman for the Hong Kong and Macao Affairs Office in Beijing. It was the first time the office had portrayed the protests in Hong Kong as “terrorism.”

“We should relentlessly crack down on such violent criminal acts without mercy, and we firmly support Hong Kong police and judicial authorities in bringing the criminals to justice as soon as possible,” Yang told reporters from state and Hong Kong media.

The nationalist Global Times tabloid tweeted a video showing Chinese armored personnel carriers heading toward the southern city of Shenzhen, which borders Hong Kong, ahead of what the paper called “large-scale exercises” by the People’s Armed Police, a paramilitary unit. “The tasks and missions of the Armed Police include participating in dealing with rebellions, riots, serious violent and illegal incidents, terrorist attacks and other social security incidents,” the newspaper elaborated in an accompanying story.

And China’s state broadcaster, CCTV, issued a commentary Monday night headlined “Alert! There are signs of terrorism on the streets of Hong Kong,”in which it warned: “No country can accept terrorist acts in its own country … Hong Kong has reached an important juncture. ‘End violence and restore order’ is the most important, urgent and overriding task of Hong Kong at present!”

Earlier, the Chinese government department responsible for Hong Kong held its third news conference in three weeks — it previously had not held a briefing in the 22 years since Britain returned the territory to the mainland.

Some of the protesters who had been occupying the airport’s arrivals hall swarmed into the departures area Monday, prompting authorities to cancel all flights and advise travelers to leave one of the world’s busiest hubs. Airport operations resumed Tuesday morning, though there were some delays and cancellations stemming from the previous night’s disruption.

Monday’s protest came in response to a sharp increase in the level of force employed by Hong Kong’s embattled police. Hours before the airport shutdown, two police officers elsewhere in the city pinned a black-clad demonstrator to the concrete, one officer’s knee pressing the young man’s face into a pool of his own blood.

“I’ve already been arrested,” the man yelled as he cried for help. “Don’t do this, I’m begging you.”

The scene, captured Sunday night by a cameraman from the Hong Kong Free Press, was jarring even in a city now accustomed to weekends awash with tear gas. It unleashed a fresh wave of anger toward Hong Kong’s police force and the government more broadly, spurring thousands of demonstrators to respond by occupying the airport.

At the airport Monday, officials had halted all departures by late afternoon, affecting tens of thousands of passengers.

Hong Kong’s airport authority said all flights were suspended Monday at about 3:30 p.m. local time (3:30 a.m. Eastern time).

After sitting in the arrivals hall for much of the day, many protesters began leaving the airport in the evening amid rumors on social media and messaging apps that police were preparing for a large clearance operation. The protesters, many dressed in black, streamed across the roads around the airport, bringing traffic to a near-standstill. Some travelers abandoned buses and taxis and wheeled bags through the traffic. Many said they were headed to a nearby bus station.

On Sunday night, Hong Kong police intensified their crackdown with new and more aggressive tactics after more than two months of sustained protests and more than 600 arrests.

Officers disguised themselves as protesters to arrest suspects, launched tear gas inside a subway station and fired on protesters at close range with less-than-lethal ammunition. One young woman was shot in the face with what appeared to be a bean bag round, severely injuring her eye. Police said Monday that the videos and photos had to be verified and that they could not confirm “the reasoning behind this lady’s injury.”

But the incident provided the latest rallying point for protesters.

“The police have had enough, to be honest. They feel like they have been bullied for two months now, and they knew themselves more than capable to use real force and tactics to control the situation,” said Clement Lai, a former police superintendent who now runs his own security firm.

“If the order was given that they need to escalate their action and their force, these guys are more than happy to do that.”

Mel, 40, who took part in the airport demonstrations and carried a sign with pictures of bloodied protesters, said she wanted “to show the world that what we are looking for is freedom.”

She said she was angry about the “dirty methods” police used Sunday night and early Monday morning.

Mel, who gave only her first name, added that a decision was made among many protesters to leave early Monday evening because of fears that police would forcibly clear the airport.

The police actions appear to be part of broader efforts by the Hong Kong government, with the support of officials in Beijing, to end the political crisis, through an approach that includes ramping up pressure on businesses, leveling heavy charges against arrested protesters and using state-controlled media to pump out increasingly shrill, conspiratorial claims about who is organizing the demonstrations.

“After a period of several weeks of uncertainty as to who was coordinating the government response, last week saw the rollout of Beijing’s multipronged, comprehensive strategy to deal with the protests,” said Sebastian Veg, a historian of China and a professor at the School of Advanced Studies in Social Sciences in Paris. “It consists in uniting all forces with whom common ground can be found to isolate and defeat the enemy.”

He added, “The aim is to turn public opinion against the protests by drastically raising the cost of participation.”

The new police tactics came after former deputy police commissioner Alan Lau was called out of retirement last week to help the embattled force.

Lai credited the new approach, in part, to Lau’s return. “He is coming back with a mission,” the former superintendent said.

Hospital officials said that 45 people were injured in weekend protests and that 25 remained hospitalized. Two were in serious condition.

One police officer who has worked on the front lines over the past month said officers’ new ploy of disguising themselves as protesters — wearing masks, yellow hard hats and black civilian clothes — was a deliberate tactic from the police Special Duties Unit, nicknamed the “Flying Tigers,” to sow mistrust among protesters.

This is a tactic they will continue to use, the officer said, speaking on the condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to talk to reporters. Police on Monday also displayed trucks mounted with water cannons that they could deploy to disperse crowds.

One 22-year-old protester who has been on the front line for weeks admitted that the more aggressive moves by police had caught some demonstrators off guard and yielded results.

“It was quite effective for them; they are changing their strategy,” he said. “We know now the police have no limits. They will not follow the rules and the law.”

The government, in what has become a weekly ritual, condemned protesters Monday and said a police officer was injured after being hit with a firebomb tossed by a demonstrator.

Protests began earlier this year over the government’s attempts to push through a bill that would allow extraditions to mainland China. The legislation, which numerous critics said would be a severe blow to Hong Kong’s autonomy, was suspended by Hong Kong leader Carrie Lam in June.

Lam, however, has refused to fully withdraw the measure. She has issued apologies as well as condemnation, none of which have quelled the crisis. Most recently, she has pivoted to focus on how the unrest is damaging Hong Kong’s economy.

Protesters have offered a list of five demands that has shifted slightly in recent weeks. Much of the focus is now on the creation of an independent commission to investigate the handling of the bill and the subsequent fallout.

An inquiry has drawn wide support, with the Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce, law groups and civil-society organizations backing its creation, but the government continues to resist such calls. Lam has said she thinks an in-house investigation by police of their actions is sufficient and has not addressed the other demands.

The front-line protester said the new police strategy would only harden those who have already dedicated themselves to the fight.

“You can see our equipment — shields, helmets — is for defense, not for offense,” he said. “From now on, I think that will change. Some types of weapons will be used. We are standing there and getting beat by them.”

Anna Fifield, Shibani Mahtani and Tiffany Liang contributed to this report.

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gimmetheheadcanons · 5 years

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don’t sit down, he’s moved your chair (1/3)

A/N: First Bonkai and barely edited so be gentle. Inspired by a funny post I saw on tumblr about purposefully hiring a nightmare Thanksgiving guest.

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Break a mirror//Roll the dice//Run with scissors through a chip and fryer fight//Go into business with a grizzly bear//But just don’t sit down ‘cause I’ve moved your chair. ----Arctic Monkeys//Don’t Sit Down Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair

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1. The Deal.

“You won't believe what bomb my grams decided to drop on me three frickin’ days before Thanksgiving Elena!”

“Was it - now my child, you are getting too old to sit on my lap.”

The voice Bonnie Bennett found on the other side was unsympathetic and unmistakably male. She had been lazily pushing her shopping cart through the narrow aisles of a busy grocery store when Mr. Not-Elena’s surprise impersonation of her grandmother brought her to a sudden halt. Cue the chorus of irritated tongue clicks, a barrage of choice curses (all very colorful) and echoing groans from the shoppers behind her.

Bonnie ignored them all.

Yeah yeah, we hear you, she thought as a train of angry customers and their carts passed her by, but only after an exchange of death glares as a final parting gift. No one wanted to be here running last minute Turkey Day errands. Least of all Bonnie. But she’d been bulldozed by her grandma and in no mood to be so agreeable again.

What a sham of a holiday.

When she was done redirecting traffic with her free hand, Bonnie turned to the man on the other line – the one inexplicably answering her best friend’s cell. Feeling even less festive than she did a moment ago she made her demand for answers.

“Who is this?” She snapped.

The stranger simply chuckled in return.

“I mean it pal.”

“Pal?”

Another mocking laugh.

“They're your minutes.” The stranger declared before lowering his tone to be more sultry. Another borrowed voice, this time a phone sex line operator with the intention to seduce Bonnie.

“Who'd you want me to be?”

Of course. The theatrics should’ve given it away, but then again ‘obvious’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘less infuriating’.

Bonnie rolled her eyes as she figured out which idiot it was she was dealing with.

“Oh God. Damon.”

“Ding ding, well done.”

Who else would take such delight in rubbing salt into her wound.

“Aren't you too dumped to be answering your ex's phone like this?”

“Eh we're trying the whole friend thing.” Damon Salvatore finally responded and in his own voice, flippant and full of trouble.

Bonnie shook her head as she always did when confronted by Damon and Elena’s drama.

“And?” She asked but stopping short of adding the intended (and wholly judgemental) final part of that sentence: What else is new.

“It sucks. Massively.” Damon whined, and it was Bonnie’s turn to chuckle at his misery.

It took her a while to warm to the man her childhood friend made the monumental mistake of getting romantically involved with. But Bonnie finally did and now cared enough to make a mental note to schedule another intervention for him once the holidays were over.

The break up couldn’t have come soon enough and Damon just needed to hear that.

Still, it must’ve hurt like hell.

“Tell me about it.” Bonnie said with a little more kindness. She too was recovering from the end of a rough relationship. There was somewhat of an odd camaraderie developing between her and Damon Salvatore and perhaps that was the reason for it – bonding over the shared humiliation of being jilted by a Gilbert.

Except Bonnie was sure she’d gotten the short end of the stick. Her Gilbert, sweet baby brother Jeremy Gilbert, turned out to be a cheat. Damon, on the other hand, was far more culpable than Bonnie when it came to his heartbreak.

“You should hang up. Before she sees you.”

“Sees me doing what? What’s a little chinwag between pals?”

With no longer a mystery to distract her, Bonnie resumed her shopping. Departing from her grandmother’s grocery list, she almost swept clean an entire shelf of sugary snacks.

Straight into the cart you all go.

Necessary reinforcements, something to get her through the misery of the next few days.

“Honestly you’re acting a little paranoid Bon Bon. What’s wrong?” Damon said, further insisting his innocence with an artificial sweetness that even Bonnie, with all her cravings, found a little too sickly.

“So, we're just gonna pretend you weren't snooping around in her mail box? See who Elena's texting now you're supposedly done done.”

“Ha! Trick question. She isn't texting anyone...not anymore anyway.”

“Damon! You ca-”

“One second, got a quick text I need to send.”

Cut off mid-speech Bonnie could still hear Damon in the background reading aloud the messages he typed out on his ill-gotten device. She’d been forcibly made party to this unethical intrusion into Elena Gilbert’s personal life.

Great. More relationship awkwardness on the horizon.

“New phone who dis…question mark. Send. Block. New phone who dis…question mark. Send. Block.”

Growing impatient with his behavior, Bonnie tried to get Damon’s attention by calling out his name and a couple important facts about boundaries – all of which his disturbing ass chose to ignore.

“Aaand send. Aaand block. Okay done now.”

Damon was back.

“Damon what di – ”

“Hey, call me back on mine?”

And just as suddenly, Damon was gone.

----------- Bonnie had been shopping for about fifteen minutes when phone rang. It had been a strangely peaceful fifteen minutes, the chaos all around the store provided the perfect backdrop for some pensive sulking. Deep in thought yet frustratingly unable to formulate a plan to get out of Thanksgiving dinner this year, moping was all Bonnie had and she was prepared not to have it interrupted by Damon Salvatore.

Pressing to reject had bought another fifteen minutes of peace and Bonnie accomplished plenty with that time. Groceries had been paid for, then bagged, and placed in her Prius. She still no plan but the self-pity had begun to wane enough for her to want to pick up should the phone ring again.

It did, whilst she was on route to return her now empty cart, and this time she answered.

“Damon?”

Silence on the other end.

Bonnie cursed the pettiness of the man she could clearly hear breathing.

“Damn it Damon. Hello?”

When Damon eventually answered, Bonnie had her finger on the end call button and her car keys in her hand. The sun hadn’t set yet, but the temperature dropped significantly since she’d first gotten to the store. She watched as a wave of new arrivals fought over parking spaces, the escalating drama made it impossible for other drivers to leave further exacerbating the situation. By the carts, under a flimsily built shelter, Bonnie hugged her body against the November cold and decided to wait it out.

“So bombs huh?” Damon asked, he sounded a little out of breath. He was somewhere outside too. Out walking. Bonnie couldn’t help speculating as to why he’d suddenly decided to brave the fierce frost.

“Where’s Elena?”

“Oh I don't know Bonnie!” She could hear him shiver before he spoke and imagined his lips turn a biting shade of blue to match his eyes. Icicles hanging from his black hair and that stupid leather jacket, like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon.

“I'm not her babysitter. Didn’t you get the memo – we’re finished.”

Bonnie scoffed before placing the phone in between her shoulder and ear to free up her freezing hands. She then pushed them into the warm pockets of her long, red winter coat and there felt around for a pair of thick gloves.

In the end, she was only able to fish out one.

“Fine,” said Damon, misconstruing Bonnie’s silence as directed at him disapproval. “If I had to guess I’d say…out looking for her phone.”

“Oh my God, move on Damon!”

“This is not normal behaviour!”

She hadn’t intended on yelling so angrily that her phone nearly dropped to the ground, but Bonnie was furious. She’d just bought those gloves yesterday to match her knitted beanie, how could one be gone already?

“Oh shush. It's perfectly Ross and Rachel, trust me. We're gonna get back together. Maybe. Probably.”

The battle for parking continued to wage on, as did the icy wind and Bonnie needed better shelter at least until one of those things passed. Defeated, she headed back to the store she’d thought she’d just escaped.

“You know what Damon, the most disturbing part of that is you're probably right. But I got too much on plate for your drama so good luck to you both I guess.”

Just inside by the entrance, Bonnie found a nice heating vent to camp next to. She flashed the large security guard at the door an awkward smile and pointed to her cell phone, pretending bad cell coverage was the real culprit behind her return.

All she got in return was that menacing security guard scowl.

Anxious to stay indoors, Bonnie found herself turn to the desperate act of pleading with her eyes; a survival tactic she picked up from orphaned pups in a kennel she volunteered at one summer back in high school. Every day there, she tried to adopt them all and every day she was told she couldn’t.

“Helloooo Bonnieeeee?”

She could hear Damon singing her name, off-key and right into her ear. Each time a little louder, little more annoying. But Bonnie couldn’t risk breaking eye contact with the guard. Her hazel eyes were beginning to sting, her face ached from the unnatural width of her smile; it growing increasingly more manic and pained.

No one loitering here. Nothing to see sir, please move on.

Strange as it was, it somehow worked. An incident came in over the intercom and the guard called to action. Bonnie could stay and not lose a limb to frostbite.

Thank God for Thanksgiving tantrums.

“I’m still here Damon.”

“Finally! So, what exactly did wily old Sheila do?”

Crap, she’d almost forgotten it. The problem, still intractable and inching closer.

“Oh nothing except invite my disaster deadbeat mom for Thanksgivings dinner. Three courses of sweet emotional manipulation followed by forced reconciliation over coffee.”

“‘Tis the season I guess.”

“‘Tis not fair is what it is.” Bonnie immediately howled back then felt ashamed closely after.

Damon sounded a little more serious when he spoke next.

“So…How many years has it been?”

She sighed before taken a moment to do the math. Talking about the woman who birthed her then ditched her was always a sore subject for Bonnie.

“Six and before that seven I think. She just showed up one night, stayed half a day and left before dinner. Pulled the same crappy move the time before that. Except, she brought me a stupid doll I guess.”

“I was childish enough to think it was awesome.”

The memory of that cheap doll flooded Bonnie’s insides with bitter rage. What she didn’t tell Damon was how she was pretty certain the doll was something Abby Bennett picked up at a gas station just outside of Mystic Falls. Bonnie figured that out last summer when she, Elena and their friend Caroline Forbes planned to take their college tour road trip. Except, she didn’t make it past Whitmore; somehow, even with all those miles between them, Abby managed to ruin that for her daughter too.

“Ouch. Sounds like mommy Bennett is gunning for the illustrious Lilly Salvatore Award for Monstrous Mothers and Their Tortured Offspring.

“Ouch.” Bonnie said, meaning it. Damon didn’t often talk about his parents but oddly enough when he did it wasn’t with Elena. It was something Bonnie remembered her best friend call attention to night after night during the build up to the end of their doomed romance.

He won’t let me in Bon. Each time, he either laughs or lashes out. How am I supposed to deal with that?

As her friend poured out her heart, Bonnie poured herself another drink and kindly pretended she didn’t understand the appeal of shutting down, of keeping your loved ones out and precious sunny moments away from dark storm clouds of your past.

“I don’t want to see her Damon.”

“So don't go. Problem solved.”

“But I promised Grams. I didn’t mean to, but she worked her magic and somehow got to me.”

“Then go and bail after you’ve had a mouthful of tasty bird.” Damon said making it sound all so easy.

“But bailing isn't my thing. So…other options? Please.”

“Fine, stay. All the way till pie, have said pie and chew slow. Very slow.”

She was losing his sympathy, Bonnie could tell. Life was always easy for the Damon Salvatores of the world, consequences be damned. The only options were their way or their way but a little bumpier, littered with the bodies he had to mercilessly mow down.

“I can’t stay either.” Bonnie admitted. Just the thought made her queasy. Being sat opposite Abby for an entire day, being made to bite her tongue or make empty conversation about God knows what. Swallow all that hurt then let it fester inside her for another six or seven years until it bubbled up to the surface at the most inconvenient of times.

No, Bonnie wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

“Then we’re back to option a) Don't frickin’ go.”

“But Grams -”

“Well then that sounds like a you problem Bon. I gave you all your choices. Now pick one or call a friend.”

“I thought I was calling a frie – hello? Damon? Hello?”

A cold dial tone emitted from her cell. Damon’s voice was long gone, and Bonnie was left standing with one less thing to be thankful for on this crappy holiday – her so called friends.

“Jerk. What did I even expect?” Bonnie found herself muttering, at first angrily and then louder.

“Not meaningful advice. Oh no! Never from you Damon, you bloodsucking cold-eyed asshole!”

With her call completed, her nemesis the store security guard reappeared ready to add to Bonnie’s misery and kick her outside to either face the mayhem or mace-like wind.

“Ma’am, you’re not buying so I want you out of here.”

“I’m going! Jeez, just give me a second.”

“Sure, you were.” He snorted as he grabbed Bonnie by her arm and without warning began to steer her towards the exit. When she resisted the niceties were dropped.

“Out. Now.”

Bonnie was about to give the unreasonable man a piece of her mind and teach him a thing or two about personal space when another person got there first.

An onlooker, male, maybe college-aged and casually munching on a bag of what looked like pork rinds.

“Hey man,” He called out to the security guard, his voice light and non-confrontational. “You wanna back off a little? Really wouldn’t wanna lose a hand.”

The guard stopped long enough for Bonnie to free herself from his grip. He watched the guy with wary eyes as if trying to discern if an actual threat was being made. Bonnie understood the hesitation, there was something off about the way the words were delivered and yet on the surface Pork Rind Guy seemed only interested in consuming his gross snack. The relaxed grin he wore on his face, akin to that of an entertained moviegoer not a someone roaring for a throw down with a much larger man.

Every so often, in between bites, he’d attempt to throw a piece in the air and catch it with his mouth but be left smacking his lips at air like a fish; each portion bouncing right off the short brown hairs on his head and onto the floor. There, he’d kick at them with the grim looking muddy sneakers he wore on his feet.

He was a child, a man yes, but barely.

A nuisance.

Bonnie could tell the guard decided the same thing and was ready to dismiss the interfering stranger as such when Pork Rind Guy opened his mouth to speak again.

“Yeah…especially that one.” He said pointing at the guard’s left hand. “With it being so close to the holidays you’re gonna wanna keep the company.”

Bonnie’s eyes widened.

With a twinkle in his blue eyes and no regrets, Pork Rind Guy made a lewd gesture with his own left hand and laughed.

It was a great laugh. Free and big. The kind of laugh you’d hear as you passed a playground. Yet, Bonnie felt embarrassed by it and everything else about him. The gesture included. It was immature, meant to grate on you and it made her cringe a little.

The gesture had a different impact on the guard. His face flushed red with anger and Bonnie knew it was time to throw in the towel and just go.

As she used the distraction to quietly slip away, she could hear the burly security guard bark at the younger man and Pork Rind Guy’s response made her smile a little.

“You need to get out of my face son.”

“Could you like – not wave that so close to my face?”

“Get out of here! Right now!”

Bonnie glanced back just in time to see Pork Rind Guy throw her a wink. It came right after he’d finally succeeded in catching a pork rind with his mouth.

How childish, Bonnie thought, shaking her head but this time smiling a lot.

----------------

By the time Bonnie got close to her car, the traffic situation had died down considerably and she didn’t expect to be held up much longer; and yet, in typical Thanksgiving fashion, she’d been too hasty in giving thanks.

“Hey.”

Pork Rind Guy, materializing out of nowhere and coming in between her and her car.

Startled, Bonnie frowned and looked around to see if they’d be joined by their old friend the security guard, finally able to do his job and provide said security.

The question is, however, would she be needing it.

Pork Rind Guy seemed oblivious to Bonnie’s alarm. His right arm reached deep into the jumbo bag of rinds he still cradled and not her throat like the parking lot assailant Bonnie worried he might be.

If this encounter were going to turn into an NBC Dateline special then it’d have to wait whilst he hunted for crumbs.

When done, Pork Rind Guy cast aside the empty packet and finally addressed the perplexed person he’d delayed.

“So I just wanted to tell you – before you go – there is always one other option. Bring a date. A human buffer.”

It took Bonnie a full minute to gather her wits enough to follow what Pork Rind Guy was trying to tell her. She still didn’t understand how he managed to get away from the guard and out to the parking lot in time to catch her, why he did so and if he was a danger.

Keys readied in her fist, Bonnie asked for an explanation.

“Excuse me?”

Pork Rind Guy smiled and again it was full of boyish charm.

“Someone to draw fire and guess what? I got the perfect shirt for that!”

He puffed out his chest and pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt to straighten it out.

“See?”

What Bonnie saw was a logo, right in the middle and against the blueish gray of the rest of his shirt. It was red and round, like a bullseye but probably belonged to a band she’d never heard of.

“Draw fire at dinner.” He repeated, and this time Bonnie understood.

Pork Rind Guy was referring to her earlier conversation with Damon about Thanksgiving dinner with her mom.

Bonnie felt a chill and it had nothing to do with the weather. Had their run in earlier been planned and if so why? She examined the parking lot for others and was relieved to find they weren’t alone. Several shoppers still close enough to call on if things got unsafe.

Nothing about this guy felt right and Bonnie had heard enough. She snuck quick glance at the car sat behind him, her ticket out of this progressively creepy conversation. Good, Pork Rind Guy didn’t seem to be blocking the door. In fact, there was plenty of space behind him where Bonnie could pass him by and then get the hell out of there.

“Uhm thanks but I gotta go.”

“Hey hey hey! Wait a minute.”

In one quick motion, Pork Rind Guy positioned him directly against Bonnie’s door and successfully cut her off from her escape route.

Bonnie braced herself for worse to follow, but was surprised to see him then, just as smoothly, step aside. Nothing about this guy felt right, Bonnie knew that and yet she didn’t get in her car and drive away.

“What do you want?”

His lips curled into a satisfied smile when she turned to face him.

They were now stood a little too close for comfort. Bonnie could feel the hot air of his breath on her lips, see the goose bumps on the pale skin of his exposed neck and decided that’s where the sharp end of her keys would go if he took one more step towards her.

But Pork Grind Guy didn’t. In fact, he fell back, held up his hands and apologized.

“I'm sorry. That was weird right? Kinda? A little?”

Bonnie didn’t respond, just watched him with narrowed eyes as he took it upon himself to tally up all the reasons why everything he’d done up until now was inappropriate.

“No it's alright to admit it...that was weird. With me just showing up at your car like that. Outta nowhere with all this information about a conversation we personally didn’t have. I know, I know. I’m an eavesdropper. I admit.”

Another smile, brief and full of humor.

“And then that proposition? Yikes! What even was that? No, no, no. No good. at all!”

Bonnie relaxed a little but not enough to put away her car keys and retire her plans to go for the jugular.

“Let's try again. Hi, my name is Kai. Well it’s actually Malachai but since I'm trying not to frighten you away with a name straight out of Necronomicon I think Kai will do just fine.”

“By the way, have you seen that film? God, Bruce Campbell. What a guy right?”

“Sorry, rude again. What's your name?”

“Bonnie and I gotta head home now.”

“I’m expected.” She quickly added, angrily wondering why she told him her real name. Was it because earlier, he was essentially asking for her home address and this was the lesser of two evils?

Either way, she wouldn’t slip up again.

“I need go home now Kai. It’s cold and I’m very tired.”

Pork Rind Guy – no – Kai dropped his jaw when she said his name. It was exaggerated for effect, but she could see he was somehow flattered by the show of trust when she told him hers.

“Bonnie.”

He celebrated by repeating her name back to her, saying every letter with great purpose and pleasure.

“Nice to meet you Bonnie.”

“Well Bonnie, it sounds to me like you were having a rough day. Got a bit of a situation at the home front huh?”

“I wanna help with that.”

Bonnie blinked as confusion set in once again.

“Excuse me.”

“For the reasonable price of one home cooked Thanksgiving dinner. I, Kai Parker, will be your date.”

“Eh yeah…No thanks.”

Bonnie felt a little relieved but also self-conscious, was Damon right, was this perfectly normal and she just not to used to guys hitting on her?

“Oh no, you got it all wrong. I'll be your date. The one all girls sooner or later bring home to screw with their parents. I'll be the mistake.”

Kai continued to explain, and Bonnie again found herself not walking away when she easily could have.

“I've been told, on many occasions, that I'm every parent’s nightmare. Imagine, Grams drops a bomb and you Bonnie, drop a nuke.”

Every parent’s nightmare, why did Bonnie have no trouble believing that. Kai was cute but on balance also a major creep with awful taste so no, of course most girls would have no interest in inviting him home to meet their families. End of November and he’s dressed like a stoner extra in a bad nineties high school movie. Faded t-shirt and long sleeves combo, three-quarter cargo pants and sneakers.

In this weather.

Who does that?

Valid question Bon.

“And why would I invite a perfect stranger into my home?” She asked him, for the first time saying more than four words. He must’ve noticed too, how her curiosity got the better of her because his face lit up like a Christmas tree. It was too soon for that crap, Bonnie thought, gripping her keys a little tighter.

“Because that's the beauty of it! After Thanksgiving, I go back to being a perfect stranger. Who else can say that?”

“No baggage.”

“No offense” Bonnie said flatly and with all the offense. “But that sounds like BS.”

Kai appeared unfazed by her bluntness. As usual, the lack of warmth in her voice made him work only harder.

“If you ask me - which I know you're not but hear me out anyway – if you were asking me… what sounds like bullshit is having to spend Thanksgiving with a woman who gets to choose to walk in and out of your life at a moment's notice.”

“You should be able to the same Bonnie.”

“That's what I think.”

Bonnie inhaled deeply, thrown by the sudden sincerity with which he delivered that final line. She let a calculated stillness wash over her as she dealt with the sweltering emotion under the surface. She’d been affected by Kai’s words, the notion behind them appealing not to her but directly to the pain her small body had housed for all the years.

“Pork rind?”

Out of one of his pocket, Kai spontaneously produced a handful of the snack Bonnie saw him finish then offered it to her.

Bonnie’s eyes zeroed in on the lint particulars stuck to the grease of the rinds and declined.

“I can see why you're so eager to worm your way to our dinner table.”

Kai shrugged and stuffed the rinds back into his pocket. Eyes fixed firmly on hers, Bonnie knew there was another offer he was eager to see if she would accept.

If not rinds Bonnie, how about retaliation?

“What about your family? Won't they be expecting you?” She asked changing the subject.

“Not if they changed the locks as they promised they would.”

Again, Kai surprised her with his openness.

“Harsh.” Bonnie said yet not feeling the need to press Kai for any further details. In all her anger, she’d forgotten there were people out there who simply didn’t have families to spend Thanksgiving Day with.

“Not everyone takes to my winning personality as you have.” Kai replied appearing to have sufficiently recovered from the solemnness of the moment.

Bonnie laughed and saw Kai’s entire face beam as if the sound of her laugh had been his goal all along.

“Hold your horses buddy. I haven’t agreed to anything just yet.”

“Sorry manners.” Kai said before he began to obsessively kick at the gravel and the dirt under his feet.

“What is it now Kai? Dropped a pork rind?”

Satisfied he’d made enough of a clearing, Kai Parker got down on one knee and held up a single pork rind in between his fingers like an engagement ring.

Mortified, Bonnie’s face flushed at the sudden interest passing shoppers were beginning to show and the several prying looks being thrown their way.

Kai cleared his throat.

“Bonnie, will you let me spend Thanksgiving Day with you and your family? I promise to be on my worst behaviour. Promise to shake your poor unsuspecting mother to core and show her the dangerous road her awful parenting choices may have led her beautiful baby girl.”

A nod from her was enough of a signal for Kai to jump up to his feet and throw the absurd edible ring Bonnie refused over his shoulder; freeing up his hand for a more formal shake.

“Oh my bad.” He said only remembering to wipe the food grease from his palm and onto his pant leg after noticing the look of disgust on Bonnie’s face.

That look didn’t change much when finally, clean enough to be once more presented to her, Kai simply held his hand up to his face and grinned.

“Gotta make it legit right?” He told her before spitting straight onto his skin.

“No backsies.”

One look at the wet hand in front her and Bonnie knew her instincts were right.

Kai Parker was the worst.

Yet any hesitation she may have grappled with since meeting him was gone at the mere prospect of her mother coming to a similar conclusion and doing so over a plate full of turkey at Grams’s house. With a grin of her own and a generous amount of spit, Bonnie Bennett shook on the deal; feeling for the first time all day, especially thankful for the perfectly awful Thanksgiving dinner to come.

#bonkai #bonnie bennett #kai parker #tvd #r: gimme a platform #fanfiction

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