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Log Title: Christmas Day
Log setting: The evening of December 25th at Walker's house.
Log Cast:
Ben
Trace
Jason
Walker
Ali
Glass
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Benjamin did promise he'd help cook, and so he isn't technically late. He just stepped out while the turkey (his contribution) was in the oven, and now the scent of roasted bird is permeating the house. The front door pushes open and bangs shut behind him as a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked professor breezes eagerly into the house. "Holly?" he calls immediately, not even pausing to take off his coat. "Holly, where are you? I have to tell you something."
Trace has huddled himself up on couch next to Jason, bare feet on the cushions and his poetry book out on his lap. He distractedly tucks an errant braid behind one ear, eyes still on the page, and then smiles and nudges the fireheart, murmuring, "Check this one o--" The words are broken off as the door banging catches his notice, and he looks up and calls, "Hey Ben!" But he looks to be a Ben with a mission, and doesn't say anything further. Kinda curious. 'Stuff to tell' is interesting, even if it is meant for Holly. More interesting in that case, perhaps.
Jason's got himself curled up next to Trace, leaning against the other boy, chin resting on the other's shoulder. Reading, obviously, as his lips move silently on occasion as he hits a difficult word. He's got a cup of eggnog clasped between his hands, still steaming and sprinkled with cinammon. This Christmas thing is definitely growing on him. He too perks up and blinks towards the door, giving Ben a small smile if the man looks this way. He stays quiet, though clearly interested in 'stuff to tell' as well.
The Walker in question, upstairs till the herald, moves to the head of the stairs, bending down to peep through the open area and on through the rungs of the twisting bannister. "What, hawt?" How yokel. Hollering down through the stairs. In order to better converse he makes the long trip down the winding spiral, fingers raking back through long dark hair still damp from leave-in conditioner. Hops off the final three steps to land with a gentle bounce that rattles necklaces. "What is it?" He starts anew, flashing a slightly bemused smile.
You hear a knock on the door. (from Moss Street -- Bayou St. John)
A woman from somewhere nearby sings. Not quite loud enough to annoy the neighbors too too much, but still... "Deck the balls with a naked Holly, fa la la-la, la la la la..""
Benjamin grins in at the two boys, dark eyes dancing with a secret. Whatever it is, it's got him caught fast in fascination. As Walker comes down the steps, Ben scurries to meet him, reaching out to take both of his spouse's hands. "You remember Rain, from the wedding? Mr. Rimbaud's partner?" Gentle nudgings, as Walker was pretty dazed at that point himself. "Well, he took some pictures and wants to use them in a--" But he jerks his chin around to laugh at the sudden raunchy song from outside. It can only be... "Come in, Ali!"
Alisynde enters from the front stoop.
Alisynde grins happily at everyone, looking a bit flushed. And a bit drenched.
Benjamin is just at the foot of the stairs, holding both of Walker's hands and a tad flushed himself. The boys are in on the couch, and the scent of turkey roasting drifts from the kitchen.
To use them in a.... magazine? Newspaper article? New Orleans underground porn ring? Geez, don't let something like Ali's arrival keep us in suspence! Trace gives the girl a grin and a little wave, but his hazel eyes quickly dart back to Ben and Walker. Throwing patience to the wind, "Use 'em in a what?"
Jason's head tilts, eyebrows raising. /He/ remembers Rain. Prolly from before the wedding, but, well, anyhow. Green eyes sparkle as the secret... kinda comes out. Ali gets a soft giggle at her entrance, but, dammit Ben, TELL! Finish your sentence! He grins over to Trace and nudges the other boy playfully.
Alisynde quips, "To be used in a professional naked mazola twister competition."
"Use them in a what?" Walker prods verbally, giving Ben's hands a squeeze. Now he's dying to know. Ali gets a bright smile. "Merry Christmas, dawlin'," he greets by way of festivity. Then back to Ben. "What? What's he gonna do with 'em?" He remembers Rain running around like a Japanese tourist but didn't realize the blushing boy was going to use them for anything.
Alisynde says, "Merry Christmas, everyone. Mind if I unpack, here?" She wiggles her carrying case. "Can't have th' eggnog if I don't unpack."
Benjamin laughs softly at his friends' impatience, and turns back to his beauty, with starry eyes and a bright grin. "In a book," he finishes, excited words coming in a rush. "A photo documentary about the gay community in New Orleans. I told him he'd have to get an OK from you but that's not all." Run-on sentences, even! This must be something, all right, because Ben's abandoning grammar. "He wants to include interviews and experiences and he wants me to write it, a collaboration. Me! We'd both have our names on it and publish jointly, and it'd be pracitcally a definite sell because he's already published a successful book of photography and he's well known and everything." Breathe, Ben, breathe. He pauses to pant a bit after that rush of words, and grin at Walker.
"Ben, that's awesome," Trace grins broadly. "You'll be a real live writer!" A chuckle. "Well, I mean, you already ARE, but now everybody will know so!" The boy's eyes shift to Ali briefly. Unpack? Stuff to tell, and stuff to unpack. Things sure livened up quickly. Then hazel eyes shift to Jason, looks down to the eggnog not at all subtly, and then smiles up pretty at the boy. Shaaaarrre. Merry Christmas and goodwill to all bluecaps or something.
Alisynde beams. "Oh, that's /wonderful/, Ben. Absolutely wonderful!" She suppresses a sudden urge to rush over and squeeze the life out of her friend in congratulations - let the spouse do that, first. She...is going to unpack. She unzips the carry case, revealing it full of presents for the family.
Walker's lips tug into a wide smile, eyes brightening considerably. "That's great news, hawt!!" he chirps, abandoning the hold he has on Ben's hands in favor of a tight and exuberant hug. "That's great!" He can't resist adding a bounce or three. Best Christmas present Ben could get. And he's going to be in a book about the Culture! Imagine that. Old Professor Ben wouldn't have been able to do that. Love Ms. Fortune. What a doll. Ali's announcement doesn't crowd in for several beats. Then he echoes Trace, even with his arms still around Ben's neck. "Unpack?"
Alisynde sighs, then grins. "Well, yeah. I had to get your presents over here /somehow/. Did y'think I could just use my mystical telekensis and fly them ovah?"
Trust Holly to be just as excited on the outside as Ben is on the inside! Double exclamation marks, eve. He squeezes his sweetheart close, nuzzling warm satisfaction against his neck. Nope, the Old Ben never would have dreamed of doing such a thing. Eventually he has to peek up again and crane his neck around to greet Ali, though shows no signs of peeling off his Walker-necklace. Oooh, presents! Presents which tug his smile half wistful; wedding and honeymoon completely beggared his meager resources. Hence the roasting turkey and trimmings upcoming. "Merry Christmas, Ali," he murmurs gently. "Need some help?" Not that he can move, clung to his husband like this, but it's nice to offer.
Alisynde shakes her head, smiling. "Nope. I'm good. But thank you." She starts pulling out gaily wrapped presents - the small ones are all, for the most part, wrapped in gilt-edged velvet scraps. The bigger ones are in angel christmas paper. Each has a tag on it, with a person's name, with one exception. There's a middle-sized box that has a tag reading "To Godiva and kittens: Mewmy Purrmas."
Presents! Walker just added the last of his heap this late morning. Been upstairs wrapping since nine. Though his store-bought paper and sloppy bows certainly won't compare to Ali's wrapping material he did try. He even matched metallic paper to the blue-violet of the tree. Rather uniform but pretty none-the-less. And in abundance. Dark blue packages of all sizes and lump-factors wait under the wide hem of the pine. "Ya need any help unpackin'?" Or shaking those presents, Ali-dear? Walker's a great present-shaker. For the actually unpacking of the gifts he disengages from Ben's neck, catching a hand instead to tug his spouse toward the surprises being unearthed to eye each lustfully. Yes, even Godiva's.
Jason bounces on the couch at the news, grinning brightly. Hey, that /does/ rock. He nudges Trace again with his elbow (as if the kid didn't hear already), whispering, "Think we're in the pictures??" Cause, y'know, be cool to be in a book and everything. Even if it is a book about the gay culture in Nawlins. But then again... Okay, anyhow, the eggnog's handed over with a small smile, but his attention's already going to Ali and the prese- err, unpacking. Yeah, that's it.
Alisynde sighs heavily, but looks amused. "Get over heah and shake the presents, Walkah. I know you won't be satisfied until you do. Just be careful with them, okay?"
"I dunno," Trace blinks. But does he wanna be in the Gay New Orleans book? Uhh.. well, yeah, he still would, now that he thinks about it. He grins and shrugs, "Maybe. Rain took'd a picture'a me when I was doin' my flowerboi thing." Taking the eggnog, he slurp at it briefly before it's and the poetry book are set down so he too can scamper closer to the presents. "Wow..." He picks up the one closest to him, which is Doug's coincidentally, but it still gets a merry shakeshakeshake before he abandons it and goes searching for his own. "That's really cool, how you wrapped them!" he notes; something he'd have known if he hadn't been in christmas tree awe at the time it was spoken of last night.
Permission, even! Walker's simply thrilled. He never gets permission to shake presents. Hm. Somehow having permission steals some of the mischevious joy in the notion but far be it from him to turn down the first ever offer to shake gifts? "Ya were cute bein' a flowahboi," he comments to Trace as he abandons Ben altogether to prowl the tree, lifting a gift even as it's set down for thorough - GENTLE - shaking. On to the next, held close to the ear for thoughtful consideration. A master shaker, he can almost guess what it is that Trace is getting. But not entirely sure he has to fight the urge to rattle it harder, instead replacing it to shake another. Yes, he could keep going like this till all are shaken soundly. Twice.
Everyone's little present looks to be the size of a small jewelry boxes. The big presents vary in size. Both Trace and Ben's are book-sized. Walker's is picture-sized. Glass's is big, heavy, and aquarium-sized. Ain's is small statue sized. And Jason's is bowl-sized. Ali sets each present down carefully, probably just in time to get it shook.
Benjamin is tugged along quite willingly, wandering after his eager love with the fondest of little smiles. So adorable in his exuberance... -this- is his Holly. "He's an expert present-shaker, he won't hardly jostle them at all" he assures Ali, with a knowing look. Ben shrugs out of his jacket as Holly is glued to present-shaking, hanging it up before slipping off to the kitchen on his own little Christmas cloud. Turkey basting, stuffing-checking duties lead to egg-nog-pouring duties. Everyone needs a cup, of course!
Trace, however, is not an expert present shaker. Enthusiastic, yes, but boy does he jostle. Coming to his, however, and shaking hard, produces no satisfying noise. Waitasec. Shakeshake. Nothing. He peers at it, then does the feel test, fingers pinching along the hard rectangle surface. Oh, hey... Pinch, pinch along the binding of the gift. Book. Hee. So naughty, he figured it out already. Ha!
"Oh! Ben! Ali said we could open this one before openin' presents!" Walker springs up from the floor like he was launched by catapult, toting a larger black velvet-wrapped gift after the chef. "We gotta open it tagetha. Now." Right now. Basting and egg nog can wait. Presents call. He sets it down on the table and looks at the writer expectantly.
"Now?" laughs Ben, shutting the oven again and straightening. When Walker demands, though, he follows, and so he slinks along after the incomprable one to the table. "Velvet, goodness... Ali, were you giftwrapping in the red light district?" he calls toward her with a teasing wink. A light hand is rested on Walker's shoulder as Ben lingers just behind his chair, peeking over. "Go ahead, beautiful." It's safer for his fingers back here; they might get torn off as part of the packaging if he actually tried to help (hinder?) his spouse's present enthusiasm.
Jason perches on the edge of the couch, watchin the two little boys shaking their presents, smirking crookedly. Either the concept of /him/ actually getting a present hasn't hit yet, or he's just enjoying watching the enthusiasm (like he was some old guy or something, sheesh). He leans up a little to watch the gift-opening by Walker and Ben, curious as hell. Presents are fun.
Glass enters from the front stoop.
Walker is just as happy to do the actual physical unwrapping of the present himself; Ben being near counts as opening it together. "Isn't it pretty?" He snatches off the velvet in a fluid motion, handing it off to Ben for safekeeping. Nice cloth shouldn't go to waste. Next: the box. He tears it open and digs up... a doll? Nose wrinkles cutely for just a heartbeat then: "Ooooohhhh!" It's a combination sigh and whimper of true delight. A tree-topper. An angel in thick flowing velvet robes. Only this angel's gone goth. Black velvet robes, dark hair and carefully painted gothy face. Walker's smile speaks for him with its radiant glow to light the whole house. What a topper! "Thank ya, Ali!!'" He calls gleefully, gently petting the angel's long hair.
There's the familar creak of the porch-boards, and then the door comes open a crack. Doug sticks his head in and looks around, "Hey," he calls gently.
And *Christmas* is fun! Trace is sure some little part of Jason has got to realize that by now. Yay for presents! He watches Ben and Walker, his own gift in his hands forgotten, but just momentarily. Because a moment later he pipes, "*We* should get to open one of our presents too." Sweet smile for Ali. "S'only fair." But eyes back to the newlyweds' present, when the fancy wrapping is torn away. He lights up more. That's just *too* fitting. "Put it up, put it up!" he demands, looking back to the tree. Alisynde wraps her arms around herself and beams. "I'm glad you like it.." A grin is tossed over to Trace. "Now that one's special, an' you know it. It's a house present, not a person present. Th' tree needed a proper topper." The creak of the porch-boards causes her to turn her head to Glass and grin wickedly. "M'lord Douglas. Merry Christmas."
Benjamin folds up the black velvety wrapping and sets it aside on the table, more engrossed in giggling delightedly at the Goth-angel. "Ali, it's perfect! Come on, Holly." He pats the angel's only slightly more masculine twin on the back, urging him up and toward the living room. Again he brings up the rear, trailing after his very favorite Christmas present toward the tree. Newly-entered Doug gets a dreamy grin in passing. "Merry Christmas, cutie," he murmurs with a special sort of wink. Ben's gone all wierd today.
Glass grins at Ali and steps inside, "Hello, My Droog. And Merry Christmas to you." He shrugs out of his coat and smiles at the group around the tree. Ben's comment makes him laugh, "Cutie, huh? And what did you get for Christmas, sugarplum?" The words are teasing and Doug heads into the living room to join you all, watching the angel go up.
"Hi, Doug!" Walker chirps on his way into the living room. "Merry Christmas! Come see!" Come see the angel get put on the mish-a-mash tree. "Ben? Could ya lift me up so I can put it on? I don' want ta get th' laddah back out." No surprise there; he's dangerous with the thing. 'Sides. He only weighs 116 right now; he won't be too heavy to lift for a healthy Ben. "She's beautiful, Ali. Did ya make her yerself?"
Alisynde admits, "Mostly. The face and body were already done - I just added a little judicious makeup. The dress I did do. And they've got doll hair, that I added, since I couldn't find any with black hair."
Benjamin just smiles benignly in response to Doug's question. Isn't it obvious? He got a husband and a family and warmhappycuddliness for Christmas. "You," he murmurs to Walker as he half-crouches and takes a tight hold around slender hips, "Are going to eat everything I put on your plate this evening." Of course he loves his Holly in any size, but he doesn't want him wasting away to nothing. A heft and a straighten-up, and Ben hoists Walker within arm's-reach of the top of the tree.
"What's her name?" Trace wonders idly, with a nod to indicate the angel about to fly up and perch atop the tree with Ben and Walker's help. She ought to have one, he figures. If the gargoyles get names, so does the pretty little goth angel. He creeps back on hands and knees to steal another sip from Jason's eggnog. Greedy little thing. But perhaps he redeems himself a little in crawling back up onto the couch and handing it to Jason to have his share. The boy scrubs at his brow discreetly and reaches back to pull braids off the back of his neck before returning his gaze to the tree.
Alisynde says, "That's for the members of the house to decide. Any ideas?"
Jason takes the eggnog with another small smile, but then tilts his head curiously and gives the other boy a questioning look real quick before going back to watching the goth-angel tree-topping. His hand slips over and fingers tangle through the blue braids before him.
Glass looks around at the debris. "I got you presents, but not, special ones or anything." He looks at Walker and smiles apologetically. "I was kinda distracted from shopping, hmm?" Having made his explaination he shrugs and reaches into his coat pocket for a cigarette-box. Box in hand he makes his way around the room, doling out fat joints. Each one has a bit of writing on it, in red ink. On Trace's it reads 'Comet', on Jason's, 'Dancer'. Ali gets 'Cupid,' and when Ben and Walker finish placing the tree-topper on they're rewarded with 'Dasher' and 'Vixen.' Dash away all.
"I'll try," is the best Ben gets from Walker by way of vows to eat food. If you wanted him to eat lots you should've made that part of the wedding vows. "I don' know, Trace. What's a good name f'an angel aside from 'Ben'? Cause that name's awready taken." This is delivered with a straight face as he arranges the nameless topper atop the highest limb, arranging a bit before patting Ben's head lightly. "She's on," he murmurs. Once on his feet again he peers up at the goth on the tree, lips blossoming into a smile again. "She's beautiful, Ali," he breathes again, blinking at the splendor. And then there's a Vixen before him, smelling richly, pungent-sweet. "Thanks, Doug!" More enthusiasm. Much more of festivity and he's going to pop for sure.
Glass grins at Walker, "Merry Christmas, Ami."
"Special 'nuff," the bluecap giggles softly, ignoring the questioning look and peering at the writing on his joint and then leaning over slowly, so as not to disengage Jason's kind fingers tangled up in his braids, to see what reindeer Jason got. Then he holds it up and smiles, "Thanks, Doug. I 'perciate it.." He looks back at his joint, fingers twisting it with slow appreciation. A considering gaze, but he seems to make up his mind and tucks it behind one ear, saving it for later. He reaches up and sniffles at his nose, rubbing with his knuckles. "Ya present's under the tree still. Y'kin open it when you like."
Benjamin pinkens just a touch as he sets Holly down, awarding his cheek a kiss for the sweet compliment. Blinking, he turns to accept Dasher with a formal bow, sliding the slim fellow into his jeans pocket for safekeeping. "Lord Douglas, an excellent choice. How do you always know exactly what I'm pining for?" His too-broad grin rather breaks the formality, though. With a gentle pat to Walker's hind end he moves toward the hall again. "Anyone -not- want egg nog? Speak now, lest cheer be forced upon you."
Glass grins at Trace, "Yeah? Wow, thank you." He seems delighted to be thought of and smiles a sunny smile at the bluecap before he gets distracted by Ben. "You are most welcome, and yeah, I want egg nogg bad." Chuckling a little he sits down on the floor and looks at the remaining packages with evident pleasure for a while. "Anybody want some Blitzen?" he asks the room at large.
Jason blinks up at Glass as he hands him a joint, then peers at the writing. Dancer. He giggles softly and flashes Glass a tiny smile, then leans over to peer at Trace's. Coment. Heh. "Guess Bat's getting 'Prancer,' huh?" He giggles softly, twisting braids about. And then he calls out to Glass as he too secrets the joint in a pocket, "S'from both of us." The present. Yeah, right. But Jason's been remarkably broke lately (though he /has/ been working Bourbon more than usual, go fig) and he's not above edging in on someone else's thoughtfulness. "Hey, yeah, fetch the 'nog!" He grins brightly to Ben, but then breaks into more giggles at the Blitzen thing.
Glass grins at Jason, "Well, yeah, now he is. I wasn't sure who would have to get that one. You think he'd like 'Blitzen' better? We could burn 'Prancer' instead/
Glass seems to be pretty amused by the whole idea. "Or," he says slowly, "I could roll another and put 'Rudolph' on it. Or some other name. Whose to say all the reindeer haven't died and been replaced by great grandchildren?"
Alisynde looks at her present, mightily amused. "Cupid??"
"I want some!" Walker enthuses, unstoppable tonight in his rapacious need to have fun and share the joy. Wants some egg nog, wants some Blitzen or Prancer, wants some supper... wants damn near whatever's offered up. He always wants a seat. The Vixen's tucked behind his ear for putting away later - too fat for his cross - and trots over to curl in the throne and admire the angel. "I know! Her name's Veronica." The goth-angel, that is. "She looks like a Veronica." Cupid? Ali got Cupid? Giggle. "I think we should smoke Rudolph," he giggles even brighter. "Get us all rosey-nosed."
Alisynde nods. "My vote's for Rudolph." She glances down at her present again. "Puity it wouldn't keep well enough t'be saved for Valentine's day.."
Alisynde glances back up. "Veronica? Oh. The topper. I like it, Walker."
Glass shakes his head, "There isn't a Rudolph. I only rolled the classics." He looks over at Alisynde and laughs. "I'll give you another one on valentine's day, okay?"
"I..." Trace considers, lips twisting a moment, looking down. "I'm gonna finish what's left'a Jason's eggnog, an' he can have the new glass." That decided, he takes the cup and curls up a little, drawing his legs up close to his chest and draping one arm around them. "Veronica's good," he agrees with a flicker of a smile, and then nestles his head down on Jason's shoulder.
Alisynde nods once. "Deal."
Alisynde adds, "Although Veronica's middle name should be Persephone."
Jason senses "Trace mumbles a warm rush of words into your hair, "Dancer's good f'you.." The breath he pulls in is somewhat shaky. "'Minds me of that portrait drew f'you on the mural, with the silk scarves an' ya wild hair everywhere.""
Magic disappearing act into the kitchen, and a magic reappearance a few minutes later with a plateful of mugs with egg nog. Each has a dash of cinnamon on top, naturally. The first mug gets handed to Trace -- of course you get a new cup, Ben's always thinking -- and the rest are handed around. Each cup but the first has a nice dose of rum to warm it, too. Everyone that Ben hands a cup to gets an impulsive kiss on top of the head, just because. Walker gets to be last in the drink procession, though, and gets no kiss. Perhaps the Ben in his lap which immediately follows his cup will suffice in place of it, though.
Jason hmphs softly as his eggnog's swiped. "Always seemed like a 'Prancer' to me..." And then he snickers softly and grins down at Trace. Snake. He rests his cheek amongst blue braids, murmuring, "Veronica Persephone Walker-Ashley." And then snerks and whispers a soft question to Trace.
Alisynde slips 'Cupid' away for safe keeping, smiling up at Ben as she gets nogged and forehead kissed. "Thanks, Ben."
Glass smiles at Ben and winks at him when he accepts the egg nog, before turning to look at Jason, "Cool," he says. Well, that's the end of that question, and Blitzen meets its destiny in flames. Once he's hit the unfortunate tiny reindeer, Doug hands it to Trace and has a sip of egg nog while he holds his breath.
You sense Jason give you a gently concerned look. He kinda assumed you maintained yourself today already, but, well, thinking back, you really haven't had the time. "Y'okay there, Trace?" he asks softly. And then he gives you a tiny smile. "Yeah? Comet..." He shrugs one shoulder - not the one you're resting on - and murmurs, "Sounds right fer you too, dunno why."
No kiss? Well, Walker will simply have to live with the Ben on his lap, then. And steal a few ticklish neck-kisses instead. "Thanks, hawt," he murmurs into an ear before leaning back to quiz Ali: "Why Persephone?" Not that it's a bad name. Just unusual. He slurps down a long sip of the 'nog. Better not drink too much or he won't have room for the meal coming and that would risk Ben-wrath. Which in turn might mean that Santa takes back some of the gifts he delivered. Nahh. But it would mean disapproving brow-furrows. And that wouldn't do on Christmas. Here's to hoping his wife ladens his plate light. Alisynde looks a bit sheepish. "I was reading Bulfinch's Mythology during sewing breaks. I've always loved the tale of Persephone and Hades. And, it just seemed to fit her, for some reason."
Trace sighs softly, peeking up at Jason from where he's rested with his cheek to the boy's shoulder. A soft smile touches his lips briefly and he starts to reach for the boy's hand, but suddenly, wow. Everybody's handing him things. He blinks at the eggnog a few times. Didn't he say he didn't want his own? But that's alright, he's not one to protest benevolance, so it is gently set back down on the coffeetable in front of him. Then Doug is waving the joint his way, so he hits that -- a little too hard, really -- and then holds it out. An airless croak, "Here.. someone." Once his hand is freed of the joint, he gives the red-haired boy an odd, almost wistful look. The hand not holding the joint he now takes and completes the unfinished message he'd been trying to convey while still holding his smoke. He manipulates the boy's hand so that it quickly presses his leg, brushing down from the knee quickly to his ankle, and then he releases it. Odd, out of context, I'm sure, but it's done quickly with an effort to be discreet. Jason is given a look: you understand, right? And then he turns his head to blow out his smoke in a languid stream before replacing his cheek to the fireheart's shoulder.
Jason senses "Trace makes you brush his left calf, and in doing so you feel... Nothing. Just a skinny leg under those jeans."
Benjamin can spare a few kisses, he supposes, over his lover's forehead and cheeks, in between egg nog sips. It's a warm snuggle over and around Walker, the writer quietly basking in warmth. Every now and then one dark eye peeks out at one person in particular and a smile dawns before he drifts back into dreamy observation. The strange phenomena going on here needs to be carefully watched and studied before Ben can properly interact with it.
Alisynde brings her snog-nog to her lips and sips, looking quite happy and content now that she's gotten past the sheepish part.
Glass blows out a stream of smoke, the plucks Prancer out of the box. He tosses it toward Jason, "You give it to him, in case I don't see him soon." That said, he sips his egg-nog and looks at the tree.
Walker happily acts as someone, taking the passed over joint to hit it long and slow before passing it on to the treasure in his lap. "I always like th' story 'bout what's-his-name. Th' guy what played th' hawp an' was ripped ta shreds by maenads." Isn't that a pleasant thought? "But I like all Greek myths. Mostly."
Benjamin offers softly, "Orpheus," and goes quiet again.
Alisynde nods. "Orpheus. That's one of my favorites, too."
Jason would probably snag that joint right away in any other circumstance, but it becomes clear that he's not going to - someone else has to take care of that. Prancer's snatched out of the air with a small smile as Trace passes off Blitzen, but it goes to hide with its cousin, Dancer. Jason's eyes go to Trace though, head tilted. Message, right? He blinks a little at the touch to Trace's leg... and then blinks a lot, surprise, happiness, and concern all bumping into each other as they try to make it to his eyes first. Oh. /Oh/. He gives the bluecap a shaky little smile, then leans in and asks another soft question.
Jason's fingers tighten about yours, not letting your hand go once you show him your lack of kit. "How long?" he asks softly. How long has it been since you fixed? Or how long will it be before you get completely incapacitated. Because, somewhere, he suddenly knows this is it. He's never seen you without that thing strapped on, and now... God, it's like you're in labor or something, he looks so nervous.
"Orpheus!" Walker agrees heartily, smoke escaping with the declaration. "I was gonna say Oedipus but he's th' guy what had th' mamma thin'. Orpheus was gay." See? He knows his mythology. A tight squeeze is favored the fellow in his lap, bright green eyes lifting to dance over Ben's smooth face. "Ya want ta be m'Orpheus? I'll keep ya safe from th' wild women-a th' woods."
Glass shakes his head, "Orpheus wasn't gay. He was all sad because his wife died, and he tried to rescue her from Hell. Achilles was gay." He sips his egg nog before setting it on the coffee-table so he can lie back flat on the floor.
Benjamin peers at Walker selectively interpreting mythology, and straightens up some. "You'd have to be ten years old and a shepherd child," he murmurs wisely. "Once he lost Eurydice he perverted himself with knowing young boys." That said, he considers, and bends down for a quick round of tonsil-hockey to seal the deal.
Alisynde hms. "I don't quite think Walker could pull off ten. Maybe a shepard child...I can see him with daddy's big staff." She grins wickedly.
Trace licks his lips, eyes flashing with equal measures of fear and pride. "Not since afta' Bat's party." His smile is very tenuous, as though it may crumble with a breeze, but it's there, clinging. He sighs and lets himself fall against you, one arm wiggling against the cushions to work an arm behind you back and squeeze once. He mumbles, "Like I promised."
Hyacinthus was gay too, and Trace knows this, and the back of his head is pointing this out, but it doesn't make it past his lips because the boy sighs softly and murmurs something before folding down against Jason, slipping an arm behind his back to squeeze a hug.
Walker nods to Ben's words. He'd forgotten the wife part. Ahem. But rather than clarify on his knowledge he dives headlong into the kiss, sparring warmly with his lover. Ali's aside chokes him, though and he's forced to pull back else be the victim of a giggle bout while kissing. "Big staff..?" He echoes, eyes rounding. He's not quite certain whether he should purr or hide. So he has more egg nog instead. Yum. "S'good nog, hawt." Was that an attempt to swing the conversation or what? And a bad one to boot. "When's dinnah?" Better.
Alisynde mms, rubbing her stomach. "I could eat at least two pieces of turkey. Maybe even a whole leg.."
Gass makes a face at the ceiling. "No birds. What else is around?"
Jason doesn't know /who/ was gay. Hell, they're Greek myths, and the only thing he knows about Greeks is... well, they liked boys. Or something. Not that /he/ minds. Kinda nice to be tak... So, anyhow, he wasn't paying attention to the conversation because he's engrossed with the brief, quiet whispered conversation with Trace. Tiny smiles scared looks are exchanged.
You sense Jason take a deep breath as he leans into your hug. You did promise... "Wasn' gonna think nuthin' 'til after alla this..." He bites his lip. "I, um... kinda..." Worked for a couple weeks plotting? "Can ya survive dinner?" he asks with a small smile, suddenly gentle-tender in his eyes. This is someone so far from EvilJason it's impossible to believe they exist together in the same body. This Jason doesn't throw people down stairs and grin about it after the blood flows. "We can go right to the 'partment after..." Without telling anyone. You can see that's part of his plan. Just disappear.
Trace nod-nuzzles into your hair. Disappearing sounds good. He doesn't want to explain, to have to stand up there and do the whole shameful 'my name is Trace Anderson and I'm a junkie' in front of everyone and trudge off to the apartment with their sympathy dogging his heels. Just... go. Get it done. "We'll eat and go," he whispers.
Jason definitely doesn't want their sympathy. He's not doing anything that might attract their attention to the couch and the soon-to-be-ailing bluecap. In fact, he'll probably sit next to you and eat your food so it doesn't seem like you're picking at it or whatnot. Co-conspirators, that's what you are right now. 'Sides, wouldn't it be cool to just show up after several mysterious days and say 'we're clean!' Even though you're the one cleaning up, but still. He gives you a small nod and what he hopes is a brave smile. It'll be like... sixth grade camp or something. Hell going out there, even more hell during the week, but when you come back you say you had fun. Or something. Anyhoo...
Eat and then we go. Then it starts. Frankly, he'd rather be slaving away in a canoe and banging together crummy birdhouses in summer camp, but that's beside the point. "Jason, I'm frightened," he admits in a hush, burrowing close for a moment, squeezing tight. And he is terrified. Hasn't two days clean back to back since he met you. Hasn't averaged less than two hits a day in nearly two years. "But m'gonna... make you proud of me, okay? So I really kin be yer pretty thing." He stays there for several long minutes, curled up tight against you, as the cheery conversation from the others drifts around him. And come suppertime, he gets down what he can dutifully. But afterwards he's eager to go, loathe to clue the others in as to what's going on. But it's getting harder and harder to hide his sickness, and so when an opportune moment comes, he pounces on it. A knowing look flashed your way, and he heads out into the kitchen, jimmies open the window silently. By the time you've worked your way there as well, he's already out on the lawn, waiting, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Upon seeing you, he places a slender hand in yours. Time to go. Time to jump into hell together and claw his way out shiny clean. But he smiles, and despite eyes glassy with fear, there is hope in his smile.
Trace seems somewhat antsy by the end of dinner, less and less able to hide it. Finally, as everyone has wandered away from the kitchen to languidly bask in post-feast content, Trace wanders into the kitchen. A minute or so later Jason follows. They're in there for what would probably seem like a long time. And finally if someone goes in to check or calls out and receives no answer, it would be made clear that the boys have mysteriously disappeared. Or perhaps not so mysteriously, since the window has been left open, curtain billowing gently in the late December breeze.
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