youfeelluckypunk | [turkey day, nov 21]

Entry tags:

[turkey day, nov 21]

They've graciously been invited to Derek's Thanksgiving celebration on the actual day itself, but Reid had gotten to thinking after Luke had told him of the invitation that it would be nice to throw a small get-together of their own. Halloween at the bookstore had been a success, after all, and in spite of the fact that they'd been sent to a hellish version of Darrow for the next ten days, Reid had really enjoyed planning and decorating for the holiday with his boyfriend. In a way, it also serves as a bit of a housewarming, even if nobody else needs to know that. They've been officially living together for a week now, though the only real difference is that he's handed over his keys to the Dimera apartment back to the landlord.

Still, being able to call this apartment home, knowing that he gets to spend every night with the man he loves, it means something special to him, and he wants to share that sense of home with the rest of the people he cares about.

So he sends out texts to Alec and Magnus, Peter and Jason and Hild, telling them all to save the date for the twenty-first so they can have an early Thanksgiving celebration. Others are welcome, of course, and Reid suspects they'll have more than enough food because he'd made arrangements for one restaurant in particular (one that he visits often and had already been promoting take-out for Thanksgiving Day) to set him up with a turkey dinner early. There are all the expected fixings, though he'd ordered four turkeys because Luke still needs to eat more to make up for all the weight he'd lost in the alternate version of Darrow, plus a couple pumpkin pies and various other desserts strewn out across the table. The wine Peter had given to him on Halloween is out, available for consumption to those who want it, but Reid will be sticking to water tonight.

If anyone asks, he's been slaving away in the kitchen all day long, brewing coffee after coffee as he and Luke make sure everything looks nice and neat for their first Thanksgiving dinner together. The food is set out over the counter in the kitchen, china and utensils and glassware placed at the very end so people can take what they want and find a place to eat in the living room, where they've placed extra chairs, and it isn't until they hear the first knock at the door that Reid finally decides he's satisfied with the way everything looks.

Every single person who will be here tonight has been through so much, seen more than one person ever should, but tonight, Reid is just grateful that they're all still here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jason loves Peter, but he especially loves Peter when he's giddy to the point of verging on the ridiculous; it's a contagious feeling, and Jason finds himself infected as soon as Peter puts on that first Lady Gaga CD and begins to cook for the Thanksgiving dinner. Jason spent the entire afternoon grinning, even listening to music that normally could easily give him a headache.

He'd felt so inspired by Peter's giddiness, he helped him cook. Even with his lackluster skills, Jason likes to think he contributed plenty to the casserole dish. Even if most of his 'help' consisted of distracting kisses to Peter's lips every time he found an opportunity.

So now they're at the apartment above the bookstore, Peter carrying the dish, and Jason clinging to his arm. He pauses to nuzzle him once they make it through the door.

"If my father could see us now, he would probably have a heart attack," Jason informs Peter with a smile that suggests he isn't entirely sorry by such an idea, awful as it probably is for a son to feel that way about a parent. He leans in and presses a warm kiss to Peter's cheek still a bit chilled from the frosty air.

Peter is so utterly thrilled by the display of affection that he scrunches his nose up, delighted. Contributing, too, is the idea of pissing Jason's father off with the purest of love; Peter loves to imagine how Master McConnell would implode if he saw his boy playing house with his school roommate. The dramatic irony is not lost on Peter and in fact, he revels in it. Some nights he dreams of all that he wishes he could say to that bigoted, terrible man.

"We should be so lucky," Peter murmurs, borrowing a turn of phrase from Jason's dear twin sister. He can still see his breath even in the hallway and when Jason's face departs from Peter's he notices how cold he is. He's eager to get inside where it's warmer.

Thankfully, it is as warm as he hopes once they're inside and after depositing the dish in the kitchen and greeting the hosts, Peter finds Jason once again with some cider and hands a cup to Jason. "Even if you don't want it, just hold it. It's so warm." He holds his steaming cup between two hands, letting the warmth do what it can to un-numb his skin.

God, Jason loves when Peter scrunches his nose. Like an overjoyed rabbit. It makes him giddy to the point of ridiculousness, and he's sure it shows in his face. He doesn't care. This afternoon, they're around friends - already like the actual family Jason's longed for all of these years. He doesn't waste another thought on his father, a whole world away, when he has Peter next to him.

Jason can't help but snort at that. Nadia's words coming out of Peter's mouth. It's adorable and delightful all at once. He presses another kiss to Peter's cheek, unable to help himself. "Peter Simmonds, and here I thought you wouldn't ever hurt a fly," he teases him, eyes bright both from the cold and the joy that bubbles up in being so close to Peter.

Jason happily accepts the cider once Peter offers it to him, savoring just the warmth of it as he holds it for a moment. He takes a sip a second later, letting the spice and liquid warmth settle down to his stomach. He grins.

"It's perfect," he says. "Just like you."

"I wouldn't hurt a fly that didn't deserve it," Peter murmurs. He tries to be bitter, but his heart is fit to burst and the tone never quite reaches that ire he feels underneath all of the promise of the day. Already, Jason's been more affectionate in public and every since day that passes makes Peter feel more and more like he has a real boyfriend. There are people that know, some of which (like Beth) Jason may not even be aware of, and Peter feels no shame now that Jason's seems to be melting away, as well. He wonders for the millionth time if Jason's comfort is due in some part to Spencer and Luke and he remembers once again that he needs to do something for them to show his gratitude.

He's pulled out of his grateful little trance by Jason's words and he flushes. He's so cold that the heat is uncomfortable and he tries another drink of the cider to try and right himself.

"You can't say things like that and expect me not to kiss you," Peter warns playfully. Instead, he brushes his fingers through the front of Jason's hair, away from his eyes. Small things like that -- fixing his boyfriend's hair -- these things do much more than the cider to warm Peter up.

Peter tries to sound annoyed and fails; it's like watching a kitten getting fed up with its own tail. Jason grins, caught up in the adorableness of Peter's efforts. He can see in Peter's face the way his heart is nearing fit to burst. Like Jason's own. Jason knows he still has so much more to go in improving himself. He does need to fully come out; for both Peter and himself. But he's grateful, so grateful, that Peter has been so patient with him thus far. He can't help but lean in to press another kiss to Peter's cheek.

God, but Peter is so cute when he gets cold. His button-nose turns red and he looks like a Raggedy Andy doll. Jason smiles wide over his own cup of cider, leaning in to press a kiss to that nose.

"Maybe I said it because I wanted you to kiss me," he replies with a playful grin back. And then Peter's fixing his hair, and Jason's breath catches. It's such a small gesture and yet it warms down to his very soul.

Again, Peter wrinkles his nose in the wake of that disarming kiss. Jason's mouth creates a constant struggle within Peter and not kissing him proves to take more and more effort as time goes on, especially when Jason's getting bolder as time goes on.

He hears Jason's words, then, and his hand falls from Jason's hair. Peter's aware that he's staring, trying to figure out how much Jason meant it, if he could kiss Jason, finally, right then and there without fear of being pushed away or scolded for it. He realizes that there's a very easy way to find out.

"May I kiss you, then?" Peter asks, cheeks flushing deeper at how formal and silly the request actually sounds once it's fallen from his face. The need to do it burns dangerously in his chest, but he won't do it without Jason's implicit consent. He'll fight the disappointment with valor, if he needs to, because one little step back doesn't damage the hundreds of steps forward Peter feels they've taken just since they walked through the door.

Jason wants to frame that nose wrinkle. He wants to frame it and wrap it in soft blankets and carry it around in his hands like a child running around with his favorite stuffed animal, he adores it that much. There's something so innocent and wondrous about how Peter's whole face lights up with that one gesture. It's its own kind of magic, and Jason is utterly enthralled; it gives him courage and lends him strength. Peter's expressions of love enable Jason's boldness.

Jason knows what it is he's just said. His chest tightens, and the tips of his fingers are trembling. But he smiles crookedly at Peter; he ignores his own shaky breaths. He knows what he's said.

"I would like it very much if you kissed me." The words are hardly louder than a whisper. They fall like wayward snowflakes from Jason's lips. His own countenance is flushed; warmed by the heat Peter's closeness inspires in him, and the possiblity that looms before them now. Jason scuffles his feet a bit, as though he were ten and nervous again.

It's a moment that is obviously so fragile in its innocence that Peter finds himself stalling for a moment. Maybe he's misunderstood. A quick look into Jason's big blue eyes, nearly Anime-like in their size and luminosity, proves that no, he was not mistaken. He wants to look around, to see if there's anyone looking; at once, he remembers he doesn't care. In fact, he's ready to be brave enough not to check at all.

There's a small, gentle smile that turns up Peter's lips as he takes a step in to close the remaining distance between them. With that step, he crosses the line between what was and what is. What could be. He's aware that his hands are probably still quite cold, so he shifts the cup of cider to the cooler of his two hands, freeing up the freshly-warmed one to anchor against the softness of Jason's cheek. There is no pressure, he doesn't hold him there, but simply uses this gentle contact as an anchor to keep himself present. All of the bravery and love that shines from Jason's eyes do what the cider can't to warm him and finally, he cranes his neck to kiss Jason's lips gently, tenderly.

The kiss lasts only a couple of seconds in the name of decency and patience. When Peter's eyes reopen, he finds Jason's gaze again and can't help but press one last, even shorter kiss to his mouth before moving the warmer of his hands from Jason's face to hold his hand. One big gesture subsides into a smaller, more comfortable one, and Peter dares to break his awed gaze from his boyfriend to take a drink of his cider.

Jason feels his breath as it falters in his chest as Peter steps in closer. Jason's whole being tightens, like a wound up rubber band precisely before it's flung. This is a definite step for himself, small as it may be. Like one of his favorite Christmas movies says, 'it's one foot in front of the other.' Jason can't help his nerves, but he also refuses to succumb to them. Not this time. Not when Peter's here, moving in closer, and the space between them diminishes so wonderfully, like the flickering light of a fading candle.

He lets out a soft breath at Peter's hand on his cheek, leaning into the touch. Anyone glancing at the two of them that moment would be able to see the depths of what Jason feels for Peter in the way he almost sways into his hand. The warmth from both the cider and Peter's own essence rushes through Jason like a fever. And then Peter's kissing him, and Jason doesn't give one single damn about anything or anyone else in the room surrounding them.

It's a quick kiss, but fervent and loving. Jason kisses back as much as he can before Peter pulls back. And then Peter's holding his hand again, and Jason's smiling so wide his face hurts.

"Thank you," he tells him.

Seeing Jason so ecstatic in the wake of their kiss sends Peter's stomach into a gymnastic routine, full of flips and possible jazz hands. He's gripping Jason's hand so tightly, feeling his love grip back, and what's more, Jason's thanked him for doing it. That's certainly not what happened at the rave or Ivy's party or, or, or.... the list of aborted stolen kisses was endless. Not anymore. The consistently replenishing supply of love has replaced its preceding bottomless well of doubt and confusion. Not for the first time in that day alone, he feels divinity touch his life as his loved ones touch his heart.

"Thank you for letting me do it," he vollies back, meeting Jason's eyes and then he's laughing. What a polite exchange over something they'd been told would turn them to heathens. Come to think of it, his little same-sex relationship is the least vicious relationship he's ever seen in his life. He rests his head on Jason's shoulder, taking in the scene around him like they're the audience watching a slice-of-life play take place around them. Spencer and Luke playing house. Magnus being utterly fabulous as he gravitates toward Alec. All of the new faces of the people that were friends yet to be made. Thanksgiving with his boyfriend. Maybe prayers really do get answered.

When his drink has been consumed, he comes around from his position as a spectator considering the holiday dream he's been allowed. People seem to be beginning to fill their plates and Peter's stomach reminds him that they came here with a purpose. "Want to get some food?" Peter's pretty sure that if he's hungry, Jason is. That boy's teenage metabolism is a force to be reckoned with.

Peter's holding his hand so tightly, it almost hurts. But Jason doesn't care; the almost-pain is so worth it for the expression on Peter's face. The brightness in his eyes, and the way his own soul seems to soar from the aftermath of that kiss and the way their hands still fit perfectly together after all of this time. This is the opposite of so many stolen moments at Saint Cecilia's. This is lightness and love and openness. And while all of that still intimidates Jason in some ways, he finds that, mostly, he has yet another reason to be especially grateful this Thanksgiving.

Peter thanks him too, and then he's giggling. Jason snorts, almost rolls his eyes out of sheer fondness, and then he's giggling too. It is a little absurd, the politeness of thanking someone for a kiss. But Jason knows Peter deserves to hear such thanks. He owes so much more gratitude to Peter, he knows. Peter rests his head on Jason's shoulder, and Jason, in turn, presses his head against his, following Peter's gaze to the room around them. It's hard to believe that could have ever found such a warm environment full of open people accepting of who they are. It's so goddamn wonderful.

Jason's stomach answers Peter's inquiry for him with a loud and rumbly growl. Jason blushes, ducking his head a bit. "My stomach says hell yes," he says, grinning.

God, Jason is just too, irresistibly adorable. Even after jackets have been shed, he's still got a few layers on to combat the cold, but his shape is still clearly discernible underneath the fabric. The lights seem to bend around his hair, sort of curly and sort of perfect. A combination of cold and the extreme opposite from the kiss has his skin a little flushed to begin with, and now he's blushing and--

Peter shakes his head. Goddamnit, he thinks. He never stood a chance in resisting this man. Peter wonders, sometimes, if he wished Jason into being. He hopes that if that had been so, he'd have chosen better parents for his fantasy soulmate.

Illustrating that inability to resist, Peter kisses him once more, only able to contain his smile for the duration of that quick, nearly natural-feeling little kiss. Peter's stomach flips again. "I'm gonna get some wine first, so I'll meet you at the table." He squeezes Jason's hand before letting go and turns back to ask, "you want some too, right?"

"Penny for your thoughts, sir?" Jason teases, leaning in close to nuzzle against Peter's flushed, freckled cheek as he shakes his head. Peter is still so precious and wonderfully dorky even after everything that's happened to them. Jason cannot help but feel amazed by his boyfriend's utter goodness. Especially as he still feels so imperfect and awkwardly settling into his new life, himself.

Jason grins at the second kiss; he reaches out to grab Peter's chin and elongate said kiss, unable to help himself. His eyes glisten when they part at last.

"Wine sounds great," he says, squeezing Peter's hand in return. "I'll try to leave some turkey for the rest of the party."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[turkey day, nov 21]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject