youfeelluckypunk | [turkey day, nov 21]

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[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.

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Jason arrives with Peter, his stomach a tangle of mixed emotions. He's thrilled to be attending a holiday dinner hosted by Spencer and Luke; he's even more thrilled to be attending it with his boyfriend. Still, even with the sea of faces that Jason mostly knows by now, he can't help but feel just a bit apprehensive. He finds himself holding onto Peter for as long as he can, before Peter goes to set the dish down and catch up with one of the guests he knows.

Jason puts on a McConnell smile before making his way around the room, savoring the variety of smells hanging heavy and delicious in the air; he tries to find comfort from them as his main source of comfort smiles and dazzles the room with his cherub-smile and sparkling eyes.

Jason finds his way to the drinks and grabs a cider for himself, hoping his nerves don't show too obviously.

As heavy as his eyelids are getting from all the food he's managed to put away this evening, Reid can't help but yearn for another cup of coffee and slice of pumpkin pie. All the guests seem to be occupied right now, engaged in conversation with each other, and Reid is warmed by just how satisfied every seems to be. It isn't often that all these people show themselves to be content (close enough, anyway) at the same time so to see it now, to see it happening in the home he shares with the man he loves, is something he's beyond thankful for on this day.

The only person he spots alone is Jason, though that seems to be more because he's busy grabbing a drink for himself and trying not to return his gaze to Peter every few seconds than anything else. Smiling to himself, Reid approaches him, nodding back toward the kitchen.

"I'm grabbing some more dessert," he says, "care to join me?"

Jason is still acclimating to the atmosphere of the apartment, even after dinner. The coziness and warmth feel just like how home is supposed to feel, he thinks. This Thanksgiving is, in so many ways, the polar opposite of what he's used to with his family. Here, there are no stiff greetings. No false smiles and hard-earned praise carelessly dropped in between gulps of shitty alcohol. There are no discussions of Jason's golden future, or subtle digs at Nadia for her appearance. Jason has Peter with him, and they're among wonderful friends, all of whom Jason deeply appreciates. He sighs as he finishes his spiced cider, basking in the overwhelming contentment he feels.

And then Spencer approaches, offering him a chance at more delicious food, and how can he refuse?

"I will never say no to more dessert," Jason says, grinning as he makes to follow the other man. "Sounds great, man."

Truthfully, Reid has more of an agenda than simply offering dessert, and he's pleased when Jason agrees to follow him. Once they reach the kitchen, he does reach for the serving knife by the pie, but he pauses to look up at Jason before he cuts a slice.

"Luke told me you got your diploma," he says softly, offering Jason a small smile. "I just wanted to let you know how happy I am for you. We haven't known each other long, but you and Peter are so..." Reid struggles to find the word, though it's not terribly difficult, he's just not sure it encompasses everything he wants to say. "So kind. I didn't have a lot of friends other than the people I worked with where I'm from, maybe I just didn't have the time to find the people who could be patient with me, I don't know; but it seems Darrow's been good for both of us."

In spite of all the horrible things he's seen, in spite of the ten days he and Luke had spent in that other version of Darrow, Reid is still happier here than he thinks he's ever been. This kitchen, it's his to share with the man he loves now, this entire apartment is a place he can call home, and the people in it today are more important to him than some of them may realize. The good outweighs the bad by far, and he ducks his head to hide his widening smile.

"Anyway, I'm not saying I'm going to bug you about going to college or anything, but I'm definitely going to bug you about going to college."

Jason is relaxed, and full, enough so that he doesn't suspect that Reid could possibly be leading him into the kitchen for anything other than more helpings of dessert. He moves to lean against the counter when Reid takes up the knife, moving as if to slice the pie. He pauses, and Jason arches an eyebrow at him, curious. He tenses a bit, wondering what this could possibly be about.

"Oh yes," he says, visibly relaxing when Reid mentions his recent gift from the city. "I did. With my first paycheck, as it turns out. Funny how that worked out." It seems just odd enough that Jason might even consider it fate. Or destiny. Or whatever people called it nowadays. He stares when Spencer mentions how kind Peter and he have been, a bit blown away by the compliment. "You've been so kind to us. We're just repaying the favor, honestly."

Jason grins, catching sight of Reid's smile, and ducks his head in turn. It feels so much like the old banter between him and Nadia. Even as his heart aches for her, he's happy to have Spencer to help ease the pain of missing his sister.

"Well, lucky for you, I am happy to be bugged about college," Jason replies, feeling giddier than he's ever felt in his life. And not just because of the glass of wine he drank earlier, either.

Sliding a slice of pie onto a plate (and not a plate one, Luke is ever serious about being green so Reid is fully prepared to attack a sink full of dishes once everyone's gone before he and his boyfriend can retire to bed), Reid lets out a low chuckle, one that's almost incredulous because he can't recall feeling so genuinely appreciated by people who weren't originally obligated to act that way. His teammates had all cared for him like a younger brother, he's no doubt of that, but it'd taken time for some more than others to get to that point. Reid doesn't really take issue with that, he's long since accepted he can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes, but it still surprises him a little how quickly he'd gone from having just one good friend in Luke to a great number of people who are important to him in just a few months.

It's nothing like the life he'd had back home, not even in the work he's doing, and Reid can't say he doesn't prefer it here.

He nudges the plate toward Jason, pointing out the forks before cutting a slice for himself as he hums his approval. "That's good to hear," he says, smiling because Jason's obvious enthusiasm for his new future is infectious. "Any idea what you want to study? In case nobody's told you this before, don't stress over it if you don't. I imagined myself doing so many different things before I ended up working for the FBI so it's not like you have to make a choice now and stick with it. Things can change, and that's okay."

Jason grins, delighted at the sight of the pie before him. His seemingly endless stomach growls again in anticipation of the sweet, delicious dessert. Reid's chuckling also helps to put him at ease. Jason's always been popular, but he can count the number of true, earnest friends he has back home on one hand. Reid, Luke, and their friends, in turn, are helping for that number to grow. Jason can't help but smile.

"I was kind of considering history or English," Jason admits, taking his plate and toying a bit with the fork as he speaks. "I've always loved those subjects best, I think. I really can't stand math," he adds. His father had so many lofty expectations for him: doctor, lawyer, businessman. All of which felt like another knot in the tightening noose around his neck back home.

"I'll probably play it by ear, to start."

Reid cringes, though it's more playful than anything else, and he can't hide his amused grin for too long. "I have a doctorate in Mathematics," he admits, "and a couple other things, though I never did get one for history or math." Admittedly, he's still always excelled in both subjects, but he hadn't pursued any sort of degree for them because he'd yearned for more of a challenge. Reading comes easily for him, of course, and committing things to memory is hardly a problem considering his eidetic memory; but he'd wanted to learn something that required him to apply his knowledge in a practical way and so, he'd gone a few different directions.

Still, it's not as if Jason's interests are lesser in some way, and Reid thinks it's at least better to be able to rule out things with certainty rather than waffle for too long.

"We were talking to Peter a bit earlier about school, as well, are you planning to start together? He mentioned starting in the Spring."

"Mathematics?" Jason arches an eyebrow at him. His father would love for Jason to major in a subject like that. Mathematics. Economics. Business. Law. Medicine. Anything that proved useful towards setting up the continued tradition of McConnells throwing their money at everything in their path to cover their own, internal miseries. The thought of it had killed Jason. Now he's alive, and in Darrow, and he has a world of choices available to him now. "That's one of the possibilities my dad had wanted for me."

He goes a bit quiet, mentioning his father. Even discussing him with Peter causes Jason headaches and tension in his neck and shoulders.

He brightens again at the mention of Peter, though.

"Oh, yes," he nods, grinning wide. "We were talking about maybe taking a class together or something."

Tilting his head, Reid studies Jason for a moment, noting the slight hint of distaste in the young man's tone when he mentions his father. It's all too familiar to Reid, of course, his own father having been absent from his life for so long that he doesn't even know what William could truly have wanted for him.

"My dad left when I was a kid," he says, offering a wry smile as he glances back down at his plate to pick at the pie with his fork. "I didn't see him again for... oh, nearly twenty years. I had my doctorates, had my degrees, and I always said that was my best form of revenge on him but when he saw me, all he could do was ask why I chose to join the FBI. He said I could be making money, work in the private sector, and I just-- even though I already knew, that only secured how impossible it would be to ever have a relationship with him again. He didn't know me at all, he never did."

Shrugging a shoulder, he sets his fork down, suddenly not very keen on eating anymore pie at all. It isn't unusual, he feels sick talking about his father often enough, and it won't be long before the bitterness on the tip of his tongue goes away; but that's hardly Jason's fault, so he tries to make his smile a little more genuine.

"Neither of our dads knew us, it seems. But we're allowed to choose our own paths. I'm glad you're getting the chance to do that here, without your dad hovering over your shoulder."

"I'm sorry," Jason replies, nearly automatically. Terribly, a part of him wonders what his own life would have been like if his father had left their family. Probably no better off than it was back home; his mother, most likely, would have found new vices to drown herself in. And then Jason cringes, feeling guilty for the selfish urge when Reid was confiding him. "That must have been awful."

He knows, too well, what it's like to have a father that doesn't know or understands his own children, though.

"I lived with my dad and he still didn't know me. Doesn't know me," he corrects, realizing that, back home, he is still dead and buried while his father lives. It's an odd thought; he shovels a piece of delicious pie into his mouth in an attempt to rid himself of it.

"Me too," he adds quietly, thoughtfully, after he chews and swallows. "And I'm so glad I have Peter here with me, too."

Magnus could see his nervousness from a mile away, but four hundred years of life made one sensitive to these things. All parties always had at least one person who did not feel at home, who wasn't in a celebratory mood, who felt as though he or she did not know anyone. In a party as intimate as this, Magnus had thought Alec would be the only one. He should have known better.

"So." Magnus sidled over as though to refill his glass of cider, but took up a spot standing beside the boy. "How many times have you had to listen to Lady Gaga?"

Jason, when he first arrives, and Peter moves off to greet someone he knows, doesn't know what to make of the party. Not that he's a stranger to parties. Generally, the parties he's used to consist of flashing lights, pills slipped under tongues, and bombastic music. And when he's dragged along to family functions, those sorts of celebrations are cold and distant. This gathering is neither of those; Jason finds himself grabbing a cider as he tries to figure out how to maneuver this lesser known environment.

Jason turns when Magnus sidles up next to him, offering him a flash of a grin. "More times than I can count. It's okay, though. It was worth it."

He's met Magnus briefly in passing before; how could he not, when Peter spoke so highly of him? He feels a bit less like a wallflower now, with Peter's friend standing next to him.

"You know, I don't know." Magnus wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, mulling over what was really worth a constant stream of Lady Gaga. He supposed if he was getting little makeout sessions out of it, he would put up with a lot. As it was, however... Peter wasn't putting out for Magnus. Magnus was just fine with that.

"Usually all I get out of it is the honor of making Peter food. And now an employee discount. It doesn't quite work out in my favor."

"Honestly, I've heard worse," Jason muses, swirling his drink a bit where it sits in his hand. "And Peter can make even crappy music bearable." He can't really object with more than a few, exaggerated pained faces when his boyfriend is singing and dancing around the kitchen. And squeaking as Jason keeps stealing kisses in between steps in the ingredients.

"Hey, Peter's food is pretty great," Jason points out, unable to resist standing up for him, as it where.

Magnus felt a flash of something at that simple little comment: Peter makes crappy things bearable. Not quite jealousy, not quite fondness. No part of him begrudged Jason and Peter their young love, but... maybe he missed it, those rose-colored glasses that had made him feel sick years ago.

"So I've learned," Magnus drawled. "Tonight. Up to this point, he's only moaned about the Hot Pocket situation."

He paused to wrinkle his nose at Jason. "Really, though. Hot Pockets?"

"Hey, Hot Pockets are like, a full course meal when you don't have time to cook," Jason says, shrugging. He doesn't have Peter's talents in the kitchen; he relies on microwaves and food that cooks in under five minutes. Before Saint Cecilia's, he'd had the family help to cook for him. In his own apartment, Jason is very much a spoiled fish out of water when Peter isn't around to help him.

"It's that, or Slim Jims," he says, suddenly realizing how very much he still sounds like his old, jock persona from high school. He almost winces at the thought.

He pulled a face, equal parts disgusted and judging, when Jason attempted to defend the honor of Hot Pockets. Magnus had eaten plenty of questionable things over his lifetime, including Hot Pockets, and he knew there were better options lurking in the freezer aisle.

He actually stuck out his tongue at the mention of Slim Jims. "How are you still alive?" Magnus marveled. "You poor boy. Did some priest tell you good food was evil?"

Jason has to laugh at the judgemental look on Magnus' face; he's seen that look on Peter's face countless times before, and the familiarity of it is as comforting as it is amusing. "I take it you and Peter have been discussing my dietary habits?"

At the mention of the priest though, Jason stiffens. His shoulders tense and his posture immediately straightens, as his laughter fades and his facial expression hardens. Jason hates himself for such a reaction, even as he can't help it.

"I don't really give much weight to the advice of priests," he says with a shrug that he's perfected since the age of twelve.

Magnus' eyes widened fractionally at the change in Jason's demeanor. It wasn't surprising to see, but Magnus had hardened himself to the worthless opinions of the religious ages and ages ago. He forgot what it was like to be young and to care, to let anyone's opinion truly affect him.

"Nor should you," he continued smoothly, pretending to ignore the hitch in Jason's sunny disposition. "Especially in food. They eat cardboard bread and drink poor wine every week." Magnus wrinkled his nose. "A step below Slim Jims in my opinion."

Jason ducks his head and bites on his lip, shame creeping throughout his bones for having such a strong reaction. He can't help it, though. He still remembers that cold, awful night. He still remembers banging on the door of the confessional, begging for the priest to let him in. And he still wakes up at night, covered in sweat, from the memory of the priest refusing him.

He does manage a smile at Magnus' response, grateful for it. "And not even, like, good poor wine, you know?" He asks. His heart is still heavy, but this banter with Magnus helps. "And is it actually made of cardboard? I've always wondered about that."

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[turkey day, nov 21]

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