three christmas tree ficlets for playing house, to the victor, & that old veela magic 🎄🎄🎄
a playing house christmas:
"Finn pooped under the Christmas tree."
It's the first thing Max says when Daniel emerges from their disaster of a storage space, dusty and cold and no closer to finding the old ornament of Ella's baby handprint she instantly clocked as missing and falsely accused them of breaking.
"Finn. He took a giant shit under the Christmas tree." Max gestures to the tree with a wrapping paper roll, looking flabbergasted. "He is in his nap now, so he cannot hear me shaming him."
"He--under the tree? Like, under it? Like an evil little anti-Santa?"
The skirt is missing, just the naked tree stand visible.
They're potty training Finn. Or whatever the non-shit parents call it. Finn is potty learning. He's had heaps of accidents, but none under a Christmas tree until now.
"Yes, under it. His very comfortable little baby potty is right there"--the wrapping paper roll stabs the air again--"but instead he wiggled his little bottom under the tree and squatted in all of these pine needles to do his shit under the tree."
"Ohh my god." Daniel barks out a big, honking laugh. "Maybe it's, like, the call of the wild, ya know? The ancient human urge to shit in the woods."
Max grins, shakes his head. "You are thinking of bears, Daniel."
Daniel laughs more. "What did you do?"
"I caught him mid-shit! I didn't--I just watched, stunned. In horror, Daniel. Just. Plop, plop. Before my eyes. Then I got it together to be like, Finn, poop goes in the potty and I moved him over to his little potty but of course nothing is coming out because all the giant shit is under the tree."
"Babe. I'm so sorry." Daniel's eyes are welling up with the force of his laughter; Max is cracking up too. "Can I hug you? Wait, did you wash your hands?"
"What! Oh my god, of course I washed my hands, you dickhead. You think I am standing here filthy talking to you with shit hands?"
Daniel darts forward, scrapes his teeth along the side of Max's neck. It's shaving cream burny and sweat salty, delicious.
"You are the one with this all covered in spiderwebs, oh my god." Max extracts a camouflaged cobweb from Daniel's silver curl. "You talk to me about washing hands looking like you have just broken out of a graveyard, unbelievable."
Daniel shoves his cold hands under Max's tight jumper, feels his warm, hairy belly. "I love you."
"Yes, fine. You get the next shit. And I hope it is, like, at least twice as big."
a to the victor christmas:
Alex eyes their Christmas tree with utter disdain. “This is just sad.”
Daniel cackles. “Should’ve stayed in the tree district, mate.”
“If I had five years and an unlimited budget I would still be unable to make a tree that ugly. Look at its gnarled little arms! It can’t even hold the ornaments. What happened to it?”
Max shrugs. “Daniel didn’t want to buy a genetically modified one. Evergreens don’t grow very well here. All the salt, you know.”
“Yeah. Our jizz.” Daniel waggles his eyebrows.
“You grew this? Here, at the beach?” Alex steps closer, reaching out to touch the monstrosity and then thinking better of it, holding his hand to his chest. “Please never have children.”
“What was that!” Charles cries. “Alex, did you see?”
Alex looks back at him. “See what? All I see is this dendritic disaster. It looks like a fucked up bush. How are the limbs both droopy and brittle?”
Charles glares. “I was not talking with you.”
“Okay, what did I miss?” Alex looks to George, who would never withhold information from him.
George points to Max and Daniel with a skewer of olives. “These two had a look.”
George nods sagely. “A look.”
Entering the room, Summer says, “I’m sorry, a what?”
Zelda’s right behind her. “Holy fuck, why does that tree look like a centenarian’s ballsack?”
When they have to spend Christmas apart, Daniel enchants their tree to give Max compliments.
At least that's what Max deduces.
Daniel could have just given the tree a few canned phrases, but no. He wanted to personalise it.
Personalised compliment charms aren't easy. Compliments are arbitrary things. You have to imbue the magic with your own thoughts and feelings; it's difficult to get it right.
On December 22nd, their tree, in Daniel's voice, scares the shit out of him by yelling, "Nice scarf!" as he's walking out the door.
On December 23rd, Max is showing his mum the guest room when the tree bellows to him, "I love your tight ass around my dick, homie!"
On December 24th, the tree says, "Even if I don't act like it, I know you're better than I am. I know--I know I might not have this forever but I can't help but be greedy for you while I've still got the chance."
On Christmas, Max shows the tree the ring he bought before it can offer another twisted retelling of Daniel's darkest thoughts. And to cut it off from any more ass talk since his sister and her kids are on their way. The tree is silent a long time. Then it says, apparently struggling to find something nice to say about the simple platinum band, "I reckon comfort fit isn't the worst shape you could have gone with, hey."
On Boxing Day, Daniel comes home. He's a lot nicer about the ring.
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