Raf/Porter: “You’re gonna become huge if you keep eating all of Santa’s cookies.”, Porter/Hester: ♡
@obaraisms do u see this filth
PORTER & SALSA
“You’re gonna become huge if you keep eating all of Santa’s cookies.”“And you just want them for yourself, you greedy, egomaniacal, imperialist–”“I’M WELSH. YOU ARE IN WALES–”
WE HAVE NO COLONIAL AMBITIONS, he wants to finish, but instead, Pierce settles for punching Salsa in the arm before snatching up a handful of Mum’s unfrosted gingerbread men for himself. Raf gives a loud cry of pain (total mockery), and before they know what’s what, they tackle one another and slam onto the linoleum floor, limbs thrashing and curses flying. Because they are adults.
One of them, however, is more of an Adult than the other.
“Jesus– Christ– on a crucifix–”“What’s with the religious conversion, Ace?”“My back…”
Salsa pinches the bridge of his nose (a very Porter-isian mannerism, he’d make a note to bother him about it later if he weren’t enduring searing pain in his backside) before offering a hand to help his friend up and over to the couch. While Raf moves off to get an ice pack, Pierce pulls aside the drapes for a moment to see if Mum and Hester are back from the shops. They’re not. Which is good.
“Why don’t you just fix me?” he complains once the ice pack is sitting neatly on the small of his back. Salsa flips through the channels on the telly idly before settling on some telenovela. Of course. He doesn’t even bother to look at him.
“I will, eventually, but you just love getting fussed over, even if you won’t admit it. My gift to you. Merry Christmas.”
Well, he can’t fault that, but he’s going to try. Pierce pointedly ignores Raf’s shit-eating grin and groans long and low into a throw pillow. After a long while, he’s recovered enough to lift his head and sniff a little pitifully.
“Your first visit to Mum’s, and you break her favorite son’s back.”“You’re not even your mother’s favorite Porter, Porter.”
///
♡ PESTER
Our muses kiss under a mistletoe.
“Alright, let’s review. First thing to do in the new year–”“Make a doctor’s appointment.”“Good. And then, assuming that, you know, goes well…”“Cut down on drinks. And coffee.”“That’s actually the fourth task, but I’ll give it to you.”
The morning after The Christmas Party, Pierce and Hester lie side-by-side on their living room floor, their breakfast plates licked clean and piled on the coffee table. It took Porter a while to reach a conclusion, but he’s decided to write out their list of tasks on paper. There is the risk that someone might find it lying around, but that risk is much smaller than the risk he’d take if he typed the list up on his computer. Evie and Galen aren’t to be trusted. All he has to do is put the list somewhere away from prying eyes.
With the company they keep, it’s easier said than done.
Hester gazes at him, chin in hand and stupid hearts in her eyes, and causes him to lose his train of thought for a hot second.
“Um. What else?”“You can get those vitamins for me. And I think they make some for dads–”“Calm down. I’m not a dad yet.”“Actually, you kind of are.”“Fair point.”
She’s been sidling closer to him for their entire conversation. Pierce rolls his eyes to the ceiling. That’s when he notices the mistletoe. He glances back at Sands, who glances back at him coyly.
“I’ll start cooking healthier food. We can still have cheesecake after, though…”“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”“Shhh. Oh. I read that you should stop putting your laptop on your crotch, too.”“Okay. That’s a weird one, and it sounds fake, but okay. How long are we waiting, again?”“A month or two, just to adjust, then we can go all in.”“And we’re not going to track your… self… or anything?”“Ovulation. Come on, Porter, you need to know–”“I do know!”
He’s just trying to be Suave and Subtle about it. And failing. As always. Sands sighs and pulls the pen out of his hand, setting it aside. After rolling him onto his back, she crawls on top of him, blanket and all, and cups his face with her hands.
“You said you just wanted us to be ourselves.”“I do, Hettie.”“And… and you’re sure?”“As I’ll ever be.”
She presses a soft kiss to the tip of Pierce’s nose (it’s just as sweet as a kiss on the lips, honestly); it’s Pierce who takes hold of Hester’s chin and makes sure they get an actual Mistletoe Kiss, all warm and fuzzy and cozy, before she buries her face in his chest.
“Then… we will.”
