Fic: Skins: Coming Home for Christmas (Counting Candles 2/3).
Title: Coming Home for Christmas (Counting Candles 2/3).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Rating: PG-13 - strong language.
Characters: Maxxie, Chris, Tony and a bit of Jal, Michelle and Effy.
Pairings: Maxxie/OC, Tony/Maxxie, Chris/Jal.
Prompt: 092. Christmas.
Word count: 2,941.
Disclaimer: The show’s not mine. Sadly I wasn’t clever enough to think of it first.
Summary: In an impromptu bid to cheer Maxxie up and get him out of his slump, Rupert decides to throw him a birthday party. A mistake, as this shortly leads to an unexpected trip back home and an encounter with someone Maxxie was sure was out of his life for good.
A/N: Unbeta’d so there are probably errors of epic proportions. For this, I am sorry.
Part 1: Another Year Older.
Coming Home for Christmas
It was the last place Maxxie had expected to be this Christmas. Yet, there he was, leaning over the railings of the harbour, staring down at the water as a joint burnt away between his fingertips. He blinked and then brought it to his lips, taking a long drag, drowning in the lost sensations. He hadn’t done this for a very long time.
Annoyingly, Rupert had thought the idea to pay a visit to his dad was a brilliant one, he was working over Christmas after all and Maxxie would have been alone in the house most of the time. He could only pester Emma and Rob for so long. Maxxie hated him for being so encouraging.
Sighing as he thought about Rupert, his gaze moved over to the row of bars opposite and Maxxie had a sudden urge to go drinking again. Cocking his head, he leant in closer to his companion and then passed the joint over swiftly. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you to another one?’ he asked hopefully.
There was a dry laugh and for a moment Maxxie found himself swallowed up by smoke, his eyes stinging as he waited for it to clear.
‘That depends; do you still want to have everything attached in the morning?’ came the retort, deadly serious in its delivery.
Maxxie stared, bit his lip and refrained from commenting.
Silence followed for a minute or so and then Chris burst out laughing, shoving at his arm playfully as he took another drag from the rollup burning away in his hand. ‘Jesus Maxxie, you’re so fucking gullible,’ he chortled. ‘This is Jal we’re talking about here, like she cares anymore. Besides, she’s easy enough to get around.’ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his latter comment.
‘Fuck off!’ Maxxie snorted. ‘I do not need to know.’
More laughter and then Chris dropped the end of the joint into the water, watching for a moment as it created ripples on the calm surface.
‘She keeps talking about kids.’ This time he really was serious. ‘I mean, shit, can you imagine a couple of mini me’s running around the place?’
‘Doesn’t bear thinking about,’ muttered Maxxie, folding his arms across the railings.
‘Exactly.’
Silence again.
‘So, you and him, do you think you’ll-‘
Maxxie looked over pointedly and Chris cut himself off quickly.
The question was answered regardless.
‘No, we won’t,’ Maxxie replied softly. ‘Not now. Not ever. He doesn’t want any of that stuff. Now shut the fuck up, you’re the last person I want to have this conversation with.’
They both returned their attention back to smoking pretty sharpish after that and an hour later Chris was unlocking the door to the flat he shared with Jal, stumbling inside. Maxxie had been given the couch and the place Jal currently inhabited, curled up in one of Chris’s t-shirts and a baggy pair of PJ bottoms, for the duration of his stay.
As they stepped into the living room, she glanced up fleetingly, her dark eyes void of emotion, TV remote clutched tightly in her right hand. ‘How was your night?’ she questioned, her gaze moving back to the colours flickering across the screen.
Chris shrugged. ‘All right,’ he answered, tossing his jacket down onto an empty chair and heading straight for the bedroom.
For a moment, Maxxie stood there motionless, not really knowing what to do with himself, but then Jal switched the TV off and got to her feet, stifling a small yawn with the back of her hand. ‘Night, Maxxie,’ she said with an awkward smile, following after Chris, and then five seconds later he found himself alone.
He sighed, pulling layers of clothing off slowly as he walked over to the spot she’d abandoned and then flopped down onto the couch, kicking his shoes under the table and beginning to look around a little.
Their flat was nothing to write home about. Small, cramped and dated, it wasn’t somewhere you’d choose to spend an awful lot of time in on first looks. Yet, at the same time, it was a place you didn’t want to leave. Warm, welcoming and homely, you knew a lot of love had gone into making it so. Jal would be responsible for that of course.
Maxxie smiled, grabbing a cushion and punching it into shape before laying his head down and watching the lights flicker on the Christmas tree, chasing one another across the branches. It didn’t take long until the motions sent him spiralling into a deep sleep.
He awoke late the next morning to the sound of Jal talking to someone on her mobile phone, and moved to prop himself up on his elbow and peer over the top of the couch. She was sat at the kitchen table, a large mug in front of her and a tube of mascara and a compact mirror clutched in her free hand. Upon spotting him, she gave a half-hearted wave and then rolled her eyes as she indicated the phone. Maxxie laughed softly and then got up from his comfy spot to get his day started.
Once he was showered and dressed in some clean clothes, Maxxie joined her in the kitchen, fixing himself some toast and collapsing into one of the chairs. The table was overflowing with paperwork, half written Christmas cards and coffee cups, Jal’s make-up scattered over numerous important looking documents.
When Jal finally finished her phone call, she snapped the phone shut and reached for her coffee with a sigh. ‘I’m surrounded by fucking idiots,’ she growled. ‘I take one morning off, three fucking hours and they can’t even manage that on their own.’ Another sigh and then she glanced at him. ‘Going to visit your dad today?’ she asked.
Maxxie nodded, finishing off a mouthful of toast before he answered. ‘Tonight, yeah,’ he replied. ‘I’m meeting Chelle for lunch.’
Of course, Jal knew the reason he was really in Bristol, but she knew better than to mention it. Plus, she never really had grown out of her aversion to Tony. Loathing him came second nature to her; too much time spent hating him for Michelle’s benefit when they’d been in college.
Their conversation didn’t last much longer and by the time he finished his breakfast, she was racing off to save the day, her mobile phone pressed to her ear once more.
Maxxie spent the rest of his morning tidying up the kitchen for Jal before finally racing out of the flat himself at midday. He met Michelle at one of the bars on the harbour, slumped down into a large squishy armchair and indulged in a huge bowl of curly fries and mayonnaise while she told him about her last year in France. Alexis was, of course, the main topic of conversation, with his devilish good looks and glowing personality.
It didn’t take long for Maxxie to grow bored of that particular topic of conversation and he changed the subject abruptly, opting to talk about the friends he hadn’t managed to see that year. She humoured him for a little while but soon steered his thoughts towards Rupert and asked question after question.
‘Are you happy, Max?’
The question came from nowhere and he choked on the forkful he’d just put into his mouth, reaching for his drink and downing half of the glass before even contemplating a reply.
‘Of course I am,’ he supplied, lowering his eyes.
Maxxie stabbed viciously at a stray fry sitting in the bottom of his bowl, shoving it into his mouth and Michelle glared at him.
‘Don’t lie to me,’ she murmured, her own hands curling around the mug set in front of her. ‘Something’s wrong, you wouldn’t be here if there was nothing wrong.’ She feigned sincerity and he found himself getting annoyed with her. ‘Is everything OK with you and Rupert?’
Sighing in agitation, he threw his fork down and then folded his arms across the table in front of him, looking at her head on, deciding to broach the subject. ‘Why do you even care, Michelle? You’re the one who was so desperate for me to come and see Tony; surely that’s all that matters to you, making sure he’s happy.’
Michelle looked vaguely guilty as she whispered, ‘That isn’t true, Max. That isn’t true at all.’
‘I love him so much…’ His words were barely heard as a group of people sat down at the table beside theirs. ‘He means the fucking world to me.’
Opposite him, she stayed quiet, biting apprehensively on her lower lip and regarding him with sympathy.
‘But I think he just puts up with me now…’ Maxxie paused and knotted his hands into his hair, dropping his head down in defeat. ‘I’ve not been the easiest person to live with since my accident and it’s starting to wear on him. At least, that’s how it feels to me anyway.’
‘Rupert’s hardly going to give up on you ‘cause you’ve had a tough couple of months,’ she responded, pushing her mug aside and reaching a hand across the table to take hold of his. ‘You’re worrying about nothing.’
‘What if he’s getting bored?’ he questioned, glancing up a moment.
Michelle shook her head and then laughed very gently, simply answering, ‘No one could ever get bored of you.’
Perhaps not, but he couldn’t help the niggling feeling that all was not well in paradise anymore and he had no idea whatsoever on how to remedy it.
The evening spent at his dads, was as expected; quiet and awkward. They didn’t talk much these days, so chose to spend the time watching TV instead, some Christmas special they showed every year. Maxxie sank down into his seat; arms folded across his chest, staring blankly at the screen as a troop of line dancer’s heeled and toed their way across it.
Unsurprisingly, his dad dropped to sleep by eight and Maxxie decided to spend his last couple of hours there in his bedroom, looking through drawers and old photograph albums. He frowned a little; tugging open the final drawer, the one at the bottom of his wardrobe that always got stuck and ended up spilling its contents all over the floor whenever he managed it.
Today was no exception.
He huffed slightly, sitting back on his heels and then began to sort through the contents; a packet of chewing gum, several newspaper clippings, an old copy of Attitude magazine (dated July 2008) and two DVD cases - one empty, one not. Immediately, he took the DVD from its case, moving across the room to pop it into the player. It was a home made one; the scrawl across the front could just about be identified as Sid’s.
New Year 2009.
Maxxie stared at the control anxiously before finally hitting play a minute later. He moved to grab a pillow off the bed and then leant back against the leg, pulling his knees up to his chest as Sid’s amateur video began to play. It had been the last year they’d all spent together. He’d been nineteen and, unfortunately for him, madly in love with the one guy who would never love him back.
The familiar and somewhat haunting laugh sounded in the background of the tape as Chris took hold of the camera; more interested in filming Jal as she searched for something that had fallen down the back of the couch than in what Sid had been saying. Anwar was perched on the arm of the chair nearest Jal, pointing and raising his eyebrows suggestively as she wriggled about.
The only one missing had been Michelle. She’d chosen to stay at University that year with her new boyfriend.
Pressing his lips together in a tight line, Maxxie finally caught a glimpse of the sight he’d been dreading; himself and Tony curled around each other in one of the armchairs. His hands were buried in Tony’s dark hair, stroking lightly as the older boy sat talking animatedly to Cassie. She seemed unperturbed by Maxxie’s one-sided behaviour.
He sighed, turning away from the screen, merely listening as Tony began to speak to the camera instead. His words flowed like silk, syllables following each other like they were meant to be that way and then, more tenderly, ‘Leave off, Max… not in public.’
Maxxie cautiously looked back at the TV, faltering, and then leant forwards to turn it off, jumping back to his feet before he changed his mind. He checked his watch briefly and then after noting the time, made a beeline for the door, slipping out before his dad stirred in time for the Ten O’Clock News.
Fifteen minutes later he was following a middle-aged couple into an apartment building, his heart thundering in his chest. He darted into the lift after them, leaning back against the mirrored wall as the doors closed with a hallow sounding clunk. Letting a breath go, he closed his eyes to the world around him and ignored the look he received from the lady stood beside him.
The hallways upstairs were much the same as the lobby downstairs; dark wooden floors and cream and red wallpaper that looked as though it belonged in a 1950’s film and should have been decorating the walls of a hotel somewhere in Manhattan.
Maxxie followed the grain of the wide floorboards, his eyes flitting occasionally to the brass numbers nailed upon each door.
It didn’t take as long as he thought it would to find number 12 and he came to a stop in front of the mahogany panelled door two minutes later, his hands trembling slightly. He swallowed hard, pushing aside the desire to turn on his heel and leave, knocking instead and silently praying that someone would answer before he bottled it.
There was a brief kerfuffle behind the door and then it swung open, Tony standing there as bold as brass, his usually bright eyes hidden behind a mass of dark, ruffled hair.
He didn’t appear surprised to find Maxxie stood there and flashed a grin a moment later, commenting, ‘Chelle said you might stop by. I didn’t think it’d be quite this late, but what the hell.’
Seconds later Maxxie found himself stood in the middle of Tony’s apartment, Tony wandering off to fix drinks immediately. He gave himself a moment to take in his surroundings; one large room with an equally large corner couch in it and a massive flat screen TV set just in front of the window. Curled up on the mat sat Effy and abandoned on the glass coffee table; the remains of a Chinese takeaway and a half finished bottle of wine.
By the time Tony reappeared, clutching a second bottle in his hand and another glass, Maxxie was sinking down onto the couch and shrugging off his jacket.
Surprisingly, there was a Christmas tree in the room, placed to the left of the television set and strewn with white fairly lights and silver baubles. One solitary present sat beneath the branches, a small box wrapped in blue paper with a piece of ribbon tied in a neat bow around it.
‘From Ef,’ Tony supplied as he sat down, passing a freshly poured glass of red wine across. ‘She always gets me something.’
His sister didn’t move at the mention of her name but continued to channel surf on his impressive TV, pausing momentarily as The Nightmare Before Christmas flickered onto the screen. Her mouth curled up into the beginnings of a smile before the picture changed again to be replaced by someone screaming on EastEnders. She looked so small and childlike sat there, dressed in one of Tony’s oversized jumpers and a pair of tight fitting jeans, her limbs tangled together.
Maxxie blinked and looked away from her, his focus drawn instead to Tony as he laid an arm across the back of the couch, stifling a yawn. ‘Christmas Eve and you’re spending it with me, anyone would think you cared,’ he commented, emitting a soft laugh.
‘Yeah, you wish.’ The venom in Maxxie’s voice wasn’t quite as real as he wanted it to be. ‘I have better places to be.’
He didn’t know why he’d said it; it was hardly true and Tony caught on right away.
‘Why aren’t you there then?’ he asked, tilting his head, a smirk teetering on his lips.
Sighing, Maxxie downed the glass he had clutched in his hand, whispering, ‘Because I’m an idiot maybe.’
An hour passed before anyone said anything more and quite unexpectedly, it was Effy who first made her thoughts known. She rose from her position on the floor, stretching up toward the ceiling, twirling her mass of dark hair around her fingers and then looking at them both sat there motionless. She laughed; a very short and sharp sound that made Maxxie jump.
‘You can fuck now if you want,’ she said simply.
Her feline features contorted into a smile and then she shrugged her slim shoulders, disappearing into the bathroom a second later. Maxxie caught a glimpse of her as she stripped Tony’s jumper off, exposing her naked back to them before the door abruptly slammed shut.
‘She-’ he started, but words failed him and he reached out blindly for the wine bottle again, not bothering to pour a glass.
Tony chuckled, amused and impassive, and merely commented, ‘Fucking crazy.’ He tapped his nails against his own wineglass. ‘Knows what she’s talking about though, does our Effy. She always has.’
Maxxie stared, nonplussed, and then placed the bottle down on the floor. ‘Kinda wished she didn’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’
A grin was his only response.
fanfic100 Little Damn Table.
.x.
Author: x_moonshine_x
Rating: PG-13 - strong language.
Characters: Maxxie, Chris, Tony and a bit of Jal, Michelle and Effy.
Pairings: Maxxie/OC, Tony/Maxxie, Chris/Jal.
Prompt: 092. Christmas.
Word count: 2,941.
Disclaimer: The show’s not mine. Sadly I wasn’t clever enough to think of it first.
Summary: In an impromptu bid to cheer Maxxie up and get him out of his slump, Rupert decides to throw him a birthday party. A mistake, as this shortly leads to an unexpected trip back home and an encounter with someone Maxxie was sure was out of his life for good.
A/N: Unbeta’d so there are probably errors of epic proportions. For this, I am sorry.
Part 1: Another Year Older.
Coming Home for Christmas
It was the last place Maxxie had expected to be this Christmas. Yet, there he was, leaning over the railings of the harbour, staring down at the water as a joint burnt away between his fingertips. He blinked and then brought it to his lips, taking a long drag, drowning in the lost sensations. He hadn’t done this for a very long time.
Annoyingly, Rupert had thought the idea to pay a visit to his dad was a brilliant one, he was working over Christmas after all and Maxxie would have been alone in the house most of the time. He could only pester Emma and Rob for so long. Maxxie hated him for being so encouraging.
Sighing as he thought about Rupert, his gaze moved over to the row of bars opposite and Maxxie had a sudden urge to go drinking again. Cocking his head, he leant in closer to his companion and then passed the joint over swiftly. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you to another one?’ he asked hopefully.
There was a dry laugh and for a moment Maxxie found himself swallowed up by smoke, his eyes stinging as he waited for it to clear.
‘That depends; do you still want to have everything attached in the morning?’ came the retort, deadly serious in its delivery.
Maxxie stared, bit his lip and refrained from commenting.
Silence followed for a minute or so and then Chris burst out laughing, shoving at his arm playfully as he took another drag from the rollup burning away in his hand. ‘Jesus Maxxie, you’re so fucking gullible,’ he chortled. ‘This is Jal we’re talking about here, like she cares anymore. Besides, she’s easy enough to get around.’ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his latter comment.
‘Fuck off!’ Maxxie snorted. ‘I do not need to know.’
More laughter and then Chris dropped the end of the joint into the water, watching for a moment as it created ripples on the calm surface.
‘She keeps talking about kids.’ This time he really was serious. ‘I mean, shit, can you imagine a couple of mini me’s running around the place?’
‘Doesn’t bear thinking about,’ muttered Maxxie, folding his arms across the railings.
‘Exactly.’
Silence again.
‘So, you and him, do you think you’ll-‘
Maxxie looked over pointedly and Chris cut himself off quickly.
The question was answered regardless.
‘No, we won’t,’ Maxxie replied softly. ‘Not now. Not ever. He doesn’t want any of that stuff. Now shut the fuck up, you’re the last person I want to have this conversation with.’
They both returned their attention back to smoking pretty sharpish after that and an hour later Chris was unlocking the door to the flat he shared with Jal, stumbling inside. Maxxie had been given the couch and the place Jal currently inhabited, curled up in one of Chris’s t-shirts and a baggy pair of PJ bottoms, for the duration of his stay.
As they stepped into the living room, she glanced up fleetingly, her dark eyes void of emotion, TV remote clutched tightly in her right hand. ‘How was your night?’ she questioned, her gaze moving back to the colours flickering across the screen.
Chris shrugged. ‘All right,’ he answered, tossing his jacket down onto an empty chair and heading straight for the bedroom.
For a moment, Maxxie stood there motionless, not really knowing what to do with himself, but then Jal switched the TV off and got to her feet, stifling a small yawn with the back of her hand. ‘Night, Maxxie,’ she said with an awkward smile, following after Chris, and then five seconds later he found himself alone.
He sighed, pulling layers of clothing off slowly as he walked over to the spot she’d abandoned and then flopped down onto the couch, kicking his shoes under the table and beginning to look around a little.
Their flat was nothing to write home about. Small, cramped and dated, it wasn’t somewhere you’d choose to spend an awful lot of time in on first looks. Yet, at the same time, it was a place you didn’t want to leave. Warm, welcoming and homely, you knew a lot of love had gone into making it so. Jal would be responsible for that of course.
Maxxie smiled, grabbing a cushion and punching it into shape before laying his head down and watching the lights flicker on the Christmas tree, chasing one another across the branches. It didn’t take long until the motions sent him spiralling into a deep sleep.
He awoke late the next morning to the sound of Jal talking to someone on her mobile phone, and moved to prop himself up on his elbow and peer over the top of the couch. She was sat at the kitchen table, a large mug in front of her and a tube of mascara and a compact mirror clutched in her free hand. Upon spotting him, she gave a half-hearted wave and then rolled her eyes as she indicated the phone. Maxxie laughed softly and then got up from his comfy spot to get his day started.
Once he was showered and dressed in some clean clothes, Maxxie joined her in the kitchen, fixing himself some toast and collapsing into one of the chairs. The table was overflowing with paperwork, half written Christmas cards and coffee cups, Jal’s make-up scattered over numerous important looking documents.
When Jal finally finished her phone call, she snapped the phone shut and reached for her coffee with a sigh. ‘I’m surrounded by fucking idiots,’ she growled. ‘I take one morning off, three fucking hours and they can’t even manage that on their own.’ Another sigh and then she glanced at him. ‘Going to visit your dad today?’ she asked.
Maxxie nodded, finishing off a mouthful of toast before he answered. ‘Tonight, yeah,’ he replied. ‘I’m meeting Chelle for lunch.’
Of course, Jal knew the reason he was really in Bristol, but she knew better than to mention it. Plus, she never really had grown out of her aversion to Tony. Loathing him came second nature to her; too much time spent hating him for Michelle’s benefit when they’d been in college.
Their conversation didn’t last much longer and by the time he finished his breakfast, she was racing off to save the day, her mobile phone pressed to her ear once more.
Maxxie spent the rest of his morning tidying up the kitchen for Jal before finally racing out of the flat himself at midday. He met Michelle at one of the bars on the harbour, slumped down into a large squishy armchair and indulged in a huge bowl of curly fries and mayonnaise while she told him about her last year in France. Alexis was, of course, the main topic of conversation, with his devilish good looks and glowing personality.
It didn’t take long for Maxxie to grow bored of that particular topic of conversation and he changed the subject abruptly, opting to talk about the friends he hadn’t managed to see that year. She humoured him for a little while but soon steered his thoughts towards Rupert and asked question after question.
‘Are you happy, Max?’
The question came from nowhere and he choked on the forkful he’d just put into his mouth, reaching for his drink and downing half of the glass before even contemplating a reply.
‘Of course I am,’ he supplied, lowering his eyes.
Maxxie stabbed viciously at a stray fry sitting in the bottom of his bowl, shoving it into his mouth and Michelle glared at him.
‘Don’t lie to me,’ she murmured, her own hands curling around the mug set in front of her. ‘Something’s wrong, you wouldn’t be here if there was nothing wrong.’ She feigned sincerity and he found himself getting annoyed with her. ‘Is everything OK with you and Rupert?’
Sighing in agitation, he threw his fork down and then folded his arms across the table in front of him, looking at her head on, deciding to broach the subject. ‘Why do you even care, Michelle? You’re the one who was so desperate for me to come and see Tony; surely that’s all that matters to you, making sure he’s happy.’
Michelle looked vaguely guilty as she whispered, ‘That isn’t true, Max. That isn’t true at all.’
‘I love him so much…’ His words were barely heard as a group of people sat down at the table beside theirs. ‘He means the fucking world to me.’
Opposite him, she stayed quiet, biting apprehensively on her lower lip and regarding him with sympathy.
‘But I think he just puts up with me now…’ Maxxie paused and knotted his hands into his hair, dropping his head down in defeat. ‘I’ve not been the easiest person to live with since my accident and it’s starting to wear on him. At least, that’s how it feels to me anyway.’
‘Rupert’s hardly going to give up on you ‘cause you’ve had a tough couple of months,’ she responded, pushing her mug aside and reaching a hand across the table to take hold of his. ‘You’re worrying about nothing.’
‘What if he’s getting bored?’ he questioned, glancing up a moment.
Michelle shook her head and then laughed very gently, simply answering, ‘No one could ever get bored of you.’
Perhaps not, but he couldn’t help the niggling feeling that all was not well in paradise anymore and he had no idea whatsoever on how to remedy it.
The evening spent at his dads, was as expected; quiet and awkward. They didn’t talk much these days, so chose to spend the time watching TV instead, some Christmas special they showed every year. Maxxie sank down into his seat; arms folded across his chest, staring blankly at the screen as a troop of line dancer’s heeled and toed their way across it.
Unsurprisingly, his dad dropped to sleep by eight and Maxxie decided to spend his last couple of hours there in his bedroom, looking through drawers and old photograph albums. He frowned a little; tugging open the final drawer, the one at the bottom of his wardrobe that always got stuck and ended up spilling its contents all over the floor whenever he managed it.
Today was no exception.
He huffed slightly, sitting back on his heels and then began to sort through the contents; a packet of chewing gum, several newspaper clippings, an old copy of Attitude magazine (dated July 2008) and two DVD cases - one empty, one not. Immediately, he took the DVD from its case, moving across the room to pop it into the player. It was a home made one; the scrawl across the front could just about be identified as Sid’s.
New Year 2009.
Maxxie stared at the control anxiously before finally hitting play a minute later. He moved to grab a pillow off the bed and then leant back against the leg, pulling his knees up to his chest as Sid’s amateur video began to play. It had been the last year they’d all spent together. He’d been nineteen and, unfortunately for him, madly in love with the one guy who would never love him back.
The familiar and somewhat haunting laugh sounded in the background of the tape as Chris took hold of the camera; more interested in filming Jal as she searched for something that had fallen down the back of the couch than in what Sid had been saying. Anwar was perched on the arm of the chair nearest Jal, pointing and raising his eyebrows suggestively as she wriggled about.
The only one missing had been Michelle. She’d chosen to stay at University that year with her new boyfriend.
Pressing his lips together in a tight line, Maxxie finally caught a glimpse of the sight he’d been dreading; himself and Tony curled around each other in one of the armchairs. His hands were buried in Tony’s dark hair, stroking lightly as the older boy sat talking animatedly to Cassie. She seemed unperturbed by Maxxie’s one-sided behaviour.
He sighed, turning away from the screen, merely listening as Tony began to speak to the camera instead. His words flowed like silk, syllables following each other like they were meant to be that way and then, more tenderly, ‘Leave off, Max… not in public.’
Maxxie cautiously looked back at the TV, faltering, and then leant forwards to turn it off, jumping back to his feet before he changed his mind. He checked his watch briefly and then after noting the time, made a beeline for the door, slipping out before his dad stirred in time for the Ten O’Clock News.
Fifteen minutes later he was following a middle-aged couple into an apartment building, his heart thundering in his chest. He darted into the lift after them, leaning back against the mirrored wall as the doors closed with a hallow sounding clunk. Letting a breath go, he closed his eyes to the world around him and ignored the look he received from the lady stood beside him.
The hallways upstairs were much the same as the lobby downstairs; dark wooden floors and cream and red wallpaper that looked as though it belonged in a 1950’s film and should have been decorating the walls of a hotel somewhere in Manhattan.
Maxxie followed the grain of the wide floorboards, his eyes flitting occasionally to the brass numbers nailed upon each door.
It didn’t take as long as he thought it would to find number 12 and he came to a stop in front of the mahogany panelled door two minutes later, his hands trembling slightly. He swallowed hard, pushing aside the desire to turn on his heel and leave, knocking instead and silently praying that someone would answer before he bottled it.
There was a brief kerfuffle behind the door and then it swung open, Tony standing there as bold as brass, his usually bright eyes hidden behind a mass of dark, ruffled hair.
He didn’t appear surprised to find Maxxie stood there and flashed a grin a moment later, commenting, ‘Chelle said you might stop by. I didn’t think it’d be quite this late, but what the hell.’
Seconds later Maxxie found himself stood in the middle of Tony’s apartment, Tony wandering off to fix drinks immediately. He gave himself a moment to take in his surroundings; one large room with an equally large corner couch in it and a massive flat screen TV set just in front of the window. Curled up on the mat sat Effy and abandoned on the glass coffee table; the remains of a Chinese takeaway and a half finished bottle of wine.
By the time Tony reappeared, clutching a second bottle in his hand and another glass, Maxxie was sinking down onto the couch and shrugging off his jacket.
Surprisingly, there was a Christmas tree in the room, placed to the left of the television set and strewn with white fairly lights and silver baubles. One solitary present sat beneath the branches, a small box wrapped in blue paper with a piece of ribbon tied in a neat bow around it.
‘From Ef,’ Tony supplied as he sat down, passing a freshly poured glass of red wine across. ‘She always gets me something.’
His sister didn’t move at the mention of her name but continued to channel surf on his impressive TV, pausing momentarily as The Nightmare Before Christmas flickered onto the screen. Her mouth curled up into the beginnings of a smile before the picture changed again to be replaced by someone screaming on EastEnders. She looked so small and childlike sat there, dressed in one of Tony’s oversized jumpers and a pair of tight fitting jeans, her limbs tangled together.
Maxxie blinked and looked away from her, his focus drawn instead to Tony as he laid an arm across the back of the couch, stifling a yawn. ‘Christmas Eve and you’re spending it with me, anyone would think you cared,’ he commented, emitting a soft laugh.
‘Yeah, you wish.’ The venom in Maxxie’s voice wasn’t quite as real as he wanted it to be. ‘I have better places to be.’
He didn’t know why he’d said it; it was hardly true and Tony caught on right away.
‘Why aren’t you there then?’ he asked, tilting his head, a smirk teetering on his lips.
Sighing, Maxxie downed the glass he had clutched in his hand, whispering, ‘Because I’m an idiot maybe.’
An hour passed before anyone said anything more and quite unexpectedly, it was Effy who first made her thoughts known. She rose from her position on the floor, stretching up toward the ceiling, twirling her mass of dark hair around her fingers and then looking at them both sat there motionless. She laughed; a very short and sharp sound that made Maxxie jump.
‘You can fuck now if you want,’ she said simply.
Her feline features contorted into a smile and then she shrugged her slim shoulders, disappearing into the bathroom a second later. Maxxie caught a glimpse of her as she stripped Tony’s jumper off, exposing her naked back to them before the door abruptly slammed shut.
‘She-’ he started, but words failed him and he reached out blindly for the wine bottle again, not bothering to pour a glass.
Tony chuckled, amused and impassive, and merely commented, ‘Fucking crazy.’ He tapped his nails against his own wineglass. ‘Knows what she’s talking about though, does our Effy. She always has.’
Maxxie stared, nonplussed, and then placed the bottle down on the floor. ‘Kinda wished she didn’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’
A grin was his only response.
fanfic100 Little Damn Table.
.x.