CHRISTMAS AT THE CABIN: CHAPTER 6
Disclaimer/Rating: Same as previous chapters.
A/N: Okay, so this is the first of the in-law chapter set, which as of right now will probably have three chapters. For those of you who are reading the "Slashera" stoy and have not learned of Slade's past in regards to that story via "Behind the Mask" or messaging/speaking with me, there is a spoiler in this chapter. You have been warned. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and please comment!
“IT’S JUST NOT FAIR!!!!!” Jareth shouted, glaring at the empty plate before him and slamming his fists into the table. Trikk frowned, wearing an orange camisole under a black V-neck top and some American eagle Blue jeans, her hair in a braid down her back with an orange ribbon at the end. The author had been lounging a little in her chair at the table, but now she stared at the Fae, “Holy cow the fourth wall just fell.” Jareth frowned and turned to her, blinking, “The what?” “The fourth wall, dumbass,” Slade muttered, walking to the table with a big bowl of grits and sitting them near the Fae’s end of the table, “It’s an expression Trikk uses when something defies what once was one of the laws of reality in a universe.” He turned and marched back to the stove, wearing a black silk button down shirt and blue jeans. He wanted to look somewhat nice to go meet William, after all. “What made it fall?” Jareth said, blinking. Trikk stared at him, “You said something was not fair.” Jareth blinked at her, clueless at to what her point was. Slade chuckled a bit at how slow the Fae was to comprehend what Trikk meant. Trikk rolled her eyes, “You know, the thing that you got onto Sarah about so much for saying in your Labyrinth? Well, now you’ve said it. . .” Jareth frowned and turned to his plate, gazing at it for a moment. Then frowned and crossed his arms, growling out, “Well it’s not. . .”
nbsp; “Look, Trikk has gone over it with you,” Slade muttered, turning and walking back to the table with a bowl of scrambled eggs, frowning at the Fae, “She’ll go on a date with you to make up for her coming with me to Will’s party. Besides, it’s not really a date for us. It’s just so that I won’t have to face those people alone if she comes with me there, and she’s graciously consented to such a task.” Turning, he marched back to the stove and pulled some biscuits out of the oven.
“I’m not talking about that!” Jareth snapped, glaring at the man, then turned to Trikk, “I’m talking about the one time in his life that Slade was a hero!” he turned, staring at Slade, “How did it feel? Did it feel weird?” “No, because. . .” Slade began, but was cut off as he buttered the biscuits. “I mean, you’re a big tough villain, aren’t you? And for you to do something as heroic as save a damsel in distress! Wow! Talk about going against your character! If your other villains in your universe knew about that, what would they say? That you were going soft? Oh man, how does that feel?” “IT DOESN’T FEEL ANY WHICH WAY BECAUSE IT WASN’T A HEROIC THING THAT I DID!” Slade roared, whipping around, seething as he glowered at the Fae.
nbsp; Trikk frowned and turned to the red faced mercenary as he walked over with the platter of biscuits. “The simple fact is that I was protecting something that was mine: my author. . .” Slade snarled through his teeth. “Actually, I think you’ve got it backwards. . .” Trikk remarked, frowning at him, “You’re mine, in that you’re my character. . .” “Doesn’t matter,” Slade muttered, and turning, headed back to the stove to take some bacon that had been frying there out of its pan and onto a plate, “Regardless, I considered her a part of my family. The same as I consider Lilac, Slashera, and regrettably you a part of my family, Goblin King. And I simply chose to protect my family member. That’s all. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have interfered. . .” Trikk coughed, and glared back at Slade. “Well . . . not without Trikk threatening me in order to get me to do so . . .” the man quickly amended. She smirked a bit, content again. But Jareth wasn’t through with teasing Slade.
ldquo;Well, there’s a difference between interfering and almost killing the guy, isn’t there?” Jareth grinned at the man, “Admit it, you went the extra mile. I SMELL HEROISM!” “I think Batman would beg to differ,” Slade scoffed, and turning, marched to the table and sat the bacon down as well before turning around to go get some sausage he also had cooking, “According to him, if you want to kill someone and if you almost go through with it until you are stopped by an outside force, apparently you’re a villain. Not a hero . . . although how he expects to solve problems like Poison Ivy or the Joker permanently without killing them is beyond me. . .” he muttered the last part.
Jareth sighed, “Okay, fine, so it wasn’t heroic. I would have still liked to have been there. Maybe I could have tossed him into the Bog of Eternal Stench?” Jareth said hopefully. Slade smirked and turned his head, grinning at the Fae, “Now, I would have loved to help with that.” Jareth smirked, and Lilac sighed, on the other side of the sink from Slade, cutting up some fruit she’d peeled, “Then I guess it’s a good thing you weren’t there, Jareth. Trikk had enough of an issue getting Slade not to kill the man. I don’t know how she would have dealt with both of you.” “That’s the point: she wouldn’t have been able to. And that man would have gotten what he deserved,” Jareth smirked at the witch who had on a purple turtleneck and blue jeans with her hair back in a ponytail. “For once, I like the way you think, Goblin King,” Slade chuckled. “Great, it’s the one time the two of you agree, and it’s about something like this,” Trikk muttered, rolling her eyes. Jareth chuckled, as did Slade, “Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.” “Well, at least that phrase is more canon to your character,” Trikk said with a weak smile, just as Slashera ran in, grinning, “GOOD MORNING EVERYBODY!” she was wearing her jumpsuit, and she grinned, running over to Lilac, “CAN I HELP?!” Lilac smiled down at the child and nodded, “Of course. Can you carry this bowl of fruit to the table?”
Slashera beamed and taking the bowl took it to the table and sat it down near Trikk. Turning to the author, she grinned, “Did you sleep good, Mama Trikk?” Trikk turned to her and grinned, “Why yes, I did, little one. Did you?” she hugged the child tightly, and Slashera giggled, “Yes ma’am!” At that moment, Slade walked back to the table and sat down the sausage links before turning to the child, “Little one, would you mind helping me and Lilac with drinks?” She beamed up at him, nodded, and in no time, the three were setting drinks out at the table, along with honey, cheese, and strawberry, grape, and raspberry jelly.
nbsp; Once all five had eaten until their stomachs were full, Trikk and Slade and Lilac and Slashera all set about getting ready to leave. Jareth frowned in the living room as the group began to set up bags of things they would need to prepare for the party near the muck room doorway, “And what am I supposed to do while you lot are gone for the day?” The Fae asked, not wanting to go to the estate but upset at being left behind. “Well, for starters, I don’t want to see an ounce of glitter in this house when I come back. And you are not permitted to do anything I wouldn’t allow you to do otherwise,” Slade muttered, shooting him a warning look as he walked to the tree, which by now was littered with presents at its base, and began to move presents around looking for something. Jareth rolled his eyes, “Whatever.” Trikk suddenly walked in, frowning at him, all bundled up in her winter gear, “You could take the lights off of your mobile home. You haven’t done that yet. And it does need to get done eventually. And since Slade took his down by himself, it’s only fair for you to have to do the same.” Jareth sighed and nodded, “Yes, I suppose that is true. . .” Trikk smiled, “Good, then you and Lilac and Slashera can hang out here when you’re done.”
She frowned and turned to Slade, putting a hand on her hip, “And what are you looking for?” “William and Mary’s presents,” Slade remarked, “And Will Junior’s presents, of course, from us.” Trikk blushed scarlet. How could she have forgotten to get them a single gift?! Normally she could remember these things easily. . . “I didn’t get them anything,” she muttered, thinking out loud. Slade frowned and turned his head, glancing at her, already holding a rather large box under his arm, “I did say from us, now didn’t I?” She frowned, blinking as she took in the new information, “Thank you . . . you saved me from a ton of embarrassment,” she mumbled. He smirked at her, “But I thought I wasn’t heroic? Hmmm, maybe they should only be from me . . . or let’s just say . . . you owe me one.” She smiled, “Alright.” “Therefore, you get to carry half,” he held the rather large box from under his arm out to her. She frowned and took the box slowly. What was it? A coat? A bag?
She grunted as the heavy box sank into her arms, and the author staggered a little. She frowned at the name card that was taped on top of the blue wrapping paper covered box. William Wintergreen Senior. “What is this, a box of rocks?” she muttered. Slade chuckled, “Of course not. That would be ridiculous.” He turned and put another box on top of that, the new box being smaller and red. She grunted as that one landed on top of the heavy one. She glanced at the name tag. Mary Wintergreen. She frowned and turned to him, moments before he turned with another box, this one being a long box and green, and lifting up Mary’s gift, the man sat the green one on top of William’s and moved Mary’s box back down to sit on top of the green box. Before he lowered the woman’s box down, she saw that the green was to be given to William Wintergreen Junior, William Wintergreen Senior’s son. Slade smirked, and turning, pulled out three large gift bags from under the tree, which, by the strain shown on their rope handles in Slade’s hands, were pretty heavy. Turning to her, he grinned, “Ready?” She just rolled her eyes, and turning, hobbled a little towards the muck room.
He chuckled, “If you needed help. . .” He walked up to her and easily lifted all three boxes up and held them under his arm before walking onward, “You could have asked,” he joked. She frowned at him, shooting him a look that if looks could kill would have made him a goner, “Show off,” she muttered. He smirked at her, “I’d hate to ruin my reputation. . .” She turned to Jareth who had sat on the couch, and frowned, “I blame you for getting him thinking about his reputation. He’ll be annoying me the whole night!” “Awww, come on, Trikk. I’m just playing around,” Slade chuckled, “Besides, I would have annoyed you the whole night anyway. . .” “Not if you want me to stay with you at that party,” she muttered darkly. “I’ll be an absolute angel, my darling,” he gushed in an overly sweet, clearly sarcastic, voice as he sported an equally sarcastic grin. “On second thought, keep the annoying attitude. That sweet voice scares me coming from you. Especially when coupled with that psychotic smile,” she muttered. He smirked, “Your wish is my command, my dear author.” He bowed to her. She laughed, throwing her head back, eyes shut tight. Then turned to him, grinning, “If only you remembered that all the time, huh?” He smirked and winked at her, “You know you like me just the way I am.” She only gave him a sly smile, “Maybe. . .” With that the author walked right past the villain, through the muck room, and into the snow outside of the cabin.
nbsp; Soon, her, Lilac, Slashera, and Slade all stood outside the cabin in the snow with the bags of stuff for them to use to get Trikk and Slade ready for the party held by Trikk and the gifts held by Slade. “Alright, I’ll grab onto Trikk and Slade, you grab onto me, Little Slash,” Lilac whispered. Slashera grinned, nodded, and waved goodbye to Jareth, who smiled, standing just outside the door to the cabin, the King having decided them off. The Fae nodded right back at the child and returned the wave. Trikk smiled, “See you later, Jareth.” Slade smirked, “Don’t destroy my cabin when I’m gone. Or cover it in glitter.” Jareth smirked, “Hmmm, maybe I’m only able to follow one rule out of those two today . . . which would you prefer?” “Definitely the glitter one,” Slade chuckled. Jareth smirked, “DESTROY THE CABIN IT IS!” After a cross look from Trikk, the Fae chuckled good naturedly, “Just kidding, Trikk.” “You better be,” Trikk said, raising an eyebrow. Lilac only grinned at Jareth, “Get something to eat in town, if you need to. I’ll be back with Slashera early tonight.” With that, the group was gone with a crack. Jareth chuckled and shook his head before heading to his mobile home. He had some lights to take down, after all.
nbsp; “Ooooh, so pretty!” Slashera gushed, grinning up at the large brick manor as the group appeared just inside the wrought iron gates set into the large brick wall surrounding the estate. The trees in the massive, at least ten acre, front lawn, were covered in a firm blanket of snow, and the group could see freshly made snowmen of varying sizes spread throughout the lawn amongst the trees. Before them stretched a long driveway that had salt on it and that had been recently shoveled to reveal the cobblestones that made up its path as it led one up to the front doors of the mansion. Right in front of the massive white painted doors with wreaths on them that were at the top of a set of massive marble stairs leading into the manor, was a large fountain that was frozen due to the cold weather of the holidays. The cobblestone drive looped around the fountain, forming a circular path in front of the manor doors.
he bushes around the massive home were lit up with bush lights and covered in a blanket of snow as well, and the house itself had a lit up wreath in every window and icicle lights along its roof. There was also smoke coming out of each of its five visible chimneys. “It is very nice,” Trikk confirmed. Slade smirked, “Let’s go then.” With that, he led the way down the cobblestone path, shortly followed by Trikk, who carried Slashera on her hip since Lilac had the bags that the author had previously floating behind the group as the witch brought up the rear herself.
nbsp; As the group walked up to the manor of the estate, Slade smiled and waved at various workers the group saw walking around the lawn. Apparently, they were at work making sure everything was perfect for the big party that night. Each worker would turn, smile at the bearded man, and wave back, calling out a “Welcome back, Master Wilson!” each time they caught sight of the man. They would then proceed to tip their hats to Trikk, Slashera, and Lilac politely. Slashera grinned and turned to Slade, “How do they know you so well, Father Slade?” “William’s an old friend of your Father’s, little one,” Trikk murmured, smiling at the child, who turned and stared at her with wide eyes. “Really, Mama Trikk?” the girl said eagerly, smiling, wanting more information. Trikk smiled, “Yes, your Father lived here with William for a while before he got the cabin and warehouse finished.” Slashera grinned, “And now I get to meet him?!” Slade smiled, and tilted his head back, gazing at the child, “That’s right.” He couldn’t deny that he was happy to introduce the child to his longtime friend.
Finally, the group had reached the stairs which they then climbed up to reach the manor doors. Slade knocked on the right door using the ornate lion head doorknocker on the door’s surface, and a moment later, the doors were opened, revealing a wrinkled yet kind looking butler in a classic black suit with black glasses and kind green eyes, “Ahhh, Master Wilson. Master Wintergreen has been expecting you.” Slade smiled and nodded, shaking the butler’s hand, “Hello, Bernard.” Walking in, he turned and motioned to Trikk as she walked in, moving Slashera to one hip so that she could shake the butler’s outstretched hand, “This is my author, Trikk. And my daughter, Slashera.” Bernard smiled at Trikk, and cupped her hand, leaning forward, “A true pleasure, Miss Trikk. And Miss Slashera,” he turned to the child, and cupped her hand as well, and the girl giggled. Trikk smiled, “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to be here.” She walked on in, and then turned as Slade announced Lilac. “And this is Miss Lilac Potter. She’s from Britain, actually. And will be helping Trikk prepare for the party tonight. She and Slashera both will be helping her with that, actually. . . She’s a witch.” He added the last to explain the floating bags. “Ahhh, Miss Potter! A pleasure indeed!” Lilac smiled, nodded, and shook the man’s hand.
nbsp; Trikk gazed around the foyer. It was a massive white marble room, with deep burgundy painted walls with family portraits which were at least 20 feet in length and width in golden painted frames and with tapestries of family history mounted upon them. Also along the walls were various vases on iconic marble pillars that she suspected were made of real marble, along with various other busts on small half tables, all freshly polished and decorated for Christmas with garland and lights. There were mirrors over some of the tables, and there were even suits of armor standing against the walls of the room. Various large, well-polished oak doors with golden handles led off from the main hall. A huge black and white marble staircase with freshly cleaned marble railings decorated with garland and poinsettias led up to the second level of the house. Slade leaned forward and whispered in her ear with a chuckle, “You think what you’re looking at is amazing, look up, my dear.”
Trikk blinked, tilted her head back, and stared. Murals were painted on the arched and curved ceiling, with beautifully engraved architectural stone rafters swooping in and out to separate each mural from its neighbors. Some of the murals were of war, some of them were of angels, and all of them were beautiful. In the center of the ceiling hung a chandelier that was so ornate and so gorgeous that it reminded her of the one from The Phantom of the Opera. The one in the Wintergreen main hall was only a little smaller. “Impressive, isn’t it?” Slade murmured, standing beside her, hands still full of their presents for the Wintergreens. She frowned and turned to him before grinning, “Slade, honestly, I don’t know why you would ever leave. You must be crazy.” He chuckled, “It’s a little thing called independence. I needed it. You see, this is a good mansion, but not mine. It was always William’s. I needed my own place. It’s as simple as that.” “However, as we do understand your reasoning, we do miss you, Master Wilson,” Bernard remarked, walking up to Slade after closing and locking the front door. Slade turned and smiled weakly at the butler, “And I miss you all, Bernard. Which is one reason I’m happy that I am able to come now to pay you all a visit.” Bernard beamed at the man before quickly composing himself. “Now, please, follow me. Master Wintergreen is this way,” the butler said before he began to climb the stairs of the main staircase. Trikk verbally groaned.
Even though Lilac’s spell on her knee kept it from hurting when it normally would quite a bit, just the sight of the tall, at least 100 stair staircase made the author wince. Besides, she had just carried Slashera up a long driveway. . . Suddenly, Slade was moving Slashera from the arms, and had scooped Trikk up bridal style before the woman could object, “Little Slash, I’ve got to carry your mother up the stairs. Would you mind going up them on your own?” Slashera grinned, nodded, and began to climb the staircase. “I’ll get the gifts, too,” Lilac murmured, and the gifts Slade had set on the floor flew through the air to hover behind the witch. Trikk, despite wrapping her arms around the mercenary’s neck, frowned as he began to carry her up the stairs, “I could have climbed them. . .” He shook his head firmly, and gazed down at her, “I heard that groan. I saw that wince. You were dreading the climb. Just admit it, suck it up, and let me be nice for once.” She smirked, “I thought you had your reputation. . .” He smirked right back, “Don’t worry, I’ll do something despicable later.” She chuckled. She had to admit, she was a bit happy that he had decided to carry her. But still, it did tug a bit at her feministic independent side. . . “A good gentleman,” Bernard nodded firmly, “Carrying the tired young lady up the stairs.” Trikk blushed scarlet, as Slade chuckled a deeply in his throat. “Yep, your one time of being a gentleman,” she muttered under her breath so that the kind butler couldn’t hear her. Slade only smirked down at her more, “Hush now, tired young lady. And let me help you with going up these stairs.” She snarled at him, glaring at him with a look that promised payback. He only chuckled in response, throwing more fuel onto the fire that was her irritation.
nbsp; As it turned out, Slade apparently didn’t feel like he could put Trikk down until they had entered the small living space that Bernard led them to on the second floor. Trikk frowned around at the cream colored walls of the room and at the burgundy drapes that hung along the sides of two long windows on one side of the room on either side of a large marble fireplace with three stockings hanging off of its mantle with a roaring fire inside of its hearth. A large Christmas tree was set off to the side in one corner and was beautifully decorated, with large presents already under it. Red velvet burgundy couches were in the room, along with red velvet burgundy armchairs closer to the fire. A polished dark oak coffee table with intricate carvings on its clawed feet sat in the center of the room on a clearly old and priceless rug that had intricate burgundy and gold designs embroidered in its material. A baby grand piano stained a dark brown to match the coffee table sat in the corner, with a burgundy quilt with golden hem and tassels and a golden W embroidered on the edge facing them laid over it, with a golden nativity scene on top of the quilt. A bowl of candy wrapped up in pretty foil also sat on the table. It was an antique crystal bowl by the looks of it, one most families would probably have on for display only, and one that most families wouldn’t dare put candy in. There were two leather bound volumes of some book series on the table as well. It truly looked like a picture out of a magazine, complete with oak bookcases matching the coffee table along the walls which were filled with books and a family portrait over the fireplace, with a mini chandelier of wrought iron vines and golden leaves hanging from the ceiling with garland and poinsettias wrapped around it. The mantle of the fireplace had garland and poinsettia decorations as well.
On one of the couches sat one of the most beautiful older women that Trikk had ever seen. Mrs. . . . err . . . Mistress Mary Wintergreen wore a long red dress of crushed velvet with intricate golden embroidery sewn into the fabric. It was a gorgeous dress, with a beautiful black velvet collar lined with gold with her initials sewn in gold upon the right side of it. The woman wore beautiful gold dangling earrings with ruby jewels set into them, a beautiful golden pendant necklace with a huge ruby set into it as well, a golden ring with rubies in it on her right ring finger, and a golden band along her left ring finger. The woman had beautiful green eyes and her silver hair was pulled back in a beautifully braided bun. There was not a hair out of place in the hairstyle, and Trikk could tell that there was a golden brooch, no doubt with rubies set in it to match the woman’s jewelry, holding her bun up. The woman had some red velvet slippers sitting beside the couch, and her pale feet were up on the red velvet surface of the piece of furniture. She had been writing in a leather-bound journal with a ballpoint pen before the group entered the room.
he woman smiled up at them all with gleaming white teeth. “Hello, everyone. Hello, Slade. It’s been a while.” Slade smiled at the woman, “Hello Mary,” he murmured warmly, then turning to the free couch, set Trikk down to lay upon the surface of the piece of furniture. The author immediately began to blush and tried to move her shoes off of the couch, feeling extremely out of place in her shirt and blue jeans as she was surrounded by the elegance of the room. “Don’t worry dear,” Mary said with a warm smile, “Keep your shoes up there, sweetheart. You must be Trikk. Slade’s written us many a time about you. And you must be his date for our party I assume?” Trikk blushed as Slade sat down at her feet on the couch, the mercenary chuckling and lifting her shoes up to be in his lap. She smiled weakly, “Y-yes ma’am.” “Still, no matter who you are, shoes aren’t entirely allowed on furniture, normally,” Slade chuckled, teasing her as he pulled off her Nikes and socks. She frowned at him, wondering what he was going to do. . .
He chuckled, smirking at the look on her face, and ran his fingers up her the bottoms of her feet. She threw her head back, eyes shut tight, gasping in laughter, “Sl-Slade, stop! Stop!” He smirked at her, “Told you I’d annoy you. . .” he slurred and continued to tickle the girl. Lilac chuckled, rolled her eyes, and introduced herself to Mary, who beamed at the witch and nodded in welcome. Then it was Slashera’s turn to be introduced to Mary by the witch. The woman wrapped the girl in a warm hug and instructed the child to sit beside her, as Lilac moved the presents they’d brought to sit them under the tree before moving to sit down in one of the armchairs herself. Then the group just settled down and watched, amused, as Slade leaned over on the couch and began to tickle Trikk’s sides, causing the author to squeal even louder with laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks from shut eyelids, “SL-L-SLADE! STOOOP!” she cried out, begging in her laughter. He chuckled, grinning, his eye full of mirth and joy, “Say please. . .” “Please, Slade, let the poor girl rest. My lord, this is a living room, not a torture chamber,” a voice chuckled from behind him. And Slade froze, staring straight ahead of himself, an even broader smile crossing his face at the sound of the voice. Bernard had left . . . no doubt to get refreshments . . . the voice therefore belonged to. . . Slade shot up, and turned around, smiling, excitement filling him as he grinned across at his white haired friend with the mustache.
illiam only smiled right back with brilliant green eyes, aging quite well himself with only a few lines on his face, wearing a burgundy crushed velvet bathrobe matching his wife’s dress, black dress slacks under that, and velvet slippers. His hair was perfectly trimmed, and his eyes gleamed as he gazed at his longtime friend, “My good friend, it’s good to see you again.” Slade nodded, “Quite.” He was literally quaking with excitement. Then, as if a silent alarm had gone off, Slade rushed over, and the two embraced one another, with the Russian literally picking the shorter man up off of the ground. William Wintergreen Senior chuckled, wrapping his arms around the broader man’s back as Slade literally turned him around where the mercenary stood. Trikk couldn’t help but grin at the broad smile on Slade’s face. It was that smile that let them know that the man was truly, 100%, happy at that moment. For William wasn’t just a friend. To Slade, he was the man who had saved his life from the sad, lonely darkness that he and Ben and Ian had been subjected to by the country they’d trusted since they were infants.
Slade had been so depressed that he’d wanted to die in that prisoner of war camp where William had found him. The Russian had just been lying in some mud when he could have been in a shack or tent surrounding the prison yard of the camp. Instead, he’d decided to just lie out there in the mud, gazing up at the sky with his sad crystal blue eye as the rain fell down upon his body, soaking his clothes and skin with its freezing cold water. Then, out of all of the British soldiers standing there watching the morose Russian, William had been the only one, the solitary soul, to go out and see about Slade. Leaning down, the man frowned, gazing at him, “What do you want soldier? Pneumonia? That’s what you’ll get if you stay out here,” the man muttered in a gruff voice full of authority. Slade blinked up at him silently, not answering. William had frowned harder at him, “Do you understand what I’m saying, soldier? If so, say so.” Slade had opened his mouth and whispered in a raspy voice in perfect English, “I understand, sir.” He closed his eye, and a tear raced down as he choked out, “I’ve understood English for years now. . .” he rolled his head over and gazed with his tears streaming down at Ben and Ian standing under a shack, gazing at him with pity in their eyes. He choked out a sob.
illiam had been unsettled by the pain in Slade’s voice, but had reached out, gripped the man’s jaw firmly, and had wrenched the man’s head around, refusing to cave in pity for the man. “Tell me, what is your name, soldier?” he snarled, frowning at the Russian, believing him to have lost his mind. Slade blinked and whispered the by now automatic response, “I am soldier number 784, sir. Of the Russian Red Army.” William had frowned hard at him, “I don’t care what number you are, soldier. What. Is. Your. Name?!” Slade blinked, gazing at the man in disbelief. It’d been so long since an authority had wanted to know that . . . at first he didn’t know how to respond. William snarled, glaring at him, frustration storming in his green eyes, “Answer me! I know you understand me now! There is no excuse other than rebellion for you not to answer! WHAT IS YOUR BIRTH NAME?! Tell me!” Slade shivered, gazing up at him, and whispered faintly, “Slade Wilson. My name is Slade . . . Slade Wilson, sir.” He closed his eye, and felt a tear race down as he murmured his name again, “Slade . . . Slade Wilson. My name is Slade Wilson. . .” “Well Slade Wilson, you better get out from under this rain. You see, we don’t have the best doctors or medication out here,” William hissed, glaring at the man, “And if you get pneumonia, it won’t be treated. You will die, Mr. Wilson. Do you understand me?! If you don’t get out from under this rain, you will die!” Slade had gazed up at him with that pain and sorrow filled blue eye, and had let out the deepest sigh he’d probably had in his life, “If only it were that easy, sir, I would lay out here for forever in the hopes of reaching that goal.”
The comment had taken Wintergreen completely by surprise, and he had studied Slade’s sorrow filled eye and face closely . . . he took in the tears racing down the man’s wet cheek. For the first time, William had really looked at Slade, and had seen the tortured, tormented soul of the man lying in the mud. And while he couldn’t fathom what had made the man that way, he did observe one thing about the man which he then chose to point out, “You look like you’ve lived a thousand lives and died a thousand times already, soldier. Let’s get you something to eat. That’s an order.” He’d held out a hand. Slade had stared up at the man, blinking at the soldier, a soldier from the opposing army. This man was supposed to be his enemy. That’s what he’d been told. And yet here the man had in his own way shown Slade more kindness than he’d ever received from someone outside of Ben and Ian in a very long time. It was because of this that Slade chose to accept his offered hand. He’d reached up, grasped Will’s hand, and had let the British man help him up from the mud. He had called Ben and Ian over to the two of them after asking for the British man’s permission and receiving it, and the group of men had headed to a shelter where there was some warm porridge being cooked inside of it and some bread. Not stale bread, no, but good whole wheat bread. With real butter. It was the food reserved for the soldiers. It was never meant for prisoners. And yet, William allowed them to eat their fill with him that night. That night, he’d learned what the men had been through, a deep bond had been formed amongst the four men, with Will vowing to get them out of the horrible situation they’d found themselves in for so long. However, an even deeper bond had been forged between him and Slade as he’d gazed down into that dull crystal blue eye for the first real time. Such a bond would never be broken. And such a bond was being displayed before Mary, Slashera, Trikk, and Lilac right there in the living room area of the manor.
nbsp; After two spins, Slade set William down, and the two beamed at one another. Will smiled, “You look well, my dear friend. I am happy you could come.” Slade smiled and turning, motioned to the others, “And I brought some people with me this time.” Will smiled at everyone, and Trikk smiled at the British man. The man had a warm and caring smile that was immediately contagious. Slade led Will over to Slashera first, “Here is Slashera. I’ve told you about her. . .” Will leaned down to be eye level with the child, “Well, hello, madam!” The girl giggled as he lifted the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Hi!” she said excitedly. He smiled at her, “I have something for you. . .” turning to a pocket of his bathrobe, he moved his hand inside and pulled out a chocolate truffle wrapped in gold foil, “Here you are,” he murmured, and Slashera beamed. As the child eagerly unwrapped the paper, Trikk couldn’t help but chuckle at Slade who frowned a little, the man unwilling to object to his friend giving his apprentice chocolate, but not entirely happy with the fact that the man was doing such a thing.
s she chuckled, Will turned to her, and beamed at the young woman, happiness filling his emerald green eyes, “And you must be Miss Trikk. . .” Trikk smiled, nodded, and stood up to be eye level with the man, and held out her hand, which he shook warmly, “Yes sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Oh no, I assure you, Miss Trikk. . .” he leaned down, and kissed the back of her hand, “The pleasure is all mine.” She smiled. Even from where she stood at least a foot away from him, he smelled of peppermint. It was a comforting smell and she liked it. He leaned back and he smiled at her, “Keeping Slade in line?” Slade chuckled, “Hardly.” Trikk frowned at the mercenary then turned to Will and winked, “I’m trying. . .” Will laughed a little, his face stretching in a wider grin, “Is that not the best any of us can do?” Trikk grinned right back at the man, deciding right then and there that she quite liked William Wintergreen. Slade crossed his arms, and smiled a little, tilting his head to the side. Happy things were going so smoothly.
ill suddenly turned to Lilac, “And may I ask your name, darling?” he walked over, and Lilac grinned and stood, “Lilac Potter, Mr. Wintergreen. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He smiled and kissed her hand as well before turning to the others, “Well, the party is not for another 6 hours. . . how about we have Bernard bring us up some nice treats, have some tea, and then . . . presents?” he grinned at Slashera, who beamed at the mention of presents. Then Will chuckled and sat in his armchair. Trikk grunted and moved to sit up, but Slade was yet again sitting at the end of her couch, and he prevented her from doing so. He smirked at her, moving her feet up to rest in his lap and held onto them to prevent her from moving, “No, you need to rest your dear old knee. . .” he chuckled. Trikk frowned at him, narrowing her eyes at him, “Or are you just trying to tickle me again?” Slade only smirked wider at his author and began to tickle her feet.
he gasped, and shot up on the couch, her eyes shut tight, “NO! SLADE, PLEASE!” the girl shrieked at the tops of her lungs. “Oh please, Slade, don’t tickle the poor girl again,” Mary said to the man with a small smile. He grinned at the woman, and moving his hands, began to massage Trikk’s foot instead, “I won’t, Mary. I assure you. I just want Trikk to be comfortable, truly . . . but I can’t help teasing her just a little. . .” he chuckled, grinning at Trikk, who groaned, laying her head back on the arm of the couch, resting a hand on her forehead. “I swear you’ll give me gray hairs before I’m thirty,” the author mumbled, sighing. Slade smirked, “Oh no. I’ll give them to you before you’re twenty, my dear.” “You make me do that, and I’ll find some way to kill you off,” she promised. Slade smirked, “You can try. But for now, just sit back and enjoy your free massage.” “You’re lucky it feels so damn good. Otherwise I’d be kicking your face in,” she snarled at him threateningly, narrowing her eyes at him. He smirked, “Good thing I’m an excellent masseuse, then.”
A/N: Okay, so this is the first of the in-law chapter set, which as of right now will probably have three chapters. For those of you who are reading the "Slashera" stoy and have not learned of Slade's past in regards to that story via "Behind the Mask" or messaging/speaking with me, there is a spoiler in this chapter. You have been warned. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and please comment!
“IT’S JUST NOT FAIR!!!!!” Jareth shouted, glaring at the empty plate before him and slamming his fists into the table. Trikk frowned, wearing an orange camisole under a black V-neck top and some American eagle Blue jeans, her hair in a braid down her back with an orange ribbon at the end. The author had been lounging a little in her chair at the table, but now she stared at the Fae, “Holy cow the fourth wall just fell.” Jareth frowned and turned to her, blinking, “The what?” “The fourth wall, dumbass,” Slade muttered, walking to the table with a big bowl of grits and sitting them near the Fae’s end of the table, “It’s an expression Trikk uses when something defies what once was one of the laws of reality in a universe.” He turned and marched back to the stove, wearing a black silk button down shirt and blue jeans. He wanted to look somewhat nice to go meet William, after all. “What made it fall?” Jareth said, blinking. Trikk stared at him, “You said something was not fair.” Jareth blinked at her, clueless at to what her point was. Slade chuckled a bit at how slow the Fae was to comprehend what Trikk meant. Trikk rolled her eyes, “You know, the thing that you got onto Sarah about so much for saying in your Labyrinth? Well, now you’ve said it. . .” Jareth frowned and turned to his plate, gazing at it for a moment. Then frowned and crossed his arms, growling out, “Well it’s not. . .”
nbsp; “Look, Trikk has gone over it with you,” Slade muttered, turning and walking back to the table with a bowl of scrambled eggs, frowning at the Fae, “She’ll go on a date with you to make up for her coming with me to Will’s party. Besides, it’s not really a date for us. It’s just so that I won’t have to face those people alone if she comes with me there, and she’s graciously consented to such a task.” Turning, he marched back to the stove and pulled some biscuits out of the oven.
“I’m not talking about that!” Jareth snapped, glaring at the man, then turned to Trikk, “I’m talking about the one time in his life that Slade was a hero!” he turned, staring at Slade, “How did it feel? Did it feel weird?” “No, because. . .” Slade began, but was cut off as he buttered the biscuits. “I mean, you’re a big tough villain, aren’t you? And for you to do something as heroic as save a damsel in distress! Wow! Talk about going against your character! If your other villains in your universe knew about that, what would they say? That you were going soft? Oh man, how does that feel?” “IT DOESN’T FEEL ANY WHICH WAY BECAUSE IT WASN’T A HEROIC THING THAT I DID!” Slade roared, whipping around, seething as he glowered at the Fae.
nbsp; Trikk frowned and turned to the red faced mercenary as he walked over with the platter of biscuits. “The simple fact is that I was protecting something that was mine: my author. . .” Slade snarled through his teeth. “Actually, I think you’ve got it backwards. . .” Trikk remarked, frowning at him, “You’re mine, in that you’re my character. . .” “Doesn’t matter,” Slade muttered, and turning, headed back to the stove to take some bacon that had been frying there out of its pan and onto a plate, “Regardless, I considered her a part of my family. The same as I consider Lilac, Slashera, and regrettably you a part of my family, Goblin King. And I simply chose to protect my family member. That’s all. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have interfered. . .” Trikk coughed, and glared back at Slade. “Well . . . not without Trikk threatening me in order to get me to do so . . .” the man quickly amended. She smirked a bit, content again. But Jareth wasn’t through with teasing Slade.
ldquo;Well, there’s a difference between interfering and almost killing the guy, isn’t there?” Jareth grinned at the man, “Admit it, you went the extra mile. I SMELL HEROISM!” “I think Batman would beg to differ,” Slade scoffed, and turning, marched to the table and sat the bacon down as well before turning around to go get some sausage he also had cooking, “According to him, if you want to kill someone and if you almost go through with it until you are stopped by an outside force, apparently you’re a villain. Not a hero . . . although how he expects to solve problems like Poison Ivy or the Joker permanently without killing them is beyond me. . .” he muttered the last part.
Jareth sighed, “Okay, fine, so it wasn’t heroic. I would have still liked to have been there. Maybe I could have tossed him into the Bog of Eternal Stench?” Jareth said hopefully. Slade smirked and turned his head, grinning at the Fae, “Now, I would have loved to help with that.” Jareth smirked, and Lilac sighed, on the other side of the sink from Slade, cutting up some fruit she’d peeled, “Then I guess it’s a good thing you weren’t there, Jareth. Trikk had enough of an issue getting Slade not to kill the man. I don’t know how she would have dealt with both of you.” “That’s the point: she wouldn’t have been able to. And that man would have gotten what he deserved,” Jareth smirked at the witch who had on a purple turtleneck and blue jeans with her hair back in a ponytail. “For once, I like the way you think, Goblin King,” Slade chuckled. “Great, it’s the one time the two of you agree, and it’s about something like this,” Trikk muttered, rolling her eyes. Jareth chuckled, as did Slade, “Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.” “Well, at least that phrase is more canon to your character,” Trikk said with a weak smile, just as Slashera ran in, grinning, “GOOD MORNING EVERYBODY!” she was wearing her jumpsuit, and she grinned, running over to Lilac, “CAN I HELP?!” Lilac smiled down at the child and nodded, “Of course. Can you carry this bowl of fruit to the table?”
Slashera beamed and taking the bowl took it to the table and sat it down near Trikk. Turning to the author, she grinned, “Did you sleep good, Mama Trikk?” Trikk turned to her and grinned, “Why yes, I did, little one. Did you?” she hugged the child tightly, and Slashera giggled, “Yes ma’am!” At that moment, Slade walked back to the table and sat down the sausage links before turning to the child, “Little one, would you mind helping me and Lilac with drinks?” She beamed up at him, nodded, and in no time, the three were setting drinks out at the table, along with honey, cheese, and strawberry, grape, and raspberry jelly.
nbsp; Once all five had eaten until their stomachs were full, Trikk and Slade and Lilac and Slashera all set about getting ready to leave. Jareth frowned in the living room as the group began to set up bags of things they would need to prepare for the party near the muck room doorway, “And what am I supposed to do while you lot are gone for the day?” The Fae asked, not wanting to go to the estate but upset at being left behind. “Well, for starters, I don’t want to see an ounce of glitter in this house when I come back. And you are not permitted to do anything I wouldn’t allow you to do otherwise,” Slade muttered, shooting him a warning look as he walked to the tree, which by now was littered with presents at its base, and began to move presents around looking for something. Jareth rolled his eyes, “Whatever.” Trikk suddenly walked in, frowning at him, all bundled up in her winter gear, “You could take the lights off of your mobile home. You haven’t done that yet. And it does need to get done eventually. And since Slade took his down by himself, it’s only fair for you to have to do the same.” Jareth sighed and nodded, “Yes, I suppose that is true. . .” Trikk smiled, “Good, then you and Lilac and Slashera can hang out here when you’re done.”
She frowned and turned to Slade, putting a hand on her hip, “And what are you looking for?” “William and Mary’s presents,” Slade remarked, “And Will Junior’s presents, of course, from us.” Trikk blushed scarlet. How could she have forgotten to get them a single gift?! Normally she could remember these things easily. . . “I didn’t get them anything,” she muttered, thinking out loud. Slade frowned and turned his head, glancing at her, already holding a rather large box under his arm, “I did say from us, now didn’t I?” She frowned, blinking as she took in the new information, “Thank you . . . you saved me from a ton of embarrassment,” she mumbled. He smirked at her, “But I thought I wasn’t heroic? Hmmm, maybe they should only be from me . . . or let’s just say . . . you owe me one.” She smiled, “Alright.” “Therefore, you get to carry half,” he held the rather large box from under his arm out to her. She frowned and took the box slowly. What was it? A coat? A bag?
She grunted as the heavy box sank into her arms, and the author staggered a little. She frowned at the name card that was taped on top of the blue wrapping paper covered box. William Wintergreen Senior. “What is this, a box of rocks?” she muttered. Slade chuckled, “Of course not. That would be ridiculous.” He turned and put another box on top of that, the new box being smaller and red. She grunted as that one landed on top of the heavy one. She glanced at the name tag. Mary Wintergreen. She frowned and turned to him, moments before he turned with another box, this one being a long box and green, and lifting up Mary’s gift, the man sat the green one on top of William’s and moved Mary’s box back down to sit on top of the green box. Before he lowered the woman’s box down, she saw that the green was to be given to William Wintergreen Junior, William Wintergreen Senior’s son. Slade smirked, and turning, pulled out three large gift bags from under the tree, which, by the strain shown on their rope handles in Slade’s hands, were pretty heavy. Turning to her, he grinned, “Ready?” She just rolled her eyes, and turning, hobbled a little towards the muck room.
He chuckled, “If you needed help. . .” He walked up to her and easily lifted all three boxes up and held them under his arm before walking onward, “You could have asked,” he joked. She frowned at him, shooting him a look that if looks could kill would have made him a goner, “Show off,” she muttered. He smirked at her, “I’d hate to ruin my reputation. . .” She turned to Jareth who had sat on the couch, and frowned, “I blame you for getting him thinking about his reputation. He’ll be annoying me the whole night!” “Awww, come on, Trikk. I’m just playing around,” Slade chuckled, “Besides, I would have annoyed you the whole night anyway. . .” “Not if you want me to stay with you at that party,” she muttered darkly. “I’ll be an absolute angel, my darling,” he gushed in an overly sweet, clearly sarcastic, voice as he sported an equally sarcastic grin. “On second thought, keep the annoying attitude. That sweet voice scares me coming from you. Especially when coupled with that psychotic smile,” she muttered. He smirked, “Your wish is my command, my dear author.” He bowed to her. She laughed, throwing her head back, eyes shut tight. Then turned to him, grinning, “If only you remembered that all the time, huh?” He smirked and winked at her, “You know you like me just the way I am.” She only gave him a sly smile, “Maybe. . .” With that the author walked right past the villain, through the muck room, and into the snow outside of the cabin.
nbsp; Soon, her, Lilac, Slashera, and Slade all stood outside the cabin in the snow with the bags of stuff for them to use to get Trikk and Slade ready for the party held by Trikk and the gifts held by Slade. “Alright, I’ll grab onto Trikk and Slade, you grab onto me, Little Slash,” Lilac whispered. Slashera grinned, nodded, and waved goodbye to Jareth, who smiled, standing just outside the door to the cabin, the King having decided them off. The Fae nodded right back at the child and returned the wave. Trikk smiled, “See you later, Jareth.” Slade smirked, “Don’t destroy my cabin when I’m gone. Or cover it in glitter.” Jareth smirked, “Hmmm, maybe I’m only able to follow one rule out of those two today . . . which would you prefer?” “Definitely the glitter one,” Slade chuckled. Jareth smirked, “DESTROY THE CABIN IT IS!” After a cross look from Trikk, the Fae chuckled good naturedly, “Just kidding, Trikk.” “You better be,” Trikk said, raising an eyebrow. Lilac only grinned at Jareth, “Get something to eat in town, if you need to. I’ll be back with Slashera early tonight.” With that, the group was gone with a crack. Jareth chuckled and shook his head before heading to his mobile home. He had some lights to take down, after all.
nbsp; “Ooooh, so pretty!” Slashera gushed, grinning up at the large brick manor as the group appeared just inside the wrought iron gates set into the large brick wall surrounding the estate. The trees in the massive, at least ten acre, front lawn, were covered in a firm blanket of snow, and the group could see freshly made snowmen of varying sizes spread throughout the lawn amongst the trees. Before them stretched a long driveway that had salt on it and that had been recently shoveled to reveal the cobblestones that made up its path as it led one up to the front doors of the mansion. Right in front of the massive white painted doors with wreaths on them that were at the top of a set of massive marble stairs leading into the manor, was a large fountain that was frozen due to the cold weather of the holidays. The cobblestone drive looped around the fountain, forming a circular path in front of the manor doors.
he bushes around the massive home were lit up with bush lights and covered in a blanket of snow as well, and the house itself had a lit up wreath in every window and icicle lights along its roof. There was also smoke coming out of each of its five visible chimneys. “It is very nice,” Trikk confirmed. Slade smirked, “Let’s go then.” With that, he led the way down the cobblestone path, shortly followed by Trikk, who carried Slashera on her hip since Lilac had the bags that the author had previously floating behind the group as the witch brought up the rear herself.
nbsp; As the group walked up to the manor of the estate, Slade smiled and waved at various workers the group saw walking around the lawn. Apparently, they were at work making sure everything was perfect for the big party that night. Each worker would turn, smile at the bearded man, and wave back, calling out a “Welcome back, Master Wilson!” each time they caught sight of the man. They would then proceed to tip their hats to Trikk, Slashera, and Lilac politely. Slashera grinned and turned to Slade, “How do they know you so well, Father Slade?” “William’s an old friend of your Father’s, little one,” Trikk murmured, smiling at the child, who turned and stared at her with wide eyes. “Really, Mama Trikk?” the girl said eagerly, smiling, wanting more information. Trikk smiled, “Yes, your Father lived here with William for a while before he got the cabin and warehouse finished.” Slashera grinned, “And now I get to meet him?!” Slade smiled, and tilted his head back, gazing at the child, “That’s right.” He couldn’t deny that he was happy to introduce the child to his longtime friend.
Finally, the group had reached the stairs which they then climbed up to reach the manor doors. Slade knocked on the right door using the ornate lion head doorknocker on the door’s surface, and a moment later, the doors were opened, revealing a wrinkled yet kind looking butler in a classic black suit with black glasses and kind green eyes, “Ahhh, Master Wilson. Master Wintergreen has been expecting you.” Slade smiled and nodded, shaking the butler’s hand, “Hello, Bernard.” Walking in, he turned and motioned to Trikk as she walked in, moving Slashera to one hip so that she could shake the butler’s outstretched hand, “This is my author, Trikk. And my daughter, Slashera.” Bernard smiled at Trikk, and cupped her hand, leaning forward, “A true pleasure, Miss Trikk. And Miss Slashera,” he turned to the child, and cupped her hand as well, and the girl giggled. Trikk smiled, “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to be here.” She walked on in, and then turned as Slade announced Lilac. “And this is Miss Lilac Potter. She’s from Britain, actually. And will be helping Trikk prepare for the party tonight. She and Slashera both will be helping her with that, actually. . . She’s a witch.” He added the last to explain the floating bags. “Ahhh, Miss Potter! A pleasure indeed!” Lilac smiled, nodded, and shook the man’s hand.
nbsp; Trikk gazed around the foyer. It was a massive white marble room, with deep burgundy painted walls with family portraits which were at least 20 feet in length and width in golden painted frames and with tapestries of family history mounted upon them. Also along the walls were various vases on iconic marble pillars that she suspected were made of real marble, along with various other busts on small half tables, all freshly polished and decorated for Christmas with garland and lights. There were mirrors over some of the tables, and there were even suits of armor standing against the walls of the room. Various large, well-polished oak doors with golden handles led off from the main hall. A huge black and white marble staircase with freshly cleaned marble railings decorated with garland and poinsettias led up to the second level of the house. Slade leaned forward and whispered in her ear with a chuckle, “You think what you’re looking at is amazing, look up, my dear.”
Trikk blinked, tilted her head back, and stared. Murals were painted on the arched and curved ceiling, with beautifully engraved architectural stone rafters swooping in and out to separate each mural from its neighbors. Some of the murals were of war, some of them were of angels, and all of them were beautiful. In the center of the ceiling hung a chandelier that was so ornate and so gorgeous that it reminded her of the one from The Phantom of the Opera. The one in the Wintergreen main hall was only a little smaller. “Impressive, isn’t it?” Slade murmured, standing beside her, hands still full of their presents for the Wintergreens. She frowned and turned to him before grinning, “Slade, honestly, I don’t know why you would ever leave. You must be crazy.” He chuckled, “It’s a little thing called independence. I needed it. You see, this is a good mansion, but not mine. It was always William’s. I needed my own place. It’s as simple as that.” “However, as we do understand your reasoning, we do miss you, Master Wilson,” Bernard remarked, walking up to Slade after closing and locking the front door. Slade turned and smiled weakly at the butler, “And I miss you all, Bernard. Which is one reason I’m happy that I am able to come now to pay you all a visit.” Bernard beamed at the man before quickly composing himself. “Now, please, follow me. Master Wintergreen is this way,” the butler said before he began to climb the stairs of the main staircase. Trikk verbally groaned.
Even though Lilac’s spell on her knee kept it from hurting when it normally would quite a bit, just the sight of the tall, at least 100 stair staircase made the author wince. Besides, she had just carried Slashera up a long driveway. . . Suddenly, Slade was moving Slashera from the arms, and had scooped Trikk up bridal style before the woman could object, “Little Slash, I’ve got to carry your mother up the stairs. Would you mind going up them on your own?” Slashera grinned, nodded, and began to climb the staircase. “I’ll get the gifts, too,” Lilac murmured, and the gifts Slade had set on the floor flew through the air to hover behind the witch. Trikk, despite wrapping her arms around the mercenary’s neck, frowned as he began to carry her up the stairs, “I could have climbed them. . .” He shook his head firmly, and gazed down at her, “I heard that groan. I saw that wince. You were dreading the climb. Just admit it, suck it up, and let me be nice for once.” She smirked, “I thought you had your reputation. . .” He smirked right back, “Don’t worry, I’ll do something despicable later.” She chuckled. She had to admit, she was a bit happy that he had decided to carry her. But still, it did tug a bit at her feministic independent side. . . “A good gentleman,” Bernard nodded firmly, “Carrying the tired young lady up the stairs.” Trikk blushed scarlet, as Slade chuckled a deeply in his throat. “Yep, your one time of being a gentleman,” she muttered under her breath so that the kind butler couldn’t hear her. Slade only smirked down at her more, “Hush now, tired young lady. And let me help you with going up these stairs.” She snarled at him, glaring at him with a look that promised payback. He only chuckled in response, throwing more fuel onto the fire that was her irritation.
nbsp; As it turned out, Slade apparently didn’t feel like he could put Trikk down until they had entered the small living space that Bernard led them to on the second floor. Trikk frowned around at the cream colored walls of the room and at the burgundy drapes that hung along the sides of two long windows on one side of the room on either side of a large marble fireplace with three stockings hanging off of its mantle with a roaring fire inside of its hearth. A large Christmas tree was set off to the side in one corner and was beautifully decorated, with large presents already under it. Red velvet burgundy couches were in the room, along with red velvet burgundy armchairs closer to the fire. A polished dark oak coffee table with intricate carvings on its clawed feet sat in the center of the room on a clearly old and priceless rug that had intricate burgundy and gold designs embroidered in its material. A baby grand piano stained a dark brown to match the coffee table sat in the corner, with a burgundy quilt with golden hem and tassels and a golden W embroidered on the edge facing them laid over it, with a golden nativity scene on top of the quilt. A bowl of candy wrapped up in pretty foil also sat on the table. It was an antique crystal bowl by the looks of it, one most families would probably have on for display only, and one that most families wouldn’t dare put candy in. There were two leather bound volumes of some book series on the table as well. It truly looked like a picture out of a magazine, complete with oak bookcases matching the coffee table along the walls which were filled with books and a family portrait over the fireplace, with a mini chandelier of wrought iron vines and golden leaves hanging from the ceiling with garland and poinsettias wrapped around it. The mantle of the fireplace had garland and poinsettia decorations as well.
On one of the couches sat one of the most beautiful older women that Trikk had ever seen. Mrs. . . . err . . . Mistress Mary Wintergreen wore a long red dress of crushed velvet with intricate golden embroidery sewn into the fabric. It was a gorgeous dress, with a beautiful black velvet collar lined with gold with her initials sewn in gold upon the right side of it. The woman wore beautiful gold dangling earrings with ruby jewels set into them, a beautiful golden pendant necklace with a huge ruby set into it as well, a golden ring with rubies in it on her right ring finger, and a golden band along her left ring finger. The woman had beautiful green eyes and her silver hair was pulled back in a beautifully braided bun. There was not a hair out of place in the hairstyle, and Trikk could tell that there was a golden brooch, no doubt with rubies set in it to match the woman’s jewelry, holding her bun up. The woman had some red velvet slippers sitting beside the couch, and her pale feet were up on the red velvet surface of the piece of furniture. She had been writing in a leather-bound journal with a ballpoint pen before the group entered the room.
he woman smiled up at them all with gleaming white teeth. “Hello, everyone. Hello, Slade. It’s been a while.” Slade smiled at the woman, “Hello Mary,” he murmured warmly, then turning to the free couch, set Trikk down to lay upon the surface of the piece of furniture. The author immediately began to blush and tried to move her shoes off of the couch, feeling extremely out of place in her shirt and blue jeans as she was surrounded by the elegance of the room. “Don’t worry dear,” Mary said with a warm smile, “Keep your shoes up there, sweetheart. You must be Trikk. Slade’s written us many a time about you. And you must be his date for our party I assume?” Trikk blushed as Slade sat down at her feet on the couch, the mercenary chuckling and lifting her shoes up to be in his lap. She smiled weakly, “Y-yes ma’am.” “Still, no matter who you are, shoes aren’t entirely allowed on furniture, normally,” Slade chuckled, teasing her as he pulled off her Nikes and socks. She frowned at him, wondering what he was going to do. . .
He chuckled, smirking at the look on her face, and ran his fingers up her the bottoms of her feet. She threw her head back, eyes shut tight, gasping in laughter, “Sl-Slade, stop! Stop!” He smirked at her, “Told you I’d annoy you. . .” he slurred and continued to tickle the girl. Lilac chuckled, rolled her eyes, and introduced herself to Mary, who beamed at the witch and nodded in welcome. Then it was Slashera’s turn to be introduced to Mary by the witch. The woman wrapped the girl in a warm hug and instructed the child to sit beside her, as Lilac moved the presents they’d brought to sit them under the tree before moving to sit down in one of the armchairs herself. Then the group just settled down and watched, amused, as Slade leaned over on the couch and began to tickle Trikk’s sides, causing the author to squeal even louder with laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks from shut eyelids, “SL-L-SLADE! STOOOP!” she cried out, begging in her laughter. He chuckled, grinning, his eye full of mirth and joy, “Say please. . .” “Please, Slade, let the poor girl rest. My lord, this is a living room, not a torture chamber,” a voice chuckled from behind him. And Slade froze, staring straight ahead of himself, an even broader smile crossing his face at the sound of the voice. Bernard had left . . . no doubt to get refreshments . . . the voice therefore belonged to. . . Slade shot up, and turned around, smiling, excitement filling him as he grinned across at his white haired friend with the mustache.
illiam only smiled right back with brilliant green eyes, aging quite well himself with only a few lines on his face, wearing a burgundy crushed velvet bathrobe matching his wife’s dress, black dress slacks under that, and velvet slippers. His hair was perfectly trimmed, and his eyes gleamed as he gazed at his longtime friend, “My good friend, it’s good to see you again.” Slade nodded, “Quite.” He was literally quaking with excitement. Then, as if a silent alarm had gone off, Slade rushed over, and the two embraced one another, with the Russian literally picking the shorter man up off of the ground. William Wintergreen Senior chuckled, wrapping his arms around the broader man’s back as Slade literally turned him around where the mercenary stood. Trikk couldn’t help but grin at the broad smile on Slade’s face. It was that smile that let them know that the man was truly, 100%, happy at that moment. For William wasn’t just a friend. To Slade, he was the man who had saved his life from the sad, lonely darkness that he and Ben and Ian had been subjected to by the country they’d trusted since they were infants.
Slade had been so depressed that he’d wanted to die in that prisoner of war camp where William had found him. The Russian had just been lying in some mud when he could have been in a shack or tent surrounding the prison yard of the camp. Instead, he’d decided to just lie out there in the mud, gazing up at the sky with his sad crystal blue eye as the rain fell down upon his body, soaking his clothes and skin with its freezing cold water. Then, out of all of the British soldiers standing there watching the morose Russian, William had been the only one, the solitary soul, to go out and see about Slade. Leaning down, the man frowned, gazing at him, “What do you want soldier? Pneumonia? That’s what you’ll get if you stay out here,” the man muttered in a gruff voice full of authority. Slade blinked up at him silently, not answering. William had frowned harder at him, “Do you understand what I’m saying, soldier? If so, say so.” Slade had opened his mouth and whispered in a raspy voice in perfect English, “I understand, sir.” He closed his eye, and a tear raced down as he choked out, “I’ve understood English for years now. . .” he rolled his head over and gazed with his tears streaming down at Ben and Ian standing under a shack, gazing at him with pity in their eyes. He choked out a sob.
illiam had been unsettled by the pain in Slade’s voice, but had reached out, gripped the man’s jaw firmly, and had wrenched the man’s head around, refusing to cave in pity for the man. “Tell me, what is your name, soldier?” he snarled, frowning at the Russian, believing him to have lost his mind. Slade blinked and whispered the by now automatic response, “I am soldier number 784, sir. Of the Russian Red Army.” William had frowned hard at him, “I don’t care what number you are, soldier. What. Is. Your. Name?!” Slade blinked, gazing at the man in disbelief. It’d been so long since an authority had wanted to know that . . . at first he didn’t know how to respond. William snarled, glaring at him, frustration storming in his green eyes, “Answer me! I know you understand me now! There is no excuse other than rebellion for you not to answer! WHAT IS YOUR BIRTH NAME?! Tell me!” Slade shivered, gazing up at him, and whispered faintly, “Slade Wilson. My name is Slade . . . Slade Wilson, sir.” He closed his eye, and felt a tear race down as he murmured his name again, “Slade . . . Slade Wilson. My name is Slade Wilson. . .” “Well Slade Wilson, you better get out from under this rain. You see, we don’t have the best doctors or medication out here,” William hissed, glaring at the man, “And if you get pneumonia, it won’t be treated. You will die, Mr. Wilson. Do you understand me?! If you don’t get out from under this rain, you will die!” Slade had gazed up at him with that pain and sorrow filled blue eye, and had let out the deepest sigh he’d probably had in his life, “If only it were that easy, sir, I would lay out here for forever in the hopes of reaching that goal.”
The comment had taken Wintergreen completely by surprise, and he had studied Slade’s sorrow filled eye and face closely . . . he took in the tears racing down the man’s wet cheek. For the first time, William had really looked at Slade, and had seen the tortured, tormented soul of the man lying in the mud. And while he couldn’t fathom what had made the man that way, he did observe one thing about the man which he then chose to point out, “You look like you’ve lived a thousand lives and died a thousand times already, soldier. Let’s get you something to eat. That’s an order.” He’d held out a hand. Slade had stared up at the man, blinking at the soldier, a soldier from the opposing army. This man was supposed to be his enemy. That’s what he’d been told. And yet here the man had in his own way shown Slade more kindness than he’d ever received from someone outside of Ben and Ian in a very long time. It was because of this that Slade chose to accept his offered hand. He’d reached up, grasped Will’s hand, and had let the British man help him up from the mud. He had called Ben and Ian over to the two of them after asking for the British man’s permission and receiving it, and the group of men had headed to a shelter where there was some warm porridge being cooked inside of it and some bread. Not stale bread, no, but good whole wheat bread. With real butter. It was the food reserved for the soldiers. It was never meant for prisoners. And yet, William allowed them to eat their fill with him that night. That night, he’d learned what the men had been through, a deep bond had been formed amongst the four men, with Will vowing to get them out of the horrible situation they’d found themselves in for so long. However, an even deeper bond had been forged between him and Slade as he’d gazed down into that dull crystal blue eye for the first real time. Such a bond would never be broken. And such a bond was being displayed before Mary, Slashera, Trikk, and Lilac right there in the living room area of the manor.
nbsp; After two spins, Slade set William down, and the two beamed at one another. Will smiled, “You look well, my dear friend. I am happy you could come.” Slade smiled and turning, motioned to the others, “And I brought some people with me this time.” Will smiled at everyone, and Trikk smiled at the British man. The man had a warm and caring smile that was immediately contagious. Slade led Will over to Slashera first, “Here is Slashera. I’ve told you about her. . .” Will leaned down to be eye level with the child, “Well, hello, madam!” The girl giggled as he lifted the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Hi!” she said excitedly. He smiled at her, “I have something for you. . .” turning to a pocket of his bathrobe, he moved his hand inside and pulled out a chocolate truffle wrapped in gold foil, “Here you are,” he murmured, and Slashera beamed. As the child eagerly unwrapped the paper, Trikk couldn’t help but chuckle at Slade who frowned a little, the man unwilling to object to his friend giving his apprentice chocolate, but not entirely happy with the fact that the man was doing such a thing.
s she chuckled, Will turned to her, and beamed at the young woman, happiness filling his emerald green eyes, “And you must be Miss Trikk. . .” Trikk smiled, nodded, and stood up to be eye level with the man, and held out her hand, which he shook warmly, “Yes sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Oh no, I assure you, Miss Trikk. . .” he leaned down, and kissed the back of her hand, “The pleasure is all mine.” She smiled. Even from where she stood at least a foot away from him, he smelled of peppermint. It was a comforting smell and she liked it. He leaned back and he smiled at her, “Keeping Slade in line?” Slade chuckled, “Hardly.” Trikk frowned at the mercenary then turned to Will and winked, “I’m trying. . .” Will laughed a little, his face stretching in a wider grin, “Is that not the best any of us can do?” Trikk grinned right back at the man, deciding right then and there that she quite liked William Wintergreen. Slade crossed his arms, and smiled a little, tilting his head to the side. Happy things were going so smoothly.
ill suddenly turned to Lilac, “And may I ask your name, darling?” he walked over, and Lilac grinned and stood, “Lilac Potter, Mr. Wintergreen. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He smiled and kissed her hand as well before turning to the others, “Well, the party is not for another 6 hours. . . how about we have Bernard bring us up some nice treats, have some tea, and then . . . presents?” he grinned at Slashera, who beamed at the mention of presents. Then Will chuckled and sat in his armchair. Trikk grunted and moved to sit up, but Slade was yet again sitting at the end of her couch, and he prevented her from doing so. He smirked at her, moving her feet up to rest in his lap and held onto them to prevent her from moving, “No, you need to rest your dear old knee. . .” he chuckled. Trikk frowned at him, narrowing her eyes at him, “Or are you just trying to tickle me again?” Slade only smirked wider at his author and began to tickle her feet.
he gasped, and shot up on the couch, her eyes shut tight, “NO! SLADE, PLEASE!” the girl shrieked at the tops of her lungs. “Oh please, Slade, don’t tickle the poor girl again,” Mary said to the man with a small smile. He grinned at the woman, and moving his hands, began to massage Trikk’s foot instead, “I won’t, Mary. I assure you. I just want Trikk to be comfortable, truly . . . but I can’t help teasing her just a little. . .” he chuckled, grinning at Trikk, who groaned, laying her head back on the arm of the couch, resting a hand on her forehead. “I swear you’ll give me gray hairs before I’m thirty,” the author mumbled, sighing. Slade smirked, “Oh no. I’ll give them to you before you’re twenty, my dear.” “You make me do that, and I’ll find some way to kill you off,” she promised. Slade smirked, “You can try. But for now, just sit back and enjoy your free massage.” “You’re lucky it feels so damn good. Otherwise I’d be kicking your face in,” she snarled at him threateningly, narrowing her eyes at him. He smirked, “Good thing I’m an excellent masseuse, then.”