Dec 6th: What I Need (Teahouse)
Title: What I Need
Fandom: Teahouse
Characters: Xanthe & Linneus (Cameos by Claret, Argent and Axis)
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue! It's Christmas after all!
Rating: PG (Because it happens in a brothel. No other reason)
Christmas morning is a rush of feet down the stairs, squealing in the sitting room as Claret finds her gifts, the quiet presence of Argent next to him at the stove as he takes over breakfast duties for the maid who was supposed to work that day. It’s good to know that one little boy will have his mother home for the holiday after all. Argent hands him a bowl of beaten eggs and he smiles as he pours it into the scalding hot pan with a soft sizzle. There are arguments floating though from the sitting room which he knows means Axis has arrived and pushed through them to grab his own gift. It’s familiar and comforting in a way he hadn’t realised he needed.
Arguments aren’t the only thing that drifts through. As he tosses sausage and festively hued peppers into the omelette, a familiar shadow escapes the ruckus and moves into the kitchen. He doesn’t interrupt them, just watches for a few moments before dropping his head into his arms. Linneus keeps cooking, and ignores the warm ache of wish-I-could in his chest as he drops a big handful of cheese into the pan. It’s not until Argent dashes away to see to a truly horrendous sounding crash that anything else happens. Even then it’s a small thing; Xanthe lifts his head slowly and watches Linneus fill plate after plate quietly.
“Linneus?”
His oldest friend makes a soft noise of confirmation, focussing on flipping the cooked egg into a neat parcel.
“Don’t you ever want to see what you’ve got under the tree?”
“Yes, but I can wait. It’ll still be there later.”
“You used to get excited about Christmas presents.”
“I used to, yes.” Xanthe blinked across at Linneus, waiting expectantly until the other man finally turned with a smile that was a little too calm, a little too polished. It made something sink right down to the boss’ boots. “But I doubt we’d fit what I really want under there.”
Fandom: Teahouse
Characters: Xanthe & Linneus (Cameos by Claret, Argent and Axis)
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue! It's Christmas after all!
Rating: PG (Because it happens in a brothel. No other reason)
Christmas morning is a rush of feet down the stairs, squealing in the sitting room as Claret finds her gifts, the quiet presence of Argent next to him at the stove as he takes over breakfast duties for the maid who was supposed to work that day. It’s good to know that one little boy will have his mother home for the holiday after all. Argent hands him a bowl of beaten eggs and he smiles as he pours it into the scalding hot pan with a soft sizzle. There are arguments floating though from the sitting room which he knows means Axis has arrived and pushed through them to grab his own gift. It’s familiar and comforting in a way he hadn’t realised he needed.
Arguments aren’t the only thing that drifts through. As he tosses sausage and festively hued peppers into the omelette, a familiar shadow escapes the ruckus and moves into the kitchen. He doesn’t interrupt them, just watches for a few moments before dropping his head into his arms. Linneus keeps cooking, and ignores the warm ache of wish-I-could in his chest as he drops a big handful of cheese into the pan. It’s not until Argent dashes away to see to a truly horrendous sounding crash that anything else happens. Even then it’s a small thing; Xanthe lifts his head slowly and watches Linneus fill plate after plate quietly.
“Linneus?”
His oldest friend makes a soft noise of confirmation, focussing on flipping the cooked egg into a neat parcel.
“Don’t you ever want to see what you’ve got under the tree?”
“Yes, but I can wait. It’ll still be there later.”
“You used to get excited about Christmas presents.”
“I used to, yes.” Xanthe blinked across at Linneus, waiting expectantly until the other man finally turned with a smile that was a little too calm, a little too polished. It made something sink right down to the boss’ boots. “But I doubt we’d fit what I really want under there.”