,. nutcracker

[ethan rafferty]

-----CHRISTMAS. Candy canes, snow, crackers, Santa Claus... It was a national obsession that left Ethan cold. It was also the time of year Christian liked to turn up at his apartment uninvited (sometimes even sporting a Father Christmas hat, the nauseating bastard) to drag him back to the manor, back to the place he used to call home, to spend the holidays with a bunch of traitors. Good fucking tidings. Sighing as the overly animated golden retriever of a man that was his elder brother bundled him out of the apartment for the second year running, Ethan snatched his arm back.
--"I'm not going, Tristan. Not this year, not after last year.

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"Not after last year? Why brother, whatever are you referring to?[/font][/i]" Nu-uh. That dumb act might work on the others, but it wasn't going to work on Ethan, no fucking chance.
"Don't give me that shit, Hart. Not today.[/font][/i]"
The man sighed, pushing at black hair in exasperation. "Please Ethan, it won't be like that this time. I promise. We're family, Christmas is a time for family![/font][/i]"
"Some fucking family. No.[/font][/i]"
"What if I promised Rex would behave himself? Maybe even get into the holiday spirit?[/font][/i]"
Ethan snorted. "Then I'd wonder which poor sap you'd conned into posing as him.[/font][/i]"
"Fair enough. But that's not the point, he wants you there. I want you there. Tom wants you there, even Dorian wants you there... though, y'know, he expresses it in his own unique way.[/font][/i]"
"Look, it's nice of you to try, Big C, but thanks but no thanks.[/font][/i]"
Christian became decidedly whiny. "But Ethannn--[/font][/i]" how was it even possible to bestow a name with that much whinging? "-- even Tommy's girlfriend's coming, can't you see it won't be the same without you?[/font][/i]"
--Something caught in Ethan's throat. He paused, his heartbeat pumping in his ears, and he's convinced he's visibly sweating. Eventually collecting himself, he managed to resume nonchalance, even feigning defeat.
"Alright, alright, don't get ya g-string in a twist. I'll come,[/font][/i]" having held his hands up in surrender, he lets them drop to point at the older man, "but, I swear, any one of you does anything to piss me off and--[/font][/i]"
"--you'll rip our heads off and piss down our throats, yeah, yeah, yeah. All I wanted to hear, Raffy, all I wanted to hear![/font][/i]" He's so smug Ethan almost wants to take it back, maybe even punch him in the face for good measure. But then he remembers why he's going, thinks of all the stolen glances and throwaway remarks he'll be able to collect over the time he stays.
---Charlotte will be sitting pretty all week, and not even ol' hawk-eyed Tommy will be able to watch her all the time.
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[ethan rafferty]

-----EVERYTHING was almost exactly as he expected it to be. The manor was perfectly decorated, not so much like something you see in a magazine as the actual place you see plastered across glossy interior design pages. Rex's butler was spending much of his time whipping up Christmas tree shaped cookies, Christian was badgering him and Dorian to go caroling (that'd be a cold day in hell), Dorian himself was beheading paper angels, and Tom was spending much of his time dodging Charlotte, given that she'd taken to carrying a sprig of mistletoe around with her. Why she'd have to resort to trickery was beyond Ethan, but he'd declined to comment, much as he had done for the two days since he'd arrived. It was all infuriatingly joyous - so much so that even Rex had cracked a couple smiles - but try as he might, he couldn't get into it. He felt like a fraud just being there, even wearing the reindeer jumper Christian had forced over his head, even eating one of those delicious cookies, even begrudgingly joining in a chorus of 'Last Christmas'. Despite all statements to the contrary, he didn't feel like he belonged.
---And so he slinked off to his room. The room he had dwindled part of his teenage years away in was now Tom's, filled with books and notes and ink vials, almost looking more like the room of a Victorian poet than a modern day American teenager. Ethan was convinced the boy left his laptop in an inconspicuous place so that it not look anachronistic, though he hadn't been able to stand looking at the place long so maybe he'd missed it. It was like finding someone else's tombstone above your supposed grave. He was glad that he'd been given a room on the opposite side of the house, and was bemused to discover that Charlotte was staying in another guestroom hardly a stone's throw away. Classic Tommy; blessed with a wide expanse of arcane knowledge, but so uneducated on the simpler pleasures in life that it bordered on genuine retardation. That he could be having sex with Charlotte whenever he liked and wasn't was borderline grounds for sectioning as far as Ethan was concerned, an alien concept that kept him from ever being too jealous of his little brother. There was no use having something if you weren't going to use it, after all.
---Opening the heavy oak door with a weary sigh, he didn't even bother to turn the lights on before collapsing onto the four poster bed, suddenly more tired than he realized. All that pretense at goodwill must have been taking it out of him. But instead of soft, plush bed covers rising up to cradle him, he was being jabbed in the back by a small, papery object. "What the--" he muttered, fishing around under himself until he grasped it, pulling out a small and beautifully wrapped gift. Charlotte. He could tell this was her doing without reading the tag, but he read it anyway, her curling letters so pretty, so girly, that he couldn't help but smile. Pulling the paper off with the deftness of a child, his smile broadened into a grin. He was met by a finger puppet representation of himself. The little leather jacket and smirking expression were dead giveaways. He imagined his brothers all had counterparts awaiting them on their beds, but all the same he felt personally touched, all the feelings of warmth people traditionally associate with Christmas hitting him all at once, there and then, grinning down at his felt doppelganger. Maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all.

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