#heartland christmas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartlandians · 4 months

Text

Christmas in August, part 1/5

Newlyweds Shane and Chloe have just added a new extension to the Bartlett-Fleming-Morris family, but when it seems the couple won't be able to make it "home for the holidays", Tim comes up with an idea to make their first extended family Christmas happen.

Characters: Shane, Chloe, Tim, Miranda, Jack, Lisa, Amy, Lyndy, Lou, Katie, Nathan, (Paul).

A/N: Set around the time of the season 17 finale.

****

The sun was setting behind the treeline on a late August evening and it lit up the silhouettes of the wild herd of horses that were grazing not too far away from the wedding that had taken place where Amy's plot of land laid.

Most of the guests had already left, but not before sharing their praises about how wonderful "the avenue" had been and saying how they had never seen a wedding as beautiful as this.

The only ones lingering where the core family. Even Chloe's parents had returned to Calgary where they had a rented apartment for few days. They were planning to join the happy couple when they'd go and explore the area in just two days.

The newlyweds, Shane and Chloe, had been pleasantly surprised just how well the wedding had gone after all the pitfalls they had had to endure before Amy and Lou had come up with this solution to use this location for the celebration.

The place had been ideal with its scenery and the living backdrop of wild horses minding their business behind them. The playing of the violin and the cello had been a nice touch as well, but now that the artists had packed their instruments and left, the family could hear the birds chirping and the distant whinnying echoing in the valley.

It was a perfect way for the family to wind down after the wedding.

Chloe stood next to Shane, admiring the view and wearing his suit jacket over her bare shoulders, sipping the last of the champagne while the chairs were being folded and decorations were taken down behind them.

Jessica took a quick snapshot of the relaxed moment, hoping to capture something real. When she examined the results on the screen of her camera, it was easy to see that with this couple capturing their love came easy.

"Should we go and give them a hand?" Miranda, the mother of the groom, asked from Lou, pointing toward the crew that had rented the chairs and the wedding arc.

Lou shook her head, holding a bottle of champagne on one hand and her glass on the other.

"I asked, but they said they were fine", Lou replied. "More champagne?" she then offered, seeing there was still something left in the bottle.

"Don't mind if I do", Miranda said with a smile.

Not too far away, Amy was pushing Lyndy in the swing, taking turns with Jack, Lisa and Katie. The girl couldn't get enough of it.

Meanwhile, Tim stepped closer to the newlyweds.

"I don't think I said it yet, but welcome to the family, Chloe", Tim said, coming in to give his new daughter-in-law a hug. "Officially."

"Thank you, Tim", Chloe replied, hugging him back, careful not to drop Shane's jacket.

Shane watched them hug, feeling very happy in this moment.

"So, now that your plans about London have changed..." Tim began talking when they leaned backwards, "I would like to invite you over for Christmas. -- We can make that happen, can't we, Lou?" he looked over his shoulder, toward his older daughter.

Thankfully Lou had picked that up and continued the plan.

"Oh, absolutely. I can make the arrangements. It would be fun to have us all together for the first time like this", Lou joined her dad's idea, putting away the empty champagne bottle.

"Exactly", Tim nodded. "I mean, Chloe, you really want to see the Dude Ranch during the winter too."

Shane and Chloe both smiled politely - thankful for the invite - as she returned to him, but it seemed like something was holding them back.

"Well, actually", Shane began, loving how excited his dad was about the whole thing, but feeling the awkwardness of having to decline the offer. "We are going to be spending our Christmas and New Year's in China, with Chloe's extended family. I haven't really had a chance to meet them properly and--"

"--we're going to have this tea ceremony and a banquet over there as well", Chloe stepped in to help Shane explain.

"Oh..." Tim said, smiling, but the twinkle in his eyes dimming. "So... you'll be gone for... how long?"

"The whole of December and the first week of January as well", Shane explained. "You know, since we're going there, we might as well stay for a while."

"I'm just glad we've both been able to make it work with our jobs", Chloe added. "I know it wasn't exactly ideal for me to go in with the offer from Philly and say "I can start in January", but... I think they really want me, so..."

"Right, right", Tim kept repeating as he nodded. "So, are the holidays a big thing there...?" he wondered, not really knowing much about the culture, but figured it was about time to change that.

"Actually, not really. It's more like a commercial thing, say, like Valentine's Day, almost. But..." Chloe began to explain, but then laughed a little bit, wondering if maybe Shane's side of the family wasn't able to understand the next bit.

However, now that she gave it some thought, they had been very helpful with making sure that her culture would be presented in the wedding ceremony along Shane's.

Especially Lou who had made a list of things Chloe had wanted to incorporate to the wedding, and she really had delivered them all.

So maybe they were going to be understanding of this, too.

"My grandmother has consulted a fortune teller", she finally said. "So the timing of our visit is really important."

"A fortune teller...?" Jessica asked, curiously, beating Tim to the punch.

"Yes. About the timing for the tea ceremony and the banquet. It's about bringing success to our marriage", Chloe explained further.

Tim nodded, even though he had never heard about it, he could understand why these type of traditions were important to people. He had his own traditions too, after all, some of them very spiritual.

Miranda followed the look on everyone's faces, reveling in the fact that she knew all about it already.

"Oh yes, Shane even had to let them know his birthday details, zodiac sign and everything", she then shared, recalling Shane coming to her to ask about the details he wasn't aware of.

While Shane's birth had not been the perfect memory at the time, as she had been alone in a hospital room, trying to bear the cramps and the contractions while nurses and midwives had been prepping her for what was about to come.

All Miranda had wanted back then had been someone there to support her through the labor, but it had just been her and the hospital staff and just like that, a new chapter in her life had begun.

Now, looking at what a fine young man Shane had turned into, all those memories felt distant in the light of the pride she was beaming with now.

"That's really interesting", Tim said - and meant it too. It was his disappointment about the plan not coming to fruition that made it seem like he was just saying that to sound polite.

"Well, maybe we could make this happen next Christmas then", Lou suggested.

It was a bummer her brother and his new wife couldn't make it over this Christmas, but there were other years now that they were reunited again in a more meaningful way.

After all, she could understand how important meeting Chloe's extended family probably was for Shane. Even though her first time meeting Peter's parents had not been perfect, it had still been an important milestone in their history as a couple.

"You know, if we give you the heads up now, we might actually make this happen then", Lou added.

Chloe nodded along.

"Sure, that sounds fun", she said and looked like she was already excited about the idea. "I'd love to see your traditions and Heartland and the Dude Ranch during winter!"

"It's like a winter wonderland, honestly", Shane knew from experience. "Even though it gets bitterly cold, it's beautiful."

"I believe it", Chloe said, letting her hand rest on Shane's chest as they were standing side by side.

Her eyes drifted toward the two bands on her left ring finger and she couldn't help but smile, slowly realizing how it was all official now. The diamond is her engagement ring probably sparkled just as brightly as the fresh snow during Alberta winter.

"I'm just so glad I was able to show you this place - these people - and get married here. It means so much to me", Shane said to Chloe, getting lost in their own little bubble for a while.

"Me too. I know you tried to paint the picture of it all, but you really didn't do all of it justice. I don't know if anyone can..." Chloe said, sighing out of an awe. "There is one thing I feel like was missing, though... Someone I've heard endless stories about."

"Oh yeah? Who's that?" Shane asked, wondering who was not here.

Ty, of course, Shane thought, but Chloe knew that he had passed away few years ago, so him missing the wedding wasn't surprise in that way.

"Didn't you say you had a horse?" Chloe teased. "I guess now that I know how to ride, it would have been cute to go and have a ride together with your very own horse, my cowboy..."

"Oh, Pal!" Shane let out a laugh. "Yeah... I did have a horse. He might not be around anymore, but I'm sure we can still go for a trail ride tomorrow. -- Right, dad?" he checked.

Tim was in his own little world too, thinking back to those times when Shane had still been a little kid - learning how to be a true cowboy - and now the only thing reminding Tim of that was the belt buckle Shane had decided to wear with his suit.

"Dad...?" Shane repeated.

Tim's attention was now back to his son as he lift up his head. "Yeah?"

"We can still go for one last ride tomorrow, can't we? This time Chloe can join us", Shane said.

"Yeah. Of course. Absolutely", Tim assured them, smiling.

The laughter behind them, coming from the swing, had gone quiet a little while ago, but no one had taken notice yet, not before Amy walked over with Lyndy in her arms.

The young girl looked fatigued and pale.

"Lou, can you feel Lyndy's head?" Amy requested.

Lou turned to feel her niece's forehead, seeing the worry on her sister's face already.

"She's burning up", Lou confirmed Amy's suspicions.

"That's what I thought", Amy said, worrying over her daughter. "I'm going to have to cut this after celebration short, but before we go, I just wanted to say that the ceremony was absolutely beautiful and you looked amazing on Powder, Chloe", she added, rubbing Lyndy's back gently.

"Thanks", Chloe said, feeling both honored and worried over Lyndy. It was impressive how quickly she had gotten attached to this family already. "I had the best teacher."

"You're a good student", Amy praised with a smile.

"Is Lyndy gonna be okay?" Chloe had to ask before they'd leave.

"Yeah, I'm sure she will be. She probably just needs rest. Might be a sun stroke, or something", Amy suspected as they had been outside almost the whole day. "I'll ask Grandpa and Lisa to give us a ride back home. -- I'll see you before you leave", she continued, giving Shane a meaningful look, letting her brother know that she didn't want him to leave before they had said their goodbyes.

"Feel better soon, Lyndy", Shane said, gently stroking Lyndy's head. "And see you later, sis", he added to Amy, making sure he'd hold her to it.

"Maybe it's time to wrap things up for us as well", Lou figured, fishing Katie under her arm when her daughter walked back from the swing as well.

"Probably best for all of us", Shane said.

They still had their wedding night ahead of them, even though right now he felt exhausted from all the nerves that had not released until he had seen Chloe ride down the aisle on Powder.

"We'll give you guys a ride", Miranda said, finishing her champagne. "I'll go find Paul. He had to take a phone call", she added, rolling her eyes.

Everyone started collecting their things, making sure they'd leave the place as they had found it.

"I'll see you tomorrow, son", Tim wanted to say and gave Shane's shoulder a light squeeze.

Shane smiled. "Yeah. Can't wait for that trail ride."

#heartland #fanfiction #christmas in august

13 notes · View notes

wildlyglittering · 4 months

Text

Illyrian Comfort Pie

I shared a post with some Christmas OTP prompts and asked if anyone wanted any for Nessian and @dustjacketmusings chose:

"Every country has different traditions for Christmas when it comes to food: trying something new when they have always eaten the same dishes for the holidays feels wrong at first. But when it’s cooked with love by their favourite person, it can sure taste like new traditions."

I don't know if this entirely fills the prompt and it's a lot rougher than I'd like but please enjoy!

Illyrian Comfort Pie

“Fuck you, Morrigan.” Nesta wiped her bare arm across her brow, spices and herbs transferring straight from her forehead onto her forearm, the little green and orange specks dusting her skin. “And fuck you Rhys come to that.”

The alarm on her phone screamed and Nesta whirled around in her small kitchen space. She’d put the device down earlier, stabbing at the timer with a flour covered fingertip whilst trying to shove her pie into the oven.

Where the hell had she put the damn thing?

On the counter stood an open cookbook entitled ‘Recipes from the Heartland of Illyria,’ a bottle of wine which doubled as a rolling pin and cooking motivation, and Nesta’s pathetic pastry attempts one, two, and three – each one slightly less gloopy than the last - until she finally made semi-successful attempt number four.

No phone.

Nesta let out a noise halfway between a screech and a yell, her hands reaching either side of her head, ignoring whatever food stuff would end up in her hair.

“Shit!” At least she managed to remember what the phone alarm was for, swivelling behind her and yanking down the oven door, reaching for the mitts as she ducked a plume of smoke.

This one didn’t smell too bad. Nesta grabbed the pie and shoved it onto the trivet on the counter. The crust was a little singed on one side but, if she was careful, she’d be able to scrape that off.

Her movements jostled a reem of paper towels and as they fell to their side, they revealed the object of Nesta’s irritation. One phone.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her eyes drifting upwards to the ceiling as she turned off the alarm. Her thanks was to whatever cookery god was willing to listen and half to the smoke alarm not going off.

Three notifications waited for her. She took a breath in and hit open on the first one.

Hahaha. You agreed to what?! Even *I* run from making that dish. Pretty sure my *grandmother* ran from making that dish and she used to be a baker. Anyway, are you coming Thursday?

Emerie. Not providing the answers Nesta was so desperately hoping for, instead reminding Nesta she had yet to confirm drinks with her and Gwyn. Nesta typed out a quick response.

Yes to Thursday. Any chance your grandmother would attempt making this again if I paid her?

Sent. Nesta moved onto notification number two - Feyre.

Did you want me to see if the Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street will do a delivery? If you put it in the oven for a bit and burn the edges no one will know.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. The audacity of her sister to assume Nesta would need assistance and that she’d burn the pie. She had burnt the pie but still, the audacity.

She chose not to respond to that one and instead moved to the final notification. Cassian. Nesta took a deep breath and hit open.

Are you having as much fun as I am? Thinking I could do this as a side hustle.

There was a photo attached. Cassian had taken a selfie of himself standing in front of his obnoxiously large quartz kitchen counter. His dark hair was tied in a messy bun and he winked into the camera. He wore an apron Nesta had never seen before, deep red with candy cane striped ties and in Christmas style writing was embroidered ‘Kiss the Chef’ underneath a sprig of mistletoe.

Nesta squinted at the image, zooming past Cassian himself to the dishes behind him slightly out of frame. Was that a bowl of perfectly glazed parsnips? A tray of immaculate shortbreads?

She let out another noise and flung the phone back onto the counter so she could press her palms into her eyes. At this point she was covered in flour, meat juice, and soggy pastry pieces. Sweat gathered under her breasts and trickled down her back from the constant heat of the oven.

Nesta had been baking for over six hours now and though there was a small part of her which wanted to cry, she refused. Although she’d cursed Morrigan and Rhys the biggest ‘fuck you’ should have been delivered to Nesta herself.

She’d agreed to this when she should have declined, and now her pride would cause her to take a fall.

There had been five of them for drinks at Rita’s. Should have been two – only Nesta and Cassian for their quiet post theatre drinks, but Morrigan had been there with other friends who she swiftly abandoned as soon as she saw Cassian arrive.

Within minutes Morrigan had called Feyre and then before Nesta knew it, she was being squished into a booth, Cassian to her left and Feyre to her right, while she sipped her chilled white wine and counted the minutes until it was socially acceptable to say her goodbyes.

“Oh my god,” Morrigan had been saying. “That was the best dish I think I’d ever eaten. Do you remember it Rhys? The caramelised onions and gravy? What was it called again Cass?”

Cassian groaned and lolled his head back. “Illyrian Comfort Pie. My favourite.” He took a sip of his beer. “The Illyrian army did a version with off-cuts, almost ruined a perfect dish.”

“What’s this pie?” Feyre asked.

“Only the best pie in the world,” Cassian replied, his eyes misting over. “Imagine thick tender beef soaked in its own juices for hours, drowned in rich gravy and embedded with caramelised onions all under a cover of hot crust pastry.”

“You need a room, Cass?” Rhys laughed.

Cassian raised his middle finger to Rhys but joined him in the laughter.

“Cassian’s ex made the best version,” Morrigan said, her eyes sliding to Nesta. “Honestly no one would be able to top it. Bri wasn’t even Illyrian but it was spot on.” She took a long sip from her own glass of red wine. “I guess it doesn’t need to be your own tradition if you care enough to put in the effort.”

There was a heavy silence which would have lingered if not for the clearing of Feyre’s throat. “Who’s got who for Secret Santa?”

“Oh, I’m sure if Nesta put in the effort it would be just as good. Right?” Nesta looked up and met Rhys’ eyes as he ignored Feyre’s question. He smirked as he finished speaking, cocking his own beer bottle to his mouth.

Three more pairs of eyes looked her way. Nesta felt the slight, almost imperceptible tensing from Cassian but it was Feyre’s eyes which widened the most. There was a kick against Nesta’s shin under the table.

“I’m sure it would,” Nesta said, “if I had the time.”

“Cassian was telling us at the bar you’re now on vacation. All your gifts already wrapped and under the tree. Sounds like you have time.”

“Rhys...” Feyre began but Morrigan jumped in.

“I think that would be a lovely Christmas present for Cass. You can start your own tradition now you’re official. Illyrian food is so hearty.”

There was a part of Nesta which was too stubborn for her own good. Rhys’ smirk and Morrigan’s too-wide grin opposite her, the meeting of the cousin’s eyes like this was some in-joke they had just started. Feyre kept kicking her under the table, the jostling movement irritating Nesta further.

The flash of irritation was the problem. That, and the second glass of wine she’d drunk on a half empty stomach fuelling it. Her temperature rose and her skin prickled and instead of counting to twenty like she’d been practicing in her apartment Nesta opened her mouth.

“Fine,” she said, “this whole thing sounds great. One Illyrian Comfort Pie it is. When do you want it? Day after next?” Nesta quickly grabbed her glass to take a swig of her drink before she agreed to anything else.

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up but she didn’t want to meet his eyes, he was probably thinking how Nesta wasn’t implementing those ‘take a moment’ techniques. But his hand reached down to clasp her free one under the table, giving it a squeeze.

“You know what?” he said, looking at the group. “I want in on this. New traditions sound great. You’re making mine so how about yours. What’s the Archeron family dish of choice?” He asked this looking at Nesta but she still had the wine glass clamped to her lips. No longer drinking, just holding it there to feel the cold.

“Ooh,” Feyre said, clapping her hands and jiggling a little on her seat. “Roasted venison, but that’s quite tricky. We haven’t eaten that since Elain went vegetarian. We also had roast potatoes and honey glazed parsnips. Green beans. There was a cheesy mash and – oh, oh, the shortbread biscuits with a chocolate drizzle and the Prythian Pavlova. That’s Nesta’s favourite.”

Cassian laughed. “You want to take a breath there, Feyre?”

In response, Feyre’s stomach grumbled. “No, but I think I need some dinner.”

Aside from Nesta, the table laughed. Her wine glass was now empty and back on the table, her fingers toying with the stem, her mind too preoccupied with the thought of this pie and how the hell she’d even find the recipe.

As the chatter resumed, now about where Rhys and Feyre were going for dinner, Cassian’s weight shifted against her, his arm casually slinging around her shoulders.

“You ok?”

She glanced up at him, plastering a smile on her face. “Absolutely fine.”

“Hmm. Is that genuine fine or Nesta fine?”

Cassian was staring at her intently, concern swimming in his dark eyes. She knew if she immediately conceded he’d let it go, their friendship group knew Nesta wasn’t known for her domestic pursuits and Cassian could whip up a mean dish filled with flavour.

If she really wanted to, Nesta could cheat her way out of this. Getting Elain to bake the pie for her would have once been a consideration until Elain and Lucien’s diet change. No meat, no dairy, no sugar.

No flavour, Lucien had added, ignoring Elain’s frown.

Still, there was something else shining in Cassian’s eyes. Excitement. He was pleased she’d agreed, he relished competition in all its forms and he seemed eager to do this with her.

Nesta’s smile melted in a more genuine one and she squeezed his hand back. “Honestly, it’s good. Dare I say I may even find it fun?”

That was two days ago. Two long days.

“Ha!” She now shouted to her cramped kitchen. “Two drink Nesta has no concept of what the fuck fun is.”

Everything was a mess, even the edges of the cookbook were singed and Nesta cringed at the sight. Gwyn had managed to track down the edition on her behalf and Nesta hated to see a book suffer.

She looked at the clock. Two hours to go – plenty of time to shower, dress up and cart the pie to Cassian’s where they would have a grand unveiling in front of their friends. Her phone pinged and Nesta glanced down to see a reply from Emerie.

She says no chance.

“That’s not a problem,” Nesta said, wiping her hands on her thighs and staining her jeans further. “Because I now have a half decent pie.” She picked up the sharp knife. “Just scrape some of the black bits off and we are good to go.”

The knife slid through the crust and Nesta lifted some of the burnt pastry off using the blade. Odd. What was a deep and crispy brown on the surface seemed pale and soft underneath. Almost as though the pastry hadn’t fully cooked all the way through.

“It’s just this bit,” Nesta told herself. “I’m sure the rest is just fine.” But as she gently lifted the pie-top she could see the same pale colour underneath. Worse was the distinct lack of steam rising from the filling. “No, no, no, no. You’ve been in the oven for almost two hours.”

Grabbing a fork, she stuck it into the dish and scooped out a lump of meat. Juice, which looked far too oily for her liking, dripped off the prongs. Nesta placed the meat on the counter and cut through it with a knife.

She was met with resistance. The beef was still cold. A noise left her throat unbidden, something akin to a half sob. Nesta had researched the best meat cuts for the pie, she’d made sure to go to the best butcher and spent no less than forty-five minutes asking the rather exasperated man behind the counter questions from her list.

Her eyes flew up to the clock. Less than two hours to go. The time she’d budgeted to get ready and go to Cassian’s now shrivelled up. Just like my hopes for this pie.

She peered into the dish, the caramelized onions bobbing in the gravy like some apple bobbing contest gone wrong. “You’re mocking me,” she said and then groaned. They wouldn’t be the only ones.

Nesta sank down onto her floor, ignoring the drip of gravy she sat on and put her head on her knees. She could imagine it all now; Feyre, Rhys, and Morrigan all dressed up, swanning around Cassian’s apartment waiting to be served their multiple courses.

Feyre’s eyes would go wide at Nesta’s attempt but she’d try and make Nesta feel better and yet somehow by trying, she’d only make Nesta feel worse. Cassian would likely tuck the monstrosity – if she even bothered bringing it – behind some extravaganza he’d made and perform an elaborate distraction.

Rhys and Morrigan would probably just snigger behind their drinks and tell her that ‘at least she tried.’ Patronising fuckers.

A tear dripped from the corner of her eye down her chin.

Nesta had tried. Had really tried. She’d memorised the recipe from back to front before she even started, she’d gone out into Velaris Market with a clipboard, she’d called Elain early for pastry tips ignoring Lucien joining the call to ask Nesta if she could describe what real food tasted like because the memory of butter was fading fast.

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, knowing she must look even more of a state than before. But wait – there was an option open to her. Hope flared yet.

Nesta grabbed her phone from the counter. What had Feyre said? The Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street might be able to deliver. If anyone served an Illyrian Comfort Pie, it would be them. She scrolled through her favourites for the number. Her and Cassian had eaten there so often, she practically had them on speed dial.

The phone answered after the second ring.

“Hello? Hi. I know it’s late notice but I’m in a bit of a bind and hoping you could help.”

She explained the situation, confirming that yes, her pie request was for that Cassian, the one with the tattoos and arms.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Nesta said, eyeing up the clock and tapping her foot against the cupboard. “I’ll ask him. Some kind of protein shake, I think. Yeah, it’s really glossy hair. I’ll ask him that too. Anyway – the pie?”

They were regretful. Truly. Nesta could almost feel their sorrow down the phone. They didn’t have any pies pre-baked and they wouldn’t have one ready for the time she needed it by. They offered Nesta and Cassian a discount on their next visit and Nesta thanked them before hanging up.

“Well. Shit.”

Her eyes itched and she wanted to cry again but this wasn’t the Archeron way. She shook her shoulders and cleared her throat. There would be no pie but Nesta would be damned if she turned up without bringing anything and looking like a chaotic mess.

The kitchen horror show was a problem for future her, but in less than an hour, she had showered, dressed herself in her most confidence boosting little black dress and practiced her affirmations in front of the hallway mirror.

“You are a calm, confident, capable woman. You did not achieve the pie. Others have probably not achieved the pie. You have achieved other things. Like your best friends, two degrees, and this awesome looking pavlova.”

Nesta held the covered bowl to the mirror as though to show her reflection the cream and meringue evidence. Her lipstick red smile shook a little but the taxi driver was calling to say he was downstairs so there was no time for doubt to creep in.

On a usual night it took too long to get to Cassian’s. The drive was less than fifteen minutes from one end of the small city where Nesta lived to Cassian’s address and every second stretched out painfully slow.

Tonight, it was as though all roads had cleared especially for her just to say ‘look, you can get to your ritual humiliation even earlier.’

“It’s not like I’ve ever seen Rhys or Morrigan cook,” she mumbled to herself as she exited the cab and entered Cassian’s building. The porter nodded and buzzed her in and then Nesta was counting the too-quick numbers on the elevator.

Cassian’s apartment was one of two at the top of the building and though the sound-proofing was excellent, which they could attest to personally, Nesta was surprised at the distinct lack of any festivities sounding from behind his door when she approached.

He answered after one knock, hair freshly washed and dried. His white dress shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top buttons were undone, swathes of black swirling tattoos on display.

Cassian let out a low whistle and grinned like a wolf when he saw her. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite lady, in my favourite dress of hers, with my favourite dish.”

He leant in to kiss her and Nesta winced at the mention of food. Cassian’s lips met hers in a chaste kiss but he must have noticed her response as he was frowning when he pulled away.

“Come in,” he said with a light tone. “Let me take that.” He held his hands out for the bowl she was carrying but she clutched it tighter to her body.

“That’s ok, let me find a space to put it.”

“Sure.”

Nesta stepped further into the apartment. Everything was chrome, quartz, or wood but Cassian couldn’t help himself when it came to Christmas. What was once an interior designers dream for a ‘bachelor living’ magazine spread was now a grotto fit for the dreams of any eight-year-old girl.

A smile lifted the corner of her lips. She’d never begrudge him this. Foster care and ten endless churn of care homes hadn’t left Cassian with any sense of home and the orphanage tried their best but lacked the funds.

Cassian had told her that his best Christmas eventually came in the Illyrian military and all that involved was eating dry turkey from paper plates and reading stupid jokes from cheap crackers. But he was with people that felt like family and that’s what mattered the most.

Now, garlands hung from the oversized windows, a tree larger than Cassian himself stood by the fireplace decked with shining ornaments. A range of presents piled up under the tree to the point where they spilled across his floor.

Stockings on the mantel, rugs everywhere, gingerbread houses which increased in number each time Nesta was over. Candles on every surface.

“Wine?” Cassian asked as Nesta slid the bowl onto his counter. She nodded while taking a breath in. Ham and apricot, honey, a distinct scent of rich chocolate. All the food laid out but under coverings to keep them fresh.

Her stomach stank. She’d failed him so miserably.

Her face must have painted a picture because Cassian moved beside her. “Hey, what’s up.” His fingers tucked under her chin, tilting her face to his. Those deep eyes of his, again swimming in concern.

She hoped the best Christmas present she could get him was honesty.

“I fucked it.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“The pie, I completely fucked it up.”

His confused blank expression immediately melted and he laughed, his head thrown back and the column of his throat on display. His face in laughter was a delight, he was young and happy and in love with life. “Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“There is no pie. I botched it.”

He looked down at her, his expression softening, his smile gentle. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t. That pie is an art only the devil knows how to get right. Did you know Emerie’s grandmother won’t even make one and she won Illyrian baker of the year for fifteen years?”

Nesta coughed and reached for the wine poured out for her. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Cassian moved round the counter to Nesta’s dish. “So, what did you bring?”

“The only thing that didn’t involve my oven. The meringue isn’t even home-made. I’m such a sellout.”

He peeked under the covering and exhaled. “Oh, thank the Mother.” He stepped back, his hand over his heart. “I fucked it.”

Now, Nesta blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“The meringue for the Prythian Pavlova. It was the one thing I wanted to get perfect but do you know how hard meringue is to make? I couldn’t even make it to the store.”

He shook his head, grabbing his own glass of wine. “I even rang Elain to ask her for tips but Lucien answered and begged me to tell him in great detail how the filo wrapped parcels were smelling. He said, and I quote ‘go low and take your time’. I’m not sure how comfortable I am having them over for New Year.”

Nesta laughed, shaking her own head, glancing around the apartment. It had taken her long enough but something finally dawned on her. “Am I early? When are the others arriving?”

Cassian paused, swirling his glass. “Yeah, about that... I thought ‘fuck ‘em.’”

Nesta’s eyes bulged. “I think I’m missing something.”

Cassian put his glass down and leant back against the far counter.

“You know Bri’s pie wasn’t all that great. Mor was being...” he trailed off, scratching his eyebrow the way he did when he was uncomfortable. “Mor was being difficult and it was unfair. Rhys too. But I liked the idea of you and I doing our own holiday tradition so I guess I thought I’d see where we ended up.”

He gestured to his apartment and the dishes before them. “So, we ended up here. Just you and I, a bottle of wine, lots of delicious food and a very comfy rug we’re fucking on after dinner.”

“Is that right?” Nesta said, putting her glass down. She walked over to him. “Have you seen what you’ve made? We are not fucking after dinner.” She placed her hand on his chest, his heart beating a rhythm against her palm as she ignored his disappointed face. “We’re fucking before dinner.”

That wolf grin was back on his face and he leant forward to kiss her but Nesta stopped him. “I feel bad, everything here is an Archeron dish. You didn’t get your pie.”

“Oh, I’ll get to eat my pie.”

“Cassian!”

He laughed again, his broad arms wrapping around her body. “The fact that you tried means everything. I promise. This is a great start to our forever tradition.”

Nesta looked up at him; the hours of failed baking, the constant smoke alarms, the mess she had to clear up tomorrow. Worth it. All of it. “Forever you say?”

“Forever.”

60 notes · View notes