December Never Felt So Wrong {Angus Tully x Reader}
Summary: You didn't want to go anymore; not after what just happened in your room with Angus. Still, you had to. In the end...well, happy birthday, Jesus; sorry your party was so lame.
Part 6 of ?? (Masterlist)
Warnings: Swearing, in depth discussions of grief, mention of character death.
The song is for you theatre kids; yes, there is a Christmas album of the cast of Hadestown. While I love the original, the one with Reeve Carney and Eva Noblezada hits different. I think this was my favorite one to write so far; especially with the interactions with Mary and Elise. Also, lol, possible interpretation of reader's character having a thing for Elise? Again, it's all up to you, but just wanted to say that. Also, part 3 of not being able to escape being an awkward/moody teenager because it's a fanfiction. Anywho, hope you guys cry, but it'll be worth it :)
Word Count: 6.1k
You dared not look at Angus the whole drive to Miss Crane’s house. Even when getting into the car, you avoided his gaze like Lot did Sodom and Gomorrah. There was no way, after he was more than likely going to kiss you (or you him), could you even acknowledge his existence.
But why did you stop yourself from kissing him?
No matter, as your father drove all of you to Miss Crane’s house, you managed to block out that question which clawed at your mind. The door was unlocked when you four arrived at seven, and you filtered in. The house was still heavily decorated in Christmas paraphernalia like you had seen it days ago when you were with Elise. Yet, with how many people were gathered on just the first floor alone, it almost felt as if you were entering a stranger’s house.
Well…not exactly.
Truth be told, this was neither you nor your father’s first Christmas party with Miss Crane. You went with your mother to only one before she passed, and even though Miss Crane would still hold out invitations for you and your father…neither of you ever went. Elise and her aunt would understand of course, especially in the first years after your mother passed; Christmas is always a complicated time after the death of a loved one.
“You made it!” Miss Crane’s voice of gratitude and her gently clutching your arm broke your thoughts. “Welcome. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”
She had looked at Mary once you nodded with a smile, and Mary mirrored her. “We’re happy to be here. Where should I put these?”
Miss Crane lifted the cover of the brownies Mary was holding at and gasped before taking the tray. “Those I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”
Mary laughed. “Oh, you’re a wicked woman!”
“You have no idea.”
“Certainly a lot of people here!”
Leave it to your father for that to be the first thing he says. Still, Miss Crane took it in stride.
“Yeah, yeah, some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”
She spent her time pointing out all of her family members (some you remembered, most you had no idea who they were), and you were honestly blanking out. Up until you saw a familiar face.
“Elise!” You cheered as if she was your guardian angel. You hadn’t even noticed Angus wandered off to stare at a snow globe until you saw him visibly flinch upon your exclamation.
Your friend laughed as you embraced her. “Nice to see you too.”
“It’s been forever!”
“It’s been two days.”
The adults around you merely chuckled, and once again, it was Miss Crane who spoke up. “This is Angus Tully, he’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise.”
Neither of you had pulled away from each other during this whole introduction and were merely still wrapped in each other’s arms as if it were normal. Still, it did not escape you how, once Elise and Angus’ eyes met, it was as if you weren’t there.
“Niece Elise.” He nodded, smiling. “Nice.”
And it seemed like he felt the same. So, there you were, between them in a strange physical and emotional sense. Of course, you were selfish, so you couldn’t revel in the discomfort for long.
“You must forgive him.” You said to Elise but loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s so simple minded, he finds rhymes to be most intriguing.”
She giggled, shaking her head, and Angus rolled his eyes. “Can you go one night without being mean to me?”
“Fitzwilliam,” you smiled, pulling away from Elise. “you’re asking me not to breathe.”
Your father intervened. “Alright you two; no need to fight when we’ve barely gotten through the door.”
Miss Crane tapped his shoulder, looking back at Elise. “This is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?”
“Ancient Civilizations.” He said.
It seemed like her words fell on deaf ears to you, Elise, and Angus. The way they were looking at each other…how Elise would glance at everyone only for her eyes to land back on Angus, and how it was the same for him too…
Neither of them ever looked at you though; only at each other.
Miss Crane called your name, and then Elise’s. “Why don’t you take Angus to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition? Do you remember?” She asked you.
You were honestly so discombobulated, you could only huff. “Good lord, it’s been years.”
“Oh hush, you remember.” Elise teased. “Come on.”
She led you and Angus down to the basement, and you both followed. It was almost frightening how much whiplash you’d gotten just from taking one step down the stairs and was immediately met with Holly Jolly Christmas and the smell of glue. Several kids, as young as five and as old as eleven, sat down at the tables you sat at only once, creating what they deemed to be works of art.
“This is what you wanted to show me?” Angus chuckled.
It was normal for someone to laugh at it. Hell, you knew he was laughing with it, but this was the most he had been on your nerves all week (for many reasons you were too bothersome to list).
“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties.” Elsie smiled, tilting her head to you. “She was only here once, but I still think the pieces we’ve made should be hung in the National Gallery, don’t you agree?” She said your name.
You put on a smile. “For sure.”
“I think it’s kind of cool.” She said. “There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”
She could study Art History, perfect her French, move to Paris and work as a tour guide in the Louvre. That was a dream she told you she had ever since you were children; but yet there she was, throwing it all away to flirt with a boy she had just met.
One who wasn’t even attractive at that (not the first lie you told yourself that night).
“Picasso’s cool.” Angus immediately said. “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse?”
He attempted to pose like the painting you wish you could see, and it was so dreadful you didn’t know which one was worse; that or him and Elise’s incessant talking about the stupid painting at the stupid Museum of Modern Art in stupid New York City. So, to spare yourself, you immediately ducked into a small table of little girls; something you thought you would do only if you were held at knife point.
Still…they were actually sweet, surprisingly. You all would ramble about meaningless things, which perhaps made it all the more meaningful when you would laugh at the stories they told you; whether it was something tame that happened in kindergarten, or what a third grade girl said to you.
“Boys are stupid.”
You nodded. “That they are. Although, I’ve found that a few of them are nice.”
“I said they’re stupid, not mean.”
“Well, they can be. But again,” you reiterated. “they can be sweet.”
“Not like my daddy.” A six-year-old girl spoke up, drawing on her paper plate with a purple crayon shorter than your temper around some men. “Mama says she ‘put him in the doghouse’. Which is weird, we don’t even have a dog, why would we make a house for him?”
You fought every part of yourself to not laugh. So, you merely smiled politely. “That does seem rather unusual.”
“You talk funny.” One of the older girls said.
“So do you.” Was your reply.
“Do not!”
“Do too.”
“Do not!”
You were about to continue the ridiculous chain until you heard Elise laugh. Your head immediately snapped to see how she and Angus were hunched over some paper with their hands completely covered in paint. It was like the aftermath of a car crash; you couldn’t look away no matter how much you knew deep down it would only hurt you to keep watching.
She had that look in her eyes you rarely ever had with boys, and although you were practically on the other side of the room from them, you could cut the tension with a knife if you had one; and proceed to stab yourself like Juliet.
Then, like you knew she would, Elise kissed him.
That’s what made you tear your gaze away, and you took your father’s advice from long ago: once you felt sick, you ran away.
Your chest was constricting by the time you got up the stairs, and you wanted to say it was because of going up them so quickly, but it wasn’t. Hell, it wasn’t fully because of seeing them kiss, it was a little, but there was something else; what, you had no idea.
This was all your own fault anyway; you told her from the start you didn’t like him (you didn’t, what’s made you change?) and that she’d probably like him (they’d be good for each other too; she’s sweet, he’s not, they’d balance each other out).
Taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart, you decided that whatever was weighing on your shoulders, you weren’t going to let it ruin the rest of your night; Angus and Elise be damned. You decided to people watch to soothe our worries and create imaginary stories for each and every person that passed your way; a game you and your mother played whenever you went out.
There was an older man with his wife, both perhaps in their early nineties. They met in Boston by chance, he had grown up there, she was from Wyoming perhaps and wanted to experience a city to the east that wasn’t New York.
A woman just a little older than you sat by herself with a drink in her hand. She told herself and everyone else she’s content with just sitting against the wall, watching the room be full of life, and she genuinely meant it.
Your father…oh! He was talking with Miss Crane, and it seemed to be going well.
So, to give him privacy, you decided to further wander around the house. All seemed well as Christmas carols played throughout the halls, until you reached the kitchen.
There, hunched over in the corner with her shoes off, was Mary Lamb, trembling. You felt your soul leave your body, and your eyes met Danny (you hadn’t even known he was there until you saw him move towards you).
“I…” He began. “Do you want to try to talk to her?”
All you could do was nod, approaching her. “Mary?”
She shook her head, not saying a word. You stood beside her and saw as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Your breath shuttered with hers; you already knew. Even without her having to tell you, you already knew.
“Do…do you want me to get my dad?” You asked meekly.
Mary didn’t say anything. You just looked at Danny and nodded. Turning on your heel, your chest wasn’t constricting, but you felt like there was something rotten within your stomach. Something so rotten only a parasite would find it delicious and decide to eat every part of you.
Which is of course when you would quite literally bump into Angus Tully coming back up from the basement.
“Hey,” he greeted with the biggest smile on his face. “thought you got lost, where-?” Just as he saw your fallen face, his did as well. “Are you okay?”
You swallowed thickly, feeling tears spring into your eyes. “Where’s my dad?”
“What happened?” He softened his voice and it only made you want to tear him apart.
Shaking your head, you asked again. “Where is he? I…”
He said your name, repeating his question. “What happened?”
Taking a deep breath, you only said. “Mary…”
Angus nodded, not needing anything else. “I’ll go find him.”
You turned back to the kitchen, waiting with bated breath and arms crossed. Your father and Angus came in soon after, seeing Mary the exact same way you saw her over the kitchen counter.
“Mary?” Your father asked gently. “Mary, are you all right?”
“Just leave me alone.” She grumbled.
Danny placed a hand on her back. “Want me to take you home?”
“Back off!” She hissed, turning around. “Back off.”
Your father shut the door as she cried, and you felt shame that you couldn’t even pick your gaze up from the floor while it all happened.
“He’s gone.” She sobbed, and that was all it took for everyone to decide to go home.
Your throat was clogged with emotion the whole time, and you felt bad for asking to say goodbye to Elise as Mary clung to your father and Angus.
“Just make it quick.” Your dad said, and you didn’t even take time to nod, sprinting back to the basement.
It was as if nothing changed, and she smiled up at you once you came down the stairs.
“So?” Her face was all aglow as if you had something good to tell her.
“I…” you swallowed. “We have to go.”
“What?”
“Mary uh, her son…well…” Why couldn’t you just say it?!
Elise nodded. “Oh…I’m sorry.”
“No, no,” you shook your head. “I’m just sorry we have to go; I was having fun.”
She tilted her head to the side, her gentle smile being a dead giveaway, she knew you were lying. But, to not bring that up, you tried another tactic.
“So…Angus.”
Elise shook her head, laughing. “He’s nice and smart too; I can see why you’re friends with him.”
You cringed. “I wouldn’t really say that.”
She said your name, a little more serious. “I know something’s bothering you. I don’t know if it’s with Mary or Angus, but please just tell me.”
It was a lot of things; not being able to go to Copenhagen, Teddy Kountze and Jason Smith being sorry excuses for men, the damn letters, Angus Tully telling your father about the damn letters, Angus Tully in general, the stupid Christmas party and…and…
“I’m…I’m glad you like him.”
No, it wasn’t that but that’s all your mouth could form.
She nodded. “I do, but now after meeting him in person,” she shrugged. “just a friend. Not even really, I barely know him. I don’t know why you’d think he’d be my type.”
“You kissed him.”
“Yeah?”
“What do you mean ‘yeah’?!” You cried. “Don’t lie to me and say you didn’t even have the tiniest crush on him.”
“Like how you’re lying to me right now?”
That was uncalled for (in your mind at the time, in actuality, yeah it was called for). “What?”
“I asked you what’s bothering you, but you’re not telling me.” She looked annoyed now, and that was worse than if she was fuming. “Look, unless you like killed someone, it can’t be that bad.”
Swallowing thickly, you took a few moments to try your best to recover yourself. Saying hesitantly. “I…I think I’m being stupid.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Why are you stupid?”
“I don’t want you to leave me for some dumb boy.”
She stared at you, and you were surprised how quickly she responded despite the astonished look on her face. “First of all, not going to happen-.”
“-You say that now.”
“Let me finish, please. Second of all, you’re not stupid because of that; not for anything, mind you.”
Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and leaned against the wall of the basement, Judy Garland singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas in your ears. “I don’t know why I’m making a big deal about it.”
“It’s normal.” She leaned with you. “Half of my friend group back home ditched me to spend more time with their boyfriends. What’s funny is that some of them have a new one every month.”
“It shouldn’t be normal.”
“It shouldn’t,” She shook her head. “and for the record, I meant it’s normal to freak out about it. I want you to know thought that I won’t do that, and you better not either.”
“Never.” You chuckled. “Besides, a boy has to like me first for that to happen.”
Elise grinned as if she was the Chesire Cat from Alice in Wonderland
“What?” You gave her a look.
“I think you should talk to him.”
You already knew who he was, but your heart still stopped. “I…I…him?! Which him?”
“Just talk to him.”
You stood absolutely still…What the flying fuck were you supposed to do with that information?! Before you could utter another word, Elise hugged you tightly. “Merry Christmas,” she said your name so sweetly before pulling away but still holding you at arm’s length. “if you need anything, just come over; I’ll be here until after News Years.”
All you could do was nod, wishing her a ‘Merry Christmas’ and then having her walk with you up the stairs and out the door. Everyone was waiting for you in the car, and you somberly entered the other side in the back.
“Are you okay, baby?” Mary, to your surprise, was the one to ask.
“Uh huh.” Was your immediate response, nodding.
The rest of the car ride back to Barton was silent, and it began to snow.
It was the second time (two too many) you lied to Mary that winter break; you weren’t fine. You laid awake deep into the night despite the fact you couldn’t hear your father snoring anymore. You not being able to sleep only caused you more stress, which caused you not to sleep.
After tossing and turning for perhaps almost an hour, one thought made you sit up in bed.
You forgot to lay out Christmas cookies and milk.
You also forgot to make the Christmas cookies.
So, not having anything else better to do, you slipped on your shoes, stole your father’s flashlight, and snuck down into the kitchen.
You only needed the flashlight in the darkened halls, because to your surprise, the kitchen was completely illuminated. If that wasn’t enough, you saw Mary sitting at the main counter, smoking a cigarette. You stopped in the doorway, almost hiding behind the corner like you were a little girl again when you first met her.
She glanced at you, not that surprised. “What’re you doing up?”
You pursed your lips. “I wanna make Christmas cookies.”
It was stupid. Even if Santa existed, he wouldn’t bother with a stupid school, so why keep putting out cookies and milk only for you or your father to always be the one eating them and making a joke out of it Christmas morning?
Because why not?
“Okay if I help?” She asked.
A hint of a smile spread upon your lips. “If you don’t mind.”
You and Mary could tie your own aprons, but whenever you cooked together, you liked tying each other’s. You didn’t argue as she told you what ingredients to grab, and soon, after mixing together the wet and dry ingredients, then rolling the dough out, you were placing down several upon several different cookie cutters.
It all seemed well, working with only limited amount of talking but still smiling, and then, the thought that loomed in the back of your mind came forward.
“You alright?” You looked up at her and nodded without saying anything. She sighed, saying your name. “I know you’re not; and I know you weren’t after talking to miss Elise. Now, what is it?”
“Tell her.” your thoughts urged over and over again.
“I…” You sucked in a breath. “Can I ask you something? And you can tell me to fuck off if it’s-.”
“-Hey,” she interrupted. “baby Jesus is being born in half an hour, don’t use that kind of language; but yes, what is it?”
You surprised yourself by laughing briefly, then asking. “What was he like? Like…before I met him?”
Mary looked up, and for a moment you thought she was going to break down again, but she shook her head, returning back to cutting the cookies and placing them on the baking sheet. “Not much different from when you were nine and he was ten.”
“He always teased me for being two years older than me until he realized my birthday was before his,” you smiled. “then he wasn’t so old for a while.”
She nodded. “I think that was the only thing he was competitive at.”
“What was the first thing he wanted to be when he grew up?”
“Fireman.” She answered without having to think.
You grinned. “And what’d you think of that?”
“I knew he’d grow out of it.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What was little Mary like?”
She huffed, a jesting smile on her face and that was enough for you. “Young, in love, could be freer than a bird one moment, and then quiet with her nose in her Bible the next.”
“How’d you meet Curtis’ dad?”
“School,” she peeled the last residue cookie dough off the cookies. “we were in choir together.”
“Wait a minute,” You giggled, picking up one of the sheets of cookies. “you never said you were in choir!”
She took the other one, and you both walked to the preheated oven, and she opened it. “I thought that was obvious when I took you and Curtis to church?”
“We were too busy plugging our little ears.”
“Hey!” She scolded after sliding in her sheet.
“Because of Old Lady Washington!”
“I understand if her singing was like a dying cat, but she was a good woman, God rest her soul. So, you say a prayer for her right now, you nasty, rotten creature.”
Sighing heavily, you take one hand off the tray you were holding to make the sign of the cross, and mouth a prayer.
“That’s better.” Mary nodded. “You want me to put the cookies in for you?”
“I’m a big girl.” You stated proudly, but as you bent down to slide the baking sheet into the oven, you hesitated, feeling the heat already burn your fingers.
You gave it to Mary yet felt no shame doing so.
“You wanna frost them?” She asked, and you both sat down at the table, waiting for them to bake.
“No.” You shook your head. “Too tired.”
“Thank you.” Mary said. “It’s…it’s good to talk about Curtis. I think I miss you both being little the most; don’t tell your dad I said that.”
Chuckling, a memory came to mind; one you thought you would take to your grave but…perhaps it was a good time to share it.
“You know…” you trailed off, a hint of sudden uneasy but joy lacing your insides. “Shit, I’ve never told anyone this before. But…he and I were each other’s first kiss.”
“Oh, I’ve known that.” Mary answered nonchalantly. “It was the first thing he told me when he got home that night.”
“Are you kidding me?!” You laughed.
“Hey,” She said playfully. “keep it down; the men need their beauty sleep.”
Shaking your head, you couldn’t help your giggling. “I mean, fuck, it meant nothing; we weren’t even teenagers, we just watched it in movies, saw my mom and dad do it like once, so of course we were curious. No, no, you wanna know the best part?” Sudden laughter filled your lungs, and you could barely make a coherent sentence. “I-I had a crush on him from thirteen to fifteen, and he had a crush on me when he was ten until he was, God I don’t actually remember. He enlists months ago, not even a full year, and before he goes that’s when he tells me had liked when we were kids. It-It meant nothing, he just wanted to let me know and-!”
Mary’s hand on yours never grounded you faster. Your whole world stopped, and when you looked at her, seeing her eyes that were both concerned, but not at all shocked, your heart did as well. You dropped your head in shame.
“I’m sorry.”
“Never be.” She squeezed your hand.
“I…” you suddenly lost your voice for a second. “I think I…I think I miss him.”
What a stupid way to say it. Of course you did, you had been ever since your father woke you up in the early morning to let you know. Still…what you knew the whole night, what the most bothersome thing that had been festering within you was:
“He’s really gone.”
“Me too.” She said softly, pulling you into a hug.
You couldn’t cry. You wanted to, God, you wanted to. You teared up this time around, but somehow, despite realizing everything all at once…no cathartic outburst, no weeping and screaming without a care in the world…
Just you and Mary Lamb, holding each other for only God knows how long.
“Oh,” Mary’s voice took you out of the peacefulness, and turned to see what she was looking at. “another one.”
There, in a white shirt and plaid pajama pants, was Angus Tully; hiding behind the corner just as you did.
“I’m surprised you managed to make your way through the school without bumping into anything.” Mary stole the comment you would’ve made if you weren’t frozen already.
Angus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and smiling. “I’m surprised neither of you heard it. What’re you doing up so late?”
He was looking at you when he asked, and you wanted to take the butter knife off the counter and gouge out his eyes to get him to stop.
Instead, all you said was. “Christmas cookies.”
“Nice.” He nodded, and the kitchen was left in a silence colder than the air outside.
Mary looked in between the both of you, before pursing her lips and untying her apron. “Well, I’m off to bed.”
“But-.” You began.
“-Angus, you’ll help take the cookies out of the oven, won’t you?” She asked him. “Little Jane Bennett’s always been scared of getting burnt.”
“Mary.” You warned, both about exposing your irrational fear, and also leaving you alone.
He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, and you wanted to throw him out an open window. “For sure.”
“Alright,” she sighed in relief, then walking past him to her room. “Merry Christmas you two, and don’t stay up too late.”
“No promises.” Angus joked, turning his head. When he looked back at you, you stood a little taller as if trying to compete with his height. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I actually wanted to tell you-
“-Would you like some hot chocolate?” You sputtered out.
He blinked, taking in your question. “Yeah…yeah that sounds great. I don’t know where they keep the packets-.”
“-No, I’ll make you what my mom made me.”
…Was this your way of telling him you liked him? It could be worse; you could’ve said: ‘You’re so pretty, I want to throw a rock at you.’
Still, he smiled. “Alright then, what do we need?”
Technically, high quality chocolate, but you were at Barton; which would spend its funds on fancy buildings and overpriced textbooks, but not chocolate, which was complete bullshit.
So, the two of you stood over the stove, milk in a saucepan, a small tub of vanilla, salt, half a bag of M&Ms (courtesy of Angus Tully’s payment for waking you up the week before), whipped cream, and a full jar of milk chocolate chips.
“Why are we putting salt into hot chocolate?” He asked as you stirred the milk.
“It enhances the taste, besides, it’s just a pinch. Okay, pour in the chocolate.”
“All of it?”
“No, just…you know, my mom eyeballed it, so just don’t do all of it.”
He nodded, and you moved aside as he poured in half of the jar. You stirred it in as it quickly melted, then poured what you guessed to be a tablespoon of vanilla in. Your stirring was hypnotizing, so of course you zoned out, and didn’t even realize it until Angus brushed your bare arm.
You jumped, gaze immediately snapping to him. “What?”
He gave you a look; not one of annoyance like you expected. Well, there was a hint of that, but you quickly found out it was to mask concern. “I asked you what you thought of the party before Mary.”
“Oh…” you blinked. “Yeah, it was nice.”
Angus nodded. “You ran off at one point, what happened?”
“Bathroom; girl stuff.” You hoped that was enough to throw him off your trail, which it was.
He visibly tensed. “Oh…”
“Yeah.” you dropped your gaze back to the hot chocolate.
The only sound was the whisk hitting the saucepan as you stirred, then pulled it out to let it sit.
“So uh, is that why you’ve been acting weird this whole day?”
You slammed the whisk on the counter. “How fucking dare you!”
He flinched. “What?!”
“Is pissing blood the only good reason why I’d be like this?”
“Well, if I was, I’d be a bit impatient too.”
“You-,” you laughed, exasperated. “you’re a piece of shit.”
He clenched his jaw. “So then why are you upset?”
Avoiding his gaze, you mustered up the only other truth you could tell him. “I can’t find one of my books.”
Angus scoffed. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” You gritted your teeth. “My dad read it to me all the time as a kid, and I couldn’t find it when packing last week, so I’ve just been-.”
“-Bullshit, it can’t be that good of a book.”
“Fuck you, it’s The Little Prince!”
“Look,” He hardened his tone. “I’m not buying it. And if it’s not you being a girl that apparently makes you hate me so much today, or really any day of the week, than what is it?”
The egg timer went off with a loud ringing. You quickly shut it off, having to stop yourself from slamming it back on the counter. You took the oven mitts and opened the oven, reaching in for one of the baking sheets.
After placing down that one, you turned to get the other only to see that Angus, with a washcloth in his hand, held the other. He placed the sheet down by yours.
Throwing the oven mitts off, you sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. Once you found an ounce of calmness, you said. “I know you told my dad.”
You didn’t even say what he told him, he already knew. His face fell, and it was the first time you wished it didn’t. You wished he denied it, got angry at you, hell, blame you for it somehow like so many other boys could have.
But he didn’t…he was ashamed.
Angus tucked his hands into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “I…I was worried about you.”
Your heart stammered. “Why?”
“It…” he was confused. “What do you mean ‘why’? Some guy who your family isn’t friends with anymore was telling you to take pictures of yourself-.”
“-That’s none of your business.”
“It was for a while; not now, but that’s why I told your dad.”
You swallowed thickly, the emotion of the party, missing Curtis, and now threatening to fully break you. You shook your head. “I’m not angry at you; I’m…sorry I treated you weirdly, but…I don’t know.”
He took a deep breath. “I get it.”
You were both left in silence once again. You took a spoon out of one of the drawers, preparing yourself to taste test it. Then, to fill the empty air, you asked the only thing on your mind.
“So…Elise.”
He looked at you, then down at the counter. “What about her?”
“She’s sweet.”
“Yeah…yeah, she’s nice.”
“So,” you dragged out the ‘O’, almost having fun with teasing him about a girl as if you didn’t know how he felt about you. “do you like her?”
He furrowed his brow. “What, like, like like her?”
Giggling, you said. “Well yeah, you immature asshole.”
“I’m not immature.” He fired back, trying to hide his smile.
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
“And for the record, no, I don’t like her like that.”
You nodded. “Not even when she kissed you?”
His lips thinned into a line, and you never saw a man look more uncomfortable from your own doing (besides when you alluded to him not being able to pleasure a woman only yesterday when he dislocated his arm). “Yeah, even when she kissed me.”
You smiled even though you felt strange. You took the spoon and dipped it into the hot chocolate. “Was that your first?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t know what’s the matter with you.” You teased, bringing the spoon up to your lips. “You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you realized a pretty girl kissed you.”
“What if I wished it was you?”
You brought the spoon away from your lips instantly; both from how hot it was, and from what he had just admitted.
Immediately, he realized what he said, and stumbled over his words. “I-I uh, shit I didn’t-.”
“-Hot.” You interrupted, your mouth burning. “Yeah, yeah, it’s hot.”
“Oh.” He jumped back. “Uh, do you need water or-?”
“-No, no, I’m fine.” An idea (a horrid and dreadful one) came to mind when you turned off the stove and took the sauce pan off the burner. “Um…do you want to taste it?”
Angus nodded, wanting to do anything but acknowledge what just happened. “Yeah, yeah sure.”
He turned to grab a spare spoon off the counter behind him, but you took his face into your hands and brought your lips to his.
There was a delay in his reaction, but soon, his arms wrapped around you, and he pulled you in impossibly closer. Even if it technically wasn’t either of your first kiss, you acted as if it was; well…perhaps it actually was, at least a real one. It was sloppy, there wasn’t a rhythm (you didn’t even know you needed one to properly kiss apparently), and you were torn between keeping your hands on his face or trailing them through his hair.
Which is why you pulled away as soon as you felt it started. Angus, still with his eyes closed, leaned back into you at the loss, but soon snapped out of it once you backed away, catching your breath.
“Are…” he was catching his too. “are you okay?”
“What?” You asked, almost out of it. “Yeah just, needed to breathe.”
“Yeah-yeah, me too.”
It should’ve been uncomfortable; the most uncomfortable you’ve felt the whole night…but then, after you both could breathe normally, and looked at each other, you started laughing.
“How-how was it?” He asked in between snickers.
Your face hurt from smiling. “My lips are burning.”
“Really?”
“I mean, from the hot chocolate but-.”
“-You’re mean.” He shoved you playfully.
You scoffed. “And you’re just a baby. So, how’d it taste?”
His teasing halted. “…What?”
“The hot chocolate.” You asked innocently. “Did it taste good?”
Still being thrown through a loop, he took a longer time to respond before quite literally shaking himself out of it. “Uh, yeah-yeah. I uh-don’t add anything, it’s good.”
“Nice. Hand me some mugs, top shelf to the right.”
He followed without complaint, and you served up the hot chocolate, then drowning both of them in whipped cream before crushing up the M&Ms and sprinkling them on top.
The cookies were cooled by then, so you shared them as well while drinking your hot chocolate. Just as you spoke with the little girls at your table, you spoke about things that, to anyone else, would be meaningless; stories from childhood, school, books, the list went on. Still, for the first time in many days…it felt like there was no tension of any kind between you.
When all was said and done, you cleaned your dishes, then set out cookies and milk.
“For Santa?” He asked.
“Who else?” You questioned.
And this was when you knew Angus Tully was a good person. Despite the opening for overbearing teasing, and how you wouldn’t have minded it at all, he didn’t do anything of the sort. He simply smiled.
The two of you walked hand in hand back to the infirmary, taking extra care to be quiet. When you were in the doorway of your room, you turned to Angus.
“Merry Christmas.” You grinned, feeling your heart do somersaults the way he looked at you.
“Merry Christmas.” He said back, smiling as he cupped your face and kissed your cheek so tenderly.
Your face could’ve lit up the room once he pulled away you were smiling so much. You both uttered another ‘goodnight’ to each other and made your way to your beds.
You didn’t sleep much that night, but instead of it being from grief, it was from excitement. Excitement of finally letting something good happen to you.
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