#personal favourite so far is all the little ways scrooge is clearly so much more miserable than everyone else

[mariniacipher]

Hii! Could you guide me to A Dickens December?

yeah, no prob!

here’s the link to the substack- it’s a really fun time, it’ll be a few pages a day everyday until the 26 (i think)!

so catching up now should still be super easy, and i will say that dickens’ style is v compelling to read!

[adamarinayu]

Now that we're on this hiatus, do you mind telling us what you thought of each episode?

Okay, I know I’m super late to answer this but here I am! I’m not gonna go too in depth on them, but I do want to talk about them.

Treasure of the Found Lamp!

This one was amusing, and I absolutely love what they did with Djinn. I’m so so so glad they changed his name, too, as “Dijon” always bothered me, even as a kid. Also, the story of the lamp was very heartwarming! And seeing Selene again was fun, especially as she had to run around and we find out she’s a terrible liar lol (so she definitely had nothing to do with Della’s disappearance, I think we can all finally put that theory to rest).

The wild goose chase aspect was funny, coming from both sides, and I still think the actress on Ma Beagle’s TV looked vaguely like a character from PKNA so. But Djinn did not pull punches and them Beagles at least got hurt XD

Also. It kinda has a “the greatest treasure is family” vibe to it.

The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!

As someone who loves Scrooge and loves Goldie, but is indifferent to Scroldie… I still loved this episode. It was great! It was also absolutely hilarious. And Gyro’s time traveling was amazing. Especially Scrooge’s sudden moment of realization when Gyro returned lol.

Louie’s gonna befriend Goldie! That makes me excited. I bet they’re gonna teach each other things that we haven’t even thought of (ie Louie values his family, while Goldie doesn’t even have a family. Maybe Goldie will officially join the Duck-McDuck family not through her strange but obviously antagonistically-romantic relationship with Scrooge, but through her friendship with and tutelage of Louie? Maybe he’s the one who shows her the importance of family and offers her a place in their family… it doesn’t mean giving up adventure, it just means always having somewhere she can call home, and people she can trust and rely on!).

I’m iffy about Jeeves’ redesign, and also his somewhat betrayal of Rockerduck, but I’ve never been like a hardcore fan of the two of them so it was easy for me to move on. I am curious, though, just how they’re gonna come back… guess Gyro’s not quite done with time travel shenanigans.

The only real gripe I have is Sheriff Marshal Cabrera. DON’T GET ME WRONG, I absolutely loved him. He’s a beautiful babby boy. But at the same time, he’s literally just. Fenton. I know he’s like. Fenton’s great grandfather (or maybe uncle, idk) or something. There should absolutely be similarities yes, but it felt like someone had taken the characters and placed them in an old west setting. That being said, I do love him, I just wish he’d been slightly more his own character. Like, maybe a little more like a mix of M’Ma and Fenton! Idk.

The 87 Cent Solution!

…….. You really want to know?

Okay, the episode was good. It was funny, and I enjoyed seeing Glomgold’s timestop shenanigans.

But the funeral scene? That wasn’t cool. I saw the “not really dead” twist coming, I think we all did, but no one thought to tell Donald? Donald thought that, so soon after finally making amends with his uncle, he had lost him for good.

And I get it. It’s meant to be a gag. It’s supposed to be funny. But it kinda really soured the rest of the episode for me. I hate to say that too, because it was a good and funny episode… I just… I can’t believe they did that to Donald. :(

The Golden Spear!

AGONY. Agony is how I feel about this one. Della made friends with the Lunarians! Actual friends! And then Penny made a bad choice, and Lunaris… damn you, Lunaris, you traitor.

All the things Della listed off, wanting to do with her kids and brother and uncle… they’re things the others have already done without her. That hit me in the feels.

AND THEN DONALD- AGH, I CAN’T EVEN. Poor Donald. He’s so stressed and his family loves him so much and just wanted him to have some peace. But alas, it was not to be. And now the fandom cries.

… Even if he really shouldn’t have climbed into that rocket but y’know. He didn’t MEAN to press buttons….

Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!

Della reunites with her boys and no one realizes Donald is gone. And we see Della trying to be a mom, and kinda failing miserably. But she’s trying, and she’s learning!

ALSO THEIR WOULD-BE NAMES HFBVSHKFCS

It really put to rest one of my biggest fears, that all of the triplets would accept her immediately (Louie showed serious hesitation through the entire episode, definitely coming from his place of insecurity that Dewey and Huey don’t share) and she’d be super-mom. She makes mistakes, and it’s acknowledged that she seems to be trying to be one of them rather than be their mother. It does feel awkward at times, and alien, like the boys are trying so hard to think she’s doing great when she’s really causing harm, but in the end when it comes down to it she’d do anything to protect them, and gives them the choice of letting her into their life. She doesn’t try and force her way in (as she kinda did at first, but came to realize this isn’t easy for them either).

Right now she feels kinda more like a cool aunt than a mom, but she’ll learn.

Raiders of the Doomsday Vault!

IS LUDWIG’S CONSCIOUS TRAPPED IN THE VAULT?! HE REACTED TO AND INTERACTED WITH THE PEOPLE OUTSIDE.

Anyway Scrooge and Glomgold’s parts were absolutely A+ hilarious. Della and Dewey bonding, they’re so much alike, but we see Dewey’s insecurity flare up- how he wants to impress Della, feeling like he has to earn her love. Even though she’s already loved them for ten years, even without ever knowing what they looked like.

Della has a moment of realization here, too. She looks down and realizes Dewey is in a dangerous situation. She realizes that Dewey is in danger. She questions if they’re doing something crazy, clearly thinking maybe we shouldn’t be doing this, but when Dewey quotes her “I’m your son, I can do anything!” she instead chooses to encourage him, not wanting to discourage him and possibly cause him to fall.

And then of course, her “exit strategy” thing. I honestly kinda feel like it’s a bit of an ass pull, but it at least makes a little sense. When you’re being hunted by a monster on the moon, you always want to have an escape route planned. Scrooge sees that, even if she’s the same ol’ Della she was before, she’s still changed. Ten years still changes you.

Friendship Hates Magic!

New Girl! New Girl! Violet’s pretty cool. At first she comes off as one of those “um, actually” people, but since I’m one of those “um, actually” people it’s pretty whatever to me lol. And Lena’s back! I’m super excited about that.

Lena gets a little jealous-possessive but who can blame her, Webby’s one of the few people who have always believed in her. And Webby spent so much time we never knew about trying to find ways to bring Lena back, to the point that it’s like clockwork.

The whole “being tormented by her own mind” thing was actually frightening in a way, and I’m just glad it all turned out alright. And now Webby isn’t just a fourth triplet, she’s the central member of her own trio. It’s great!

The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!

Admittedly another plotline to be seen from far away. A good episode full of secondhand embarrassment, but dang Huey’s LUNGS.

I love Gandra’s design and personality. It’s pretty durn great. I love it! I just have one gripe. Warning, this is a bit of a rant.

Why can’t we let characters be feminine? By this I mean traditionally feminine. Dresses, makeup, shopping, high heels, giggling, soft and compassion and gentle and things I’m not, pinks and lilacs, etc. Yes, Webby’s favourite colour is pink and she likes glitter and wears skirts, she is pretty feminine. But she’s the only one, besides Roxanne Featherby (Featherly? I don’t remember, and that’s only arguably because of her clothes), to be even slightly feminine, and even then it can be argued she’s not all that traditionally feminine because, well… she’s the bruiser of the group. Which there’s absolutely nothing wrong with! A feminine bruiser absolutely works, and I love it, but looking at it from certain angles…

Most of the (non-villain) females, besides Webby, show next to no traditionally feminine qualities- Goldie is the closest, when she dresses up for special events or for schemes. Which I don’t mind, per se, I don’t have many traditionally feminine qualities either, but you’d think at least a few would. The original Gandra Dee, who I am glad they changed mind you, was very feminine; she wore her hair long, wore dresses, enjoyed makeup and manicures, etc. She was traditionally feminine, AND smart. (even if I never liked how they drew her face (the eyes and beak look weird imho, DT17 pulled it off better), and I felt like she left much to be desired *cough*…)

There is nothing wrong with having traditionally feminine characters. There is nothing wrong with having characters who enjoy dressing up, or putting on makeup, or shopping, etc. The problem with traditionally feminine characters comes in when it’s done for sex appeal, or you have a woman running from dinosaurs in 6 inch heels (yeah I’m calling that out) or there’s a feminine character there only to be dragged on by the others for their feminine characteristics.

Anyway, rant about that over. I still love what they did with Gandra, but I’m just noticing this trend where female characters aren’t being allowed to like traditionally feminine things. Yeah, there are absolutely a lot of girls who don’t, but there’s probably an equal amount who do! And there’s nothing wrong with showing a competent, traditionally feminine character. :/

The Duck Knight Returns!

DARKWING DUCK DARKWING DUCK DARKWING DUCK NEGADUCK AAAAAAAA

Need I say more?

Okay, Launchpad is a sweetheart and let’s be honest, we knew the moment we saw him that the other guy at the signing was Drake Mallard.

I love that they kept the “Darkwing Duck inspires Drake Mallard to become Darkwing Duck” aspect of DW’s origin story, while twisting it around so that time travel and paradoxes don’t occur. Also! We still get Jim Cummings as Negaduck, while also getting a new VA for Drake Mallard/Darkwing Duck- someone who does a pretty good job at sounding like them, too. So now Negaduck, who is no longer Darkwing/Drake Mallard from an alternate universe, has his own distinguishable voice!

… And I still think Negs is gonna have an unhealthy obsession with Launchpad, thanks to the “my fan” comment. I figure that’s how we’ll get Nega Launchpad, but who knows! There’s so many possibilities!

Anyway Gosalyn, yesterday please. Gimme.

[whitewolfbumble]

The Avengers Haunted House

Summary: Loki was looking for a way closer to you. Nothing like a little haunted house (with some extra magic touches added) to scare you right into his arms.

Request: Hiii, well I was thinking about request with bucky/reader or loki/reader with a halloween theme(hope it's not too soon 😂). It doesn't matter which pairing you choose it's just I would like to read something funny and fluffy or angsty (your choice). From @marveloustrashpanda!

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Some Halloween fluff, a tiny tinge of pining and lust, & some spooks thrown in!

Word Count: About 5k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! My treat to you is a lil Halloween fic while Loki is bringing the tricks here, so hunker down with some candy and enjoy a short read! Thanks to @marveloustrashpanda for the request!! Love you babe and hope you enjoy!! This was written & posted quickly so I apologize for the typos!

MY MASTERLIST // SEND ME A REQUEST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

You were pressed completely flushed against him, barely able to even breathe much less move under him. The cold wall at your back gave you no opportunity to move away. His warm body was lined up with yours, the force of it just on the right side of bearable.

“I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea,” you mumbled half-heartedly into his shoulder, not in any way sure if the butterflies and stomach turning was from sheer panic or having the Asgardian so skin-warmingly close.

A soft, low chuckle breathed down your ear and neck, Loki’s head leaned down and lips brushed your cheek.

“Yes, my little mortal,” he whispered, chest moving with yours, hands and arms circling you tightly. “I think you bit off far more than you can chew with this one.”

October 29th: Two Days Earlier

To say the Avengers were competitive wouldn’t have been a shock to anyone. You can’t grit and grind to the end of a brutal battle without the deep rooted need to win inside you. And the Avengers all had it. That need to surpass and overcome and above all win no matter what the odds or what the cost? Yeah, that was in no short supply on the team.

Unfortunately when there wasn’t a big bad to go after, that shared competitive spirit often led to interesting discourses and sometimes quite the intense challenges.

“It was by far the scariest costume of the party, I swear.” Clint said, crossing his heart. He was sitting up on the counter, back against the fridge and feet dangling into the sink (much to everyone's resigned displeasure).

“Please,” commented Natasha, used to this kind of confident talk and never letting it just slide. Not with Clint anyways. “I was there, and it was not. How is “The Blob” of all things in anyway scary? People thought you were a potato, Clint.”

The group gather in the lounge of the compound chuckled and smiled, all throwing looks each other. It was quite the amount of commotion, considering there were no missions happening and nothing on the radar either, meaning just about everyone on the team was hanging around. 

You were there sitting comfortably on the couch with Steve and Tony, Clint and Nat were at the bar, with Sam and Thor to one side and Loki leaning against the wall behind you. Save a few members, the whole gang was mostly here and restlessly idle.

“Listen, it was terrifying and you know it, Nat.” Clint said, pointing back at her once the chuckles died down.

“Well, no it wasn’t. What was scary was the house.” Nat said. “It was completely decked out. Looked amazing. It had nothing on the other haunted houses I’ve been in... Or HYDRA crack dens either.”

“I could do it better.” Clint whispered in a sing-song kind of way, looking down at his fingernails.

“Guaranteed I could make a far more scary haunted house than you, french fry.” Tony piped up, not to be outdone. “And none of that low-tech, fake blood stuff, but actually terrifying. You’d all run out screaming your cute little heads off.”

Soon enough everyone was talking, Nat and Clint throwing remarks back and forth, Tony and Sam jabbing at one another on classic scares verses modern frights, and Thor talking to a rather disgusted looking Steve about what the otherworldly terrors he’s been witness too.

You just sighed and leaned into the couch, throwing a knowing look behind you to the quiet Loki who rolled his eyes a little, small smile on his face. Somehow it always ended up like this, the two of you shaking your heads at the boisterous bunch. But an idea came quickly to mind, as it usually did in times like these, and you figured it would be a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone as it were.

“Alright, alright,” you said, interrupting the cacophony before things got hairy. God, no one here was able to handle a bit of free time, were they. “Let’s settle this than? Halloween is in two days. How about anyone who wants to be titled “The Ultimate Horror Champion” picks a room at the compound here and we put on a real haunted house. After that, the few of us not participating vote on which room was the scariest.”

Bright eyes danced from just about everyone at the idea, a brief moment of silence following as minds began sparking with ideas.

“So... I take it that’s a yes?” you asked.

An immediate eruption of voices rang out, agreements flooding in and dibs on specific rooms sounded off. Some just jumped up and raced out of the room to get started on the first ever Avenger Haunted House.

It had at first been infuriating for him to feel this way for a little thing like you.

For some time behind closed doors he fumed at the thrall you had over him, an angry burn that flooded every inch of his Frost Giant body. But inexplicably that fiery heat melted into a calm, purring warmth in his chest whenever you walked into a room. Your sparkling laugh, your bright eyes, your cunning wit, ability to make peace or war with a few words, heaven-crafted beauty… In all actuality you reminded Loki of him, all those qualities he recognized clearly in his own self.

But your charm and personality wielded a quieter kind of power than his. It was a lighter, delicate, and peaceful type of power. An equal and opposite to his own. Despite you being mortal and possessing none of the seiðr Loki had himself, he was quite under your spell and had been for too long.

Eventually the fiery and stubborn resistance to you when you weren’t around faded, leaving him in a constant state of want when you were gone, and hollow contentment when you were close. Because you were just never close enough.

He wanted to feel your skin to his, your breath on his body, ring out in a laughter and pleasure that was all and only for him. And it was at a point where he just about couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Now, part of his acceptance to the team was an agreement made to drastically reduce any magic and not to interfere with mortals... but that agreement was about to be altered. As soon as you had mentioned this Halloween haunted house game, Loki knew he’d manipulate whatever he could about it to his (and your, he assumed as it would mean being closer to him) benefit. He’d been far too good lately, it was time to break a couple rules...

You threw a bag from the cupboard behind you without looking, the plastic smacking down the counter. Bright little wrappers held mini chocolates, ready to be gobbled down by kids (or the bumbling Hogan, who was determined to sit by the door and wait for the trick-or-treating kids… probably only to avoid the supposed oncoming terror of the competition that night).

It was you and Loki in the kitchen alone, though the buzzing energy of the compound was palpable even here. Everyone was scattered and running around, getting all the last minute details in place for their haunted rooms. It had been two days of secrecy and madness, and no-one was willing to give up a spare second, determined not to lose whatever edge they could have.

“I know there were more in here,” you said, rummaging through the cupboard for more treats, voice muffled as you stuck your head in. “Actually, I did see your brother munching on something that could have been mini chocolate bars… I’ll bet he nipped a bag.”

“He is quite greedy and inconsiderate of children.” Loki agreed lightly, subtly emptying his pockets of wrappers into the trash while you weren’t looking.

“Please,” you laughed. “You and I are complete Scrooges compared to him. Let’s not kid ourselves about that.”

He quirked a brow, leaning against the counter a couple feet away from you. Though you couldn’t see him, he didn’t doubt you knew what question was on his mind.

“Sorry, wrong holiday.” you supplemented, now pulling down a million and one things from the cupboard in your hunt for more candy. “Scrooge is a Christmas thing, I don’t think we got to that story last year.”

“It can’t be any more dull than this holiday.” Loki said, gesturing vaguely to nothing.

“Please, you love it, I know you do.” you said above the shuffling. “Candy? Costumes and masks? Theatrics and over-indulgence? You were made to celebrate this holiday. Happens to be my favourite one too.”

“You mortals make no sense to me,” he said in feigning disapproval.

Well, maybe all mortals save you. You he understood perfectly.

“You know, you were here last year for this,” you pointed out to him, head popping out with a triumphant little smile at the bag of treats in your hand. “None of this is new information.”

“I’m aware,” he said with that mix of dry charm which always managed to pull a smirk and half an eye roll from you. “But I still don’t fully understand the point of people willingly giving out sweets rather than indulge in few harmless tricks instead.”

As you turned around to lean against the counter you saw that nothing about his look said any of his tricks would in fact be harmless. You could practically see the wheels turning on what tricks he would pull on kids and people alike behind those gleaming eyes and that subtly mischievous smile.

“What, you don’t like sweet things?” you said, eyes innocent and wide.

That look and the demure way in which you held yourself made him stop a moment, trying to casually swallow down the heated wanting it brought on. He shrugged a shoulder slightly looking at you head on, determined not to let the sway you held overtake him. It gave him a look of intensity, green eyes set to yours.

“Oh my dear, I love sweet little things.” he said back. He was about to take a step forward to you when Clint came barreling through at top speed in a clamorous sprint.

“I need more buckets! Stat!” he hollered as he ran through the kitchen and out the other side, leaving you and Loki watching him in vague humourous confusion. “Stat means now!”

A snort got caught in your throat at that, just as your phone alarm went off.

Looking up to Loki, your eyes were bright and smirk just as mischievous as his had been a moment ago.

“Time’s up for the team,” you said excitedly. “The witching hour is about to start.”

The deal was- much to Loki’s delight- that everyone would be paired up going into each room, and he knew he would have to find a way to get you as his partner.

Maybe mortals were used to giving treats on Halloween now, but he wasn’t mortal and tricks were far more his style. So that was his plan tonight. Just a couple simple tricks, nothing too intense or scary. But just enough to get you to jump in his arms for protection (which he’d happily oblige you).

So when it came down to begin this game, he was set to coerce, maim, or kill to get you alone with him. It was down to the last four people: Rhodes, Wanda, you and Loki. And before Loki could make a sly suggestion (before going to a bit more of an extreme route), you spoke up.

“Alright,” you said easily, to Wanda and Rhodes. “You guys go ahead, Loki and I will follow after and end out this haunting.”

The two took off eagerly, wanting to see what was in store for them after watching the other pair go in one by one. That left you and Loki along in a bright empty hallway, waiting for your turn. And the beginning to what was going to be a deliciously fun night for Loki.

“You ready?” you said quietly to Loki. “Because if I know these guys, they will try and make us run out of there screaming. Hope you’re made of strong stuff.”

“I’ve battled creatures you couldn’t begin to fathom, darling,” he said with that usual smirk to your half-eye roll. “But I’ll protect you from whatever lurks in there, I promise.”

You didn’t see his smile grow as he turned towards the entrance of the hallway. It was a long stretch that would lead to the other rooms, and the first stop in this haunted house. Loki held out his hand to you and you took it.

“Shall we?”

Windows lined the long stretch of the corridor to your left and all the way down at the end of the hall. The dark rustling trees outside and cold night gave off that feel of unease, with the only minimal light (if you could call it that) from the half moon outside. The rest of the space was pitch black, though you thought you could make out murky shapes in the darkness.

Taking a few slow steps in, the pair of you looked at each other, you giving half a shrug before carrying on down the dark space.

A low growl ran out from the speakers, the familiar static of a recording sounding with it. Not terribly scary just yet, despite the near pitch blackness and woods outside.

“I guess we’re starting off with werewolves,” you said to yourself.

Just down the hall you saw several pairs of eyes flash to life all at once, like little painted light bulbs. It was decidedly simple but did look a little eerie in the dark.

Loki took step just behind you, eyes on you as he breathed something in existence that was certainly not of Earth.

A moment later, you stopped in your tracks, confused. Instead of the yellowish eyes in the dark, suddenly red ones appeared. Big, gleaming eyes in the blackness like blood painted rubies shone back to you from the end of the hall. And they looked like they were moving closer. And closer… And closer...

The speakers cut out with a catch, but the growling didn’t stop. In fact, it only got louder, more feral, and dripping with predatory aggression. Your head snapped around behind you as you heard more growls in the dark, surrounding you both from either end. Red eyes watched and slowly moved in on you, only a shadowy outline of a hulking, crawling frame accompanying them. And those hungry eyes were fixed on you.

Okay, now you were a touch scared.

“Loki…” you whispered, voice tight with fear. You closed ranks, moving behind the Asgardian as you two stepped back to the window.

Loki wrapped his arms gently around to the small of your back, feeling you breathing increase and heart pound a bit in your chest against his back. You had a beautiful heat coming off of you, causing a tingle to cascade through his always cool skin.

“How are they doing this exactly?” he asked, keeping all amusement out of his voice and a tinge of apprehension there instead, needing to draw out this rouse as long as possible.

“I… I don’t know.” you whispered, eyes darting to either side of you, watching the red eyes get closer.

“Shall I take them, or will you?” Loki asked turning around a bit and unable to hide just a little humour there.

“Ha, ha,” you said back, giving him a light kick to the shins. “Like you could either keep me away from a fight or make me do all the work. Whatever this is, we’re doing it together obviously.”

With a bit of a gulp you stepped out from behind Loki, hand connecting and lingering with his as you moved slowly towards one end of the hall, and Loki the other.

“Listen,” you said tersely to the creature in front of you, jaw clenched. “If you’re Steve in a wolf costume, know that I’m coming at you. Like really coming at you here. So either drop this or expect a trip to the med bay, Rogers.”

But if there was a person in a costume, they made no indication.

Its deep growl became so low that it almost passed into an octave that you couldn’t hear, and its huge shadowy frame began to shift down closer to the ground. Just as it was preparing to pounce, so were you.

The moment it sprung up all chaos was let loose, ear shattering barks and claws scraping against tiles, flashes of dark shadows, blood red eyes, and snapping white teeth in the dark.

You dodged the initial strike, swiftly moving to the side by the skin of your teeth and gripping on the rough fur as it flew to where you stood just a second ago. You held on and used the momentum to throw yourself up onto the huge hunched back of whatever the hell this thing was, the jutting vertebrates digging into you.

Instantly the thing started freaking out, bucking and throwing its snapping teeth back to try and get at you, snarling and furious. In the darkness you locked the monster into a headlock, try to constrict its airways and knock this thing out.

“Jump!” came a voice, knocking the focus out of you and kicking in your reflexes. Instantly you complied, leaping off the creature and crashed to the ground. Just in time for a second beast to go hurling full speed at the thing, sending them both tumbling violently down the hall in a heap.

Hands were on you, lifting you up and carrying you down the hall in the second. As the creatures shook their heads dazed and struggled in the pile of limbs to stand, you and Loki raced by. You crashed through the door to the lit hallway, Loki setting you against the wall quickly before closing and securing the door behind you in a fevered rush.

The moment you were out and free from those things, you were leaned against the wall, hands on your knees, puffing and shaking your head.

“Okay… that may be the first one but that is the one to beat!” you said, straightening a bit and running and hand through your hair.

Loki was up to you in a moment, hands place on your waist and cupping your cheek, his expression concerned and caring.

“Are you alright?” he whispered to you, an innocent concern in his forest green eyes.

You closed your eyes and leaned your face into his hands. The feeling of it sent a bolt of addicting electricity straight through him. Touching you was an intoxication, but having you seek it out? Indescribably exquisite. His cool hand practically burned in the best possibly heat he’d felt.

“Yeah,” you said clearing your throat and straightening up, pulling away from his hand and breaking that electric connection with a snap. “Yeah, that was just… unexpected, I guess.”

Gently Loki tucked your loose hair delicately behind your ear, savouring the feel of you as much as he could and finding himself quite unable to stop touching you.

“They certainly can’t get any worse than that now, can they,” he said warmly, leaning in perhaps a little too much. “To the next?”

The next room was the large boardroom built to host quite a number of people, and much to your delight it was a great deal brighter than the last dark corridor. Also, it had no large dark beasts in it, so that was already a plus.

If the last one was like meeting wolves on a dark dangerous road, this room was like a jello factory exploded and left this room filled with the jiggly, colourful mess.

Big globs of slime were on the tables and chairs, dripping down the wall and ceiling, squelching on the floor as you stepped into the room. It made the room glow in a practically neon way.

You smacked a hand to your face, grin creeping out.

“Guess what this is,” you said, turning to Loki before raising your hands and wiggling your fingers spookily. “The Blob!”

You turned around to look at the complete goopy mess this place was, hand on your hip as you wandered in.

“Clint is going to have an awful time cleaning this up. Yeesh,” you said, picking up a fistful of the wet squishy stuff from the table. “This is just weirdly gross. I hope this isn’t some weird fetish of his…”

“Uh, Y/N?” Loki said. When you turned he was pointing up to a vent just on the wall beside you.

Forcing its way slowly through was more of that blob stuff, pushing through the grates of the vents and moving down the wall with seemingly more purporse than jello should.

“He put it in the vents?! Damn it, Clint.” you mumbled. But that wasn’t the worst of it you soon noticed.

It start coming out from under the door you just entered from too. Then pouring down from the ceiling light fixtures. You clutched Loki’s wrist as a snapping crack rang out, making you jump. You felt your feet shift, looking down in a bit of shock as the tiles were cracking and pushing up, ooze determined to get through.

Maddenly quick the fast unevening floor pushed and toppled chairs, raising up the table and cracking it in two, splitting the drywall, and coming down in huge chunks with the ceiling.

You decided now was the time to run.

You grabbed Loki’s hand, maybe taking two steps before slipping, jerking him down to the ground right on top of you. He ended up with his face coming down on the back of your neck, luckily able to brace slightly so you weren’t completely crushed under his Asgardian body.

You let out a groan, shifting and shuffling on the soaking ground so you were on your back, facing him with a hand on your forehead, eyes shut against the knock of pain the floor had given you.

Meanwhile Loki was transfixed, his body on top of yours with the lightest of pressure and the heaviest of longing in his chest. With every fast breath he lowered himself a touch more down on you, unable to help the temptation to simply be near and locked to you, to feel that sweet heat you gave off across the whole length of his body.

Loki took a second, risking you question of him not moving or demand he get off, staying on top of you with lips trailing just above your cheek...

When your eyes did open they immediately looked behind Loki, spurring you on to scramble up off the cracking vibrating floor. Loki turned, seeing the ooze coming up like a tidal wave about to crash down on you both.

Immediately (for the second time tonight already) he ripped you up from the ground into his arms, racing for the door. He threw himself against it and kicked it closed just as the slime was about to breach the threshold and drown you both.

The force back his kick made ended up pushing you both to the ground, your legs ending up over his lap, head on his shoulder, and back pinning his arm. Your soaked body was practically clinging to him with the slime. The pair of you took a moment together, breathing at your second narrow escape of the night.

“Just don’t tell Clint I thought this was scary, okay?” you said between breaths.

Loki just nodded as you lay there, you focusing instead on wiping slime from your face and arms though you didn’t move to get off him just yet. Loki practically hummed to himself, relishing the feel of your body and legs draped over him and your wet thigh under his hand. Slime covered or not, your skin still felt as great as he knew it would be.

That was the moment he knew he simply loved Halloween.

The next room was in a small but long lab, mostly used as overflow for any big projects Bruce and Tony were working on in the main lab.

This time when you stepped in, you were already holding Loki’s hand, not taking any chances this time. Just as he was hoping. And if he had anything to do about it, that closeness would only increase with each scare. So cautiously and hand-in-hand, you two entered.

The room was bright white and completely empty. As in there was nothing in it at all. No lab equipment to speak of or tables or chairs or fixtures or even outlets. The ceiling was basically a panel of frosted glass serving as one blinding light, while the floors and walls were the same huge white tiles. Nothing else at all.

“Well, this has a vague asylum feel to it,” you said, trying to rationalize what whoever set this up was going for. “Minus the padded walls.”

“Quite underwhelming,” Loki said, looking around, hand still holding onto yours, doing his best to slow his softly moving fingers against your skin.

“Not for long kids!” said Tony’s voice over the speaker, jolting you right up to Loki’s side.

A thin panel quick came down over the door you entered, preventing any escape for whatever Tony had planned, leaving the only escape at the very far end of the room. A moment later you heard a grinding machinery type noise, followed by some loud whirling. It was instantly accompanied by the walls starting to move in.

“Oh great!” you half shrieked, grabbing Loki and running.

But you only made it a few steps when a terribly loud bang from behind the walls sounded, knocking you both to the side and up against the wall. You immediately stumbled back from it, as now the once slowly moving walls were suddenly moving a mile a minute.

“Oh, I regret suggesting this stupid idea!” you yelled into the deafening whirling room, neither of you able to get even footing as you were forced back. “I regret everything in my life leading up to this moment! I regret Tony Stark ever being born!”

In second your back hit the opposing wall, coming up fast to meet you. You kicked out your legs, trying to keep the other wall from moving anymore and crushing you, but it was no use. A few second later you held your arms out against it, the space shrinking so fast you were practically blinded by panic.

Before the wall could reach you, Loki moved from your side to in front of you, your chest to his, bracing one wall with his forearms and one with his back. But even then it wasn’t enough, Loki having to settle for wrapping his arms around you.

Another loud bang and crack sounded, the walls stopping their movement in a jarring lurch. The whirled stopped suddenly, leaving the two of you positively pinned to each other, the only sound in the sudden silence being the breath passing between you.

“Well, holy shit,” Tony sounded after a few moments. You would have jumped at the sound if you could have moved in any way at all. “No idea what in hell happened, but I am fixing it right now, I swear! Don’t die, okay bye.”

There really was nothing to do but stand. You were pressed completely flushed against Loki, barely able to even breathe much less move under him. The cold wall at your back gave you no opportunity to move away. His warm body was lined up with yours, the force of it just on the right side of bearable.

Your legs were a tangle together, hips pinned to hips, stomach and chest pressed to each other, one of your arms caught between you the other stuck to your side as Loki’s arms wrapped around you.

“I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea,” you mumbled half-heartedly into his shoulder, not in any way sure if the butterflies and stomach turning was from sheer panic or having the Asgardian so skin-warmingly close.

A soft, low chuckle breathed down your ear and neck, Loki’s head leaned down and lips brushing your cheek.

“No, my little mortal,” he whispered, chest moving with yours hand and arms circling you tightly. “I think you bit off far more than you can chew with this one.”

“Can’t believe my first bad idea will actually be the death of me,” you chuckled nervously, trying to ease the palpable tension at the sudden and extreme closeness you had yet to experience with him.

Your teammate and friend he may be, but that hardly meant you found yourself in this type of situation ever. It was making you positively dizzy.

That laughter ended up with the tiniest squeak from you as Loki tried to shift, the smallest amount of additional pressure stifling. You tried to ignore how beautifully nice it was to have a cool body against yours, the heat flooding your system about to do you under.

“Am I hurting you, darling?” he whispered to you in response to your tiny surprised whimper.

“I…” you started, thankful at least you could hide into his shoulder. “I think a little maybe.”

A few beats passed before he spoke, delicately hushed voice in your ear.

“Then it’s time we left, I believe.”

He moved both his body on the front of your and his hands behind you, leaving you pressed and pulled into him. You turned up to Loki quickly, eyes wide and nose brushing his, about to speak before he cut you off.

“If I can get my hands loose,” he started, green eyes completely filling your view. “I’ll push against the wall and we see about breaking free, hmm?”

You swallowed and nodded once, tip of your nose lightly touching his. He held your stare a moment before shifting again, hands eventually pulling free.

Putting them up against the wall with his cheek leaned down to yours, he pushed. The groaning mechanics behind the wall protested, metal screeching and electronics popping out sharp snaps of sound. Loki breathed heavily in your ear, making a show of exerting himself in effort before with a booming crash the wall fell away.

The sudden loss of pressure against your back caused to you to stumble backwards with the wall, almost hitting the floor before cool strong arms caught you, bring you nose to nose with Loki yet again.

He said nothing, just looked at you as you watched him, the smallest and contentest smile on his face.

The next room was… well, different than the others.

The two of you stopped a couple feet in looking around with pulled together brows and similarly confused expressions.

“Is this…” you started, narrowing your eyes. “Did someone recreate Clint’s bedroom?”

There was about a hundred dirty socks, underwear, and old flannel shirts around a lumpy mattress of a bed and scattered across the entire floor. That was pretty much it. It was minimal to say the least.

“I’ll bet you a hundred dollars that Bucky and Sam teamed up to do… this,” you said, pointing out around the room which also included a waste bin in the corner filled with old fruit peels and half-empty milk containers.

“I… have nothing.” Loki said, giving up on what exactly to do with this mess.

“Next?” you said, stepping up to him perhaps closer than you usually did, he thought.

“Please,” Loki said looking to one corner over your shoulder. “Because I do believe they actually put vermin in here.”

You looked over your shoulder to the corner in question, see a bit of movement there too.

“Or the rats just followed the smell from Clint’s actual bedroom…”

Another pitch black room. This time you had wrapped Loki’s arm around your waist and the other went to your hip, pressing fingers and palms into you. Loki was deliciously breathing you in, trying to think of all the delightful ways he could draw his night out. Or perhaps he would just have to resort to scaring you more often?

The thought brought him to an edge, where one side lay the addicting closeness brought on from scaring you, and the other side the soul-warming feeling of protecting you from fear. He wanted the best of both and he’d find a way to get it.

An otherworldly wail built up from the ground in the darkness, and instantly in his arms, you froze.

A whispery white flash moved just out of sight to the your left, and you closed your eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again. Somehow, Loki noticed, you were already more scared than any other room, and he had only barely gotten started. Your skin had turned a bit colder, muscles tight and body stiff, breath shallow and shaky.

Another whip of white to the right and your nails dug into his flesh. Loki loved that feeling, wanting those nail to trance down his bare back…

In full view a devilish looking wraith came flying at the pair of you, shrieking furiously in the darkness.

A blood curdling scream erupted from you, quite unlike the ones you had made previously tonight, instantly turning and clutching into Loki with all the strength you had. You positively buried yourself into Loki’s neck, trying your best it seemed to keep from screaming.

“Loki, I hate ghosts,” you whispered, an octave lower than your usual tone and certainly not at all stable. “I hate them, I’m terrified. Please don’t do this, please just get me out?”

Loki stood there, a little surprised at this. Quick as always he wondered if by your words you knew what game he was playing, or if he had simply taken this too far. He hadn’t know you’d have this reaction though. Instantly he snapped his fingers and the ghosts that had suddenly filled the room left.

Loki lifted you easily, carrying you bridal style through the room and out of it. You didn’t look up, didn’t move from your clutching position in his arms, muscles still tense.

The bright and blissfully normal looking hallway on the other side was filled with Avengers, all trying to figure out what the hell happened tonight and also who had won. From the groups voices and yelling and arguments you heard Thor boom above the rest calling out for Loki in that frustrated motherly way he did, trying to search the crowd and rooms for his brother.

Loki took you down a quiet hall away from the commotion, setting your feet down and leaning you back against the wall. His hands went to your neck, his thumbs pushing your chin up to look at him, his face leaned down barely an inch away from yours.

“The ghosts were a little far, I think,” you said weakly, trying to swallow down some of the fear. What you didn’t do was move away though, sticking close and leaning into his touch. “It may not have taken much, but that was enough of your tricks, I thought.”

“When did you figure it out?” Loki asked, a bit of smug pride that his source of affection and longing saw through the little scheme (yet still let him have his fun, at least until the end).

“The first room, Loki,” you said in an obvious tone with bit of a shaky grin. “Werewolves don’t exist here. Neither does The Blob. And you’re Asgardian by the way, so I don’t doubt if you really wanted out of a room with closing walls you’d just do it and a lot faster. Now, Clint’s dirty gym clothes? That was definitely real and certainly terrifying.”

You chuckled to yourself at your own joke and Loki couldn’t help but watch you, his enjoyment coming from your own.

“Now,” you said, looking a bit more serious. “You’re not usually a jerk… To me anyway. So do you want to tell me what you were trying to do tonight?” You took a deep breath and sighed into him, your body completely flush to his and heavy lidded eyes matching his. “To scare me away, or scare me close?”

“Close, darling,” he whispered, hands moving to pull your lips to his.

Loki leaned in just as you did, closing the infinitesimally small distance together. That electric jolt of pleasure when he touched you was nothing compared to this, his heart and body lighting up like a birth of a new star. Your calming, easy energy shifted to match his fiery one in that moment as your lips moved against his. He was met with a wanting that matched his, a fever that rivalled his own. He was drunk on you in a moment, only retaining the barest of controls as he held your mortal little body under his own.

Pulling away he breathed your air, revelling in it, finally getting what he wanted and knowing he was not about to let it go. That place of longing inside him purred at the connection, deciding to fall on the side of protecting you from fear.

“I should have planned this earlier,” you said, hushed and lids still low with a lingering wanting that Loki was drowning in. “If I had known this was all it would take to get you to kiss me like that.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, unable to help grinning at that gleam in your eyes others often saw in his own eyes. Usually it meant pure mischief in him, but with you, there was an undeniable added hint of kindness. “You purposely wanted me to do all this? To frighten you like this, all for a kiss?”

“Of course,” you said, leaning up to kiss him again gently, lingering there just above his lips. Even that small touch made his breath hold in his chest. “I might be sweet but I have some tricks up my sleeve too. Especially on Halloween.”

A/N: Happiest of Halloweens darlings! This was my first Loki fic so I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought?? A reblog or message would make my day!

Permanent Tags: @dontpanc, @smodvocate, @bunsterjonez, @buckybonky, @marveloustrashpanda, @hangirl93, @captainrogerrsbeard, @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen, @thisgirllikeme, @jjsoccer11, @innerpandablizzard-blog, @fanatic-fanfic, @mdgrdians, @christinky, @universal-death-of-a-fangirl, @cauraphernelia, @ailynalonso15, @cassiopeia-barrow, @1elboomdemsechevarria, @cameronskywalker, @rogrsnbarnes, @verygraphicink, @onlyanothersocialcasualty

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Old Traditions and New

A @rumbellesecretsanta gift for @nerdrumple

Santa: worryinglyinnocent

Prompt: I thought I was alone

Word Count: 6,215

Summary: When his son announces his intentions to spend the holidays with his girlfriend instead of coming home, Lennox Gold thinks that he is destined to spend this Christmas alone. Belle French soon puts paid to that idea.

Rated: G

=====

Old Traditions and New

Belle always knew that the holiday season had properly started by two things. The first was the frost on the tower clock-face in the morning still being there in the evening, showing that the weather had well and truly turned. The second was the appearance of Mr Gold in the library.

That was not to say that Mr Gold was not a regular visitor to the library in his own right. Belle often saw him looking things up in obscure reference books, no doubt seeking out details of the value of or repair methods for some strange new item that had come into his possession at the pawn shop. Nevertheless, at the beginning of December, Mr Gold always came in to borrow one specific book. The Complete Guide to Christmas Baking and Decorating had been checked out by Mr Gold more times than the rest of the library patrons combined, and his borrowing of it was as traditional as Santa Claus and Christmas trees.

When Mr Gold walked into the library on the first Monday of December, Belle knew that the holidays had begun.

“Good morning, Mr Gold! I bet I can guess what you’ve come in for.”

She had surreptitiously sneaked the book off the shelves before she opened the library in anticipation of this very moment. Truth be told, she’d been doing that for the past couple of years now. It seemed sacrilegious to break with such a long-standing tradition and she would have been mortified if Mr Gold had come into the library only for someone to have beaten him to his favourite book. It was unlikely, she’d admit – it was rather an old-fashioned work – but she wasn’t about to take that chance, not when she seemed at times to be the only person in the town with whom Mr Gold actually got along.

He gave a sad smile when he saw her bring the book out from under the issue desk where she had been hiding it, and he shook his head.

“No, not this year, Miss French, although I do thank you for your conscientiousness. We’re having something of a break with tradition this year.”

“Oh.” Belle was slightly taken aback by this. Obviously she knew that some traditions couldn’t last forever, and she knew that Mr Gold’s son was growing up and moving on and was no longer the same little boy that he had been when these traditions had no doubt started.

The thing that perplexed Belle the most, though, was that Mr Gold did not seem to be at all happy about this break with tradition, and she wondered what could have brought on his melancholy mood.

“So, what’s brought about this change?” she asked, hastily stowing the book back under the desk and coming around to speak to him properly. “If you’re looking to try something new, then we have plenty of other books with festive craft ideas.”

Mr Gold shook his head. “No, thank you, Miss French. I don’t think that will be necessary today. You see, Neal’s not coming home for the holidays this year; he’s spending Christmas with his girlfriend and her parents.”

Suddenly, everything fell into place. Christmas had always been a family time for the Golds. Although Belle had not moved to town until after Neal’s mother had left the picture, she knew from gossip that Mrs Gold had left during the holidays, and that was one of the reasons why Mr Gold tended to go overboard when it came to decorations and celebrating, wanting to make up for his mother’s absence.

Now, Neal would not be here for all of their usual traditions.

“No, I was just coming in for the reference section, like usual, Miss French,” Mr Gold said. He shook away the moment of sadness, standing a little straighter and trying to hide his dismay. “I’ve recently come into an exquisite grandfather clock and I really need to find out a little more about the manufacturer.”

Belle just nodded and let him move away into the depths of the library, standing alone in the foyer for a moment before returning to the issue desk and looking at the book she had hidden away for him. She hated to see Mr Gold sad at any time, but especially during the holidays, and she wondered what she could do to help.

X

Sitting in the back room of the pawn shop, Gold sighed as he looked around at the shelves and tables. Despite the room being stuffed to the rafters with things in need of appraising and restoring – some junk, some actually worth hundreds of dollars to the discerning buyer – the place looked spartan in his eyes.

Ever since Neal had been very small, but big enough to understand the concept of Christmas, decorating the house and the shop for the festive season had been one of the highlights of Gold’s year. It was always interesting to see the town’s reactions when they walked into the pawn shop to find it so brightly decorated in honour of the season. His reputation among the residents had always been that of a miserly scrooge, and newcomers were always very confused when, having heard about Mr Gold the Grinch, they saw that he was incredibly enthusiastic about celebrating Christmas.

It wasn’t so much that Gold himself was incredibly enthusiastic about celebrating Christmas. It was more that he enjoyed celebrating with Neal, and he had always gone out of his way to make sure that Neal had the best Christmases that his father could provide. It came back to Neal’s second Christmas, when Milah had walked out. Even though he was still far too young to fully understand what was going on, Neal knew that his mother was no longer there, and Gold had been frantically determined that no matter what, Neal would never grow up associating Christmas, a time for joy and family and togetherness, with the break-up of their family.

Without Neal being there to take part in the traditions, there didn’t seem to be any point to keeping them alive.

Shaking himself out of his melancholy, Gold went over to the corner where the grandfather clock was sitting. His research at the library had told him that it would fetch a good price once he had got its innards cleaned out and working again, and so he sat down to get to work, taking apart the mechanism and polishing up the pendulum in the vain hope that the work would stop him moping about and missing Neal.

He’d always been very close to his son; after all, it had been just the two of them for the majority of Neal’s life, so a deep bond was bound to form. Gold knew that he was going to be lonely when Neal went off to college, but for the first couple of years, at least he’d always known that no matter what else might happen, Neal would be home for Christmas. During his freshman year, Gold had spent hours making the house and shop look extra bright and special, and even Neal, who was used to Gold getting somewhat out of hand when it came to Christmas, had been impressed.

Now though, it was Neal’s last year at college and it was clear that he was moving on with his life. He and Emma had been going steady for over a year now and it made sense that he wanted to spend more time with her. Gold knew that he couldn’t expect Neal to keep coming home for Christmas forever; this was a separation that would come sooner or later, but that didn’t stop him feeling any less bereft at the implications. Their family traditions would soon dwindle away. Whilst it warmed his heart to think that Neal would hopefully soon being making new traditions with a family of his own, Christmas had always been a holiday whereby people felt rather martyred when their own traditions changed, and Gold was no exception.

Still, he supposed that he had better get used to the idea of spending Christmas alone. It wasn’t as if this was going to be a one-off event, more the start of a trend. There was always the hope that once Neal and Emma were established as a couple and had their own family, they might come to him to share Christmas, or he might be invited to spend it with them. He knew that he couldn’t keep Neal to himself forever, and now was as good a time to come to terms with it as any.

Morosely, Gold thought of the unopened bottle of whisky that was waiting for him at home. He’d been saving it for Christmas, but since Christmas wasn’t really going to be happening this year, he might as well break it out now. It would give him something to do whilst he wasn’t decorating the house and the shop. He knew that he shouldn’t be wallowing in self-pity and he knew that Neal would be mad at him if he had known that this was what he intended to do until Twelfth Night, but Neal wasn’t here and wouldn’t be here to judge, so Gold felt justified.

He dragged himself out of his melancholy train of thought when he heard the bell over the shop door jangle. It was late in the afternoon, coming up for closing time. No – he checked the clock – it was already past closing time and he’d been sitting brooding in the back for so long that he had lost track of the hour.

“Mr Gold?”

He was startled back into sharp reality when he heard Miss French’s voice ringing clearly through from the front of the shop, and he stood up so quickly that the chair legs scraped across the floor with an unearthly scream. He had got halfway around the workbench when she peered around the curtain that kept the two rooms separate.

“Oh, hello, Mr Gold. I was locking up the library for the night and I saw that the lights were still on in the shop. You’re not usually here this late and I wanted to make sure that you were all right.”

Gold nodded. “Yes. Yes. I’m all right. Just lost track of the time, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well. That’s all right then.”

There was an awkward silence for a minute, and Miss French shuffled her feet. “I, erm, I guess I had better be going then.”

Gold didn’t reply, because he hadn’t got the first clue what to say. He liked Miss French and very much enjoyed the little conversations they had whenever he went into the library, and he would have been perfectly happy for her to stay in the shop for as long as she liked, but since she had only come on a good Samaritan’s errand, it made no sense to detain her when she had her own life to be attending to.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Miss French,” he said.

She nodded, her manner entirely abstracted, and Gold chanced to look out of the window. A soft dusting of snow was beginning to fall outside. The holiday season had truly begun. With a regretful smile, he remembered just how excited Neal had always been whenever the first snow of the winter had started to come down. Even now that he was grown, Neal still loved the snow. He wondered if it was snowing in Boston.

“The weather’s turning,” he commented as he followed Miss French through to the main shop, intending to leave after her and lock up.

“Yes. Christmas is definitely coming now.” She glanced at him and gave a guilty smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s quite all right. Just because Neal isn’t coming home for Christmas, it doesn’t mean that everyone else has to postpone their own excitement.”

They left the shop, and Gold paused by his car. “Would you allow me to give you a lift home, Miss French?”

“Oh no, that’s really not necessary.”

“Please, I insist. This really isn’t the weather to be walking.”

“It’s all right, Mr Gold. I don’t have to go far.” She indicated the darkened library across the street. “I live in the apartment above the library.”

Of course he knew that. She rented it from him. He’d got so caught up in the spur of the moment that it hadn’t registered. His embarrassment must have shown on his face, for Miss French gave a little giggle and hastily turned away with a cough before she could look at him again.

“Actually, Mr Gold, there is another reason why I came by your shop this evening.” She took a step closer to him, lifting her chin boldly as if she was presenting him with some kind of a challenge, although Gold did not know for the life of him what it could be. “I was wondering, since Neal’s not coming for Christmas this year, would you like to spend the day with me instead?”

“I… Pardon?”

“It’s never nice to spend Christmas on your own,” she continued. “And since you’re not doing anything else, I’d be very happy for you to come and spend Christmas with me.”

Gold wasn’t quite sure why he was panicking. It wasn’t unheard of for people to spend Christmas with each other after all, but for Miss French to be asking him to spend it with her was something unprecedented, and he was beginning to think that he’d actually fallen asleep at the workbench and any minute now, he’d wake up with a crick in his neck to find that this was all a very pleasant dream.

“It’s very kind of you to offer, Miss French, but I would hate to impose. Don’t you have your own plans for the season?”

Belle shook her head with a shrug. “Not really. I usually go over to Granny’s for Christmas dinner with her and Ruby, but they won’t mind if I make other plans. That’s more something that I do because I’ve always done it. I think it’s time for me to make some new Christmas traditions.”

Well, Gold was certainly going to have to start making some new Christmas traditions of his own now that Neal was moving on. In his head, he was mulling over all the possible things that could go wrong with accepting the invitation, all of them boiling down to the fact that Miss French was a very attractive young woman whom he had been very fond of for a long time now, and with Christmas spirits in plentiful flow, he might not be trusted to keep those facts to himself.

All the same, she was looking at him with such earnest expectation, and perhaps a little nervousness and excitement. There was something in her expression that was more than just pity for the lonely old man who had no-one to spend Christmas with because his son had flown the nest and no-one else in the town liked him enough to invite him anywhere.

“Would you truly like me to come?” he asked. He could hardly go when she was just extending the invitation out of sympathy, it would be the cruellest of blows.

Belle nodded emphatically. “Yes. I would love for you to come.”

“In that case, Miss French, I would love to come.”

“Belle.” She smiled, and in that moment it looked she could have illuminated a thousand Christmas trees. “I think that if we’re spending Christmas Day together, we can go onto first name terms.”

“Belle.” He knew her name, of course, but he’d never yet called her by it. Names were powerful, they were indicators of intimacy, and they had to be earned.

Well, Belle had certainly earned his.

“Lennox,” he said softly. “My name is Lennox.”

He didn’t think that it was possible for Belle’s smile to have become any more radiant, but it did.

“Thank you, Lennox.”

There was a pause then, not screamingly awkward but not exactly comfortable either. Their little acquaintance had turned a corner into a proper friendship now, and it was clear that neither of them knew what they ought to say now to mark the occasion.

Eventually Gold gave a little cough.

“Good night, Belle. I’ll see you around.”

“And I’ll certainly see you for Christmas, Lennox. Good night.”

She went up on tiptoe to press a chaste little peck to his cheek before crossing the road to the library again, and for a long time after she had disappeared inside, Gold stayed standing by his car in the gently falling snow, still not quite able to believe what had just happened.

X

It was only once Christmas morning had dawned that Belle began to realise that perhaps inviting Mr Gold – Lennox, his name was Lennox and she couldn’t stop thinking about that name – over for the day was perhaps not quite such a good idea as she had first thought.

It was the first time that Belle had ever hosted Christmas. Granny always made cooking Christmas dinner look so effortless, but that was probably because Belle and Ruby were always a bit worse for wear with mulled wine by the time Granny was cooking, and so they were never paying as much attention as they perhaps should have done and still subconsciously worked on the principle that the food was conjured up by magic somehow.

How Belle wished that she had paid more attention now. She was not the world’s greatest cook at the best of times, but her mother had always assured her that Christmas dinner was one of the easiest meals to prepare. All you had to do was put things in the oven, she had said. There weren’t a lot of complicated recipes and ingredients involved.

Although she had always idolised her mother, Belle was beginning to think that she had lied about Christmas dinner being an easy meal to prepare. She had a turkey in the oven and now she was peeling potatoes, but she had no idea how long she was supposed to cook them for, and the idea of serving Lennox something inedible didn’t really go with what she had said about really wanting him to come over and spend the day with her. People didn’t usually poison guests whom they felt strongly about.

She really did feel strongly about Lennox. In a good way. Saying that she had ulterior motives in inviting him over was probably stretching it a bit, but she did enjoy his company, and she didn’t want to see him sad. It had taken a lot of denial for her to finally admit that her feelings stretched further than simple neighbourly concern and that whilst she really didn’t want him to be lonely, she was also inviting him over because she had a bit of a crush on him.

Looking down at the potatoes, she wondered if life would have been slightly easier if she didn’t have those kinds of feelings towards him. If she wasn’t looking to try and impress him, then things would be different. It wouldn’t matter if the potatoes were underdone or the turkey was overdone, or indeed the other way round, as it was looking like at the moment. She peered into the oven and looked at the turkey critically. If anything, it appeared to be looking even more raw than when it went in, to the point where she checked that she had actually switched the oven on.

Belle threw her hands up in despair, looking at the oven and the mound of still-unpeeled potatoes and then at the door. Lennox was going to be arriving any minute, and he was going to be coming into an unmitigated disaster.

On cue, there was a knock at the door and Belle gave a little groan, resting her head against the fridge. The moment of reckoning was upon her. She checked her reflection in the hall mirror as she went to let in her guest and grimaced on seeing her hair mussed and flyaway where she had been running her hands through it in despair. Her cheeks were also flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and the slightly less than pure thoughts about Lennox that had been running through her mind all morning. She could have looked better, but she definitely could have looked worse as well.

She finger-combed through her hair and gave the apartment a final onceover before opening the door. She hoped she hadn’t gone overboard on the mistletoe. It seemed like the obvious thing to do, and there was a large sprig of it hanging from the light fitting in the middle of the room. Putting some in the doorway would have been a little bit too on the nose, she thought, but you definitely couldn’t miss that large bough. Still, it gave him plenty of space around it to avoid it if he wanted. Belle had to keep reminding herself that there was nothing to be gained from assuming that her feelings were reciprocated. He had seemed very happy to be invited over, but that might just be because he was grateful for any company that he could get in Neal’s absence, not necessarily because she was the specific person who was going to be keeping him company.

“Merry Christmas, Lennox.”

She opened the door wide to let him in and he stamped the snow off his shoes before he came inside, holding out bottle bag and a small, delicately wrapped gift.

“I thought that if I was getting a free meal then the least that I could do would be to provide the wine,” he said. “And this is for you. Merry Christmas, Belle.”

She felt her face redden even further as she took the parcel. “Thank you, but I didn’t get you anything.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

And it didn’t matter; she could tell that from his voice. He just wanted to give her the gift. Belle smiled to herself as she set the bottle on the dining table and began to unfasten the ribbon around the box. The town might say that Lennox Gold was heartless, but Belle thought that she knew better.

Inside the box was a fine gold bracelet chain with a charm in the shape of a rose.

“Oh my… this is truly beautiful, Lennox. You shouldn’t have.”

“It was just something that I found in the shop.” He sounded sheepish, like a bashful schoolboy almost. “I saw it and I thought of you.”

He came over, taking the chain out of the box and unfastening the clasp. “May I?”

Belle nodded mutely, holding out her hand so that he could fasten the bracelet around her wrist. He held her hand up to the light so that she could admire it, and stayed holding on for perhaps a split second too long for natural propriety. They were both looking at each other rather than the jewellery, and Belle wondered if saying something right now would break the spell. Something was hanging in the air between them, and although Belle liked to think that she knew what it was and where it would lead, she didn’t want to presume.

Lennox let go of her hand suddenly, as if sensing the passage of time, and Belle wished that he had kept holding on.

The beeping of the kitchen timer pulled them out of that tense, quiet moment, and she tore herself away from him, rushing into the kitchen to silence the annoying alarm. Unfortunately, now that she was in here, she couldn’t remember what the alarm was supposed to signify. Was it time to baste the turkey, or time to put the potatoes in the oven? She could hardly do that whilst they weren’t peeled, and she gave an exclamation of frustration, wishing that she’d set out a better plan for herself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Lennox had peered around the kitchen doorway and Belle spun on her heel to face him, plastering a bright and false smile on her face. Just a minute ago, she had been incredibly happy, buoyed up on good will and the unexpected gift; now her plans were in danger of falling down around her ears.

“No, no, it’s all right, everything’s under control. You’re a guest, just make yourself at home, nothing I can’t handle.”

He didn’t move, obviously not believing a word of what she was saying, and Belle sighed. Lennox came into the kitchen fully.

“What do you need?” he asked simply.

Belle gave a huff of bitter laughter. “Someone to tell me how to make a proper Christmas dinner,” she muttered, before looking up at him again. “I’m sorry. I invited you over intending for us to have a nice day, and a nice meal, but I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew. Granny always made cooking Christmas dinner look so easy.”

Lennox left the room without another word, and Belle felt her shoulders sag. Admitting that she couldn’t cook probably wasn’t the best of ideas.

A moment later though, he was back, having discarded his jacket somewhere, rolling up his sleeves.

“I’m happy to help,” he said, before repeating: “What do you need?”

Belle gestured at the potatoes. “Potatoes. The turkey’s already in. Oh no, I forgot the chipolatas!” She rushed to the fridge and got out the sausages, and then a light touch on her arm stopped her in her tracks.

“It’ll be all right.” Lennox was smiling, and if he had been anyone else and they had been in any other situation, Belle might have thought that he was making fun of her, but she knew that he wasn’t. He was offering to help her, and she knew that she needed to accept that help.

She nodded. “What do we do next?”

“Heat some oil in a roasting tin for the potatoes.” He went over to the cutting board and picked up the knife, paring the skins off the potatoes with the ease of a master chef who’d been peeling potatoes all his life. “Whilst you’re putting the potato tin in the oven to preheat, baste the turkey to stop it drying out.”

Belle nodded and obeyed his instructions, then set about helping him to prepare the rest of the vegetables.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “When I invited you to come over, I bet you didn’t think that you’d be cooking your own Christmas dinner. It was supposed to be a nice break from tradition for you.”

“It’s still a new tradition,” Lennox said. “I don’t normally cook Christmas dinner above the library. Besides, I like cooking, especially at Christmas time. It’s hardly a chore.” He paused. “Perhaps next year…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, looking away with an embarrassed cough and focussing an inordinate amount of attention onto the potatoes. Belle supplied the rest of the thought in her mind.

Perhaps next year you could cook for me in your salmon pink house…

She gave a secret little smile at the thought, but she kept it to herself, and they continued to work next to each other in companionable silence for the next few minutes until everything was prepared. Even though what they had been doing was comparatively simple cookery, it was still much less nerve-wracking not having to do everything by herself. Lennox poured them both some wine whilst they were waiting for the meal to finish cooking, and she held up her glass.

“A festive toast,” she said. “What shall we toast to?”

Lennox smiled, chinking his glass to hers. “To having company for the holidays.”

“Hear hear.”

This time, when the timer bleeped, Belle knew what it was for, and she looked at Lennox with a giddy grin. The fact that they’d cooked it together made it seem more special somehow. She had been worried that the day would be awkward, that perhaps they did not know each other well enough for her to have made this overture. Now, she knew that she had done the right thing, and without any conscious effort on either of their parts, they were truly comfortable around each other.

Even if nothing else came of the day, she knew that she could be assured of friendship, and she hoped that Lennox was feeling the same way.

X

The food had been excellent; the fact that he had helped to prepare it did not diminish the fact that it was a meal that he had been invited to, that someone had wanted to share with him. It was infinitely better than whatever he would have cooked for himself at home would have been. In fact, helping with the cooking had been good, giving him something to occupy his mind and hands with that was not just thinking about Belle and her possible reasons for inviting him today.

He had not anticipated having a Christmas dinner at all until Belle had extended her offer; it was far too much hassle just for one person. Truth be told, ever since Neal had left for college, Gold had not been the best at cooking for himself. He had not lied to Belle when he said that he enjoyed cooking; but it was more that he enjoyed cooking for other people. There never seemed to be much point in just cooking for himself.

“Thank you for a wonderful dinner,” he said, once they had cleared the dessert plates and were sitting on Belle’s overstuffed sofa, finishing the bottle of wine.

“Thank you for cooking it.” Belle giggled and chinked her glass against his.

“And, erm, thank you for inviting me today. I thought I was alone this Christmas.”

Belle shook her head. “You’ll never have to be alone at Christmas if you don’t want to be. You never have to be alone at any time of year, really.”

The tension that had been there before, when he had given her the bracelet earlier, had returned. It had been nicely absent whilst they had been cooking and eating, as there had been something else to focus on, but now there was only each other. The rest of the world seemed to fall away in that moment, reducing everything to just the two of them sitting on the sofa.

Gold glanced up, looking at the mistletoe hanging above him. He had noticed it when he had first entered the apartment, and he had been thinking about it ever since, wondering at its significance and hoping that he might have the chance to catch Belle under it and steal a peck on her cheek. They were sitting right under it, and Belle must have known that when she’d put it up there in the first place.

He looked over at her to see her pink tongue dart out and run over her lips. She was watching him carefully, her eyes never leaving his, and he chanced to lean in a little closer.

“It is tradition, after all,” he murmured. Belle nodded vigorously, and before Gold could do anything to protest, their mouths had met in a passionate kiss, hands carding into hair and eyes closing. Not that he would have wanted to protest even if he could. It was all happening very quickly, but he would have been lying if he had said he had not been entertaining thoughts of kissing Belle under the mistletoe for a long time.

After what seemed like a lifetime but could only have been a minute, he broke away, and Belle looked up at him through her lashes, bottom lip worrying between her teeth.

“Well, this is one new tradition that I certainly wouldn’t mind having a little more of,” she whispered. Gold nodded his agreement.

“Neither would I.”

Their second kiss was not as frantic as their first. The first time had been sudden, both of them biting the bullet and going for it, not entirely sure that either of their feelings were reciprocated but saying screw it, it’s Christmas, and taking that chance on the festive season. This time, both assured that they were on the same page, they could take their time and truly enjoy the moment. Belle scrambled closer on the sofa, linking her arms around Gold’s neck, and he wrapped his own around her middle, pulling her in against his chest. He had never been gladder to have taken a chance on an invitation.

Before he could kiss her again, however, the moment was interrupted with absolutely impeccable timing by Skype’s annoying ringtone blasting out of his phone, making both of them jump and Gold scrabble around in his pocket to find the offending item.

It was Neal calling.

“Do you mind?” he asked Belle. She shook her head.

“No, you should take it.”

He answered the call and Neal and Emma’s faces filled the screen, squashed in together and waving.

“Hi Dad!”

“Hi Mr G!”

“Hello you two. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Dad.” Neal paused, his brow furrowing. “Where are you? It doesn’t look like you’re at home.”

“Ah, no. I’m actually in Belle’s – Miss French’s – apartment.” He turned the phone so that Neal could see Belle on the sofa beside him, and she waved cheerfully before hiding her face in her hands in embarrassment as he turned the camera away from her. “She invited me over for Christmas dinner.”

He decided not to mention the mistletoe and kissing just yet. Neal was obviously incredibly surprised to find that his father was in company on Christmas day and it wouldn’t do to give the poor boy a heart attack.

“Ok. Well, good for you. We were just calling to see how you were, you know.”

Gold felt a little pang of guilt for not informing Neal of his plans; he had rung expecting to find his father alone, but as it was, he was out on the town having a very good time. He wondered if Neal was put out to find him so seemingly unaffected by his absence.

“Well, we also wanted to get away from my parents trying to rope us into playing Christmas Trivial Pursuit,” Emma added. “I mean, I love them, don’t get me wrong, but they do tend to go a bit overboard at Christmas. It’s their favourite holiday.”

Gold laughed; he had never met Emma’s parents personally but he had heard enough about them to know that she wasn’t exaggerating.

“I guess we should leave you in peace, Dad,” Neal said.

“It’s all right. I should have told you that I had made plans; I hate to think that you were worried about me.”

“Well, I was a little. It’s our first Christmas apart, after all, and I know how much you love your traditions. But I’m very happy that you’ve found someone new to spend Christmas with, just like I have. Who knows? Maybe this time next year all four of us will be at home in Storybrooke.”

“Neal!” Gold exclaimed. Neal gave him a knowing look; if he hadn’t already figured out that his father was embarking on something more than friendship with Belle, then Gold knew that his reaction would have been a dead giveaway.

He glanced over at Belle. Whilst he had been enjoying their kisses so far, they had only been romantically involved to ten minutes, and planning future Christmases was getting very ahead of time.

Belle just shrugged, and the smile she gave him was almost smouldering.

“I wouldn’t be averse to that,” she admitted.

Gold felt his stomach tie itself in knots. He wouldn’t be averse to it either, but it was still far too soon to be admitting such things.

On the other end of the phone in Boston, Neal was just killing himself laughing, and Gold scowled.

“Don’t think that I can’t be mad at you just because you’re in a different state,” he muttered.

“Oh, come on, Dad, I was just teasing. By the time that I get back there, you’ll have forgotten all about this conversation.” He paused. “Honestly though, I’m really happy for you. I think it’s time that we all started with some new traditions.”

Gold nodded. “Yes. Perhaps it is time to move on and ring in the new.”

They continued to talk for another minute, just exchanging pleasantries, and then they said their goodbyes. Gold hastily stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

“I do apologise for that interruption.”

Belle just shuffled closer to him on the sofa, burrowing herself in against his side and draping his arm around her. “That’s all right. I think it’s nice that he was thinking about you even though he wasn’t here, and that he wanted to make sure that you were all right. It shows that your traditions mean a lot to him too, even though you are both going through a process of change. You’re both right, though. Bringing in new traditions isn’t a bad thing.”

Gold leaned in to press a kiss to her glossy brown curls, piled up on top her head to keep them out of the way whilst she had been cooking.

“I think that this tradition is one that we can continue next year,” he said.

Belle smiled. “I’m very glad to hear it.” 

[estrelafics]

A Friendly Face

Fandom: Ducktales (2017) / Zé Carioca Comics

Ship: Fethry x Nestor

Words: 2,470

Summary: When Nestor was invited to a Mickey Mouse’s big Christmas party along with Zé, he thought it would have been more fun. But except for some amazing decorations and a nice Christmas ambience, Nestor’s contentment with the party quickly disappeared.

Notes:

I ended up really liking writing this story and exploring the possible interaction between Fethry and Nestor in the Ducktales (2017) universe.

I hope that you can enjoy reading it! ♥ Have happy Holidays!

Nestor rubbed his arm anxiously, fidgeting in place.

He felt out of place and lonely in a room filled with cheers and laughter.

When he was invited to a Mickey Mouse’s big Christmas party along with Zé, he thought it would have been more fun. He heard many good things about how grand and fantastic this party was…

But except for some amazing decorations and a nice Christmas ambience, Nestor’s contentment with the party quickly disappeared.

The fact that he didn’t have any friends except for Zé made it difficult for him to feel included. José’s friends were very kind of course, but there was so much about them that he didn’t know and it made it difficult for him to follow their conversation.

And since he didn’t know a lot of English too, it was challenging for him to make small talk with other party guests.

So far, he somehow ended up owing Scrooge McDuck five dollars (plus interests), accidentally dropped punch on a lady with an expensive dress and almost immediately crashed into the giant Christmas tree as he tried to run away from said lady.

He was ready to go home now…and not just back to his hotel room, he wanted to go back home. To Brazil. He felt like he overstayed his welcome in America.

“One more day…One more day…” He told himself as a mantra to help him stay calm. Tomorrow, he will leave and go back to Brazil and everything will be better, he comforted himself.

But for now, he needed to leave this crowded place.

Trying to seek some quiet, he ended up sneaking into the kitchen without anyone noticing.

Once he stepped inside, he realised that it was empty and therefore probably off limits to guests. The lights were off, the room being only illuminated by small festive Christmas lights around the countertops. The crow wanted to avoid any trouble, but the silence of the room contrasting the loud atmosphere of the party, was soothing to him and so, decided to stay just for a few minutes.

He promised to get a glass of water and then leave. Nestor wasn’t sure where Zé was, but he thought of sending him a text message to let his friend know that he is leaving and taking a taxi back to the hotel.

Right after finishing typing the text on his cell and hitting the send button, something peculiar caught his attention.

There was a tiny aquarium on the countertop containing what seemed to be one single krill….

Nestor squinted his eyes, he was unsure if he was seeing correctly. The low lighting made it difficult for him to see clearly. After all, why would there be one single krill here of all places.

“Be careful with Sylvia, please! She is pregnant!”

Nestor jumped at the voice. The first thing he noticed was a duck with a red hat who slid right next to him and started to gently caress the aquarium.

“Sorry about that, Sylvia is a little grumpy recently…” The duck explained. “So I thought that bringing her to the party would lighten up her mood…but I think it made her worse.” He now thought, glancing worryingly at the creature, “She is probably missing her friends. Aren’t you sweetie?” He asked the crustacean, gentleness in his voice.

Nestor blinked at the scene. He didn’t understand what was happening and he thought perhaps he shouldn’t ask. Perhaps, he should just leave and pretend that nothing ever happened. But before he was even being able to move, the duck’s attention was on him again.

“Hello there! Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself! My name is Fethry, I am Donald’s favourite cousin!” He took hold of Nestor’s hand and give it a friendly shake. “Happy to meet you! And Happy holidays!”

Nestor was still surprised, but the friendliness of the duck was reassuring to him. He mostly had been ignored for the entire evening and the conversation he had were with polite people feigning interest in him... Fethry was the first stranger here who had been so genuinely sympathetic to him.

He had no heart to just leave now.

“Thank you,” Nestor replied with a small smile. “I am Nestor. Zé’s best friend…Nice to meet you.”

“Zé?” Fethry asked.

“Zé—”He stopped realising that he was confusing the other. “I mean José Carioca...” He then realised that perhaps only few people actually knew José.

And with this realisation, Nestor felt really self-conscious. He was only here because of Zé and if people didn’t know his friend, then he shouldn’t expect someone to know him, or be interested in knowing him, in this case.

The feeling that he did not belong at this party came back.

“N-Nothing…” Nestor moved his arms dismissing his prior conversation. “Have a happy holiday.” He waved at the friendly duck, his way of saying that he was going to leave.

Fethry raised a brow, but a smile was still on his face.

“Are you going to leave already? But you aren’t going to leave like this, are you? It’s very cold outside. They say it’s the beginning of a snow storm!”

Nestor stopped in his track.

“Just my luck.” He groaned. This was another thing that he didn’t appreciate; the cold temperature. The weather changed rapidly here. He should have worn something with more layers or warmer than one sweater to fight against the cold. But before leaving, Zé convinced him that it would be a warm night…Since José knew better about America than him, Nestor had trusted his friend wholeheartedly…And now he regretted it and didn’t know why he even believed José in the first place…

But facing the concerned looks from Fethry, Nestor offered an awkward smile instead of the grimace he wanted to express.

“It’s ok…I will be fine…”

“I think you should stay a while longer until the storm calms down.” Fethry said with honesty. “Oh, Sylvia and I can keep you company in the meantime…and we’ll make hot cocoa!” He rapidly ran toward the upper shelf to get a bag of the product. “It’s been so long since I had some nice hot cocoa!”

Nestor was shocked that the duck just made himself at home and was taking mugs from someone else’s kitchen without hesitating. However, it was true that they were guests…and the host did tell them to act like at home...

Fethry saw that the crow didn’t budge or didn’t seem as excited as he was, then added. “Or maybe if you really must leave, I can knit you some a scarf…” Fethry suggested.

Nestor still had a lot of questions...but decided to stay.

After all, he surely didn’t want to go outside in the cold and he definitely could go for a cup of hot cocoa. Besides, Fethry’s kindness was very welcoming, and he had to admit it was mostly that what mostly convinced him to stay.

After waiting for the water to boil, Fethry offered a mug to Nestor and sat on the floor, back rested against the kitchen counter. Nestor thought it was peculiar, but didn’t complain and did the same. The duck put Sylvia’s aquarium in front of them, giving Nestor a chance to observe the krill, while they enjoyed the comfortable silence between them.

“So...you take care of them?” Nestor finally asked, pointing at the sea creature in the small aquarium.

“Of course. They are my friends! And friends take care of friends!”

Nestor offered a smile. It wasn’t what he meant when he asked this question. He was more wondering how come someone had to take care --or in this case befriend-- a krill. He did heard of eccentric pets in past, and was curious to know the story behind it, but as much as he wanted to, he didn’t further question it.

“My team and I are just that close I suppose,” Fethry responded with a shrug. “But I should have known better than to separate Sylvia from the others.” he reprimanded himself.

“A team?”

Fethry nodded, the worry in his eyes disappeared and it was replaced with excitement.

“Oh yes! There is so much to say about them!” He put his mug on the floor to rummage in his bag and took out his cellphone.

Scooting closer to Nestor, Fethry showed him picture of his team, which were actually pictures of a group of krill...honestly, Nestor didn't even know why he was surprised.

“This is Charles, then you have Cameron, Philippe, Fish Breath, Simone, Virgil, Beverly, Nicholas, Alistair, Benji, Dr. Krill, the ever-feisty Hans. And of course, Sylvia!” Nestor tried to follow as Fethry explained.

“It was before she got pregnant.” The duck specified. His eyes were sparkling as he spoke. “They are all fantastic colleagues and friends. And not featured here is Mitzy! I will take a picture and show her to you next time. Or maybe you will have the occasion to meet her in person? I bet she would love to meet you, she is…”He stopped, his gaze drifted to his mug, then took a quick sip of his almost forgotten cocoa.

“But ...maybe another time…I don’t want to bother you.” He said sheepishly. Sometimes people were not interested in the stuff he loved to ramble about...and he knew that his cousins always said it was ok for him to talk about his interests. But he didn’t want to bore his new friend, especially not at a fun grand party like this one.

“If you want, you can tell more…” Nestor replied, giving him back the picture. “I think it’s interesting.”

And these simple words were all it took for Fethry to beam.

While they finished their hot drinks, Fethry talked and talked of all kinds of stuff.

The conversation obviously started about krill, then one thing lead to another, and he was now reminiscing memories from when he was a kid and from his family. The duck didn’t seem like he was about to stop talking anytime soon. And Nestor tried to listen closely. He didn’t understand some things, but he noticed that Fethry’s gestures helped him understand better sometimes. And it was enough to keep him captivated.

“But enough talking about me and my team…and my family too!” Fethry rummaged through his bag once more and took a red scarf.

He remembered that he said he would knit something for his new friend earlier. But if Nestor needed to leave soon, then he promised to knit a scarf for him next time and give this one to him for now. He had been talking for so long without realising, and he wanted to know more about Nestor before they would part ways.

“What about you, Nestor?”  He offered the crow the scarf and enlaced it over his neck.

“Obrigado...”Nestor murmured, amazed by the generosity of the duck. And he felt so touched by the idea that Fethry remembered his name.

“You are not from around here, right?”

“No. I am from Brazil.” Nestor replied.

“Wow Brazil! You traveled from far away…” Fethry said almost in a dreamy look. “Then, Mitzy and I must visit Brazil one day,” He said with a determined tone as he glanced over at Sylvia. “Maybe I can bring everyone even! After Sylvia will give birth of course! And we will stop by to say ‘hi’ and catch up with our new friend.”

Nestor smiled, blushing into his scarf.

“Then I promise to be the best guide.” Nestor finally replied, already imagining how wonderful it would be to show Fethry around Brazil.

“Well I can’t wait for it then!” Fethry explained, he put an arm around Nestor’s shoulder, bringing him closer. “It will be a fun date!”

A date? It was simply a choice of words, Nestor knew that. But he felt strangely warm at the notion of it.

“Here, I will give you my phone number so we can stay in touch.” Fethry added, snapping Nestor out of his thoughts.

The crow nodded and took his cellphone out of his pocket.

“Oh! Puxa!” Nestor’s worries came back as he noticed his missed notifications on his phone. Zé sent him multiple texts in the past hour, wondering about him and where he was.

“What?”

“My friend is searching for me, he is going to leave… I think I should leave too…” Nestor mentioned, replying to Zé’s most recent text. He was still hoping that he could take a cab with Zé and spare a few bucks.

He looked over at Fethry...now he didn’t want to leave however. He wished he would have met him earlier today at the party, the evening would have been much better.

“Sorry, my friend and I will leave to go back to Brazil tomorrow…” He murmured, a bit sad.

“It’s ok! We can keep in touch!” Fethry reassured, pointing to his cellphone again. “Sylvia and I are happy that we were able to meet you!”

Nestor smiled kindly. “I am happy to meet you and Sylvia too.”

On that note, they rapidly exchanged their numbers and Nestor left to find Zé at the front door.

When Nestor arrived outside, he saw the parrot waiting in the cold, but his friend didn’t seem to be bothered by it, which surprised him.

“Desculpe pela espera!” Nestor said rapidly the second he arrived.

“Nestor! I was searching for you. Onde voce estave? Esta bem?” José asked, a slight tone of worry in his voice, as he saw Nestor seemingly stressed. “Are you feeling better?”

The crow nodded, he did mention earlier via text that he wasn’t feeling well due to anxiety. Funny enough, these feelings left as soon as he met Fethry.

But before he could respond, José noticed the red scarf. “Oh, you didn’t have this before...”

“I met someone in the kitchen. We have been talking since then. He was the one who gave this scarf to me.” Nestor said with a smile, his face started to blush, but didn’t notice it. “It is really soft.”

José chuckled wholeheartedly.

Noticing Nestor raised brow, he explained. “Ha, Nestor, meu amigo! I didn’t think you were one to hook up at a Christmas party!”

Nestor’s face rapidly coloured and his eyes widened. “NÃO! It wasn’t a hook up! We just talked, nothing more!”

“Sure,” José smirked… it was a familiar smirk that meant that he definitely did not believe him. “Come on, let’s not miss our taxi.”

Nestor was about to protest more, but heard a notification sound coming from his cellphone. Taking it, he saw that it he already received a text from Fethry with the simple words ‘See you soon’.

And Nestor smiled, completely forgetting what José said before.

In the end, this party wasn’t entirely bad.