Christmas Eve (highly backdated)
Dec. 25th, 2021 09:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsThe street-level gathering of those who chose to take Andre and Steve up on their Christmas Eve invitation... (Backdated)
Despite the near freezing temperatures, Matt leaned against the side of the building wearing just his sweater and button up, coat open. The sky was as clear as New York allowed and the cold air felt good after being in the warm apartment helping get things ready for dinner. Christmas was a time for family and Christmas Day, at least part of it, was usually just for them, but on Christmas Eve anyone and everyone came by whether it be to eat, to chat, to drop things off or simply to be seen. After so many years in New York, Andre and Steve had quite a number of friends and were known for their generosity.
This extended to their adopted sons, now grown, and their friends. So it was no real surprise when Matt announced that two of them were joining them for dinner. This year, to go along with the trends, they had turned their dining room sideboard into a charcuterie buffet worthy of any pinterest board or cruise ship. There would be plenty for all, regardless of diet, preferences or anything else.
"You said Kyle's coming with his girlfriend?" Clint asked, posting up next to Matt where he leaned against the building. "Should be good. Wanda's gonna be here, too. I promised her alcohol and, given the givens, I'm pretty sure she and I aren't gonna be the only people heavily partaking." He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the files he'd read about Essex and what had happened to Laurie in Genosha. The fact that Essex had gotten his claws into Laurie there seemed significant, but Clint wanted to understand the science behind what the other man had been doing.
Not that he really thought it'd help them much with the current situation, but Clint wasn't inclined to entirely write Laurie off. Did she deserve to be punished? Yes, of course, obviously. Especially for what she'd done to Darcy. There was really no forgiving that... but Clint could admit that there was a possibility some kind of extenuating circumstances existed and they couldn't see them from their current vantage.
Matt sighed. The only reason he wasn't getting shit faced was because of mass later. No getting shit faced before Christmas Eve mass. Still being hungover from Saturday night at Sunday morning mass was fine though. Or possibly even still a little drunk from the night before. But not on Christmas. "Yeah. I'm. Wish I could talk to Darcy, but I understand her need to get her head together and figure things out and do it without the circus of the mansion. But I still hate it," he wished he'd been there somehow, had seen, had realized.... but how would he? No one had. Not even those closest to everything. "Don't do anything rash. Or worse. Well meaning."
"Well, I was warned off looking for Collins, so there's that, too," Clint grumbled. He pulled his beanie down over his ears a bit farther. "By the 'boss man,' whoever the fuck that is. Through Tasha, no less. Only my respect for her kept me from asking Doug to give me Collins' last known location in Florida." He could understand Darcy's new team being up in arms, wanting to figure out what the hell had gone down between her and Collins... he could understand them wanting to make Collins pay for fucking with Darcy's head, even. He just didn't like taking orders from people he didn't know and didn't trust.
Sighing, the exhale leaving him hard in a puff of white, Clint shook his head. "Don't like being told I can't look for my people, even if they've been shitty and deserve to have their asses handed to them." And Collins had been one of his people when he'd last been at the mansion. It was amazing, though, how much two years could change a person.
"No one said you had to like it," Matt agreed. He didn't like it. He had no lost love for Laurie, but Darcy and him had been friends. Were still friends. "But I'm sure Kyle will hand your ass to you any time I'm busy," he nodded down the street where he could hear them coming from the direction of the nearest subway.
=
They'd opted for both - wine and baked goods, and Kyle had put his (for once, in boots) foot down - it was cold and wet, so he had the big bag. "I'm just sayin, I think that Santa is either the same dude as the... the guy, with the wind power at the food bank. The guy who collects all the bread?"
"Eustace?" Terry asked, brows rising even as she kept an eye on the sidewalk to make sure she didn't slip on an icy patch. "He's far too thin t'be Father Christmas." She laughed at the thought, though, and then conceded, "He's the beard for it, though."
"Yeah, but like. That guy had a pillow under the Santa suit." He argued lightly. "Anyway if it is Eustace, first of all he should probably hate his folks for that name, second we should see if he's up to doing Santa for some of the DX kids next year."
"Oh, that's a lovely idea," Terry nodded even as she carefully stepped around an icy patch on the sidewalk. "And I think Eustace isn't a terrible name. Though I wouldn't name anything or anyone that..." Glancing up, Terry caught sight of Matt and his brother. She waved a little too enthusiastically, overbalanced with her much smaller bag, and had to hum herself upright again so she didn't fall over on the pavement. "Heavens," she muttered, straightening out her peacoat.
Kyle reached in to help, and had to take a half step back as the noise pushed him away. "God, have I told you how cool your powers are, because dang, that is neat." He had skidded a little on the ice himself, unsteady in shoes. "Guys!" He waved his arm. "Hey, either of you know Eustace at the food bank? Because I am pretty sure he's Santa."
There was no mistaking that hum, even if he hadn't already heard them coming. Waving back, Matt grinned, "Yeah, I know the name. Why'd you think she's Santa?" he asked, curious.
Clint snorted softly and walked toward the arriving pair. He gave the redhead a smile before turning toward Kyle and asking, "Any of that I can lend a hand with?"
"Hell yes." Kyle shoved the bag towards Clint, and then made a grabbing gesture at Terry. "No, you give me the wine, Clinto can carry the other stuff, and then everybody carrying things either doesn't hate shoes, or will heal if they fall on their ass." He paused. "That made more sense in my head. It's icy, you go help Matt, let Clint and me carry stuff."
"I've got the door," Matt called from the building entrance. "So you don't have to get buzzed up or go through the front. Just don't fall this close to the goal!"
Terry smiled at the boys, amused despite herself. She wasn't going to fall, as evidenced by how she hadn't fallen earlier, but if it made them feel better, she wasn't going to argue. Handing over her bag, she looked upward and said, "This is a lovely building. I can't wait t'see the decorations. I've been assured by several people at the mansion that your parents do a wonderful decorating party every year."
Sometimes, attempted chivalry did not work with mutant powers. Or ritualized politeness. Still, they were raised right. "Oh, it's a whole thing," Matt agreed, "Every year has a theme, every year is different and must walk the appropriate line of ostentatious without being tacky and elegant, yet understated," Andre had hired a decorator the first year he had come to live with them to help make everything more inclusive for Matt and it had been a disaster. They'd done it themselves ever since.
"Well, at least I'm not technically the last one." Wanda sounded tired as she rounded the corner, an over the shoulder canvas bag filled with various food items she'd been busy buying on her way to the party. She was smiling though as she approached the group, walking confidently across potential black ice - the boots looked like they wouldn't survive a winter but she'd grown up where winters were harsher and had a keen eye for style that wouldn't snap an ankle. "I promise the charcuterie I've brought is worth me lagging a little." Her smile erased some of the more obvious signs of late work and stress but not all of them.
Clint grinned even as he took the heavier back from the short redhead. "Wanda!" He reached over to take her bag, too, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Glad you could make it. Wasn't sure we'd be able to pull you away. But the dads have a truly excellent sort of... wine... room, I guess. Temperature controlled and everything. They said you can have whatever you like out of there, though Andre's got some suggestions depending on what you want for actual food."
Wanda's face softened slightly as she slipped her arm through Clint's and leaned into his shoulder, letting him - for a moment - support her. "It was a near thing, I'll admit, but you made a good argument. And, well, I simply cannot turn down good food, drink, and company." She looked over at Matt. "Mr. Murdock, everyone, shall we escape this cold?"
Swiping his keycard to open the door, Matt held it open for everyone else. Elsewhere in the city, buildings of this caliber tended to have doormen, but this one did not and Matt was grateful. It had made sneaking out (or in) when he was younger, much easier. "The warmth of good friends and food, and heat, await," he said, ushering them in.
Despite the near freezing temperatures, Matt leaned against the side of the building wearing just his sweater and button up, coat open. The sky was as clear as New York allowed and the cold air felt good after being in the warm apartment helping get things ready for dinner. Christmas was a time for family and Christmas Day, at least part of it, was usually just for them, but on Christmas Eve anyone and everyone came by whether it be to eat, to chat, to drop things off or simply to be seen. After so many years in New York, Andre and Steve had quite a number of friends and were known for their generosity.
This extended to their adopted sons, now grown, and their friends. So it was no real surprise when Matt announced that two of them were joining them for dinner. This year, to go along with the trends, they had turned their dining room sideboard into a charcuterie buffet worthy of any pinterest board or cruise ship. There would be plenty for all, regardless of diet, preferences or anything else.
"You said Kyle's coming with his girlfriend?" Clint asked, posting up next to Matt where he leaned against the building. "Should be good. Wanda's gonna be here, too. I promised her alcohol and, given the givens, I'm pretty sure she and I aren't gonna be the only people heavily partaking." He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the files he'd read about Essex and what had happened to Laurie in Genosha. The fact that Essex had gotten his claws into Laurie there seemed significant, but Clint wanted to understand the science behind what the other man had been doing.
Not that he really thought it'd help them much with the current situation, but Clint wasn't inclined to entirely write Laurie off. Did she deserve to be punished? Yes, of course, obviously. Especially for what she'd done to Darcy. There was really no forgiving that... but Clint could admit that there was a possibility some kind of extenuating circumstances existed and they couldn't see them from their current vantage.
Matt sighed. The only reason he wasn't getting shit faced was because of mass later. No getting shit faced before Christmas Eve mass. Still being hungover from Saturday night at Sunday morning mass was fine though. Or possibly even still a little drunk from the night before. But not on Christmas. "Yeah. I'm. Wish I could talk to Darcy, but I understand her need to get her head together and figure things out and do it without the circus of the mansion. But I still hate it," he wished he'd been there somehow, had seen, had realized.... but how would he? No one had. Not even those closest to everything. "Don't do anything rash. Or worse. Well meaning."
"Well, I was warned off looking for Collins, so there's that, too," Clint grumbled. He pulled his beanie down over his ears a bit farther. "By the 'boss man,' whoever the fuck that is. Through Tasha, no less. Only my respect for her kept me from asking Doug to give me Collins' last known location in Florida." He could understand Darcy's new team being up in arms, wanting to figure out what the hell had gone down between her and Collins... he could understand them wanting to make Collins pay for fucking with Darcy's head, even. He just didn't like taking orders from people he didn't know and didn't trust.
Sighing, the exhale leaving him hard in a puff of white, Clint shook his head. "Don't like being told I can't look for my people, even if they've been shitty and deserve to have their asses handed to them." And Collins had been one of his people when he'd last been at the mansion. It was amazing, though, how much two years could change a person.
"No one said you had to like it," Matt agreed. He didn't like it. He had no lost love for Laurie, but Darcy and him had been friends. Were still friends. "But I'm sure Kyle will hand your ass to you any time I'm busy," he nodded down the street where he could hear them coming from the direction of the nearest subway.
They'd opted for both - wine and baked goods, and Kyle had put his (for once, in boots) foot down - it was cold and wet, so he had the big bag. "I'm just sayin, I think that Santa is either the same dude as the... the guy, with the wind power at the food bank. The guy who collects all the bread?"
"Eustace?" Terry asked, brows rising even as she kept an eye on the sidewalk to make sure she didn't slip on an icy patch. "He's far too thin t'be Father Christmas." She laughed at the thought, though, and then conceded, "He's the beard for it, though."
"Yeah, but like. That guy had a pillow under the Santa suit." He argued lightly. "Anyway if it is Eustace, first of all he should probably hate his folks for that name, second we should see if he's up to doing Santa for some of the DX kids next year."
"Oh, that's a lovely idea," Terry nodded even as she carefully stepped around an icy patch on the sidewalk. "And I think Eustace isn't a terrible name. Though I wouldn't name anything or anyone that..." Glancing up, Terry caught sight of Matt and his brother. She waved a little too enthusiastically, overbalanced with her much smaller bag, and had to hum herself upright again so she didn't fall over on the pavement. "Heavens," she muttered, straightening out her peacoat.
Kyle reached in to help, and had to take a half step back as the noise pushed him away. "God, have I told you how cool your powers are, because dang, that is neat." He had skidded a little on the ice himself, unsteady in shoes. "Guys!" He waved his arm. "Hey, either of you know Eustace at the food bank? Because I am pretty sure he's Santa."
There was no mistaking that hum, even if he hadn't already heard them coming. Waving back, Matt grinned, "Yeah, I know the name. Why'd you think she's Santa?" he asked, curious.
Clint snorted softly and walked toward the arriving pair. He gave the redhead a smile before turning toward Kyle and asking, "Any of that I can lend a hand with?"
"Hell yes." Kyle shoved the bag towards Clint, and then made a grabbing gesture at Terry. "No, you give me the wine, Clinto can carry the other stuff, and then everybody carrying things either doesn't hate shoes, or will heal if they fall on their ass." He paused. "That made more sense in my head. It's icy, you go help Matt, let Clint and me carry stuff."
"I've got the door," Matt called from the building entrance. "So you don't have to get buzzed up or go through the front. Just don't fall this close to the goal!"
Terry smiled at the boys, amused despite herself. She wasn't going to fall, as evidenced by how she hadn't fallen earlier, but if it made them feel better, she wasn't going to argue. Handing over her bag, she looked upward and said, "This is a lovely building. I can't wait t'see the decorations. I've been assured by several people at the mansion that your parents do a wonderful decorating party every year."
Sometimes, attempted chivalry did not work with mutant powers. Or ritualized politeness. Still, they were raised right. "Oh, it's a whole thing," Matt agreed, "Every year has a theme, every year is different and must walk the appropriate line of ostentatious without being tacky and elegant, yet understated," Andre had hired a decorator the first year he had come to live with them to help make everything more inclusive for Matt and it had been a disaster. They'd done it themselves ever since.
"Well, at least I'm not technically the last one." Wanda sounded tired as she rounded the corner, an over the shoulder canvas bag filled with various food items she'd been busy buying on her way to the party. She was smiling though as she approached the group, walking confidently across potential black ice - the boots looked like they wouldn't survive a winter but she'd grown up where winters were harsher and had a keen eye for style that wouldn't snap an ankle. "I promise the charcuterie I've brought is worth me lagging a little." Her smile erased some of the more obvious signs of late work and stress but not all of them.
Clint grinned even as he took the heavier back from the short redhead. "Wanda!" He reached over to take her bag, too, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Glad you could make it. Wasn't sure we'd be able to pull you away. But the dads have a truly excellent sort of... wine... room, I guess. Temperature controlled and everything. They said you can have whatever you like out of there, though Andre's got some suggestions depending on what you want for actual food."
Wanda's face softened slightly as she slipped her arm through Clint's and leaned into his shoulder, letting him - for a moment - support her. "It was a near thing, I'll admit, but you made a good argument. And, well, I simply cannot turn down good food, drink, and company." She looked over at Matt. "Mr. Murdock, everyone, shall we escape this cold?"
Swiping his keycard to open the door, Matt held it open for everyone else. Elsewhere in the city, buildings of this caliber tended to have doormen, but this one did not and Matt was grateful. It had made sneaking out (or in) when he was younger, much easier. "The warmth of good friends and food, and heat, await," he said, ushering them in.
