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On Christmas morning, Pike’s morning begins with Scanlan ambushing Pike mid-sleepy shuffle towards the bathroom and dipping her into a kiss with more theatrics than passion.
Percy’s nursing his coffee mug at the kitchen table when she comes downstairs. His eyes are red-rimmed and bleary behind his glasses when he looks up at Pike as she enters the kitchen.
“Good morning, Percy,” Pike says.
“Mmghf,” Percy mumbles. He takes a swig of coffee and tries again. “Morning – Pike. Merry...holidays.” His glasses fog with steam from his mug as he wraps both graphite-smudged hands around it and blinks at her owlishly. There’s a blood blister under his thumbnail.
On her way to the coffee maker, Pike plants a kiss on the crown of his head. He starts upright from where he’s slumped with one chin propped on his hand. “Oh, ah – thank you,” he says, like a complete weirdo . Pike doesn’t think she’s ever been more in love with him.
The wood stove is glowing dully around the seams, the Christmas tree in the corner heaped with strands of multi-colored lights, boughs weighed down with dollar store ornaments. Trinket is lying on his back, paws up in the air, soaking in the warmth in front of the stove. His tail wags when he sees Pike, but he doesn’t bother to get up.
The twins are in a pile on the couch, one dark head at either couch end and their legs tangled somewhere in the middle. One of Vex’s feet is propped on Vax’s shoulder, and she’s wiggling her bare toes against the side of his head. Vax seems mostly content to soak in the warmth of the stove and bat Vex’s foot out of his face when she clips him across the jaw.
“Good morning, Pike darling,” Vex says when she notices Pike in the doorway. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” Pike says, as she settles into her favorite armchair and tucks her fuzzy sock clad feet under her.
Vax wraps his fingers around Vex’s ankle and moves her foot out of his face. “Morning, Pickle. Pretty sure Scanlan taped mistletoe over the showerhead.”
Pike wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”
“You guyyyys!” Keyleth squeals, clattering down the creaky stairs and into the living room. “Merry Christmas!”
She bends to hug Pike, careful not to knock Pike’s coffee, and Pike leans into the embrace as much as she can with her hands folded protectively around her mug. She ends up with her nose buried against the nook of Keyleth’s neck. Her fleece pajamas smell strongly of cedar.
“Good morning, Keyleth,” Percy calls from the kitchen, sounding marginally more conscious.
“Good morning, Percy,” Keyleth calls over her shoulder as she pulls away from Pike. “Merry Christmas!”
Percy mumbles something that sounds like its tail end got drowned in another swig of coffee.
Keyleth pads over and hugs the twins, prompting a light kiss along her jawline and a “Merry Christmas, dear,” from Vex, and a hug and “Merry Christmas, Kiki” from Vax, the effect somewhat ruined by Vex grumbling as she attempts to extricate her foot from where Vax has it pinned against his side.
Keyleth plops down on the shag rug in front of the wood stove. “Wow,” she says. “Christmas.”
They all wait.
“It’s our first Christmas...together,” Keyleth tries again. “It’s, special. Like, we have a house, and a tree, and a dog.” She absently scritches behind Trinket’s ears, prompting a pleased boof from said dog. “It just feels...right, you know? Like coming home.”
“It is home,” Vex says, affectionate. She toes her brother in the sternum and then curls onto her side, tucking a hand under the side of her face, her loose braid falling over her shoulder. Vax tucks his feet between the couch cushion and Vex’s shoulder-blades.
“Good choice?” Vex asks, looking at her brother. He nods, his mouth tilted up at the corner. She tips her head back and squints past Pike. “What about you, Percival? Tired of us yet?” she asks, her words ringing with a faint challenge.
Percy’s standing in the kitchen doorway, still holding his coffee mug, watching the rest of them. The polychromatic reflection of the Christmas tree lights reflects on the lenses of his glasses. “No, never,” he says, folding one arm across his chest and resting his other elbow on it, chin on his fist. “I find you all very entertaining.”
Vax untangles himself from his sister, swinging his legs over her, and stands. “Sarcasm on Christmas morning, Percival, really ?”
Not at all,” Percy says. “It’s endearing.” Vax wraps an arm around Percy’s waist as he walks by and pulls him into a quick kiss. Percy makes a startled noise, and Vex, watching, laughs. When Vax steps back, he squeezes Percy’s shoulder as he heads into the kitchen and jerks a thumb at the spray of mistletoe taped to the doorframe. “You’ve got Scanlan to thank.”
“That mistletoe is a menace,” Percy grumbles, sounding more flustered than irritated, and follows Vax into the kitchen.
The screen door bangs open, and the yellow porch light glints off Grog’s shaven head as he stomps slushy, half-frozen mud off his boots before tromping inside, ducking under the lintel, and kicking them off on the welcome mat. The tips of his ears and nose are faintly bluish. He grins and leans over to kiss Pike on the forehead – something he has to double over to manage – then prowls into the kitchen. A second later Pike hears a high-pitched scream from Vax.
“Ow – fucking, COLD – shit, Grog!” Vax yells, as Grog starts laughing.
Pike frowns and heads into the kitchen to investigate, hands still wrapped around her mug.
Percy’s standing out of arms’ reach, attempting to quietly make himself some toast-and-jam and avoid his rambunctious friends, and Vax is crowded against the kitchen counter, shirt still rucked up over his stomach, attempting to get as far away as possible from Grog’s outstretched hands. If he was a cat, his back would be arched, hackles raised.
He’s backing up too close to a precariously balanced tower of last night’s dishes — with seven people in the house, dishes pile up faster than Pike can convince people to obey the chore wheel — and Pike shrieks, “GROG!”
Grog and Vax both freeze and look at her.
“ Not near the dishrack,” she says sternly.
“Sorry,” Grog says sheepishly. Vax tugs down his shirt with an aggrieved huff, but before he can move out of Grog’s reaching distance, Grog picks him up in a bear hug, massive hands sliding up under his shirt again, squashing him against Grog’s sizable pectoral muscles. Vax lets out a muffled squawk and flails, even as Grog carries him out of the room.
Sighing, Pike deposits her mug in the sink and makes a mental note to commander one of the others for dishwashing duty.
As she enters the living room again, Scanlan cheerfully appears at the top of the stairs, whistling and running something pink and rounded over his stubble covered chin. Pike doesn’t get a chance to catch what it is before Vex shoots bolt upright, squinting, and demands, “Scanlan, are you using my razor again?”
Scanlan starts and hides the razor behind his back. “Nope. Hey, did you guys know there’s mistletoe in the shower?”
Vex growls and pushes off from the couch. “Scanlan, I’m going to kill you.”
Scanlan clears his throat. “Actually I forgot to cut my toenails so I’m just gonna—go do that.” He turns on his heel and bolts up the stairs, followed by Vex, who continues making threats as she follows Scanlan.
Pike sighs. Percy emerges from the kitchen behind her, munching contentedly on his toast. He taps her on the shoulder with the back of his knuckles and offers her a piece of toast, spread with a thin layer of glossy jam. She takes it and bites off a corner, recognizing the taste of the persimmon jam she’d picked up at the farmer’s market last week.
Trinket is excitedly trying to gnaw on Grog’s shin and narrowly avoiding getting kicked in the face by Vax’s bare feet, Keyleth gingerly maneuvers a new log into place in the woodstove, and Grog laughs his head off as Vax struggles against him, the smaller man’s wheezes interrupted with near-laughs despite himself.
“You know, I really cherish these quiet Christmas mornings,” Percy says dryly.
Pike gives him a Look. “Don’t you dare try to slip off to your workshed. It’s too cold out, you still don’t have a decent coat, and you haven’t gotten your present yet.”
Percy raises an eyebrow. “Really. You get me something?”
“Of course I did,” Pike scoffs.
His face lights up a fraction. “Did you buy those parts I put in the Amazon cart last month?”
“Maybe I did. Orrrr maybe I bought you a new coat.” Pike gently jostles his elbow with hers, careful not to knock the toast out of his hand (even though she’d talked Scanlan out of the shag carpeting, cleaning up messes on the floor is still more effort than she wants to put in today). “Either way, you’ll have to stick around to find out.”
Percy looks amused, but his shoulders rise and fall in a miniscule shrug. “Very well.” He leans over and kisses Pike quickly, on the lips, tasting like faintly tart oranges. She smiles into the kiss, knowing that he’d made the persimmon jam toast especially for her.
Vax finally pries his face far enough away from Grog’s chest to start cursing very clearly and very loudly, and Trinket starts barking.
“Merry Christmas, Pike,” Percy says when he pulls back, over the din in rest of the room.
“Merry Christmas!” she shouts back.