A Kirkpatrick/Chasez Christmas
A short while ago, while I was on a bit of a writing tear, I finished one story and said to Missy, 'So, what do I write next?' She replied, 'Write TrickC, didn't you hear, their families spent Thanskgiving together.' So, here you have it, a slightly wacky and fun, TrickC Christmas, and it's all Missy's fault. Really.
“Are you nuts? Do you not remember how insane Thanksgiving was?”
JC opened his mouth to answer, but Chris rolled right over him.
“All those people,” Chris’ arms windmilled in the air. “Everywhere. All those kids,” again Chris’ arms flew through the air, “getting into everything. I swear I found pie crumbs in my underwear drawer, JC. My. Underwear. Drawer.”
Several eye rolls later, JC replied, “You loved every minute of the chaos, Kirkpatrick and you know it. You’re just being bitchy because they all want to go out to the L.A. house for Christmas and you want to stay here.”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Chris insisted. “I just don’t want to be picking pie crust crumbs out of my ass every time I put on a new pair of underwear.”
“You can wear a Santa suit and ho, ho, ho, as loud as you want,” JC tempted. “I swear that I won’t say a word.”
“Can I hide in the chimney before the kids come in the room so that they think I really came down the chimney?”
JC sighed, thinking of the pale grey carpeting in his living room. He’d have to make a note to have his cleaning crew give the fireplace a good scrubbing before Christmas Eve. “Sure.”
Chris eyed him suspiciously. “Really.”
“Really, Chris, sheesh. I’m not that freaking anal, am I?”
“Well,” Chris drawled.
“Fine, I’m anal, whatever. Can I call everyone back and tell them it’s a go?”
“Okay, but I’m telling you right now, if I come down with any funky infections because of foreign objects in my underwear, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“That is,” JC stared down at the red blob in the middle of his pristine carpeting. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“Something that can only come out of a five year old with too many Christmas goodies in his stomach,” Chris happily informed him. “Don’t say I didn’t tell you, babe.”
“Shit.”
“Well, you could, but that would only add to the stain. Which, I hate to be the one to tell you, is not going to come out of that carpet.”
“Gee, you don’t say,” JC groaned as he flopped down onto a couch. “Ouch, damn it,” he scowled as he immediately popped back up again. On the once smooth leather cushion there was now a good inch long tear that matched the one in JC’s pants; the only difference being that, JC’s rip had a shiny silver ornament hook hanging out of it.
Chris coughed to hide the laughter dying to get out. “You did want to host Christmas,” he reminded JC, ducking just in time to miss the hook JC threw at him in response.
“Did I ask you?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, you did. As I recall, I asked you if you were nuts, but you were hell bent on having everyone here, so there you go.”
“That’s all your fault,” JC glared at the glob on the carpet. “If you hadn’t scared the hell out of him by jumping out of the chimney, he wouldn’t have gotten scared and that,” JC shivered, “wouldn’t have come out of him.”
Chris shrugged. “It could be worse, he could have peed his pants, too.”
“He did that already,” JC reminded him. “Last night. In bed.” A bed that JC was sure would now never be the same. He added a new mattress to the mental list he was compiling of the things he’d need to replace when the holiday was over.
Chris’ lips twitched, but he managed to reply solemnly enough, “Kids.”
“You know, you could have warned me that having them stay for several days running would be a bit different than having them for a few hours.”
“Yup,” Chris agreed, his eyes twinkling. “I could have.”
Dead on his feet, JC again tried the couch, only this time he gave it a thorough inspection before sitting down. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because, my love, next year when I want to drag you away to some secluded cabin in the woods, you will go more than willingly.”
“Why in God’s name would you want to spend Christmas in the woods instead of with your family?”
“Hmm, well, let me see.” Chris peered into the distance, carefully weighing his options. “Christmas with mysterious red globs on the floor or Christmas with you naked on a bear skin rug? You’re right, I’m crazy.”
JC pulled Chris down onto the couch beside him, and snuggled close. “It’s not too late, you know. We could still make a break for it.”
“Sorry, baby, no can do.” Chris sifted his fingers through JC’s hair. “You made your bed, so to speak, nothing to do but lie in it.”
“Mmm, now there’s an idea.”
Chris squirmed a bit closer as JC’s hand found it’s way under his Santa jacket, then reluctantly, he scooted away. “Ah, about that. The mattress in the guest room where Kate’s two little monsters are sleeping is still wet, so I kind of,” Chris eased off the couch and out of reach, “sort of gavethemourbed.”
“WHAT!”
“Uhm, well, I couldn’t exactly make them sleep on the floor now, could I?”
“Chris,” JC whined. “That’s a feather bed, an imported feather bed. Do you know how much it cost me to get that here?” JC asked, just as a little voice carried down the stairs, ‘Mom, Owen threw up again.’
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” Chris promised, slowly backing away from the slightly manic look in JC’s eye. “Though,” Chris stopped just shy of planting his foot in the mess his nephew had left behind, “having them here was your idea.”
“Well, yeah, but you didn’t try to talk me out of it, did you?”
“JC, baby,” was all Chris got out before his foot hit the slippery mess, shot out from under him and he was flying through the air, screeching, until he hit the floor and his breath flew from his body in one solid, whoosh.
“Oh, man, that is gross.” JC circled Chris, who was now lying smack in the middle of the offending blob.
Chris carefully pulled in air, and then bellowed at the top of his lungs. “I am going to kill my sister. Kill her dead. Do you hear me, Kate?”
The sound of running feet and giggling came from the upper floor, and JC’s lips began to twitch.
“Don’t you dare,” Chris warned. “Don’t you fucking dare laugh, Chasez. I will so kill your ass right along with hers if so much as a snicker passes your lips.”
“I,” JC cleared his throat, because he wasn’t stupid, and there was murder in Chris’ eyes. “I wasn’t going to laugh.”
“Like hell,” Chris growled, and then groaned when he tried to get up. “Shit, my back. Help me up, JC.” Chris held out a hand, one that JC immediately began to back away from.
“Uh, no offense, Chris, but I’m not touching you. Not unless you take off everything that came in contact with that.” JC wrinkled his nose in a manner that Chris might have found sweetly endearing under other circumstances, but that now made him want to twist it off of JC’s face and shove it somewhere that wouldn’t be polite.
“Fuckity, fuck, fuck. FUCK!” Chris growled, before yelling, “Mom!” at the top of his lungs.
Bev came hurrying down the stairs, took one look at Chris spread eagle on the floor and laughingly declared, “Ew.” She looked at JC struggling not to laugh, and then back to Chris who looked ready to commit murder, and offered, “I’ll find Kate and get her down here.”
The sound of her laugher followed her up the stairs.
“Next year,” Chris vowed, as he struggled to get his arms out of the coat sleeves without smearing himself with the mess clinging to it. “That cabin we’re getting. I swear to you, JC, it’s going to be so far in the middle of nowhere that it’ll be doubtful even you and I will be able to find it.”
“Uh, that’ll kind of defeat the purpose, won’t it?” JC asked. “Never mind,” he hastily added, when Chris shot him a glare that would cut through glass.
“Will you help me up now?” Chris asked, the offending coat now spread out behind him.
“Okay,” JC held out a hand. “But I’m not touching anything other than your fingers.” Later, he would recall the evil gleam in Chris’ eye, but then he was too busy trying not to touch anything that looked remotely red. It was only when he was flat on his back, the feel of something squishy oozing under him, when it occurred to him what Chris had done.
“You are so going to pay for this,” he promised, which fazed Chris not a bit.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chris agreed. “Paybacks are a bitch.” And then he smiled like the maniacal elf JC knew him to be, bent down and planted a very wet kiss on JC’s mouth. It was then that Karen happened by and JC knew they were in for it when he heard a familiar sigh.
“Joshua, do you really think it’s appropriate for you and Chris to be making out on the living room floor when you have guests in your house? Guests, some of which, I will remind you, are quite young and impressionable. And you, Christopher,” Karen turned a baleful eye toward the snickering man. “As all of those youngsters are your nephews, I would think you’d be a bit more mindful of their presence.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chris replied, his lips twitching.
Karen threw her hands in the air and turned to her husband when Chris could no longer hold his laughter in.
“Roy,” she ordered her husband. “I am obviously not getting through, you talk to them.” And with that she turned and huffed up the stairs.
“Boys,” Roy shot JC and Chris a look that promised retribution if Karen took her displeasure out on him. “Josh, you,” Roy sighed. “He. The two of you. Oh hell, just – listen to your mother.” And then he too was gone.
“I only have one thing to say about this whole mess,” Chris offered, as the noise level from above grew in volume.
“What?”
Chris rolled his eyes and grinned, “Inlaws.”
Thanks as always to Missy for the beta and this time for being the dealer. My apologies for leaving out the snow and tinsel. ::hugs::