Fic: It's The Most Wonderful Time Of Year Title: It’s the Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
Authors: sevs_lil_secret and unbroken_halo
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is meant.
Summary: Damon and Grant begin decorating for the holidays and Santa comes early.
Warnings: Fluff, Language, Mentions of Domestic Disharmony
AN: Set in the current time frame for Hols.
It‘s The Most Wonderful Time Of Year
Resigned, Damon climbed the stairs and pushed open the attic door. He could hear Grant down in the living room, whistling Christmas carols and wanted to strangle him. It wasn't even Thanksgiving yet and his husband wanted to begin decorating the house. He just knew his ass would be out on the rafters hanging lights in the damned dark and snow.
Thank Merlin it was just the decorations. The tree normally didn't go up until after Thanksgiving and only then because Grant just had to hit the after Thanksgiving sales. Then his beautiful husband, whom he was reminding himself not to maim, would spend two days wrapping and stacking gifts in the corner of the room and Damon was sent to fetch and carry.
Tape, tissue paper, wrapping paper, boxes and tags would litter the floor. It would look like Santa had vomited all over the place. Then the dreaded Christmas tree search would begin. Damon groaned as he pulled the string on the bare bulb and looked at the Christmas decorations, all in neat, colour-coded Rubbermaid totes, carefully labelled in Grant's slanted script. It was an OCD nightmare come to life and Damon shook his head.
Grabbing the first stack of empty totes so his husband could pack away his kaleidoscopes and the other brick-a-brack that had roost in their living room, he headed back down the stairs to Grant and his Swiffer duster and vacuum. Merlin knew the damned house had to be cleaned again before he decorated.
Grant looked up as his husband came back down the stairs, the tune to 'Frosty The Snowman' on his lips and he smiled beatifically at Damon. "Thank you baby. Could you lift the big brass kaleidoscope for me? It's a little heavy and I would hate to drop it," he said as he pointed his duster at the four-foot tall, antique brass and stained glass kaleidoscope that normally sat in the corner of the living room.
It was one of Grant's favourites, but that was where the hand carved reindeer and sleigh would set, one of the small man's wonderful finds while antiquing. The heavy wooden monstrosity was well over a hundred years old and from Germany, Grant had chattered like a rabid chipmunk when he'd found it in one of the little roadside flea markets tucked behind a goat pen.
He quickly finished vacuuming the braided rag rug that covered most of the living room floor, disappointed he'd not been able to talk Damon into helping him drag it outside to be beaten properly. Winding the cord on the Hoover, Grant quickly ran it back into the laundry room and then came back to the living room to press a kiss to his exasperated looking husband's cheek. "I love this time of year."
Damon gave a pained grin to his husband and nodded accepting the kiss with a sigh. "I know you do, baby." He glanced up to make certain his levitating charm was still holding. Yup every piece of furniture, including his sixty-five inch television was stuck to the ceiling just above them. That was the only magic Grant would allow for the cleaning process. He set the totes down on the rug and flicked his wand at the brass sculpture, floating it in front of him as he made his way back up the stairs with it. "What do you want me to bring down first besides the lights?"
Grant watched nervously as Damon lifted the expensive antique and began to float it, his hands twisting nervously in front of him, itching to beg his husband to be careful and not drop it. He didn't even spare a glance to the huge television; he was more concerned with the bauble. "Um... the reindeer and sleigh I suppose," he called out, breathing a prayer to whatever god that looked over antique brass to have mercy on his pretty.
Grant picked up the first plastic tub and looked at the label he'd placed on it several years ago. It was for the 'scopes on the mantel and the heavy crystal bells. He opened it and removed the bubble wrap before he took down the first of the 'scopes to pack away, an ear half listening for a crash and a curse.
Damon settled the brass monstrosity gently in the attic. He pulled the moving blanket from around the reindeer and sleigh then wrapped it around the kaleidoscope, so he wasn't yelled at for forgetting it later. He leaned out the door. "It's safe, Grant. You can relax."
He shook his head, muttering. "Xanax, Calming Draft, Valium... blow to the head with a blunt object... fuck... can’t kill him.” He sighed and flicked his wand at the reindeer and sleigh. He manoeuvred it out the attic door and set it in the hall then yelled down at his husband. "What colour lights do you want on the outside this year, Pet?"
He turned back to the totes, eyeing the choices of red, green, blue, white, and multicoloured. Miniatures, large C9's, icicles, swags, rope lights, nets to go over the bushes in the front of the house, and around several trees plus all of the lighted decorations that went on the lawn itself. Damon figured there had to be at least fifty thousand light bulbs or better. Enough to cover the house, the barn and all of the out buildings on the property and then to run them up and down the path to the front porch and along the long driveway.
There were all kinds of themes and styles and every year Grant changed it and added to the collection by hitting the after Christmas sales as well. Last year, he had come home with stuff that was snowman themed. Their house was on the Christmas tour every year and it thrilled Grant to no end to watch the people slow down and look at all of Damon's handiwork as he sat on the sofa sipping his cider.
Grant slowed in his task of wrapping his keepsakes and thought for a moment. He'd been debating for the past few weeks what theme to go with this year. On one hand, he'd gotten wonderful deals on snowman related decorations, but now he was more leaning to a Victorian theme with luminaries along the length of the driveway. He closed his dark eyes for a moment and visualized their house in both styles, his smile broadening as he saw an old fashioned theme spreading out in his mind.
"Do you think there is a way we could make it look like little candles decorating the outside?" he called, a dreamy look on his face. It was enough to inspire fear in the strongest of men.
Damon rubbed his face and groaned. "Grant... Pet, you already have little coach lamps lining the drive and walkway that I have to pull up. You want to set the grounds on fire by using candles? Or are you telling me we need different lights now after you spent three hundred dollars on snowmen shit?"
Grant bit his lower lip and winced, he'd forgotten how much he'd spent... but the coach lamps would work... maybe. "Is there a way to change the bulbs in the lamps to coloured one?"
Damon sighed and floated the sleigh and reindeer down the stairs settling them in their spot. Grant would soon be putting presents in the sleigh, it held the over flow from under the Christmas tree. He sat down on the deer and regarded his husband. "There might be, the lights only need a forty watt bulb and you've got the flame shaped ones in there now. What's wrong with the snowmen you got? Everything you could want is there, Pet."
And it was, Damon had looked at all the stuff last year. Lighted blow moulds of snowmen families, snowman shaped cut outs, a kit to build your own snowman out of real snow, dishes and tree decorations. Light sets shaped like Frosty, a door and mailbox cover, rugs, towels and little soaps all designed after one of the most famous winter pastimes.
Grant moved to where the sleigh was settled, carefully scooting it so it set just so, not quite ready to tell his husband he may have changed his mind. Running a dust cloth over it gently, he muttered, "I was thinking that maybe we could do the Victorian theme we did several years ago." Not quite daring to look his tolerant husband who may well be running out of tolerance for his eccentricities.
As much as Damon liked to indulge Grant, he wasn't prepared to try and find all those decorations. They were buried in the attic somewhere, properly labelled of course, but all the snowman stuff was up front. Grant had rarely repeated a theme; even if they had used the same decorations the theme was always different.
You would have to draw and quarter the older man to get it out of him but he loved to watch Grant create a winter wonderland of their property. So he bitched the entire time but it was fun nonetheless to watch Grant's eyes come alive while his favourite time of year approached. He pulled the small man in to his arms and kissed the top of his head. "Are you certain you want to repeat the theme, Grant?"
"Maybe mix the two? Do like an old fashioned Christmas? Something late 1800's-early 1900's?" he asked softly, his eyes closed as the tableau displayed itself in his mind. Damon's sleigh from when he had been a child propped up on their front porch, a small tree beside it maybe. The snowmen out under the sycamore tree, maybe the big silver snowflakes hung from some of the branches. And lights, lots of white lights.
Damon made a face "Do you know exactly what you want from the attic from each theme? Or am I going to have to drag both sets down here?"
"I'll do it, okay?" Grant said softly and then leaned up to kiss his husband. "I'll do it after I finish putting this stuff away. If you like, you can go ahead and let the furniture down now, I'm finished cleaning." He pulled away, going back to carefully wrapping each treasure before nestling it down in the foam padded boxes.
Damon hung his head. "No, I said I'd help you. I just need to know how much to bring down..." He stopped and looked up at Grant. "Unless you want to go get something new, Pet?" Yeah, new was good and better than trudging back and forth up the stairs and digging in the attic, besides if they were shopping he could eat out at someplace Grant normally wouldn't let him have. "I know you have gone and looked at all the new stuff."
"... New?" Grant said softly, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Have you seen what they have up in Fairmont?" He continued to pick up the small kaleidoscopes and put them away, nervous energy making him want to forget about everything and jump in the car to go shopping.
Damon grinned. "No baby, I haven't." He stood and walked over to the closet and got his jacket, shrugging it on. His favourite steakhouse was in Fairmont. They made a mean T-bone with a baked potato that was as big as his foot with all the fixings, for that he would endure the shopping. He nearly moaned in delight as he got Grant's jacket out and held it up for him. "Did you see something there you liked, My Own?"
Grant smirked at his husband, he knew Damon had a definite penchant for Dawson's Steak House and he knew he wouldn't complain at all if his man wanted to order the thirty two ounce porterhouse blood rare and lick the plate clean.
"Dillard's has a huge selection of gold and silver decorations that are to just die for," he said as he set the last bauble in the box and slipped his arms into the jacket Damon was holding for him. "Does this mean you don't want meatloaf for supper?"
Damon shrugged. "If you think we will be back in time, Pet. Why not?" He knew better than that. Dillard’s might have the gold and silver Grant wanted but Macy's, Nordstrom's and whatever else was down in Fairmont would have to be invaded as well. He knew his husband that well.
Grant shook his head; he knew damn good and well they'd be eating out tonight. "We could always try the new vegetarian place they opened up in the mall, it sounded good," he said wondering how Damon would react and trying not to laugh.
Damon stared at his husband. "You have got to be kidding me. You are going to drag me all over West By God Virginia and you want to feed me rabbit food?"
"Lentil loaf is not rabbit food Damon," Grant sniffed, turning away so the man couldn't see his grin. "And besides, you were the one that said we should get new."
"Pet, it's a little round pea pellet looking things. It's either rabbit food or droppings."
Grant let out a put upon sigh and looked heaven ward. "I suppose we could go to Dawson's if you like," he said and put his hand over his mouth.
Damon shook his head and wrapped a hand around the back of Grant's neck as he shoved him playfully towards the door. "That's what I thought. Get your ass in the truck."
"We can't take the truck, where will we put everything?" Grant said as he turned and looked at his husband. He had every intention of making the man's wallet cry.
Damon snorted. "Like there's more room in the Stang. What do you want me to do, go rent a U-haul truck?"
"But the Mustang has a back seat and a trunk, I don't want to leave everything out in the open," Grant said shaking his head.
Damon gave a put upon sigh. "Alright, but I am driving." He twined his fingers with Grant's and dragged the other man out the door.
Once in the car, Grant opened the glove box and pulled out one of his notepads, adjusting his glasses on his nose as he began one of who knows how many lists. "I need ideas baby, help me."
Damon peeled out of the driveway and shook his head. "My name is pack mule and Damonexpress, remember? I don't have any ideas on how to decorate. I move shit from here to there and try to keep my sanity while stringing up lights." He pulled onto the Interstate and turned on the radio to a classic rock station.
Grant turned his head to look at his husband over the rims of his glasses. "We don't need to go anywhere Damon," he said quietly.
Damon sighed. "Pet, I was serious. I love to watch you while you create. I am there to pay for the things you want, move stuff for you, take pictures when you are done and then cuddle you when the day is over. " He reached over and squeezed Grant's thigh then rubbed his leg. "You want silver and gold decorations then you'll get them."
Grant gave him a wan smile and nodded. "I'll try not to go overboard this year. Do you think Sev and Bit have gotten any decorations yet this year?" he asked as he put his hand over Damon's and smoothed his fingers over the large knuckles.
"Overboard?" Damon looked at his husband quickly then grinned before turning his attention back to the road. "You? Never!" He squeezed Grant's thigh again and sighed. "I have no idea, Pet. Sev's been really busy at the shop. He told me the other day he hired Jason Summers to help out but both him and Harry won't be able to cut it behind the counter for much longer. He's going to need another clerk, them boys are going to pop soon."
"He hired the Summers boy?" Grant asked curiously, it was the first he'd heard about that, but he had no complaints. "I'm glad to hear he's finally coming down off the ridge to socialize a little. It's not good for a body to be alone so much and it's not safe at all with him being as far along as he is."
Grant set his notepad on the dash and reached his hand down to his belt, feeling for his cell phone, frowning as he realized he'd left it setting on the charger at home. "Do you have your phone?" he asked.
Damon nodded and flicked on the wipers as slushy snow began to fall. "In my jacket pocket. Might need to plug it in to a charger though." He moved his hand from Grant's leg to the steering wheel and eased off of the gas some as it began to fall faster and look more like rain.
Grant reached across Damon, fishing the cell phone from his inner pocket before hooking his fingers in the driver's side seat belt and slowly drawing it over Damon's chest. "I'm buckling you up baby," he murmured as he eyed the weather out the windshield, he knew the temperature was falling and this would most likely end in an ice storm.
He reached into the glove box for his phone charger, plugging it in and then connecting the phone once more glad they both had the same model. "I'm going to call Sev and see if they need decorations. If they do, they can come over and Harry can take what he likes from the attic."
Damon nodded and concentrated on driving, glancing over to make certain Grant's belt was clicked as well. "Tell Sev to get the totes, they are heavy. I don't want Harry carrying anything."
Grant nodded as he dialled, then listened to the phone at the Overlook ring. When the answering machine picked up, he quickly left a message telling Severus where they were going, what road they were on and what time it was. He didn't mention the decorations before he hung up.
"Damon, do you think it'll be bad?" he asked quietly, not wanting to distract the man from the road and not wanting to challenge his driving abilities.
"Hope not, looks to be rain right now, Pet but we'll be careful coming back. The temp will drop the later it gets. We might be staying in Fairmont tonight." Damon reached down to pat Grant's leg then put his hand back on the wheel. "The snow tires are brand new and I just had the car and my truck service for the winter so we are mechanically sound."
"Alright," Grant smiled as he turned his attention back to the notepad he'd picked up once more, musing silently over what would be decorated and how. The car stereo provided a low classic rock background as the rain and from time to time sleet hit the windshield. It was nearly a two-hour drive and Grant made himself comfortable in the passenger seat.
"Do you think Harry will be able to pull off the turkey next week?" he asked with a worried chuckle.
Damon grinned. "I think so." He ventured a glance at his husband. "From what I understand Harry has roped Sev into helping him when he's not at the shop.” He looked over at Grant. “Brits doing Thanksgiving… this should be interesting.”
Grant laughed. “Hush, we might get lucky and it won’t be like the time you cooked it.”
Damon chuckled. "You know we should invite Gregory and Davy to join us. It’s most likely the first time they been away from their families for the holidays.”
Grant snorted softly, and shook his head. "Don’t you think we should maybe wait and see how Harry takes meeting Davy?“ he asked as he glanced back to his husband. ‘It may not be a comfortable situation.”
“I suppose but we could say the same thing about Allie and Max.”
“True, I hate to say it, but I really hope she decides she doesn’t want to come over. I just want to have a nice day with family without flying plates.”
Damon nodded. Max’s replacement dishes had arrived the other day and grant had just added them to the set increasing his place settings to twenty-four.
“I think I'll take that tree skirt over to Allie this weekend, you know that crocheted lace one she liked so much. Maybe like a peace offering," he said as he made himself a note. He was happy that the little witch had taken the initiative to at least apologize for her actions, but he still wasn’t certain about her mental state.
Damon gritted his teeth. "Alright but don't stay too long with her. All past incidents aside, I don't like how she's manipulated Max and might as well say Sev as well, since he brewed her those potions almost immediately. Maybe the medicines are what she needs but I have this gut feeling something else is going on with her." He turned down the wipes as the rain started to let up. "I’m worried about Max's sanity."
Grant sighed, "I stopped by the office the other day and we talked for almost an hour, you know talked and I think he'll be alright, he's just really tired and worried about her."
Damon nodded. "I'm glad. I know you can't tell me about what you talked about but I hope it did him some good. He's just a fucking teddy bear and doesn't need all this shit." He groaned. "Please tell me we don't have to decorate the Practice building as well."
Grant shook his head and smiled at his husband. "No, nothing drastic Damon. Just a few wreaths and maybe a little tree in the lobby. The lights that you and Max put up a couple years ago along the eaves are still in place, so that should do it," he said as he patted Damon's knee and looked back out the window. The rain was now a mix of wet snow and sleet.
"Excellent. Tom said he was going to decorate the bar this year so it should be interesting." Two places Damon had gotten off easy on the decorating and he breathed a soft sigh of relief. "So tell me about what you want to do out at the house, baby. Oh, I want to look for some chestnuts too for after everything is done. You have the cider at the house right?"
A grin curled across his mouth at the thought of snuggling up on the couch with Grant. The fireplace burning brightly as the smell of the hot, hard cider and roasted nuts filled the room. Okay, so he liked Christmas time too.
“I want to show an old fashioned country Christmas. Old sleighs, snowmen, skates, and things like that. Old fashioned globe ornaments in the trees and white lights, candles in the windows. Real candles, I don’t like those plastic wannabe candle things, they just look so trashy,” Grant chattered, his hands moving in front of him as he pictured what he was talking about in his mind.
Damon nodded and sighed. It sounded like the things his mother used to do when he was a child. Every year he had given up his sled only to snatch it back when he thought she wasn’t looking.
He remembered charming the candles to slow burn and last throughout the night on Winter Solstice and then his Da and some of the men from town going out on to the property to bring in the Yule log.
“I suppose you want holly berries, mistletoe and ivy garlands too. A Yule Log?” He grinned and chanced a glance at Grant. “Does this mean we aren’t going to Dillard’s but some junk barns?”
Grant smirked. “Good try babe, but we’ve got your old things out in the barn, they’ll do nicely. I’d like to do the Yule Log as well. Do you think we should do one outside as well as inside this year?” he asked, chewing on the top of his pen thoughtfully. “The piece from last year is still down in the basement in the tin, right?” He remembered watching as Damon had reverently taken the remainder of their Yule Log from the hearth last year and placed it in a large tin box.
Damon had always been the one to oversee the Yule Log, Grant didn’t know why, but it was tradition for them and one he never wanted to break.
“Do you think Sev and Bit will do a Yule Log this year?” he asked as he looked out at the swirling snow.
“I don’t know. He seemed to enjoy it the last time when we went out to bring ours in.” Damon eyed his husband for a moment then looked back out at the road. “You can’t have the sleigh. I promised Sarah we would go down the big hill in the back yard and she wants to learn to skate on the pond. That‘s why I suggested the barns because otherwise you are going to lose half your decorations come the first good hard freeze.”
Damon flipped the wipers back on changed to an outside lane. “You never answered me about the cider. Are we making it this year or do you want to do a soft mead?”
“We still have five gallons of cider left from last year down in the basement. It should still be good. I hope it is, because it’s too late to make it now,” Grant replied with a slight grimace. “We can do a mead as well, I think Harry will like it and I know Max does.”
Grant shifted in his seat and thought about the Christmas meal. “I think we’ll do a rib roast, does that sound alright? And as to the junk barns, we can stop if you see one open.”
Damon nodded. “I’ll check the ciders when we get home. Some of it may have fermented into alcohol and Harry can’t have that. The mead will be good for the littles as well.”
He thought about it. “Rib roast or a goose? Did we do a rib roast last year?”
“We did a ham last year. You know there is going to be so many of us this year, we could do both. I don’t know if Greg and Davy will be here or not,” Grant said, pursing his lips in thought. “But do you think Davy will eat it or am I going to be trying to make tofu turkey?”
Damon chuckled. “Ugh, do we have to? You want traditional we can get mom’s Witches Cookbook out and use the recipes in there.”
“Do we know what kind of people Harry comes from?” Grant asked. “I don’t want to do anything that’s going to make him uncomfortable, you know?” Remembering the first Christmas he’d celebrated with Damon’s family and how overwhelmed he’d felt.
Damon shrugged. “I have no idea. We’ve always mixed the traditions. So, I think that a little brainstorming session about what everyone expects might clear things up. There’s going to be what, ten of us, all together? Are Max’s parents coming in and what about Harry’s redheads, are they coming as well?
Grant groaned and shook his head; he’d not see the outside of his kitchen for a week. “I don’t know and I don’t know if the Malfoys will be back or not,” he sighed. “We really need a bigger house. Maybe if it’s not dreadfully cold we can rent a tent and put heaters out in the backyard to fit everyone in.”
“Oh hell no. Fuck it, we are going to the Bahamas this year.”
Grant reached over and gently swatted Damon’s leg. “You know better than that, we’ll be here like we always are. Oh, don’t forget your mother and her helper. We need to start shopping now.”
“My mother… what about Mourning Dove? What is she gonna think about all this?” Damon groaned. “When does she arrive? I got the contractor coming out on Tuesday to look over that first building closest to the house.”
“Don’t worry about Grandmother, she doesn’t celebrate, but she might eat with us. Last time I spoke to her, she said she should be here before Thanksgiving, but to not plan on her participating if she is,” he said thinking about everything he had to do before she arrived. “Do you think she’d be happier in an apartment there in town?”
Damon shrugged. “I don’t know, Pet. You really want to turn Mourning Dove loose on Echo? Oh, the same agency that handles mom called. They got a new aide coming in next week. A guy this time.” He grinned at his husband. “Think she’ll want some eye candy?” He chuckled and waited for Grant to hit him again.
Grant raised a brow and looked at his husband. “Damon, the woman can’t see a foot in front of her face, so unless he’ll let her feel him up, I don’t see how it will make any difference. She’s going to make his life a living hell because she doesn’t want a helper.”
Damon laughed. “I was just thinking for the first couple of months until she learns her way around. I know how independent she is but she always used to get a kick when we would go out there to her trailer and I could hear her cackling with the other older ladies as I fetched and carried.”
Grant laughed. “Well, do you blame her? A handsome blond hunk waiting on you hand and foot? It wouldn’t surprise me if she tried renting you out to her friends, I would have.”
“See I thought she’d like a white boy to push around for a while.”
Grant snorted and shook his head. “She might, I’ll talk to her about it. I just don’t want her abusing the poor kid. I just didn’t know if you’d be happier with her staying in town until her little house was ready.”
“Well, I suppose we could put her with Mom but I’d like them both to live a bit longer.” Damon shrugged. “Grant, I love Mourning Dove and I don’t think it will be all that much of a hardship for her to stay with us in the house. I still go to work at the bar remember.”
Grant smirked and then laughed. “I haven’t forgotten. And you have no idea how glad I am that you have such a big desk in your office.” He sat up straighter, looking out the window and pointing. “Turn in there please!”
Damon eased on the brakes and pulled through the crossway to go back to where Grant had pointed. “What’s my desk got to do with anything? I sure as hell ain’t sleeping in my office while she‘s there.”
“Sleeping is all you’ll be doing at the house while she’s there,” Grant snorted as he looked over the large items under the junk shops eaves as Damon pulled the car up and shut the engine off. “Oh look! They have an old washing machine with a wringer on it.”
Damon stared at Grant for a moment, wondering which was worse. The fact that he was about to be cut off or the ancient machine that Grant was staring at. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Without paying any attention to his husband, Grant was out of the car and poking through things with an almost manic glee of the possessed. “I really wish I had a place for it,” he sighed wistfully as he ran one hand over the wringers. “I wonder if it still works.”
Damon shook his head, horrified. As he got out of the car he stopped beside his husband and looked at the machine. “I suppose we could get rid of your Maytags and I’ll string you a line out the kitchen door so you can do everything by hand. I am refusing though to drag that SOB to the sink for you to fill and drain.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m taking my clothes to the cleaners as well. Mom hated that machine.”
Grant looked at Damon and grinned. “You don’t understand. I used to lie in bed at night and dream about actually having one of these so I wouldn’t have to use the washtub and scrubbing board any more,” he laughed as he raised one hand up and showed his husband faint white scars on some of his knuckles. “I always despised doing laundry.”
“Grant, put your fingers on them rollers.” Damon grabbed the crank and waited.
Shrugging, Grant put his fingers where he’d been told to and looked at his husband. “Yes?”
“You know I love you right and this is for your own good.“ Damon turned the crank and set the rollers in motion, slowly. He really didn’t want to hurt Grant but to discourage him from the damned things. He remembered his mother shouting things that made his father turn pink whenever she had gotten her fingers caught in the machine.
Grant gasped as his fingers were drawn in, trying to pull his hand back and finding it trapped. “Damon!” he hissed. “My hand is caught.”
Damon let go of the crank and then pulled the top bar off the rollers. He squeezed the sides and popped the roller out and dropped it on the ground, then pulled Grant to him. He pulled his wand from his pocket and ran it over the smashed fingers. “You alright Pet?”
There was a look of hurt and confusion on the smaller man’s face as he looked at his husband. “Why did you do that?” he asked as he pulled his hand back and held it protectively to his chest.
“Grant, Mom used to get her fingers caught at least once every other load when she did laundry when I was a kid. Can you imagine how much worse it would have been if the things had been wet or there was a shirt in there and you were by yourself?”
He pulled Grant into his arms and held him. “Not all antiques are meant for use, baby, that’s why they have made improvements. I’m sorry I couldn’t explain it better, but had to show you.”
“I never said I wanted to use the fucking thing,” Grant snapped. “I just said that when I was a kid I’d wanted one so I wasn’t beating everyone’s clothes clean. You were the one that went on about getting rid of my washing machine and using this.”
Damon chuckled. “And knowing you like I do you would have wanted to try it out just because it was there. I really did save you a load of heartache, Pet.”
Grant didn’t say anything, but resolved to find the most annoying thing possible in there if it killed him. With a last glance at Damon, he entered the dim building to do battle. After nearly a half hour searching, he’d found it.
“Damon, I have what I need and I found some skates as well,” Grant said as he found Damon at the front of the shop looking at old knives.
“Me too.” Damon unfurled an old six-foot bullwhip and snapped it down the aisle. “Look it’s even got the glass bits in the tips.”
Grant stepped closer to look in appreciation at Damon’s find, shifting the bundle in his arms. “Oh I like that, when we get home, I’ll soak it in leather conditioner.” The bundle in his arms whined.
Damon eyed the thing in Grant’s arms. “Is that alive?”
“Yes. Are you ready to go?”
We aren’t leaving until you let it go.”
“Why?” Grant said softly as he put one hand under the blanket to pet whatever it was.
“Because it will freeze to death in the car while we are shopping. Do you want that little thing’s demise on your head.” Damon crossed his arms over his chest.
“We don’t have to go shopping. We’ll do the snowmen at the house,” Grant said as a little black nose poked out of the blanket.
Damon frowned and pulled back the blanket. “What is that?!”
“She’s a purebred Miniature Pinscher puppy. The owner says she’s one of the little kind and she’s the runt of the litter,” Grant said as he carefully tucked the blanket back around the pup.
“No, Grant. Just no.”
“Why not?”
“It will dig up your gardens and chase your chickens and kill them. It’s a little dog and will bark at everything it hears. I don’t want to hear you bitching about it in a few days when the dog’s barking gives you a headache. That’s why.”
“She’s going to be an inside dog Damon,” Grant said stubbornly.
“Oh hell no. If I can’t get laid while Mourning Dove is there at the house there ain’t nothing else climbing in the bed with us.”
Dark eyes regarded Damon. “You’ll put up good silencing charms on our bedroom?”
Damon rubbed his face and sighed. “No.” He said softly but firmly. “Honey, we can’t take it with us right now.”
“We can’t leave her here,” Grant said softly and turned from Damon.
“We can and will, Grant. We don‘t need anything else to feed on the farm. Go take it back.”
Grant shook his head. “No. I’m taking her home.”
Damon shook his head. “Give me that dog and I will take him back. Dammit Grant, I have already told you no and now you are making me look like an ass.”
“They were getting ready to drown her,” Grant said softly as he put the small bundle in Damon’s hands.
Damon unwrapped the tiny puppy and gasped. The little brown and black dog barely fit in his palm. It was so tiny. The little body shook from the cold, and opened chocolate brown eyes.
She blinked at Damon and then whimpered.
Damon wrapped it back up in the bundle and handed it to Grant. He shook his head. “Enjoy your new baby.”
Grant cradled her to his chest and looked at his husband. “Really?” he asked softly and then looked back down at the puppy, a smile slowly crossing his face.
“Yes, Pet. Come on let’s get your skates as well then we’ll go get some bottles and such. She’s too little to be weaned properly so you’ll have to bottle feed it.”
Grant looked down at the puppy once more, a content look now on his face. “I can do that,” he said softly before opening his coat and tucking her inside. “Oh, I paid for the skates when I paid for the puppy.”
Damon raised an eyebrow. “How much did you pay for the runt? Does it have papers?”
“The owner of this place said he wouldn’t let the puppy go if it didn’t fetch the same as the others, but he wouldn’t turn over the papers so we wouldn’t breed her,” Grant answered as he picked up the skates. “We should stop and get her a collar, sweater, and a bed.”
“Hold on a second. You paid full price for the dog and they still didn’t give you the papers?” Damon shook his head and narrowed his eyes.
Getting rid of a runt was one thing, however gouging someone was another story all together. He didn‘t mind paying for the dog if it made Grant happy. However he did want the animal’s papers and he knew females were worth more than the males. “How much did you pay for that dog?”
Damon suddenly had a bad feeling someone had just pegged his husband as a mark.
Grant didn’t say anything for a moment, clutching the puppy tighter in his arms. “Seven hundred,” he mumbled, averting his eyes.
“Oh hell no. Where is this guy you bought the dog from? You can keep the puppy, baby but we are getting some damned papers.”
“He’s at the back of the store, wearing a green coat,” Grant said. “What if he won’t give them to us?”
Damon grinned evilly. “Then we’ll just have to call Animal Control and tell them about the horrible breeding conditions at this puppy farm and possible falsifying the breed’s status.” No one was going to screw his little husband for a damned runt that might not live. However he wasn’t going to tell Grant that.
“He won’t make me give her back, will he?” Grant asked as he looked back to where the breeder was busy. “I don’t want to give her back.”
“I doubt it, Pet. He wants to get rid of her because she is most likely considered a substandard puppy. Let me see her.” Damon held out his hands again for the puppy.
Grant carefully pulled her out of his coat, unwrapping her before placing her on Damon’s palm.
Damon cupped the puppy and brought it close to his chest. He looked her over, checking for anything that might be considered substandard.
The dog was a dark black with a russet coloured belly and paws. Her ears and tail had been cropped and docked properly and appeared to have healed well. The puppy whimpered and Damon brought it up to his face.
He met the chocolate brown eyes and smiled then ran his finger in front of the dog’s eyes, watching as the little oval shaped eyes followed. She tried to nip his finger and he let her, feeling for her milk teeth.
She nibbled on his finger for a moment and a small growl came from her, rumbling the tiny chest. Damon laughed and handed the dog back to Grant.
“She looks alright but is just tiny, I think. Let‘s see if we can‘t get her papers, if she really is a purebred.”
Grant tucked her back into his coat. “You mustn’t bite Poppa, he’ll bite you back and you aren’t even a mouthful, little girl,” he scolded softly and was barked at in response.
Grant smiled up at Damon and fought the urge to kiss him there in bumpkin land. “Let’s go see what you can do.”
Damon shook his head and started for the back of the store, looking for the man that had screwed his husband.
“Can I help you?” the proprietor asked as he looked up from his books, his eyes narrowing as he recognized Grant. “Ain’t no refunds.”
“I’m not asking for one. I just want the dog’s papers since he paid full price for the bitch.”
“I ain’t giving you papers on it, it don’t need to be bred.”
“I don’t want to breed her. I want to register her when she’s named. That way if she’s ever lost I can find her.” Damon was going to try being nice first until the man pissed him off some more. “He paid full price and I want some proof of the dog’s lineage.”
“You don’t need papers to name her and I’d advise getting a micro chip in her if you are worried about losing her. I’ll show you the papers and you can see the rest of the litter,” the man said, as he looked the pair of men over. “What’s it to you about the papers? It’s his dog.”
Damon narrowed his eyes at the man. “I don’t want to see the rest of the litter. My husband bought a damned runt and paid full price and I want the goddamned papers for her.”
“Your what?” the man asked incredulously and then began to laugh. “Get your candy asses off my property.”
Damon pulled out his phone and dialled information. “I need the number for Animal Control Please. I want to report an abusive situation at a puppy farm.”
Grant grabbed at Damon’s sleeve, he didn’t want this kind of trouble. He looked up at a noise, paling as several young men came out of the farmhouse and headed towards the barn. “Damon… please, lets go.”
Damon closed the phone and looked down at his husband. He pulled his keys from his pocket and handed them to Grant. “Go get in the car and turn on the heater so you’ll be warm.”
Taking the keys and hurrying back to the car, Grant nearly ran headlong into a short stout woman coming in the door with a thermos of coffee. “Excuse me,” he said as stepped to the side.
“Oh Dr. Wolffe. What are you doing here?” The woman exclaimed and pulled him into a brief hug. A whine came from Grant’s jacket and she pulled on the coat looking into his shirt.
“Aww, you bought the little runty bitch. How cute! She ain’t going to be worth much but at two hundred it’s a steal.”
Grant looked at her and then at the puppy. “This dog was only two hundred dollars?” he asked slowly and then turned back to where Damon was standing. “Mary, is this your place?”
Mary grinned. “Oh yes, Bruce and I have had it for years. Why did you see something else you wanted? I’ll make you a deal on it.”
Grant smiled tightly at his former patient, he remembered her well, she’d had homicidal urges towards her husband and now he understood why. “Mary, it seems your Bruce didn’t know what you had her priced at.”
Mary narrowed her eyes and looked up at her husband. Bruce Wayne Scoggins! How much did you charge the good doctor for that runt bitch?!” she yelled across the barn and smiled in satisfaction as her husband cringed.
“Hush woman, I done took care of it,” Bruce yelled back and glared at Damon. “Some days I don’t blame you bunch. Women are a headache.” He took the money Grant had given him from his pocket and handed it to Damon along with a stained envelope.
Damon shook his head and tossed two one hundred dollar bills on the counter. “Thank you.” He walked away from the man and stopped next to his husband. “Thank you Mrs. Scoggins.”
Mary beamed at Doctor Wolffe’s handsome husband and then shook her head. “I’m sorry he was an ass, I’d say he made a mistake, but he’s just a bastard,” she said as she cocked her head towards her husband. “One of these days I’m going to dump his good for nothing butt in the well and move.”
Grant hid his face and tried not to smile, this was one of the more gentle demises the woman had planned for her unpleasant spouse. “Mary, is the puppy weaned?” he asked as he put his hand back over the shivering pup.
“Oh yes, she’s nigh on two months old now, had her shots and been wormed too. Healthy little thing, just too small to breed, so tell me that you all are going to have her spayed when she’s old enough,” she said as she leaned against an old piece of furniture.
Damon nodded. He had been wondering about the puppy’s age and such. Grant would have just been tickled to find and rescue the little thing regardless of the situation. “Most certainly, ma’am. Thank you for the extra information about her.”
Mary nodded and reached in to pet the puppy one last time. “You be a good little girl now for them,” she said softly and then smiled to both men. “Have a safe trip and happy holidays to you both.”
“The same to you Mary,” Grant said as he smiled, taking Damon’s hand. “We are going Baby shopping now.”
Damon looked down at Grant, eyebrow raised in a questioning manner. “Baby? Is that what you are naming her?”
Grant nodded and grinned at Damon. “It beats Machine Gun Annie.”
Damon shook his head and steered Grant out the door after nodding to the woman. “Machine Gun Annie, huh?” He chuckled. “How about Killer?”
Grant got into the car and fastened his belt before taking the puppy out of his jacket. “Why not just call her Anthrax or Napalm?”
Damon laughed and held his hand out for the keys. “Hell, Grant she’s a little bitty thing got to make her seem vicious at least. What about Bear?”
Grant looked down at the little black and tan face and then back to his husband. “Why not Princess of Darkness?”
Damon rolled his eyes and dug the keys out of Grant’s jacket. He started the car; turning on the heater then buckled his seat belt. “Fine, call her Baby. All the other dogs are going to laugh at her.”
He turned in the seat and backed the car out of the drive, heading back towards Echo to the Vet. He wanted to be certain the dog was healthy. Grant was already attached to it and it would most likely kill them both if something were to happen to Baby. Damn he was already calling it that.
“Oh, we can’t have the other dogs picking on her. How about Harley Baby?” Grant said as he bent down and sniffed the top of her head and smiled at the puppy smell.
Damon chuckled. “Name her whatever you like, Pet. She’s your dog. We‘ll stop at the vet on the way back to the house and then the store, alright? He can tell us what to get for her.”
“Thank you, Damon, for letting me have her. I know we’ve always said no dogs in the house,” Grant said softly. “I promise, I won’t let her bother you. I’ll keep her out from under your feet.”
Damon nodded and reached over to rub the puppy’s soft slick fur. He looked at Grant and smiled, gently. “She’ll be fine, Injun.”
Grant grinned and then leaned over to kiss Damon’s cheek. “At least I didn’t name her Stew.”