Under Different Circumstances
Cabin Retreat
No, I am not last minute DAMNIT!
Disclaimer: My titles are fail, shush.
Under Different Circumstances
Cabin Retreat
That morning, on the twenty-sixth of December, Jean-Pierre Tremblay woke up before Vincent and when the alarm clock actually went off. It was a known fact within the family that the eldest was not a morning person. Therefore, when Vincent felt the bed shift, as his husband got up and started humming, he had to wake up and watch the spectacle.
As Jean-Pierre went about the condo getting their stuff ready and making sure everything they would need was in their suitcases, Vincent took the moment to stretch luxuriously in their shared bed, before rolling over to where his lover slept, and then snuggled into the fading warmth.
He wrapped the blankets around himself and hummed his partner's scent that was present in the pillow. He felt secure and happy in his little cocoon and almost as if Jean-Pierre was enveloping him in a giant hug. He stayed like that for a little while and then got into a sitting position.
He took a moment to observe Jean-Pierre and didn't mind when the older man bent down to get something and gave him a nice view of his ass. Vincent liked it. Jean-Pierre had a fine ass. He hummed in content and when Jean-Pierre rose up; the older man smirked at him, before walking back to the bed and greeted him properly.
"Bon matin, mon coeur."/ "Good morning, love." He murmured against his lips.
"Good morning yourself." He replied with a small smile.
"Tout est prêt. Reste juste à manger, s'habiller et partir."/ "Everything's ready. We just need to eat, get dressed and leave." Jean-Pierre told him. Vincent nodded and noticed just how happy he looked. He couldn't help but be happy himself; it was that contagious.
About a month or so ago, Jean-Pierre came up with the idea they should take a little time off together during the holiday season and go up north, for a few days to unwind, relax and take some well deserved "us time". He was surprised and touched at first that Jean-Pierre seemed to have put so much thought and careful planning into this little vacation and he felt bad to tell him they couldn't leave on the twenty-third, since their father wanted the whole family over for Christmas Eve/Christmas Day.
They eventually came to the compromise they would leave the twenty-sixth, stay until the second of January and they would exchange their presents for each other then and not on the twenty-fifth.
Whenever they would talk about the plans for the vacation, Vincent noticed Jean-Pierre's eyes would brighten up tenfold and he had never seen his partner look quite so happy; except maybe at their wedding, but that was to be expected. He would go on and on about what things they would do and how nice it was going to be to get away from the everyday routine and stresses of work and whatnot.
However, the thing that always made him just as giddy as his husband, and perhaps even giddier, was when Jean-Pierre said they were taking "des vacances en famille."
Family vacation… there was a ring to it that made his heart feel all warm and fuzzy. Sure, they had always been family, but they were only referred to as brothers back then, for lack of a better title. Now they were their own familial unit. Him, Jean-Pierre and Monsieur; their own happy little family. There was something cute and adorable about that.
"J'vais aller préparer l'déjeuner, ké?"/ "I'll go make breakfast, kay?" He snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, as Jean-Pierre pecked his lips quickly and then left for the kitchen. His husband gone, he got out of bed and went to shower.
Once they made sure everything was in the car and the door was properly locked, Jean-Pierre started the car and they were off for their cabin up north.
The place in itself was in a secluded area in Québec. Back in the day, it was their father and Jean-Pierre who visited frequently, however Matthew didn't go to it as much and Jean-Pierre sought refuge at it many times, during his more troubled periods.
Whereas he liked the city, Jean-Pierre preferred the calm and isolation the woods provided and Vincent found these preferences went with their contrasting personalities, at times.
The drive to the chalet went well. Monsieur snoozed in the back seat, while the two men talked freely amongst themselves, until Vincent fell asleep, as well. Jean-Pierre found this amusing and couldn't help but take a quick snapshot with his cell phone of it, when they got to a red light and added a note saying "ma famille."
He then took this opportunity to take a small detour he was sure would make Vincent happy and he hoped the place wouldn't have changed over the years. When Vincent woke up, it was about an hour and a half later and Jean-Pierre parked the car near the place.
"Are we there already?" The younger man asked, as he rubbed his face of sleep.
"Non, mais regarde autour de toi."/ "No, but look around you." Vincent did just that and at first he wasn't entirely too sure where he was, until he gasped.
"C'tu… is it, d'you mean, it still exists?"/ "Is it… is it, d'you mean, it still exists?" He looked at his partner, who smiled widely at him.
"La place où P'pa nous a amené y'a mille ans de ça? Ouais, la seule et unique."/ "The place where Dad brought us a thousand years ago? Yeah, the one and only." Jean-Pierre knew he had done the right thing, when Vincent's face broke into a huge smile.
Many years ago, when they came up here one winter, Matthew stopped off along the way to this little secluded spot. It was a lake that was frozen solid and the way it was placed, nature also formed its own snow slide.
Their father made sure to check the ice was stable, before allowing his two young sons to play on the ice and snow. Jean-Pierre remembered they actually all got along on that trip and no fights happened, for once.
"On peut aller dehors?"/ "Can we go outside?" Vincent asked, face pressed to the window. Jean-Pierre chuckled, getting out of the car and let Monsieur out. The puppy barked happily, as he followed his master, straying every now and then to jump in a soft, snow bank.
They put on their winter coats and pants, which they had placed in the trunk of the car not to get too warm during the drive, and walked towards the frozen lake. Vincent was a few feet ahead of Jean-Pierre, and Monsieur was jumping left and right into the snow. When Jean-Pierre had a chance, he gathered some snow in his hands, shaped it into a ball, and threw it at Vincent. It landed square on his shoulder and had its desired effect.
Vincent turned around and glared at him, in an amused type of way, before gathering some snow as well and chucking it at him. This effectively led to the start of an epic snow battle. They spent the better part of an hour chasing each other, throwing snowballs at one another, tripping each other and shoving snow into the other's face, with Monsieur barking joyfully after them. They only stopped when Vincent tripped Jean-Pierre, who fell on his back, but managed to grab the shorter man with him, so that he ended up landing on top of him.
They looked at each other, taking in the other's appearance from dishevelled hair, to rosy cheeks, and eyes alit and then Vincent kissed his lover, much too happy to care they were in a public area and Jean-Pierre was eager with his response.
"Merci de nous avoir apporté ici, Jean, j'me suis bien amusé!"/ "Thanks for having brought us here, Jean, I had a lot of fun!" Vincent told the other man, after a while, when he was simply resting against his lover's chest. Jean-Pierre pecked his cheek as a response and they headed back towards the car, Monsieur in tow.
It took another two hours to get to the country house and when they finally did arrive, there was much to do. After they brought in their suitcases, Jean-Pierre went to start shovelling the entranceway, while Vincent put their things away. Once he was done with that, he went to help Jean-Pierre with the snow.
By the time they were done, they were both pretty beat. Vincent started a fire, while Jean-Pierre made supper. They decided to eat by the fireplace; like they had when they were children and when the dishes were taken care of, Vincent found Jean-Pierre passed out on the couch. He grabbed a blanket from the bedroom closet, before snuggling up to his lover and getting some shut eye himself.
When Jean-Pierre woke up the following morning, he felt completely relaxed and couldn't remember the last time he slept so well. He managed to extract himself from underneath Vincent's body and let the younger man sleep, before starting breakfast. The smell finally roused the younger man in time and they ate in comfortable silence.
After breakfast, Vincent left for his morning run, while Jean-Pierre went to collect some firewood. Another thing that was great about this little vacation was the only communication devices they brought were their cell phones and everything else was left at home. At first, Jean-Pierre wanted to leave them home as well, but then he figured they might need them if anything happened. He drew the line at the cell phones and Vincent agreed.
When Vincent came back, he made them some hot cocoa, which they drank outside, while observing the artificial lake that was a few feet away from where they were.
"Dit, Vincent."/ "Say, Vincent."
"Oui, Jean?"/ "Yes, Jean?"
"Tu sais c'qu'on devrait faire?"/ "You know what we should do?" Vincent put his mug down on his lap and looked at the older man, who was still looking straight ahead of him.
"Non, quoi?"/ "No, what?" There was a small pause, almost as if Jean-Pierre was looking for his words. Almost.
"Une game de hockey."/ "A hockey game." Vincent wasn't sure he understood what he meant by that.
"Juste nous deux. Toi contre moi, comme dans l'temps là. S'a glace, pas d'patins, a'c les filets, les bâtons, pis 'é gants."/ "Just the two of us. You against me, like back in the day. On the ice, no skates, with the nets, sticks and the gloves." Vincent thought about it. He did indeed remember the number of times he played with his lover when they were growing up and how fun it was to tackle him to the floor, or snow, or whatever other surface they were playing on and being able to get away with it, because it was part of the game.
He knew how competitive he got and how seriously Jean-Pierre took hockey and he couldn't help but smile.
"You're on!" He said with a bright smile. Jean-Pierre nodded his head and noticed the lingering competitive edge Vincent's eyes had taken. They decided to have their little "friendly game" after lunch and decided the winner would top as well. The stakes were high.
Lunch was an amicable, tense affair with quick quips being exchanged and more than one threat being thrown in as well. Afterwards, they changed into their gear, fetched the nets (which were in the shed with the sticks) and then headed for the ice/snow.
The rules were simple; everything was allowed except hitting the other over the head with the hockey stick and going too far to the middle of the lake. Everything else was okay. The game would end either when both players couldn't move, or when one gave up.
Now, even though Jean-Pierre was the hockey player of the family and the one who played the sport diligently, Vincent also knew his fair share of tricks and had the proper stamina to keep up with his husband.
The game started without anything exciting happening. Both men were more concentrated on understanding their opponent, as opposed to actually out manoeuvring the other, for the moment. However, once all strategies were assessed, the game was truly on. The beauty of it was there were no refs to call the foul plays and that just made things much more interesting.
"Told you, you should've come running with me! You're getting old Jean-Pierre! Come on man, come and get the puck away." Vincent called out, as he ran away from Jean-Pierre. He was about to take a shot on the net, but then Jean-Pierre tackled him to the side and he lost control of the puck.
"Tu disais?"/ "You were saying?" He called back as he ran towards the opposite net. It would have been easier on skates, but the ice wasn't smooth and this made it more practical. Vincent wouldn't allow Jean-Pierre to score the first goal and he was hot on his heels.
"Mange d'la marde!"/ "Fuck you!" He shouted back in good humour.
Eventually, like in any game, or as seen in most cases, someone did score and it so happened it was Vincent. However, Jean-Pierre was quick to put two in and from there, things escalated, becoming more violent.
Despite the insults and the tripping, they both knew this was all done in the spirit of the sport and Jean-Pierre wasn't really serious when he called Vincent "un ostie d'câlice d'trou d'cul à marde" and when Vincent called him "a fucking hoser", he was just replying in kind.
Since they were two stubborn people, who weren't big fans of losing, neither wanted to give up. The game went on and on, until Monsieur came outside to look at them and whine. Even then, they continued playing, despite the fact they weren't running as fast, or that their aim was completely off.
They stopped counting at some point, since they couldn't bother keeping track and they finally called it quits when Jean-Pierre tripped on a dent in the ice and fell on top of Vincent's legs. They both remained lying on the ice, panting and trying to get back up, but they were beat.
"Et si – et si on rentrait?"/ "What if – what if we went inside?" Jean-Pierre finally asked.
"J'pense pas j'peux bouger."/ "I don't think I can move." Vincent replied. With much difficulty and many failed attempts, they made their way back inside, with Monsieur trotting happily ahead of them.
The original plan was to celebrate the winner's victory afterwards, but seeing as they were outside for almost four hours, they had a quick dinner and Jean-Pierre had enough time to peel off his shirt, that Vincent was already snoring, sprawled on the bed.
The following day, they decided to take things slow and actually exchange gifts. They would have done it on the twenty-sixth, like planned, but seeing as they had been dead tired, their plans went out the window.
Therefore, after a late breakfast, they both went to retrieve their presents and sat down on the living room couch.
"Ouvre le mien en premier!"/ "Open mine first!" Vincent pushed a bag in Jean-Pierre's hands and the older man wasn't surprised by the action. Whenever they had gift exchanges, Vincent always wanted Jean-Pierre to open his presents first.
He took the bag and pulled out the decorative paper, before reaching inside and pulling out a first wrapped item. He undid the tissue paper and found two things inside. The first was a red hand knitted scarf, which he guessed Vincent made for him and the second was a pair of pyjamas.
The scarf was long and had little motifs on it. It was made of strong wool and something else that made it soft to the touch. It was also red. Very, very red. He put it aside and pulled out the pyjamas. Those were green. A nice festive looking green and they had penguins on it that were riding snowboards, while seeming to be going down a never-ending mountain.
The penguins had Santa Claus hats, which were also a bright red and there were snowflakes scattered all over. As much as the gesture was nice and he appreciated it, red was his least favourite colour and he wasn't a huge pyjama fan. He tried to put on a very convincing face, so that he wouldn't break his husband's heart.
"Ah… merci Vincent…"/ "Ah… thanks Vincent…" However, unfortunately, Vincent's eyes were sharp and noticed the change of expression.
"T'aimes pas, hein?"/ "You don't like, hmm?" He had to think fast.
"Non, c'pas ça, mais c'est rouge et bon, c'pas ma couleur préféré, pis j'porte jamais de pyjama complet… c'est tout."/ "No, it's not that, but it's red and, well, it's not my favourite colour and I never wear pyjama tops… that's all."
"You never appreciate anything I do for you." Vincent spat out. He had not seen this one coming.
"De quoi tu parles?"/ "What are you talking about?"
"Just that! I cook for you, you don't like it, now I forced myself to make you something for Christmas and you don't like it either." He could see the hurt in his partner's eyes, but he also found he was overreacting to all of this.
"Calme toi là, t'en fait tout un cas."/ "Calm down, you're making a huge case out of it."
"Calm down?! Christ, Jean, everything I do for you, you never show any appreciation for it. What am I to you, a doormat to wipe your shoes on?" Jean-Pierre was about to say something to that, but Vincent never gave him the chance to.
"You know what, forget it. I thought you changed, but I was obviously wrong. I need some air." He got up, grabbed his coat, slipped on his boots and ran out. Jean-Pierre hit his head with the palm of his hand. Him and his big words; they would be his death.
He waited a few minutes before going after his lover, since he knew Vincent needed at least a good ten minutes to calm down and cool off. He also valued his life and didn't want Vincent to do anything else that would be extremely rash.
Fortunately, for him, it snowed during the night and it was relatively easy to track down Vincent. He was, however impressed as to the distance he traveled in that short amount of time.
When he finally caught up to him, it was to find Vincent sitting on a small bench, head in his knees. He slowed down his jog and sat down next to him. They both stayed there, sitting side by side in complete silence, but that was okay. Eventually, they broke it.
"I'm sorry I overreacted." Vincent whispered.
"C'correct. Pis c'pas vrai que j'apprécie pas c'que tu fais pour moi. J'apprécie toujours, même quand tu brûles le souper, ou n'importe quoi d'autre."/ "S'alright. And it's not true I don't appreciate what you do for me. I always appreciate it, even when you burn supper, or anything else." He tentatively took Vincent's hand in his own and was happy when the younger man didn't pull away.
"Je sais, I got carried away, I didn't want to…"
"Encore, c'correct, c'pas la fin du monde. Et puis, regarde moi."/ "Again, it's okay, it's not the end of the world. And, look at me." Vincent raised his head and looked at him. It was then he noticed the red scarf he was wearing around his neck. He couldn't help but smile.
"Me semblais que t'aimais pas le rouge."/ "I thought you didn't like red." He quirked an eyebrow, looking at Jean-Pierre.
"Bah, j'me suis dit que j'pouvais faire l'effort et yé chaud ton foulard."/ "Bah, I told myself I could make the effort and your scarf is warm." Vincent smiled and leaned his head against Jean-Pierre's shoulder.
"Et j'm'excuse d'avoir été chiant."/ "And I'm sorry for the way I acted." Vincent accepted his apology and they fell silent for a while longer.
"Jean, marche avec moi?"/ "Jean, walk with me?" The older of the two nodded and they started walking with no particular destination. Jean-Pierre draped his arm around his partner's shoulders and Vincent put his around Jean-Pierre's waist.
They walked in silence at first, but eventually they got to talking, until they made their way back home. When they got there, Vincent wanted to open his present. They went back to the couch and Jean-Pierre gave him the wrapped box.
Vincent tore at the paper and found a large book inside. The cover was simple and had no words. He took it out, opened it up, and gasped at the message that was written inside.
"Je sais que tu te plaignais qu'y'avait pas de photos de toi dans les albums de famille, donc j'ai fais des fouilles, pis j'ai assemblé de quoi.
J't'aime fort,
Jean
xx"
"I know you were complaining there weren't any pictures of you in the family albums, so I made some searches and assembled this.
Love you lots,
Jean
xx"
Vincent perused the pages quickly and found various pictures of him from different times of his life. There were some he didn't even know existed and others he had already seen. As he got towards the middle of the album, there were pictures of him and Jean-Pierre when they started dating, then some of their wedding, and finally, a few recent ones from last week or so. The last pages and most of the second half of the book were empty and on the first page of the blank pages, there was another note in his husband's handwriting that said "pour d'autres photos."
Vincent was silent for a moment, looking from the book, to Jean-Pierre, and then back.
"Merci Jean, merci… tellement! Juste, wow… ch'savais pas tu savais faire du scrapbooking."/ "Thank you Jean, thank you… so much! Just, wow… I had no idea you knew how to scrapbook." He added with an amused smile, as he brushed his hand over the book.
"J'en fait pas non plus. J'ai demandé de l'aide."/ "I don't. I asked for help." They both laughed.
"Chu heureux que ça te plais, par contre."/ "I'm happy you like it, though." Vincent smiled brightly and hugged Jean-Pierre tightly.
The rest of the week went well. They celebrated New Years with a bang, got to get some much needed quality time together and when their vacation came to an end, just like Jean-Pierre said, it did them wonders, and they promised each other to come back soon.
OWARI 22
I do accept anonymous reviews.
Started writing: December 20th 2010, 1:00pm
Finished writing: December 21st 2010, 12:07am
Started typing: December 22nd 2010, 11:44pm
Finished typing: December 23rd 2010, 3:55pm