"I'll be home for Christmas…" by InSilva
Disclaimer: don't own the boys.
A/N: well, it's been a while. Happy Christmas, everyone! Hope 2018 treats you all brilliantly. A little "Body and Soul"/"Mind and Vision" for otherhawk. As always.
He knew he was dreaming. For a start, there had never been this mood of warmth and happiness at any of his family's Christmas parties. For another, he couldn't remember any family Christmas parties. Not on this scale, anyway. And if he needed any more convincing…
He watched the tiger walking through the midst of shadowy party guests who swayed aside to let it pass. The tiger turned its head to look at him and smiled. Danny caught his breath: that was the smile Cole wore at his most vicious. He glared at the tiger, staring it down until the animal looked away, continuing its prowl.
Danny moved further into the room and found a drink pressed into his hand by a penguin who was evidently moonlighting as a waiter.
"You should try out for 'Mary Poppins'," Danny suggested.
"My cousin's in that," the penguin replied cheerfully before swirling on to the next guest.
Danny held the glass up to the light.
"I wondered the same."
Danny turned on his heel. The man in the utilitarian suit and tie with the mop of blond hair held an identical drink and was studying it with a scowl.
"What do you think?"
Danny blinked. "I think it's egg nog."
"Is it good?"
If Maria had made it, it would be… Danny took a sip. "Delicious."
The man shrugged and muttered something incomprehensible by way of toast before downing the glass. When he'd finished, he had a faint moustache of cream. Before Danny could observe the social niceties of delicately mentioning it to him, the man gave a formal bow of the head and said:
"You will excuse me. I have misplaced a partner."
Yes. He had too. He was on his own again in the sea of shadows and he scanned the room in vain for a glimpse of colour and life.
The warmth in the room suddenly drained away like a beginner's lucky streak. There was no happiness now but there were other things. If he stared at any of the shadows for long enough, they resolved into recognisable bits of people. That was Edgar Barrowby's broken boxer's nose. This one had Vincente's implacable eyes. Somewhere he could hear a giggle that chilled his soul.
He had to get out of there. He walked slowly towards the hall, biting down on the fear that was suffusing him. If he broke into a run then these shadows… Hardly daring to breathe, he put one foot in front of the other, willing himself forward. He was ten feet from safety, nine feet, eight... He licked his lips. The closest shadow had turned to look at him and he forced himself not to react, not to acknowledge it. Three feet now to the door.
He couldn't help himself. He had to look. And there was the mouth he remembered with its cruel smile. There was the sneer. There were the eyes promising pain and suffering on another scale. Sweat running down his back, his feet heavier than he'd ever known them, he stumbled into the hall and the room he'd left swept by him like a carousel blurring.
Heart pounding, he backed away hurriedly. He had to find Rusty. He had to- Calmness washed over him. There was only one place Rusty would be.
The smell of baking wafted up the stairs. Danny sniffed. Cookies. Full of plump chocolate chips. His mouth watered: he knew how they tasted. More importantly, he knew who cooked them. He broke into a run down the last few steps, his heart light with joy.
As he barrelled into the kitchen, he saw the two women wearing aprons covered in flour, laughing like they were best friends who'd known each other since forever. He ran like a five-year-old across the kitchen floor and wrapped his arms around Maria, hugging her fiercely.
"Danny, mijo!" Maria broke free, beaming and pushed a glass of milk into one hand and warm cookie into the other.
"I'm making apple crumble," Annie smiled.
He loved Annie's apple crumble almost as much as Maria's cookies. A ridiculously happy grin flooded his face.
"The boys are through there," Annie added, pointing.
Luis and Saul were sitting at the little table, playing poker, pipe smoke drifting through the air. They both looked up and acknowledged him with a smile as he sat down.
"Who's winning?" he asked.
Luis's eyes twinkled. "We all are, Danny."
"No losers here," Saul added.
Danny found himself being dealt in. He watched the dealer's hands, fast and fluid and exact, handling the cards with an intimacy born of practice and love, like a pianist caressing piano keys and coaxing breath-taking magic from them. There was only one person in the world he knew who dealt like that.
"You get cookies?" Rusty grinned.
"Surprised you left me any."
"They made more."
That made sense.
He glanced at his cards. Full house, Kings over twelves. All was right with his world.