Hi guys, its been a while but I'm finally back! And officially graduated from high school!
I know I promised another angst chapter, but I figured after the year we've all had, it would be nice for some Christmas cheer. I live in Australia, so my Christmas this year was more like the suffering heat at the beginning of this chapter (except about 10 degrees hotter, eek!), but I did my best to do the peculiars' white Christmas justice.
I hope you enjoy, and happy holidays!
Chapter 8: Christmas Lights and Snowball Fights
Synopsis: When a freak heatwave hits Florida on Christmas Eve, the peculiars must turn to the Panloopticon in order to save Christmas
Set: Post-L.O.S, Florida (Horace and Enoch are already out in this chapter)
Genre/s: Fluff
The Christmas presents were all wrapped, the hideous stockings made by Olive and Claire were suck haphazardly above the Portman's electronic fireplace, a plastic Christmas tree had been covered with tinsel and decorations, and yet Horace didn't feel the least bit in a Christmas mood.
He was draped miserably over the couch, his jacket undone and his top hat being used to fan his face. Around him, the others were stretched out on the cool floor like starfish or pressed against the aircon unit, desperately trying to escape the midday Florida heat.
"Oh this is just awful!" Bronwyn lamented.
"It's hell on Earth," Hugh grumped, his bees collapsed on the floor beside him, too hot to stay in his stomach.
"I feel like I'm melting!" Olive wailed, bobbing like a balloon in front of the oscillating fan, drifting further across the room every time it blew towards her.
"For the first time I envy Nullings," Horace agreed. "It must be so much cooler without clothes on."
Enoch scoffed, sprawled on the ground below him. His voice was muffled slightly by the towel wrapped up with ice cubes that he had over his face.
"You're in a three-piece suit you dimwit! Of course you're hotter than Nullings! Just take off some layers and maybe we'll have some sympathy for you."
"And then be hot and horribly dressed?" Horace shuddered, "No thank you."
He went back to fanning himself. Every time he stopped he felt like he was baking alive.
There was a creak of floorboards and the others looked up as Jacob wandered in, frowning down at the strange glass rectangle in his hand that passed as a telephone these days.
"Looks like this heatwave is continuing for the rest of Christmas Eve all the way until the end of Boxing Day," said grimly, "Sorry guys."
"You said it would be Winter for Christmas here too!" cried Claire, her back mouth panting from the heat.
"This is Winter," Jacob assured her, "Just, you know… Florida freak-heatwave winter. And didn't you guys say you wanted to experience an American Christmas?"
"This ain't Christmas," Enoch grumbled, "This is the inside of an oven but with Christmas decorations."
"It's only like 90 degrees out. It's really not that bad."
"There's no snow!" cried Olive.
"And we can't turn on your strange plastic fireplace unless we want to perish of heat stroke!" Millard said, and the others jumped like they'd forgotten he was there.
"Not to mention its far too hot to bake anything!" Horace wailed, "Say goodbye to Christmas pudding and mince tarts! At this rate, Christmas dinner tomorrow will be a complete write-off!"
The others all groaned miserably, shooting Jacob betrayed looks, and Enoch threw an ice cube at him. Just when things were looking grim for Jacob, the door to the living room opened and Miss Peregrine breezed in, followed by Emma, neither of whom looked the slightest bit hot.
"Where have you been?" Enoch asked Emma suspiciously, sitting up and letting the ice bag fall into his lap.
"Oh… New York, Prague…Paris," she said with a smirk, "Bird, it really is hot here isn't it?"
Miss Peregrine cleared her throat,
"What Miss Bloom is insinuating is that I've found a way for us to have a proper white Christmas after all," she explained, "We have spent all morning wandering through the Panloopticon, and have found it has plenty of excellent holiday loops that are every bit as Christmas-y as our traditions on Cairnholm."
Horace was sitting up now too, suddenly interested, and the others seemed to share his enthusiasm. They were all glancing at each other and beaming, a few whispering excitedly.
"I've made contact with one holiday loop in particular, created on the 24th of December 1920 in Grindelwald, Switzerland. Their loop spans from the evening of Christmas Eve until the evening of Christmas Day. We have access to temporary accommodation and permission to stay for one full loop reset. And," she added with a coy smile, "they have snow."
It was settled. They would have their proper European Christmas with snow, pudding and a real Christmas tree, and the younger peculiars were beyond excited. Olive and Claire had created a song for the occasion, some kind of dreadful, out of tune medley that they were insisting the others join in on.
Enoch grimaced beside Horace as they walked to the Portman's spare room to get their things.
"Can we just leave the two of them here?" he grumbled.
Horace laughed.
"Don't let Bronwyn hear you say that," he grinned.
…
Half an hour of packing later and they were all sweating even more than before, carrying wrapped presents and spare clothes in satchels, and were dressed from head to toe in cold-weather gear in preparation for the winter they would be walking into.
All except Horace.
He hadn't changed at all, aside from adding a little more gel to his hair and fixing his tie.
"Are you insane?" Hugh asked as he walked past Horace in a puffy jacket, scarf and mittens.
"You're gonna freeze dude," Jacob added from beside Emma, frowning at Horace's thin suit jacket.
Horace scoffed.
"Oh please, I'll be perfectly-"
"Mr Somnusson, go put some warmer clothes on before I make you," Miss Peregrine scolded, and Horace went sighing off to his room.
He returned with a scarf and gloves, but no warmer clothes.
"This is what I'm wearing and that's final," he declared.
"Mr Somnusson-"
"Please Miss? It's Christmas."
She pursed her lips and sighed, clearly deciding this was a learning experience.
"Very well. When you perish of hypothermia, I'll have no part in the blame," she sighed, then smiled and clapped her hands. "Let's go find some snow!"
…
The loop was gorgeous, created in a quaint Swiss town nestled at the base of a great jagged mountain. Its snow-capped peaks were the first thing the peculiars saw as they stepped out of the loop entrance hidden in an alleyway. Emma helped Horace up and out of the trapdoor they had entered through, and as he found his bearings in the cold evening air, already starting to shiver, he saw Enoch standing with a few of the other peculiars at the alleyway entrance. Enoch was staring up in awe at the sheer size of the mountain, his face tilted to the sky to see it rising up into the swirling mist and towards the evening's first stars. It was so huge that it seemed to dwarf all the buildings around them. The town itself was pulsing with life, its cobblestone streets filled with locals and peculiar tourists alike, all talking and laughing as they milled between the lit shop fronts. The buildings were simple but inviting, made of wood and with snow-covered roofs and windows that glowed amber with firelight. Soft snow filtered down from the sky, blanketing the ground in brilliant white and getting caught in their hair.
Enoch's eyes were wide, reflecting the stars and glow of the lights all around them. When he sensed Horace moving to stand beside him, he managed to drag his eyes away from the view and turned to him, whistling in appreciation.
"This is wicked," he grinned.
"I told you," Emma said proudly, "Jacob's hellish Florida Christmas doesn't hold a candle to a real white Christmas."
"Hey!" Jacob cried, and Enoch snorted.
As soon as all the peculiars were in the loop, Miss Peregrine led the way at a brisk pace out into the main thoroughfare.
"The cabin we're staying in isn't far," she assured them, "The sooner we get there and drop off our luggage, the sooner we can enjoy our time in this beautiful loop. Hurry along now!" she called cheerily over her shoulder, taking the hands of Olive and Claire, who were both beaming and chatting happily to her.
A cold gust of wind hit Horace, slicing at his face and chilling him to the bone. He clenched his teeth, clutching his arms to himself and instantly regretting his clothing choices as he followed along beside Enoch.
They reached the cabin in a little under ten minutes- it was modest and wooden, located on the outskirts of town among a copse of pine trees, with a pointed roof heaped with fresh snow. A fire had already been lit inside, and Horace breathed a sigh of relief, but he didn't get much chance to warm up- the others dropped their bags just inside the door then ran back out into the snow, too excited to hang around. Miss Peregrine locked up the cabin, then hurried out through the snow to catch up to her racing wards, shaking her head with a smile as Olive squealed with excitement and Emma stood laughing at Jacob's amazement at the handful of snow in his palms. Horace supposed that, having lived in Florida his whole life, snow would hardly be a regular occurrence for Jacob.
"Where to first, Miss?" Bronwyn asked.
"We should make snow angels!" Olive insisted enthusiastically. Enoch just scoffed.
"Please, we ain't all sissies like you and Claire," he grumbled, "I say we go sledding, or… oh!" his face lit up, "We should go hunting! They've got heaps of deer here, it'd be dead easy. I'd just set a trap… then bam!" he mimed stabbing violently at the air, "Straight for the heart."
"Absolutely not," Emma said disapprovingly.
"Er… how about window shopping instead?" Horace suggested meekly, looking a bit green.
"Oh, that would be fun!" Bronwyn nodded.
"It would be nice to explore more of the town centre," Millard agreed.
Enoch lowered his arm, looking disappointed.
"You're all a bunch of killjoys," he sulked.
Despite Enoch's protests, he was outvoted and the peculiars headed back into town. They walked happily through the cobbled streets, boots crunching on snow and breath curling before them in the frigid air. Compared to Horace, they barely looked cold- their smiling faces had nothing more than rosy cheeks and reddened noses, and only the youngest of them shivered. Horace himself thought he might never be warm again. He walked with his arms wrapped close to his chest, his teeth gritted against the bitter cold and his body shivering convulsively.
"Here, Horace, take my sweater- you look so awfully cold!" Bronwyn fretted, fussing over him and beginning to pull her sweater over her head. Despite the cold air, a single thin sweater appeared to be the only layer she needed- Bronwyn always seemed to be a walking heater, and the cold was barely bothering her now. But Horace took one look at the dumpy flour-sack sweater and paled.
"Er… no thank you, Bronwyn," he said quickly, teeth chattering, "I'm really not as cold as I seem…"
"Oh nonsense," she tutted, pulling it off over her head and trying to hand it to him, "You're turning blue, Horace!"
Horace looked uncomfortable, and hastily pushed it back to her,
"That's very kind of you Bronwyn, but I already have a co-ordinated outfit for the occasion, you see- with complementary colours and fabrics and the like… so compared to such a sweater I'm simply over-dressed."
"Over-proud is what you are." Enoch snorted behind them, and Horace shot him a glare.
"I'm not cold and that's that," Horace sniffed, "I honestly don't know what you all are complaining about- in fact I think it's rather warm," he insisted, strutting ahead and trying not to shiver as a wave of glacial wind hit him.
He could hear the others snickering behind him, but he ignored them.
"You're all just jealous that I'm the best dressed here," he huffed.
They passed a small shopfront, from where a warm glow was emanating through the windows, which were decorated with tinsel and a large wreath. As they passed, the door swung open for a departing customer, and a comforting wave of warmth and the smell of cinnamon washed over Horace. Inside, he could see a small bakery which had mince pies and gingerbread houses on display near the front, as well as neat rows of Christmas pudding and gingerbread men behind glass in the counter. His footsteps faltered, as did those of the other peculiars, who all seemed drawn to the little bakery. Horace realised that he hadn't eaten for hours, and he was hungry- and cold. If nothing else, the bakery looked warm.
One pleading look from the peculiars was all it took for Miss Peregrine to take out her purse and pass the most responsible of them- Emma and Millard- a handful of Swiss coins. She smiled, shaking her head at their eager faces,
"One thing each, now," she reminded them sternly, though her tone was light and good-natured. As they all filed in through the door, Horace saw her lean against the exterior wall and close her eyes, her smiling face turned up to the Winter sky. The Christmas atmosphere seemed to have lifted her spirits as much as the rest of them, and Horace was glad to see it had taken a little of the weight from her shoulders.
"Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand out here in the cold like a ninny?" a voice behind Horace said, grabbing him by the elbow. Horace rolled his eyes as Enoch dragged him into the warmth of the bakery.
They hastily scuffed the snow from their boots as they walked in, joining the rest of the peculiars who crowded in front of the glass cabinet and were all jabbering excitedly. A plump woman stood behind the counter, dusting flour off her hands with an earnest smile, looking a little worried as she attempted to make sense of the orders of ten children all talking at the same time. Eventually, Emma managed to create some sense of order, and ten minutes later they were stepping back out into the cold, faces bright and baked goods in hand.
Horace braced himself as he crossed over from the warmth of the bakery into the glacial cold outside. He shivered, nibbling at the gingerbread man in his gloved hands and enjoying the slight warmth it gave him.
"Not missing the snow as much now, are you?" Enoch teased beside him. He'd already eaten his mince pie in two seconds flat and was now eyeing Horace's gingerbread man.
"I told you already, I'm not cold." Horace insisted defensively, before rolling his eyes and breaking off a gingerbread arm, "Here, doofus," he said, handing it to him.
Enoch took it, a genuine smile appearing on his face.
"Cheers," he replied, sounding surprised.
They were walking at the front of the group now, with the others chatting and eating behind them and Miss Peregrine bringing up the rear. Enoch tossed the gingerbread into his mouth, then shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked perfectly warm, meanwhile Horace had lost feeling in his arms and legs.
"You sure you ain't cold?" Enoch snorted, "I mean, I know high fashion has always been said to be real comfortable and all… oh wait."
He smirked at Horace, who glared back.
"Very funny," he spat, teeth chattering, "And no, I'm not cold. I think I can handle a little snow, for goodness sake- I am an Englishman after all."
"A pretty rubbish one by the looks of it," Enoch snorted. Horace tried to give him a punch in the kidneys, but he was so frozen it came out as more of a weak shove.
They walked on in silence for a moment as the others chattered happily behind them, with Horace trudging along through the snow, bent almost double against the cold, and Enoch strolling beside him looking smug. But after a while, Enoch's smirk faded, and Horace could feel him watching him with something like concern.
"Your lips are blue," Enoch suddenly noted, frowning.
"Thank you for your observation," Horace spat bitterly, glowering at the snow and wishing he'd stayed in Florida, where at least it was warm. The next thing he knew, something heavy and warm had been draped over his shoulders, blocking out a little of the cold.
"Oh- no. Absolutely not." Horace insisted, attempting to shove Enoch's jacket back to him.
"Take it, you lying sod, you're freezing your boots off." Enoch snorted.
"I'm not wearing this, Enoch- I have explained already; I'm already wearing a colour-coordinated, perfectly tailored outfit, and this ridiculously oversized puffy jacket will-"
"Look, as much as I'm sure you'd love to be the best-dressed frozen corpse here, I'm not letting you die of hypothermia. Now put it on for Bird's sake."
"I protest!"
"Yeah? Well I counter-protest."
"What? You can't counter-protest," Horace spluttered, exasperated, "That doesn't make any sense!"
"Just shut up and wear it," Enoch snorted, grinning, "You look like a right twit causing all this fuss, you know that?"
Horace pulled a face at him, but zipped up the jacket.
"Well what about you? Won't you freeze now?" Horace countered weakly.
"Whatever. I'll be fine," Enoch shrugged, though he was already starting to shiver.
"Hey nice jacket, Horace!" Hugh joked good-naturedly, and Enoch and Horace spun around to find the peculiars all snickering behind them.
"Horace, you'll wear his coat but not mine?" Bronwyn pouted.
"Only because he forced me to!" Horace spluttered.
"Aww, looks like Enoch has a heart after all!" Emma teased, grinning.
"Shut up," Enoch snapped, his cheeks red.
"Trust me, I wouldn't even think of wearing suck a shapeless, bulky thing by choice." Horace said snootily, lifting his chin and folding his arms in disdain as he powered on ahead. In truth, he could feel a blush spreading across his cheeks and he found himself feeling strangely touched by the gesture as he looked down at the jacket, brushing his fingers along the hem and smiling at the thought of the boy who had given it to him. It was still warm from Enoch's body heat, and wearing it felt like a warm hug from him. As Enoch's boots crunched the snow beside him, Horace walked just close enough for them to brush shoulders.
"Thank you," Horace mumbled so the others couldn't hear.
"Whatever," was Enoch's flustered response.
…
By now, the peculiars had reached their limit of just walking around, and were buzzing to go explore on their own. After an endless chorus of, "Please, Miss?" and some well-executed puppy eyes from Olive and Claire, Miss Peregrine finally relented.
"Very well then," she sighed with a smile, dividing the spending money between them, "but be back at the cabin in three hours!" she called after the already-disappearing forms of her wards as they ran off into the swirling snow.
Horace was pulled along by a smiling Fiona, whose other hand was laced with Hugh's. Horace just had time to grab Enoch by the wrist before he was dragged away, and he could hear Enoch grumbling beside him about slippery snow and people having too much energy.
"Which way?" Hugh puffed after a while as they stumbled upon a crossroads, winded from running. The street stretched out in opposite directions, each branch lined with festive little shopfronts that glowed amber with firelight. Christmas lights curled around every window as far as the eye could see, casting away the shadows along the snow-covered sidewalk and bathing the four of them in a red and green glow.
Fiona's gloved fingers squeezed tighter on Horace's, and she turned to him kindly, tilting her head in question.
"Oh, me?" Horace stammered, as all eyes fell on him for an answer. "Er…"
"Christ, this isn't life or death! It's the same either way." Enoch scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Here, I say we go left."
"Well bah humbug to you too." Hugh snorted, but he was in too good a mood to let Enoch's cynicism get him down. "Come on then, left it is."
Horace took the opportunity to take Enoch's hand properly this time, with the cover of holding onto Fiona's hand too. Now rather than he and Enoch being horribly conspicuous to anyone they passed, they all simply looked like four friends, enjoying a walk through the town. Despite that, Horace didn't miss the fact that Fiona was happily leaning against Hugh as they walked, or that on Horace's other side, Enoch was blushing furiously and glaring down at his and Horace's intertwined hands.
As they passed by a small gift store, Fiona tugged on Hugh's sleeve and whispered something to him.
"Fee wants to go in there," Hugh said, pointing, "You two want to come?"
Enoch snorted in disgust, but Horace elbowed him and smiled at Hugh,
"Of course," he nodded.
As they crossed into the store, Fiona released Horace's hand, and Horace hastily did the same to Enoch. It was cosy and a little cramped, and full of trinkets carved from wood. The shop owner was a thin man with a beard and weathered hands, and he greeted them cheerfully as they wandered through the store. Horace trailed his fingers over an intricately carved jewellery box and turned over a perfect replica of a sparrow, its carved wings tucked against its body.
After a few minutes, Horace, Enoch, Hugh and Fiona stepped back out into the snow and set off again, wandering between brightly-lit shops selling such things as fur coats, leather-bound books and fresh bread. At one point they crossed paths with Olive, Claire and Bronwyn in a sweet store, and the two younger girls' eyes were as wide as dinner plates as they stuffed endless scoops of chocolate and sweets into paper bags.
After a while, they found themselves in the town square, where countless market stalls had been set up. It was filled with people examining products or eating the strange Swiss street-food, as well as the calls of vendors touting their wares. A gigantic Christmas tree had been brought into town and overlooked the marketplace, its branches decorated with glowing multi-coloured lights and the very top sporting a bright silver star. Fiona and Hugh were soon lost to the market's crowds, leaving Enoch and Horace alone to wander through the stalls. Some were draped with gold and silver jewellery, others with knitted scarves, and one- which Enoch was particularly interested in but couldn't hope to afford- sold a wide array of engraved, decorative knives. Horace eventually had to drag Enoch away from the stall to stop him from torturing himself.
"If only I had 5 francs…" Enoch lamented miserably, staring down at the 50 centime coin in his palm.
"You'd have to use the spending money of yourself, me, and all eight of our friends before you had anywhere near that much," Horace reminded him, then shook his head in disgust as they walked away from the stall, "Honestly, five whole francs for a knife? That's practically robbery!"
"Yeah… scamming bastard," Enoch spat, but he was still looking over his shoulder wistfully.
Eventually they grew tired of walking and sat together on a low wall, watching the people in the market place- both looped normals and new peculiars- flit about in the night air. Horace and Enoch shared a hot, spiced drink of some kind that Enoch had bought from a stall, and its steam curled into the cold air in front of them. Horace leaned against Enoch and realised he could feel Enoch shivering with cold against his arm. He must have been freezing, but refused to take back his jacket when Horace offered, and it made Horace feel even more grateful for his kindness. He passed Enoch the mug and let him drink the rest, hoping that at least it might warm him up.
Horace had also bought them each a small square of fruit-biscuit from a street vendor, and when Enoch frowned at it in confusion, Horace explained before he could ask.
"It's called Basler Leckerli," he supplied, "The vendor told me they're a popular biscuit to have at Christmas time."
Despite their unusual name, the biscuits ended up being nice- full of spice, nuts and fruit. Horace made a mental note to look up the recipe once they got back to the present.
…
Horace and Enoch had barely set off again into the snow, when they came across Olive and Claire for the second time that day. The girls must have been looking for them, because as soon as they met eyes across the street, they ran over with big smiles.
"Horace! Enoch!" Olive called them cheerfully, "Come play with us!"
Claire stood beside her, grinning mischievously with something lumpy hidden in the pockets of her coat.
"What's the game?" Enoch frowned, "And what's that?" he asked, pointing to Claire.
She and Olive just shrugged innocently, then skipped off towards the outer edge of town.
Enoch and Horace glanced at each other, then warily followed.
"Olive? Claire? Where have you gone?" Horace called as they crossed over from the freshly swept street onto undulating hills of soft snow. The two girls had completely disappeared, and it was eerily quiet.
"Er… hello?" Horace frowned, walking deeper into the snow. Suddenly Enoch froze and grabbed his arm.
"Wait a minute…" his eyes widened in realisation, "…it's an ambush!" he cried.
They didn't even have time to run. No sooner had he spoken, there was an almighty roar as the peculiars leapt out into the open all around them, and the air was suddenly filled with flying snowballs.
Horace shrieked and ducked as they pelted him, and Enoch shielded his face with one hand, grabbing Horace's arm with the other. He dragged him behind a mound of snow and they both dropped to their stomachs, hiding from the onslaught.
"Bloody hell! So much for Christmas cheer!" Enoch spluttered as he shook snow from his hair.
Horace wailed, rolling onto his back and clutching at his ribs,
"Enoch, help me! I think I'm bleeding internally!" he panicked.
Enoch snorted.
"Don't be ridiculous. Now come and help me make ammo for Bird's sake," he insisted, already beginning to create snowballs and lobbing them over the snow mound at the others.
Horace was excellent at making the snowballs, creating them at frightening speed, and Enoch had deadly aim, making them quite a formidable team. They soon fell into a steady rhythm and were actually laying down enough cover fire to push the others back. Enoch landed one snowball in the side of Bronwyn's head, another straight into Jacob's gut, and a third and fourth collided with Claire and Olive at the same time.
"Take that!" Enoch spat, grinning, as he hurled more at Hugh. He turned to Horace and shoved two snowballs into his hands, "Go on, you have a go."
"Oh, well…"
Enoch snorted,
"Throw them, doofus! It's fun!"
Horace raised his arm, winding back to throw, when suddenly a snowball caught him in the back of the head. Enoch spun around and cursed- Emma, Fiona and Millard had snuck around to flank them from behind, and were hurling snowballs with a vengeance. Enoch copped one straight to the face before he could retaliate, leaving him gagging and spitting snow. Horace was incapacitated by fear, wailing that it was the end of days, while Enoch desperately snatched the snowballs from his hands and threw them back at their attackers. It was no use- they were surrounded on all sides, and the other peculiars were closing in.
"How the hell did they get so many snowballs!" Enoch grumbled, "Did they strip the whole bloody country of snow? Hey!" he suddenly cried as Hugh pelted a snowball straight at Horace, and Enoch dove in front of him. Horace and Enoch ended up face to face in the snow, with Enoch shielding him from the onslaught with his body.
"There's no way out of this," Enoch cursed to Horace's wide eyes, "We're gonna have to make a run for it."
"What?" Horace spluttered, but it was too late.
Enoch grabbed his hand and suddenly took off running, pulling Horace along behind him as they sprinted through the maelstrom of falling snowballs. Hugh lunged to grab them and missed, and as Emma stepped in to block their path, Enoch grinned and lobbed a handful of snow straight into her face.
"You bastard!" she cried, laughing as she smeared the snow from her eyes.
They reached the cobblestone roads of town and Enoch hurtled straight through the crowds, dragging Horace behind him. Horace's vision was reduced to a swirl of blurred Christmas lights and the bodies of people as they ran in dizzying directions, down side roads and across market places. Enoch had a brilliant smile on his face, whooping and cheering at the top of his lungs, with Horace shrieking with laughter and trying desperately to match his pace.
"Make way, people!" Enoch cried, beaming as the crowd hurriedly parted for them.
"You're insane!" Horace laughed as Enoch leaped over someone's dog, then splashed through a half-frozen fountain.
"I'm an escape artist!" Enoch replied over his shoulder.
After a while, Horace's steps faltered, and he stumbled to a halt, bent double and breathless. Enoch stopped beside him, grinning and breathing hard.
"I think… perhaps… we lost them…" Horace panted.
"There they are!" a voice rang out behind them, and they turned to find Emma, Hugh and Jacob hot on the chase, Olive and Fiona a little ways behind.
Enoch groaned, and Horace hurriedly grabbed his hand again.
"Come on!" he cried.
They sprinted off again on tired legs, ducking around the corner and losing themselves in the crowd. Enoch was beginning to slow down now and Horace was equally winded, but just as hope seemed lost, Horace spied an escape up ahead. Just as the others rounded the corner behind them, Horace grabbed Enoch and shoved him into an alleyway and out of sight.
They stood with their backs to the bricks, breath held, as their friends thundered past with snowballs ready in their hands. Once they had disappeared down the street, Horace and Enoch relaxed, gulping down air. Enoch turned to Horace, fighting a grin, and then they both dissolved into laughter.
"That was bloody brilliant!" Enoch cried.
"Escape artist, hm?" Horace teased.
"Did we not escape?"
"Only because of me! If I hadn't seen this alleyway we'd still be running."
Enoch shrugged,
"I'll let you believe that, but only because it's Christmas and I'm feeling generous."
Horace laughed and jabbed him in the side.
"You twit," he snorted.
Enoch grinned at him, but before he could respond, Horace pushed him to the wall and kissed him softly on the lips. He felt Enoch smile against him as he took Horace's face in his hands, his nose cold and his lips tasting of cinnamon. When they finally pulled apart, Enoch had a dazed, love-drunk smile on his face, but Horace just looked at him pityingly.
"I'm really very sorry about this," Horace said. Enoch's smile faltered, and before he could react, Horace raised the snowball he'd been hiding behind his back and shoved it straight into Enoch's face.
"Hey! What the hell?" Enoch spluttered, shoving him backwards, "You tricked me!"
"I may have," Horace smirked, and Enoch shoved him again playfully,
"You cheating bastard! I'll have to hand you over to the enemy for this!"
"Never!" Horace laughed and tried to run, but Enoch caught him around the middle and dragged him backwards while Horace shrieked and flailed.
"Traitor!" Enoch yelled triumphantly, "We've got a traitor right here, come and get him!"
"Let go of me you dork," Horace laughed.
…
The peculiars finally returned to their cabin later that night, exhausted but smiling. They kicked off snow-caked boots as they crossed over the threshold, sighing at the wall of warmth that hit them. Miss Peregrine was already back, reading in her fuzzy socks by the roaring fire, and she smiled at her wards as they unbuttoned coats dusted with snow, a few of them collapsing in front of the fireplace and holding out their blue fingers. Bronwyn helped Olive out of her coat and dusted the snow out of Claire's hair, while Horace handed Enoch back his jacket.
"Thank you," he smiled, kissing Enoch's cheek and watching him go red.
"Anyone want a cup of hot cocoa?" Jacob called, sticking his head around the corner from the kitchen. Ten hands immediately raised in the air.
Fifteen minutes later, Horace was curled up on the couch in his pyjamas, a steaming cup of cocoa in one hand and a mince pie Miss Peregrine had baked earlier that day in the other. The buzz had died down now that they were all warm and full of food, and everyone seemed sleepy as they shared couches and arm chairs, or simply lay on the rug in front of the fire. Miss Peregrine had set up a small Christmas tree while they were out, and it glittered in the corner as Horace listened to the hushed conversation and soft laughter all around him. Enoch was passed out next to him, slumped against Horace's shoulder with his hair falling into his eyes, and Horace carefully prised the empty mug from his fingers and set it down on the coffee table. He pulled a blanket over the two of them, careful not to wake Enoch up, and smiled as he felt his own eyes close. He knew he'd be rudely awoken at the crack of dawn tomorrow by Olive and Claire, who would be beyond excited for Christmas morning, but for now he was happy to sleep in peace, surrounded by all the people that he loved.
I hope you enjoyed! Have a great day!