a/n: fuck spelling his name as "horrors" and "horace", "horris" is where its at fuck you.

also, finn = flim flanagan


The Hunter had fallen ill that winter. He was pretty upset about not being able to work during the Holiday Season (Lord knows The Fox would probably try something during the time), but Finn and Horris were very glad to have him chained down for Christmas.

The downside was that, every year, Hunter made the majority of the Christmas dinner. He had very Southern recipes, nothing anyone could buy in New York City. Hunter had shared the recipes with Horris. But that did not mean Horris remembered.

As Hunter was taking a nap, Finn and Horris got to work planning the evening.

"We're gonna have one Irish Christmas this year," laughed Finn to himself.

"We gotta make one Sourthern thing," Horris argued. He turned on his phone and typed something in. "I found a recipe for pecan pie that looks like the one Unc always makes."

"Alright," Finn agreed, putting on his coat. "Let's make some things we can freeze first, though."

Horris followed suit. "Yeah, what're we making anyway?"

"Ham, roasted potatoes, cranberry sauce, whatever you got," Finn answered.

Horris excitedly bounced up and down. "Can we make deviled eggs?" he asked quickly. Finn nodded.

As they headed out, Finn started to list ingredients they would need. Horris typed everything into his phone.

They returned to the apartment soon enough, carrying several paper bags in their arms. Finn checked in on Hunter while Horris unpackaged the parcels. Horris stole the eggs, mayonnaise and mustard and placed them on the opposite counter, leaving his step-uncle to make the main courses.

A little while later, with the confident dishes made and the ham in the oven, Horris and Finn awkwardly looked at eachother.

"Pecan pie?" Horris asked quietly.

"Pecan pie," Finn agreed in a whisper. "What do we need?" he asked, squatting down to grab two bowls out from under the sink.

Horris typed into his phone and read the ingredients out loud. The two of them soon covered the counter in packages of flour, salt, butter, eggs, pecans, corn syrup, sugar, and vanilla.

"Okay!" Finn chriped, wiping his hands on a scratchy towel. "Now what?"

Horris balanced his phone against the wall. "Sift the flour and salt into a bowl," he read. "Okay, where's the sifter?"

"Sieve," Finn corrected, grabbing it from a wall over the oven. Horris blew a raspberry. "How much?" Finn went on, balancing the sieve on the plastic bowl.

"Two cups," Horris answered, rolling up his sleeves. "And, uh, one teaspoon."

Finn nodded. As he filled up a spoon with the shaker, Horris stuck the plastic red cup into the flour bag. He dumped the first cup through the sieve, followed by Finn's salt, followed by another cup.

"I hate sifting," Finn commented as he smacked the sieve against his hand.

"I can do it," Horris offered.

Finn chuckled. "No, I mean, the chucks will just break up anyway when you mix it. No point."

Horris hummed thoughtfully. "Okay. Now we need… most of this butter, pinched into small cubes with our hands.

"No," Finn stated, already holding and clicking the beaters into the electric mixer.

Horris shrugged and unpeeled the butter. He cut two tablespoons off the second stick, dumping both into the bowl.

"Here," said Finn, handing Horris the mixer. He glanced at his nephew's phone. "You beat that up, I'll stir up the eggs and water."

"Okay," Horris agreed, clicking the mixer on. Finn cracked two eggs into a small bowl, and let the faucet pour cold water in for a few seconds. He then stepped away and opened the cutlery drawer. There weren't any forks inside.

"Where are the forks?" Finn called.

"What?" Horris called back, turning off the beater.

"Forks."

"Just use a spat."

Finn nodded and padded around Horris. He grabbed a spatula out of a vase on the oven, and beat up the eggs as Horris knocked the dough off the beaters.

Steadily, they continued through the recipe. Finn poured the eggs in the batter all while complaining about the thought of mixing up raw eggs and butter with his hands. Horris laughed along.

"That's why all the good chefs are buff!" he giggled.

"It's a pecan pie, Horris! I won't be buff after eating it!" Finn argued.

Horris laughed loudly. Finn sniffed. The dough looked alright and, well, like a pie crust soon enough.

"So," asked the officer, "Now what?"

"Chill for half an hour," Horris informed. Then giggled. "No~. I don't think I'm strong enough to roll this out, Unc."

"Okay," Finn replied. "I'll roll and precook this, you make the filling."

Horris made an okay hand and did such. He used the hand mixer instead of the whisk as instructed, but the result of the filling looked close enough. It was a bit lighter than it should've been, though.

Finn patted his nephew on the shoulder. "It'll darken in the oven."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

Finn held the bowl while Horris scooped out the filling with a spatula into the crust. Together, the two of them placed the majority of the remaining pecans on top.

"How long do we cook it for again?" Finn asked, holding the pie.

Horris checked. His expression dropped into fear. "Oh no."

"What is it?"

"We were supposed to put the pecans on top later."

Finn didn't reply a moment. Then he shrugged and said, "I'm sure it'll be fine. How long?"

"Uhh. Twenty minutes covered, forty minutes uncovered."

Finn nodded.


Half an hour later, Hunter had awoken and joined Finn and Horris in the living room.

"Any crime?" he asked hoarsely.

"Your hour-long sleep," Horris said with a laugh. "That's a joke, Unc!"

Hunter didn't have enough energy to do anything else but smile.

"The food's all done, Hunter," Finn said, "If you're ready for it."

"Good Lord, yes," he answered. "Come help me set the table, Horris."

"I already did, Unc."

"Oh," Hunter blinked, surprised. "Okay."

Hunter seated himself while Finn and Horris brought the food out from the kitchen. The pie still hadn't finished, but it seemed that both Horris and Finn were in a silent agreement that it would be a surprise. Ham, roasted potatoes, cranberry sauce, deviled eggs and a jug of sweet tea soon adorned the table.

Horris sat beside his uncle. Hunter patted his head. "Good job, son," he complimented.

Finn sat on Hunter's other side and folded his hands together. "Should I say grace?" he asked.

Hunter nodded at him, so Finn did so. A few minutes later, Horris, Hunter and Finn had gathered the food on their plates and were chatting happily. Ten minutes after that, everyone was near-finished. The oven horned. Hunter jumped. Horris and Finn jumped too, but more in excitement than fear.

"Pardon me, Unc," Horris said, quickly standing up.

"Just a moment, Hunter," Finn said, standing a bit more slowly. The two headed into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Finn carried out a hot pie. He set it down if the table as Horris bounced excitedly on his feet. Hunter leaned up a bit to look at the pie and couldn't keep a gasp from escaping his lips.

"Why!" he exclaimed, "You boys went and made yourselves a doggoned pe-can pie!" He laughed boisterously. Horris and Finn glanced at eachother proudly.

"D'ya like it, Unc?" Horris asked quickly, "Huh? Do you? It looks just like the ones you make!"

Hunter wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded. "It sure does, son!"

"Do you want a piece?" Horris asked excitedly, wiping his butter knife off on a napkin.

Finn waved his hands to stop Horris, clicking his tongue. "It's too hot. Let's let it cool off for a little while, okay?"

Horris deflated a small bit, but Hunter patted his back and smiled at him proudly. Immediately, Horris bounced right back up.

So, a few minutes passed. The little family chatted on the couch. Horris shifted awkwardly every few seconds or so. The three of them were watching a gameshow and trying their hardest to shout out the answers. Usually Horris was right there, either saying something completely right or absolutely incorrect. At the moment, however, he was too nervous about what his uncle would think about the pie.

At the end of the first round, the boy rushed up. "I'm getting some pie!" he exclaimed.

Hunter cooed. "Right! Pie! I'm coming too, son."

Horris lit up as Hunter followed up into the kitchen. They each received a plate and a fork, and Hunter grabbed a clean knife.

Horris tried his best to cut through the pie, but he couldn't seem to pierce the crust. He grunted, but ultimately sighed and pulled the knife up.

"Want me to do it?" Hunter asked hoarsely. Horris nodded. Hunter took the knife from his nephew's hands and made the incision. "You were gettin' there," he stated, cutting one piece for himself and one for Horris.

Together, they two of them fished out the pieces from the tin and sat at the table. Hunter smiled at Horris kindly.

"I love you, son," he said. "You didn't have to make this."

"But I did!" Horris chirped happily, flushing. He tore his fork into the pie and took a big bite. As did Hunter. Hunter smiled again.

"This is perfect, son!" He exclaimed.

Horris was ecstatic. Finn, from the couch, smiled to himself.