Claire knocked on the shack door, which felt strange considering it had been her holiday home for her entire childhood, but her mum had insisted that she knock. It was Dan and Jones' house now, not that they were answering. She rapped on the rough wood again and huffed into the cold silence. This was no way to be spending her Christmas morning and the basket in her arms was awkward and heavy, not to mention the fact that her feet were so cold she couldn't even feel them anymore. And it was starting to rain again. She made the decision to step inside, just to leave the present by the door so that she could get back somewhere warm. That way Dan would find it when he was ready to get out of bed and stop being a lazy sod and she could get back to the B&B and Harry, who she hadn't even had a chance to exchange gifts with yet.
The door wasn't locked so she opened it quietly and tip toed inside, placing the basket on the floor as gently as she could before standing up and looking around the small space. When they'd moved the two men into the shack it had been a dusty, grey place but now it was anything but. Every window and doorway (every available surface in fact) had been strung with brightly coloured decorations made out of... wool! Claire vaguely remembered her mother knitting or something when they came down here on holidays but nothing like this. There was a crocheted wreathe, crocheted berries, crocheted candles, angels, reindeer and a slightly lumpy Father Christmas, all made out of wool. Her mother had made blankets, scarves and occasionally hats but these woolen creations had a definite Jones feel to them.
There was a Christmas tree in the corner as well but on closer inspection Claire saw that it was actually a collection of green, leather bound books from their dad's study, decorated with more woolen ornaments and an assortment of sea shells. It was strange and a bit silly but charmingly and artistically done and so utterly Dan and Jones.
She tip toed a little further in to the room eyeing off the lumpy parcels under the 'tree' that were labeled and waiting for when the whole family would arrive later in the morning but stopped when she heard a noise coming from the bedroom. It was a happy noise, low and rumbling and the sort of noise that was just begging to be investigated. Oh no, Claire thought, turning on her heel and trying to walk quickly but silently back to the front door. She was not going to fall for that again. Nothing good could possibly come from spying on her brother, especially when this time she knew he was in there with Jones. She definitely did not need to know exactly how they were wishing each other a Merry Christmas.
She was glad that Dan and Jones were happy and loved up and all, they deserved a bit of happiness with everything that they'd been through, but she did not need to hear this. Not when she could tell that it was Dan moaning and... yes... whining! There were hot, puffing, little gasps that were unmistakably Jones as well and Claire tried to get back to the door without treading on any creaking floorboards or breathing too loudly even though they probably wouldn't hear her anyway, not above Dan's litany of: 'Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, fuck, harder, fuck, oh god, Jones! Fuck! Oh! So close!' and Jones' sharp pants and breathy sighs and -
Claire's eyes widened so quickly they started to prickle and dry out before she realised that she needed to blink, but unfreezing even her eyelids was almost impossible. Had Dan just said the words, 'So close'? She could not be here for That! But as she reached out her hand toward the door handle, ready to fling it open and exit the shack at a flying leap, she remembered the basket sitting in front of the door. She'd need to move it before she could escape and she probably could't do it both quickly and quietly. Claire bit her lip and tried not to panic. She really, really needed to get out of here.
In the bedroom Dan's words had dissolved into loud moans and Jones almost sounded like he was singing and Claire rammed her fingers into her ears even though she knew it was too late because despite her fingers muffling the sound she heard the strangled cry that was either Dan orgasming or a wolfhound pup being accidentally stepped on. It seemed to go on far too long in Claire's opinion and she couldn't help the frown of confusion that creased her face when, after Dan's cry finally petered out, the sex noises kept going. What were they even doing?
Jones was the one making most of the noise now, though she could hear Dan egging him on, saying: 'Yes, Jones. God, I love you. Yes, yes, come on, Jones. Come for me. Love you. Love you,' and the disturbing sound of skin hitting skin (which was very audible even with her ears blocked and her eyes closed).
Then Jones let out a particularly violent gasp and Claire hated that she could imagine what he might look like in that moment, his body covered by Dan's larger one, panting as he came after being thoroughly shagged by her brother. The fact that it was actually a really sexy image was disturbing, but not as disturbing as the nagging thought in her mind that the sounds she had heard didn't really match up with the image of Jones getting fucked into the bed. Not when Dan had begged for Jones to go harder, and that Dan had come first, and then encouraged Jones to continue, and -
Claire shook her head vigorously, her teeth clenched as she tried to clear those thoughts from her brain. There were some things a girl was just not supposed to know about her brother and the fact that he most likely bottomed for his boyfriend was one of those facts.
She reached down and grabbed the basket, yanking at the door, but the rain had picked up in the few minutes she'd been in the shack, as had the gale, and she barely had the door open before she was hit by a gust of wind that drenched her in a mix of rain water and sea spray before it slammed the door shut in her face. Claire couldn't stop the yelp that burst forth as the heavy wood flew shut and she blinked the water from her face in surprise before she realised that the quiet of the little house had quite dramatically increased.
"Is that you, Claire?"
She turned slowly, her eyes like saucers beneath her wet lashes, but Dan and Jones were still in the bedroom and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
"Yeah," she called out. "I'm just dropping off... that thing you wanted. I'll just leave it here. I'm heading back to the B&B now so I'll... see you later," she rushed. "Merry Christmas."
She put the basket down and then forced her way back out into the icy rain, not caring how wet she ended up on the short walk to the car, or how cold she was when she arrived back at the Bed and Breakfast. The rain was the closest she was ever going to get to rinsing out her brain, and by the time she emerged from the long, steamy shower (that Harry had joined her for) she was almost feeling herself again. Almost.