Helen hid her smile behind the cluster of holly branches clutched in her hand. She watched Theseus scramble up and over the rickety fence in the faint lamplight from the light posts lining the town streets. After a precarious moment of nearly falling on his face in the snow on the other side, Theseus popped back up, dusted off his trousers, and held out his hands for the holly branches. Helen's smile grew as she dutifully handed them over, remaining on the safer side of the fence while Theseus followed Lowri's instructions on where to place the branches.
"You're taking to this like a duck to water, Theseus." After watching him slide off the well-made trellis pressed against the house wall for the third time, Helen glibly commented. "One would think you were born for this."
Pulling himself out of the snow drift beneath the hazardous trellis, the remaining holly branches thrust to the sky like a beacon of hope, Theseus stood, shaking his whole body to dislodge any lingering bits of snow still clinging to his overcoat. Lowri tsked at Helen, lightly swatting her shoulder for her teasing. For the time being, it was just the three of them, Gruffydd having gone to collect more mistletoe before they journeyed on to the next house. As it stood, this was the sixth they'd managed to decorate without getting caught, and even with the handicap of having an untried Englishman on their team, that was still quite a feat.
"You should know, Helen, I am a man of many talents." A cheeky grin and wink were tossed in Helen's direction before he resumed his efforts to conquer the trellis and finish his work.
Theseus' hair was far from its normal tamed comb down. After so many falls in the snow and playful head tossleings from Gruffydd, it seemed nearly every wavy strand had a mind of its own and had decided to journey in every direction in the universe all at once. Helen rather liked the wild look he now sported with his bright cheeks, gleaming eyes, and bright smile accompanying the crazy hair, but she was certainly not about to tell him while they had an audience.
In some ways, she was glad for the tempering presence of Lowri and Gruffydd. Back in the pub during the toffee making, they'd had nearly half the village alongside them, keeping the heavier topics at bay. Now, in the festive lull before the Plygain procession, they had the newly nuptialed Davies at their side. Each of them had been taking turns giving Theseus instructions on how to decorate while the three locals remained on the sidewalk, watching with great amusement as the Englishman sought to do precisely as they'd asked, no matter how bizarre or difficult. It was rather like a warm-hearted hazing ritual, and from how he responded, Theseus seemed wise enough to have recognized that and seemed keen on playing along.
"Here we are," Gruffydd approached, arms full of mistletoe, "oi, are you still not done over there, sosej? Best hurry up. The other streets are just about done, and it seems like they're gearing up for the procession back at the church. I saw the vicar enter the sanctuary to light the lamps." Looking past Lowri and Helen to the remaining few houses on their chosen street, Gruffydd nodded to himself. "Here, lass, you take these." He quickly handed half his bundle to Helen. "Lowri and I will take those two houses if you take the one at the very end."
Before Helen could protest, Gruffydd had Lowri's elbow in hand and was steering his wife down the street with a playful smirk on both faces. Hearing the knocking of the fence, Helen turned to watch Theseus scramble back over, dropping to his feet just behind her.
"Where are they going?" Brushing his hands together first, Theseus bent to grab the holly branches still on the ground.
Helen rolled her eyes at her friends before responding, "They've given us the Hughes house." Glancing back to ensure he was ready, Helen moved on down the street with Theseus quickly falling into step beside her. "The hen ddwylo who lives there likes to turn the tables on anyone who chooses his house to decorate. I cannot recall everything he's ever done, but there was the year he dumped hot water out the window on the poor folks outside. Then there was the year he tossed flour in their faces when they were by his windows and did the same thing with soot another year."
"And they gave us this house?" Theseus looked across the street where Gruffydd and Lowri were already setting about decorating one of their two houses. He chuckled, shaking his head before leaning close to whisper, "Not that I want you to leave, but it is almost a shame I can't use magic to decorate it better than ever just to get them back."
"I totally agree. However, I have no interest in wandering the streets alone on Christmas Eve when I have you to pester at long last." Helen shook her arms in his direction, the bits of mistletoe thrashing and rustling. They walked a few paces before Helen spoke again, "How long are you here for?"
Theseus' arms jostled a bit before he cleared his throat, "That depends on a few things."
"Like?"
Coming to a stop just outside the Hughes house, Theseus exchanged a dramatized look of foreboding with Helen, eliciting a giggle from the doctor, before he heaved an equally dramatized sigh and stepped onto the pathway leading up to the house.
"Like whether we can escape the wily clutches of Mister Hughes unscathed, hurry up."
His whisper was rushed and barely audible, but Helen agreed with the sentiment. She certainly didn't want to get doused in warm water, covered in flour or soot, or worse, depending on how keen the impish Hughes was on being feisty this evening. Following Theseus into the yard, she set aside the mistletoe to hold the holly branches for Theseus while the man climbed hither and thither along the front entryway and around the house's front face. All the while, Helen kept a wary gaze on the door and windows of the house, curious when not if the old man would strike.
"Hand me the rest of the mistletoe," Theseus dropped down from the trellis and stopped next to her just long enough to grab a handful of mistletoe.
The door opened. Theseus and Helen both braced themselves as the warm light from the Hughes' hearth fire spilled out around the elderly man who now stood in the doorway, blinking at them over thick-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose.
"I hope ye plan on using that for its true purpose and not just for decorating," his words bore threat, and since both his hands were behind his back, the threat seemed imminent.
It took Helen a moment before her brain caught up to what he was referring to, but once she did, Helen was quick to respond. With a high-pitched giggle, not entirely faked, Helen raised the hand, still gripping the bulk of the remaining mistletoe. She shifted forward and quickly pecked the old man's cheek, lips tickling from the bit of beard they found. When she leaned back to stand next to the wary Theseus, Helen spied a look of vague surprise and then amusement in Mister Hughes' eyes.
"Och, I don't need that, lass. My wife kisses me plenty; rest her soul." There was a coughing sound from somewhere behind him, accompanied by some quip in Welsh about not being dead yet. Helen smiled. "But it seems to me he does." There was a subtle shifting of his arms, a rustling of some object that he held behind his back before he continued, "Go on now, show me that this younger generation actually knows what to do with the mistletoe."
There was a pause, and then Helen smiled and turned to face Theseus. Catching his gaze, she gave him a wink the elder Hughes could not see, drawing Theseus towards her with the unspoken promise of mischief. Another pause, and then he inclined his face towards her, his lips mirroring her cheshire smile. An almost imperceptible sway brought them closer, their mouths laying against each other in the briefest of touches. Then it was over. They straightened to full height and faced the old man again, hoping the playfully innocent display had been enough to appease him.
"What the feck was that?" Hughes rocked back on his heels and speared them with a disgruntled look of disappointment. Whatever he held behind his back got another good rustling as he took a small step towards them, shoulders tensing and head bowing down in challenge. Helen instinctively raised the mistletoe-laden arm in defense as if it would do much good against his impish attack."It's no wonder our country is going to shite if the young are going around thinking that's a kiss! I ought to –"
A cold hand hooked under Helen's chin, tugging her face to look away from the oncoming threat of Hughes. Theseus was closer now. The open fold of his overcoat pressed against her side; she could feel the warmth of his body in the scant space left between them. His thumb touched the edge of her mouth, which popped open into a likely comical "o" in response. Helen heard Theseus chuckle as he closed the distance, whether at her awe-struck expression, she knew she sported or at the situation altogether. The sound seemed to enter her, pushing back to life the parts that had been struck immobile out of surprise.
Pushing up onto her toes, Helen finished closing the distance between them. Their mouths once more lay against one another, but there was more than a mere press this time. One hand yet unburdened with mistletoe, Helen wrapped it around the back of Theseus' neck and felt a responsive action from Theseus as he looped his free arm around the small of her back. Their holds worked to further press against one another, their heads angling to deepen the kiss. She felt his tongue trace along the seam of her lips and quickly responded in kind, tasting him as she opened her mouth.
It would've been damn easy to forget where they were and why but be it because he was born under an impish moon or he was offering mercy to the almost oblivious pair on his threshold, Hughes cleared his throat. The sound of his rasping chortling finally ended the kiss, both Theseus and Helen blinking at each other a few heartbeats before sense returned, and they parted. Helen hated letting go of him and was more than a little pleased when, though they turned to face the old man again, Theseus kept his hand hooked on her waist, his arm still a comforting weight along her back.
"Aye, that was better. Now, be a dear," Hughes pulled his arms in front of him so quickly both Theseus and Helen jerked back, earning another rasping laugh from the man, "this one is for your father," he dropped a brown package into Helen's free hand before turning and offering the other to Theseus, "and this one is for the vicar. My missus is not doing too grand this evening, so we'll be sitting out the service tonight."
He gave them both another round of festive encouragement before shutting the door and sealing Theseus and Helen in the silvery moonlight of the evening. They stood equally mute for a few breaths before Helen started laughing. Theseus was quick to join her. The still-laughing pair stumbled down the pathway to the street, where they met Lowri and Gruffydd. Refusing to explain why they were laughing, they walked together to the church where the bulk of the village had already gathered.
While Theseus made a detour to hand off the package to the vicar, Helen joined her father in the pew, making sure to leave room for Theseus. The service started soon after he sat down. It felt good, natural even, to feel him pressed against her side in the pew as they sang carols and did the seasonal recitations together. And when the service ended and everyone made for their homes, her heart seemed to soar to the moon as she walked between her father and Theseus, arms looping through both men's elbows, listening to them playfully banter as they journeyed home. Her father bid them good night and charged Helen with ensuring Theseus' safe return to the pub once they stood outside the O'Reilly home. There was an invitation to swing by later for Christmas dinner, which Theseus accepted without hesitation before he and Helen turned to continue down the street.
For as delighted as Helen felt, she'd known Theseus long enough to expect the other shoe to drop. With this thought in mind, she strained her neck, peering up into the dark sky as if looking for said shoe.
"What are you doing?" Theseus's good humor sounded in his voice, and his gaze was bright with amusement when she looked at him.
"Looking for the shoe that I fear is about to drop."
Though a portion of the good humor seemed to sober with her words, Theseus didn't pull away. Instead, he circled his arm around the small of her back and pulled her closer, their steps equalling out soon after. Not one to be outdone, Helen mirrored his touch by looping her arm around his back and squeezing his torso. This earned her a grunting chuckle.
"There doesn't have to be a shoe, Helen."
She couldn't help the sudden scoffing snort and glanced up at him apologetically before speaking, "Forgive me for being wary, Theseus, but in all our years of knowing each other, there's always been some damned shoe. I guess I want to know where it will come from and when."
He grew quiet, and they continued on their way, steps slow and unhurried. Without verbally conferring with one another, they seemed to be of the same mind, not wanting to be surrounded by others while working through this much-needed conversation. Helen broke the silence.
"I never had a chance to ask about your healing process." Glancing up at him, she watched for any microexpressions and was disappointed when she couldn't read anything in the expression he wore now.
"There are still some blanks, but I've returned to work, and those blanks haven't proven to be a hindrance in that regard." He caught her gaze and squeezed her torso. "Some of my memories are out of order and out of context; some feel more like someone else lived the memory, and I only have the summary of the events."
"That may still change with time." Helen stopped herself before she fell too much into the doctor role. That wasn't the point of this conversation. "Are you happy to be back at work?"
Theseus sucked in his lower lip, eyebrows furrowing in thought. Letting out a sigh a moment later, he replied. "Yes. And in case you're wondering, things are more settled again in the other world. You're no longer at risk."
"Well, that's good to hear. It'd be damned difficult to explain another kidnapping to my father on Christmas Day."
"You know," Theseus laughed, angling his head to look at her, pausing in their walk, "he seemed more disappointed you returned unmarried than you'd been gone."
"That sounds about right." Helen chuckled. Reaching up to lay her free hand on his chest, Helen gave her best rendition of femme fatale in expression and voice, "You won't need chloroform this time, Mister Scamander."
Theseus stood stiff a moment before the night rang with his laughter, and Helen was suddenly pulled into an embrace. Perfectly content to tuck her head under his chin and snuggle deeper into the hold, she gave him a squeeze and closed her eyes. When he spoke again, she felt the vibrations of his voice through his chest.
"I can ask for an adjustment in my work to allow me more control over my hours. That'll give me more freedom to…travel where I wish."
Helen opened her eyes, not letting go of her hold. His words had felt nuanced, as if there was something deeper in them he was trying to convey or ask.
"That's nice." Not knowing what else to say, the phrase came quickly enough.
Helen felt Theseus sigh and was marginally disappointed when his hands on her shoulders pushed her away just enough for him to look down at her. They stared at one another in the shadows between two lamps, the world muted by the snow. The townsfolk who hadn't gone to the service had yet to wake up, while those who had were just tucking into bed for a wee nap before the next round of festivities. Very easily, it could feel as if they alone were awake and on the cusp of something.
Theseus bent down, lips warm against the chill on her cheek, brushing it lightly. Thought soft, the touch sent shivers through her body. Her hands gripped his overcoat. Bending lower still, she felt the tip of his nose first against the curve of her jaw before, again, the light brush of his lips against her skin. His hands were not idle in this. The warm pressure roaming up and down, one hand placed between her shoulder blades, the other low and suggestive, pressing where her back began to curve to meet her arse. Helen melted against him. As cliché as it seemed, it was the only thing her body was willing to do at the moment. Her weight mingled against his, chest to chest, hip to hip, head lifted up and back as he pressed gentle, unhurried kisses down her neck.
When he encountered the barrier of clothing, the caressing journey detoured around the front of her neck to travel up the other side. When his kiss ended just below her ear, Helen couldn't help the slight hitch in her breath when he pulled her earlobe between his lips, lightly nipping at the pliable flesh. If ever there was a man intent upon seducing, it was Theseus Scamander. And if ever there was a woman who'd be damned if anything but that happened, it was Helen O'Reilly.
"Helen," his voice was roughened with desire; she recognized the sound as she felt it herself. "I want to be with you." His hands adjusted their positions, switching places in a manner but never losing the heated pressure. Turning his head, Theseus pressed a firm kiss to her temple before tipping his head back enough to lay his forehead against hers. "And not just for tonight."
Her eyes shot open, and she caught his gaze. She saw the earnest hope in his eyes, a hope she'd felt more than once before but, because of circumstances, had pushed aside and locked away. That was why he'd mentioned the work adjustment, Helen realized with belated clarity. If she'd tried to use that as a potential "shoe" in his request, Theseus had already batted aside her fears by sharing. And throughout this evening, he hadn't been putting on a show for her or any others. She would've known if he had been. No, he'd been genuine in his interactions with her family and friends and had integrated easily enough with them all. So if she tried to use that as a "shoe," again, there was no doing it as he'd effectively eradicated it as a possibility.
Helen blinked, mouth gaping. "The feck am I doing!" Here she stood with Theseus Scamander, telling her in so many words that he loved her and wanted to be with her. Instead of celebrating that fact, she was trying to figure out what "shoes" she could conjure up.
"Uh," Theseus lifted his head, expression pinched with confusion, "I don't –"
The rest of his words were lost against her mouth when she reached up and pulled him down to her. He tried to kiss her gently, but she did not want or need gentleness. Not after so many almosts and teased could have beens. The embrace adjusted fluidly as Helen brought her hands up to wrap around the back of his neck, the fingers of one hand twisting into the thick waves at the nape of his neck. A groan interrupted the kiss, Helen uncertain if it was hers or his; then his hands cupped her rear and pulled her hard up and against him.
They kissed sloppily, greedily, and without regard for location or time. Hands were dissatisfied to remain stationary, lips eager to touch and taste every inch of skin already exposed and then to return once more to each other. No doubt, had it been any other season, the pair would've happily fallen against the nearest building and shed clothing right then and there. But the sudden chill of winter creeping between her legs as Theseus' hand moved up the length of her leg, pushing beneath her skirt, was enough of a startle to knock them both from the frenzied daze of desire.
"I, uh," Helen shuddered, licking her lips as she shamelessly swayed back into his arms when Theseus withdrew his hands to a more propitious location on her hips, "I meant to say, I want that too."
Theseus chuckled, one hand coming up to cup her cheek, "I rather understood your meaning, Helen." His gaze darted meaningfully down, taking in the sight of their bodies pressed as intimately together as possible, considering their layers of clothing.
A strange sound from further up the street had them both turning, mirrored expressions of shock appearing on their faces when they saw Afan, Derwyn and Becca, Gruffydd and Lowri, and a half dozen others standing just in the street just outside Afan's pub. The sound, strange as it was, was applause, with a few whistles and hoots joining in now that the audience knew they'd gotten the attention of the players who'd not known they were on a stage. Helen groaned, letting her head fall onto Theseus' chest, hearing Theseus chuckle even as she felt him adjust his hold on her to allow them to resume their walk once she was ready.
"We've got some gooseblood tart and plum pudding out waiting for ya if you're done drinking each other in like Gruffydd drinks the ale." Afan ducked under a playful swing from Gruffydd, his teasing reminder just the thing to pull the group back into the pub.
"Gooseblood tart?" Theseus' eyes widened, looking between the pub's still-open door and Helen.
Helen chuckled, "Aye. It isn't so bad. Best you try at least a bite before you reject it. Afan may kick you out of your room if you don't." She shifted to stand in front of him again, barring his way to the pub. "And I've a mind to join you in that room once we get something to eat and drink. I'm tired as feck, blodyn tatws, and I want to snuggle next to your naked body."
"Well, make sure you tell me exactly what you're thinking, Helen O'Reilly, because I'm not a mind reader. At least not without my wand." Theseus kissed her brow. "What does blodyn tatws mean anyway?"
"Potato flowers." Theseus drew his eyebrows up, lips curved in a confused, though amused smile. "It's a term of endearment, I promise."
"Very well," he tugged her close and resumed their pace toward the pub, "I believe you. But what should I call you? Sheep's wool? Toffee cream?"
"My calon bach would do nicely. May even get you a pint for free if you say it properly and loud enough for everyone to hear. It means my little heart, rather like saying I'm the embodiment of the essence of your soul."
"But I'm potato flowers to you?"
Helen again swerved to stop Theseus, hands coming up to frame his face. Eyes alight with mischief, she spoke between kisses, placing soft caresses on his forehead, temples, cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally, his lips.
"Dwi eisiau rhannu fy mywyd efo chdi. Ti ydy'r unig un i mi. Mi gerddaf gyda thi beth bynnag ddaw. Dwi'n caru chdi." Hands still on either side of his face, Helen grinned, "My potato flowers."
She left him then, hurrying toward the pub, laughing when she heard him rush to catch up, asking her what she'd said aside from potato flowers. Turning in the doorway, her move abrupt enough that he bounced against her body, arms coming down instinctively to hold her against him lest they fall, Helen again grinned at Theseus.
"You should start taking lessons, fy nghariad. Otherwise, there's no telling what our children might be calling you with the likes of Gruffydd and my father around to teach them."
The confusion on Theseus' face lasted mere seconds before the grin he gave her was as bright as the morning sun, which had just begun to peak shyly over the horizon. Her laughter was swallowed into another mind-numbing kiss before the two of them walked arm-in-arm into the festive ruckus of the pub.
Sosej is a Welsh version of sausage used as a term of endearment.
Hen ddwylo means "old hands" and is used as a term of endearment for old people.
Blodyn tatws literally means "potato flowers" and is used as a term of affection.
Calon means "heart; bosom, breast, womb, matrix, belly; entrails; centre, heart of timber, pith, core, essence; seat of feeling, affection, will and intellect; the soul, the spirit; mind, thought," and is used as a term of endearment in the phrases fy ngalon bapur i (my paper heart), and calon bach (little heart).
Dwi eisiau rhannu fy mywyd efo chdi = means "I want to spend my life with you".
Ti ydy'r unig un i mi = you are the only one for me
Mi gerddaf gyda thi beth bynnag ddaw = I will walk with you whatever comes.
Dwi'n caru chdi = I love you
Fy nghariad = My love