12 Days of Christmas - Day 8 - The Bookshelf - The Core-Four (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited.

“Maybe we should just wait and call the handyman we saw on the back of that truck yesterday,” Zane said carefully. 

He sat curled on the overpriced chair that was–essentially–a giant bean bag in a fur coat, huddled beneath a thick blanket, while the storm raged outside. The chair swallowed him whole, all soft curves and faux luxury, his bare feet barely peeking out from beneath the blanket as he shifted.

Zane had never been so cozy. The fireplace crackled, the white lights in the garland and on the Christmas tree twinkled, Felix’s cinnamon roll candle burned somewhere nearby making Zane’s stomach growl with its realism. It smelled aggressively like sugar and butter and nostalgia for a childhood he'd never have. It was soft, unusually peaceful. 

Quiet.

Too quiet.

Zane missed his babies. He missed the weight of them, the constant noise, the way silence never lasted more than thirty seconds in a house with toddlers. He missed listening to Asa & Avi rough-house with them, missed them refusing to eat the same foods they loved the day before. Everything really.

But from what Dad said, they were not missing him…or any of them. Apparently, Grandpas' house was more fun. They'd instituted something called “dessert before dinner,” which felt illegal but unsurprising. But what could he do? Zane was grateful they still had one normal set of grandparents now that his former father was MIA and his mother had been slow-roasted. Especially since he still hadn’t decided whether to reach out to his own father.

His real father.

But that was a worry for the new year, not now, not here, not when he could be cozy and content with the people he loved. All of them. He tugged the blanket tighter, Felix’s knee warm against his thigh, grounding him.

“He’s right, this is starting to look pretty dire,” Felix said, sipping his mulled wine, curled up beside Zane under the blanket in the chair they’d taken to affectionately calling ‘the poof’. Felix smelled like fall and tasted faintly like cloves and oranges, his curls still slightly damp from their rushed shower earlier.

They were in the kids’ new playroom, staring down at a thousand screws, an allen wrench and several slats of what Zane could only assume was particle board. The pieces were laid out with good intentions and zero follow-through, instructions discarded somewhere under a pile of bubble wrap and optimism. A short-term solution to a minor timing issue.

The insanely overpriced custom bookshelves they’d ordered for the playroom were coming from a carpenter in Italy. They’d emailed to say there was a ‘supply chain breakdown’ and he wouldn’t be able to finish and ship the product for at least another three months. The email had included several apologies, three photos of unfinished wood, and one very artistic shot of the Italian countryside, as if that helped.

The solution had been the world’s most inefficient trip to IKEA Zane had ever experienced. While Zane and Felix had spent most of their lives like normal people—people who bought affordable furniture—Asa and Avi had spent their lives assuming that whatever they needed just appeared before them like magic. Possibly because, historically, it had. They'd seemed quite put out to know that sometimes, they didn't get what they wanted.

Felix and Zane had wanted to go alone. They’d envisioned a peaceful, child-free trip where they could shop at their leisure and maybe have lunch at a cafe somewhere, hold hands and browse to their hearts content. Instead, their husbands had demanded to see this IKEA place they’d heard so much about, like it was a local attraction and not a store visited by thousands of people a day.

To them, it might as well have been Narnia.

Asa spent the whole time commenting on everything from the parking lot design to the flow of traffic within the store.

Why is the exit nowhere near the entrance?

Who puts a cafe in a furniture store?

Why Swedish meatballs?

What even is a Swedish meatball?

Meanwhile, Avi darted around picking up and examining everything from plushies to forks, studying them like ancient artifacts until Felix would pry them from his hands. Instead of two whiny toddlers, they had Avi, who was the equivalent of six hyper-active toddlers hopped up on sugar, begging to buy every gadget he saw, throwing a fit when he was told no, and pouting until he got Swedish meatballs.

Which, to be fair, were delicious.

A trip for one bookshelf had turned into a near thousand dollar expense and a house full of cheap—but convenient—household goods that Avi had huddled over in the cart like a dragon with a hard-on for home goods. Oh, God. HomeGoods. Zane could only imagine the damage Avi would do in a store like that. They’d need a second home and maybe an intervention.

Asa scoffed, glowering at one of several screws scattered across the hardwood like it owed him money. He picked it up, turned it between his fingers, then dropped it again like it had personally betrayed him. “I’m an architect. This fucking $60 shelf is not going to best me. I went to Cornell.”

“Are you hoping to intimidate the bookshelf with your CV?” Zane asked, earning a giggle from Felix who snuggled closer beneath the blanket, their legs tangled together. Felix’s toes were cold against Zane’s calf, and Zane tucked them under his thigh without thinking.

“I also went to Cornell,” Avi reminded him with a smirk, “and I gave up on those instructions on page two.”

Asa waved a dismissive hand. “You went for fashion. I went for architecture. This is literally my job.”

It was, in fact, not his husband’s job to put together cheap furniture, but to build skyscrapers. The two weren’t even remotely similar. Okay, Zane could see the correlation from an engineering standpoint, but that didn’t mean Asa could put together a bookshelf…did it? There was a big difference between drafting a forty-story tower and deciphering a cartoon man holding an allen wrench.

Zane hid a smile behind his hot chocolate. The mug was warm against his palms, marshmallows floating along the top, the steam fogging his glasses just enough to make everything feel soft around the edges. “It’s okay to admit defeat.”

He knew Asa would never, ever do that. But sometimes Zane got off on poking the bear. Especially when the bear was beautiful, dramatic, and currently being humbled by particle board. Also when the bear liked spanking him for his smart mouth. 

Asa shot him a pouty look. “Et tu, Lois? Et tu?”

His favorite phrase to use any time Zane had an opinion that was counter-intuitive to his.

Zane’s face softened. He shifted forward, resting his elbow on his knee, voice dropping just a touch. “Baby, this is clearly stressing you out.”

“Maybe if you weren’t all staring at me…” he sulked. He gestured vaguely at the room like they’d assembled an audience just to judge him.

“We’re only here because you invited us,” Felix reminded him in a sing-song voice. He leaned his head against Zane’s shoulder, smiling into the blanket.

“Yeah, you said, and I quote, ‘Want to come watch me make this IKEA shelf my bitch.’ End quote,” Zane said around a laugh.

Felix nodded. “Yeah, Zane and I were gonna get bundled up and make the arduous journey across the neighborhood to see the Prince shrine in the gazebo. Apparently someone decorated it for Christmas. Noah said it’s very festive.”

Felix nodded again, warming to the topic. “Yeah, supposedly there’s reindeer, some elves and a tiny Santa hat glued to Prince’s picture.” He paused. “Not taped. Glued.”

The neighborhood stressed Noah out but since the others had moved there, they’d taken to treating their neighbors like a zoo exhibit. Noah had compared it to Twin Peaks and he wasn’t wrong. The people of Serenity Grove were off-putting on a good day. There were no dancing little people or people talking backwards but there were other things that made absolutely no sense…and Zane had grown up in the suburbs. This wasn’t normal suburban weird. This was curated. Intentional. Upper-middle-class weird.

“I owe Noah an apology…maybe Adam too. This neighborhood is fucking cracked, right?” Avi asked. 

Asa scoffed. “You’re telling me. The older part of the neighborhood is…bizarre. Have you noticed the roads on that side of the neighborhood?”

“The roads?” Felix asked, like he hadn’t anticipated the sharp left turn in the conversation.

“I know you didn’t notice the roads. You barely notice the pedestrians,” Asa muttered.

“Or stop signs,” Avi added.

Asa snorted. “Or traffic lights…” 

“Traffic cones…speed limit signs…” Avi continued. 

Felix gasped like they’d slapped him in the face. “I’m a good driver now!” He lifted his head, indignant. “I am. I haven’t had any accidents in over a year. Not even a fender-bender. And I use my blinker religiously.”

“That’s not a flex, kitten,” Avi said. “Most people don’t have a fender-bender every year, much less four. You don’t get a prize for not hitting people. Though maybe you should.” 

“I still maintain that last one hit me,” Felix shot back, face flushing with righteous fury. 

“They were in front of you, baby,” Zane reminded him gently.

Felix gasped. “They could have reversed into me!” When Asa and Avi laughed in tandem, Felix cried, “What? It happens! Stop laughing. It does!” 

Zane let his gaze slide away to the dancing flames of the fireplace in the next room. The fire popped softly, sending a warm pulse through the house, the light throwing slow shadows that stretched and shrank along the walls.

“I am,” Felix said again quietly, almost like he was now trying to convince himself.

“You are…” Zane said, trying—and failing—to sound encouraging. “Much improved.”

Felix sucked in a sharp breath, clutching at his chest dramatically, slumping back into the poof like a Victorian child with a fainting couch. “How can you say that?”

Zane put his arm around Felix, pulling him into a hug. Felix immediately melted into it, chin tucking under Zane’s jaw, fingers curling into the front of his sweater. “It’s just that you don’t get many chances to practice and that’s okay. You have us to drive you anywhere you need to go. And we love you.”

“Even if you are the worst driver we’ve ever seen,” Avi said, beaming at him like it was an accomplishment. He said it with genuine fondness, like Felix’s terrible driving was just another charming quirk to collect. For Avi, it was. Felix was perfect in his eyes. No matter how many cars he’d wrecked. 

“Wow,” Felix said, glowering at them. His ears were pink now, whether from embarrassment or the mulled wine, it was hard to tell.

“Felix,” Asa said, his tone matter-of-fact. “I’ve seen blind people who drive better than you. It is what it is. You’ve got lots of other things going for you. You’re talented, smart, funny—though usually unintentionally—and you’re a total smokeshow. Nobody cares that you’re the literal worst driver we’ve ever known.”

“You guys should stop helping,” Zane said. He rubbed Felix’s arm soothingly, thumb tracing slow circles over his soft skin.

“What were we even talking about?” Felix mumbled, taking another sip of his drink. The mug clinked softly against his teeth.

“The roads. We were talking about the roads,” Avi said. 

“Yeah,” Asa said. “It’s odd. It’s like they were built around the houses and the houses were built around…something else.”

“Isn’t there a community garden in the center of the old neighborhood?” Zane asked. “Isn’t that what Adam’s geriatric besties are always beefing over?”

Asa nodded. “Yeah, but it’s more like the community garden was built to cover up something in a space that already existed. It wasn’t part of the urban landscape. The neighborhood wasn’t designed to be self-sustaining, it’s not like an eco-build. And houses in developments like this usually plot the land, build the roads, then start building. This is like they built the houses, then just created the roads to accommodate them.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through the academic explanation.

“Huh,” Felix said. “That does seem kind of strange.” He shifted closer, knees brushing Zane’s thigh, unconsciously seeking contact as the conversation drifted toward unsettling.

“Yeah, and it gets weirder,” Asa said. “Adam said that every single basement on that side of the development looks identical.”

Zane frowned. “Why is that weird? Don’t most of these developments have the same builder?”

Asa nodded, but still looked disturbed. “He said they aren’t similar. They’re identical. Same depth, same square footage, same central layout. He said you can’t tell one basement from the other. He called it disorienting. Said he thinks they all connect somehow.”

The room went quiet for half a beat, the fire crackling louder in the pause.

“Connect? Like underground tunnels?” Felix asked, leaning forward a little, like he was hoping for some good gossip. His eyes were bright now, curiosity overriding his earlier indignation.

Avi scoffed. “Noah is right. This place does make people crazy. I’ve never heard of an architectural conspiracy.” He flopped onto his back on the floor beside the abandoned pile of wood-like pieces, staring at the ceiling.

Asa rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m telling you, it’s weird. This whole place is fucking weird.”

Zane bit back a smile as he asked, “Are you implying that there’s some secret geriatric cabal building underground tunnels…for what?” He tightened his arm around Felix instinctively, playfully, like he was cowering at the ridiculous notion.

Felix’s eyes sparkled as he suggested, “Worshipping Satan?”

“Aren’t they a little old to be devil worshippers?” Avi asked. “Do you age out of that, or…?”

Felix shrugged. “Never too old for hobbies.”

Zane shrugged. “Weren’t all the devil worshippers old in Rosemary’s Baby? Maybe the real mystery is why so many old people turn to Satanism after retirement. Maybe you don’t age out, you age in? Is that a thing?” 

“So does this mean Adam’s murder plot could be connected to the community garden and the community garden is run by devil worshippers? All of whom are connected by underground tunnels?” Avi asked, grinning.

He looked delighted by the idea, like he’d just unlocked a secret bonus level.

Asa rolled his eyes. “Don’t believe me. I don’t care. But I’m telling you, this neighborhood—and these people—are fucking hiding something.” 

He jabbed a finger at the half-assembled shelf like it was personally responsible for the mystery.

“Boy, the paranoia catches on fast here,” Zane said. “Maybe there’s hallucinogenics in the water supply?”

Felix shrugged. “I definitely didn’t hallucinate the Prince shrine. And Noah said that the neighbors went carolling—”

“Carolling? Like the singing in unison on people’s doorsteps? People do that in real life?” Avi asked, seeming genuinely shocked. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Felix said. “I mean, they didn’t in my neighborhood but large crowds gathering outside anyone’s door on that side of town was likely to be met with deadly force.”

“Even if they were singing Christmas songs?” Zane asked.

“Especially then,” Felix said. 

He shuddered dramatically, burrowing deeper into Zane’s chest.

Avi had a kind of befuddled look on his face when he said, “Who created caroling in the first place? And…why? Singing in unison is weird.”

“Cults love singing,” Zane offered mildly, just putting it out there.

“Yeah, Noah said they weren’t going door to door, just standing on people’s sidewalks and singing old-timey Christmas songs in a weird monotone voice,” Felix said with a shiver. “Like…too synchronized.”

“Maybe they’re just bad singers?” Asa asked.

Felix shrugged. “Noah said it felt more like a…ritual.”

“So we’ve come full circle back to devil worshippers? Or do we suspect witches? I thought witches had rebranded and were now all like woosah and carrying crystals in their bras or whatever?” Avi said.

He mimed jingling something imaginary, probably boobs. Avi loved boobs. Most men did. Even the ones who didn't like the women attached to them. It was a strange phenomenon that Zane thought should be studied by scientists.

Felix rolled his eyes. “I’m fairly certain there’s more to witchcraft than that.”

“I’m starting to long for the days when Adam just suspected old people murdering each other over flowers and not that we might be living on a hellmouth,” Zane joked. 

He pressed a kiss into Felix’s hair, inhaling the faint scent of cinnamon and wine. He couldn’t help himself. The more the alcohol warmed him, the more his hands roamed and the closer Felix got. If he could have purred like a cat, he would.

“We have to leave soon,” Zane reminded Asa, staring pointedly at what would—theoretically—one day be a usable bookshelf. The tree lights reflected faintly in his glasses, making him look softer than usual.

Asa huffed out a noise of frustration, then snatched the booklet full of pictures and directions, glaring down at it like he could intimidate it into snapping together like magic furniture out of a children’s movie. He narrowed his eyes, muttering under his breath in what Zane recognized as Asa’s ‘deeply offended by inanimate objects’ voice.

For ten whole minutes, Asa built the furniture without issue before his face once more formed a scowl. The only sounds were the soft clink of metal, the fire popping, and Felix and Zane’s lips meeting and parting as they kissed softly.

“Attach panel B to panel GG,” Asa said out loud, scanning the pieces of wood scattered about. “There is no GG. There’s no GG! Are these people just fucking with me?”

“You think you can get this done before we’re due at dad’s house?” Avi asked, toeing at a piece of wood on the ground. He nudged it gently, like it might bite.

“Think you can get it done before the real piece shows up from Italy in three months?” Felix snarked.

Asa growled at Felix, baring his teeth. Felix blew him a kiss. 

Zane laughed softly, catching Felix’s eye. There was something warm and familiar in that look — shared history, shared exhaustion, shared love. When he leaned in, Zane did too, their lips connecting once more in a kiss that lingered, before Felix settled his head on Zane’s chest. He wrapped both arms around him without thinking, weirdly grateful to be warm and cozy as the storm howled outside.

For a moment, the weird neighborhood, the unfinished shelf, and their turncoat toddlers faded into the background. 

"Should I start filming?" Avi suggested, voice positively salacious.

Zane and Felix separated with a longing sigh.

“Fuck it, I’m just gonna chuck this in the trash. It’s clearly defective,” Asa sulked.

Before Zane could respond, his phone rang. He frowned. “Lucas? Did we get the time wrong or something?”

“You’d know if you answered the phone, Lois,” Asa said, still glaring at the wood pile.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Asa Mulvaney,” Zane snapped, sliding to answer his phone even as he shot his husband a warning look.  “Hey, what’s—”

Lucas cut him off. “Cricket’s in labor.”

“What? I mean, cool. She’s overdue,” Zane said, confused. “Isn’t that how babies usually get here?”

Lucas huffed in annoyance. “No, she’s in labor and driving to the mansion.”

“Again, was that not the plan?” Zane said, shaking his head, giving the others a look even though they could only hear his side of the conversation.

“She’s driving herself!” Lucas shouted into his ear.

Adrenaline shot through Zane’s whole body. “Oh, fuck. Okay, shit. Uh, okay. We’ll get dressed and head to the mansion.”

“Dressed?” Lucas yelped, before saying, “Why are you–You know what? Not the time. Just please get there as soon as you can. I need all hands on deck for this.”

Zane nodded even though Lucas couldn’t see him. “I’m sure she’s already there or almost. It will be fine. Totally fine. It’s all gonna be fine.”

Even if there was a storm raging outside and a pregnant woman in active labor driving herself to the hospital. Totally fine. All good. Fucking hell. This was so not like her, yet somehow also entirely like her. Too independent, trying to do it all on her own. 

Zane disconnected the call.

“Looks like the bookshelf will have to wait until after Christmas. Cricket is in labor and apparently driving herself to Dad’s.”

“Oh, no, we can’t build the bookshelf,” Felix said in the same monotone voice Zane imagined the carollers singing in. “That’s terrible.”

“I didn’t see you building anything, smart mouth,” Asa said.

“You loved this mouth well enough last night,” Felix shot back.

“I love your mouth all the time,” Zane said, kissing him again.

“Suck up,” Asa mumbled. 

They ignored him. Felix pulling back to say, “Aw, I love yours too.”

“Not to interrupt the mutual love fest but shouldn’t you two put some clothes on?” Avi asked, glancing at his watch. "Its cold as fuck outside and you're both naked."

“Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

The room shifted then, their bubble breaking like glass. The fire still crackled, the lights still twinkled, but the moment had passed. Something bigger now taking its place.

Zane stood, tugging Felix up with him, hoping they’d unpacked enough to have something comfortable but appropriate for Dad's Christmas eve plans. Though, he imagined dinner was canceled.

By the time they were dressed and presentable, Asa and Avi were waiting at the front door, already reaching for coats, for keys.

Behind them, the unfinished bookshelf sat in pieces on the floor–forgotten, unimportant.

Family came first.

Always.