triskehale | thanksgiving is, after all, a word of action [set on 11/26]

thanksgiving is, after all, a word of action [set on 11/26]

Thanksgivings in the Hale house used to be quite the big deal. Feeding over a dozen werewolves, many of them teenagers was no easy feat. Derek loved all the chaos, and he helped out in the kitchen since he was old enough to stand on a step stool and reach the counter.

The first year after everyone died, he and Laura each got a rotisserie chicken and some biscuits, trying to hang on to some semblance of tradition, but the food tasted like ash. Laura went to bed early, and Derek pretended not to hear her cry. They stopped trying to do anything for the holiday after that.

It's been almost a decade since that disastrous attempt, and a few months ago Derek decided that he wanted to try again. While Laura and the rest of his family will always be the cause of this gnawing ache in his heart, Derek has a new family here in Darrow. He has so many people that matter to him, and care about him. It's more than Derek deserves, or ever thought that he would get, but he's grateful. He's thankful.

So he decides that he's going to do his best to put on a Thanksgiving of his own, and invite his new ragtag sort of pack. His new family.

The invitations go out and on the big day, Derek arrives at Semele's just after dawn. He puts two giant turkeys in the oven and quickly sets up the long table and chairs in the middle of the bar. With each chair he places, Derek marvels over just how many people he has in his life. It's astounding to him, and it's the perfect day to show his gratitude.

And then, all that's left to do is cook. And cook, and cook some more. If he's lucky, he'll have time to go shower and put on something nice before all his guests arrive.

[Hale pack Thanksgiving! Treat this as a gathering post. Tag in, tag around, give thanks! ♥]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I clean up nice! I always knew I could if I wanted to, and was prepared to do just that before I was rudely kidnapped into another universe. But, considering the fact that this is a holiday spent with friends, I make the attempt to look nice. So I've put on my cleanest pair of dark jeans, found the one deep blue blouse I own, and even cleaned the dust and specks of mud off my boots. (And mom always badgered me to look presentable whenever we had special family dinners. I can't spend Thanksgiving with her, but I guess still feel close to her in this small way.)

I wasn't lying to Bitty when I said I prepared myself for the meal, and I'm so glad I haven't eaten anything but a bag of chips and a chocolate bar all day. It did sort of backfire a bit when I showed up early to lend a hand with setting the table; I swear the smell of all that food nearly turned me into a ravenous Thanksgiving Zombie or soemthing. It was close.

Heaping my plate with a little bit of everything, I dig into everything with gusto, stuffing my face as I listen to the conversations filling up the bar. There are so many people here, more than I thought, and I'm glad Derek has so many friends. Being surrounded by familiar faces and some strangers makes for one less lonely day, and puts my homesickness at bay for the night.

The tables weren't too crowded. I could've easily found a seat anywhere, but I'd already eaten my fill, already had a few beers. So, I was mostly just teasing her, when I stepped up beside her chair and reached down to steal the roll off of her plate.

She looked ravenous, hunched over her plate and practically inhaling her food, so I couldn't really help myself.

"Rude!" I exclaim, though the word doesn't really translate well around a mouthful of stuffing. Glaring at Neil will have to do until I swallow, and I resist the urge to stab him with my fork. It's not a very thankful gesture.

"Do you want to die?" I ask, shifting my plate away from him. "Do you know how little I ate today just so I could enjoy this? Don't a girl's Thanksgiving plate, McCormick."

"Jesus. Sorry." I snorted out a laugh and dropped the roll back onto her plate. "It's not my fault you starved yourself."

I dropped down into the chair beside her, letting out a satisfied groan.

"I don't think I've seen this much food in my life."

"You and me both," I say as I take the roll he returned and rip off a piece to pop in my mouth, as though eating it would ensure he wouldn't try stealing it again.

I mean, it works. He won't be stealing this particular roll again.

(It's possible hunger has made me temporarily insane.)

"Dishes are gonna be a bitch." Part of me wants to leave early enough to avoid it, but I also want to help Derek out. He fed all of us, it's the least I can do.

"Yeah, I'm getting the fuck out of here before that starts," I said, even though I hadn't made up my mind. I used to help Mom with the dishes, on holidays, and it was never as awful as I sometimes liked to pretend.

The company, at least, could've been worse.

"I'd feel too guilty to do that," I say, tilting my head as I imagine mom standing there beside me, looking disappointed at even the mere thought of me skipping out on dishes.

And...I don't know, I like the idea of staying around to help clean up and do dishes. Thomas and Bitty will probably hang back to help, if I know them at all, and dishes after dinner always feels like family to me.

I'll take whatever family I can get right now.

"You should stay," I tell Neil as I look over at him. "Maybe if I'm not too tired, we can watch a movie afterwards."

"Maybe," I shrugged. I didn't want to make promises, but it didn't sound like a terrible idea.

"I've never done Thanksgiving with more than just me and Mom," I admitted, for some fucking reason. "Sometimes one of her boyfriends would come around, but it was usually just us."

Derek is sort of eating and wandering, talking to people in between stuffing food in his face, but he hasn't actually had a chance to sit down and really eat. When he sees Bianca filling her plate, he excuses himself and goes to do the same, heaping up piles of food and going to join her.

He sits next to her and presses their shoulders together, and then lifts his fork. "Glad you could make it."

"Like I'd miss it," I tell Derek. I try to keep it light, maybe even throw in a scoff, but the words come out completely sincere. Pretty much everyone I know is somehow within Derek's circle as well, and being surrounded by warmth and friends makes up for the family I won't be seeing. I haven't missed my mom this much since I went to science camp.

I look over at his plate, glad to see he's finally stopped fussing and doing the whole good host thing. I know how much he's worked on this all day. If anyone deserves to eat in peace right now, it's Derek. "I hope you plan on staying here until your plate's full. If you get up to help someone, I will tie you down until you finish."

"Is that so?" Derek asks, letting out an amused chuckle and raising his eyebrow in an almost challenging way. "I'd like to see you try."

He leans over and bumps their shoulders together again, leaning in close. "But no, I'm about to eat half of a turkey. Don't you worry about me."

"Don't test me," I tell him easily. Derek may be a werewolf, but I have righteous concern on my side.

I lean back into him briefly, enjoying the contact before I drift away and back to hover over my food. "Are you really? Oh man, how does it work if you eat as a wolf? Are you full when you turn back?"

Probably not the best dinner conversation, but I have a sudden, intense desire to know the answer.

"I'll be slightly less full," Derek says with a chuckle. He's always amused by the random questions that Bianca asks, and he usually has no trouble answering them. She scoops up a forkful of food, and Derek's eyes light up with mischief as he smiles. "One time I ate like, half a deer. I shifted back just to get some relief."

He spears a piece of turkey on his claw and pops it into his mouth. "Good deer, though."

I close my eyes and put my fork down, swallowing hard. I walked right into that one.

"You suck," I tell him, resisting the urge to reach over and punch his arm. I need a little break from my food anyway, and I take a long swig of my apple cider.

Whatever. Since we're here anyway...

"Doesn't it make you sick when you shift back to human, though?"

Derek cackles and steals some of her pie, popping it into his mouth as she sips at her drink. He shakes his head at her question, and takes a drink of his own beer before answering.

"No," he tells her. "Shifting burns a ton of energy, so it sort of speeds up my metabolism even more. I'm usually always starving after a shift, so if I'm too full, going either way could help."

Why do people keep stealing my food?

Ugh, I can't even be that mad about Derek doing so because he looks genuinely happy and it's the best I've seen out of him in weeks, I think.

"So you could eat until you're full, then shift, then eat some more?"

I want that. Everything has been so good that I wish I had a second stomach to eat it all up again.

"You're really concerned with my eating habits," Derek says with a laugh. "But yeah, I guess so. I'd probably wait and digest a bit more, though."

He watches as she stares down at her plate, and lets out a fond chuckle. "You can take home some leftovers, you know."

"I'm just curious," I protest, but I'm sure Derek knows that already, and I know he doesn't mind. He'd tell me if he did, or do a whole frowny, broody face thing. I like happier Derek better.

I nod as I sit back in my seat, giving myself a few minutes to gain my appetite back. "Oh, I know. Believe me, I will be."

"It's okay that you're curious," Derek says with a shrug, which is really his way of saying that he likes it. "It's nice to actually talk about it."

He laughs as she sits back and reaches out to snag a piece of turkey from her plate. "Eyes bigger than you're stomach, huh?

You don't say that sort of thing to a girl who idolized Hermione Granger as a child. I already do my best to keep a mental list of random shit to ask Derek whenever I think about werewolf-related questions.

"My eyes and my stomach are fine." I reach out lazily, smacking Derek's arm with the back of my hand. "They just need to settle for a minute from the wonderful imagery you just hit me with."

(no subject)

triskehale - 2015-12-14 20:22 (UTC) - Expand

Hild sat herself down in the chair beside Bianca, her own plate piled high with food as well. Someone had told her that there would be room for seconds, but Hild did not see the point of standing up again to get more food when her belly could be filled to bursting in one sitting.

She did pause before taking up her fork to brush the fabric of Bianca's shirt with clean fingers. It looked nice and soft, and more feminine than anything Hild had ever seen Bianca in. She gave the other girl a small smirk, not that she ever looked down on anything Bianca wore.

I'm glad when Hild sits down next to me; I would have sought her out anyway when I finished stuffing myself silly. I've been worried about her ever since hearing from Derek that she'd disappeared to that nightmare place as well, and seeing the way they've all changed since coming back has been hard. Mostly because I know I don't have any idea what it was like, and no idea how to comfort anyone.

So this is nice.

I grin when she touches my blouse, and put my fork down to turn a bit in my seat so she can see the whole thing. "Nice, right? It's the only fancy thing I own."

Hild grinned in reply; something about Bianca's honest smile, like Begu's, like Eowyn's, made it difficult for her not to answer in kind. She nodded earnestly at the question, for it was nice but also looked nice on it. She did not look out of place in it, as she had in Hild's dress months ago.

She did however knock her boot against Bianca's, under the table, smirking as she did. Bianca's dressing up only went so far.

There is a part of me that really wants to know what went down in that nightmare Darrow place, having seen how it's messed up most of my friends, but at the same time...I really don't. I don't want to know what could be so fucked up that it would leave Derek scared and Hild mute. The fact that she's chosen to react by not talking worries me, but she seems to be doing okay.

I can talk enough for the both of us.

"I know, I know," I say, kicking my feet a little for the satisfying thud the soles make when they hit the ground. "There are some things I just can't let go of. Comfortable shoes is at the top of that list."

Her smirk grew to a grin at the sound of Bianca's boots, nearly a laugh, but she restrained herself from this. Instead she straightened and nodded in an approving fashion, for comfortable shoes were very important and Bianca would have been a fool to think otherwise. Hild did not make friends with fools.

She tilted her head with a questioning look, her chestnut hair falling back off her shoulder, and tapped at her own earring, wondering if Bianca liked jewelry very much.

It might make a good gift, one day.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only