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

[triskehale]

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! ♥]

Comments

[shuck_you]

"Am not," he argued, bringing his wrist up to look at it critically. The were bones protruding from the sides but everyone's wrists were like that. He'd put on weight since his arrival and while he'd turned most of that weight into muscle, he knew he was heavier than he had been. His clothes didn't sag on him and didn't make him look like he was about ten years old.

Thomas put his wrist next to hers, comparing the both of them. He pointed to his wrist and then to hers and the mimicked her quiet tsk, adding a waggle of his finger for good measure.

"You're thinner," he pointed out quietly.

[light_of_the_world]

"Am woman," she countered with a sly curve of her lips. She was too thin, for her tastes, for her time, for her world. Thinner now, in the days since returning from the other city. But on television, in magazines and advertisements, she saw that hers was not so far from the bodies on display. More than this, she knew her body and what it could do, the strength in the lean muscle and the allure of long limbs and subtle curves. Her thinness never troubled her.

Hild shrugged, untroubled and still playful, smiling as though she held a secret.

[shuck_you]

"So?" Thomas retorted with a small smile. "So maybe you're supposed to be biologically smaller than me but that doesn't change the fact that you're thin too. If I'm thin, you're thin and that's all there is to it."

Thomas guessed they could both stand to eat a little more, put on some more weight but it wouldn't happen. They were too active, too good at burning off weight with running, walking, fighting, or just moving around. Staying still too long meant they'd have too much time to think about things they'd rather forget.

"You act like I don't eat," Thomas grumbled playfully.

[light_of_the_world]

This was easy. This she could do. She did not have to choose her words so carefully, not with Thomas and not when they were teasing. None of this was important in the way that the cranks or the flare or Valentine or Edwin were. This was simple.

She bumped her shoulder against his, in response to the grumble.

"Do not drink enough," she said. Her tone was even and reasonable, but her smirk was still present. "That gives you a big manly belly."

[shuck_you]

"A big manly belly?" Thomas repeated, laughing. He tried to picture himself with a gut that hung over the waist of his hands, tried to picture how that would do for running and laughed harder.

"You think I'd look better with this big manly belly?" he wondered, glancing over. "Would it make me look like I'm not twelve years old?"

[light_of_the_world]

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, but it was a hard thing and her face reddened slightly with the strain.

"No," Hild said, shaking her head. "You need beard for this. But women love a man with a belly." She grinned. "They are easy to control."

[shuck_you]

"Well, then that's out because I can't grow a beard to save my life," Thomas said, rubbing his chin and shaking his head. He'd spent weeks in the Scorch without a shaver and all he'd come away with was a few wisps of hair on his chin and some erratically scattered hair new his sideburns.

"So, no beard, no belly, and no being controlled by women," Thomas decided with a nod. He tried to imagine himself looking like a chubby lumberjack and couldn't do it. The Scorch had made it nearly impossible to look well fed and full what with its scarcity of food but Thomas could see how easy it'd be to over eat in Darrow. "Guess you'll just have to content yourself with how I look now. Doomed to look twelve for the rest of my life."

[light_of_the_world]

Sighing heavily, Hild cast her eyes upward, thoughtful but also in part beseeching, hoping for some kindly intervention from the gods. None coming, she dropped her gaze down to him again, pouting heavily.

"It pains me," she said, keeping her voice even. "Your face, it pains me. But if this must be, then this must be."

[shuck_you]

"My face pains you?" Thomas repeated, laughing. He touched his face, fingers to chis cheeks, chin, forehead and ears before dropping them and sighing in a long suffering fashion.

"What could I possibly do to make my face not pain you?" he wondered, still amused. "I wouldn't want you to ache every single time you look at me."

[light_of_the_world]

Hild considered this with a tilt of her head. She pressed her lips together, both to show dissatisfaction and to hide the smile that wanted to grow.

"Beard would help," she admitted. "But, maybe, if you grow your hair long." Hild pulled lightly at the hair about his temples, his sideburns, pulling the strands forward. "Yes, maybe this is less painful. Not so pretty then."

[shuck_you]

"I don't wanna grow my hair long," Thomas said petulantly. He kept his hair short because it was easier to manage and it had been practical back in his world. There weren't any convenient places to get haircuts and longer hair met Cranks could grab for it easier, have just one more handhold to keep you near them.

"Short hair's easier to deal with on a daily basis for me," he went on, shaking his head. "I wouldn't know how to manage long hair. It'd just be a mess and I'd get frustrated and cut it off with a knife or something. Short hair's fine. I think you're just jealous of how I look so pretty."