My Home From Home - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

24 December 1920
Dear Diary,
Great-Grandpapa always told us that whilst serving as Viceroy in India, the Christmas season was always the hardest to get through; with being so far from family and all. Though he often said that having a large community of other colonial officers from Britain alongside their families meant that they'd carry out the usual traditions that they would have back home, there still was always something missing.
One simply can't help but relate to Great-Grandpapa, especially as one find's oneself so far from home. I miss my family so terribly; I miss watching the servants decorate the house with boughs of fir and holly, bring in a tree sent lovingly by Mama's dear cousin, the King of Norway, sneaking down to the kitchens every night and stuffing my trouser pockets with mince pies. I miss the villagers coming to Aldringham Manor and singing carols, serving them mulled wine and mince pies. The annual Christmas Ball for the servants, giving them presents on Boxing Day, visiting our cousins in Argyll for their Annual New Year's Hogmanay.
But perhaps the most peculiar bit for me is that fact that I don't miss it as much as I feel I ought to. In a way, I feel like the Christmas season here in Fir Creek has a charm in and of itself; though it might sound terribly counter-intuitive to say, it almost feel homelier than Christmas back home. We've decorated the surgery and the police station along with the private living areas and the kitchen, which I must admit is a first for me; back home, usually the footmen and housemaids did the decorating around the house but there was something cosy and warm about getting hands on whilst decorating. It helps one to truly get into the spirit of the season.
Thomas and I have been closer than ever lately; as the prairies continue to descend into the nadir of the brutal Canadian winters, the cravings of each others' body warmth, and gentle tender touch seems to reach its zenith. But alongside my Mountie, I've also grown even closer to his boys. Though it might sound terribly foolish, I can't help but feel as though I am their parent of sorts; is that terribly odd to say?
I help Thomas with everything from looking after them, feeding them, changing nappies, putting them to bed. I even went round to the shops to buy little Danny an advent Advent calendar and a few toys to gift them both on Christmas morning. In return I feel as though they also are reciprocating this almost guardian-like relationship; lately I seem to be the only one who can calm Alfie when he's fussy and Danny has been a dear; helping me baking mince pies, biscuits, even helping me on Stir Up Sunday to make Christmas Pudding.
Yes, I, Henry Aldringham, the same lad who didn't even know how to make a cuppa managed to successfully follow Thomas' family cookbook recipe for Christmas Pudding; mind you without burning it anything. It is quite the feat and I'm terribly proud of it, which might be terribly common to admit. I've wrapped it in a cloth and left it to hang in the cupboard, pulling it out every week to feed it with a bit of brandy.
Every night we sit by the fire, Thomas on one side of the chimneypiece with little Danny cuddled into his lap whilst I am sat on the other side, feeding little Alfie his bottle. I don't know why or how, but without even me realising it I've managed to find myself a family; and though we carry no real relation, neither in blood nor on paper, I can't help but feel as they are kin to me. A home from home. As the Bible says, 'the blood of the Covenant is thicker than the water of the womb', and this family whom I've found and chosen, I daresay is as strong as my own blood.
Love, Henry.
Henry sauntered out his bedroom door and towards the nursery with a smile plastered across his pretty face; he had loads to do between now and Christmas morning, preparing the roast for Christmas lunch, baking mince pies for Father Christmas, Christmas cookies for the Church Christmas fête and putting the presents under the tree, all the while caring for little Danny and Alfie which was always a pleasure for him.
"Danny, love?" Henry knocked his knuckles against the wooden doorframe, peeking his head into the nursery to see little Danny sitting in his bed and playing with his toy train. He glanced up through the soft blond hair that'd fallen into his deep brown eyes. "If you're up to it, I'd love some help baking." Henry said with a little playful emphasis on the word 'baking'; he'd learnt as of recently that baking was Danny's new favourite pastime. As well, he'd found it to be his own favourite pastime.
Danny leapt up with a pure grin running form ear to ear, his hair bouncing as he rushed over towards Henry and hugged the raven haired young man's legs. Henry simple chuckled at that, feeling a rush of warmth through his heartstrings as he reached down to ruffle the boy's soft fair hair. Bending over he scooped the little boy into his arms, placing a chaste kiss on his tender cheek as he made his way towards the stairwell and descended down towards the kitchens.
"Alright, mate. You sit right here, and I'll bring everything we'll need, okay?" Henry ruffled the little blond boy's hair once again as he got settled at the kitchen table leaving Henry to stalk over to the pantry to get the eggs, flour, and sugar.
As he stood inside the draughty pantry, he glanced around at the shelves, one by one collecting everything he reckoned he'd need. In the past few weeks since Advent started, Henry had come to the realisation that though he'd experienced many Christmases, he'd never truly experienced Christmas; not truly. Most of the work was done by servants back home, but this year he found himself getting his hands dirty for the first time ever; decorating the house, helping with church events, and baking. He'd lost count of how many batches of biscuits and mince pies he'd baked, most of the time rather successfully he'd add.
"Baking again, eh?" Henry felt himself go weak in the knees as he heard Thomas' husky whisper in his right ear, enthralling his senses; he'd been so awfully focused on gathering ingredients that he hadn't a clue when the handsome fair haired man had managed to slip into the pantry.
Henry nodded, feeling Thomas' strong body press up against his from behind; the young constable's muscular arms engulfing Henry's slender body as the raven haired boy felt his body melt and morph into Thomas'. He moaned quietly as Thomas nuzzled into the nape of his neck, placing small pecks up towards his jaw which got more and more heated with each passing kiss.
"We shouldn't..." Henry whispered between between kisses. "Danny, he..." He trailed off, feeling the lust cloud over his psyche.
"I shut the door, he won't see anything..." Thomas teased playfully, holding Henry by the waist and spinning him around so they were now face to face; snaking his arm around Henry's waist  and pulling him tightly as though he'd disappear should he let go.
"It's not that..." Henry's eyes rolled into the back of his head and Thomas continued to suck on the nape of his neck. "Well, obviously yes, that is partially the issue." He rambled on between moans. "It's just... Danny's been so looking forward to helping me bake, I don't want to keep him waiting."
Thomas stopped abruptly, his lips losing contact with Henry's skin as he pulled back to gazing into Henry's dimly lit eyes. He reached his hand up and cupped Henry's face, pushing the mess of black hair up and out of his face.
"Is it odd that you talking like that only arouses me even more?" Thomas asked, licking his lips seductively as he leant in and rested his forehead on Henry's.
"How do you mean?" Henry furrowed his brows as he grazed his fingers over Thomas' stubble.
"Something about you being so caring towards Danny and Alfie makes me feel even more..." Thomas trailed off as his eyes locked in on Henry's sapphire blues, his plump lightly parted lips, his slender neck.
In love with you. Thomas thought to himself, but he hesitated to let that slip past his lips. Was it love? That giddy feeling of discombobulation he felt whenever Henry was near, the addictiveness of his body, the warm flutter in his heart whenever he entered the room; the inexplicable sensation that he was the only sole light source in Thomas' light. He'd read of love in books and seen it in films at the cinema; but he only had seen love between a man of a woman. He knew he only felt attraction towards men, but was it possible to love another man? Does it work that way?
"Enthralled... by you..." Thomas chose his word carefully before placing a chaste kiss on Henry's enticing lips. Henry hesitated for a second, feeling a pang within his chest as he wasn't expecting that word. He expected a very different word, though he also feared it. For him intimacy never led to love, only physical attraction that never ventured into the emotions. He knew that Charles and James were in love, but he never himself felt true love.
"Really, Thomas I need to go, Danny" Henry rolled his eyes playfully as Thomas leant in for another kiss.
"Alright, fine." Thomas pouted playfully, miming a tear down his chiseled cheek. "But tonight, you're all mine."
"Cheeky..." Henry smirked shaking his head before gathering the ingredients he needed and carried them out in his arms towards the kitchen. He felt a strange warmth in his chest as he watched the little blond haired boy at the kitchen table smile wide at him, his eyes clearly brightening at the sight of Henry emerging from the pantry. He couldn't even begin to explain how happy it made him that  Danny and Alfie were so comfortable with him with him despite him not truly being anything to them; but in a way he felt this paternal protective feeling about him.
He'd always felt a soft corner for the two young boys, but something about sitting by Danny's bedside as he nursed him through his nasty bout with diphtheria that truly forged an attachment that almost seemed parental in a sense. He enjoyed bonding with Danny like this, though he knew better than to let a mere toddler actually do much, he enjoyed allowing Danny to think he was doing it all. He'd let Danny use the stencils to make circles and spoon in the mincemeat filling after Henry had put it into a muffin tin. And though Henry didn't actually need the help, he enjoyed making Danny feel important even if it was for the smallest thing.
Henry leant down to kiss the little lad chastely atop his soft blond hair as wee Danny sat busily pressing the star shaped stencil against the pastry dough to make the little shapes to go atop each mince pie. But as he did so, he couldn't help but feel as though he was being watched; he cocked his head to the side, glancing momentarily behind him to see Thomas leant up against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest with his shirt rolled up just enough to give Henry a show of his definedforearms.
Thomas looked so content in that moment, with a slight smile over his handsome face; his dimples only slightly peeking through on his chiseled hollow cheeks. Henry cocked a brow at him perplexedly, only for Thomas to shake his head at him with a smile, casually stalking up silently behind Henry and Danny. He gently grazed his hand against the small of Henry's back and snuck a quick kiss on Henry's cheek, making the raven haired lad gasp; a tinge of red permeating across his otherwise alabaster cheeks.
"These are looking really good, bud. You helping Henry out?"" Thomas ruffled Danny's soft blond hair, watching fondly as his little son turned his head towards him and nodded; blinking his innocent brown eyes up at his dad. "Good lad." Thomas smiled back, leaning down and kissing the boy softly on the head all the while Henry looked on with a soft smile blooming over his lips so red like an English rose
They finished up baking the mince pies and sugar cookies for the night while Thomas kept a large pot of mulled wine mulling on the stove; Henry couldn't help but be amused by this, in a so called 'dry province' he found that home made wines and spirits that weren't technically 'sold' seemed to be terribly easy to come by. Ironically enough the town Constable himself seemed unfazed by this underground market.
Putting on their best clothes, they set off for the church attend Midnight Mass and when it concluded they trudged back home through the bleak midwinter snow; passing by the the wreathes on the doors and gaily decorated Christmas trees in the windows. They started in a mass of parishioners as one by one each family split off to go into their own houses and soon enough it was just the four of them walking through the dark winter night; their breath fogging up the air around them as they shuddered form the icy tundra wind.
"Did you enjoy Midnight Mass?" Asked Thomas, his voice seeming to waver ever so slightly as the frigid midnight air seemed penetrate through the very fibres of his overcoat.
"Yes, I did, rather. Midnight Mass has always been a tradition for my family; it's nice to think that despite things being so different here, there are some things that are the same." Henry smiled, tugging his toque over his dark hair to keep his ears warm from the snowy bluster. "Did you enjoy Mass."
"Bittersweet, really." Shrugged Thomas, his eyes lowered down to the snow dusted path their boots treaded over. "I have so many fond memories of walking through the snow with my mom, dad and sister to attend Midnight Mass, in a way it makes me miss even more than I already do while also letting me revive those cherished memories."
"You must miss them terribly..." Henry said softly as the handsome young blond gave him a tight lipped smile and a nod; Thomas was ever the fortress when it came to discussing his feelings, but as of late as he'd grown closer to Henry he'd sometimes let little memories of his family snip through the cracks. "Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your family Christmas, I truly appreciate it."
"It's our pleasure. I wouldn't dream of having it any other way." Thomas whispered to Henry with a dimpled, swoon-worthy smile, glancing down at a slumbering little Danny on his hip whilst Henry carried a very cosily swaddled baby Alfie in his arms to protect him from the gently flying snow. "Fancy some mulled wine when we've tucked these two sleepyheads into bed?"
"Do you even need to ask?" Smirked Henry cheekily as he glanced around at the winter tranquility; at the way the four of them braved the midwinter night. They felt like a family, they looked like a family; though much as most people at the time did, everyone around remained blissfully ignorant that behind closed doors Henry and Thomas lived like a family.
They made their way up the stairs to the nursery, tiptoeing with the boys in their arms and mindful not to wake them. Henry checked Alfie's nappy and changed it whilst Thomas stripped Danny out of his Church clothes and slipped on his little pyjamas. They tucked each boy into bed, kissing them on the forehead as they prepared to take their leave; but just as Henry leant down and kissed little Danny atop his soft blond hair the wee toddler stirred ever so slightly.
"Henwy?" Danny whispered groggily, earning him a hum of acknowledgement from the raven haired young man. "What about Santa Claus' min-"
"Don't worry, love." A smile crept over Henry's face. "I'll be sure to leave the mince pies and a glass of mulled wine for Father Christmas, And!" Henry cut him off teasingly, noting that the little boy had parted his lips to add something. "I'll be sure to leave carrots for the reindeer as well. Lord knows they'd need it, it's a long journey back to Lapland."
"The Norf Pole!" Huffed Danny adamantly, making Henry smile at his adorable little tantrum.
"Yes of course! The North Pole! How silly of me!" Henry playfully gasped and slammed his hand against his forehead dramatically. "Now you go back to sleep, love Or Father Christmas won't come round!" Henry whispered sing-songily, earning him an enthusiastic nod from Danny as Henry chuckled and lovingly pushed Danny's soft hair back out of his forehead. "Good night, love." And with the they switched off the lights and crept out into the corridor and well into the stairwell.
"Right, I'll fetch the presents out the cupboard and you get the mulled wine and mince pies." Henry whispered excitedly as they tiptoed down the stairs; the grin in his face so wide it hurt his cheeks.
They parted ways and reconvened into the drawing room where the Christmas tree was; tastefully decorated with a thin gold tinsel spiralling down it's fir branches, beautifully coloured glass baubles hanging off it's boughs and a porcelain angel tree-topper. The room was cosy, and though the snow gently fell beyond the lightly frosted windows, the warmth and the dancing flames of the fire kept them toasty with its radiating heat and ambient glow.
Henry placed the presents under the tree with care whilst Thomas brought the glasses of mulled wine and mince pies from the kitchen. Thomas couldn't help but smile as he set the glasses onto a side table near the arm chair by the fire before sitting down himself; beckoning the dark haired young doctor towards him with a glass of mulled wine stretched out for him.
"Thank you, I rather needed this." Henry huffed as he took the glass out of Thomas' hand and took a hearty sip of it's spiced warm wine. "Crikey, that's strong." Henry recoiled at the rather strong mulled wine. "This is different from the traditional mulled wine; what is that?" He cocked an inquisitive brow at the young Constable.
"Caribou." Thomas smiled as the raven haired lad sat himself down in Thomas' lap.
"Like the animal?!" Henry's eyes widened in horror.
"No, no." Thomas pursed his lips to stop from smiling at that; curling his arm around Henry's waist to pull him close, as they sat close to the fire's glowing warm light. "It's an old Québécois tradition around this time of year; wine, whiskey, cinnamon, and maple syrup."
"You lot and your maple syrup." Henry smirked, shaking his head as he took another sip of the warm liquid.
"What was Christmastime like for you, growing up?" Thomas asked as he dabbed a bit of blood red wine off from above his his upper lip with the back of his hand.
"Well, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary." Henry hummed, glancing up towards the ceiling as though recalling memories of Christmases past. "We had Advent calendars, Advent wreaths, a Christmas tree in the Great Hall, and one in the drawing room for presents to. Mostly the servants doing all the real work and us gorging ourselves on mince pies and mulled wine. We'd write letters to Father Christmas and throw them into the fire so they'd go up to his grotto in Lapland." Henry's eyes softened and a smile crept over his mouth as he remembered all those cherished moments. "We'd come back from Midnight Mass at the old church in the village and set out mince pies, mulled wine, and carrots for Father Christmas; then we'd and wake up Christmas morning to presents. But we had strict instructions not to  touch them until after Christmas lunch; a traditional roast followed by a lovely Christmas Pudding with fresh custard."
"Nothing out of the ordinary, eh?" Teased Thomas with a cheeky grin.
"What?! I'd say that's terribly normal." Henry playfully rolled his eyes at that. "Though when I was younger, whilst my Great-Grandmama was alive, we'd spend Christmas eve in Windsor Castle with Mama's side of the family. We always had Christmas Eve dinner there and open presents right after." He said casually, as though he wasn't referring to his Great-Grandmama the Queen Victoria whose likeness was on statues, government buildings, banknotes and the like across the Empire.
"Presents, on Christmas Eve!?" Thomas cocked an eyebrow curiously. "Isn't that a bit... German...?"
"I suppose, yes. That's one of the reasons the Royal Family's name was changed from Hanover to Windsor in light of the war." Henry sighed, it was something the Royal Family and even fringe members like him had to deal with since the war; appearing awfully German whilst ruling over subjects who lost sons at the hands of the Germans. "Now enough about me, what about you? What was Christmas like for you growing up?"
"It was my favourite time of year." Thomas allowed a smile to blossom over his handsome face as he gazed down at the empty crystal wine-glass in his hand which seemed to catch the reflection of the dancing flames across from him in the hearth. "Decorating the house with Dad, baking with mom, going to Church Christmas fêtes. Mostly just all being together. Just me, my sister, and our parents but that was all we needed; we had each other..." Henry frowned as a look of empathy washed over his face; he could see the tears pooling in Thomas' deep brown eyes which prompted him to reach over and take his hand in his own. Giving it a firm, comforting squeeze.
They talked and cuddled by the fire; eating the mince pies and drinking the mulled wine that they'd set aside for Father Christmas. They shared stories of Christmas' past; Henry on his family's structured cold Christmas' of privilege whilst Thomas' memories were all were warm and cosy, filled with the Christmas spirit and family. In a way Henry felt that he was indeed cheated; living a life of wealth, fame and privilege almost seemed like something to be envied but here he found himself conflicted. It felt wrong to make himself out to be the victim when he had everything he never needed in life; but at the same time he lacked that warm, close-knit childhood and family that Thomas seemed to have.
"We really ought to go to bed, we've loads to do in the morning." Henry slurred quietly, his head rested on Thomas' chest as they stared mindlessly towards the crackling fire as it began to die out; they were a good three glasses of mulled wine in and to say it went straight to their heads was quite the understatement. Thomas' hand ran over Henry's back, groaning grudgingly as he fought the thought of living this position.
"When have I ever turned doing going to bed with you?" Thomas asked, a slight slur to his voice as the tantalising tinge of alcohol off his breath sent Henry into a tailspin. The raven haired boy prompted himself up to glance up into Thomas' drunken brown eyes.
"Thomas, we shouldn't." Slurred Henry, earning him a pout from Thomas. "It's Christmas Eve, what if we sleep in and Danny comes to wake you, only for you to be nowhere to be found?"
"Alright, fine." Thomas pouted adorably, miming a tear with is finger down his chiseled cheekbone.
"Oh for God's sake... You know I can't say no to that face." Drawled Henry childishly as Thomas' face illuminated with hope.
They rushed upstairs, stumbling and fumbling though careful not to wake neither of the boys. Once they were behind closed doors they hastily disrobed one another, leaving their nude skin exposed to the cold; though their lust and the heat of passion kept them warm. They kissed their way through the darkness; their bodies yearning for one another as they gave into their fit of lust until they were left laden in sweat and entangled in one another's arms...