Maybe

Jun. 21st, 2019 11:31 pm
intheheart: A picture of Henrik Asheim in a suit against a stone-laid floor, smiling at the camera. (in the heart : lars : henrik asheim)
[personal profile] intheheart
Title: Maybe
Rating: PG
Summary: It's that time of year again-- Christmas at the Warminds.
Warnings: none.
Notes: I'm tempted to do a whole series of these. Significant others meet the Warminds.


It was that time of year again.

Christmas at the Warminds and everybody was fighting amiably, Lars and the twins over some rooming issue, Theo scolding Anna about participation from his husband's lap while Anna completely ignored him, Mort warming up his voice until Elisa broke away from fighting with Lars just to tell him to shut up, and Christine trying to ride herd on all of it, a holdover from her mother's illness and her own adult responsibilites too soon assumed. Henrik would stop her in a minute, tell her to calm down and enjoy her holiday, but right now he seemed to be too busy spectacting.

Ashley took the earplugs out of her purse, discreetly slipped the pair to Anna, and went to sit by Elliot's shellshocked girlfriend.

"It gets easier," she told the girl, kindly. "Is this your first holiday?"

The girl-- what was her name? Something a little out of the ordinary-- gave her a wide-eyed look and said, "Uh. No, I was here for... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

She smiled. "I'm Ashley. I'm Mortimer's wife. Thanksgiving, maybe? We missed this year because Taylor was sick."

"Oh, uh," the girl said. Grania? Greta? "Yeah. Thanksgiving."

The family was usually quieter at Thanksgiving, and certainly much less combative. Ashley winced when Elliot said something a little too rude to Lars, and winced again when Danny popped out of nowhere to put him in a headlock. She'd just slotted right in, like she'd been born into the family. One less significant other to worry about.

"Are you, like, the greeter?" maybe-Greta asked, and Ashley shrugged.

"More or less," she said. "Mort and I have been together since college. I predate even Alan." Who, true to form, had just swooped in and pulled his wife away from her fruitless attempt to calm everyone down. He hadn't really needed the help adjusting; he had something like five siblings himself. "Do you have a handle on everybody's names?"

"I think so," maybe-Greta said, already sounding much less shell-shocked. "Do I just, uh. Do whatever everyone else is doing?"

"Pretty much." Mort said something to Elisa that, judging from her expression, wasn't polite at all, and Ashley rolled her eyes. "Also, word of advice, don't get between the siblings when they fight. Their father will stop them if it gets serious, and otherwise, just... don't bother."

"I wouldn't anyway," maybe-Greta said. "I don't have any siblings, but I've got a lot of cousins. You learn pretty quick just to stay out of the way."

Ashley nodded. "It's the best way with the Warminds, for certain." Unless, of course, you were Danny, but Ashley sometimes thought that Danny was getting out all the roughhousing she couldn't do with her brother, and the twins at least were happy to help.

"My first holiday," she said, "was Christmas. 2005, what a clusterfuck of a year." And only the second Christmas after Thea Warmind had died. Ashley was still a little sad that she'd never gotten to meet her. "My first year away from home, my first holiday without my family, who are very formal people, by the way, and here's this chaos." She waved at the mob of siblings, which had reformed itself around Elisa and Danny play-boxing, while her normally quiet and gentle Mortimer loudly accepted bets-- and an opera singer could be very loud indeed. "But it's worth it, you know? You get used to it after a while, and they're really very wonderful people."

"Yeah," maybe-Greta said, and smiled at her. "I'm beginning to see that."

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