Post by ▪▫ JUST ELLE... on Dec 24, 2011 23:32:02 GMT
A Pressley-Couture Christmas
Merry Christmas, Ellie! Here's some fic about Devon and Mitchie's family Christmas when they were younger. c: Hope you liiike<3
Merry Christmas, Ellie! Here's some fic about Devon and Mitchie's family Christmas when they were younger. c: Hope you liiike<3
Christmas was always the Canadian family’s biggest holiday of the year. It was the one time when the whole gang could gather back in Calgary for a literally white Christmas. The holiday, for them, started a few days early, though, since flying to and from was so expensive. They all figured they’d get their moneys worth. And what better way than to spend a whole four days in the company of each other.
To some, it went by all too quickly. To other, it wouldn’t be gone soon enough.
Devon Couture personally loved the family Christmas. It was just about the only time of year that he got to see all of his male cousin’s.
The tradition upon arriving was a game of hockey. The Pressley boys would have their gear ready and their hockey sticks lined up, so as soon as they jumped out of the car they could head around back to set up a game. That was, all the boys except the youngest, Mitchell.
Mitchell would usually help carry the equipment back and then sit on the sidelines disinterestedly. He wasn’t much into sports. A rare thing in the Pressley/Couture family. He hardly could keep score for the boys.
Devon had a certain place in his heart for teasing the youngest Pressley boy. He was just so small and wound-up. Plus, the little boy had a secret stash of Barbie dolls he’d collected from his older girl cousins who didn’t want them anymore. Mitchell would always steal away to the comfort of the quiet attic and dress the dolls contentedly, that was until Devon would pop his head through the attic door and then it became a game of cat and mouse.
Mitchell would leap up, gathering up the dolls and doll clothes as quickly as possible and try to charge for the exit. He never did make it to the exit. Devon would tackle him down and steal one or two of the Barbie’s, threatening to try and flush them down the toilet or to give them to the old hound dog his grandparents owned.
This particular Christmas visit was going accordingly, Mitchell on his back hands grabbing at the air, trying to get back the Barbie’s he’d named separately Margot and Claire.
“GIVE THEM, DEVON!” He squeaked, trying to scramble from under the boy who had his knees dug neatly into his sides.
“No way, Mitch, these girls want a nice swim in the toilet.” He sneered down at him. “What’s the on her, a tutu. Don’t you wear those too?” He laughed down at his cousin who was scowling and squirming.
“Boy ballerinas don’t wear tutus!” He spat back matter-of-factly.
“WHAT’S GOING ON UP THERE?” Yelled up their uncle. Mitchell opened his mouth to yell down but Devon clapped a hand over it.
“Shut up or I’ll snap this doll in half.” He hissed, and Mitchell closed his mouth quickly, sniffling a little now as if trying not to cry. “Aw, you gonna cry over your stupid dolls?” Devon scoffed, waving the doll over his head. Mitchell let out something like a whimper beneath him, though, and his eyes started watering up. Devon’s smirk fell quickly and his brow knitted,
“Hey c’mon, I was just kidding around with you.” He tried to reason, but Mitchell was already sniveling heavily. Devon stood to get off of Mitchell and moved aside as the eight year old was gathering up the dolls tearfully,
“I don’t wear tutus.” The little blonde sniffed before running from the attic.
“Mitch!” Devon yelled after him, starting to feel guilt in the pit of his stomach. “Mitch, come back, come on! I was just-.” He sighed as he heard the door to the guest room Mitchell shared with his brothers slam.
“Where’s Mitchell?” One of Devon’s aunts asked as he trudged through the kitchen to rejoin the boys. “He usually likes to help with the Christmas cookie decorating.”
Devon shrugged silently, biting into the inside of his lip guiltily. Making to join the boys at the basketball net, he stopped, groaning a bit because he knew he had to go back in and apologize to his young cousin. Turning reluctantly he moved back through the kitchen and stopped in front of the door to Mitchell’s room. Listening in for a second, he heard the distinctive sound of the little boy crying and his stomach dropped further.
He’d just been playing around. They did this every year. Maybe this time he’d gone a little far.
Slowly raising his arm, he knocked a few times. “Mitch?” Devon called in cautiously.
“Go away Devon.” Came the little boy’s angry, shaky voice.
Devon pushed the door open anyway, taking a few steps in and looking over apologetically to the blonde.
“Mitch, c’mon, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He tried to reason before ducking as a Barbie went flying at his head.
“You always pick on me!” Mitchell yelled over at him, fists clenched tightly before he bent to pick up and throw another Barbie. “I’m tired of you making fun of me just because I don’t play stupid dumb hockey like the rest of the boys!” He growled, reaching for another doll before Devon rushed over to grab his arm and stop him.
“Okay! Alright!” He huffed out, making sure Mitchell wasn’t going to try to chuck Margot the Barbie at his head before going over and retrieving the two that had already been thrown.
“I didn’t know it bothered you so much.” Devon sighed out, “You’re always so tough about it, I didn’t think it could hurt you.” He admitted. It was true, for not being a strong kid physically like all of his family, Mitchell sure had an emotional resilience like nothing else.
“Tough? But you said I wear tutus.” Mitchell pointed out, trying to stay as angry as he’d been before.
“I know I did.” Devon nodded, “But even if you did, I’m sure you could pull it off.” He smiled down at the younger boy, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Mitchell’s frown melted slowly into a small smile. “There we go, that’s what I was looking for.” Devon grinned, and Mitchell’s smile grew. “Now, don’t you want to help with making the Christmas cookies? You can’t leave the girls to do it all themselves. Yours are always the best.” He nudged the Mitchell.
“They are, aren’t they!” Mitchell beamed, following Devon out the door now, wiping the last of the tears off his face and skipping towards the kitchen.
Devon finally went out to join the boys, guilt-free, but still knowing he wanted to make it up to his cousin in some way.
It just so happened that every year a different person got to put the star on top of the Christmas tree. Unfortunately, Mitchell, being the shortest of the family, hadn’t got to do so yet.
And so before anyone else could get a word in that night, Devon snatched the star up and Mitchell in another second. Mitchell’s eyes went from fear to joy when he realized he got to put the star on top and he took it in his hands placing it as carefully as possible on top of the tree.
“It needs something.” Devon said after setting Mitchell back down.
“What do you mean?” Mitchell frowned confused, and Devon went off grinning, coming back with Mitchell’s Christmas Barbie- or Darla as she’d been named, and sat her on top of the star.
