Work Text:
23 December 1984
Hamish blinked awake as a strip of sunlight creeped over his eyes and soft breathing tickled the back of his neck. Shuffling to turn around, he smiled as he came face-to-face with Harry, a stray curl resting on his forehead while he continued to doze. He gently pushed it back, but the stubborn lock refused to lay anywhere but above his brow. Harry began to wake himself and blearily opened his eyes, a tired smile appearing on his face as he looked at Hamish.
He leaned in for a soft, lazy kiss, and Hamish was more than happy to oblige.
“Good morning, darling,” Harry mumbled against his lips.
Hamish smiled as the broke apart. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Happy Christmas Eve Eve.”
“No one says Christmas Eve Eve, that’s not a thing,” Hamish chuckled.
“Of course it is. I said it, so that absolutely means it’s a thing.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me.”
“Aye,” Hamish said softly, giving Harry another kiss. “That I do.”
“Mmm,” Harry hummed in appreciation as he wrapped his arms around him a little tighter. “Do you think we could just lay here forever instead of getting up and joining the rest of the world?”
“While that does sound ideal,” Hamish said, snuggling his head in to the crook of Harry’s neck, “you still haven’t gotten done packing to go to your parents’ house tomorrow, and we also said we’d help James cook all day for dinner tonight.”
“No, James wants Percy and I to help him. You, my darling, are quite useless in the kitchen, I’m afraid. But if you want to sit pretty and be a taste tester,” he teased, “I’m sure you could fill that role splendidly.”
Hamish playfully scowled and smacked him with a pillow, and Harry laughed. “You cheeky--”
The sound of pots and pans banging about the kitchen interrupted them, and Harry let out a dramatic sigh, flopping onto his back and draping his free arm over his eyes. “And that’s our cue to rise, I suppose.”
Hamish laughed and shook his head. “You theatrical sod,” he said getting up. He grabbed his joggers and jumper that were thrown onto the floor last night (Harry really didn’t care for messes during such heated moments) and put them on, turning around to see that Harry hadn’t moved a muscle. Putting on his glasses, he bent down to pick up Harry’s own forgotten pyjamas littering the carpet and tossed them on him. “Come on, time to get up.”
“Or,” Harry started, sitting up and shoving his clothes aside, “or we could stay in this room all day naked and be lazy and in love.”
“We did that yesterday,” Hamish said, not batting an eye at the game Harry was trying to play. “And you promised you’d help James. Or do you want him barging in here unannounced again instead?”
The playful grin on Harry’s face vanished as he hurriedly got dressed. Hamish smiled at his ridiculous man of a boyfriend and turned to walk out, but a light grip on his wrist turned him around.
“Harry, what--”
Harry interrupted him with a kiss, keeping it slow and sweet, and Hamish couldn’t help but melt into him as he placed his hands on Harry’s waist, reveling in the softness of his lips. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against Harry’s, keeping his eyes closed.
“And what was that for?” he asked quietly.
“Just wanted one more moment of just us before we’re to spend the next week with my family,” Harry murmured. “That’s all.”
“You dramatic sap,” Hamish chuckled as he opened his eyes. “Now come on, before James decides to cook breakfast for everyone but us.”
Harry nodded and gave him one last peck before they ventured outside into the living area where James was already blissfully preparing their breakfast, Percy quietly observing next to him. As they closed the door, James turned around and beamed. “Good morning, love birds. Happy Christmas Eve Eve.”
Hamish blinked then turned to look incredulously at Harry, who simply had a smug grin on his face. “It’s a thing,” he said as me hade his way into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast, James?”
“Full English fry up,” he answered, turning back to the sizzling pan on the stove. “I thought we could use for a bit of a treat before we begin preparing for dinner tonight.” He glanced at Hamish, who followed Harry and was eagerly looking at the food. “Ah, Hamish, could you turn on the radio, please?”
Harry stifled a laugh and Hamish just rolled his eyes, but walked over to their stereo system and record player (a ‘Congratulations on Finishing Your Term’ gift from Harry and James’s mothers) next to the television set. “I’m not going to help you cook, James, no need to worry.”
James actually breathed a sigh of relief, and Hamish wondered why he voluntarily allowed himself to be surrounded by these two boasting peacocks regularly. As he was about to begin switching stations, a heavy beat and synth blasted through the speakers, and he heard a gasp behind him.
“Keep it on here and turn it up!” James’s eyes were wide with delight.
“What the hell is this?” Hamish asked, doing as requested.
“Wham!’s Christmas song, of course! Lord, it’s brilliant. It’s my favourite Christmas song, a guaranteed classic.”
“When did this come out?” Hamish asked.
“Uhm, three weeks ago.”
Hamish snorted, but smiled as he moved to sit at one of the tall seats at the kitchen counter. “That’s hardly enough time to be considered a classic, James.”
“Just you wait, Hamish Campbell,” James said, pointing his spatula at him. “This will become a Christmas classic that will be played on radio stations for generations to come. Mark my words.”
Hamish was about to comment, but Percy interrupted. “There’s no use in arguing with James when it comes to this band, Hamish, I’d just drop it.”
“And that George Michael,” James continued as he went back to the stove, “he seems to be singing about a man, don’t you think?”
“Wait, what?”
“James thinks George Michael is gay,” Harry said with the smallest amused smile on his face. “Although whether or not that’s true--”
“It is,” James insisted. “All three of you are going to eat your words when you see how right I am.”
“About what?” Harry asked with a grin. “This being a Christmas classic, or you having a chance with George Michael?”
“Both of course,” James boasted. “And then you’ll know not to doubt me again.”
Hamish laughed and shook his head, taking in the scene before him. James continued to list reasons as to why both of his predictions would come true while Harry attempted to try and find holes in his arguments and egg him on, and Percy simply looked on at James with a soft smile. He turned towards Hamish, his smile widening, and shook his head, making his way over and taking a seat at the stool next to him.
“Did you ever think,” Percy started as James started batting Harry’s hand away from the plate of already cooked food, “that these two coming into the shop one day would have lead to this?”
“What?” Hamish laughed, watching James turn back to his food and Harry easily sneaked a slice of bacon from the plate. “Being taken by storm by the Hart and Spencer family?”
A low rumble came out of Percy’s chest as he smiled. “Well, that. But also…us being together like this. Like a family.”
“I’ve always considered you my brother long before these two began stalking the shop,” Hamish said.
“And you’ve always been mine, too, Hamish,” Percy quickly reassured, “but…we found people. I don’t know, perhaps I’m just being sentimental.”
“You are,” Hamish agreed, but smiled and rested a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “But you’re right.”
“And what are you two getting all sappy about over there?” James interrupted with a grin. “Did the ghosts of Christmas come and show you your future? Or perhaps Clarence came and showed you a world without you?”
“Their hearts probably grew three sizes,” Harry added.
“Is there a Christmas movie you haven’t seen?” Percy asked.
“Oh, it’s a Hart-Spencer family tradition!” James said proudly. “Every year, we--Harry get away from the damn food!”
Percy and Hamish laughed as James chased Harry around the kitchen. Yes, Hamish thought. Like a proper family.
---
Hamish and Percy sat on the couch, their stomachs filled with food and love, while Harry and James kneeled in front of the small Christmas tree.
“Ah, here they are,” James said as he and Harry picked up two small and handed them over. “These are for you two. Happy Christmas.”
“Thank you, James,” Hamish said earnestly as he took his from James while Percy did the same with Harry. “You really didn’t have--”
“Yes, I did, you stubborn, can’t cook for the life of him, man,” James said with a gleam in his eye. “You’re part of this family now, so just open the damn thing.”
“That goes for you, too, Percy,” Harry added. “You’re family. Open it.”
Turning his head to look at Percy, Hamish saw the same bewilderment but softness in his eyes that he, too, was feeling. He looked back at the tiny wrapped box in his hand, red paper with a giant green bow on top that nearly covered the whole thing. He gently untied the knot and peeled back the paper, and a small box was left. His heart began beating fast, because it looked an awful lot like a ring box, but that was impossible. First of all, James gave it to him, and second, there was no way in hell any of them could ever get married. While there’s been leaps in the legality regarding same gendered relationships, Hamish still couldn’t see a world in which they could be allowed to take each other’s names.
“Harry,” he heard Percy say next to him with a hesitant tone, “what did you--”
“Darling, just open it,” James said quietly.
“We’ll explain then.” Hamish looked up to see Harry staring intently at him.
The usual mischievous glints in James and Harry’s eyes and boisterous tones were gone, and all that was left were two young men who looked almost nervous, their faces displaying cautious hope. It was a far cry from the ridiculous and cheerful auras that usually emanated from the two cousins. So Hamish gave Harry a loving smile and looked back down at the small box that laid in his hands. Whatever it was these two were up to, Hamish trusted them. He opened it, but was only further confused when all that was there was a key.
“I don’t understand,” Hamish said as he looked up at Harry and James with furrowed brows.
“I think I do,” he heard Percy say softly next to him. Turning to look at his friend, Hamish saw wide eyes staring at the similar key he held in his fingers before he looked up at Harry and James. “Are…are you two quite sure?”
“We’ve never been more sure in our lives,” Harry said with a smile. He looked at Hamish, and all of a sudden it all clicked.
“Oh, my god,” Hamish said under his breath. “Are you asking us to move in with you?”
Harry looked down at his feet and shrugged. “Whenever you leave to go back to your own flat, this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.”
“We want you two here,” James said. “With us, where you belong.”
“And Harry giving me my key,” Percy started, “that seemed rather deliberate of you two. Any reason as to that?”
James smiled. “Yes, that was quite on purpose. It’s like we said before. You two are family now. Hamish, you’re not just Harry’s boyfriend, or Percy’s friend, and…well, we thought that doing it this way would be better. Because I’m asking you to move in, not as a tagalong with Harry or Percy, but as my brother.”
“You as well, Percy,” Harry said. “You mean so much more to me than Hamish’s coworker. I love you like a brother, and I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”
Hamish could feel the sting in his eyes and the lump in his throat, but he forced it down. And then, Percy stood up and pulled Harry in for a bone crushing hug, which Harry immediately reciprocated.
“Thank you.” Percy’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you, too, Harry.”
Hamish looked at James, who did nothing to hide the tears forming in his eyes. He then looked at him, and before a tear could spill over, Hamish got up and wrapped his arms around James.
“Who’s getting sappy now?” Hamish said as James hugged him back.
All four of them laughed and let go of each other, the broadest smiles on each of their faces.
“Does this mean we have to watch all of those Christmas movies?” Percy asked as he moved to lace his fingers with James’s.
Harry took Hamish’s hand and pulled him to sit on the couch with him. “Oh, of course,” he said as he wrapped an arm around Hamish. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without it.”
“Mummy will be quite pleased to have two new additions to the festivities,” James said as he sat on the other end of the couch and pulled a protesting Percy onto his lap. “Aunt Clara, too, I’m sure.”
“Absolutely,” Harry agreed. “Mother is quite the fan of you two, so I can’t imagine her being any less ecstatic than James’s mother will be.”
“And moving in together,” Hamish began slowly, “do they approve of this?”
“Oh, without a doubt,” James answered immediately. “Mummy and Aunt Clara are quite besotted with the two of you.”
“They think you keep us in line,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes before a smirk fell on his face. “Although, I believe the actual wording was keeping us straight in line.”
Hamish couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled over him, and the other three quickly followed, Percy no longer upset with being dragged onto James’s lap.
A proper family, Hamish thought as he looked once again at the key in his hand. This was most certainly his favourite Christmas yet.
"Happy Christmas Eve Eve," Percy said fondly, and Harry and James beamed.
"Yes," Hamish chuckled. "Happy Christmas Eve Eve."