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The blinking of the lights on the tree had gone from magical, to endearing, to background noise, and finally to maddening. To Keith, it was beginning to feel like they were taunting him somehow. This was supposed to be a happy day. It was Christmas Day!
Their first Christmas in their own place, as an official, serious couple.
And… really, he was happy. He was halfway through an art degree. Lance was halfway through his own degree and his side business Paladin Pies with Hunk and Romelle was- not booming, exactly, but certainly keeping them busy and turning a profit. He and Lance worked really well together. They’d been together long enough that they’d worked through their early tendency to spat and argue over dumb shit, and now when that kind of stuff happened, the arguing and competition was playful and not scary. They’d weathered a few really big arguments, and come out the other side stronger for it.
They were in love. Big, strong, epic in love , and for the first time in longer than he wanted to think about, the future was something that Keith was looking forward to and excited about.
This was just nerves. He just wanted dinner to go perfectly.
“Babe, you look like you are about to combust! Why don’t you get started on the roux for the gravy? It’ll be fine to sit until we need it and it will save time in the mad rush after the bird comes out of the oven.” Lance’s voice was gentle, patient. He knew that today would be hard for Keith, and knew that Keith did better when he had something to do with his hands.
“She hasn’t had a Christmas in so long,” Keith said, pulling out the flour and butter. “I just-”
“-want this to be perfect. I know. But Keith… she’s your mom. I’m sure she’s just overjoyed to be able to see you. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”
“Easier said than done,” he muttered, making Lance sigh. Then he felt a strong, steady grip on his arm and Lance was turning him around. Blue eyes caught his gaze and held it until he felt his breathing level out.
“You did this to yourself when she got the okay for visitors and it went well. You did it when she got released from the hospital, and that went well. You stressed for weeks about telling her that you are gay, and that you were moving in with me… and she was just excited that you weren’t alone and… okay… admittedly, she did threaten me in some disturbingly specific ways- but she likes me now, so… you know… Yay!” He pressed a kiss to Keith’s forehead, “she just wants to be here with you when you open your gifts and to eat Christmas dinner with us. It doesn’t need to be a Hallmark movie, okay?”
“Yeah,” he relaxed on a huff, nodding, “yeah, okay. You’re right. I know you’re right… it’s just… she deserves a Hallmark movie.”
“Mmhmm… which is why I’m making a giant turkey, and seven kinds of vegetables and stuffing, and gravy… and why not one single gift has been opened even though I have been awake for hours already! Keith, babe… we got this.”
“We got this,” he repeated, letting the words settle over him like a blanket. The comfort was short-lived. Almost instantly, he stepped out of Lance’s embrace, looking for the notebook that held the instructions for what he felt was the most vital part of the feast. “Where’s the recipe? I want to read over Hunk’s notes again.”
“Again?!? Keith! You probably have that thing memorized by now!”
“You and Hunk and Romelle bake all the time for Paladin Pies,” he argued, “I don’t bake! I roll out pie crust and I load boxes. This recipe has to be-”
“-perfect. I know!” Lance grabbed the back of his jeans, yanking him back into his arms and pressing a kiss to his temple. He followed that one up with a kiss to his cheek, then to the tip of his nose… the corner of his mouth… the crease between his brows. “I know all of this. I know you thought she died when you were little. I know she was a POW for years. I know that her favorite pie was a big deal and you want it to be just right. I know you are trying to make up for a lifetime of Christmases you guys didn’t get to have. That’s why we’ve spent weeks planning and preparing for this. You said it yourself- me and Hunk and Romelle do this all the time… and babe, I’m going to be right here next to you when you make that pie. It’s going to be perfect. Better than perfect… this is real . She’s really going to be here, with you, for Christmas.”
“I’m being annoying… sorry…”
“Hey! Nope. Nuh-uh! None of that! You are not being annoying. You are excited and worried and nervous… of course you are!” He cuddled closer, “you aren’t annoying me. I’m just worried that you are going to end up ruining this for yourself by getting too hung up on the details. She just wants to spend today with you, Keith. Just like you just want to spend it with her. We could serve frozen pizza and she’d be thrilled. It is so sweet of you to be so invested in giving her a good Christmas, but I promise you… the details don’t matter as much as you are afraid they do.”
“How can you be so sure?” He chewed his lip, nerves swamping him.
“I might know a little something about loving you, Keith,” Lance teased, “and, look, I love me some holiday festivities… but they are all just fun extras. They wouldn’t mean a thing to me if I had all the pretty trimmings but didn’t get to see you… and if we didn’t have a single Christmas-y thing in the house, but I got to be with you today, it would still be an awesome Christmas. Pretty sure Krolia and I are on the same page about that.”
“Okay… yeah… I get it. I’m just… I don’t even know why I’m like this!”
“Lotta changes this year, babe. Good ones, but it means this year feels different… and you’ve got a bit of a bossy streak, so…” He trailed off, shrugging, “you know… this . So, okay- what will make you feel a bit less out of control?”
“Um… can we make the pie now?” he asked, quirking a brow at Lance in question. “So we have time to redo it if I screw it up?”
“You aren’t going to screw it up, Keith,” Lance sighed, kissing him softly. “But yeah… we can make the pie now. Just… let me get this stuff cleared away. We can use the countertop oven for it. Alright?”
“You’re sure? I know you have a whole timeline for dinner…”
“Keith, I’m sure. It’ll be fine. There was a reason I made sure to leave the countertop oven empty, you know.”
Grinning, he leaned in to kiss Lance quickly. “You know me so well. Love you.”
“You do the same thing for me, babe. Every single time I have an exam or a paper due and I’m melting down.”
Once they started working on the pie, his mood leveled out, stress dropping more by the second. He was always someone who did better if he had a task to complete when he was stressed. Thankfully, Lance was a confident baker, too… so when Keith started second-guessing himself, he knew how to guide him if he needed it… and more importantly, his assurances held weight. Keith knew Lance wasn’t just cheering him on, wasn’t just humoring him.
When Lance tasted the dough for the crust and said it was delicious, Keith believed him. He even beamed a little bit, because he’d seen how many mixes Lance had chucked into the trash for being overworked or had to tinker with it to ‘get it right’ when they’d been working on polishing the recipe. When his boyfriend complimented his ‘fluting’, he breathed a little easier- because it turns out, that was more important and more difficult than he’d realized before spending so much time with people that made pies professionally.
They’d blind-baked the pie shell and had moved on to the filling. Fresh blueberries weren’t exactly in season but Hunk was a saint with foodie connections and had hooked them up. Keith rinsed them carefully and tossed them in a mixture of cornstarch, powdered sugar, cardamom and ginger, then poured them into the still-warm crust. Lance smiled encouragingly and even managed to surprise Keith with sneak photo attacks a couple of times. “Knock it off,” he scolded, “I’m trying to concentrate!”
“I know! Look! You get that cute little pout and the adorable little crease between your eyebrows when you think really hard. It’s precious! I love it.”
He flicked a little sour cream at his boyfriend, “quit it with the pictures!”
“No can do, babe! I promised Hunk a steady stream of visual updates! He’s almost as nervous as you were!”
He rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the picture-taking, “what does Hunk have to be nervous about?”
“Babe- he’s your friend… he really wants today to go well for you. We all do.”
“Mmmm,” he nodded, not wanting to think too much about that, “sour cream, sugar, egg, cardamom, ginger… what am I missing?”
“Vanilla extract.”
“Yes! Right… thank-you!” Once the sour cream mixture was silky smooth he poured it over the blueberries, shifting them around to make sure there were no gaps. Then, with a steeling breath, he put the pie in the oven and set the timer. “Here goes nothing!”
“Want me to set a back-up timer?” Lance asked.
Keith’s first instinct was that Lance was teasing him for being too worried, but when he glanced over, his boyfriend’s face was kind, sincere. No trace of mockery or impatience- just pure support. “Yeah… just in case. Thanks.”
Tapping at his phone, Lance flashed him a bright smile. “Done and done. Breathe babe, your job is over. Just let the oven do its thing! Right- we still need to deal with the actual Christmas dinner. So, back to work!”
“Hang on,” he grabbed a fistful of Lance’s gingerbread-man apron, pulling him into Keith’s arms with a sharp tug. Lance laughed as his arms wrapped around Keith’s neck. His blue eyes sparkled brighter than any decoration Keith had ever seen. “I love you,” he breathed, trying to pack everything he felt into those three little words.
“Awww, babe… I love you, too,” Lance answered, brushing their noses together in soft affection.
So, that hadn’t really worked. Lance had believed him, but he hadn’t seen how much more Keith was trying to say in those words. Letting out a little huff of frustration, Keith rocked on his heels, trying to figure out a phrasing that said everything he needed to say without sounding cheesy or messing it up somehow. Finally, he gave up, opting to show Lance instead.
His fingers slid into Lance’s hair and he closed the distance between them, fusing their lips together in a slow, thorough kiss. One that he hoped left no doubt in his mind just how precious Lance was to him.
Based on the dazed smile and the slow, dreamy blinks that Lance gave him when he finally lifted his head, Keith suspected the message had been delivered loud and clear. “I really love you,” he added, for good measure, his voice a little rough with emotion.
“Mmmhmm… really… mmm… really love you… um… too… wow.”
The pie looked perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
It smelled amazing… and so did the sauce they’d made the night before. Some terrified, jangling thing in Keith’s chest finally settled down into quiet, calm, stillness once that pie had been set safely off to one side on a trivet to cool. The pressure he’d put on himself lifted and he started genuinely enjoying the day again.
Before he knew it, they were buzzing his Mom in and Lance was racing around the apartment frantically trying to make the place look like no one actually lived there. He’d ultimately resorted to throwing their mail into the bedroom and pulling the door shut.
“Keith,” his mother whispered, pulling him into a tight hug. It was slightly too tight to be comfortable, but he loved it. It was real and solid and soothed something that had ached his whole damn life. They weren’t exactly comfortable with each other yet, but they were getting there. One thing was for sure though, when Keith was with his mother, he knew with absolute certainty how much she loved him. “Merry Christmas, sweetie!”
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” he answered, making the decision not to call attention to the couple of tears he’d felt hit his shoulder, but giving her one last little squeeze before he released her and let her into the apartment.
He moved to close the door, only to have her yelp and push past him back into the hall. “Sorry! I set them down and forgot… hang on! Not used to…”
“Holy Crow! Krolia, my God, let us help with that,” Lance cut in, his vantage point obviously letting him see something Keith couldn’t.
“No! No- it’s okay! I got it!” she insisted, from the hall. “I dragged your gifts this far already, I think I can make it another ten feet without help!”
Keith’s jaw dropped when he saw what Lance had been talking about. He’d known his mother was strong- in pretty much every possible definition of the word, but there was something eerie about seeing her manhandle the three very large burlap sacks full of presents into the apartment like some kind of badass melding of Sarah Connors and Santa Claus!
“Don’t be silly,” Lance insisted, holding out his arms for one of the bags. “Let us help- we won’t peek, promise!”
“Yeah, Mom,” he echoed, “c’mon. Hand it over.”
That did the trick. Reluctantly, Krolia surrendered two thirds of her burden to them and they stowed the bags under their brand-new artificial tree. Keith had wanted a real one, but it went against their lease, so Lance had put his foot down. But this was a nice one- pre-lit and flocked so it looked like there was snow on the branches. It had taken forever to find one that met his standards and that they could afford, but eventually they had.
“I love your tree,” his mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “The ornaments are lovely!”
“Lance made them.”
“They look more impressive than they really are,” he demurred, “I basically just folded and glued paper while we watched tv, and shook some glitter in cheap plastic balls from the craft store.”
“They’re lovely,” she repeated, brushing her fingertips over one of the glittering balls, “they look like space… like… little galaxies… and then the bookpage stars. We used to do our whole tree in snowflakes and snowmen. Do you remember that, Keith?”
He hadn’t. Not until she’d said something, and then the memory came rushing back in technicolor detail. “We put a top hat on the tree instead of a star… and… there were… boots??”
“Yes!” She laughed, the sound filling the room, “your father found an old pair of rubber boots and rigged them up to the treestand. He meant well, but they looked ridiculous!”
“I loved the boots!” Keith insisted, half lost in memories he’d pushed to the back of his mind for years. “I remember hiding stuff in them.”
“Mmhmm… one time you hid the car keys in there and we tore the house apart trying to find them.” She shook her head, reaching out to him blindly, eyes still on the tree. He stepped closer and slipped his hand into hers, “you missed your swimming lesson. I missed a dentist appointment. We spent the morning playing with your toy trucks while your Dad went to get new keys cut, instead.”
“Awww… sounds like you were a real handful, babe,” cooed Lance, prompting his mother to ruffle his hair like he was five or something.
“My bright, curious little dandelion,” she said, smiling. “We didn’t find those keys until we took the tree down. There was all kinds of stuff in those boots. Toys, ornaments, the keys, a couple of forks, nail clippers… you called it your treasure.”
“Alright- that’s not the first time you’ve called him that and I have to ask… why do you call him your dandelion?” Lance asked as Keith took Krolia’s coat from her.
“We discussed this, Lance,” he hissed.
“I know, I know.. But come on! It’s such a cute nickname! There’s gotta be a story!” Turning his attention to Keith’s Mom, Lance made big, blinky eyes and smiled sweetly, “please tell me the story!”
“No story,” she insisted, “he just had really, really fluffy hair that liked to stand up after a bath. Always reminded me of a dandelion that had gone to seed.”
“Soooooo adorable!”
Anyone else would probably have groaned in mortification from that story, but Keith ate it up. He knew next to nothing about his own childhood and had always told himself that it didn’t matter who he had been, because he knew who he was … and that was true, to an extent. But, it didn’t change the fact that he could feel his heart swell a little every time his mother shared some little tidbit about him as a baby or toddler.
Their relationship was a strange one for a parent and child. He knew that. But being strange didn’t make it less important or lacking. It just made it theirs . He hung up her coat and returned to find Lance coaxing more ‘baby Keith’ memories from her. Keith settled onto the couch with them, leaning into the warm support Lance offered and listened to his mother recount his first steps.
They were still a little awkward with each other, but things were better now than they had been. They were building something together, sure and steady. Each of them had been conditioned to be wary of opening up, so it was slow-going, both of them desperate for acceptance and affection from the other, both of them unsure and overly-cautious about giving it themselves.
She put visible effort into her attempts not to crowd him, but whenever she asked a question, she hung onto every word of his answers like they were the word of God or something. Keith recognized the hunger for information- any information- no matter how mundane or trivial, in her eyes. He’d felt the same way most of his life about her.
Her face lit up when she talked about the time before she’d… been gone, so Keith couldn’t bring himself to get irritated by potentially embarrassing stories. He heard the love and pride in her voice, so they fed something inside of him more than they bugged him.
It was going to take forever to open all those gifts she’d brought!
He hadn’t had a whole lot of money to spend, but most of it had gone to gifts for his mother and Lance. Pretty much everyone else had been given art he’d made. There was art for his mother, too. A lot of it, actually. One of the few things that had made it through foster home after foster home with minimal losses was his collection of sketchbooks and drawing pads. So, he’d gone through them with Shiro and put together a scrapbook of sorts for her with a sampling of… not necessarily his best work, but the pieces that were most representative of what he’d been drawing at eight, or twelve, or whatever.
She took her time going through the scrapbook. Her fingers skimmed over each page with a kind of reverence that was humbling. Every so often she’d ask about one of the pictures, and he got the impression she was holding back many more questions than she was voicing. That was okay. Eventually, he’d tell her all about each and every one.
“He’s really talented,” Lance said at one point, “he’ll say he’s not, but he is. I wish he’d let me put some of his art up here.”
“Ugh- feels so pretentious to hang my own art up in my apartment!” He wrinkled his nose, shaking his head, “that’s so not me!”
“See? I’m his biggest fan and I don’t get to display any of his work!” Laughing, Lance shoved him playfully.
“You should get him to do little sketches you can hang on the tree,” Krolia suggested, a sly smile on her face. “Since you made a bunch of ornaments, it only seems fair for him to make some, too.”
“Mom!”
“Ooooh! I love that idea! We are doing that! We are soooo doing that! You can do a bunch of salt dough ornaments to look like those cookies you decorated with Hunk! Or! Oooh- I can pick up a bunch of those little frames that they sell to turn photos into ornaments and you can do, like, sketches or watercolors or whatever! That’s perfect, Krolia!”
She beamed, her smile so bright that there was absolutely not way Keith could say no and risk dimming it. “Alright… yeah… we can do that. Next year, I’ll make some ornaments for the tree.”
“Really?” Lance’s eyes were so gorgeous when he was excited about something. The blue seemed to sparkle in a way that eyes shouldn’t be able to.
“Sure.” The hug surprised him, making him laugh as his arms wrapped around Lance. “Just… remind me in like September or something so I have time.”
“We are going to have the most gorgeous tree ever. I love it. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he chuckled, kissing the tip of Lance’s nose.
“You are both very sweet,” Krolia said gently, “but I want you two to open some presents too! I had so much fun shopping for you.”
Slowly but surely, they worked their way through the gifts. There was no one thing that was especially extravagant. Big, showstopper gifts required an understanding of someone that they just didn’t have yet, but all the small presents were well received.
Most of the presents for his mother were little domestic things. She was still living in a transitional home while she adjusted to being back, but she’d been doing so well that it was likely she’d be moving out of the facility within a couple of months. When she did, he wanted her to make the space her own, so he and Lance had found kitchen stuff in her favorite colors, and little decorative touches.
She’d seemed to focus on clothes and hobby gear for them, and he nearly cried when he realized that there were just as many presents for Lance as there were for him, and that she’d signed all of the tags ‘ from Mom’ not just his own. How had he ever been so scared that she wouldn’t accept his relationship with Lance?
Periodically, Lance would hop up to check on the food that was cooking away. He’d chat with them while he added water to pots and basted the turkey. Any time either of them offered to help, he’d wave a hand at them and make the exact same shushing noise Keith had heard Mrs. McClain making the night before when they’d celebrated with Lance’s family.
“He likes to cook?” Krolia asked.
“Yeah,” Keith answered, smiling, “he’s good at it, too. I tend to be on dishes duty- not that I’m complaining! You should try the lasagna he makes sometime!”
“I’d love that.”
“Next time I make it, we’ll have you over, Krolia. Cross my heart,” Lance chimed in from the kitchen.
“That sounds lovely, Lance. Thank-you,” smiling, she patted Keith’s knee.
They still had gifts left to open when it was time to eat. Lance had insisted on dealing with all of the finishing touches so that Keith could keep chatting with his mother. He’d even jokingly hissed at Krolia when she tried to insist on helping and shooed her back to the couch with a tea towel until she was cracking up at his antics. It was hard for Keith to believe he’d been so nervous earlier! The entire visit was so warm, and just… nice.
He was sure that they had about four times as much food as they needed for three people, though. A thought he’d voiced when he’d seen the way that the kitchen counters filled up with casserole dishes and bowls and pots all waiting to be scooped up onto plates.
Hot turkey with cornbread stuffing, cold sliced ham with a pineapple glaze, two kinds of cranberry sauce (jellied canned stuff and the homemade stuff with orange peels and chunks of apple and other things that had surprised him but Lance had insisted was normal), mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, peas, corn, steamed broccoli, roasted brussel sprouts, sweet potato casserole, green beans, and gravy. Just… so much food. It hadn’t seemed like this much food when they’d been making the list! How had Lance managed to pull this off while still reassuring him and visiting with Krolia?
“This is incredible,” his mother said softly, echoing Keith’s thoughts. “It’s too much!”
“Ah bip-bip-bip-bip! None of that,” Lance said, pushing Keith toward the food, “this is Christmas! It’s all about family and feasting!”
“You’re incredible,” Keith tried, wanting to make sure Lance knew how appreciated he was.
“I didn’t do anything that millions of people across the country didn’t also do today,” he demurred, but Keith could tell by the color in his cheeks that Lance was proud. Good. He should be proud. He’d worked his ass off because he knew that it was a big deal to Keith that they have a classic Christmas and he’d succeeded.
“Thank-you, Lance,” he whispered, twisting to kiss his cheek.
“Anything for you,” he whispered back. “Merry Christmas, Mullet.”
“That’s not a mullet,” Krolia argued, laughing, “I was around in the 80s! I know what a mullet looks like and it’s not that!”
“See?” Keith smirked, finally getting with the program and loading his plate with food. “Told’ja!”
“She’s your mother,” Lance pointed out, “she’s biased!”
“You could do with a haircut, though, Keith,” she continued and he nearly cracked up at the affronted look on Lance’s face at the suggestion.
“A trim, maybe,” he countered. As much as he made a show of grumbling about it, Lance had a bit of a fixation with his hair and Keith was well aware that cutting it off would not go over well with his boyfriend. “Just to tidy it up a bit.”
“I can probably do that much,” Lance said, relaxing, “get rid of the dead ends. I used to trim Nadia’s hair when she was little and squirmy and I still managed not to make a mess of it!”
“Nadia is his niece,” Keith explained, “there’s a picture of her with Santa on the fridge.”
“Oh! She’s sweet! Who’s the little guy with her?”
“That’s Sylvio, her brother. They’re my brother’s kids. Oh, you should have seen them last night with their gifts! So excited!”
Lance’s stories about his various family members carried them out of the kitchen and through the entire meal. Krolia disproved Lance’s insistence that Keith was ‘the only adult in the world’ that disliked roasted brussel sprouts, and green beans. She’d taken some out of politeness, but her face whenever she tried to force herself to eat them gave her away. Eventually, Lance took pity on her and told her to leave them because ‘I know that face- good to know he gets it from you. You’re allowed to not like some vegetables. I’m not offended.’
Before he knew it, Keith was gathering up the dishes and putting coffee on. He nearly groaned at the amount of food still left after feeding all three of them. They’d be eating leftovers forever! Poor Lance had soooo many brussels sprouts to eat!
His eyes lit on the pie, set off to one side, safe and sound. Dessert. He’d forgotten all about it!
After all that stress and worry and work and planning- he’d completely forgotten about the pie! He hadn’t even mentioned that they had a dessert planned for after the meal! His mother was probably stuffed. He knew he was stuffed!
This was a disaster!
Panic came rushing back and his hands shook as he put the plates into the dishwasher. What was he going to do? Send her home with the whole pie, like a gift? Bring it out like that was the plan all along and hope she would have a little sliver now? Pretend like he never made it at all and ignore something so integral to the few Christmas memories he had of her?
“Keith made you a pie,” he heard Lance said easily, “but I’m too full for sweets right now. Are you okay with waiting until a little later to break out the dessert?”
God bless his boyfriend. Seriously, bless that man! Relief washed over him in a wave when he heard those words. So obvious. So simple.
They returned to the gifts while they drank their coffee. Krolia thought the reusable mug that Lance got her was hilarious. She’d taken one look at the fancy, sparkling purple font that read “No, I don’t have resting bitch face- this is your fault!” and decided that was the funniest thing she’d seen in ages. Lance grinned smugly at him, because Keith had discouraged the purchase, but Lance had been so sure that she’d love it.
“Fine,” he laughed, “you were right about the mug.”
“Huh?” Krolia wiped at her eyes, because she’d laughed so hard she’d teared up.
“I was worried you’d find the mug rude,” he explained, “and maybe not like it.”
“It’s hilarious, Keith,” she assured him.
“You shouldn’t have doubted me, babe!” Lance got all up in his face, making faces at him. “I’m like a gift guru! Trust me. Trust the guru, Keefy… guuuuu-ruuuuu…”
“Ugh- you are the worst.”
“You love me.”
“Both things can be true, Lance.”
“But you don’t really think that. You think I’m awesome… because you loooove me.” Lance booped him on the nose with his finger.
“Why are you doing this now?”
“Because you don’t really think I’m the worst… do you?” The pout on his face looked sincere but Keith could see the impish mirth in Lance’s eyes.
“Oh my god,” he groaned, “keep this up and I might start to.”
“Which means?”
“Fine, Lance- I’ll say it, since you are angling so hard. No, I don’t really think you are the worst.”
“Good! I love you.” He kissed the tip of Keith’s nose quickly and turned back to face Krolia, who was smiling indulgently at them. “I’m glad you like the mug.”
“I love the mug,” Krolia said, still smiling, “it will get a lot of use, I promise.”
“Perfect! Now, it’s been like half an hour- are we ready for pie?”
“I would love some pie- what kind do you have?”
“It’s uh…” Keith cleared his throat, as Lance rose to go dish them up desserts. “Okay. So, for years, I thought I imagined this pie because people would ask my favorite and I’d answer, but then what they’d serve me was completely different than I expected… but I remembered this blueberry pie that we’d have at Christmas, but I wasn’t allowed to have very much… and it was your favorite… and so, I tried to explain it to Lance and Hunk and Romelle- because… Paladin Pies is their baby… and anyway, long story short…” He trailed off, the words dying in his throat.
“That’s not the end of a sentence, babe,” Lance teased from the kitchen, “you have to actually tell her the short version for that to work.”
“Long story short,” he repeated pointedly, “they helped me try to recreate your favorite blueberry pie.”
“What?” she blinked at him, “but you were so little…”
“I don’t know if I remembered it right,” he cut in, the words a rushed tumble of sounds, “so it might not be the same… but… I… I think it is really good, anyway… and I hope-”
“Keith,” Lance’s voice was gentle as he handed them both plates. “Just let her try it and see what she thinks, okay?”
“I can’t believe you even remembered that pie in the first place!” Her voice broke and she stared at the wedge of dessert on the small plate. Golden shortbread crust, dark blue polka-dots nestled in a creamy filling, steaming hot purple sauce pooled on top and dripping down the cut edges. “This… Keith… this smells amazing !”
“Yeah?” That was promising, right? A good sign? Even if it wasn’t right , at least it was good .
“Yeah, it does.” She cut a morsel free with the side of her fork, dragged it through a puddle of the sauce and popped it into her mouth. He watched, heart in his throat, as her eyes drifted shut and she chewed. “Oh.” When her eyes opened again, there were tears in them, “it’s even better than I remember!”
He could cry. No lie, he felt like he could dissolve into tears of relief and happiness on the spot. “Oh, thank god!”
“He was very particular about the amount of ginger in the sauce,” Lance volunteered. “We’ve had a lot of blueberry sundaes lately using up all the ‘not quite right’ batches of sauce.”
“It’s perfect. Amazing,” she whispered, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “Did… did your Dad ever tell you the story behind this recipe?”
He shook his head. His Dad hadn’t talked much about her after she’d been declared killed in action, and there hadn’t been a lot of time to ask questions before he was gone, too.
“It’s not my recipe,” she said, smiling wistfully, “it’s your father’s. I just love it. So, when I first enlisted, before you were born, I was stationed overseas for a bit. He… it was a short posting, only a few months. It wasn’t worth it for him to deal with all the paperwork to get a job. So, he was a homemaker for a while- and he befriended a neighbour who made this pie. She would never ever give the recipe to anyone. He hounded her for weeks, because we were only there for such a short time. Then- I found out about you.” She smiled at him, “and I got so sick. I couldn’t eat. The only thing that sounded even the slightest bit appetizing was her pie- without the booze in the sauce, of course. She was a sweetheart, and she kept making me pies, so I never ran out. But, of course, the posting ended and we packed up our little house and moved back home.”
Keith reached out and caught her free hand in his, squeezing it gently. This was the kind of story he’d always envied his friends for knowing about their lives.
“That’s when we moved into the house in the desert. The morning sickness was pretty much gone by then, but when we unpacked our kitchen, your father found this index card tucked in with the dishes. It was her recipe. He tinkered with it to make it his own. After that, he made it for every special occasion.”
“That’s such a sweet story,” Lance said, his voice quiet. “No wonder you remembered the pie, Keith! You were the reason your Mom loved it so much in the first place!”
Krolia laughed, the sound lifting the mood in the room immediately. “That’s true! And now… Keith, sweetheart- this is my favorite gift. I can close my eyes and it feels like I’ve gone back in time.”
“You like it? For real? You aren’t just saying that because Lance mentioned how we tried a bunch of reci-”
“I love it,” she insisted, setting their plates aside to pull him into a hug. She squeezed him tight. Tight enough that it almost hurt. Tight enough that he had to work to breathe. So tight that it squeezed out any lingering doubts and reminded him that she was home, and safe, and real, and solid. Not a dream that he’d wake up from to have reality come crashing in. His Mom was back, alive and well, and she loved him. “You grew up into such a remarkable man. I couldn’t possibly be prouder of you.”
“Thanks… I love you, too… and I’ve always been proud- of you, of being your kid.”
After that, the rest of the day was kind of a blur. Lance brought out the guitars at one point, and they’d sung some carols, because that was one of Lance’s family traditions, and he’d wanted to make sure that the day wasn’t all about him and his mother. She’d surprised him with the knowledge that she played bass and floored them both with an incredible singing voice. Then she’d completely charmed Lance with stories of little Keith on Christmas morning that he treasured, even if some of them made him cringe.
Before he knew it, she was leaving with her gifts and almost half of the insane amount of leftovers (including the rest of the pie- as delicious as it was, he and Lance had eaten so many variations of it while perfecting the recipe that they were happy to send this one home with her!).
“I think it is safe to say that Operation Perfect Christmas was a success,” Lance whispered after they closed the door behind Krolia. “Now we just need to load the dishwasher and tackle the pots. I know it’s only like ten, but I. Am. Wiped. Out.”
“It’s ten already? Wow- the day really flew!” He pulled his boyfriend into a tender kiss, “thank-you. For everything. For being you. Making dinner. Loving me. All of it.”
“Awww Keith, you don’t have to thank me! But, you did, so… you are very welcome, sweetheart!”
“You load the dishwasher, I’ll wash the pots and wipe down the table and counters. You deserve a break.”
“Best boyfriend ever,” Lance replied, grinning.
He put on some music and they puttered around the living room for a few minutes, trying to fit all the gifts they’d opened back under the tree, since their friends were dropping by the next day for a leftovers pot-luck gift exchange thing. After a full day of conversation, Keith was kind of talked out, which Lance seemed to know instinctively, so there wasn’t a lot of chatting as they tidied.
There weren’t actually that many dishes left to be put in the machine, so Lance pulled on his Christmas apron and insisted on drying the remaining pots as Keith washed them. Each hand off of a wet pot was accompanied by a quick smooch, and as tired as he was, Keith was grinning like a fool the whole time.
“She seemed to like all the gifts,” he said as he handed over the last pot and turned the dishwasher on.
“Pretty sure we could have been giving her nothing but socks, coal, and fruitcake and she’d have been happy with them, but yeah. I think she liked them all. I can’t believe how many presents she brought with her! She must have been shopping for months!”
“I know- she didn’t have to do all that. She spent too much.”
“Keith- let her spoil you. She’s earned it.”
“I guess… but I don’t care about stuff you know? Having her back is a miracle, it doesn’t need anything else.”
“I know, I know… but she seems to enjoy it, so stop stressing. Now- did you like the gifts Santa brought you?” Lance put away the pot and carefully hung the wet dish towel over the handle of the stove.
“The gifts from you. I know they’re from you- even if you signed them from Santa. I know your handwriting… and also… I’m not five.”
“Moot point. Did you like them?”
“Obviously! You bought me booze, video games, art crap, clothes, and junk food. How could I have any complaints about any of that. Did you like your gifts?”
“Mmmhmm, every one of them was a solid win. But… um… hang on for a second.” He whisked his apron off and hurried to the hall closet, pulling a small package out of the sleeve of his summer jacket. “It’s not much, but… here…”
Keith took the gift. Wrapped in red paper with a big glossy black bow, the box was only about the size of his palm and it clunked oddly when he shook it. He arched a brow at Lance, who just grinned at him, eyes wide and expectant. He ran his thumbnail along the gap he’d found where the paper bridged from the lid to the base, slicing it easily. It only took a few seconds after that to free the box from the paper and lift the lid, revealing the contents of the box.
“Do you get it?” Lance asked, biting his lip, “what it is, I mean?”
He lifted the keychain by the ring, watching the dull metal of the disk rotate slightly as Lance spoke.
“It’s a game token… from Castle of Lions Arcade at the Mall, remember?”
“That place closed down ages ago, Lance…”
“Yeah- I know, it was a pain in the ass trying to find that token! Anyway… There used to be this game there I loved. I was really good at it, too! For ages I had all the top ten scores… then one day, I showed up, and bam! Eleventh place. Just a whole screen of someone else’s initials. I was so pissed! So, I spent all day bumping those scores down. The next week, I came back- same thing!”
“That’s kind of how arcade games work , sweetheart… I’m not sure where you are going with this…”
“The Holts got that old cabinet Ms. Pacman game… and you got the high score,” Lance continued, “and that reminded me of how much I used to love that arcade. Especially that one game, and then I remembered this whole rivalry I had created with this mystery kid that kept blowing all my scores out of the water… and then I saw how you tagged your high score on Ms. Pacman… B. O. M.”
“Oh… yeah… that… It was like, this fitness club thing in my hometown that my Mom was in when I was a kid. I think it was Kendo? I was really little and I created this whole thing in my head where it was like the movies… it kind of just stuck with me.”
“Awww that’s super cute! I used to tag mine for Loverboy Lance. LBL. You used to really love playing the Galaxy Garrison Space Flight Sim Game, didn’t you?”
“Oh Man! That game was awesome! My favorite level was the asteroid belt! I had the top scores in my whole class- how did you know?”
“Because you kept beating my scores, babe,” Lance chuckled, leaning in to kiss him softly. “We didn’t officially meet until later, but that’s the first place our paths crossed. That arcade. That game. We probably passed by each other dozens of times without ever knowing… you know… that we’d eventually be… us !” He shrugged, “so… I found a couple of tokens from there… got them turned into keychains. Take a closer look at yours…”
He did, letting the cheap metal coin lay flat on his palm. The old logo stared up at him, stirring up memories he hadn’t thought about in years, but there was nothing unusual about it aside from the hole punched through the upper edge to attach it to the keyring, so he flipped it over. The other side had been buffed smooth, the original lettering gone. In its place was an engraving that said ‘BOM+LBL=TLA’. “This is… you didn’t even know for sure that was me!”
“Keith- it was a space flight simulator game. I’ve seen you play those. I knew it was you,” he said with a wry laugh. “This city is not that big!”
“Oh my God, this is so… sweet! But… TLA??”
“You don’t know what that is?” Lance asked, blushing slightly, “you know… that thing kids doodle about their crushes in middle school?”
He shook his head, still not able to tear his eyes away from the keychain.
“TLA- it stands for True Love Always.” Slipping his arms around Keith’s waist, Lance hooked his chin over Keith’s shoulder and pressed up against his back, snuggling close. “Blade of Marmora plus Loverboy Lance equals True Love Always. I did the math.”
“True love…”
“Always,” Lance finished for him, “that’s important. No matter what life throws at us, I’m not going anywhere.”
It was a little awkward, but he managed to twist and crane until he could kiss Lance, “I love it. Today was… the perfect Christmas. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he answered, pulling Keith into another kiss and Keith sighed, because he was right. Normally, Keith would tell him to leave the math to Pidge, but he trusted Lance on this one: BOM+LBL=TLA
~Fini~
Krolia’s Favorite Boozey Blueberry Pie
Crust:
1c real butter, room temperature
2c flour
1/2c icing sugar
1/4tsp EACH cardamom and ginger
Pinch of salt
Combine dry ingredients
Cream butter, slowly sifting dry ingredients into it, being careful not to overmix the dough
Chill in fridge while oven preheats to 350f
Press shortbread mix into pie plate and make sure the dough wraps up over the edge slightly when you flute it.
Cover crust with parchment paper and fill with beans or pie weights to prevent bubbles.
Bake for 9-12 minutes until a very pale golden brown and not quite cooked through.
Let cool almost completely before filling. Warm is fine, hot is not
Filling:
1 c (slightly heaped) of sour cream
1 large egg
3tbsp brown sugar
1tsp vanilla
1/4tsp cardamom (for wet ingredients)
2 1/2c fresh blueberries
1tbsp icing sugar
2tsp cornstarch
1/8tsp EACH cardamom and ginger (for dry ingredients)
Preheat oven to 375f.
Rinse blueberries well and set to drain.
Combine icing sugar, cornstarch, cardamom, and ginger in medium sized baking bowl.
Toss blueberries in dry ingredients to coat, then add to the pie crust.
Blend wet ingredients together and pour over blueberries.
Gently tap and jiggle pie pan as you add the sour cream mixture to ensure there are no bubbles or gaps.
Bake for 25-30 minutes until edges are set and middle no longer looks like uncooked liquid. If crust browns too quickly, gently cover with strips of foil.
Cool on counter for at least 45 minutes before serving.
Sauce (can be made ahead):
2tbsp lemon juice
1tbsp white sugar
2tsp grated fresh gingerroot
2 c fresh blueberries, rinsed and drained
2tbsp whiskey
Heat lemon juice, sugar, gingerroot, and blueberries in a medium saucepan over medium to medium-high heat for five minutes.
Remove from heat to mash with a potato masher, or puree with a stick/immersion blender Return to stove on medium low heat and stir frequently to prevent sauce from sticking or scorching until it thickens to just barely past desired texture.
Remove from heat and thin with whiskey.
Set aside to cool or serve warm.