mindpalace2k15:

It starts with a Christmas movie and a little too much to drink. (It is the first day of Saturnalia, after all, don’t forget to partake of a little refreshment yourselves.)

“FROSTY THE SNOWMAN, LA LA LA LA LA CHOPPER LA.”

And the next thing Galahad knows, he’s being dragged out to the snow, ordered to start packing and rolling it. They are making a man. Tristan is excited, gestures everywhere and kisses him on the cheek. A man of snow.

But unfortunately, that turns out to be easier said than done, the snow breaking when Tristan handles it too roughly, swearing under his tongue, telling Galahad he’s not being careful enough, or falling to powder when the knight sends himself back into the pile without warning, laughing raucously, eyes twinkling, until Galahad sighs and joins him, lips tangling into warm kisses, before they get up and start again.

Finally though, there is a base,  No more smashing, Tristan promises, taking a sip from his bottle of ale, and a body, heavy, it falls apart twice as they try to lift it, but third time’s the charm. And finally, a head appears.

The movie had some something about a carrot, Tristan frowns, but they only have rocks and sticks, so they make do. And in the end, Galahad considers, tilting his head from side to side, it’s really not bad. A bit strangely formed, face mildly terrifying, but as good as a man of snow could look, he decides. Smiling.

But Tristan doesn’t join him.

“It is not moving.” He sounds decidedly put out. “It was supposed to sing and dance.” A tap to its head, prodding it as though waiting for it to jump to life. “Why is it not moving?”

The other knight pauses to look at him, blinking for a moment, trying to determine the level of actual seriousness being put into the thought, and then with a wink, they’re both laughing. Chuckles falling from their lips, cold air fogging around their faces.

“But I do -” Tristan’s mouth is brushing against Galahad’s ear suddenly and he shudders, pressing back against the body. The tone is silky, trouble incarnate, and Galahad is aware, with sudden certainty, that whatever is about to be said, it’s only going to lead to more trouble. He arches his neck back as kisses come, but he’s already agreed, whatever it is, and they both know it.  “Have a suggestion how we could make someone sing and dance.”

“Do you?”  A groan back, and Tristan’s lips curve against his throat.

Oh yes.

is that Alex carapetis and Jeff kite