#thomasxflotsam

He got Flo and Scout to tell him exactly what they wanted to get for one another, and for those back in New Orleans. Brilliant, right? That way he could run out and get everything, get it all wrapped up, get it mailed off or bring it home to put under the tree, and no one would know what they got one another, adding a bit of a surprise to it all. That was one of the fun parts about Christmas, at least to him. Seeing the surprise when people opened what gifts he got them. So obviously he was going to help in sharing that with his family.

That and he finally got those Ugly Christmas sweaters. He wore the one he picked out for himself on the long car ride home from the city, blasting the AC, playing two of the only decent Christmas songs that he knew to try to bring himself into that festive spirit and ignore all the green around him for the first time. White was gonna be his favorite color this month.

He walked into the house with the gift bags and exclaimed loudly upon walking in the door, “Ho Ho Ho Fuckers! Come get yer sweaters.”

One for his spouse. One for his daughter.

They all had their reasons for wanting to drink tonight. The Esmeralda situation. The River and Summer situation. Either way, it was time to leave that shit behind because it was Game Night in Clopin and Kuzco’s room.

Candyland themed of course. Sweet shots, sweet cocktails, lotsa candy, it was lit in there, disco ball going, turning everything bright and sparkly in that bedroom. Twister mat on the ground, Truth or Dare Jenga all set up on an end-table, card deck, UNO card deck, and a game of Headbandz where Clopin had made all the cards because who wanted to pretend to be a cat when they could be the three-titted woman from Total Recall.

Literally as soon as the unmarried couple came in, Clopin was up to them with the first shots. Tequila. “Think we all need this to start the night off, what do you think?”

This was, Thomas thought, one of the  best ideas that he ever had. Getting them both out of the house seemed important. He had been pretty much on carpool duty for Summer, which he didn’t mind at all but that really didn’t constitute as ‘going out’. And it wasn’t just a hang out at a bar where people would be coming up to Flotsam and asking for autographs or trying to bug him. This was a way to just ... clear the mind.

He drove down towards the docks, stopping on the way at a supermarket, and told Flotsam to stay in there. He came out with a couple of bags, which would be loaded into the trunk - and then brought with him when they arrived at the destination.

“So - I rented us a boat,” He told Flotsam once they were parked. “Just for a couple of hours. Get some air, listen to the water-” He held up the bags from the supermarket. “-Bit of a picnic. Comes with some fishing gear if that’s what you’re into, though I’ve always been too squeamish to actually take the hook out of the fish’s mouth.” He shuddered a little, remembering the feeling of doing it as a kid. Gnarly. “Just thought it’d be a bit of fun but we don’t have ta’ if you don’t want to.”

Flotsam set him up, like he said he would, with one of his tattoo artist pals. All of Flotsam’s tattoos looked amazing so he was trying to have some faith in the artist. But like he though before - this was a very important project. He looked over to the passenger seat, his date for the day joining him to talk to him through the appointment and drive back if he got too sore. A little smirk over in that direction. “I’m glad you gave me this idea,” He’d say. “Just another way for me to prove how much you mean to me too.”

But now that she was trying to prove herself to the camp, it felt like it was the right time. How was she ever going to be the strong, confident, loyal wolf that they wanted her to be if she couldn’t even give the dads a present?

With shaky hands, she’d bring the bag inside. Would avoid looking at anyone’s eye. Ugh, she wished she could just get over this. The bag was large. It was heavy. There was a card sticking out from beneath the tissue paper. She’d stand in front of the closed door. Deep breath. A knock.

“Come in,” She’d hear her dad’s voice after a minute. But she stared at the doorknob. Oh god. She couldn’t handle seeing their faces when they opened it. She’d just drop it and then would walk, stiffed backed to the living room and would sit down on the couch, mentally cursing herself for not actually being strong enough to handle giving it to them. She ran her fingers stiffly through her blonde curls, waiting to hear yelling or something similar. Maybe she shouldn’t have done it after all.

Thomas would have to get out of bed and open the door curiously. He’d see the gift, raise an eyebrow, and bring it inside, closing the door gently behind him. He brought out the card and saw the familiar swirly writing. “Oh, guess she finally finished up the wedding gift,” He’d say, placing the bag on the end of the bed. He noticed how heavy it was. It was up to Flo whether to open it or not.

And if they did open up the present, they would find a quilt. Entirely hand made. Not your grandma’s square or triangle type quilt either but it had a design on it that Thomas could only see when he held it up. It was taller than him, holy shit. She had used her isolation hours on this, he could tell.

The pattern was that of a wolf. Different types of greys and blacks and bright blues made it. Some were fur. Some were cotton. Some were old torn up t-shirts. There was even some silk that she had gotten from Angela.

@cryptid-killjoy​

This was totally better than how Thomas had planned to spend his night, which was lounging on the couch, eating the snacks leftover from the movie night while the Fig and Summer were upstairs giggling and doing whatever teenagers do at slumber parties. As soon as he got the go ahead from Fotsam to pick him up, he hollered a be back soon, got in the car and took a ride down to Bourbon Street.

He slowed down once he reached the actual road, scanning everything and everyone until he saw the familiar black mess that was Flotsam Laveau. And he was in a right state, just by the looks of him. He could smell the whiskey from here. He pulled onto the side of the road, leaned over and opened the passenger door.

“Hey,” He whistled to get his attention. “Let’s do some karaoke on the way home, eh?”

He walked in calm. Controlled. If he went in freaking out, things were sure to get out of hand. He learned that from Jetsam. Don’t go raging in like a moron. He put away the few things that he had went out to grab in the first place, then walked towards their shared bedroom. He knocked on the door, nervous of what he would see when he stepped inside because oh, things were not feeling good.

And he would get his ass off of the couch and would go to where Flotsam was, heart beating fast. Before this, being a straight man, of course he liked tits. Adolescence was Victoria’s Secret catalogues stashed between the mattress. But now - now he’d love anything on that body, whether it was a piercing, tattoo, or a new body part. He’d love him if he had five arms. Just three more to be groped with, fuck yes.

He’d put his hand on the door knob. Deep breath. And then he’d open it and slip inside, closing it behind him, wanting this to be as much for just him as it was possible to be, given that he had been looking in the mirror at himself. And - “Whoa baby.”