Chapter Text
December 20th, 1993
Fanny had once said that nothing ever changed in Button Manor barring the slow (and not so slow in some cases) decay of the building itself. She claimed it was caught in a perpetual cycle: people moved in, they lived, they died, the house went empty for a few years, someone else would take it up, cycle repeat.
And on January 5th, 1994, that cycle was going to end.
No one would die, but all the rooms would be emptied, and no one would live there ever again.
That didn’t mean it was the end of Button Manor, of course. It was too stubborn a thing for that. The museum director said they’d have it fixed up by July at the latest, then ready to open to the masses (figuratively speaking), by August. He'd eagerly showed them all the plans, how every flat was going to be redesigned to resemble a different decade, a different era the manor had lived through. He was particularly excited by the eighth, where people would be lucky enough to get a glimpse of a genuine gun used on the front lines, smuggled home from the barracks.
Pat liked to think that the manor would also show a flicker of the lives that had once passed through it’s halls - the dent in the living room ceiling made by a young couple with a particularly excited bottle of champagne, the flower beds sprawling across the grounds that had been cared for by a kind and strange woman, an ink mark here, a forgotten pen lid there-
A testament to a group of people that were strange and messy and, most importantly, loved each other dearly.
But it wasn’t January 5th, 1994 just yet. The manor was still filled and merry, and everyone was downstairs, drinking mulled wine and singing along to the Christmas carols on the radio.
Everyone except for Pat, who was giving his plants a much-needed drink. And, honestly, himself some much-needed quiet. The remainder that this Christmas was going to be the last kept creeping up on him at the worst of times, and he found himself scurrying away to dry his eyes and calm down.
He'd mostly settled now, and was almost ready to face the crowd, but a few more seconds wouldn't hurt.
K N O C K / K N O C K
He smiled, putting the watering can down. “Very clever.”
Ted chuckled and stepped inside. "I rather thought it was." He was clad in a horrible tacky Christmas jumper that had pom-pom sewed on randomly (which made hugging him an interesting experience, and a Santa hat, green tinsel wrapped and sellotaped to his cane, curtsey of Kitty.
He looked wonderfully relaxed, and Pat was pleased to note he'd not seen that awful tweed jacket once since the Halloween party last year. Pat only hoped he was relaxed enough to sit still and smile for a few photos...
Ted bent down for a kiss, his lips sweet, not from the wine, but instead from the box of quality street he'd been hoarding. God forbid anyone try and sneak one when he wasn't looking; he was very territorial when it came to chocolate.
"Someone’s been packing, I see," he said once he pulled back.
Pat shrugged, slipping his arms around the man's waist. " Didn’t see the point until waiting after Christmas. Not like I’m going to need any of my summer clothes before then."
"I agree, but unfortunately, Kitty will tell me off if I do that. She is very determined that I will not start packing until the week before."
"You better get used to that sort of behaviour."
He sighed. "I know. And I do love her dearly, but good lord, I have no idea whether I’m going to survive living with her."
"It’ll only be for a few months, and then we’ll have the place to ourselves," Pat assured him.
"Hmm? And how do you know that?"
Pat flicked one of the pom-pon, grinning at the other's man's scowl. "Well, Margot's been dropping some hints about feeling lonely and how big the house feels with only her and Rachel..."
"Of course she has," he grumbled.
Pat laughed, nudging him playfully. "Come on, it's not like that. Margot just wants some company, and Kitty could do with having more girl friends. They'll be wearing matching friendship bracelets before month one, I'm telling you now."
"If you say so, dear," Ted sighed. Then, he glanced to the side. "Is that mistletoe?"
"That’s a peace lilly, and it’s on the windowsill."
"Oh, yes, seems it is. I still think we should kiss, just in case."
Pat rolled his eyes, grinning up at Ted. "You're terrible."
"Maybe so. Kiss me anyway?"
He did, why wouldn't he?
A loud cheer from downstairs broke them apart a few seconds, later, and Pat glanced over to the door. "Best go down there and keep an eye on them before things get too crazy. There’s still time for someone to accidentally set the place on fire."
"We best do," Ted agreed, reluctantly, though he was still smiling. He stole one more kiss before pulling away, brushing a hand against Pat's jaw. "I do love you terribly."
"And I love you wonderfully."
"This isn't a competition, Patrick."
Pat laughed as he threaded his fingers through Ted's, warming the man's cool palm, and the two of them left the room.
This, he thought, might be their last Christmas in Button Manor, but it wouldn't be their last Christmas together, not by a long shot.
Outside, snow began to fall.