Work Text:
Winter at Camp Hermit is always the best time of year, in Martyn’s eyes. From snowball fights to special capture-the-flag games, from singing festive songs to the hushed and sacred celebrations of the Solstice, there isn’t anything he would want to change about it. When he’d first arrived here, broken, bruised, and confused, the winter celebrations had been the only thing that got Martyn out of bed and kept him going throughout the day.
Far and away, though, his favorite part of winter at Camp Hermit is the day after the first snowfall, when it’s time to decorate the Big House.
After Xisuma’s death- or, more accurately, Evil Xisuma’s death (although the actual Xisuma is dead as well, and has been for a while, even though no one had known it until recently. The whole situation is weird), Martyn had worried that there wouldn't be a decorating day at the Big House this year. With all the tumultuousness of the past few months and rebuilding after Chaos still very much in the forefront of everyone’s minds, Martyn had eventually resigned himself to the fact that most of his favorite winter celebrations would not be taking place. Under Xisuma, they absolutely wouldn’t be.
But Phil’s the one in charge now. And if there’s one thing Martyn knows about Phil, it’s that he loves his winter traditions almost as much as Martyn.
So here he is, up in the Big House’s largest room- a cozy common area, outfitted with folding chairs and tables laden with crafting products. Martyn had immediately gravitated towards the snowflake-making station. Concentrating hard on the deftness of his scissor strokes, Martyn cuts a triangular, folded piece of paper with random patterns. Making paper snowflakes is one of his favorite things- year after year, Martyn’s snowflakes dance along the windows of the Big House all winter long. He loves doing other things to help decorate too, of course- hanging the mistletoe (and luring Ren under it), building snowmen out front, all sorts of awesome stuff. But paper snowflakes are Martyn’s favorite .
He unfolds the one he’s been making, and produces a satisfied chuff at the beautiful patterns that turn the paper almost to lace. Delicate, fractal, and perfect .
“Good lookin’, gorgeous.” A deep voice sounds from behind Martyn, and he turns, smiling. Ren presses a suave kiss to his cheek as he sits down beside him, his sunglasses obscure brilliant blue eyes. Ren strips off his old-fashioned red felt coat, cheeks ruddy from the cold outside.
“The snowflake or me?” Martyn jokes, smirking as he sets his creation down and moves his full attention onto his beloved. They’ve been dating for, what, three years now? A long time, basically. What had started as a team-up in a capture the flag game has spiralled into a fast-growing friendship and then, only a few months later, Martyn’s first and as-of-yet only relationship.
“Ahhh, Sir Marteen,” Ren dramatizes, earning a chuckle from Martyn. One of the things he loves the most about the son of Dionysus are his theatrical talents. And even if they o come off as pretentious to other people sometimes, Ren just doesn’t seem to care, and Martyn admires that a lot. “Why not both? I do declare, although the snowflake is wonderful, your pale beauty dwarfs even that.”
“Aww, stoppit,” Martyn says, rolling his eyes fondly. He doesn’t think he’s in possession of any sort of ‘pale beauty’, but hey- he’ll take compliments from Ren any day. “You flatterer.”
“Well, my flattery is not without purpose!” Ren says, dropping the overly-dramatic act seamlessly. “Martyn, I really want to make a gingerbread house. Will you join me?”
“Sure.” Martyn agrees easily, re-folding his latest snowflake and putting it into the bin with the rest of them. “I can hang these bad boys up later.”
“That you can.” Ren smiles. “Now c’mon! The walls and roofs and stuff are in the kitchen, but we can just take them back here, and you won’t have to leave your snowflakes for long.”
Martyn smiles, a little touched by his boyfriend’s kindness, no matter how much he should be used to it by now. Hey, sue him- it’s not like he got a whole ton of that growing up. “Alright. I’ve actually never made a gingerbread house before, though. D’you know how to do it?”
“I’ve never made one either,” Ren admits, voice hushed, like it’s some deep secret he’s telling Martyn. “How hard can it be, though?”
As it turns out, very .
“Oh my god just stick together why won’t you stick together?!” Martyn yells sometime later as, once again, the roof slips off of the four wobbly walls he and Ren had managed to stick together.
“Dude, the walls are falling down again,” Ren informs him. The son of Dionysus is currently doing his best to hold said walls together as Martyn tries to stick on the roof once more, but people only have so many hands, and it’s clear that Ren is struggling.
“Ugh!” Martyn slumps back in a wave of defeat and annoyance, and the roof slips right off, landing in a propped-up position against the wall of the house, which then tips inwards. It’s a mess. “Why does this have to be so difficult?”
Ren chuckles deeply. “I think maybe we’re just bad at it, Marty.”
“Don’t call me Marty,” Martyn grumbles half-heartedly. He doesn’t really mind, and both him and Ren know it.
Ren raises his eyebrows, lowering his voice even further, so that the deepness of it is almost comical. “Oh, Marty, I’ll call you what I want when I want.” Martyn snorts and hits him. “Hey!” Ren’s voice pitches up again, like a wounded puppy, at the remark.
“You get as much as you give,” Martyn informs him, grinning as he continues reclining. “I think this is a lost cause, by the way. We should just give up.”
Ren’s gaze turns sad. “But what about all this delicious gingerbread?” he mourns as he finally takes his hands away and allows the walls to fall.
Martyn shrugs. “I mean, we could give it to other people? I’m sure there’s someone who wants to make a house as well.”
“We could…,” Ren trails off, grinning wickedly. “ Or we could just, you know-”
Raising his eyebrows, Martyn smirks. “We could .”
Taking the gingerbread wall, Ren splits it in half with a deft crack . He offers a half to Martyn, and the son of Hermes accepts. They clink the gingerbread halves together like shot glasses, before digging in.
It’s not delicious. It clearly wasn’t meant to be- more supposed to be sturdy and buildable. But together, Ren and Martyn eat the whole house just the same. The thick icing meant to hold the pieces together is tangy and probably rife with salmonella, but Martyn just can’t bring himself to care.
Once their bellies are bloated and only a few crumbs left on the plate they’d been attempting to set the house up on, Ren leans back with a satisfied sigh.
“Did it taste good?” Martyn asks, fully knowing it most definitely did not.
“I dunno,” Ren answers instead, shrugging mischievously. He leans in quickly, hands wrapping around Martyn’s waist as he kisses him firmly. “You do, though.”
Martyn flushes, looking up at the son of Dionysus. “Ex- excuse me?!”
“I said what I said.” Ren sighs, satisfied, and releases him. “Why don’t we get back to snowflakes now, eh? Some crafts might just be too much for the two of us to manage.”
“Defeated by a gingerbread house,” Martyn says, remorseful. “It’s a dark day for the Renchanting boys.”
Ren chuckles, and the two of them sit back down. For the next few hours, they make snowflakes, trading stories and laughing all the while. And when said snowflakes are hung in the windows of the Big House, well… Martyn doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.