“Holiday Insights”

Fight Procrastination Day is today. It’s a day to get things done, a call to action.

“Tuhday’s Fight Procrastination Day,” Ellis noted during their lunch hour, perched in Keith’s lap as they enjoyed sandwiches to the chorus of rain on the garage’s roof. “Yer s’posed tuh do summin tuh celebrate.” He munched cheerfully, leaning back into his boyfriend’s chest. “Like shit we been puttin’ off.”

“We’ll do it later,” said Keith, and that was the end of that. 

Awe, dude, Ah love co-ops an’ firs’ person shooters most. Halo, Team Fortress 2, Borderlands, Call uh Duty, Sanctum, Marvel Ultimate Alliance.. An’ arcade-kinduh fighters like Tekken, Marvel versus Capcom, Soul Caliber, Mortal Kombat, Streetfighter… An’ a’course racin’ games, Gran Turismo, Gotham City Racin’, Need fer Speed Underground, Shift 2… 

Most games yuh play awn yer own git real’ borin’ after uhwhile.. took me like five years tuh beat Castlevania fer th’N64 cus Ah kept losin’ int’rust alone even tho it wus uh real’ cool game. An’ Ah still ain’t beat neither uh th’Batman Arkham games. 

Ah think th’only game Ah beat awl awn mah own an’ didn’t mind none wus th’Aquaman game fer th’Gamecube back when Ah wus still in highschool. Mah buddy Keith said it wus lame as hell, an’ it wus purdy awful, but it’s still mah favorite game uh awl time.

It’s got sentimental value, ain’t gonnuh lie. 

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He’s uh real’ good dog s’long as yuh keep’im busy.

Riggs’s got more toys than mah lil’ bros do now. Cus Ah git ‘im uh couple thangs erry time Ah go tuh th’grocery store cus they got like uh whole aisle fer pets, an’ we take trips up tuh th’pet store since they le’chuh bring yer dogs in. He still ain’t too good at fetch, cus he’ll bring th’ball back, but he ain’t gonnuh let yew take it ‘less yuh snag it while he’s jumpin’ away from yuh. He’s real’ good with tug toys like them braided ropes, an’ he’ll git right up in Keith’s lap with one if he wants Keith tuh yank awn it. *Smiles, scuffing his heel on the floor* He likes th’lil’ treat balls yuh can git stuffed with snacks thah he’s gottuh break open ‘er wiggle ‘round ‘til th’food falls out, cus it gives ‘im summin tuh do. 

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“Holiday Insights”

Be Late For Something Day is a great day to be a procrastinator. If you are among the millions of us who never seem to be able to stay on schedule, then you will certainly enjoy today.

“Oh, lord,” Ellis groaned throatily, still perched in Keith’s lap as they both drifted back down to earth and the sweat and heavy breathing that they sported there, his body swaying briefly before he managed to untangle himself from the cobwebs of pleasure and ease over onto his side beside his lover. “Best way tuh wake up,” he cooed comfortably, rolling onto his stomach and stretching in an arch like a cat, ass damp with a trickle of cum.

“Or go back tuh sleep fer uh bit,” mumbled Keith, his baby blues half-lidded as he opened an arm in invitation; when Ellis obediently snuggled into his embrace, Keith kicked the blanket back up around them. Too much warmth from their mutually exhausted bodies toasted away what little wakefulness he’d acquired, and he was asleep again in minutes.

Ellis – his cheek pillowed on Keith’s chest, stubble scratching the slightest prickle of chest hair – smiled to himself, whispering in a rasp, “In th’spirit uh th’day, sh’ore thang.”

They slept until Dave’s ringtone jarred them awake both fifty minutes later. 

“Holiday Insights”

Newspaper Carrier Day recognizes the importance of newspaper carriers in getting the newspaper each day into the hands of millions of readers. This day honors carriers all over the world, as they deliver the paper diligently in all kinds of weather conditions.

“It’s Newspaper Carrier Day,” Ellis said over breakfast, shoveling pancakes in his mouth with whipped cream lingering on his thick lips thereafter; he licked at it to no avail. “That dude is uh asshole.”

“He is,” Keith agreed with a snort, turning the page of said delivered paper. “Is that why yew didn’t wish’im uh happy day?” he asked with a twitching smirk.

“Man, Ah’d sooner take uh leak awn his car,” Ellis snorted, thieving the community announcements page to coo over people he didn’t know. “Hand me th’opinion page when yer done, mah ‘scopes’re awn th’backside.”  

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and I will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

Lunch lagged on as the combined families poured over various dishes Ellis had concocted in his cooking spree, his coleslaw apparently among the best his mother’s boyfriend ever had; Ellis fixed him with a cold stare until Brad returned to eating in silence.

Keith and his mother helped Ellis bring the uneaten or partially demolished food back inside to be wrapped, and as Abby trailed back outside to gather more, Keith pinned Ellis against the counter with a long, lingering kiss, his tongue coaxing a soft whimper from his little lover. “Wut’s wrong, shortcake?” he questioned tenderly, aware of Nick’s disappearance and El’s subtle dip in mood; he stroked a thumb over Ellis’s jaw.

Ellis elaborated on what he’d seen softly, leaning into the strength of Keith’s taller body and allowing his heat to envelope him entirely. He was exhausted and Keith seemed content to take some of that weariness in his arms as he rocked his boyfriend side to side. “Ah love yew,” Ellis murmured, head tucked beneath Keith’s chin, “Christ, yuh make it easy tuh breathe when Ah’m damn-near strangled.”

Abby returned and they hesitantly eased apart, Ellis turning to busy himself with tinfoil and plastic wrap. “Sum uh this is goin’ home with y’all,” he insisted, grinning as he bumped hips with Keith, “Even Keith can’t eat awl this.” 

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and I will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

Ellis listened to the door close a second time from the kitchen and winced, the familiar purr of Nick’s mustang starting up giving his stomach a sour twist; naturally the conman would go after his boyfriend-beating lover – Nick was a man of bad addictions; better to drown in it than give it up for good.

Instead of chasing after him, the brunette gathered the last potato dish from the microwave on fingers tendered by the heat and swept outside with the biggest grin possible. “Meal time!” he crowed, trying to ignore how miserable Arden looked perched in his mother’s lap and Keith’s questioning look at the mechanic returning with his friend amiss.

Because they were short chairs, Ellis perched himself on his boyfriend’s knees, holding his plate aloft as he shoveled through his casseroles and salads with pleasure, delighted with the meal’s success based on the pleasant noises and expressions his guests made.

“This is delicious, darlin’,” Keith said in El’s ear; Ellis was glowing, and Keith couldn’t resist sneaking a kiss despite Chris giving them the stink eye from across the table. “Hush,” he snorted, flicking a balled napkin at his little brother.

“How come Lissy gits t’sit in Keef’s lap?” Maybel whined from where he was sitting in Brad’s, fitting bits of a baked roll to Riggs each time the puppy whimpered and swished his tail expectantly. “Ah wan’ sit there!”

“It’s time tuh eat,” Sarah murmured, doling another handful of chips beside the boy’s hot dog, “Lissy set up th’pool fer yew two so th’sooner yuh eat, th’sooner yew can splash around.” 

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and I will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

Ellis returned to the kitchen for another helping of food when he heard a rap on the door, confusion – the cold, furrowed-brow realization – flitting across his features as he headed down the hall to answer it. Overalls was green in the face but otherwise looked inappropriately normal, standing at nearly the same height as Ellis as the two stared at one another in the midst of a summer breeze.

“Speak uh th’devil.” Ellis shut the door behind himself.

“Nick’s here, right?” Overalls asked a little apprehensively, obviously on edge despite his appearance, “Cus Ah gottuh talk –”

“If yew hurt him, yew best git outtuh town.” The words dripped with cold iron malice, as frigid as a fresh frost and as stiff and sharp as an axe’s blade. Ellis’s friendly grin was frozen in place like a plastic mask, rigid and cloaking. “If yew ever even once laid uh goddamn finger awn mah best friend, Ah want yew outtuh mah face a’fore Ah bust yer skull open.”

Overalls, stilled in his shock, blurted, “Ah jus’ need tuh talk –”

“Man, yew don’t even deny it!” Ellis said loudly, birds taking flight from the rose bushes he and Keith had planted months before. “Git th’hell outtuh here, asshole. He don’t need yew.” His stubbled chin lifted. “Yew ain’t welcome.”

The double of himself stared at Ellis for another long moment before stepping back, turning on his heel and stiffly walking towards the ford parked out front. Ellis watched him go before moving back into the house.  

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

Ellis kept himself buzzing busily by stacking cold dishes from the fridge for Nick to bring out to the back yard, reheating and stirring warm foods for better serving; potato salad, macaroni, three bean casserole, steamed corn on the cob, garlic potatoes, coleslaw, pasta salad, a berry cobbler – Ellis withdrew the last, stowing it back in the fridge after a moment of consideration. Desert would be far later and the cobbler was only one among several dishes.

He stepped into the living room in search of Nick to hand off another stack of food when he nearly ran intoArden, the small boy tugging furiously at Nick’s shirt in an attempt to stop the man from stepping outside. “Jesus,” Ellis muttered, the conman’s side visible with how the boy yanked at the fabric of his button-down; bandaids were assembled over a gash, edges of the wound still visible, surrounded by a deep purpling flush. “Th’hell happened tuh yew?”

“Fell in the garage,” Nick said immediately, finally gettingArden’s hand loose with a wince. “It’s fine.”

“No it ain’t!”Ardeninsisted, bouncing at his father figure once more, “It wus ‘Valls.”

“Overalls?” Ellis echoed in surprise, staring at Nick.

“He doesn’t know what he’s –”

“It wus Valls last time!” Arden snarled indignantly, clearly fed up with his statements being ignored. Ellis paused for a long moment before eyeing Nick with a narrowed edging to his eyes.  

“Ah got this,” said Ellis bluntly, taking the food out of Nick’s arms as the gambler attempted to protest, “There’s more bandages in th’bathroom, yer poppin’ outtuh them bandaids.”  

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

“There y’all are,” blurted Ellis the moment he open the door for his best friend, forgoing a hug to instead grab Nick’s arm and haul him towards the kitchen, foisting an armload of foil-topped dishes into the conman’s embrace. “Help me take this shit outside.”

Nick chuckled, allowing Ellis to percautiously balance additional fool on the already ample stack; his side was a roar of flames but he said nothing of it. “I told you I’d come early if you needed help.”

“Ah don’t need help,” Ellis insisted, topping the tower with a bowl of grape tomatoes in direct contradiction to his statement, “Now bring them thangs out so folks don’t starve.”

Nick poorly hid his smirk as he turned to shuffle through the dining room, intercepted by the tiny arms of Arden being flung around his legs. “Daddy!” he whispered desperately, pawing at his shirt, “Mommy said yew were here.”

Pain seared hot and tight up his side, crackling out into the softest of agonized exhales as Nick eased away from the boy’s grabbing fingers. “Easy there, champ,” he muttered tightly, trying to smile, “Daddy doesn’t feel so good.”

“Get goin’!” Ellis called from the kitchen, “Ah got two more trips fer yew!” 

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

Sarah showed up just after two, toting her three year old sons and the handsome, broad-shouldered sheriff she was dating; the twins were dressed in blue, Maybel’s tight blonde curls tucked up from his face with barrettes Ellis aggressively disliked him wearing. “Oh, stop,” Sarah dismissed, kissing her eldest son’s cheek and opening her arms for Keith, “He’s three, he can wear whatever th’hell he damn well pleases – Abby, hi,” she said loudly, sliding an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “Nice tuh finally see yew.”

Maybel was deposited in Keith’s arms, the lanky redhead holding him on his hip as he moved back to the table for a snack; the child chattered away until abruptly going silent upon seeing Christopher wrestling with Riggs, his face tucking into Keith’s shoulder in a random display of shyness. “Issat yer brov’ur?” he whispered loudly.

“Mhm,” Keith hummed around a mouthful of chips, swallowing down the swell of food in his cheek and grinning as he tickled the side of May’s neck. “No reason tuh be shy.”

“Ain’t it nice tuh see yew,” Ellis said blandly to the sheriff; Brad opened his mouth to reply and Ellis immediately strode into the house for more food. 

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

“Ma, I got it,” Keith said in annoyance the fifth time his mother corrected his technique, their banter barely noticed by Ellis and Chris as they played keep away with the dog’s bone, Riggs yapping wildly as he loped across the yard in pursuit of his beloved chew toy.

Chris tripped and toppled across the grass, fingers barely fumbling the bone as he fell, still managing to toss it back before Riggs could pounce him and steal it. The dog bellowed a series of sharp barks and took off back across the grass.

“Chris, get up, yer stainin’ yer clothes,” Abby chastised, tagging her older son with, “That’s too much seasonin’, Keith.”  

Ellis gave the future vet a hand up, laughing beltingly as Riggs bounced and pawed between them, nearly throwing them both over in his frantic attempts to bite up his bone. “Sorry, Abby,” he apologized, smacking some of the dirt from Chris’s shirt, “Ah shudn’t be throwin’ so rough.”

“Yer not th’one who went rollin’ in th’grass,” Abby said loudly with an arched eyebrow.

“Naw, Ah got it!” Ellis announced as he spat in a napkin. “Hold still,” he added, snagging the front of Chris’s shirt in an attempt to wipe away the wide streak of a grass stain from his side.

Chris immediately began to wriggle away, objecting with smacked hands at El’s wadded napkin, and Abby gave her older son a long look with slanted brows. 

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

Ellis hugged both Keith’s mother and his little brother the moment he answered the door, thumping the latter on the back briefly – apparently not yet forgiving of the time Chris had chosen his own friends over Ellis and Keith for companionship at Whispering Oaks. They were getting slightly more at ease with his frequently given embraces and Abby even smiled, offering a hello as Ellis moved aside to let them into the entrance hall.

The survivor led the way through the house and into the back yard, where Keith lifted his tongs in greeting and Riggs dove at Chris’s legs with a delighted flurry of yapping and bouncing. “He likes yew,” Ellis said thoughtfully, a slow grin forming as the slight edge he’d had towards the teenager dwindled, “Yer gonnuh make uh damn good vet if yew charm awl uh yer animals s’easy.”

Chris laughed and plucked the misplaced bone from the grass - ignoring Keith’s “he don’t play fetch” - and giving it a toss across the yard. Riggs took off at a loping run, scooping it up in his bared teeth and bringing it back immediately. “Guess I got wut Keith didn’t,” he snickered, snagging the bone and throwing it again.

“Hey,” objected the redhead at the grill, “Riggs worships th’ground I walk awn. He’s jus’ playin’ yew fer treats.” 

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]

Ellis had pleaded for an outdoor set and thus one stood in Keith’s back yard, the table now sprawled with cold dishes wrapped in tinfoil and plates and cutlery posed for impending guests. The redhead took the dog out into the fenced grass, wisely working out some of the pup’s energy with a game of fetch that was more Riggs running back and forth and refusing to return the bone than anything else. Ellis brought out two stabs of ribs and all the sauces and seasoning Keith had suggested, and the older male jogged back over to relieve him of the burden and start grilling.

“How’s yer back?” Keith asked lightly as he doused the charcoal with a somewhat excessive amount of gasoline, “Still sore?”

“Not s’bad tuhday,” Ellis confessed amicably, taking a slow sip of beer that he’d snagged from the cooler. The humidity was steadily crawling, the promise of thunderstorms on the horizon despite the persistent sunshine. “Damn, Ah love th’smell uh gasoline!” he crowed, inhaling softly when Keith lit it up.

“Yer weird, shortcake,” Keith chuckled, but he gave his boyfriend a peck on the cheek regardless. “Grab me th’tongs from th’kitchen?”

Ellis tromped inside to do as he was told, Riggs at his heels as the brunette held the sliding glass door open for him. 

[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls. I will be tagging them “event: labor day” if you’d like to keep track!]

Ellis was up and in Keith’s kitchen before ten, grinding lemon halves on a plastic juicer to the blare of Alice Cooper while Riggs sprawled out in the doorway. That afternoon he was not only hosting lunch for his own family, but for Keith’s mother and little brother, and the fridge was already brimming with side dishes partially prepped and snack foods for throughout the afternoon until a big meal at three. His culinary skills had been something of a slow buildup from December when he’d first been elected primary chef between Keith and himself, but he’d been mixing, cooking, and allowing his boyfriend to taste test for two days now, and everything was damn near perfect – or repeated until it had become so.

The smell of brewing coffee brought Keith out of bed before brunette had the chance to fetch him himself, the redhead pausing to press a sleepy kiss to El’s ear with a hand resting just above where Ellis had been tattooed a few nights before. “Ain’t school back in?” he asked with a groggy chuckle, referencing the song thundering on the radio.

“Not fer me it ain’t,” Ellis simpered, mashing harder, “An’ Ah ain’t lettin’ that lil’ snot next door fergit it.”

Keith moved to the coffee pot, fumbling sleepily for a mug from the cabinet, “The kid across th’street?”

“Shit yeah!” exclaimed the stocky mechanic with a wild, juice-splattering gesture of his hand clutching the lemon, “Asshole’s drivin’ uh PT Loser an’ had th’nerve tuh call mah truck uh clunker jus’ cus it smells like fruitcake still. Called me Father Christmas.” Ellis snorted, cramming the lemon down on the spike again, “Gonnuh teach’im uh lesson ‘bout screwin’ with his elders.”