: Prompting Needed_

Handwritten Holiday

From Daily Quordle 335 (12/25/2022) GRIND, HOARD, AHEAD, WOOER

"My dearest Elanor." He bit down on the end of the pen and squinted at the three words that glared back up at him accusingly. The cursive was sloppy, like always. The letters sprawled across the lines on the page with the tell-tale sign of amateur artistry and he hated the splotchy, inky lines. Why had he thought that his father's fountain pen would be the best way to write a letter? He glanced to the bronze cup of Bic pens. Because, Norman, he thought, fountain pens are fancy. Elanor is fancy. She deserves fancy. He nodded, bolstered by his own pep talk.

He drew out another sheet of note paper from his pack and smoothed it across the leather padding of the desk. Once again, he steadied the tip of the thick pen against the paper and began to write. Immediately the ink flowed from the tip of the pen and bled through to the desk. "Shoot!" Norman jerked his hand up in an angry sweep. He watched as points of blackness splattered out towards the darkness of the office. He heard the ink hit the carpet. "Ugh, fine," he relented, and he sat the pen back on its wooden holder then picked out a Bic pen. He started anew with a fresh sheet of paper.

"My dearest Elanor," he whispered.

~~~

Kevin backed away from the door to his office and smiled. Tomas saw the smile and tilted his head inquisitively. "What is he doing in there?"

Kevin started down the steps, placing his feet so they caused the least amount of creaking. He motioned for his husband to follow. "If I were to guess, I think he's got a crush and I think," he added with emphasis and a wink back over his shoulder, "that he aspires to be a wooer."

Tomas stopped him, his hand on Kevin's shoulder. "A wooer?" he chuckled. "Who is he wooing? How?"

Kevin shrugged and continued down the steps. At the bottom, he paused as if to let Tomas go ahead of him and then grabbed him around the waist and laid his chin on his shoulder. "Well, evidently to a girl named Elanor and with my expensive pen. He's losing a couple of week's allowance to clean what I just saw him do." He kissed his husband's neck. "But it's sweet, I think. Our little guy's got a crush for Christmas."

Tomas pulled Kevin's arms in closer and fell back into the hug. "Yeah, but at that age, you can easily get heartbreak for New Year's." They broke the embrace and ambled into the kitchen. "Do you want a cup of coffee?" Kevin broke his attention from the snow falling outside to shake his head.

"No, but maybe a tea?"

"Sure." Tomas busied himself in the process as Kevin returned his gaze out into the black and orange night. The streetlamps were catching every flake on their way down. "What do you mean," he asked, his breath fogging up the pane of glass momentarily. "Heartbreak for New Years?"

In the reflection, he could vaguely see Tomas's shape. He paused before he began to grind the beans for his drink, and stared more through the back of Kevin's head than at it. "Well," he started as he returned to filling the grinder. He placed the cap on and let it whirr before he responded: "I used to collect sad stories when I was a kid. True ones. Like, the extra teenage drama that would happen all around me. I would hoard them, really. In my journal."

Kevin turned to watch him put the bean powder in the press and Kevin's bag of English breakfast (his favorite) in his big Santa mug. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the window, savoring the coolness as it soaked into his housecoat for a moment. "Oh yeah?" he said. This was a new fact. "How long'd you do that for?"

"A couple of years," he said. His casual shrug unseated a strand of his dark hair, and it swung lightly like a feathery pendulum over the drinks. He absently pushed it back and glanced up at Kevin. "What?" he laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Kevin let his face grow even wider. "Me? Smile at you? Whatever would I do that for?" Tomas shook his head, his own mouth turning up at the edges as his cheeks started to glow. "What, I can't just smile at my husband?"

One eye looked back up at him through hair that had fallen once more. "A grin like that caused the us to decide to get married and have a kid, Mr. Vance."

"Oh, really?" He rolled his back off the window and walked around the island to slip his hands around Tomas's waist again. He playfully slapped at Kevin's advancing limbs and indicated at his amateur barista work on the countertop. "What," Kevin laughed. He heard his voice as it lowered into a warm whisper. "I'm just admiring-"

"You are trouble," Tomas chided. His voice, in contrast, had gone up in a playful tone. He turned and placed a splayed hand on Kevin's terry-clothed chest and glared up at him with dark, fetching eyes. "And you're not getting the chance to unwrap this present yet." He pointed to the press and Kevin's mug which was now steaming from the water Tomas had poured in. "Drinks first and Norman's got to go to bed."

"Fair enough. How long on the tea?"

"I don't know, ten minutes?"

Kevin nodded then stepped towards the stairs again. "Norm, buddy. You up there?"

There was a pregnant pause and the faint rustling of items from his cracked open office door. Then, in a voice that was thick with the inflection of a preteen trying to sound nonchalant, Norman yelled back, "One minute!" Muted thumping broadcasted the kid's scampering to his own room and then turned into slapping footsteps as he clunked down the stairs. "Yeah, Dad?"

Kevin tried very hard to not notice the ink stains on his son's fingers or face. "Bed in, what, fifteen?" He glanced back at Tomas and winked.

He looked past him at Norman and smiled. "Make sure to brush your teeth."

"Yes, sir," Norman said, and he bounded back up the stairs.

Tomas watched him go and then slid the Santa mug over to Kevin so that it's warm edge just brushed his fingertips. "That boy's gonna have heartbreak, alright." He sighed and leaned into Kevin's back as he squeezed his body just below the ribs. "Whether it's gonna be his or 'Elanor's', we'll see."