hollow_moon | Jag - The Collingwood Christmas Party

Jag - The Collingwood Christmas Party

The party was always the same. Big dresses, men in fine tailored suits, rich food, bountiful drink... It was opulent and glitzy, and Val sort of loved it. Sometimes they rented ballrooms or hotels, but this year his mother had chosen the family home, wanting to show off the restorations she'd had done, and take advantage of the decent weather that allowed their guests to explore the large and beautiful gardens.

He'd gotten a few curious looks from certain relatives when he'd turned up with Jag on his arm, but most of his family hardly batted a lash- And many were open and friendly, making a point of coming over and saying hello.

His mother, however, had been fairly illusive, so busy flitting about that she'd barely had time to wave hello. It was only now, when Val was wondering if maybe it was time to start heading out, that she seemed to appear out of nowhere and came rushing over. Her hair was a perfect shade of silver, long and thick, but styled neatly into a loose bun. She was wearing a long and flowing evening gown, but her jewellery was simple, a necklace with a single Tahitian pearl, and a set of simple silver channel earrings.

"Oh, Valentine! Look at you," she smiled, cupping Val's face in her hands and smiling warmly. "You've cut your hair! It looks so smart. Still not sure about the eyeliner- Though I'm impressed you can get the waterline filled in so well," she chuckled, kissing his cheek and then taking a step back. "You didn't think you could escape without introducing me to your friend, did you?"

Val smiled, and almost blushed- Though he'd deny it if anyone suggested he had. "Date, actually. Mum, this is Jag, Jag this is my mother, Margaret Collingwood."

Margaret smiled brightly, offering her hand. "Lovely to meet you, Jag."

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Jag had ended up relenting, and letting Val find him something to wear. The truth was, he had no idea how to go about choosing a suit, and the goal here wasn't to embarrass Val. The silver chain he always wore around his neck was hidden under his shirt, and he'd only kept a couple of his silver rings on, and done his best to tame his hair and trim his scruff. He thought he looked like a kid in a fancy dress, wearing those kinds of clothes, but Val seemed to like it, and that was what mattered.

He didn't feel much more at ease throughout the party, not that most people were arseholes. No, most of them were surprisingly friendly, but he couldn't help but feel like they wouldn't have given him the time of day if they'd run into him on the street. Or, maybe, like they would have given him money out of pity, rather than because his number was that good. His issues had issues, at this stage, but he managed to stay civil with the nice ones, and jaw-clenched with the few wankers he normally would have made a point to provoke. Jaw-clenched was a step up on looking for a fight.

It was worth it, though, for every smile Val gave him. Jag might not understand the appeal of this sort of party, but Val was happy to be here, and that was fucking beautiful.

But it had been a long evening, and he'd made a point not to drink too much, and now here came Val's mother. He couldn't help but feel offended, on Val's behalf more than his own, that it had taken her so long to come and see her son. The way he saw it, that should've been her priority. But the Collingwoods clearly didn't function in any way that Jag understood, and he smiled back at her, his unease difficult to pick up on for someone who didn't know him.

"And you, ma'am," he answered, wondering if that was the right way to address her. He tended to call everyone by their first names, but he was so out of his depth in this environment, and calling her Margaret didn't feel right. It didn't help that his accent set him so clearly apart from the lot of them, no matter how he dressed. "It's a lovely party."

"Oh, please, it's just Margaret," she smiled, looking around and beaming. "Not to toot my own horn, but it is quite good this year."

She looked at Val then, her smile turning mischievous, and it was obvious in an instant which parent Val was most like. "Have you seen the ice sculptures in the garden yet? Your father was appalled," she chuckled.

Val laughed brightly, then shook his head. "Not yet, but I'm looking forward to it now."

She chuckled again, then turned her attention back to Jag. "I am sorry I'm only getting a chance to say hello now. The guest list is a bit long this year, and my sister caught me about halfway through my rounds and she's impossible to get away from when she gets started. ...I was just about to slip away to have a cup of tea and take these shoes off. Why don't you both come with me, hmm? I'd love to hear all about you Jag- And you can fill me in on what my son's been up to, since he never has time to call his dear, sweet mother..."

Val smiled a bit at that, but glanced at Jag, offering the man a chance to make an excuse to leave if he wasn't ready to get to know his mother that well.

Any excuse to leave the main party was fine by Jag, and she seemed genuinely friendly, or why would she offer to have a cuppa together? He wasn't sure about telling her 'all about him', but he would see. He caught Val's gaze, then looked back at her with a small nod. "That'd be great, cheers."

Although now he sort of wanted to see the ice sculptures, too.

"Lovely," Margret smiled, gesturing for them to follow her upstairs, pausing to ask one of the servers to bring up a tea tray.

She led them through a small sitting room, to the bedroom, then into a large closet that also served as a dressing room. It was as big as a high end boutique, with a few plush chairs and a table.

The instant she was inside, Margret removed her shoes and sat down.

"Valentine, be a love and fetch my silver flats?" she asked.

"Which ones? You have a million bloody shoes," Val replied, pulling a face.

"The pretty ones, obviously." she replied, before turning her attention to Jag. "Sit, Jag. Tell me what you do for a living," she smiled as Val rolled his eyes and started to look through the racks of shoes.

One of the questions he'd kept being asked tonight, and had grown to hate answering. Reactions ranging from polite surprise to undisguised contempt had greeted his answer, after all. Still, Jag stopped looking around the room to turn to her, hands in his pockets, and remaining standing for now. He instinctively wanted to wait for Val to be back before sitting down, for no real reason. "I'm a busker. Fire juggling."

If he had been out to provoke, he would have added that he picked rich people's pockets on a regular basis. But he was on his best behaviour, and he hadn't nicked anything tonight, and didn't intend to.

"Fire juggling? Oh, how exciting! Dangerous, but thrilling- Though I suppose it's not really dangerous if you know what you're doing, is it? Still looks it though," Margaret mused, smiling as Val returned with a pair of silver shoes.

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing a performer?" she asked. "We could have hired him. We could have hired you! You could have been juggling by the ice sculptures. That would have been fantastic."

Val laughed, flopping into one of the chairs. "But then I'd have had no date, and Jag wouldn't have gotten to enjoy your party."

Margret pulled her shoes on and waved Val off. "I wouldn't have asked him to juggle all night, just for a bit," she insisted. "How long have you been busking, Jag?" she asked.

Jag wouldn't have minded being hired help; honestly, he'd have felt a lot better on that side of the party. But then, like Val had said, he would've had no date. Better this way, he thought, and sat on a chair close to Val's.

Margaret seemed all right, though. Natural, and without some of the preconceptions he had seen hints of in some of her guests.

"Just a couple of years, recently," Jag answered, scratching idly at his jaw. "I was with a circus, before I came to London."

"Oh, how unusual," Margaret smiled. "You know, your great aunt Tilly travelled with the circus. She did a musical act. Wrote a book about it," she added.

"Was she the one with the beard?" Val quipped, prompting his mother to lean over and smack his knee.

"Wicked boy," she tutted. "And what have you been doing? Still running a museum, or have you gotten bored with that?" she asked, before looking over at Jag. "A restless soul, my Valentine. Drives his father mad. ...Have you said hello to him tonight?"

Val looked away, and shrugged. "Didn't see him."

Margaret didn't look as though she believed that, but didn't push too hard. "You should at least introduce him to your date for the evening, don't you think?"

"It's all right," Jag stated with a small smile, the sort that was slightly on the awkward side. "I'm sure he's got lots of guests to entertain."

No need to test his 'best behaviour' any more than it already had been.

"Yes, far too busy for us, I'm sure," Val agreed.

"Nonsense. I know you two butt heads over everything, but he loves you. I heard him just yesterday bragging to Ferris about how you're a natural businessman, and how you started that museum from scratch, all by yourself. He loves you- He's just... He's not good at showing it, that's all."

Val sighed, slumping lower in his seat. "If we see him, I will say hello. Alright?"

Margate smiled at that, then nodded. "You didn't RSVP to our New Years party," she noted. "Jag, you just have to come. It's a blast. ...Literally."

"I, er, I have plans with my flatmates," Jag answered, glancing at Val with surprise. He would have expected her to know that he would be out of the country in just a few days' time.

"Yes, and, um- I'm going to be abroad, actually. I was going to tell you..." Val said, trailing off.

The tea arrived right on time, and Val looked very relieved as he thanked the server and took the tray.

"Shall I pour everyone tea?" he offered.

"Please," Jag agreed, trying to hide how awkward he felt.

Val poured them each a cup, then sat again.

"You didn't say where you were going," Margaret prodded.

"I'm going to see someone about my condition," Val replied.

"Your condition," she tutted. "You speak of it like you're ill. You're not ill, you're... Special. Gifted."

She glanced at Jag then, wondering if the other man knew.

Jag didn't feel any better about being here for this conversation; this was a conversation between family, and he didn't have a place witnessing it, he felt.

He thought the truth was a little more complicated than what Val's mum made it sound like, in his case, but he liked her for having that outlook on things, for what it was worth. Still, he just met her gaze, showing no sign of confusion about what they were talking about, and kept quiet, letting them hash it out, for now.

"I want to learn to control the change," Val sighed.

Margaret considered that, then nodded. "I suppose I can understand that desire- Just be careful."

She looked to Jag again, then smiled softly. "How long has my son been hiding you from me then, Jag?" she asked, letting the subject go for now.

"Just a couple of months," Jag assured her, glad when they changed the subject - and more glad still that she simply accepted what Val wanted.

"We've only started dating though," Val added quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. She wouldn't be happy if she thought he'd been hiding a boyfriend for months.

"You're a step up from the last one," Margaret said with a nod of approval. "She was dreadful, Valerie, wasn't that her name? Dreadful woman. Always looked like she was going to cry. Tried telling me they were meant to be because they were both 'Val's'."

"Mum," Val tutted. "Don't be nasty, it doesn't suit you."

Margaret ignored him though, shaking her head. "She gave me the shivers. Do you know what I mean? Some people when you meet them, you just know they're the bad sort."

And now they were talking about Val's exes, or at least one of them. This was getting better and better. Jag sipped his tea, wishing it was stronger and resisting the urge to say anything. He could feel it building inside him, the urge to say something unwelcome, and he glanced at Val, hoping he'd understand and steer the conversation away from that topic.

Val offered an apologetic look, but honestly, his mother was prone to chat about whatever she felt like. She had a habit of talking to everyone as though they were her best friend- He was sort of glad she seemed so at ease with Jag- It meant she liked him.

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to hear about how much you disliked my ex girlfriend, mum," Val prodded gently.

"I'm just saying she gave me bad- What's that word? Vibes? She gave me bad vibes," Margaret replied stubbornly.

"Bad vibes?" Val laughed. "What have you been watching that you're saying things like that?"

Margaret shrugged one shoulder and finished her tea. "I was watching a woman clean a house of bad energy with sage on that Tube thing ...The You Tube. Hired her to do ours!" she added cheerfully. "I thought you'd like that. You love that sort of thing."

Val laughed, shaking his head. "Oh dear lord, I really do wish I'd seen Dad's face when you told him you were doing that."

"I'll have you know it was your father who suggested it," Margaret scolded. "He said we ought to call you and ask you to come, but I told him you were far too busy. ...It feels better in the house now though, don't you think? It feels clean," she smiled, before turning her attention to Jag again. "You should film your juggling for You Tube. Good money in that sort of thing you know," she said, putting her cup down and looking at her shoes with a sigh. "I, on the other hand, have a party I ought to get back to."

"'Course," Jag agreed, not wanting to hold her back - and looking forward to being alone with Val.

"Say hello to your father before you go," his mother reminded him. "And Jag, it was lovely meeting you. Hopefully I'll see you again soon."

Val got to his feet, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, then offered his hand to Jag.

"Should we go see the ice sculptures?" he offered.

Jag had been hoping they could steal a few quiet moments here, away from the party, but he sailed right past that disappointment to take Val's hand and get to his feet. "It was nice meeting you," Jag told his mother with a small smile.

Val smiled brightly, leading the way out the room- But rather than head back down, he took Jag to what had been his childhood bedroom- But now served as a craft room of sorts that his mother had taken over. What remained, however, was a balcony that looked out over the garden.

"This used to be my room when I was a boy," he said. "I came out here often."

Jag looked around the room as they walked through it, for any hint of what it had once been, but happily followed Val onto the balcony. If asked, the cold would be his excuse for stepping up against Val's back, winding his arms around his stomach. "Quite a view," he stated, resting his chin on Val's shoulder. He was already relaxing from just being the two of them.

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