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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"What do you want?" Jag asked honestly. If it was up to him, they'd just fuck off already, but this was Val's family.

"I... I love my dad, I do. I just- I don't want him to make a bad impression on you. He'll be grumpy, he hates parties, and- Well. The first thing he's going to ask when you tell him what you do for a living is ask what you plan to do with your future. He'll ask about job security, about retirement. ...He can't help it, he's just like that. He can't stand when people don't have a plan. Especially when those people are involved with me. ...He worries. About me being taken advantage of, about my future, and he doesn't always come off as caring when he's concerned, even when caring is his motivation."

"I hate to break it to you, but I already think he's an arsehole," Jag stated with a wince. Val probably didn't want to hear it, but it wasn't as if Jag had ever hidden his opinion of what Val had told him about his dad. "I mean, the bad impression's already made. If you want me to meet him, though, I will, and I'll - behave," he settled on, since that was the idea, no matter how much he disliked it. "Or if you want to go and have a quick word without me around, that's fine, too."

Val actually looked offended for a moment, and started to speak before changing his mind.

"No, it's fine. ...Let's just go," he said, turning to lead the way back out.

"Hey," Jag called him, catching his hand before he could step back inside. There were so many things he could've said, but he settled for the easiest, safest one. "Are you sure?"

Val shrugged, letting the touch linger only a moment before pulling his hand away.

"Yeah. I don't fancy being on the road too late anyway," he said quietly, his posture making it clear one of his moods were coming on. The sort where he became quiet and melancholy.

Jag could have kicked himself for making Val react like that, and he had no idea what to do about it. It wasn't as if he would take any of it back, since he didn't want to lie to him. So he nodded at Val, and followed him out of the room, glancing one last time at it, and the balcony, before closing the door behind them.

The car ride back to London was slow and quiet. Almost uncomfortably quiet. He knew his father could be a wanker, but he was still his father, and hearing Jag speak ill of him when he didn't even know him- That made him angry, and anger made Val uncomfortable. It was something he knew he needed to keep in check least the wolf take over.

By the time they arrived at his home in the city, he was simply tired. Emotionally exhausted and honestly a bit miserable.

"You want tea?" he asked. It was the first thing he'd said in ages.

Jag's emotional journey as they drove back to London had been the opposite. He'd started out miserable - miserable to have clearly hurt Val, and to have cut everything short. But as his efforts to smooth things over between them had mostly been met by monosyllabic answers, he'd ended up shutting up as well fairly quickly. And, locked with nothing but his own thoughts and emotions, he'd progressively grown angry with Val, because being mad at him for speaking his mind was clearly out there, and he'd spent all bloody evening doing his best in an environment that made him feel like shit, Val would be gone in very little time, and enough was enough.

"Are you mad that I already don't like him, or are you mad that I've told you?" he failed to answer Val's question with a scowl. Who cared about the bloody tea. "I thought it was fairly obvious." He'd never hidden his reactions to things Val had said about his father.

Val was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "I'm not mad, I'm tired. ...But honestly, Jag? How can you dislike someone you've never met?" he asked. "I'll be the first to admit, he's not up for father of the year, but he's not a bad man. He's just- Old fashioned and stubborn. ...He's still my father though. He's part of the reason I am who I am."

"My bio parents are part of the reason I am who I am, and they're fucking arseholes," Jag pointed out hotly, then took a breath. "Sorry. I don't - I don't know that he is one." He hadn't actually abandoned Val, he'd just wanted to. ...maybe this entire story had struck a little close to home. "All I meant was, my first impression was already shit. You can't expect me not to have a first impression, from everything you've said."

Val sighed, then shrugged. "I suppose not, I just don't- I don't want you to hate my family, alright? They're always going to be a part of my life. It's the same reason I wanted you to warm to my lifestyle a bit. It's not just part of who I am now, it's my future. One day, hopefully not anytime soon, that estate is going to be mine. The Collingwood legacy is something I'm going to inherit. My family, my wealth, it's not going anywhere."

"Yeah, well unless you decide to turn into your bloody father along the way, how I feel about him isn't going to be a problem, is it!" The easy way Val had to project himself this far into the future was beginning to scare the shit out of Jag, and so of course, he only reacted with another spike of anger.

"It is if we're going to have a future together," Val replied calmly, not rising to Jag's level of anger. "And I don't know about you, but I think about the future a lot. I've had my wild years, I'm starting to think about settling down," he admitted quietly.

"What if I want to be wild, with you," Jag shot back, eyes shining hard, both with anger and impending tears. His lungs were laced with something cold, the opposite of the flames that warmed him so. "Just because you're thinking about the future don't mean you can't live in the now. Fuck, Val. I've spent all evening with you, in a place that makes me - you know. I say one thing, one thing, when it's just the two of us, and you shut down faster than a tom's legs when she finds out you've no money!"

"A charming comparison," Val replied. Though where Jag seemed angry, Val was more- Worn down. Worried even, in a way.

"Can I ask you something, Jag? Do you- Do you even like me as I am?" he asked softly. "That's not- I'm not upset or angry, I'm not trying to start a fight, but- Do you? Or do you just like the image of me, the costume I cling to. I run a museum for gods sake, man. I work late hours, I attend charity balls. Yes, when we first met, I was still a bit of a cad, but these days- I'm quite mellow when the wolf's not in control. If I turned up to our next date wearing a suit and tie, no make-up- Do you think you'd still be interested? Do you want me, Jag? Or- Or do you, maybe, wish I was the man I was before you knew me."

And he really wasn't trying to start a row, his words were gentle and his voice soft. After all, he knew what he looked like still. He looked like the man who'd run off to Mexico once and spent the entire trip high. He looked like the young man who'd bought a motorbike purely to shock his family. He looked like the aimless drifter he'd once been- But that wasn't who he was now. It was just a costume he couldn't seem to part with, an image he desperately clung to, even now as an adult.

"Yeah," Jag stated, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm with you for your eyeliner." Disgusted with the conversation, he fiddled with the bow tie until he managed to pull it off at last. It got thrown onto the nearest piece of furniture, and Jag spoke again as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, anger back in his tone. "I'm here in a fucking tuxedo, Val. Maybe I should be asking you if you like me for what I am, or what you're trying to turn me into. The minute I don't fit into that - perfect, mellow bloke you want, you question my feelings for you."

Edited 2015-12-23 23:23 (UTC)

"No," Val said softly. "I like you just as you are, fiery and wild, but- I do know what I want. I want to settle down, I want to focus on my business and mature, and you seem- I don't know. Not sure if that's for you, that's all. ...I am thankful you came tonight though, and I'm sorry the night ended on a sour note, alright?"

Jag just held his gaze for a beat, and then nodded. Then he glanced away, and spotted his leather jacket, which he'd left on an chair here. "I need a fag," he stated, and walked over to it to get his pack. He needed a fag, the small cherry that came with it, and to get out of this bloody monkey suit, but that last bit would wait.

Val sighed, watching him go, then shed his own suit jacket and tie before kicking off his shoes and heading for the kitchen. He suddenly wanted something stronger than tea, but he knew it was the week of the full moon, and it was best he try and take care of his body.

Putting the kettle on, he combed over everything he'd said tonight, regretting some, but still feeling good about being honest in terms of what he wanted. He was done being the wild child. he was ready to grow up.

Jag went out on the balcony and lit up the cigarette with a thought, wishing that he could find comfort in it. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing here, and it was growing increasingly apparent to him. Tears prickled at the back of his eyes, and he took a long, hard drag on the cigarette, leaning back against the window pane and trying to get a bloody grip. This wasn't where he belonged, but out there in a pub, drinking too much and starting a fight. He rubbed at his brow with the heel of the hand holding the cigarette.

That would just be running away again, though, wouldn't it. And he didn't bloody want to. He didn't understand why things had to be so hard, when he was trying, for once.

When he finished his cigarette, he put it out instinctively and headed back inside, finding a bin to throw it in. He found Val making tea and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him.

"I've never tried so hard, Val," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "If this isn't enough, I don't know what to give you."

Val looked over, his brow creasing slightly as he shook his head.

"No, no, that- That isn't what I meant," he insisted softly, making his way over to jag and touching his cheek. "I know that this, all of it- It's not what you're used to. I do understand that- At least... I try to, I promise. I just also know that this life isn't something I'll ever turn my back on, and I know that means... It means asking you to embrace it as your own. I worry you don't want to do that though. ...Which is fine, I would understand that, I really would. We can't have it both ways though, and it seems that we're both very attached to life as we know it."

"Of course I don't want to let go of my life," Jag answered with a frown, pain and confusion obvious in his eyes. "We've been dating for a couple of months." And honestly, he hoped he wouldn't ever want to let go, but that didn't mean shit. Compromises existed for a reason.

Val sighed, and it was clear that he was going to just keep saying the wrong thing no matter how hard he tried to clarify what he meant.

"Never mind," he said, pulling away. "You're right, it's only been a few months- and it feels like all we do is squabble. I say the wrong thing, you get hurt, and- I hate it. You must hate it as well. It's like we're both constantly saying the wrong thing and upsetting one another. ...Maybe we- Maybe while I'm gone, you should see other people," Val offered quietly. "Maybe we need a break. A real one this time. ...And that's not me throwing a fit or getting worked up, I just- It feels like we're really out of sync right now. Does that make sense? I'm not sure how else to say it."

For a moment, Jag couldn't feel a thing, didn't know how to react. "No," he finally managed, his voice even thicker than before. "No, it doesn't make any fucking sense, Val. Not unless you want rid of me, but then - just say it, yeah?" He sounded angry again by the end, because that was his fallback, especially when he hurt like this.

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