Warnings: Slash (Sharrett), Fluff, Ye Olde times.

The McMahon Manor is large. Not huge by the standards of the royal buildings, but for new money, it's more than respectable. The Family made their money as merchants, buying and selling items from all over the world. Sugar, spices, and if the rumours are to be believed, people. Wade's never really put too much thought into how the Family got their money. He doesn't much care so long as he's paid his wages at the end of the week. He'd started his employment by the Family as a young boy, as an assistant to his father. Over the years he's worked his way up to head of the hunt. It's a fine title. One he's earned through many years of hard work, and loyal service. He's been here long enough to have seen almost everything, good and bad, and all the others in between.

Christmas is always a grand affair. The Family insist on having large feasts serving as much as they can to their decadent guests. It's a busy time for all of the staff. From the farms to the kitchens to Wade's small team of hunters. Everyone is working hard to provide for their employers, and the promise of their own small feast.

Currently, Wade is dropping off a brace of pheasants to the kitchens. A single brace isn't going to be anywhere near enough, but he has an ulterior motive for being where he is.

"And I imagine that you'll be wanting more of these?" Wade rests his hip against the low wall near the servant's entrance. The young scullery maid opposite him barks a laugh.

"Aye! You know how the Family eats at this time of year." The scullery maid, Becky, laughs again. A gleeful grin spreading over her lips. "They're like a sinkhole when it comes to food. I don't know how the ladies stay so thin when all they do is wander around the ballroom all winter."

"I'm sure the never-ending parade of handsome young things is how Lady Stephanie stays so trim." Wade's ulterior motive appears from nowhere, and slaps Wade on the shoulder.

"I could say the same thing of Master Shane." Becky laughs once more, and slings the brace of pheasants Wade had handed her over her shoulder. "I'll need another dozen at least, if you can my good man."

"Oi! That's my good man" Sheamus snaps at his little sister, at least until Wade cuffs him around the ear. You can never be too sure who's listening in the manor. Sheamus is not a man who knows shame. He's as subtle about his relationship with Wade as a tom cat. But Wade should be more careful. His position means he must deal with the Family more than most, and that means his position is more precarious.

"Honestly, Shea. Keep your voice down." Becky's eyes dart around, then return to her brother. "I heard that Master Hunter invited some parson from the new world to the feast this year. He's supposed to be one of those hellfire preachers, so you'll get an earful if he's around." Sheamus snorts dismissively, and ruffles his sister's hair.

"If I was afraid of hell fires I would have stayed in Ireland, Becks." Sheamus laughs. "When's this parson supposed to be coming?"

"Today. I've not heard any more than that. Lexi's been too busy to pop down to-"

"Gossip." Wade cuts in. "No matter how you were going to dress that up, you and Alexia will be gossiping." Sheamus laughs as Becky pouts at Wade and her brother.

"Off with you, you pair." She huffs, and heads back into the bustling kitchens of the manor house.

"I hope you kept one of those for us, love." Sheamus' hand briefly brushes over Wade's arm. Thankfully Sheamus can be subtle on occasion. It always throws Wade slightly that he and his lover have to be so standoffish with each other in public, but those are the rules of society. Men lust for women, not other men. Which means men like he and Sheamus have to keep their relationship quiet. Of course, if either of them had money, things would be different. Master Shane's proclivities raise eyebrows, but his father's money means that it's only eyebrows and not lynch mobs that are raised.

The comings and goings of the big house aren't something Wade overly concerns himself with though. His work keeps him out in the grounds, hunting, tracking, laying traps. He enjoys the peace of the moors, and the thrill of lying in wait for a doe to come by that he may lodge an arrow in her. Nothing but him and his preferred hound out amongst nature. The pheasants are thankfully plentiful enough, and by the end of the day, he has another full brace to bring the kitchen. This time it's not Becky to takes the birds from him, but some other lass he doesn't recognise. She blushes fiercely at him as her dainty fingers brush his in taking the brace. He offers her a slight smile that sends her swooning back into the kitchens with a soft giggle.

"You'll make your man jealous." The thick accent of the visiting Russian countess's footman has Wade turning to him with a smirk. Rusev returns it with abundant amusement. "If he hears of you flirting with pretty kitchen wenches, you'll be sleeping with your hounds for a week." Rusev laughs, and slaps Wade on the shoulder.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Wade chuckles, and lightly punches Rusev's shoulder. "You're out in the cold for what reason?"

"My lady wanted to take a walk. I'm waiting for her and the entourage that'll be following her." Rusev sounds petulantly annoyed. His gaze casting about the servants' gardens.

"They'll not be coming this way though." Wade smiles at the sullen Rusev. "The folks from the house don't even know this place exists, I'm sure." Rusev barks a laugh.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. The latest talk in the house is of how the newly arrived pastor wishes for everyone to be closer to god by doing lowly works, as he put it." Rusev laughs again, and pulls from inside his coats a small flask. "You want some? It's very good." He takes a swig, and offers the flask towards Wade.

"This Russian stuff?" Wade takes the flask, and has a sniff. The liquid inside smells nothing like any alcohol he's ever smelt before. Strangely floral, but not in the way that gin is, something utterly foreign.

"Hmm. Vodka. Good for the cold." Rusev nods. Wade takes a swig, treating it like any other alcohol, and almost instantly regrets it. The liquid has no real taste, but it burns a path all the way down his throat. He holds the flask out to Rusev, and buries his face against his wrist trying to stifle his coughs. "You're first time?" Rusev laughs, and presses the flask back to Wade. "Keep it. I have plenty more. Vodka is good at warming the heart. It's like drinking the flames of passion." Rusev laughs once more.

"Flames is a good way to describe it." Wade mutters slipping the flask into his inner pocket. "What was that about this pastor?"

"Ah! The good pastor from the new world… Styles I think the name is. He seems like a brash fool." Rusev pulls another flask from his coat, and takes a long drink. "He commandeered the captain that took him across the sea, told him that he'd get paid only once he made it to where he was supposed to be." Rusev takes another drink, then slips the flask back into his coat.

"Commandeered?" Wade raises his eyebrow at that. "What sort of captain gets bullied by his passengers?"

"One that's entirely too nice." The voice that comes from behind Wade is unfamiliar in so many ways. The accent, the jovial tone, the everything. "Colt." The man extends his hand, shakes Wade's briefly, then stuffs it back into his pocket. "This country is the worst." It's hard to be offended by a statement that's given in such a friendly tone, but Wade does bristle slightly at the comment. "It's pretty, but this is the most miserable weather ever."

"You're the one who took this Parson Styles here, then?" Wade asks the man, watching him stamp his feet, and almost shiver in the cold.

"I am, and I apologise for it." He laughs. "I've never had to deal with a more asinine passenger in all my days as a captain." Rusev laughs at that, and Colt grins at him. "I've been sailing since before I was born, and yet Pastor Styles made sure we had good winds, not by my skill, oh no! But by his god. You'd get more sense from a cow's ass than his mouth."

"You're captain of a passenger ship then?" Wade means the question innocently, but the colouring of Colt's cheeks suddenly has him doubting the above-board nature of this captain.

"I'm more of a merchant, shall we say." Colt smiles cheerfully, and adjusts the way one of his many scarves are lying. "I'm not used to this weather."

"No, I can see that." Wade chuckles, and pulls Rusev's flask from his coat. "Here, have some Russian firewater. It'll warm you up."

"No. I don't drink." Colt smiles brightly once more, and tugs another scarf into a better position.

"A pirate that doesn't drink?" Rusev laughs, and Colt turns crimson.

"I'm not a pirate. I am a legitimate merchant, who sells legitimate things to legitimate people." Colt's eyes dart around, and Wade chuckles at him.

"See, he's not a pirate, Rusev. He's a smuggler." Wade laughs, and Colt rolls his eyes.

"It depends on what you classify as smuggling, to be honest." Colt looks around the gardens carefully, as though hunting for someone or something. "I ship freed slaves to safer places." Rusev pales slightly, and gently touches Colt's shoulder. His hand vanishes into his pocket, and he pulls out a handkerchief. He opens it, and offers it to Colt. Inside the dainty fabric bundle is candied ginger. Colt takes a couple of pieces, and puts one in his pocket the other in his mouth. "For my boy."

"You've lost your son?" Wade decides that changing the subject is probably for the best. Slaves, and their freedom is a touchy subject, especially so close to the big house, so it's better to move on to less awkward topics.

"Not exactly on both counts. He's neither lost, nor really my son." Colt shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips.

"Oi! Da!" A loud cry comes over the courtyard, and Wade spots Sheamus being followed by a short young man, who seems to be talking far quicker than Sheamus can listen.

"This is yours, Captain." Sheamus gently nudges the young man forward. He looks maybe all of fourteen, with big brown eyes, and a huge grin. He might not be Colt's son but he could certainly pass for it. The boy starts on about the animals Sheamus oversees. A long rambling rant about pigs ensues for some reason. Colt awkwardly smiles to the others, and ushers the boy off. Wade looks over at Sheamus with a raised eyebrow, and the big Irish man laughs awkwardly, and rubs the back of his neck. "I found him talking to the barn lad. The two of them were caught up in some nonsense about pirates or some such. I don't need TJ distracted from his work more than usual so I took him to find his pa."

"Well done." Wade pats Sheamus on the arm, and pulls the flask from his pocket. "Here try this." Sheamus takes a gulp of the vodka, and unlike Wade suffers no horrible coughing fit.

"I've already let him try the vodka." Rusev chuckles, and sighs. "I should go to the front. The pastor may want them playing in the mud, but my lady is not one for being so messy." Rusev leaves them with a slight bow of his head.

"You finished for the day, love?" Sheamus steps half an inch closer to Wade, a small distance that makes all the difference. This close Wade is better able to sense the presence of his lover.

"I am. I'm going to head home, then pluck our Christmas dinner. I'll get tonight's on too." Wade offers Sheamus a broad grin.

Sheamus returns to their little home with more gossip from the big house. It seems that the pastor's brought far more people with him than the Family had been expecting. Instead of it being just him, he's brought two other clergymen (possibly monks as they call each other brother), the captain and his boy, and the pastor's assistant. The other snippet of gossip Sheamus brought home was that the assistant had caught the eye of Master Shane. Apparently Master Shane had been spotted cornering the young man in the library, talking to him in the manner that is always the sign that Shane is moving in on a conquest. With the fresh gossip from the house exhausted over dinner, as they straighten the house, and prepared for bed, the topic of conversation was normal everyday gripes, and tomorrow. It's the first Christmas they've spent together as a couple, and whilst Wade doesn't want to make a fuss, it feels special. He's been saving a fair portion of his wage for weeks to buy Sheamus a present. Not because he wants one in return, but because he wants to be able to give his lover something special, something to remind him of Wade's love for him.

Christmas morning starts with a service in the Family's chapel. Pastor Styles gives the sermon, and for all it's being overly long, it's not a bad little sermon. He's not the firebrand Wade had been told he is. If anything, he seems mild, and quite calm. That's probably attributable to someone from the big house though. If Wade knows anything about the Family and the staff at the big house, it's that they can suck the fire from anyone.

"I'm gonna have to check the traps, but if you want to start with dinner." Wade's walking a little too close to Sheamus as they file out of the chapel, but thankfully no one seems to notice or care. Sheamus briefly brushes his fingers against Wade's, and offers him a sly smile.

"Do me a favour?" Sheamus brushes Wade's fingers again, his sly smile broadening. "Check in on my stock, and I'll do dinner."

"Deal." Wade turns away from him, and heads to where his preferred hound is housed. He's got traps to check, and now livestock to give some hay to.

The first stop Wade makes is to the barn. The herd of cows are all in there hiding from the cold. In theory, Sheamus' help, TJ, should have taken care of them, but as soon as Wade's close enough he can see the young man chasing after someone. Based on the number of scarves the other young man's wearing, Wade supposes that TJ is playing with Colt's son.

"Wade! Catch him!" TJ calls as the captain's son bolts towards Wade. Habit has him catching the young man by the scruff of his neck. The captain's boy scowls at him for a moment, then squirms free before a cackling TJ can throw the snowball in his hand at him.

"Mister, you might wanna move." The captain's boy laughs as he stoops to make a snowball of his own. It seems that Wade has walked into a warzone. He scuttles away from the boys, and ducks into the barn. Most of the water troughs are full, although the hay mangers are a little empty. He can hear the two boys still playing outside, and strangely when mixed with the sounds of the cows it brings back vague memories of when he'd be helping his grandfather on his farm as a child. His sisters would be out playing, and as the oldest, Wade would be working. TJ's only sixteen, and by the look of him the captain's son is even younger, so he can't resent them getting to be children a little longer.

His traps are thankfully once more full. He's relieved that all the game left out and about is as apparently sick of the cold as he is. He can think of no other reason for them all to be so happy to come to their death at his hands. On his way back down to the manor house, Wade stops in at the pigs and chickens. Thankfully both seem to have been fed, so he drops his game off at the kitchens, and makes his way back home.

There's already a fire in the hearth when Wade makes it inside. Sheamus is turned towards the fire, turning the spit with the pheasant Wade had kept back for them. The scent of roasting meat filling the little hut, and there's even some simple Christmas decorations here and there. It seems as though Sheamus has gone all out on making their first Christmas a nice as possible.

"You better not be tracking snow all over the place." Sheamus calls out. Wade doesn't bother fighting the fond smile that spreads over his lips. He's always a little charmed by Sheamus' being so very house proud. Their little home may be small, and it may not be much, but it's well cared for, and well loved.

"I banged my boots before I even thought to come in." Wade starts to remove his outer layers, thankful that the thick woollen garments aren't too wet. They should dry off easily by the fire. "How's the bird?"

"She's coming along nicely. Did you get the last of the stuff for the big house?" Sheamus turns to look at him. There's a smile on Sheamus' face, a smile Wade is certain is only shown to him. He nods, and comes closer to the fire, his damp coat draped over his arm.

"You want me to take over?" Sheamus nods, and frees up the spot on the stool by the spit. He takes Wade's coat for him, and drapes it over the drying rack.

"I've got some soup on the go too... I think Becky might be popping in tomorrow so mind and leave enough for her." Wade nods along to Sheamus' words, half paying attention to them, half listening to his lover talk. "Did you get a chance to look in at barns? I'm sure the boy down there'll be slacking. He's always lazy in the cold."

"He's from warmer climes, you can't blame the boy." Wade mutters, his gaze caught by the flames.

"I know, but still this is at least his second winter. You'd think he'd adjust to it by now." Sheamus gripes, and drapes himself over Wade's back. "I'm being a grouchy old man, aren't I, love?" Wade nods again, a smile spreading over his face when Sheamus presses a kiss to his temple.

"A mite, love, a mite." Wade decides he'll not mention the fact that young TJ had been shirking his duties in favour of playing in the snow with Captain Colt's son. It seemed harmless, and Wade had no trouble making sure the cattle had plenty of hay and water.

"I suppose… That should be cooked by now. Everything else is nearly ready." Sheamus gestures towards the bird, and then towards the board on the table. Wade slides the bird from the spit onto the board to let it rest. Sheamus finishes up the rest of the food, and Wade's carves the bird.

"You want to say grace?" Wade asks once the last dish has been set on the table. Sheamus rolls his eyes, and sits down opposite Wade.

"Grace. That good enough for you?" Sheamus laughs. Wade chuckles softly, and serves some of the pheasant over to Sheamus.

"Better than I was expecting to be honest." Wade starts eating. Sheamus smiles at him fondly. A light chatter starts up between them, nothing of importance being discussed, just a soft burble of noise between the two of them. Once the main meal is cleared away, Sheamus sets a pudding on the table. He pours some alcohol over the top, and sets it aflame.

"It's a wee one I got Becky to make just for us." He smiles fondly at Wade, and fetches two more plates and a knife.

"You get some custard for this pud?" Wade chuckles as Sheamus serves him half the pudding. Once Sheamus has set his own half down, he heads back over to the fire.

"Here." He sets a gravy boat of custard down on the table with a flourish and a grin. "Merry Christmas love." Sheamus reaches over the table to catch one of Wade's hands. "I… I'm not good at this." He trails off, and starts eating his pudding.

"Before I eat this, I'm gonna go get your present." Wade pushes away from the table, and stands on the chair to fetch Sheamus' present from the rafters.

"It'll smell of smoke up there." Sheamus laughs, watching Wade perching on the chair. He tosses Sheamus his gift. The Irish man looks at it thoughtfully. "Oily rags? Just what I wanted." Sheamus laughs, and unwinds the rags from around what is his gift.

"You're always complaining that you don't know the time. That one's set by Greenwich. I checked to make sure." Wade smiles softly as Sheamus twists the pocket watch around. "If you don't like it, or if it's not practical enough I'm sure that-"

"Shh." Sheamus waves his hand at Wade, still seemingly engrossed by the watch. He pops the cover, and suddenly looks up at Wade. A very soft smile graces his face, and Wade feels his heart speed up a little. "That's the day we met, isn't it?" Sheamus is referring to the date that's engraved on the inside of the watch's lid. Wade nods, and covers his pudding in custard.

"It is. I thought it'd be a nice touch, but like I was saying if it's too fancy I've kept the receipt so we can change it for a sturdier one, though I did-"

"You're not getting rid of my watch. It's perfect." Sheamus is already attaching the timepiece of his waistcoat. "It's beautifully practical, just like you, love." Wade's suddenly very glad that there's not better lighting in their home. At least with only the fire and candles, he can blame them for the ruddy hue he's certain is gracing his cheeks. "Now eat your pudding." Wade takes a big spoonful of pudding almost on Sheamus' command. It's been a long time since he's had custard, and a year since his last Christmas pudding. He starts to chew, and bites down on something far too solid to be part of the pudding.

"Did Becky put a sixpence in here and not tell you?" Fishing what he supposes is a sixpence out of his mouth isn't elegant, but it is necessary, and Sheamus has seen him in far less elegant positions on several occasions.

"That's no sixpence, love." Sheamus smiles slightly, and offers Wade a cup of water. "Here, rinse it off." Wade drops the piece of pudding coated metal into the water. The water clears the pudding from it quickly. "Here, lemme give it to you properly, love." In Sheamus' hand is a simple plain gold band. A wedding ring. A ring that's slightly too small for Wade's fingers. "I got it small on purpose before you say anything. There's no way we can actually be married, but I thought it'd be a nice gesture." Wade smile fondly, and pulls his own pocket watch out.

"There is a ship's captain around. I'm sure he'd marry us, love." Wade laughs fondly, and Sheamus leans over the table to snag the back of Wade's neck, drawing him into a kiss. "It's a lovely gesture, and I'm hoping after the last service, I get a more physical gift." Sheamus answers with nothing more than a filthy smile, and another kiss.

First up we have First Noel, as requested by Moiself.

Please give the Christmas gift of a review!

There's still some free slots in this calendar - so if you'd like to fire me a song and pairing combo, I'll have a listen and see what I can come up with.