Title: Plain, Tasteful, Tacky
Characters/Pairing: Yuri Leclerc/Ashe Ubert. Yuri’s mother, Ashe’s siblings.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, anything mentioned here by name isn't mine
Warnings: Mentioning parental illness
Notes: Modern AU. This is part of my “Ashe and Yuri are Fox and Xanatos” AU, but it’s just silly holiday fluff. You don’t have to read the other fic to read this. (Although I probably need to group them at some point.)

--

Ashe was a believer in hiding in plain sight. That was reflected in where he bought his house once his first paycheck from Leclerc Industries dropped in his bank account. He had bought an older four-bedroom home with a decent-sized yard in the nicest part of town. Thus, his neighbors would assume that as they watched him set up his unparalleled home security system that he was merely ‘protecting himself’ or whatever rich people told themselves as they fenced themselves away from the rest of the world because Heaven forbid you see a poor person on your commute. He had frowned as he had realized that he was going that as well, to an extent—yes, he had enemies that he needed to protect Sophia and Duran from. But he didn’t want his siblings to mimic what the neighborhood parents would say about how the poor side of town was an eyesore or how if someone didn’t like how the local government ran things, they should just leave. So, he still took them to their old shops and library—and was careful, because he had enemies beyond angry rich people he’d pickpocketed these days. Still, he confident in his ability to protect them.

His life wasn’t all morally grey decisions, however. A lot of his neighbors were nice. A friendly old lady and her wife would let the kids play with their dogs. If they weren’t in the Northwest to see their kids for Thanksgiving, Ashe would have invited them over.

Speaking of Thanksgiving… the turkey still had two hours left. He’d peeled the potatoes, but they still needed mashing. He would have by this point, but Reg always insisted that Ashe couldn’t risk hurting his hands—although he had no qualms with Ashe risking burns as he made the pies and the caramel cake for dessert yesterday. Oh, well. It would keep Reg from sneaking in tastes of those desserts. And he would be Reg for the day, not Yuri. That alone would make Reg backseat cooking later worth it.

“Ashe,” Sophia said for the umpteenth time, “when are Reg and Grandma getting here?”

“Soon,” Ashe also said for the umpteenth time, putting some dishes in the sink to soak. “Text them and find out.”

“I did, but Reg just keeps saying that they’ll be ‘fashionably late because he’s making himself beautiful.’”

“Oh course he did,” Ashe grumbled. He leaned against the sink counter. “What did you say back?”

“That I don’t care! He can be super ugly and I’ll still love him and his pumpkin bread. Then I told him that he owns nothing but vampire clothes anyways, so it shouldn’t take too long to coordinate an outfit.”

“Smart girl. Did Reg reply?”

“Yep, he sent me three skull emojis.” She held out her phone for proof. “See?”

Oh, Reg… “Thanks for trying to keep him in check, Sophia.” After toweling off his hands, he strode over so he could tousle her hair. “Why don’t you play some Pokemon with Duran?”

Sophia wrinkled her nose. “He’s too competitive.” Still, she left in search of her Switch.

The turkey had an hour left when Ashe heard Reg’s car park in the garage—and his siblings screaming that Grandma was here.

“Yeah, okay, shower Grandma with praise and hugs, while this unloved yet beautiful waif had to lug in all the food on his own,” Reg said breezily as he carefully stepped into the den. He carried two pumpkin loaves, his mother’s famous macaroni and cheese casserole, dinner rolls to last them for a month, and some cupcakes in his arms. “I know I feel loved this holiday.”

“Oh, shush.” Ashe hugged Mom, kissed Reg’s cheek, then took the cupcakes and the rolls. The kids helped Mom with her coat. “I think we’re officially good on dessert. Hey, Mom? Feel free to help yourself to the Chex Mix. It’s not just for the kids; it’s for everyone.”

“Way ahead of you, Ashe,” Mom said as she plopped in ‘her’ armchair, flanked by Sophia and Duran as the three of them dug in. She shooed Reg away when he tried to get a handful. “You are just avoiding helping in the kitchen, Regulus. Get in there and help your boyfriend who’s way too good for you.”

“Sheesh, and now my own mother turns against me,” Reg groused. “Maybe I’ll just run away from home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mom said, remote already in her free hand as she turned on the parade for the kids. “Maybe we’ll actually have some desserts left over this year.”

Ashe had to laugh. “Mom is one of a kind.”

“Thank God,” although Reg smiled as he spoke. Ashe smiled back, taking advantage of the quiet moment to take Reg and Mom in. As Sophia had predicted, Reg’s outfit was pure vampire chic—a blood red turtleneck that contrasted pleasingly with his midnight black jeans, matching jacket, and wedge heeled boots that made him look taller than he was. He was off the clock, so his hair framed his face delicately with a ponytail that cascaded over his right shoulder. His makeup was always good, but today his expertly placed liner, shadow, and gloss would make influencers weep. No wonder they were late.

Mom loved to point out that she was too old to give a damn about appearances, probably because it made the kids laugh and Reg pout. She had opted for a plain pink blouse with beige pants. Her clothes were simple, but her short purple/white curls framed her face perfectly. (Reg had to get it from someone.)

“C’mon, Reg.” Ashe’s hands were full, so he nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “We have work to do.”

“Right, right, let’s get mashing.”

--

When they were alone, Ashe finally had to ask Reg, “How’s Mom holding up?”

“Better, I think.” Reg kept his gaze fixed on the half-mashed potato mess before him. “Dr. Casagranda says she just needs to take her meds and not do anything strenuous.” He frowned as he continued mashing. “Of course, she and Mom get along so well I wouldn’t be surprised Mom convinced her to sugarcoat things a bit—”

“Hey.” Ashe placed a hand on Reg’s back. “You know Dr. Casagranda is a professional. You wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t. The only things that are sugarcoated here are our desserts.”

“Maybe.” Reg gave the potatoes one lash, brutal mash. “Ugh. All I’ve done is complain and cry about my mommy for Thanksgiving. Why do you love me again?”

Ashe took Reg’s hands. “First, anyone would love you after sampling your mashed potatoes. Second,” and now he pulled his lover to him, resting Reg’s brow against his own. “You have every reason to hate the world. You’ve done things I know haunt you, even when you had no choice. But you keep getting back up and helping others—helping your mother, my siblings, me. Why would I not love you?”

He was about to apologize for not being eloquent when Reg sniffled. “You’re a monster, you know that?” Reg said around a laugh/sob. “Not only am I going to ruin my makeup, I’m going to get salt in the potatoes.”

“Enh. They could use some salt.”

Reg pulled away. His were were red (and the mascara was a little blotty), but he wasn’t crying anymore. “I thought you said my mashed potatoes were so good anyone would love me after eating them.”

Ashe winked.

Reg scowled. “I hate that you’re one of the four people that can get under my skin—and that you’re the best at it.”

“I love you, too,” Ashe said as he kissed Reg’s cheek. “You freshen up. The kids and I will set the table.”

--

As an agnostic/borderline atheist, Ashe had been respectful but felt weird when Mom first said grace that night Reg brought him over to meet her. Now? It felt weird if she didn’t say it—he wasn’t exactly a believer, but she and Reg were, and he could see them both relax after that brief connection to their shared faith. After that, he was sneaking in bites of dinner while passing food, bringing in plates, and making sure the kids were okay. He didn’t mind—not when he could watch his family as he worked. Sophia was happily gobbling down her third helping of potatoes and turkey while chatting with Mom about school. Reg and Duran were having a spirited discussion concerning which generation of Pokemon was the best—Duran was a quiet lad, except when it came to his beloved Hoenn. It seemed Duran had the upper hand as Ashe eventually moved onto cleaning duties.

It was a lot of work, but he loved doing this.

--

“Ugh, I hate this,” Ashe said as he faceplanted on the old couch. “Next year, we’re going to a restaurant.”

“Which you will immediately recant once you nap the grumpies away,” Reg reminded him, perching elegantly on the couch’s left arm.

“Hrn.” Reg was right, but Ashe didn’t want to admit it. “Just give me a couple of hours.” So of course, one of the kids had a question. Duran wanted to do something to the tree. Ashe told Duran he could whatever he wanted. Duran thanked his brother as he dashed off to Sophia and Mom.

Reg sounded oddly concerned as he asked Ashe if he was really cool with Duran tackling the tree. He then mentioned something about Ashe and a tasteful Christmas this year, but Ashe waved him off. All he wanted for the next two hours was a silent night. Whatever Duran wanted was fine.

--

“No, it’s not fine at all!” Ashe breathed as he bolted upright from his nap and sprinted to the living room. Duran adored garish decorations—not just one or two kitsch pieces. No, he liked neon orange garland and mauve tinsel. Those things had been cheap, so that was how their tree always looked. This year, Ashe had indulged for once and bought what he’d needed for a tree like the ones he had loved on TV as a child (when they had one). But now?

… It was an eyesore like always, he realized. But dour Duran was grinning from ear to ear. Sophia was hanging up the one-winged Charizard they’d had for the tree before their parents died. Mom was resting with a cup of cocoa in hand.

And Reg pulled Ashe to his side. “If you eyes hurt too much from looking at that until January, I can get you a good doctor” he promised in a whisper, kissing Ashe’s hair. “And hey, seriously. If you want the tasteful tree that much, you can always help decorate the tree Mom and I are putting up tomorrow.”

“No. I mean, I will help, but all this? This is perfect.”