Chapter Text
In a perfect world, the question “do you have Thanksgiving Day plans” would’ve been an easily-dismissed “ oh, we’ll be with our families ” or “ we just want a quiet day at home ”.
As it was, meeting Belinda’s enthusiastic stare with a stutter of disbelief, Dan stumbled. He hadn’t been prepared, today, in particular, to meet the question of anything normal with a socially-acceptable response. One hand moved up over his ear, instinctively finding something to tug on, before he huffed out an uncertain little laugh. Somewhere in the belly of their new house, Herbert was wrestling with his latest attempt at something new. Dan could catch the faint bangs and curses a whole floor above.
“Ah - well - we -”
“Oh,” Belinda gushed - her sallow face contorted all its little wrinkles, blue eyes sparkling in their deeply-set sockets. Dan had seen more lively corpses - even before entering the line of work he had with Herbert. “You simply must come by the town hall. We’re having a lovely community Thanksgiving ahead of time for all the new folks and families in town who might be…” her eyes ticked warily over the superficial imperfections of the repurposed Victorian. “Struggling.”
“And what,” Herbert said, manifesting directly by Dan’s left elbow [he didn’t jump, but Belinda did - the former was used to this sort of thing by now, after all] “exactly are you insinuating, Mrs. Plainwater?”
“Oh - just...that - well, you hardly seem to come out of your house,” Belinda laughed nervously, gloved hands wringing. Herbert’s brows arched skeptically above his thick glasses, expectant. “And I thought it might be a lovely opportunity to meet others you haven’t yet. Have a good meal, socialize - it could be good for you,” she added in a would-be-cheeky way. Herbert’s smile turned mockingly-simpering, and - sensing the vicious response bubbling beneath the surface - Dan gently set a hand on Herbert’s arm, smiling a terse smile down at Belinda.
“We - just aren’t really the type for...big parties. But this was a really generous invitation, Belinda, thank you--”
“Oh, hardly, Danny,” the old bat crooned - and Dan tightened his grip on Herbert’s arm ever-so-slightly, feeling him coil up in preparation to strike. Territorial didn’t even begin to cover it when it came to people referring to Dan by any sort of nickname in Herbert’s presence. “We just want you to know that you and your husband are most welcome. We’re a modern, forward-thinking community, after all…”
Herbert was saying something; now, undoubtedly as impolite as ever, but Dan was having a hard time hearing past the ringing in his ears. He blinked once, then twice, his lips parting into a silent oh of recognition. Right. Husband. They were - people thought they were married.
He would’ve laughed, but it did - make him think, somehow. He had, after all, once signed himself as Daniel West by some impulsive whim, so -
“--and furthermore, what banal little ceremonies and rituals you might have,” Herbert was rattling off as Dan started to “come to”, so to speak - “we want no part in them. We are above such fanciful and unnecessary social engagements that--”
“We’ll do it,” Dan said abruptly, placing a hand on Herbert’s back. The smaller man whipped his head accusingly Dan’s way, but Dan had eyes only for Belinda - determined, focused eyes, no less, with an authoritative gleam to them.
“Really?” Belinda asked, breathlessly surprised.
“Really,” said Herbert, less a question and more an exasperated accusation.
To each, Dan nodded - then shot Herbert the smallest of hopeful smiles.
“Really,” he confirmed. “It’d be nice to uh -” he caught a glimpse of something wriggling out from under the back of Herbert’s shirt. A singular finger. His eyes widened, and Dan pressed his hand more firmly to Herbert’s back, attempting to divert the inevitable. “Do something normal for a change,” he finished blithely, inclining his head.
“Oh, how lovely,” gushed Belinda, “I’ll inform the council-members who’ll be there right away. It’s the night before Thanksgiving - you know how to get to town hall, don’t you, dears? It’ll be such a joy to see you there - oh, are either of you vegetarian? I know how many of the gentlemen in your situation often are, so--”
“We are not vegetarian,” snapped Herbert shortly. “Anyone who declares themselves as such should b--” Dan put a hand to his chest this time, the other still on his back, as Herbert took a lethal little step toward the threshold of their abode.
“Anything you make will be fine, Belinda. Should we bring something too?” Dan asked mildly. Herbert stood rigid as a board, mutiny in his envy-green eyes. Belinda smiled brightly.
“Oh, only if you want to, dear - just yourselves is also completely fine.”
“I’ll just bring a little something,” Dan said, scrunching his nose with a smile. Herbert glanced slowly between Dan and Belinda, then relented - his feet flattening against the ground as he settled, gaze narrowed.
“...see you soon,” he said, with some semblance of a smile that made Belinda’s own fade from her face. As she turned to hurry off down the drive, humming under her breath, Herbert turned to face Dan with a dubious expression.
“What?” Dan asked, hands sliding off Herbert’s body. With a twist of his arm, Herbert wrenched the loose, crawling finger out from under his shirt to jab it in Dan’s general direction without a word, then turned to enter their home again, frog-marching away into the dark. “ What ?” Dan tried again, and also tried not to laugh - as he shut the door and hustled off to figure out what on earth he was going to make that would be…
Any sort of normal.
--
Normal, as it turned out, was hard to achieve when your - not-husband - was a mad scientist. Dan didn’t consider himself that, of course, even if they were, naturally, in a similar business. Together.
Normal, however, included making a macaroni casserole - Ritz crackers and all on top, baked in the oven, while Herbert skulked; sulking, around the kitchen behind him for hours, complaining of Dan’s lack of dedication to anything but “inconsequential trivium”, whatever that meant.
“Would it kill you,” Dan said, with twenty-six minutes left on the timer, apron on, and oven mitts raised high to the ceiling, “to at least pretend to be average for a change?”
“Quite. Possibly.” Herbert said, punctuating each word with a set of his teeth that made him look rather puglike. Dan had given up after that, other than telling Herbert to go change shirts because “we can’t get the bloodstains out of that collar”.
Herbert had obliged, but not before muttering that no one gave a rat’s ass about appearances as much as Daniel did - but Dan pointed out that he was, in fact, the example of normality in this house. To which Herbert had a scathing retort prepared - but for whatever reason, spared Dan. Maybe he was feeling overwhelmed. Or perhaps he would find a way to slip it in later when Dan least expected it - like a knife between his ribs.
They made it to the town hall without incident, at least - Herbert had been checked over thrice for hitchhikers, the lab had been routinely swept and cleaned, and they were, for all intents and purposes, respectably-clad.
Belinda greeted them at the door with warmth in her eyes and sticky lipstick kisses that Herbert expertly avoided. Dan allowed himself to be smeared - “anointed by the unholiest of beasts,” Herbert complained - before dutifully cleaning himself up again.
The town hall interior had been transformed with tablecloth-clad banquet tables. Town officials and local families mingled, chattering, over bowls of nuts and dried fruits, trays of celery sticks, carrots, and dips. Crackers and cheese floated by, carried by teenagers who looked bored out of their minds. Paper mache decorations were up everywhere. The insipid pilgrim and Native Americans holding hands at the front of the town hall by the stage made Herbert rattle off a series of unfortunate facts under his breath - till Dan gently shoved a cracker into his mouth to quiet him down.
They’d have an ordinary night. They’d be fine. This was all going to be fine.
Questions of “how’s work going”, “how do you find the town so far”, “how long have you two been together” and more began to pepper them as they made their way through the throngs, mingling with all the effectiveness of oil in water. Dan made every attempt to be polite, whereas Herbert made no attempt whatsoever.
“We haven’t been by to see your place yet, gentlemen,” said Mr. Branson, the principal at the town school. “It’s so nice to see historical properties repurposed.”
“Indeed,” Herbert said, and for one shining moment, Dan thought he might actually say something decent. “People are just dying to get in.” His insidious little giggle followed, and Dan lost all hope of anything vaguely-resembling
The macaroni and cheese casserole was assembled with the display of the rest of the potluck - wilted asparagus, a salmon salad, mash potatoes with runny butter, a bowl of mint peas, and -
“The most anemic-looking bird I’ve ever seen,” Herbert said dryly once Mrs. Norton and her husband had left them well enough alone. Dan glanced warily at the turkey in question, knocking against Herbert in the process, and...admittedly, it was not a pretty sight.
“Did they even season it?” Dan asked, mostly himself - and Herbert let out one of his odd little giggles, adjusting his glasses.
“Salt’s not a seasoning, but I doubt even that made it in there. It’s paler than I am, Daniel.” Herbert’s teeth flashed as they came together in a nigh-feral smile. “It’s paler than a three-day --” a Look, shockingly, stopped him for a moment, though Herbert did, grudgingly, land the plane with a mumbled “drowning victim.” A beat passed, then Herbert added, mildly hopeful: “perhaps a bit of reagent might--”
“Don’t you dare, ” Dan warned. “Besides, you don’t even have any on you. And I don’t even know if you could . It’s been cooked , for fuck’s sake--”
“Oh, heavens to Betsy,” exclaimed Belinda, hurrying toward the table. Herbert cocked his head, and Dan could see the calculations piling up - going in for the kill, no doubt goaded on by the proclamation that he couldn’t do something. Just watch me , his sideways glance to Dan said, and was met with a frantic bulging of eyes from his partner. No.
“Unless the turkey is Betsy, I doubt she needs deliverance,” he said. Belinda, dutifully, ignored him - motioning instead to Dan.
“Danny, darling--” there came the twitch in Herbert’s jaw, the telltale flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Would you be a doll and take this back to the kitchen? I fear it’s not done basting.”
“It’s been basted before?” Dan picked up the bird without so much as a grunt - and Herbert preened internally, knowing just how much more weight a man of Dan’s caliber could, in fact, heft if so desired.
“Oh, yes, I just think Maryann got distracted with the squash,” Belinda laughed, hustling Dan toward the kitchen. “Just take it back there and make sure it’s seen to, won’t you please? There’s a love…” Herbert, making a face, slipped out after Dan - and, with one hand on the contraband he’d hidden in his belt, began to hatch a scheme.
As Dan set the turkey down on the counter and turned to speak to the few people attending additional dishes in the kitchen, Herbert swooped in. The tiniest vial of reagent - one of three he managed to slip into the carved-out components on the back of a thick belt - was fitted with a thin needle. He’d make sure this party was a memorable one. There was nothing normal about that turkey. He’d just fix it up real quick and -
“I was just --” suddenly, Dan’s hand seized his wrist, and Herbert froze, needle extended into the air. “Telling Herbert here how nice it is to get out for a change. Isn’t that right, Herbert? Sweetheart ?” Dan asked, in that saccharine tone of pretending through a would-be-pleasant smile. Herbert glowered up at him, thumb still slotted against the end of the syringe.
“Goodness me, what’s that?” asked one of the women from behind Dan - always women, Herbert thought, gaze narrowing slightly yet again.
“It’s his very own sage baster, isn’t it? He’s so clever,” Dan explained it all away, then pressed a kiss to the side of Herbert’s hand, murmuring: “don’t you dare” under his breath. Herbert huffed, and, uncurling his fingers slightly, raised his hands to the heavens.
“Guilty as charged,” he monotoned, and the two women laughed brightly.
“Sweet of you to want to help, but Becky here has it covered.”
“Amy’s the expert on gravy duty,” said Becky. Herbert smiled his pained smile as Dan finally let go of his hand.
As the two women waltzed away to continue their work, Dan turned back Herbert’s way with a more direct warning: "Stop it, though, Herbert, these are our neighbors. Let's at least try not to wear out our welcome at the usual rate this time..."
“But this is abysmal,” Herbert complained, rolling his sleeves back down, reagent still clenched in his hand. “There’s no flavor. These people are boring. Wouldn’t it be more effective to see if we can’t reanimate anything like this turkey? What if we can do it to any organic matter? Would potatoes grow again? Would beans? I could put a little in the wine, and--”
“Herbert,” Dan sighed. “Enough already, alright? Normal night, remember?” Herbert’s mouth protruded, drooping, into a horseshoe of despair.
“You don’t love me,” he complained, loud enough for the others nearby to hear. Dan’s eyes widened - then rolled, prolifically exasperated. Out of his mouth, automatic, however-annoyed, flew:
"Don't make a scene, you know I do." It took both of them by surprise.
For a moment, all they could do was stand in the kitchen, staring at one another. Dan’s hand had once again found Herbert’s wrist, and, with a little smile, Dan dropped his eyes to the floor. Herbert’s mouth moved; though, softening, and he wasn’t sure, for once, what to say. He disliked that. Not knowing.
Thankfully, that was when the night went from mediocre to magnificent - when suddenly, as if borne by a lulling breeze, the voice of Mr. Branson came drifting by -
“--just don’t see why that Jew and his little queer had to move here, was a perfectly-respectable town before that--”
“You were just saying how excited you were for them to have their house,” his wife cajoled, hushing as they wandered by the open kitchen door.
“That was just conversation,” Branson grunted, “don’t want them to think we’re unwelcoming. Wouldn’t do for the town’s reputation, but, then again…” they floated back into the din of chatter in the crowd, and for a moment, the kitchen was quiet. Amy and Becky had fled, perhaps under the guise of delivering something “scrumptious” [Becky’s word] to the rest of those gathered.
Dan’s dark eyes lifted; stinging, suddenly, from the floor, and, raising his head, he straightened, glancing back toward the rest of the town hall. Herbert felt the hand on his arm curl a little bit more, and then -
Dan let go.
“You know, Herbert,” he said finally, “I think you might’ve been right after all, sweetheart.” Their eyes met, and Dan smiled thinly. “I think we really aren’t cut out for normal after all.” His chin pointed toward the pale bird on the stovetop. Herbert’s eyes rounded a little, and, after a moment, he smiled.
The reagent lifted on high, a perfect baster to administer something... flavorful.
“Danny,” Herbert said smugly, “I’m always right. But so are you.” Dan glanced up from fidgeting with his hands, turning his body a little to block Herbert from view of any other nosy rubberneckers.
“I think we’re about to become the life of the party,” Herbert grinned - and jammed the reagent into the turkey with the force of a man whose willpower had been thoroughly restored.
And Dan could only laugh.