patrick feely was being personally victimized by a carton of eggnog.

he’d been to three different shops already, each one smaller and more useless than the last, all because his very insistent and very pregnant sister had decided she needed eggnog on christmas day like it was life or death. he didn’t even know anyone who actually drank the stuff. thick, sweet, vaguely offensive. but no, of course, today was the day it had to be found.

so here he was, in some tiny shop on the far side of ballylaggin, shoulders hunched slightly as he scanned yet another fridge for eggnog that somehow disappeared off the face of the entire earth. nothing.

patrick dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply through his nose as he crouched a bit to read the lower labels. milk, cream, something that looked expired, and there it was. he let out a thankful sigh.

one carton. shoved to the back corner like it had been hiding from him all day. “you’ve got to be joking,” he muttered, already reaching for it, fingers brushing the cool plastic as he yanked the fridge door open.

and then—

another hand.

smaller. quicker. it slipped right under his and snatched the carton clean out from under him.

patrick froze for half a second, blinking down at where the eggnog had just been, before turning sharply.

of course it was you, his weird sort of situationship over the summer that had now transformed into bickering and rivalry. he actually laughed once, short and disbelieving, before his expression flattened into something far less amused.

“oh, no you did not,” he said, already stepping closer.

you stood there like you hadn’t just committed a crime, carton tucked casually against your side, chin tipped up just enough to be irritating. he knew that look. knew it well.

you’d been at each other’s throats since the moment he confirmed that all it was over the summer was a short fling. stupid comments turned into arguments, arguments turned into a habit neither of you seemed all that eager to break. there wasn’t even a proper reason anymore. it was just… you.

and him.

and whatever this was.

patrick ran his tongue along his teeth, eyeing the carton like he could will it back into his hand.

“fuck’s sake,” he half-muttered, half-pleaded, scrubbing a hand down his face before looking back at you. “i need that.”

he didn’t even try to sound polite. it wouldn’t suit either of you. you just stood there, and patrick let out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shifting his weight as he dragged his gaze back to yours.

“don’t start,” he added, already knowing you would. “i’ve been all over the place for that stupid thing.”