Sam had prepared so many retorts for that. He had known Matty would say something like that and he had practised it in his head endlessly. Yet when Matty actually said it, in Spanish no less, he felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. He had to blink because it felt as if tears might spring to his eyes and he tightened his hands so much that it hurt, fingernails leaving little imprints in his palm.

He was used to so much worse, him and Harry got it all the time. Just like racism too. Sometimes they provoked it on purpose. But it had never hurt him before because it had never been Matty. Matty so soon after yet another quip about him leaving.

It took him a few moments longer before he followed Matty out of the kitchen and then he simply focused on his task, setting the cutlery down next to the plates. He felt like there was a knot in his throat and he wanted to be anywhere but here. Bravely, he sat down next to Harry instead of bolting, and he reached for his hand under the table, even though he didn't look at him.

"Thanks, boys," Bobby said, seeing the usual fallout of the brothers being in a fight. Ah, family time. "If we are doing proper Christmas this year, someone's gonna have to go out and chop down a tree. I've got a feeling it ain't gonna be me. Or Harry here, either. We got better things to do."

"I'll handle it," Sam promised, glancing at Harry with an almost shy smile, "You always say I've got lumberjack style."