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Christmas Fic (Mistletoe)
Jun. 27th, 2018 09:16 am( Read more... )
Christmas Fic (Bradford)
Jun. 26th, 2018 09:12 amIt was Christmas morning. Bradford only now just realized. It had been years since he bothered celebrating. This was perhaps the first year anything was worth celebrating in a very long time.
ADVENT was gone and the man who made that possible was using him as pillow.
That in itself was a gift. Having him not only here, but also still asleep. Will was a finicky sleeper. If it wasn’t his nightmares that woke him it was because he was too cold. If it wasn’t that it was sudden noises, no matter how quiet. One creaking tree was enough to get Will wide-awake for the next few hours.
But all was quiet outside and within their tent. The sleeping bag was made for colder climates than Kansas, so Will was toasty warm inside with Bradford. The winter sun was just barely up, meaning they had slept in. But he didn’t care. It was Christmas. It did give Bradford enough light to make out Will’s head resting on his chest. The man’s normally tidy hair was mussed and sticking up in odd angles.
He risked rubbing Will’s back. He mumbled in his sleep, and Bradford thought the action had woke him. Will mumbled one more time, then settled. Still relaxed and fast asleep. Bradford smiled knowing it was nothing short of familiarity and trust that made Will comfortable enough that the movement wasn’t worth being startled over.
He never could have imagined this ten years ago. It was like his every desperate prayer was answered. Like a lifetime of pain was finally being repaid.
There would not be any presents exchanged today. No tree or large Christmas breakfast, but the still air and the peace he felt as he lay there with Will was sweeter than all of that.
Peace. Who would have thought?
Christmas Fic (Weir)
Jun. 26th, 2018 09:10 amWeir didn’t normally celebrate Christmas. Not since he was twelve, though his 'uncle' had tried to keep the holiday spirit. The first year he got them a small tree the minute his uncle thought they were safe enough to stop moving. Weir had been too exhausted from the death of his parents and being uprooted to appreciate the gesture.
His uncle had given him a knife on Christmas morning. Weir had gripped it, his knuckles white, and thought about using it. His uncle’s back was turned. It would be easy to jump up and slash the bastard’s throat. He hadn’t, of course. As angry and depressed he was at the time, he wasn’t dumb. He wouldn’t survive without the man.
Eventually his uncle would give up trying to enjoy the holiday season with his ward. They weren’t a normal family. Celebrating Christmas like one felt perverse to Weir.
It was now 2035 and he was no longer a teenager being dragged through the Outback by his paranoid uncle. No, instead he was wandering the American Heartland with a man he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with. However long that was.
They had stopped in Kansas not far from the farm John’s grandparents owned. They hadn’t discussed it, but Weir knew they would be lingering here for awhile. He didn’t mind.
John was thinking about building a house and settling, he could tell. Weir was just waiting for him to finally say something about it.
Weir didn’t normally celebrate Christmas, but on December 15th he heard John humming Jingle Bells without realizing it. So while John was out getting some supplies, Weir went to cut down a reasonable sized tree and dragged it back to their camp. He made ornaments with paper and strung popcorn together on a string.
John’s smile when he saw it washed away Weir’s reservations about celebrating the holiday.
Neither of them had gotten gifts in the traditional sense. The quiet peace that existed between them was more than either of them could ask for.
