this icon still makes me laugh
Today's request ficlet is solely for the entertainment of duckduck, because really she is the only one who cares about this universe. Besides me, of course. Also, she's the only one who knows all the in-jokes I never bother to explain since I am not writing in any sort of linear fashion whatsoever. Fandom of two! Rules go out the window.
They didn't celebrate Christmas their first year in Alaska. There wasn't much to celebrate, for one, and it wasn't like either of them had ever decorated a tree, let alone gone out and cut one down. But they'd learned a few things in the past couple years, and Brett figured it couldn't hurt to cut down a tree and stick it in the corner of the living room for awhile.
It didn't look quite so tall when he was outside surrounded by other, even bigger trees, but once he got it inside the cabin it seemed huge. He had to take off a couple feet just to keep it from hitting the ceiling, and once the branches fell it took up a good quarter of the room. It smelled good, though, and he decorated it with ornaments he made out of salt dough. It wasn't his idea; he found the recipe in the back of an old cookbook, and he found the cookie cutters in a box in the diner's storeroom. Still, they looked pretty good when he was done, and Avery seemed to get a kick out of hanging little baked reindeer on the tree.
Avery was the one who suggested the popcorn, and Brett didn't even know they had a sewing kit, but apparently sewing was one of those skills you learned on a fishing boat. Avery swore it was for mending holes in socks or gloves when they couldn't go to the store to replace them, but Brett had a feeling more than one of those guys had sewed up a wound in their careers. So far Avery hadn't come home with any weird, ragged scars, but Brett knew it was only a matter of time.
Still, he'd come home, and that alone was worth celebrating. Even after three years Brett couldn't relax while Avery was fishing, not until he walked through the door exhausted and way too skinny, but alive. The worst part was that even if something did happen, nobody would bother to call and tell him. Avery hadn't told his captain he lived with another guy, but even if he did, they didn't have a permanent phone number to give him. That was a little trickier now that Brett was working a regular job, but getting a permanent phone meant contracts and monthly payments, and he still hadn't stopped looking over his shoulder expecting to see the barrel of some mobster's gun.
So he held his breath all the way through the season, and it wasn't until Avery came home that he managed to relax a little. Not much, though, especially not at the end of King Crab season, because he knew Avery would be leaving again in January. The six weeks they spent together between Thanksgiving and New Year's were pretty much borrowed time, and that was as good a reason for a Christmas tree and a turkey as Brett could think of.
On Christmas morning he left Avery asleep in bed, sprawled across the mattress and taking up most of the space. And if Brett had known he was such a fucking bed hog...well, okay, he'd still be sleeping with Avery, but at least he would have known what he was getting into. Then again, he never woke up cold anymore, even when the wind blew so hard outside he could hear it whistling through the cracks in the cabin's siding. Brett made a mental note to add that to his list of summer projects and turned his attention to the coffee pot.
He didn't hear Avery until he was already in the living room, and by the time Brett thought to wonder what he was doing out there Avery appeared in the kitchen door wearing an old thermal shirt and a pair of jeans. His feet were bare, as usual, and Brett shook his head and reached into the fridge for the eggs. "Put some fucking socks on, Avery."
His back was still to the door when warm arms slid around his waist, pulling him back away from the counter. Brett rolled his eyes but let Avery pull him close, the carton of eggs still clutched in one hand while he tilted his neck to let Avery kiss a path from his ear to his chin. "I'm not cold."
"Yeah, well, you're making me cold just looking at you," Brett said, but the truth was he didn't feel all that cold right now. Now with Avery wrapped around him, breathing against his skin and sending little shivers of anticipation down Brett's spine.
"Come out in the living room, I have something for you."
"The bed's warmer," Brett said, and when Avery laughed against his neck he had to swallow a groan.
"That's not what I meant. But it's not a bad idea, now that you mention it." Avery reached around him and took the carton of eggs out of his hand, setting them down on the corner before he spun Brett around and dragged him out of the kitchen. "Come on. You'll like it, I promise."
Brett rolled his eyes again but let Avery pull him into the living room, toward the tree where a box sat under the branches, wrapped in red paper. It had a bow and everything, and Brett could tell even from across the room that Avery hadn't wrapped it himself.
"What's this?" Brett said when Avery handed it to him, frowning down at it for a second before he looked up at Avery again.
"It's a Christmas present, what's it look like? Open it."
Brett slid a finger under the edge of the paper, carefully pulling back the tape on one side. He took just as much time with the other side, finally pulling the paper off to reveal a white shirt box. "Since when do we give each other presents, anyway?"
"Since you decided to fill half the living room with a pine tree," Avery answered, grinning when Brett scowled at him. "What's the point of a Christmas tree if you're not going to put anything under it?"
Brett didn't answer; instead he slid the top off the box and folded back a layer of tissue paper, shaking his head when he realized what was inside. "Asshole."
"What?" Avery said, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. "It's for your collection."
"I don't have a fucking collection," Brett said. He pulled the apron out of the box and held it up, taking in the the picture of a fishing boat and the words 'It's Good to Be Captain' printed across the front of the apron. And he'd known they had souvenir shops in the town where all the fishing boats docked for supplies, mostly for the whacko tourists who went up there to see the guys from the show and hang around looking for autographs. But he'd pictured coffee mugs and maybe t-shirts, not...this. He wasn't even sure how the whole apron joke got started, but he was starting to figure out that whether he liked it or not, Avery was going to make sure he ended up with a collection.
"Come on, try it on."
"Jesus, Avery, it's an apron," Brett answered, but he stood up anyway and slid the strap over his head, then he tied it behind his back. "Happy?"
"Yes," Avery answered. He stood up and slid his arms around Brett's waist again, pulling him forward for a soft kiss. "Never been happier."
~
Hey, have you noticed the amount of buffalo plaid being used by the fashion industry this year? It is bizarrely everywhere all of a sudden. I feel this is a direct result of the Deadliest AU. Not that I have ever actually written anything about the buffalo plaid cap, I don't think, but it exists in my brain, so clearly the fashion industry is picking up my brainwaves.
Work has been exciting times this week, though mostly on a personal front rather than a 'crazy patrons are crazy' front, so I will spare you the details. Suffice it to say that I learned this week that I cannot take a hint even when it is fucking gift-wrapped, and if I want anything done around here, I'm apparently going to have to do it myself.
They didn't celebrate Christmas their first year in Alaska. There wasn't much to celebrate, for one, and it wasn't like either of them had ever decorated a tree, let alone gone out and cut one down. But they'd learned a few things in the past couple years, and Brett figured it couldn't hurt to cut down a tree and stick it in the corner of the living room for awhile.
It didn't look quite so tall when he was outside surrounded by other, even bigger trees, but once he got it inside the cabin it seemed huge. He had to take off a couple feet just to keep it from hitting the ceiling, and once the branches fell it took up a good quarter of the room. It smelled good, though, and he decorated it with ornaments he made out of salt dough. It wasn't his idea; he found the recipe in the back of an old cookbook, and he found the cookie cutters in a box in the diner's storeroom. Still, they looked pretty good when he was done, and Avery seemed to get a kick out of hanging little baked reindeer on the tree.
Avery was the one who suggested the popcorn, and Brett didn't even know they had a sewing kit, but apparently sewing was one of those skills you learned on a fishing boat. Avery swore it was for mending holes in socks or gloves when they couldn't go to the store to replace them, but Brett had a feeling more than one of those guys had sewed up a wound in their careers. So far Avery hadn't come home with any weird, ragged scars, but Brett knew it was only a matter of time.
Still, he'd come home, and that alone was worth celebrating. Even after three years Brett couldn't relax while Avery was fishing, not until he walked through the door exhausted and way too skinny, but alive. The worst part was that even if something did happen, nobody would bother to call and tell him. Avery hadn't told his captain he lived with another guy, but even if he did, they didn't have a permanent phone number to give him. That was a little trickier now that Brett was working a regular job, but getting a permanent phone meant contracts and monthly payments, and he still hadn't stopped looking over his shoulder expecting to see the barrel of some mobster's gun.
So he held his breath all the way through the season, and it wasn't until Avery came home that he managed to relax a little. Not much, though, especially not at the end of King Crab season, because he knew Avery would be leaving again in January. The six weeks they spent together between Thanksgiving and New Year's were pretty much borrowed time, and that was as good a reason for a Christmas tree and a turkey as Brett could think of.
On Christmas morning he left Avery asleep in bed, sprawled across the mattress and taking up most of the space. And if Brett had known he was such a fucking bed hog...well, okay, he'd still be sleeping with Avery, but at least he would have known what he was getting into. Then again, he never woke up cold anymore, even when the wind blew so hard outside he could hear it whistling through the cracks in the cabin's siding. Brett made a mental note to add that to his list of summer projects and turned his attention to the coffee pot.
He didn't hear Avery until he was already in the living room, and by the time Brett thought to wonder what he was doing out there Avery appeared in the kitchen door wearing an old thermal shirt and a pair of jeans. His feet were bare, as usual, and Brett shook his head and reached into the fridge for the eggs. "Put some fucking socks on, Avery."
His back was still to the door when warm arms slid around his waist, pulling him back away from the counter. Brett rolled his eyes but let Avery pull him close, the carton of eggs still clutched in one hand while he tilted his neck to let Avery kiss a path from his ear to his chin. "I'm not cold."
"Yeah, well, you're making me cold just looking at you," Brett said, but the truth was he didn't feel all that cold right now. Now with Avery wrapped around him, breathing against his skin and sending little shivers of anticipation down Brett's spine.
"Come out in the living room, I have something for you."
"The bed's warmer," Brett said, and when Avery laughed against his neck he had to swallow a groan.
"That's not what I meant. But it's not a bad idea, now that you mention it." Avery reached around him and took the carton of eggs out of his hand, setting them down on the corner before he spun Brett around and dragged him out of the kitchen. "Come on. You'll like it, I promise."
Brett rolled his eyes again but let Avery pull him into the living room, toward the tree where a box sat under the branches, wrapped in red paper. It had a bow and everything, and Brett could tell even from across the room that Avery hadn't wrapped it himself.
"What's this?" Brett said when Avery handed it to him, frowning down at it for a second before he looked up at Avery again.
"It's a Christmas present, what's it look like? Open it."
Brett slid a finger under the edge of the paper, carefully pulling back the tape on one side. He took just as much time with the other side, finally pulling the paper off to reveal a white shirt box. "Since when do we give each other presents, anyway?"
"Since you decided to fill half the living room with a pine tree," Avery answered, grinning when Brett scowled at him. "What's the point of a Christmas tree if you're not going to put anything under it?"
Brett didn't answer; instead he slid the top off the box and folded back a layer of tissue paper, shaking his head when he realized what was inside. "Asshole."
"What?" Avery said, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. "It's for your collection."
"I don't have a fucking collection," Brett said. He pulled the apron out of the box and held it up, taking in the the picture of a fishing boat and the words 'It's Good to Be Captain' printed across the front of the apron. And he'd known they had souvenir shops in the town where all the fishing boats docked for supplies, mostly for the whacko tourists who went up there to see the guys from the show and hang around looking for autographs. But he'd pictured coffee mugs and maybe t-shirts, not...this. He wasn't even sure how the whole apron joke got started, but he was starting to figure out that whether he liked it or not, Avery was going to make sure he ended up with a collection.
"Come on, try it on."
"Jesus, Avery, it's an apron," Brett answered, but he stood up anyway and slid the strap over his head, then he tied it behind his back. "Happy?"
"Yes," Avery answered. He stood up and slid his arms around Brett's waist again, pulling him forward for a soft kiss. "Never been happier."
~
Hey, have you noticed the amount of buffalo plaid being used by the fashion industry this year? It is bizarrely everywhere all of a sudden. I feel this is a direct result of the Deadliest AU. Not that I have ever actually written anything about the buffalo plaid cap, I don't think, but it exists in my brain, so clearly the fashion industry is picking up my brainwaves.
Work has been exciting times this week, though mostly on a personal front rather than a 'crazy patrons are crazy' front, so I will spare you the details. Suffice it to say that I learned this week that I cannot take a hint even when it is fucking gift-wrapped, and if I want anything done around here, I'm apparently going to have to do it myself.