it turned into a quiet thought [500 days of bliss]
Title: it turned into a quiet thought
Fandom: 500 Days of Bliss
Summary: "Hey," Bliss said quietly, squeezing his waist. "What do you think? We did good, huh?"
Pairing: Bliss/Tom
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Notes: First in my "25 Days of Fic 2010" series.
There were a few things Tom really didn't like. And one of those things were Christmas trees. Real Christmas trees. He hate the needles and the smell and the way they slowly died and left nothing behind but eight million more needles that he'd have to vacuum up until March. So when Bliss called one Saturday morning and informed him they were going to go pick out a tree, he almost hung up on her. It wasn't anything about her. It was the fucking trees.
But he was there anyway, trying to figure out how Los Angeles managed to produce enough Christmas trees for all the people milling about, ready to haul the monstrosities into their homes.
"Please, Tom. Could you look more unhappy to be here? I'm loving it," Bliss said, rolling her eyes and looking at a price tag.
"I hate trees."
"Well it's not for your apartment, is it? It's for mine. And I happen to adore real trees. Fake ones are disgusting. They smell like mold and dust."
"Mine doesn't."
"Have you put it up yet?" Tom shook his head and watched a couple make out by a group of obnoxiously tall evergreens. Bliss winked at him and looked at another price tag. "These are so expensive, fuck."
"I'll get it for you."
"No. You won't. The pricey ones are too tall for my living room anyway. I live in a duplex, Tom. Duplex. It's the size of a fucking dollhouse. Let's look at the short ones. Maybe I'll finally get one that's small enough for me to put the star on myself." She took his hand in hers and led him toward the cheaper trees. They did smell good, when they were out here. But everything was just better when Tom held her hand. She saw things in ways he didn't and looking at the world with her next to him gave him a brighter perspective on life. "This is the one. It's perfect, see? Will you help me decorate?" she asked, looking at a more appropriately priced tree.
"Definitely." She smiled and kissed his cheek, then ran to find someone to help her get the tree home. Tom was alone with her selection, trying to figure out what was so special about it. His own family had never been ones for the real tree either. Always, they made a big show of spreading out all the pieces, sorting them by size and remembering that they had the same missing branch this year that they did last year, vowing for the umpteenth time that they'd eventually by a new tree. "Maybe a real one next year," his mother would say, and then his father would make a face and they wouldn't talk about it anymore.
"Ready?" Bliss asked as one of the attendants had a few grunt workers hoist the tree out of it holder and toward her truck. Tom had always loved her truck and understood part of its value now, though he realized the minute they were driving away that the two of them would have to be the ones to actually put the tree up in the condo. Bliss was singing happily along to 'Jingle Bell Rock' and Tom watched the tree shake in the truck bed. There was something about it, almost as if the tree knew he was uneasy about its presence. He couldn't say why. It was stupid, really. Bliss turned the music down and looked at him. "Okay. Spill it. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Tom, you've been acting like someone punched your cat in the face all day. What the fuck is the matter with you? Other than the fact that you don't have a cat and that's clearly depressing the hell out of you."
"I hate cats."
"What's wrong?"
"The tree. It's watching me."
"I'm being serious."
"So am I." She sighed and he relented. "We never had real trees. My dad hated them. They just...make me feel awkward. I don't know. And...and you're asking me to be a part of this and feel like it's such a big deal for you and all of a sudden I'm just there and I'm in the middle of it all." Bliss gripped the steering wheel tighter and shot him a strange look. "What?"
"You're not some piece of furniture, Tom. It's not like I picked you up at Wal-Mart and I can take you back whenever I feel like it. It doesn't work that way. I'm asking you to help me because I love you and you're a part of my life and because I can't get the fucking thing inside by myself. Fair enough?" And tree be damned, he laughed then, trying to imagine Bliss dragging the thing into her apartment all on her own. "Also I want to watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer tonight. And I hate watching Christmas specials alone. It makes me feel suicidal. Almost. Not really. Is this my turn?" Tom glanced into the back and felt better about the tree. He felt better about it all, really.
The tree was still too tall for Bliss to put the star up on her own. Tom conceded and eventually stood on his toes to get the decoration on the top, where it caught the living room light and sent white dots all over the walls. They'd had a brief near-death encounter with a strand of lights that started popping in their hands and Tom had dropped three of Bliss's "good decorations" before she assigned him to garland duty for the rest of the night. The tree stand hand seemed like it wasn't going to work for a good thirty minutes when the actual tree itself appeared to be toppling over half a dozen times.
But in the end, it all worked out fine.
Bliss bend behind the tree and plugged all the lights in just as Tom turned out the living room lamp. They stood in front of it, admiring their work. He pulled her close and realized he didn't mind the smell of the spruce, not when Bliss was baking a roll of sugar cookies and there was coffee on the table and the radio was playing in the background. It was idyllic and he remembered exactly why he'd loved this holiday, why he'd always come running home on that last day of school, full of the energy he'd decidedly lacked earlier in the morning. He remembered why his mother's pies were always better than his aunt's and why sneaking sips of his dad's eggnog and getting caught was always met with a wink from his old man. Why his mother drank a bit too much sherry and let her husband kiss her under the mistletoe. It all felt surreal and warm.
"Hey," Bliss said quietly, squeezing his waist. "What do you think? We did good, huh?"
"Yeah. We did good."
"I think the star is crooked."
"Oh? Do you want to go fix it? Be my guest. I'll call the fire department to come get you down." She untangled her arm from his and hit him on the back of the head, then pulled him down for a kiss. The music came back and he turned her in a tiny twirl. "We're sickening," he murmured into her hair. "You're too fantastic for words at this point."
"And yet, you keep talking."
"I can shut up, if you'd like me to."
"I would, yes." Tom smiled and bent down for another kiss. He had a feeling that this was going to be a good Christmas.
Fandom: 500 Days of Bliss
Summary: "Hey," Bliss said quietly, squeezing his waist. "What do you think? We did good, huh?"
Pairing: Bliss/Tom
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Notes: First in my "25 Days of Fic 2010" series.
There were a few things Tom really didn't like. And one of those things were Christmas trees. Real Christmas trees. He hate the needles and the smell and the way they slowly died and left nothing behind but eight million more needles that he'd have to vacuum up until March. So when Bliss called one Saturday morning and informed him they were going to go pick out a tree, he almost hung up on her. It wasn't anything about her. It was the fucking trees.
But he was there anyway, trying to figure out how Los Angeles managed to produce enough Christmas trees for all the people milling about, ready to haul the monstrosities into their homes.
"Please, Tom. Could you look more unhappy to be here? I'm loving it," Bliss said, rolling her eyes and looking at a price tag.
"I hate trees."
"Well it's not for your apartment, is it? It's for mine. And I happen to adore real trees. Fake ones are disgusting. They smell like mold and dust."
"Mine doesn't."
"Have you put it up yet?" Tom shook his head and watched a couple make out by a group of obnoxiously tall evergreens. Bliss winked at him and looked at another price tag. "These are so expensive, fuck."
"I'll get it for you."
"No. You won't. The pricey ones are too tall for my living room anyway. I live in a duplex, Tom. Duplex. It's the size of a fucking dollhouse. Let's look at the short ones. Maybe I'll finally get one that's small enough for me to put the star on myself." She took his hand in hers and led him toward the cheaper trees. They did smell good, when they were out here. But everything was just better when Tom held her hand. She saw things in ways he didn't and looking at the world with her next to him gave him a brighter perspective on life. "This is the one. It's perfect, see? Will you help me decorate?" she asked, looking at a more appropriately priced tree.
"Definitely." She smiled and kissed his cheek, then ran to find someone to help her get the tree home. Tom was alone with her selection, trying to figure out what was so special about it. His own family had never been ones for the real tree either. Always, they made a big show of spreading out all the pieces, sorting them by size and remembering that they had the same missing branch this year that they did last year, vowing for the umpteenth time that they'd eventually by a new tree. "Maybe a real one next year," his mother would say, and then his father would make a face and they wouldn't talk about it anymore.
"Ready?" Bliss asked as one of the attendants had a few grunt workers hoist the tree out of it holder and toward her truck. Tom had always loved her truck and understood part of its value now, though he realized the minute they were driving away that the two of them would have to be the ones to actually put the tree up in the condo. Bliss was singing happily along to 'Jingle Bell Rock' and Tom watched the tree shake in the truck bed. There was something about it, almost as if the tree knew he was uneasy about its presence. He couldn't say why. It was stupid, really. Bliss turned the music down and looked at him. "Okay. Spill it. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Tom, you've been acting like someone punched your cat in the face all day. What the fuck is the matter with you? Other than the fact that you don't have a cat and that's clearly depressing the hell out of you."
"I hate cats."
"What's wrong?"
"The tree. It's watching me."
"I'm being serious."
"So am I." She sighed and he relented. "We never had real trees. My dad hated them. They just...make me feel awkward. I don't know. And...and you're asking me to be a part of this and feel like it's such a big deal for you and all of a sudden I'm just there and I'm in the middle of it all." Bliss gripped the steering wheel tighter and shot him a strange look. "What?"
"You're not some piece of furniture, Tom. It's not like I picked you up at Wal-Mart and I can take you back whenever I feel like it. It doesn't work that way. I'm asking you to help me because I love you and you're a part of my life and because I can't get the fucking thing inside by myself. Fair enough?" And tree be damned, he laughed then, trying to imagine Bliss dragging the thing into her apartment all on her own. "Also I want to watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer tonight. And I hate watching Christmas specials alone. It makes me feel suicidal. Almost. Not really. Is this my turn?" Tom glanced into the back and felt better about the tree. He felt better about it all, really.
The tree was still too tall for Bliss to put the star up on her own. Tom conceded and eventually stood on his toes to get the decoration on the top, where it caught the living room light and sent white dots all over the walls. They'd had a brief near-death encounter with a strand of lights that started popping in their hands and Tom had dropped three of Bliss's "good decorations" before she assigned him to garland duty for the rest of the night. The tree stand hand seemed like it wasn't going to work for a good thirty minutes when the actual tree itself appeared to be toppling over half a dozen times.
But in the end, it all worked out fine.
Bliss bend behind the tree and plugged all the lights in just as Tom turned out the living room lamp. They stood in front of it, admiring their work. He pulled her close and realized he didn't mind the smell of the spruce, not when Bliss was baking a roll of sugar cookies and there was coffee on the table and the radio was playing in the background. It was idyllic and he remembered exactly why he'd loved this holiday, why he'd always come running home on that last day of school, full of the energy he'd decidedly lacked earlier in the morning. He remembered why his mother's pies were always better than his aunt's and why sneaking sips of his dad's eggnog and getting caught was always met with a wink from his old man. Why his mother drank a bit too much sherry and let her husband kiss her under the mistletoe. It all felt surreal and warm.
"Hey," Bliss said quietly, squeezing his waist. "What do you think? We did good, huh?"
"Yeah. We did good."
"I think the star is crooked."
"Oh? Do you want to go fix it? Be my guest. I'll call the fire department to come get you down." She untangled her arm from his and hit him on the back of the head, then pulled him down for a kiss. The music came back and he turned her in a tiny twirl. "We're sickening," he murmured into her hair. "You're too fantastic for words at this point."
"And yet, you keep talking."
"I can shut up, if you'd like me to."
"I would, yes." Tom smiled and bent down for another kiss. He had a feeling that this was going to be a good Christmas.