fic: braving december.
Title: Braving December
Author: sugarpromises
Fandom: Enchanted (2007 movie)
Characters: Giselle, Robert
Rating: PG 13
Summary: New York is like this in the wintertime.
Author's Note: Written for Yuletide 2009. Spurned from the hopeful hollowness that is my heart. Thank you to lapiccolina for giving it the read over to reassure me it made sense.
New York is vibrant in the wintertime. As soon as the big parade is over, everybody puts up all the lights they can find. It's as though they need something to navigate them into the New Year. Giselle's not at all surprised; these days, nights are darker faster, she figures they need all the help they can get.
In the last week of November, Giselle thinks she can feel a change. She almost appreciates its subtleties and can even accept its consequence, but December knocks her right off her axis. She feels like she's crawled out from under that manhole again, like she has found herself in a brand new world.
These days, she especially notices the city in colour. Its hues are harsh and desperate, bright and demanding. They want a kind of energy she's not sure she's ready to give. She's not even sure she understands what exactly it is that's going on.
"Christmas," Morgan announces when red and green start to creep their way into window displays. "Christmas is coming up and people all change when they're waiting for Christmas to come."
"Change how?"
"I don't know, they just do."
Morgan says it's her favourite time of the year and relishes in the anticipation. There are already lists upon lists, letters to a man named Santa Claus detailing her behaviour in the past year. Giselle finds that odd since good is good and bad is bad, what need is there to list them?
Robert stews and dreads the aftermath. The rate of divorce seems to double every year after the holiday glow wears off, he tells her. People snap out of that dream and crash back into reality, there's so much to argue and clean up after. She doesn't understand what kind of glow a holiday can give you, but he just shakes his head and kisses her forehead before settling into sleep.
In the dark, now lying awake, Giselle remembers how she crashed out of her dream and into his reality. She wonders what's left of her to clean-up.
*
New York is dense in the wintertime. The people on the street seem to multiply by the dozen. It's hard to make it down the street for a quick lunch, let alone a quick stroll to visit a neighbour or friend. Robert stays in his office for most of his day. He avoids all his calls and just stares out the window.
They've settled into everyday life, he and Giselle. He thinks she's moved along quite nicely, adjusting to the norms of her new life. Dragons and spells are a thing of the past and actions are no longer accented by cadences and song. Yet, lately, he's been sensing a hesitation in her steps. Where she's been exuberant and hopeful, she's now careful and quiet. It's not an extreme difference, but one he notices nonetheless. The fantastical and reality hardly go hand in hand; perhaps she's waiting for something more.
It's times like these, he wishes for a dragon to slay.
One day she'll tire from all of this. As winter kicks in, he worries it's a matter of time before the steamy sewer of the city barrels through, New York will lose its appeal, and she'll wonder what she ever saw in this miserable city. When he stares out his window, he can almost picture a sunny day, a park full of caricatures, and a beautiful princess in blue capturing his heart.
He spends most of December wishing for summer, he forgets about remembering Christmas.
*
New York is bitterly cold in the winter time. Giselle finds herself dragging a fleece blanket with her as she moves through the apartment, unable to keep warm on her own. All she wants is to be surrounded by Robert's heat, but he's been working late these past few nights, she only feels him when he slides into bed past midnight. The change that Morgan once said Christmas brings is now evident all over Robert's movements. She's unsure what this now means, that he sleeps while she lies awake. Where she used to dream of marshmallow skies, she now fears that the magic in their connection is slowly fading away.
One night, Morgan comes home from school all pink cheeked and snowflake kissed. She whole heartedly shares Eskimo kisses with Giselle as they settle together on the couch. Their tradition of storytelling is alive and strong, although these days, Morgan does most of the telling.
"This is a holly and this is a poinsettia. People use them to decorate their houses when it's Christmastime." Tonight they're going through a picture book Morgan has brought home from class. Giselle glances around the apartment at the bare archways and end tables.
"This is mistletoe. Boys like to hang them up because then they can trap a girl under one and they have to kiss," Morgan says. Giselle smiles at her sour face.
"It's romantic for some people." And better than a poisoned apple, she thinks to herself.
"It's perfect for you and dad; like magic."
Giselle keeps this sentiment close, when she is later walking hand in hand with Robert through the park. It's cold and windy, but there's an excitement in her chest. Finally, a chance for her and Robert to spend some time together that won't end with sleepless nights and tired thoughts. He ties her laces tight and they head to the ice. Her steps are tentative but eager, the way she stumbles into every new thing of her life.
It's close, she thinks. The lights that twinkle on the surrounding branches give way to a lighter feeling she's been hoping for weeks. She spins, round and round, laughter escaping her easy smile. She grabs his hand and he tugs her forward. It's effortless but strong with meaning. He holds her close, his mouth breaths away from her ear. Closing her eyes, she takes in his nearness and it's just like that night on the dance floor.
she glides across marble
so close,
so far,
each touch is accidental
but filled with intention
and she knows she knows
he must too
we are,
so close,
(you'rebesidemehowfarwe'vecome)
yes, he must know it too.
Deep in the forest, between the trees and ice, it starts to snow. They touch her skin, melting at contact. She pretends to stand under mistletoe and leans up to kiss away the snowflake that falls on his dimple. In the distance, she thinks she hears an echo of a melody. He tightens his hold around her and the magic that is within their grasp dissipates in the cold.
He does not sing.
*
New York is draining in the wintertime. The life force of its citizens is focused on one sole event, leaving everything hectic and chaotic in its remains. The art of perfection is a constant worry as the concept of sensibility slips away.
Giselle seems to be drifting further away too. Sometimes he turns over at night and finds her awake and not touching him. He misses the tangle of arms and limbs, the heat and expression. He misses her skin on top his, her sigh against his mouth. There's an unheard symphony between them now, and he's unsure which instrument he needs to play to find her tune. Robert has never felt this much unease in his life before, including the stormy night he found himself in front of a dragon.
It's close to Christmas and Robert spends an afternoon at work. Sam, his secretary is less chatty than usual. Perhaps she senses the melancholy that stills his bones and runs his heart dry. More likely, perhaps she doesn't appreciate working during the holidays. When the clock strikes five, she strides into his office and starts packing his briefcase.
"You have no business being here any longer. You have a daughter and a girlfriend waiting for you at home. Don't you know this year is different than the last?"
"It sure doesn't feel that way," he says. Sam stills her movements and stares at him.
"Trust me, you will. It's the simplest thing and you'll know it when you feel it, you'll know it when it comes," she promises. "You'll know it in your heart."
Later that night, he turns in bed to find Giselle awake and looking at him. He can see her lashes furiously blinking back tears. He gently trails his finger down the curve of her mouth, wanting nothing more than to kiss her tears away. He holds back and instead asks her what's wrong.
"Morgan says it's supposed to be like magic, but I don't see the magic in anything," she says.
There's a sharp jab deep in his gut that comes in the moment his worst fears are realized. It's close, he thinks. She could be deciding she's had enough of this life and want her old one back. He's suddenly the one now blinking back tears and conjuring songs and sirens in his mind. She's waiting for him to say something, but he can only manage a meek response to reassure himself.
"You will," he promises.
*
It's Christmas Eve and they're all snowed in. Winter leaves a cold mess across the city, but inside the fire is low and warm. The hour is late and after much coaxing, Morgan is finally in bed. Robert walks through the dark hallway, still swept up in his thoughts that he nearly trips over himself when he stops short at the sight of Giselle asleep on the couch, under the blanket she's been dragging around all month.
The room is dark except for the Christmas tree lights and the glow from the fireplace that dance across her delicate features. She simple takes his breath away. He closes his eyes and takes in her beauty and it's just like that night on the dance floor.
he can't stop watching
every movement, a fit of grace
feeling alive,
so close,
we are,
and he wants he wants
(you'rebesidemehowfarwe'vecome)
her eyes shine
yes, she wants it too.
Robert finds himself by her side, the perfect sense of ease in his heart. He feels it now, whatever he was missing before. He feels it with every bone and all his conviction. When he leans forward and presses his lips against hers, it's filled with new promise and entrenched with new magic. When she opens her eyes, big and round, he says the only thing he can think of.
"You're beautiful."
It's a quick movement, but soon Giselle is lying on top of him as they settle across the couch. She buries her face in his chest and soaks up his warmth. Closing her eyes, she feels his heart beating beneath her cheek. She feels a light vibration shoot down her body and hears a faint hum, a tune to a melody she's been dreaming of for days.
She leans up and kisses him again, swallowing the vibrations of his humming. This time, there is no need for poisoned apples or imaginary mistletoe. Soon, they fall asleep, a mess of limbs and skin. In this moment, he is magic and promise, the symphony to her song.
She knows this now and he knows the same; together, they are a circle of eternity.
Fin.
Author: sugarpromises
Fandom: Enchanted (2007 movie)
Characters: Giselle, Robert
Rating: PG 13
Summary: New York is like this in the wintertime.
Author's Note: Written for Yuletide 2009. Spurned from the hopeful hollowness that is my heart. Thank you to lapiccolina for giving it the read over to reassure me it made sense.
New York is vibrant in the wintertime. As soon as the big parade is over, everybody puts up all the lights they can find. It's as though they need something to navigate them into the New Year. Giselle's not at all surprised; these days, nights are darker faster, she figures they need all the help they can get.
In the last week of November, Giselle thinks she can feel a change. She almost appreciates its subtleties and can even accept its consequence, but December knocks her right off her axis. She feels like she's crawled out from under that manhole again, like she has found herself in a brand new world.
These days, she especially notices the city in colour. Its hues are harsh and desperate, bright and demanding. They want a kind of energy she's not sure she's ready to give. She's not even sure she understands what exactly it is that's going on.
"Christmas," Morgan announces when red and green start to creep their way into window displays. "Christmas is coming up and people all change when they're waiting for Christmas to come."
"Change how?"
"I don't know, they just do."
Morgan says it's her favourite time of the year and relishes in the anticipation. There are already lists upon lists, letters to a man named Santa Claus detailing her behaviour in the past year. Giselle finds that odd since good is good and bad is bad, what need is there to list them?
Robert stews and dreads the aftermath. The rate of divorce seems to double every year after the holiday glow wears off, he tells her. People snap out of that dream and crash back into reality, there's so much to argue and clean up after. She doesn't understand what kind of glow a holiday can give you, but he just shakes his head and kisses her forehead before settling into sleep.
In the dark, now lying awake, Giselle remembers how she crashed out of her dream and into his reality. She wonders what's left of her to clean-up.
*
New York is dense in the wintertime. The people on the street seem to multiply by the dozen. It's hard to make it down the street for a quick lunch, let alone a quick stroll to visit a neighbour or friend. Robert stays in his office for most of his day. He avoids all his calls and just stares out the window.
They've settled into everyday life, he and Giselle. He thinks she's moved along quite nicely, adjusting to the norms of her new life. Dragons and spells are a thing of the past and actions are no longer accented by cadences and song. Yet, lately, he's been sensing a hesitation in her steps. Where she's been exuberant and hopeful, she's now careful and quiet. It's not an extreme difference, but one he notices nonetheless. The fantastical and reality hardly go hand in hand; perhaps she's waiting for something more.
It's times like these, he wishes for a dragon to slay.
One day she'll tire from all of this. As winter kicks in, he worries it's a matter of time before the steamy sewer of the city barrels through, New York will lose its appeal, and she'll wonder what she ever saw in this miserable city. When he stares out his window, he can almost picture a sunny day, a park full of caricatures, and a beautiful princess in blue capturing his heart.
He spends most of December wishing for summer, he forgets about remembering Christmas.
*
New York is bitterly cold in the winter time. Giselle finds herself dragging a fleece blanket with her as she moves through the apartment, unable to keep warm on her own. All she wants is to be surrounded by Robert's heat, but he's been working late these past few nights, she only feels him when he slides into bed past midnight. The change that Morgan once said Christmas brings is now evident all over Robert's movements. She's unsure what this now means, that he sleeps while she lies awake. Where she used to dream of marshmallow skies, she now fears that the magic in their connection is slowly fading away.
One night, Morgan comes home from school all pink cheeked and snowflake kissed. She whole heartedly shares Eskimo kisses with Giselle as they settle together on the couch. Their tradition of storytelling is alive and strong, although these days, Morgan does most of the telling.
"This is a holly and this is a poinsettia. People use them to decorate their houses when it's Christmastime." Tonight they're going through a picture book Morgan has brought home from class. Giselle glances around the apartment at the bare archways and end tables.
"This is mistletoe. Boys like to hang them up because then they can trap a girl under one and they have to kiss," Morgan says. Giselle smiles at her sour face.
"It's romantic for some people." And better than a poisoned apple, she thinks to herself.
"It's perfect for you and dad; like magic."
Giselle keeps this sentiment close, when she is later walking hand in hand with Robert through the park. It's cold and windy, but there's an excitement in her chest. Finally, a chance for her and Robert to spend some time together that won't end with sleepless nights and tired thoughts. He ties her laces tight and they head to the ice. Her steps are tentative but eager, the way she stumbles into every new thing of her life.
It's close, she thinks. The lights that twinkle on the surrounding branches give way to a lighter feeling she's been hoping for weeks. She spins, round and round, laughter escaping her easy smile. She grabs his hand and he tugs her forward. It's effortless but strong with meaning. He holds her close, his mouth breaths away from her ear. Closing her eyes, she takes in his nearness and it's just like that night on the dance floor.
she glides across marble
so close,
so far,
each touch is accidental
but filled with intention
and she knows she knows
he must too
we are,
so close,
(you'rebesidemehowfarwe'vecome)
yes, he must know it too.
Deep in the forest, between the trees and ice, it starts to snow. They touch her skin, melting at contact. She pretends to stand under mistletoe and leans up to kiss away the snowflake that falls on his dimple. In the distance, she thinks she hears an echo of a melody. He tightens his hold around her and the magic that is within their grasp dissipates in the cold.
He does not sing.
*
New York is draining in the wintertime. The life force of its citizens is focused on one sole event, leaving everything hectic and chaotic in its remains. The art of perfection is a constant worry as the concept of sensibility slips away.
Giselle seems to be drifting further away too. Sometimes he turns over at night and finds her awake and not touching him. He misses the tangle of arms and limbs, the heat and expression. He misses her skin on top his, her sigh against his mouth. There's an unheard symphony between them now, and he's unsure which instrument he needs to play to find her tune. Robert has never felt this much unease in his life before, including the stormy night he found himself in front of a dragon.
It's close to Christmas and Robert spends an afternoon at work. Sam, his secretary is less chatty than usual. Perhaps she senses the melancholy that stills his bones and runs his heart dry. More likely, perhaps she doesn't appreciate working during the holidays. When the clock strikes five, she strides into his office and starts packing his briefcase.
"You have no business being here any longer. You have a daughter and a girlfriend waiting for you at home. Don't you know this year is different than the last?"
"It sure doesn't feel that way," he says. Sam stills her movements and stares at him.
"Trust me, you will. It's the simplest thing and you'll know it when you feel it, you'll know it when it comes," she promises. "You'll know it in your heart."
Later that night, he turns in bed to find Giselle awake and looking at him. He can see her lashes furiously blinking back tears. He gently trails his finger down the curve of her mouth, wanting nothing more than to kiss her tears away. He holds back and instead asks her what's wrong.
"Morgan says it's supposed to be like magic, but I don't see the magic in anything," she says.
There's a sharp jab deep in his gut that comes in the moment his worst fears are realized. It's close, he thinks. She could be deciding she's had enough of this life and want her old one back. He's suddenly the one now blinking back tears and conjuring songs and sirens in his mind. She's waiting for him to say something, but he can only manage a meek response to reassure himself.
"You will," he promises.
*
It's Christmas Eve and they're all snowed in. Winter leaves a cold mess across the city, but inside the fire is low and warm. The hour is late and after much coaxing, Morgan is finally in bed. Robert walks through the dark hallway, still swept up in his thoughts that he nearly trips over himself when he stops short at the sight of Giselle asleep on the couch, under the blanket she's been dragging around all month.
The room is dark except for the Christmas tree lights and the glow from the fireplace that dance across her delicate features. She simple takes his breath away. He closes his eyes and takes in her beauty and it's just like that night on the dance floor.
he can't stop watching
every movement, a fit of grace
feeling alive,
so close,
we are,
and he wants he wants
(you'rebesidemehowfarwe'vecome)
her eyes shine
yes, she wants it too.
Robert finds himself by her side, the perfect sense of ease in his heart. He feels it now, whatever he was missing before. He feels it with every bone and all his conviction. When he leans forward and presses his lips against hers, it's filled with new promise and entrenched with new magic. When she opens her eyes, big and round, he says the only thing he can think of.
"You're beautiful."
It's a quick movement, but soon Giselle is lying on top of him as they settle across the couch. She buries her face in his chest and soaks up his warmth. Closing her eyes, she feels his heart beating beneath her cheek. She feels a light vibration shoot down her body and hears a faint hum, a tune to a melody she's been dreaming of for days.
She leans up and kisses him again, swallowing the vibrations of his humming. This time, there is no need for poisoned apples or imaginary mistletoe. Soon, they fall asleep, a mess of limbs and skin. In this moment, he is magic and promise, the symphony to her song.
She knows this now and he knows the same; together, they are a circle of eternity.
Fin.