[drabble] If You Haven't Got A Ha'Penny (God Bless You)
Title: If You Haven't Got A Ha'Penny (God Bless You)
Author: garnetice
Pairing: Kendall/James
Rating: K
Word Count: I have no idea (I MISS MICROSOFT WORD)
Warnings: None. Well, Christian traditions, if you're not down with that, but
Summary: "Aren't you worried you're going to get pine needles in your eyes?"
Disclaimer: BTR is not mine.
Author Notes: I wrote a Christmas drabble. After Christmas. SHUT UP, IT'S STILL EPIPHANY, OKAY? Um. Yeah, so the note for this is longer than the actual drabble. That is because this is an excerpt from a specific verse you guys haven't seen yet. A loooong time ago, I decided I wanted domestic kames- post BTR- where Kendall worked as a barista while he tried to get through school minus the hockey scholarship he always expected (for whatever reason, his BTR money is either wiped out or untouchable) and he shares an apartment with James, who is trying to make it big, and on their free days they surf and busk for cash and walk their puppy. And eventually there would be feelings, because I don't do established couples. Much more recently, I told Twitter I would write domestic Dak/Logan (blame Becky), where Logan proves that he might be a geek, but he is also a hockey player and a pain in the ass. And sometimes they have dinner parties with James and Kendall, who live near by. OH SEE WHAT I DID THERE? Yeah, so both stories are happening. This is officially a side story to that general verse. Title is from Soul Cake by Sting, which is one of my favoooorite Christmas songs.
---
James's arrival is heralded by squeaky hinges and the distant thunder of waves.
Kendall doesn't get up. He listens to James set down his guitar case with a muffled thud, his keys jingling as they fall into the bowl by the door. He listens as James kicks off his boots and then pads around the kitchen, rustling bags and shutting cabinets with his familiar, unhurried pace. There is the stick in the bottom fridge drawer and the scrape of Chinese containers hitting linoleum; a shap exhalation when one smells too foul. Kendall hears his name, followed by a curse, and then the bad container hitting the garbage can.
Kendall grins. Oops. He's getting better at this domestic crap; he is. At least he remembers to check the expiration date on the milk, now.
The microwave bangs open and closed, followed by the jab of buttons. James is probably going to overcook the leftovers. He always does. Kendall thinks about going to help. He decides he's comfortable exactly where he is. He breathes deep; pine needles and something musty and old.
Optimus figures out that Daddy's home and bounds over Kendall's feet. His puppy-paws are soft on Kendall's ankles; his puppy claws less so. They scrabble against the kitchen tile when he says hi to James, tail a steady thump against everything he passes.
"Hey, buddy," James exclaims, falling to his knees because he is a soft hearted sap. "Who's the best little boy in the whole wide world? Who's my baby? You are," he coos, and Kendall can hear the slurp that means Optimus has decided James needs a bath. The James that Kendall knew in high school would flip; he'd whip out his full skincare regimen of cleansers and moisturizers and toners and who-knows-what-ers, desperate to wipe the saliva off his face. James now laughs, accepting all the puppy love with grace.
At least until Optimus Prime decides that his newest squeaky toy is way more interesting than James; then he discretely stands and splashes water on his face. Some things never change.
Finally, Kendall hears the whisper of feet over the carpet as James comes into the living room. There is silence, and then James nudges Kendall's leg with his foot. "It's dark in here. What are you doing?"
"I like the view," Kendall explains happily. He can almost hear James roll his eyes, but a few seconds later, James is on the ground, sticking his head beneath the Christmas tree too.
"Aren't you worried you're going to get pine needles in your eyes?"
Kendall snorts, turning his head so that he can see; James's face lit by the red-blue-yellow-green of thier lights, a big silver ornament dangling right over his nose. "You have the weirdest imagination."
"I'm not the one laying underneath our Christmas tree."
Kendall looks back up; he can see straight through the branches, strands of lights and too many ornaments and the skirt of the angel at the tippy top. "It's pretty. How much did you make today?"
"A small fortune. Dude, Santa Claus Is Coming To Town is a crowd pleaser."
"People like Springsteen."
"...and Justin Bieber."
Kendall makes a face. "Him too. Does that mean I'm getting a super awesome present this year?"
"Uh. About that..."
"You donated it all to the Salvation Army again, didn't you?"
"They're collecting for the children, okay? I can't just let the children suffer," James replies defensively.
"Hey, no. It's sweet." He can't help the chuckle that punctuates his words. Buying James a puppy was obviously a gateway drug. He's getting more charitable and freaky kind with every passing day. He's not exactly ready to cope with a real live kid, but giving away a day's pay for the second time this month when they haven't exactly got a lot of cash to begin with is probably one of the nicest things James has ever done.
He's going to hate himself come New Year's, when he's too broke to buy champagne.
Kendall should be mad, but all he can muster is a weird kind of pride. James Diamond, becoming a better person. Who would have thought?
"You smell like a cappuccino," James says, bumping Kendall with his shoulder. The silver ornament spins from all the movement, throwing a cascade of primary colors in every direction. When Kendall turns to look, he's dizzy with it; with James painted in holiday cheer.
He is a very, very beautiful man.
Kendall can taste James's breath on his lips; spearmint gum and a California sunset. It would be so easy to just do...something. Instead he hums, "It's my new cologne."
"Funny."
"I'm here every night." Kendall shrugs, knocking into a dangling glass green...thing. He's not really sure what it's supposed to be, except that Katie gave it to him when she was in the second grade. The microwave goes off. "Dinner's ready."
James doesn't get up. His chest rises and falls, and Kendall can almost hear him thinking. Then he shifts into Kendall's side and demands, "Tell me the stories again. About all the ornaments?"
"Some of them are yours." Kendall points out.
Like he's jealous, Optimus Prime leaps in between them, a warm little space heater snuggled in the nest of their arms. James makes funny faces and talks baby talk to the retriever, petting his ears and telling him that he's a good, good boy. Kendall pets the puppy's spine and tries not to feel like he's just been cockblocked by his own dog.
Over Optimus's head, James gives Kendall his serious business face and says, "You know which ones I mean."
Kendall sighs. "Don't you want to get your food?"
"It'll keep." James smiles and reaches across to ruffle Kendall's hair, like maybe he's the pet that James and Optimus keep around. He makes an indignant noise, but mostly he just feels warm. Kendall points to an ornament about a foot above James's shoulder and starts talking about how his great grandfather brought it back from France after World War II. And then he keeps talking, all the way up the tree, to his mom's high school art class project (a nativity) and their own third grade crafts (a snowflake and a framed picture of the two of them, Carlos, and Logan). The evening stretches on, and Optimus begins to snore, and James shifts his head onto Kendall's shoulder. When Kendall pauses, he says, "Keep going."
Kendall does. It's not like he has anything better to do; it's Christmas Eve. They've got no cash, no family in the area, and no plans for the future. Tomorrow will be a complete blank slate, just like the next day, and the day after that, stretching endlessly off into the future. Sitting underneath the tree with James, recounting his family's history in a hush, like maybe it's a Christmas story in and of itself? Kendall can't think of any place he'd rather be.
---
Author: garnetice
Pairing: Kendall/James
Rating: K
Word Count: I have no idea (I MISS MICROSOFT WORD)
Warnings: None. Well, Christian traditions, if you're not down with that, but
Summary: "Aren't you worried you're going to get pine needles in your eyes?"
Disclaimer: BTR is not mine.
Author Notes: I wrote a Christmas drabble. After Christmas. SHUT UP, IT'S STILL EPIPHANY, OKAY? Um. Yeah, so the note for this is longer than the actual drabble. That is because this is an excerpt from a specific verse you guys haven't seen yet. A loooong time ago, I decided I wanted domestic kames- post BTR- where Kendall worked as a barista while he tried to get through school minus the hockey scholarship he always expected (for whatever reason, his BTR money is either wiped out or untouchable) and he shares an apartment with James, who is trying to make it big, and on their free days they surf and busk for cash and walk their puppy. And eventually there would be feelings, because I don't do established couples. Much more recently, I told Twitter I would write domestic Dak/Logan (blame Becky), where Logan proves that he might be a geek, but he is also a hockey player and a pain in the ass. And sometimes they have dinner parties with James and Kendall, who live near by. OH SEE WHAT I DID THERE? Yeah, so both stories are happening. This is officially a side story to that general verse. Title is from Soul Cake by Sting, which is one of my favoooorite Christmas songs.
---
James's arrival is heralded by squeaky hinges and the distant thunder of waves.
Kendall doesn't get up. He listens to James set down his guitar case with a muffled thud, his keys jingling as they fall into the bowl by the door. He listens as James kicks off his boots and then pads around the kitchen, rustling bags and shutting cabinets with his familiar, unhurried pace. There is the stick in the bottom fridge drawer and the scrape of Chinese containers hitting linoleum; a shap exhalation when one smells too foul. Kendall hears his name, followed by a curse, and then the bad container hitting the garbage can.
Kendall grins. Oops. He's getting better at this domestic crap; he is. At least he remembers to check the expiration date on the milk, now.
The microwave bangs open and closed, followed by the jab of buttons. James is probably going to overcook the leftovers. He always does. Kendall thinks about going to help. He decides he's comfortable exactly where he is. He breathes deep; pine needles and something musty and old.
Optimus figures out that Daddy's home and bounds over Kendall's feet. His puppy-paws are soft on Kendall's ankles; his puppy claws less so. They scrabble against the kitchen tile when he says hi to James, tail a steady thump against everything he passes.
"Hey, buddy," James exclaims, falling to his knees because he is a soft hearted sap. "Who's the best little boy in the whole wide world? Who's my baby? You are," he coos, and Kendall can hear the slurp that means Optimus has decided James needs a bath. The James that Kendall knew in high school would flip; he'd whip out his full skincare regimen of cleansers and moisturizers and toners and who-knows-what-ers, desperate to wipe the saliva off his face. James now laughs, accepting all the puppy love with grace.
At least until Optimus Prime decides that his newest squeaky toy is way more interesting than James; then he discretely stands and splashes water on his face. Some things never change.
Finally, Kendall hears the whisper of feet over the carpet as James comes into the living room. There is silence, and then James nudges Kendall's leg with his foot. "It's dark in here. What are you doing?"
"I like the view," Kendall explains happily. He can almost hear James roll his eyes, but a few seconds later, James is on the ground, sticking his head beneath the Christmas tree too.
"Aren't you worried you're going to get pine needles in your eyes?"
Kendall snorts, turning his head so that he can see; James's face lit by the red-blue-yellow-green of thier lights, a big silver ornament dangling right over his nose. "You have the weirdest imagination."
"I'm not the one laying underneath our Christmas tree."
Kendall looks back up; he can see straight through the branches, strands of lights and too many ornaments and the skirt of the angel at the tippy top. "It's pretty. How much did you make today?"
"A small fortune. Dude, Santa Claus Is Coming To Town is a crowd pleaser."
"People like Springsteen."
"...and Justin Bieber."
Kendall makes a face. "Him too. Does that mean I'm getting a super awesome present this year?"
"Uh. About that..."
"You donated it all to the Salvation Army again, didn't you?"
"They're collecting for the children, okay? I can't just let the children suffer," James replies defensively.
"Hey, no. It's sweet." He can't help the chuckle that punctuates his words. Buying James a puppy was obviously a gateway drug. He's getting more charitable and freaky kind with every passing day. He's not exactly ready to cope with a real live kid, but giving away a day's pay for the second time this month when they haven't exactly got a lot of cash to begin with is probably one of the nicest things James has ever done.
He's going to hate himself come New Year's, when he's too broke to buy champagne.
Kendall should be mad, but all he can muster is a weird kind of pride. James Diamond, becoming a better person. Who would have thought?
"You smell like a cappuccino," James says, bumping Kendall with his shoulder. The silver ornament spins from all the movement, throwing a cascade of primary colors in every direction. When Kendall turns to look, he's dizzy with it; with James painted in holiday cheer.
He is a very, very beautiful man.
Kendall can taste James's breath on his lips; spearmint gum and a California sunset. It would be so easy to just do...something. Instead he hums, "It's my new cologne."
"Funny."
"I'm here every night." Kendall shrugs, knocking into a dangling glass green...thing. He's not really sure what it's supposed to be, except that Katie gave it to him when she was in the second grade. The microwave goes off. "Dinner's ready."
James doesn't get up. His chest rises and falls, and Kendall can almost hear him thinking. Then he shifts into Kendall's side and demands, "Tell me the stories again. About all the ornaments?"
"Some of them are yours." Kendall points out.
Like he's jealous, Optimus Prime leaps in between them, a warm little space heater snuggled in the nest of their arms. James makes funny faces and talks baby talk to the retriever, petting his ears and telling him that he's a good, good boy. Kendall pets the puppy's spine and tries not to feel like he's just been cockblocked by his own dog.
Over Optimus's head, James gives Kendall his serious business face and says, "You know which ones I mean."
Kendall sighs. "Don't you want to get your food?"
"It'll keep." James smiles and reaches across to ruffle Kendall's hair, like maybe he's the pet that James and Optimus keep around. He makes an indignant noise, but mostly he just feels warm. Kendall points to an ornament about a foot above James's shoulder and starts talking about how his great grandfather brought it back from France after World War II. And then he keeps talking, all the way up the tree, to his mom's high school art class project (a nativity) and their own third grade crafts (a snowflake and a framed picture of the two of them, Carlos, and Logan). The evening stretches on, and Optimus begins to snore, and James shifts his head onto Kendall's shoulder. When Kendall pauses, he says, "Keep going."
Kendall does. It's not like he has anything better to do; it's Christmas Eve. They've got no cash, no family in the area, and no plans for the future. Tomorrow will be a complete blank slate, just like the next day, and the day after that, stretching endlessly off into the future. Sitting underneath the tree with James, recounting his family's history in a hush, like maybe it's a Christmas story in and of itself? Kendall can't think of any place he'd rather be.
---