A/N: Again, this is SLASH, and it hasn't been beta-read. This is a drabble, exactly 250 words. Merry Christmahannukwanzukah to you!
Dallas Winston stood staring out the window at the falling snow. The snowfall was the first of the season, pure, full of possibilities.
At least, that's what Johnny would say. That's what he had said about the tree that now sat bare in the corner of their tiny living room. They would tend to it and decorate it; it would grow, just like their relationship, he said. Dally had just given him a wry smile. 'My Johnny's getting more feminine by the day,' he had thought.
But now his Johnny lie sick in the bed they shared, unable to do much of anything. He insisted that he'd be well enough soon, well enough to help Dallas with the tree. And Dallas didn't want to ruin his spirit. He didn't want to tell him that the doctor had called earlier with his test results. He didn't want to tell him about the cancer growing in his lungs.
He had fought the landlord right before they moved in, insisting they were only roommates. He had fought with the gang, insisting their love was only natural. He had even fought the hot tears that had come after the doctor's call, insisting Johnny was going to make it.
And he was. Dallas didn't care what it cost him, the treatment. If it was himself, that might be another story. But this was Johnny. And Johnny was going to get better.
Dallas sighed and wrenched the curtains shut. He needed to water that damned tree.
