Disclaimer: I do not own Super Smash Brothers: Brawl or any of the characters, and this piece of fanfiction is for the sole purpose of entertainment.
Dedication: To SSBBSwords/LilPurplFlwr. Thank you for being my best friend and Merry Christmas! When I am less painfully broke, I will get you a proper Christmas gift; I promise.
Pairing: IkeMarth
Genre: romance
Part: 1/12
Rating: G (subject to change)
Words: 935
Warnings: AU, homosexuality, unabashed fluff, un-beta'd
A/N: Because I was listening to "The Twelve Days of Christmas" song and I thought to myself: "Gee, wouldn't it be a cute idea to write a Christmas-themed fic referencing the song and post each section during the twelve days leading up to Christmas?" And yes, I do know that the twelve days of Christmas actually begin on Christmas day, but I'm not Christian and this is how I want to spend my December (apparently).
Marth's Twelve Days of Christmas
Part 1: A Partridge in a Pear Tree
Marth was never one for Christmas.
Growing up, Christmas was a purely commercial celebration in his household. They did the gift exchange, but that was about the end of the level of their festivities. The only decoration they had was a sorry-looking artificial Christmas tree with some haphazard ornaments thrown on and no lights. They didn't do the stockings, didn't play the holiday carols, didn't throw parties. It wasn't so much that his family hated Christmas or anything like that; they just never loved it. Christmas was just an obligatory celebration for the elder Lowells, what with two children expecting presents (but not from Santa Claus, since they didn't believe in him).
So when Marth moved out into his first apartment, he didn't feel the pressing need to buy a tree (artificial or real) or decorate his home come December. He just couldn't be bothered with the hassle of spending time to decorate for a single month before having to strip it all down again when the "holiday season" had passed. Besides, he would rather save his expendable income for the future instead of squandering it on trinkets. Not that he was a miser, or anything—he got his friends Christmas gifts, of course. But he was in no rush to host the holiday party of the year or anything like that.
That was until he met Ike.
See, Ike was one of those people who adored Christmas. In fact, Marth was fairly positive that his spouse loved Christmas more than he loved him.
Ike was the type to start playing Christmas music right after Halloween, completely ignoring the holiday in between (not that Marth really celebrated Thanksgiving either, but still). By November 1st, Marth could guarantee that their apartment was halfway covered in all that is red, green, gold, and sparkly. Come mid-November, Ike was forcibly dragging him out to the nearest Christmas tree farm to select their own real tree because artificial would never pass for a Christmas purist such as Ike. By the time the tree was properly prepped and dressed (usually the next day with Ike's fervor), they were posing for their annual Christmas cards with their equally-Christmas-loving golden retriever. Guaranteed by the end of Novemember, Marth was already sick of vacuuming up all the needles from the damnable (albeit pleasantly fragrant) tree. And at the start of December, they were sending out the invitations to their annual holiday bash featuring the aforementioned Christmas photo.
After three years of dating and five years of marriage, Marth had resigned himself to the obligatory Christmas routine that was a condition of loving a man such as Ike. Initially, Marth found himself resenting Christmas for all the trouble it brought; but as the years went on, he slowly developed a fondness for the hectic holiday. He would be lying to himself if he insisted it was born from anything but seeing the joy on Ike's face whenever they put together a freshly-baked gingerbread house or hung the wreath on their front door.
Currently, they were on the tree-decorating stage of the cycle. Marth had just finished vacuuming the trail of pine needles leading from the front door to their living room (because someone had to do the cleaning around here). Ike was crouched in front of a series of storage boxes full of ornaments, searching intently for something. "Marth," he piped up after the vacuum had shut off, "can you help me?"
"With what?" Marth finished tucking the vacuum back in the closet and made his way over to the tree.
"The partridge!" Ike yelped in exasperation, throwing off the lid to a second box as if he held a personal vendetta against it. "I can't find it anywhere, and I swear I put it in here…"
As Ike trailed off mumbling, Marth changed direction and moved back to the storage closet. He knew the decoration well; it was the same tree topper that Ike used, time after time, no matter what color scheme they were going for that particular year. It was a modest ornament: a simple faux partridge set upon a bed of leaves with a single, blush-tinted green pear to its side. It was something of a family heirloom, passed down to Ike from his parents after he moved out. He grew up seeing the partridge at the top of every Christmas tree, and he once told Marth that Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without the bird's blessing.
"Hey… where are you going?" came Ike's confused voice behind him.
"Hold on."
Because it was so special to Ike (and he knew his husband's propensity to forget things), Marth had stored the partridge topper in its own special box to prevent damage and misplacement. Using the step stool, he grabbed it off the top shelf in their storage and returned to Ike's side, opening the lid to reveal the so-called missing bird.
"There we go!" Ike exclaimed as he grabbed the box, lifting out the ornament before excitedly affixing it to the otherwise empty tree. This was another one of Ike's quirks: the topper always went on first before anything else.
Marth chuckled and shook his head. "You know you always knock it out of place whenever you string up the lights."
Ike turned around and gave him pointed look. "Yeah, but I have to put the partridge up first—"
"I know, I know," Marth interrupted with a roll of his eyes but a smile playing across his lips. "We need its blessing."
Ike merely grinned toothily at him before grabbing Marth's smaller hand in his own. "Damn right we do."
-tbc-