Written for a tumblr prompt list: "You still have your Christmas lights up? It's February! Get your life together!"
Rhys, working less crazy hours than Gwen, took charge of holiday decorations. It was their first Christmas as a married couple, and he wanted it to be special. There was always the chance that Gwen would skip it—last Christmas, she'd brought home a socially awkward cousin, who'd then seen Rhys naked.
It then turned out that the cousin was actually a time traveler and that the visit was Torchwood business.
Looking back now, it wasn't even the craziest thing Rhys had interacted with in the flat. There was the time Gwen told him about aliens. Or when one of them followed her home and asked for lasagne because it had overheard them talking on the phone about dinner. Or when one bit Gwen and made her pregnant. Or when Rhys answered a telemarketer right at the moment Torchwood broke into the office they were calling from—he'd heard the alien takedown over the phone and was more impressed with Gwen than ever.
Now that they were married, Rhys was less desperate for normalcy. Having your whole wedding party retconned—not to mention one of the groomsmen being eaten—really put life in perspective.
But they were doing Christmas. At least dinner. At least a tree.
Gwen had a blessed day off and they went to get it. She was even present for the first half-hour of decoration—lights and tinsel and even some baubles. Rhys finished by himself, humming along to holiday music on the radio, and Gwen came home tired but happy to see the lights on the windowsills.
Rhys sent a picture of them to his parents, who were still hounding him about the amount of alcohol at the wedding. He was proud of them.
Christmas passed, blessedly parent-free, and although Gwen had to run out to wrangle a Weevil, the holiday was otherwise uninterrupted. Rhys made a traditional dinner and exercised creativity on dessert, miraculously succeeding at homemade ice-cream; they cuddled in the living room while It's a Wonderful Life played in the background; they retired to their bed well after midnight for a thoroughly festive celebration.
Boxing Day dawned.
So did the New Year.
Gwen ran back to Torchwood and Rhys continued his managerial duties. Snow fell down hard on Cardiff and Gwen went though several pairs of boots trudging through sludge and uncleared alleys. Rhys rerouted lorries and came up with a new jingle for Harwood Haulage.
The holidays were over. Life returned to normal.
Weeks passed. Outside the window, the sky got greyer and duller; the sun set too early and the heating never kicked in when it needed to. Rhys slept in the pink fuzzy socks Gwen bought as a gag gift several Valentine's Days ago, putting his foot down when she demanded he share them.
But he stopped at the store on the way back from work and picked up a pair for Gwen, this one smaller and decorated in magenta hearts around the top edge. They matched the new lingerie set Gwen had bought for the approaching holiday—Rhys was no secret agent, but Gwen was awful at hiding surprises.
He bought flowers and chocolates and the spatula Gwen had been eyeing but always said was too expensive to actually get.
The flowers would go into a colored vase. It was one of the few wedding gifts that hadn't been crushed by the Nostrovite, and one of the few from Gwen's mum that wasn't ugly as shit. Rhys didn't want to drag his mother-in-law into a Valentine's celebration, but Gwen liked the vase, and Rhys would do anything for her. Even accept Mary Cooper as family. Even wave hello to their Mrs. James, their nosy, nosy, nosy neighbor, who had once tried to find their spare key by searching under the doormat, in order to preserve the peace.
She was holding cookies, this time, the perfect way to talk to neighbors—it was a conversation starter and a way into the flat itself if she was pushy enough—but Rhys was well-trained.
He shot her a quick hello and got to quick work getting his key in the lock. Two seconds, and he would be in.
Two seconds, and Mrs. James only needed one to take a peek inside before the door shut.
Rhys leaned against it and let out a sigh.
"You still have your Christmas lights up?" Mrs. James's shrill voice asked from behind the door. Rhys leaned over to cover the peephole with the back of his head. He didn't know if she could see inside now, but it was better to be safe than sorry. "It's February!"
Rhys knew it was February, thank you very much.
He just hadn't gotten to it yet.
And the lights were ambient, damn it.
"Get your life together!" Mrs. James trilled triumphantly.
Rhys had no doubt that her knitting circle would know all about this by the end of the day—he would be lucky if that was how long it took for the news to spread, and hoped that Gwen wouldn't be met with judgmental stares on her way into the building. Just on her way out the next day.
That was about as much as you could win with Mrs. James.
Still—Rhys titled his head and looked at the lights lining the windows and counters—it looked nice. Ambient. Atmospheric. Pretty. The lights had come with a remote control, well worth the extra money, and now twinkled a pretty pink.
It was pretty seasonal, as far as things went. Flowers, chocolate, mood lighting…
Yeah. Rhys grinned and forgot all about Mrs. James. This would be a great Valentine's Day.
Thanks for reading! :D
