Title: Christmas Morning in Increments of Five
Pairing: RrB/PpG
Rating: PG-13 for language and implied booty call
Parts: Two of Three
Disclaimer: Love 'em, don't own 'em.
Summary: Alternate title might be "How to Have the Best Christmas Ever."
Notes: Ridiculously fluffy. I hope you enjoy your Christmas morning extra sweet, because you'll probably need the insulin tomorrow. My holiday fic back from 2008. It's even fluffier than I remembered. Un-beta'd.
Christmas Morning in Increments of Five
-sbj-
At Age Fifteen
It's early Christmas morning, and he's kicking himself in the head for running late. Boomer's not a morning person, and even though he tried, really really tried, to the point where he chugged like five gallons of water before going to bed and just wound up waking every hour instead of really early like he'd originally intended, today is proving to be no exception.
He hugs the box to his chest, shielding it in his jacket from the wind—he doesn't have much talent for wrapping things either, but he worked really hard on this one, bow and all, and besides that it better make it there in one piece because he's had a real "fun" time trying to keep it hidden from his brothers. Not just the package, but the reasons for giving it.
Her family's already up and bustling around when he peeks in the living room window—shoot, so much for adding it to the pile underneath the tree. Maybe he could sneak it up to their room, hide it in her stuffed animals or something... hopefully she's got a pile of them; he imagines she's the type of girl who'd have a stuffed animal corner for the rest of her life.
He darts up to the second floor and freezes. She reacts in kind.
It takes a second for the two of them to register the scene, but eventually Boomer puts it all together—Bubbles all bundled up, one hand on the open window as she's halfway outside, the meticulously wrapped gift under her arm with a very distinct tag signed in her loopy handwriting, To Boomer, From Bubbles.
He blinks and looks at her. Her own eyes dart to the gift in his hands, and it hits him.
"Oh... Merry Christmas," he says lamely, holding his gift out stiffly to her.
She pauses before reaching for it, gingerly lifting it out of his hands and replacing it with her own. "Um... yeah," she says quietly, the surprise in her gaze softening into something he can't quite describe until she looks at him and smiles. Funny how a look like that feels like a sucker punch to the gut.
"Same to you," she says, knocking the wind out of him again for good measure, and yet, despite all this suffering, he can still safely say this is undoubtedly the best Christmas he's ever had.
-fin-