'John'. Just 'John.' (
prodigalflame) wrote2014-12-25 08:32 am
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[For Bobby] Christmas Morning
John had woken early in his own bed, alone, and found that this whole 'sleeping together once or twice in the past week' thing was getting to be annoyingly habit-forming. Alone was starting to feel...odd.
Still, he made them a pot of coffee, leaving a mug out on the counter for Bobby, and took his own to settle on the couch with his thoughts and look out at the wintry landscape, little more than some paving and a few dreary shrubs and bushes, windows edged with frost.
The fire was warm, so he let his robe fall open, and simply cradled the mug in his hands. Underneath the tree he'd left a present in matte silver wrapping paper with a snowflake design and a small gift card with Bobby's name on it. Inside was a copy of Math Jokes 4 Mathy Folks, although that wasn't the real gift. The real gift was the Sinatra app John had bought and sneakily installed on Bobby's phone after his boyfriend - god, boyfriend - had gone to bed that evening.
Tucked up inside the book was another present, although John wasn't entirely sure of the impulse that led him to place it in the front cover. It was an old photo, taken on the grounds of the Xavier Institute, with two teenage boys sitting on one of those benches they had dotted around. Bobby was leaning forward, smiling at the camera, either looking happy or clever enough to fake it; and John was sitting next to him, but at a distance, leaning back with arms stretched out along the back of the bench, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, and looking anywhere but the camera, a picture in studied, deliberate angry-cool. It had been taken a couple of months after Rogue had arrived at the Mansion and everything had changed, but to John it was still a worthy memory, at least some of the time.
Still, he made them a pot of coffee, leaving a mug out on the counter for Bobby, and took his own to settle on the couch with his thoughts and look out at the wintry landscape, little more than some paving and a few dreary shrubs and bushes, windows edged with frost.
The fire was warm, so he let his robe fall open, and simply cradled the mug in his hands. Underneath the tree he'd left a present in matte silver wrapping paper with a snowflake design and a small gift card with Bobby's name on it. Inside was a copy of Math Jokes 4 Mathy Folks, although that wasn't the real gift. The real gift was the Sinatra app John had bought and sneakily installed on Bobby's phone after his boyfriend - god, boyfriend - had gone to bed that evening.
Tucked up inside the book was another present, although John wasn't entirely sure of the impulse that led him to place it in the front cover. It was an old photo, taken on the grounds of the Xavier Institute, with two teenage boys sitting on one of those benches they had dotted around. Bobby was leaning forward, smiling at the camera, either looking happy or clever enough to fake it; and John was sitting next to him, but at a distance, leaning back with arms stretched out along the back of the bench, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, and looking anywhere but the camera, a picture in studied, deliberate angry-cool. It had been taken a couple of months after Rogue had arrived at the Mansion and everything had changed, but to John it was still a worthy memory, at least some of the time.
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He sighed and stretched, grabbing his robe and slipping the small red-foil wrapped box with the gold ribbons (clearly a professional wrapping job) out of his drawer and into the pocket. Then he headed downstairs, poured himself a cup of coffee, and went to find John. When he did, he smiled and went to join him on the couch, nestling against him and taking a sip of coffee. "Morning. Merry Christmas," he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to John's lips.
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Although if Drake kept looking so darn edible that was going to be very hard.
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Dragging his eyes away from that present, John stood up and pushed his chair back to go and retrieve the (clumsily wrapped) present that lay under the tree for Bobby, and placed it on the table. "There you go, handsome." The app on Bobby's phone - well, if he hadn't found it yet, John was happy to drag that secret on a little longer, if only to emphasise the eventual reveal.
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Setting the gift on his lap, he unwrapped the paper, and - the world stopped. It was a Zippo box, an actual bona fide, copyrighted, branded, marked, what the fuck ever, official, Zippo lighter box. Glancing up at Bobby, he managed a croaky "I don't know what to say." He already had a lighter though, so he was a little puzzled as well, after the first wave of emotion swept over him, giving Bobby a raised eyebrow and a bit of a shrug. Opening up the box, he just inhaled softly when he saw the decoration on the front of the lighter, knowing his mouth had fallen open. "It's beautiful," he admitted, picking it out of the case with fingers that somehow felt a bit thick and inadequate to the task.
"Thank you." John was John, though, so: "Next year you can get me a flame thrower." Not that he technically needed one - but it would save time if they came up against anything big.
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He'd still been nervous about it, though, and he relaxed against the couch with relief as he added, "I'm glad you like it." The flamethrower comment did not dignify a response, especially not just then. He had a feeling he'd get used to just ignoring John's little comments, his way of deflecting, of trying to mask certain emotions.
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He turned the lighter around in his hands, tossed it with his right hand, and caught it in his palm before flicking it open, a smooth, practiced movement. Didn't feel any heavier than his existing lighter: and this was definitely more than just for Sunday best. "I'll carry it wherever I go," he promised, and found a pocket in his robe to pop it into. "Speaking of mementos," John murmured, before sipping on his coffee, "check your phone."
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"What am I looking for?" he asked, scooting over to lean against John as he first checked to see if there was a text message waiting before starting to flip through the screens--and stopping as soon as he went to the next screen. "Whoa, what's this?" He looked up at John and flashed a grin before turning his attention back to the new app on his phone. "How did you know about this? How did I not know about this?" he asked, grinning wider as he started to explore the Sinatra app.
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Fortunately his boyfriend scarpered off, and then came back and snuggled up against him - John didn't even have to provide any commentary or clues because Bobby had found the other gift (as opposed to the other other gift, secreted away in the book). "And I know about this because someone introduced me to old fogey music and I have a certain appreciation for it, so I keep my eye out for things. You did not know about it because you've been too busy giving me hickies, I'm sure." John mused, hand reaching behind to absently toy with the hair on the nape of Bobby's neck, pleased just to see him enjoy the gift.
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It still seemed odd to him, that he had to explain things, that Bobby couldn't take one look at him and just know and be entirely sure. "'Works just fine' isn't sufficient when there's you involved," he murmured, his voice low, a soft rumble, as he nuzzled into Bobby's hair.
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