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It was cold in the apartment, but the heater didn't kick on. They hadn't paid the bill for so long that the gas got shut off altogether. It wasn't that big of a deal since it didn't get too cold in LA. Nothing like the Midwest, at least. Pickles was stretched out over the bed on his stomach, wearing the sweater Tony had taken off when Pickles complained of the cold. His bare toes were wedged under Tony's thigh for warmth.
"All this shit about families an' goin' home for Christmas and shit is totally lame," Pickles said, scraping the remnants of spaghetti in his bowl into one last forkful. "Why the hell're we even watching this?"
"I'm not," Tony said, pick plucking away at the Jingle Bells melody on an unplugged bass. "Turn that shit off, I'll tell you a real Christmas story."
Pickles didn't turn it off, but he set his empty bowl on the floor, and rolled over onto his side, leaning up on an elbow. "Okay, let's hear it."
"Hey, don't rush me, man," Tony told him, chuckling. He grabbed the bottle of cheap bourbon from where it was half-buried in the sheets and took a good swig before passing it off to Pickles.
"Dashing through the snow," Tony started to half-sing, playing along on his bass. "In a tour bus filled with zazz. Uhh... drinking lots of booze, sitting on our ass."
Pickles laughed into the bottle as he took a drink of it, then wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Asses?"
"Yeah, whatever. We'll play lots more shows... the crowd will yell our names... uhm, la la la la la. La la la la la, hey! Snakes N' Barrels, Snakes N' Barrels, Snakes N' Barrels kicks ass! Oh what fun it is to go to a Snakes N' Barrels show!"
Pickles' chest shook with laughter, and he shifted to lazily sprawl partially over Tony's legs. "Dude, leave the lyrics t'me, okay?"
"Nah, man, fuck you," Tony told him with a grin. "That's gonna be our life next Christmas. Just like the song."
Pickles relaxed, letting his chin rest on Tony's knee. "It's already true, dude. We already kick ass."
"Well, uh, you know, the shit about the tour bus and shit."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Pickles grabbed the bourbon and took another shot from the bottle, then handed it to Tony, who took twice as much before capping it. He continued playing, then, playing something more serious than shitty Christmas tunes.
Pickles hated Christmas shit. But maybe it wasn't so bad with Tony.
He closed his eyes, listening to Tony play. Maybe Christmas didn't have to suck so much if he wasn't spending it with his family. Last year, he'd spent it with Donny, practically the same way he was spending it now. They played guitar together, they drank together, and that was when they decided to go to LA.
...Together.
He didn't want to think about how he was in LA this Christmas and Donny wasn't.
"What d'ya think the guys are doin' right now?" Pickles asked when Tony fell into a thoughtful rhythm. He didn't bother opening his eyes; he already knew just the way Tony's face looked while he was trying to think of the next part of a melody.
"Mm. Sammy's doing that over-protective thing with his mom and stepdad," Tony said, and Pickles could feel him shrug.
"Prob'ly gettin' high to ignore it all," Pickles suggested.
"Nah, wouldn't do that shit at home. That fuckin' mommy complex and all."
Pickles made a little grunt of agreement. He was only just now realising that he missed the presence of his bandmates nearly as much as he missed Donny. They were a band. That was way tighter than any fucking family could ever be.
At least Tony wouldn't abandon him.
He cracked an eye open to grab the bottle as he listened to the sound of a pick striking thickly-coiled strings. Pickles was imagining the guitar in his head, and his fingers itched a bit to play, but his belly felt warm and his head felt fuzzy and he was comfortable right where he was.
"Bullets is probably gettin' laid," Tony offered as he came to another lull, repeating the same two measures a few times.
"Think he'll ever let us meet that girlfriend'a his?" Pickles' fingers played just above the knee of Tony's jeans, half-caressing.
"Nah, he's gettin' way too serious about her," Tony said. "It's no good to get so attached- we're gonna be touring and shit. Better t'keep that shit all about sex, man."
"Easier just to fuck your bandmates, eh?" Pickles teased.
"Hey, I don't hear you complaining," Tony said, and Pickles opened his eyes just in time to catch his smirk. Maybe this stupid holiday wasn't all that bad. At least, not if he got to be home for Christmas.