Work Text:
Chris stands in the large, snow-covered front garden, wrapped in thick clothes but still shivering, and stares up at the roof. Because Chef is standing on the roof and attempting to put up the Christmas lights.
“Come on, dude, you must be finished soon!” Chris calls, his breath visible in the freezing air. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his hands still numb despite his ridiculously thick gloves.
“I’ll be finished when I’m finished!” Chef calls back, glaring down at him. “And until that point, just SHUT UP!”
“There’s no need to be like that, dude—”
“But there is! You’ve been asking me that every five minutes for an hour now. Either come up and help me, or go inside. Just stop your darn questions!” Chef snaps. His foot slips and a load of snow cascades off of the roof.
Chris raises his eyebrows. He knows Chef has a point, but Chris McLean has never been one to admit he’s wrong. So without saying anything, he grasps the ladder with numb hands and his numb feet start to climb up the ladder. And with some difficulty, he stumbles his way onto the roof.
It’s much colder up here and he shivers. But at least there’s a beautiful view, the stars twinkling in the night sky. And now Chef won’t snap at him for doing nothing but standing there moaning at him.
“Right then, dude, what d’you want me to do?” he says.
Chef looks at him and then he starts to smile. He hands Chris the box half full of Christmas lights. “Just hold these for me, pretty boy, and try not to break anything.”
Chris grins and carefully nudges Chef, smiling at his partner as they stand together on the roof in the freezing cold. “Shut up, dude.”