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If there was one good thing about Tony’s random trips to California, it was the food. A large portion of Y/N’s heart belonged to Mexican food, but all the produce that reached her small hometown in Georgia was nowhere near as fresh as it was in LA, especially the avocados. Not to mention there was a true, honest-to-god taco stand on, like, every corner. And if Y/N couldn’t get her guacamole from a restaurant, at, say, midnight, there were plenty of 24-hour shops open where she could get all the crisp, fresh ingredients she needed to make her own.
Tony was off at one of his favorite nightclubs, but Y/N wasn’t feeling up to heavy drinking and music that night, and sent her boyfriend on ahead.
What she was feeling up for was some guacamole. Unfortunately, the produce left in the beach house fridge was far gone, left from the last time it had been visited, and she rolled her eyes at Tony’s laziness as she tossed it out. Luckily the closest grocery store was only a five minute drive, and she had made Tony leave both sets of keys to his car while he was off getting wasted. She was home with all proper ingredients in less than half an hour, and turned on the radio to a Christmas station. It was only the first week of December, but Christmas Time was also Homemade Pie Time, and Y/N would be damned if she didn’t appreciate a whole season dedicated to one of the greatest culinary inventions of all time.
She joined into Jingle Bell Rock as she took a seat at the counter, pulled up her guacamole bowl and reached into one of her shopping bags for her beautifully fresh avocados.
~
The watch on Y/N’s wrist chimed at her, just after she had scraped all the vivid green flesh from the fruits, indicating it was 1 a.m. She shed the papery skin from her next ingredient – an onion, humming the last couple of notes of one of her favorite Christmas tunes.
She sliced it open, thinking maybe her reading glasses would keep the magical cry-chemicals from reaching her eyes. She was, unfortunately, wrong, and after dicing only a quarter of the thing, her eyes were stinging and beginning to gather tears, and she had at least another quarter of it to cut.
And, of course, right at that moment, the front door in front of her rustled, then opened.
Tony greeted her with a broad, slightly drunken smile. “There’s my angel!”
He shut the door behind him, leaning on it for a moment as he regained his balance. His steps across the kitchen were steady enough, and when he noticed the heavy tears threatening to fall from her lashes, he sobered up in a heartbeat. Y/N put down her knife and turned to him as he rushed to her.
“Babe, what’s wrong? I knew I shouldn’t have gone out without you, I’m so sorry, tomorrow we can spend the whole entire day doing whatever you want, I promise.”
The sight of him, slightly swaying, his hands bracing her neck and worrying over her made her laugh, which didn’t help the situation at all.
“Oh, doll, come on, don’t cry,” Tony continued, brushing away her tears. “It’s not even 2 a.m. Don’t cry.”
She threw her head back and laughed loudly, releasing his gentle grip on her. When she looked back at Tony and brushed another tear from her cheekbone, confusion and concern swirled on his face.
“I’m making guacamole,” she explained. “I’m cutting an onion, Tony. I’m fine!”
He could see the cutting board now that his view wasn’t blocked by the grocery bags on the counter. His concern turned to sheepishness, and the tension in his shoulders released as he sighed.
“It’s nice to hear you promise me things, though,” Y/N snickered. “And I’ll take you up on the offer for tomorrow. But I’m not worried about you being out – if you wanted to leave me, you’d have to kill me. I know too much.”
Tony turned back to the kitchen and shuffled for a shotglass and the nearest bottle of alcohol. “I’m not drunk enough for this. You and your… guacamole obsession.”
“Come on, baby! Participate in my Christmas Guac! I’ll cry for real if you want!”