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"So you're telling me that I have four days of leave and we're going to spend it decorating a Christmas tree?" Brad asks, watching Nate disappear into the next row of trees. "Are we going to bake cookies, too?"
He can't see Nate anymore but he hears the answering laugh. Brad doesn't move and eventually Nate reappears in front of him, leaning out from between a couple of the trees.
"Are you going to help me, or not?" Nate asks, his eyebrows raised a little.
Brad raises his eyebrows back. "Do I have much of a choice?"
Nate seems to think about it for a minute or two before he smiles and shakes his head. "No, not really." He turns on his heel and disappears again.
Brad tries not to smile and follows. It takes some weaving in and out of the trees, but eventually he finds Nate circling one that's roughly seven and a half feet tall. Brad circles the other way around it and they meet on the other side. "Are you done yet?" he asks.
Nate slants a look at him and doesn't respond right away. After a minute or two he says, voice light, "There are some places where you can go cut down your own Christmas tree. Be thankful I'm not making you do that." He turns his attention back to the tree, tilting his head this way and that, but eventually he scrunches his nose a little and keeps moving.
Brad presses his lips together to keep from grinning. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket to warm them up and trails along behind Nate. "This isn't a life or death decision, Fick. Pick a goddamn tree."
"I have to find the right one," Nate says over his shoulder and stops to look at another one. He hums thoughtfully and starts running his fingers over the needles. "Did you know that the Fraser fir has been picked as the official tree of the White House more often than any other type?"
"I did not know that," Brad says, and then gestures toward the tree. "That one looks nice."
"Mm, no." Nate's hand falls away from the tree. "The branches aren't strong enough. They aren't going to hold the ornaments very well," he decides.
Brad rolls his eyes and slips by Nate toward the next row. He eyes one of the trees for a moment or two and then tugs one hand out of his pocket to test the branches. "Hey Nate," he calls out, glancing over his shoulder briefly when he feels Nate come up behind him. "What about this one?"
Nate makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, his hand joining Brad's among the branches. "It isn't bad." He starts to make his way around the tree and doesn't speak again until he's on the other side and Brad can't see him. "Except this side is sort of messed up."
Brad circles around to look. "So turn that side toward the wall. No one's going to know."
"I will," Nate reasons. "And besides, I think it's too tall."
"You could take some off the top," he suggests, even though he knows Nate's already crossed it off the list of possibilities. Brad watches Nate move over to the next row. "You're not going to find a perfect tree, you know."
"I know." Nate flashes him a smile. "Perfection doesn't really exist."
"You'll have to make do, sir."
Nate's smile gets a little bigger and there's laughter in his green eyes. Brad's pretty sure it's an image that's going to stick with him for a long while. "I'll find some way to manage."
Brad returns the smile. He shoves his hands back in his pockets and starts to wander through the trees, only sort of looking at them. Instead he watches a boy chase his two younger sisters in and out of the rows shouting that there's a tree monster after them. The girls shriek with laughter and keep running. Their parents' admonishments are halfhearted and mostly amused.
He has to sidestep the girls at one point when he emerges from one of the rows and nearly gets run into. His back brushes one of the trees and he turns once the area is clear to look it over and assess it for damage. There isn't any, but Brad takes a step back to really look at it. He turns again to find Nate, but can't immediately spot him and he's not going to resort to shouting.
The tree is probably only a little over seven feet tall and has a full, round shape, not too skinny. Some of the branches stick out farther than the others, but they're sturdy, and he figures they can trim the really long ones back some.
Brad starts to circle it, trailing his fingers through the needles. He huffs a laugh when he runs into Nate on the other side. "What do you--"
"Yeah, this is it." Nate beams at him, and Brad smiles back. The smile turns to an all-out grin when Nate starts to rattle off all of the facts that he knows about Noble firs.
It takes a few minutes to get one of the guys in the neon vests to come over and get the tree down for them. The guy takes some of the wayward lower branches off with a chainsaw and shaves the trunk down to Nate's specifications.
Brad stands by and watches two of the guys run it through the net to bundle the branches, and wishes he had some popcorn when he watches them try to tie the damn thing to the top of Nate's car. He glances down when Nate nudges him with an elbow and automatically takes the thing Nate hands him.
"What the fuck is this?"
"A wood chip," Nate replies, flipping a matching inch-thick circle from hand to hand. "It's from the tree. We always take one home. When I was little I drew on them, and my mom used them as coasters. One year she turned one into an ornament. She still puts it on her tree every year."
There's a sarcastic reply that dies in his throat because of the fond, nostalgic look on Nate's face. Brad just smiles and resists the strong urge he gets to lean over and kiss him.
They manage to get the tree off the car and into Nate's apartment with little fuss. The netting stays on until the tree is sitting straight in the green tree stand, and then Nate cuts it off with a box cutter.
Regina fits pretty perfectly in the corner of Nate's apartment, though Brad doesn't voice that thought out loud. He also doesn't admit to actually calling the tree Regina -- the name Ray had given it when he responded to the short video Brad had sent him of the struggle the guys had getting the tree on the car. Brad knows better than to ask why the fuck Ray is naming Christmas trees.
Nate returns to the living room with a couple of red and green plastic bins. He shoves one at Brad, who sits cross-legged on the floor where the coffee table used to be.
"Here."
"Are we seriously going to sit here and decorate this tree all night?" Brad asks, opening the lid on the bin. He reaches in and pulls out a tangled mess of colored Christmas lights. "You do realize I'm Jewish, don't you?"
Nate rolls his eyes. "Excuses, excuses."
"I think I need some persuading. A blow job, maybe."
Nate laughs at him and climbs back to his feet. "Untangle the lights, Brad, and we'll talk about it." He heads for the kitchen calling, "Do you want some coffee?" over his shoulder.
"Sure." Brad tugs the lights into his lap and resigns himself to unfucking the situation. "You could make things easier on yourself next year and actually wind them neatly instead of just throwing them into the damn bin." He takes the coffee mug Nate hands him and stares at the Star of David emblazoned on the side for a second. "Cute."
Nate winks at him and sits down to start unpacking the bin of carefully wrapped ornaments.
Brad just shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee, which turns out to be heavily spiked with whiskey.
It takes them nearly three hours, but they manage to get the tree decorated. Almost as soon as Nate declares it officially done, Brad is on him, deft hands making quick work of all the layers of clothes they're both wearing to ward off the winter weather.
They fuck slowly, right there on the living room floor, rug burns be damned. The only light in the room comes from the colorful bulbs on the tree.
Brad doesn't say out loud that he likes the way the light shines on Nate's pale skin, but he thinks the way he showers kisses on all the colored spots probably gives him away. Afterward, he lies on the floor with his head and shoulders propped up against the bottom of the couch and stares at the tree.
Nate is sprawled out on his stomach next to him, his head pillowed on his own arms, the long line of his body pressed tightly against Brad's side.
Brad can tell by Nate's breathing that he isn't asleep, but he's well on his way. He settles a hand on Nate's back and absentmindedly rubs the skin between his shoulder blades. "The tree looks nice," he says softly. He feels Nate's laugh more than he hears it.
Nate drops a kiss on Brad's side. "I am assured of this."