Work Text:
Their hands briefly brushed against each other as they removed baubles and other hanging decorations from the box.
Cormoran was struck with how varied and almost ‘traditional’ Robin’s choices were.
He’d seen Charlotte’s trees in the past and they were always rigidly based on one colour theme, with only a couple of varieties in the shape of baubles.
The range that was now almost filling the small sofa cushions however was made up of all sorts of designs, materials and colours.
There were brightly coloured wooden ones; beautiful swirling glass baubles; flat, ceramic ones with ribbon loops; a few made of bare wood with dark, scrollwork etched into them; various coloured and shaped baubles…in fact as he handled a rather beautiful robin shaped ornament covered in felt and feathers he realised that there were no 2 alike.
He stifled a small chuckle as he carefully placed the bird onto the desk.
“What’re you laughing at?” she asked as she brushed her fingers over the soft, marabou wings of a glass angel.
“They just remind me of my Aunt Joan’s decorations…..I like it Ellacott!” he smiled, draping a length of red tinsel around Robin’s neck like a scarf.
Robin managed to bring herself back from wherever she had drifted to, [had his finger tips just scraped against her collar bone and flicked some of her hair aside when he’d done that thing with the tinsel?] and she finally located the box of neatly wrapped tree lights at the bottom of the box.
“If they go on first why the hell are they at the bottom of the box?” Strike asked, smiling at how neatly they had been re packaged into the original box, unlike the ones he’d seen Nick trying to untangle earlier that week as he’d ‘helped’……and watched the match of course!
Robin tutted and rolled her eyes….but made a mental note that he was of course quite correct, and she should pack the box differently.
“Just shut up and plug them in,” she noticed his blank look, “No point getting them on the tree if they’ve stopped working!” she explained and she saw him nod in acceptance of her impeccable logic – as always!
Satisfied that the lights still worked; and on Strike’s part that they weren’t some sort of flashing, multi-coloured monstrosities; Robin instructed him how to work down the tree so that the flex trailed close to the ground and reached the plug socket easily.
“You being so tall helps in this bit,” she grinned as his long arms easily managed to drape the cable around the bristly, green tree.
“It does come in handy sometimes,” he smirked back, “However, the shelf in my fridge is low enough for you to reach……it’s gone 5…..beer?”
“Egg nog would be more festive!” she glared, and giggled outloud at the look of abject horror on her partner’s face.
“I’d rather lick my own foot!” he shuddered as he heard her continued laughter and light footsteps heading up to his flat above the office.
Robin returned with 2 bottles of beer and handed one across, offering her own up in a ‘Cheers!’
He reached over, accepted the beer and the bottle clink before downing a significant gulp of the chilled lager and resuming his slightly ungainly, but effective placement of the lights.
“OK, I think that’s it,” he stated as Robin raised her hand to pause him as he reached for the first decoration, which happened to be the little, feathery robin.
“Let me just check, we don’t want them all in a clump!” she stated, earning an eye rolling snort from Cormoran.
“Are you insinuating that I’ve botched up my job of Christmas light wrangler?” he joked, but bent to flick the switch on the plug socket.
Robin gave light, little claps with the tips of her fingers as the tasteful dots of warm light showed beautifully and evenly spread across the tree branches.
“OK….you’ve passed the test,” Robin admitted and picked up a glass bauble offering it almost religiously to him, “You have earned the right to trim!” she stated, reverently.
He snorted but followed her lead and accepted the bauble with a serious air, “With great power comes great responsibility,” he announced, before they both broke into giggles and began covering the tree with the various ornaments.
“How come this reminds you of your Aunt Joan’s tree?” Robin asked as she positioned a wooden candy cane so that it dangled freely between the fake branches.
Strike was enjoying the task of transferring the selection of coloured objects from the sofa to the tree; it appealed to his sense of routine to watch one scattered selection reduce in number bit by bit.
He shrugged and regarded their partially completed creation, “It’s just colourful, and they’re all different. Aunt Joan has all sorts of stuff on her tree. Some are ancient, others are things made by me and Lucy when we were little. There was a bell that had lost it’s clacker thing, but it still goes on the tree…..she always insists that it never goes next to one of the ones that rings….says the poor bell would get an inferiority complex!”
Robin smiled warmly at his features which had softened as he spoke….it might also be because he was now nearing the bottom of his second bottle of beer!
“Well, I just like variety,” Robin explained, “I asked all my family and friends to buy me a decoration for the tree when I bought it….saved a fortune ‘cos they’re not cheap, but it meant I got loads of different ones. So now I just buy one new one each year, or when one breaks I suppose……this one of course might get broken first!” and she waggled a rather rude, and well endowed Santa at him before holding it against the tree and muttering, “Oh no! He can’t be pointing that at an angel!” and hastily repositioning the phallic ornament.
“Stephen?” Cormoran queried, giving the item a second and eyebrow raising glance.
“No!......My mum!” Robin grinned while Strike slow blinked and shook his head.
Strike continued to place ornaments on the tree, considering her resourcefulness as always.
It was so like Robin to think up a way to decorate her Christmas tree that didn’t cost her, or anyone an arm and a leg….and also just like her to accept any of the varied decorations she was presented with without worrying about whether they ‘went’ with her tastes….and also to make sure that Santa bearing his cock was given as much consideration as the more tasteful additions.
Robin had moved across to her desk and was opening the drawer as Strike twisted a branch fractionally to release a wirework teardrop shaped decoration so that it twirled pleasingly.
“I got this one for this year,” she stated, holding out a small, plain white, paper bag, similar to the ones they picked up for take out sandwiches. “I thought you might like it…once I realised the tree could only fit here…..thought I might need to sweeten you up and convince you!”
He glanced down and accepted the bag, reaching his large hand inside and withdrawing a plain, plastic, silver bauble bearing the red Arsenal football team crest.
He was legitimately touched by the thought and stroked his thumb across the smooth surface of the ornament.
“Thank you,” he stated sincerely, “I love this…..it’s great. Thank you Robin.”
On impulse he reached out his arm and dragged her into a slightly off centred hug; her face fell against the scratchy warmth of his beard and jaw and she felt him inhale as her hair and subtle scent surrounded his senses.
Releasing her, somewhat reluctantly, he found a place near the middle of the tree which was bare enough for ‘his’ bauble and hung it before taking the feathered robin which he’d kept to one side and placing it adjacent to it so that they hung almost side by side on the branches.
“Perfect,” he murmured before downing the rest of his beer.