Work Text:
Gavin’s stress levels were through the roof.
His cortisol levels were dangerously elevated. He was restless, upset, and so obviously tense that Nines didn’t need to scan him to see how badly he was on edge. From the moment he had woken up, Nines could see it in every line of his boyfriend’s body, from the impatient way he held himself, to the clipped, cut off way that he responded when spoken to.
Nines didn’t know what was wrong, but whatever it was, it was truly dampening the Christmas spirit.
“I’m no expert at human tradition, but I’m fairly certain that there are supposed to be three wise men, not two.”
“Shut up, smart-ass. It broke a while ago, okay?” Gavin huffed, as he set out the row of small figures by the nativity. The miniature barn was old, very old, made of wood and held together by rusted nails. The thatching on the stable was balding, bare in places, and almost falling apart. The paint on the porcelain figures of the scene was faded, and their delicate features were worn by time and handling.
“Right. Shutting up.” Nines’ voice drifted up from behind the book he held open on his chest.
Nines wasn’t really reading, where he was stretched out on the sofa. His previous efforts to help Gavin had been warded off to mere observation as his boyfriend adorned their house, listening to him curse and growl as he fought to position the decorations just so. Earlier, when Gavin had dragged the pine tree in from the front yard, he had tripped over one of their cats, and between apologising to Pumpkin and clicking his tongue, he had promised the foliage a miserable death with gasoline and fire.
Christmas is important to Gavin. Nines knew this, but he also knew that Gavin was too proud to ask for help. Even on a good day, Gavin would rather perch precariously on top of a kitchen chair, and wrap tinsel around the curtain rod with strained arms, then ask Nines to stretch up and loop it with his dexterous fingers. It’s also a human tradition. Traditions are familiar, comforting. Maybe it will help with whatever is affecting his mood.
However, when Gavin produced a tangled nest of Christmas lights, and started shaking them vigorously, Nines set the book on the coffee table, and pushed himself up from the couch. “Fucking Christ.” Gavin snarled, as he tried to prise apart the tightly woven cables with sharp tugs of his fingers. Nines crossed the room swiftly, and scooped up the excess lights from the floor. He unpicked the twisted bulbs methodically, inching closer, and came to stand at Gavin’s shoulder. “I swear they weren’t like this when I packed them away. The box must have gotten all fucked in the loft.”
“Gavin, let me do this.” Nines kept his tone quiet, non-confrontational. He didn’t want Gavin to think Nines believed him incapable, but some things require more patience than others.
After a few seconds, Gavin sighed, and stepped away from the tangled mess. He rubbed a hand over his face, and watched as Nines continued unpicking the lights. “I’m usually fine at doing this, just this year is…”
“Is…?” Nines probed.
“Nothing, alright? Just...once you’re done with those, I’ll put them around the tree, then I’ll get started on the balls and all that stuff.” Gavin jerked his thumb in the direction of a small stack of boxes, their festive contents labelled in Gavin’s handwriting with a thick marker pen.
Nines glanced at the remaining decorations and raised his eyebrows. “I’m hearing a lot of ‘I', and not much ‘We’, Gavin. Do you think I’m unable to string some lights around a few branches?”
“No.”
“Then why can’t I help?”
“I don’t want you to. Just relax, okay?”
“No. Not okay.” Nines set down the neatly coiled lights on the edge of the couch, and steered Gavin by his forearms to face him. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Gavin. Let me help you.”
Gavin wasn’t looking at him, opting instead to stare at the lights, at the chipped nativity figures, anything but the android’s face, which was composed in an expression of concern. Nines could wait, he would wait, his thumbs kneading circles into Gavin’s wrists, and his face tipped to one side so that their eyes could meet.
“It’s your first Christmas, and our first one together… ” Gavin’s explanation was vague, but Nines knew better than to interrupt. “It’s a big fucking deal. You already do so much for me, so I wanted to make this special for you.”
“So you’re putting unnecessary pressure on yourself to make it perfect?”
“It’s not unnecessary.” Gavin snapped, before his harsh expression softened. “You’re worth it, babe.”
Nines waited a beat, processing Gavin’s reasoning, and allowing the other man time to think. He could understand Gavin’s need to have things a certain way, but disagreed entirely that the responsibility should be his alone. It was hardly fair, and besides, there was little Nines could learn from the sidelines while Gavin fussed around the various bubble wrapped ornaments. “Well, I’d like to help. You don’t have to do all of this by yourself.” When Gavin looked like he was ready to protest, Nines pressed a kiss to his lips, and carried on. “Plus, you can use this as an opportunity to teach me all about Christmas.”
Gavin worked his jaw, shuffled his feet, and finally relented, dipping his forehead to press against Nines’ own. “Jesus. You’re like a dog with a bone.” Nines smiled at his endearing comment, and accepted the kiss that Gavin nuzzled into his cheek. “Fucking androids…”
“I’d like to think it’s one of my more useful attributes.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, I’ll show you what goes where.”
They worked together after that, and the mood in the home was considerably lighter. Human and android draped lights and ornaments around the tree, tinsel on the mantelpiece, and stockings above the fire. The cats stayed out of trouble, batting bubble wrap and tissue paper around the floor. They played in the empty boxes, making Gavin smile, and shake his head. At one point, Gavin disappeared into the bedroom with ribbon, paper and tape, and as Nines cut paper snowflakes for the window with mathematical precision, he could hear crooned, off-key carols drifting out from under the door.
By the evening, they settled on the couch after dinner, and admired the transformed home in all its twinkling, festive glory. Gavin’s presents for Nines, with their hodgepodge taping and uneven ribbonage, were nestled under the glowing tree next to Nines’ own pristine efforts. As the TV played an old Christmas movie on low volume, the windows gleamed invitingly with snowflakes, string lights and tinsel. Even the old nativity seemed to be a little less withered.
“Well, I’m impressed.” Gavin pressed a kiss to Nines’ hair, and the android hummed in agreement. “Looks like we’ll make a Christmas elf out of you yet.”
Nines quirked an eyebrow in Gavin’s direction, and the seriousness in his expression brought a loud, raucous laugh from Gavin’s chest, his head tilting back to rest against the sofa cushions. Seeing Gavin acting so lighthearted, after such a tense morning, brought a semblance of calm to Nines’ processors, and had the android twisting on the sofa to climb into his boyfriend’s lap.
“A Christmas elf.” Nines deadpanned, and delivered a smooth kiss to Gavin’s lips, followed by several more when he kept laughing. He wasn’t truly offended, but had noted that the more he pressed the issue, the more amused it seemed to be making his human. “Gavin.”
“Okay, okay, you’re not an elf. You’re a tin soldier. My brave tin soldier…” Gavin reached up to stroke a hand through Nines’ hair. In return, Nines kissed his palm fondly, resting more of his body weight into Gavin’s lap. This was a side of Gavin only Nines got to see: a gentle, more loving man, who babied his cats, enjoyed pampering himself with bath oils, and held his hand tightly through late night horror movies.
That’s not to say Gavin couldn’t be argumentative, wasn’t aggravating to work with at times, or a sore loser when it came to anything competitive. There were days when Gavin wanted to fight the world, and Nines’ back bent under the weight of injustice, but the nights when they lay together, spooned or facing each other, were sacred ground.
Gavin sighed, and drew their bodies closer together, one hand clasped around Nines’ nape, and his other palm flat against the android’s lower back. Nines’ arms were tucked inwards, his elbows bent, passive, but he didn’t feel trapped in the loop of Gavin’s arms. No, from this new position he could hear Gavin’s pulse under his ear, and feel the warmth emanating from his solid chest.
“I'm sorry for being an ass. I love you, you know that?” Gavin’s voice was low, spoken against the blue glow of his LED. In response, Nines smoothed a hand down Gavin’s chest, and allowed his vocal processors to vibrate in an approximation of a purr. It was deep, like the rumbling of an old motor, or from beneath the ribs of a tiger, and Nines felt Gavin’s lips curve into a smile against his synthetic skin.
“I love you too, Gavin.”
Outside, snow fell in heavy flakes through the darkened sky, and the cold wind whistled down the chimney, muffling the sound of Detroit’s traffic as holidaymakers made their respective journeys. In their home, however, it was warm and bright. The cats slept sprawled in front of the fire, and Gavin’s pulse was a steady drum under his cheek, carrying him to his own slumber.
It was the first Christmas Eve of Nines’ life, and although no amount of preconstruction technology could inform Nines of the future to come, he held hope that they would have many more together.