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There’s still a sliver of sunlight peeking over the horizon when they pull into the motel parking lot and the first few snowflakes start to fall.
Ted is the first one out of the van, squeezing Bill's hand for just a second before hopping out of the passenger’s-side door to take in the snowfall. Before this week, Ted had never seen snow, having spent all his winters in the comfortable chill of San Dimas. He knows Bill saw snow when he was little, back when his family went up to New York every December, and the princesses have most certainly seen their share of unforgiving medieval winters, but Ted has made it a whole twenty-five years without seeing a single snowflake live and up-close.
Maybe that’s when he had suggested that Wyld Stallyns drive up the pacific northwest for the Wyld Stallyns Holiday Tour, Bill had lit up and agreed immediately, even if Liz and Jo had thought they were nuts. It was so cold up there, so gray and damp. Bill had understood, though, that it might be nice to go someplace different from home, someplace that really felt wintery.
It was, after all, their last tour for the foreseeable future; now that Billie and Thea were here, They had all gotten together back in June before the babies came and agreed that once they were parents unanimously agreed that it would be in the group’s best interest to take a break from touring. The band was was still going strong, and their last album had performed so well that they wanted to make a most triumphant exit, and so they had all decided to take the band -- and the babies -- for one last tour during the holiday season to commemorate the end of an excellent chapter of their lives and the start of an even better one.
So far, the tour has been about as perfect as they could’ve hoped for; the music always feels fresh, the crowds are always pumped, and they’ve been able to sample a most savory selection of regional winter delicacies. Not to mention, their most efficient four-person-parenting system means that there’s always someone to hold the girls while the other three set up the equipment, and no one ever forgets to double-check to make sure they’ve got their Wyld Stallyns noise-cancelling headphones on before they head on stage.
But the best part of this tour, at least for Ted, is that every night this week, after the show, he gets to watch the evening snowfall with his daughters and Bill.
Sometimes it gets too windy or too slushy or -- as Liz and Jo had predicted -- too cold, and they have to be content to watch from the window. Tonight though, is just a gentle drift of flurries, and Ted can take his time to stand out in the empty lot with his head back and his hands fluttering at his sides to let the snowflakes hit his nose and cheeks and eyelashes.
He takes a minute just for himself before helping Bill and the princesses unload their luggage from the back of the van. Liz and Jo are quick to take their bags and hurry off to their rooms after kissing the babies goodnight, but Bill stays out with Ted, helping him scoop a baby up in each arm and press them close as the four of them get dusted with snowflakes.
Ted grins, the heat of his flushed face melting the snow into little wet droplets, and he nuzzles each daughter as best as he can, Billie squirming and trying to catch the flakes in her mittens, Thea crossing her eyes when one lands on her nose. Ted feels most grateful to be here, bundled up with his babies and Bill, and the soft haze of snow.
Bill feels most grateful to be here, watching him.
Really, he’s grateful about everything that’s happened since they won the battle of the bands four years ago -- or at least, all the big things. He’s grateful that they get to keep making music, and that they actually make money from it now -- enough that two years ago, they finally got to quit their bogus jobs at Pretzels n Cheese. He’s grateful for their house, the one that he and Ted bought together just this year, bright and cozy and all theirs. He still misses their old apartment sometimes, but he knows that was his and Ted’s place for just the two of them, and it feels right that they should have a new place for the four of them to make new memories.
He’s most grateful that it gets to be the four of them. Like, most grateful, the kind of grateful that transcends words and kisses and white-hot guitar solos, because he’s got Ted, and Ted’s got him, and they’ve got the girls.
It was enough just to have Ted, to love Ted and kiss Ted, and their most amicable split with the babes back in 1991 had meant that they were all still bodacious colleagues and stellar bandmates. Liz and Jo had been so supportive -- so much so that Bill wasn’t sure they hadn’t known that he and Ted would get together before they knew it themselves -- and when they finally started making decent money and wanted to start a family, Liz and Jo had been happy to be their surrogates. Now that they’ve got Little B and Little T, Bill is more certain than ever that he loves Ted, that Ted is the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and he feels himself get hot and flustered watching Ted smile in the snow, because tonight he’s going to make it official.
He hopes he can blame his red face on the cold when he moves to lean up against Ted and take Billie in his arms. They both giggle at the awkward shuffling of chubby baby arms and legs, and once everyone is situated, Bill nudges Ted with his shoulder and says, “c’mon dude. We should head inside, it’s getting dark.”
Ted nods, noticing where Thea’s nose is starting to get red and runny from the cold. After a few more skilled maneuvers, they finally make their way inside the motel room with their bags and their babies, all in one trip. It’s already toasty inside, so they waste no time in peeling off their outer winter layers before getting the girls out of their snowsuits and setting them down on a blanket on the floor to stretch.
Ted flops onto the bed, the long day and finally catching up to his body, and Bill sits on the floor in front of the tv, leaning against the bed and kissing and tickling the babies as he pulls them both into his lap. “You wanna watch something?”
Ted’s eyes had fallen shut without him realizing, and Bill’s voice is just loud enough against the crinkle of the pillow to startle him to sit up, “yeah, maybe there’s some Christmas specials on.”
The motel doesn’t have many channels, and most of them are news or infomercials, but they do find one that’s showing Dolly Parton’s Home For Christmas special, and Ted settles down on the floor beside Bill to lean his head on his shoulder and hold Billie against his chest while they watch. She and Thea both stir a little and wiggles closer to the tv when Dolly starts singing, and Ted whispers to Bill, “dude, they’re already most musically-inclined.”
Bill nods, “they’re gonna have such good taste, like -- they’re gonna be into music that hasn’t even come out yet, and they’re gonna be so smart, I bet it’ll take them way less time than it took us to learn how to play -- I mean, if they wanna play,” he adds, kissing the top of Thea’s head and holding out his index finger for her to squeeze.
Ted nods slowly and strokes Billie’s hair, “I just want them to be happy with whatever they end up trying.”
Bill presses his lips to Ted’s temple, “they will be, dude, cause we’ll help them,” and Ted grins, safe and proud and so in love.
“That’s right little dudes, we just want you to be happy,” Ted says, his voice hushed as Billie starts to drift off against his chest, “we’re gonna have a most splendiferous first Christmas tomorrow, and a stellar eighth night of Hanukkah-- oh bogus, dude,” he says with a start when he realizes didn’t bring his present for Bill in with him, that he must have left it in the van.
“Hmm? Bill raises an eyebrow and shifts to look at Ted as best he can without waking up Thea, who’s already sound asleep in his arms, “what happened?”
“I left something in the van, hold on -- can you take Little B?” he sets Billie down as gently as he can and stumbles to his feet, hair falling in his face as he scrambles to get his coat and scarf back on.
“Sure, dude,” Bill replies, but Ted’s already the door, keys in hand, sprinting to the van in the pitch-dark lot. He checks around the passenger’s seat, then the back, then passenger’s seat again, just to be sure, the knot in his stomach growing tighter and tighter until it hits him-- he left it where he wrapped it. Backstage.
He had been so proud when he picked it out, too; this Hanukkah, he and Bill had been giving each other little gifts from the concert venue or the city they were staying in to commemorate the tour, and he had an excellent one for tonight: Wyld Stallyns mittens. It was perfect, the kind of thing that Bill would appreciate, given how he always liked to rep the band, but that he’d never buy for himself. He almost never wore gloves, letting his hands get white and icy-cold back in their freezing apartment, and this winter he had finally caved and started wearing Ted’s old pair, one size too big and so worn there were holes in two of the fingertips.
They were perfect, now they were locked up in some auditorium, sitting so pretty where Ted had left them in green plaid wrapping paper.
Ted slumps against the side of the van, eyes watering from the frustration as much as the cool night air. He knows it’s not a huge deal; they’re playing a two-day engagement here so he can go back and get them tomorrow, and they’ve still got their Christmas gifts to exchange in the morning, but he just wanted -- things were already so perfect this year, he wanted everything to be perfect for Bill, too. The thought of not being able to give Bill something tonight feels so wrong, leaves a gap in his chest, because they’ve always given each other a gift a night, ever since it was just the two of them in their little apartment. Ted remembers how happy Bill had been to celebrate Hanukkah with him that year, the first year since his mom died, and how they had both felt so lucky to be have traditions just for the two of them that they hadn’t cared when the burners all went out and their oven caught fire, and they ended up ordering Chinese takeout five nights in a row that week. Ted sniffles and smiles a little as the memory warms that ache inside him, the two of them on that busted green couch, the two of them breaking open fortune cookies and reading them out loud, and how badly he had wanted to lean over and kiss Bill even then -- and he gets an idea.
“Hey Bill, do you think -- could you watch B and T for a minute, I gotta” he pants, trying to catch his breath after sprinting the short length of the parking lot back to their room, “I left something -- I just need to go out for a minute, I’ll be right back.”
Bill’s forehead furrows, “are you sure dude, I mean, of course! I can watch them but, you sure you wanna go out this late? It’s pretty dark.”
They both know Ted’s not the least heinous driver in history, but thankfully the snow had stopped falling, and it was still warm enough that there was no ice on the road.
“I know where I’m going, I’ll be safe. Promise,” he meets Bill’s eyes from the doorway, and once Bill nods to let him know that he trusts him, Ted bounds back into the parking lot and starts the van. He wasn’t lying, does know where he’s going, having seen the place on their way back from the show. He makes sure to drive slow, too, going a mile under the speed limit and stopping at all the yellow lights -- even the one that, looking back, he totally could’ve made. Once he knows he’s close, he starts scanning the little shops on either side of the street until he catches the blinking neon ‘open’ sign of the Joy Garden Chinese takeout place. He does his best to park on the side of the road, and races out onto the sidewalk, hardly noticing when his feet get all wet and cold as he runs through a puddle of slush. The door is stuck when he pulls at it, and for a second he worries ‘s too late before the lady wiping off tables in the front looks at him all funny and gestures down to the sign marked ‘push’ two feet below Ted’s face.
He’s too excited to feel embarrassed, and he’s out of there in five minutes, clutching a paper bag to his side.
The girls are both asleep by time, and Bill gives him a quiet sigh of relief and a peck on the cheek when he sees that Ted’s back safe, laughing when he pulls away and sees the takeout bag in Ted’s left hand.
“Babe, if you were still hungry, I coulda gotten something for you, you didn’t have to drive way out,” he says, nudging Ted gently as they settle back down in their spot on the floor.
“No dude it’s -- it’s your present, for tonight -- I mean,” he ducks down, suddenly shy, “it wasn’t supposed to be your present, I left it backstage, but I think you’ll like this one, too.”
“Aw Ted, dude, you didn’t have to, you coulda just given me double presents tomorrow night, you didn’t have to,” but his voice is soft and a little watery, and Ted just kisses him quick on the lips before pulling back, smiling.
“Yeah, but I wanted to, dude, we always do a gift a night, it’s,” he frowns, feeling silly all of a sudden, like maybe he did go too far out of his way, even as Bill nods and draws him closer.
“Yeah,” Bill agrees, kissing him back, smiling against his lips when they both wait an extra second before breaking apart.
“Okay, open it dude. It’s not as cool as some of the other presents, but I think you’ll like it.”
Bill tips the back upside down and laughs, bright and sweet when he sees a dozen fortune cookies wrapped in clear plastic hit the floor.
“I thought -- you remember the first year, the first time we did Hanukkah?”
“In the old apartment yeah,” Bill nods and he gathers the cookies in a little pile at his feet, “when the stove broke and the oven exploded and we set off all the smoke alarms?”
“Yeah, and they had to clear out the building and all the neighbors totally knew it was us who did it.”
They’re both laughing hard now, shaking with it as they try to keep quiet and not wake the girls, “yeah dude, I thought we were gonna get, like, kicked out on the spot. And then we couldn’t cook anything for the whole week, so we just kept ordering Chinese food,” Bill’s eyes have that soft, hooded look that they sometimes get when he and Ted are alone, and Ted feels so safe and warm, sighing when Bill leans in to kiss him again.
They trade wet, easy kisses for just a minute before pulling apart, and Bill cups Ted’s cheek in his hand and rubs his thumb over the space just below Ted’s eye. “Ted, this is -- you’re most resplendent, babe, I can’t believe you remembered all that stuff.”
Ted snorts a little even as he shivers under Bill’s touch, “course I did, you did,” and Bill shrugs and brushes his lips over Teds for just an instant.
“We went through so many cookies that week, too, I kept opening them ‘cause I wanted to find one that would like, tell me I had to kiss you, for good luck or something, but they all said weird stuff like--” he pauses to unwrap a cookie, the plastic crinkling so loud against the soft sounds of the babies breathing, “‘international travel is in your future’-- hey, maybe that means we’ll tour again someday”
“Excellent,” Ted replies, and they wiggle their fingers in a mini air-guitar before Ted presses his forehead to Bill’s, “I wanted to kiss you, too, dude, the whole time we were living together, and before, I can’t believe we waited until battle of the bands.”
“Me too,” Bill nods, but it’s okay, we’ve got the whole rest of our lives to kiss each other,” and to prove his point, he strokes over the back of Ted’s neck and guides Ted’s mouth to meet his, opening up just enough to press his tongue against Ted’s lips and lick over them just once, “oh wait, dude,” he pulls away quickly, blushing, “I didn’t give you yours yet.”
Ted shifts so that Bill can get up and get it out of his bag, but he already has it in his pocket, waiting. It’s a little Altoids box, the kind that Ted always buys for him at gas stations, and he fiddles with it in his lap, keeping it closed while he screws up his face and tries to think of what to say.
“I love you, Ted. I love you so much, and I wanna be with you forever, wanna have the best life with you, and I,” he takes in a shaky breath, “I wanna marry you.”
Ted feels a warmth open up across him, spreading out from the center of his chest and over his palms and deep across his face, and his voice catches a little when he replies, “I wanna marry you, too Bill.”
Bill smiles so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle up, “I know we can’t do it right now, officially anyway, but I just, I want you to know that I want to, and I figured,” he opens the box just a little, enough that Ted can see a little wire coiled up in the shape of a ring inside, “I figured I should do it the right way, like how we did with Liz and Jo. You deserve it, babe.”
“Oh dude, Bill, you got me a ring?” he’s all choked up now, eyes feeling too dry in the dusty heat of the room, and he pulls his hands in front of his face, overwhelmed.
“Well sort of, I did get you a real one, back home before tour started, but,” he groans and takes Ted’s hand in his own, “I left it at Liz and Jo’s place.”
There’s a split second of silence before they both laugh, too loud and shuddery with the babies asleep nearby, but they can’t help it. Ted’s arms feel prickly as he tries to catch his breath, and there’s tears pooling in the corner of his eyes.
“No way dude.”
“Yes way, babe. They let me keep it there so you wouldn’t find it at our place, and I forgot to get it back when we were packing, so I just-- made this one out of your guitar string, the one that snapped the first night.”
He takes Ted’s left hand in his own and slips the ring on; it’s a little too big, but Ted doesn’t mind, happy to have something loose enough to fidget with, and he smiles down at it before he catches Bill smiling at him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Ted hugs him tight, smushing their bodies as close as he can before kissing his fiancé square on the mouth.
There’s a soft noise from a few feet away, like the rustling of blankets, and then the sharp, high sound of both girls crying.
“Oh dude, we totally woke them up,” Bill pulls off with a wet noise, a little whine escaping out of Ted as they both shuffle over to soothe and rock the girls, “sorry, little dudes”
“Where’s your little bee, Little B?” Ted asks Billie, who answers with a squirm and a scream as he fishes around in the baby bag for her favorite bumblebee plush. She swats it away with most impressive force, and Ted giggles even as he pulls his mouth to the side, “you’re pretty tough, B. Alright, you win, no bee tonight.”
“Oh dude,” Bill has to raise his voice over Thea, still wailing even as she stills in his arms, “I totally forgot to sing to them while you were gone -- here,” he lays Thea back down on the bed, “you wanna do the Carpenters tonight?”
“An excellent suggestion, Bill,” Ted replies. He holds Billie for just a minute longer until she stops wiggling and sets her down beside her sister.
The girls love the Carpenters, especially when their dads sing for them; by the last refrain of ‘Merry Christmas, Darling,’ both babies are quiet and still, and Bill and Ted breathe silent sighs of relief.
“Hey Bill,” Ted whispers, wrapping his arm around Bill’s waist, “maybe when they’re older, we could do a little ceremony, just for us. Like, a wedding.”
Bill nods and pulls him in closer, “Totally, we could have at the house, in the backyard, and Liz and Jo could come, and maybe Missy and Deacon, too, and we can do vows and stuff”
“I think that might be nice,” Ted agrees, and he ducks down to kiss Bill once more, just a soft, dry press of the lips, before Bill pulls him down to kiss him back.