Archive of Our Own

It was mere days before Christmas and he should rightfully be home, all curled up in bed, asleep .  Yet here he was, waiting in the biting, freezing fucking cold at the train station, twenty three minutes past midnight for one Ronald Spiers.  The man, the myth, the stupid, infuriating legend who was a whole month and a half  late, as he’d stayed behind for training.  And morale.  And a myriad of other technically valid, but somewhat pithy little reasons for being gone, Carwood was sure.  None of which, valid as they may or may not be,  did anything to soothe the sting of being in their empty house.  Stuck standing stock still, gazing around at all of the empty, hollow spaces that Ron was supposed to be.  At the places that they were supposed to be together by now. 

Shivering against the gust of wind that rushes its way through bitingly and sends the uppermost layer of snow twirling brilliantly in the wind, Carwood tucks his arms more firmly across his chest and curls his hands into closed fists.  For the umpteenth time, he glances back over to the left of the platform, hoping to see some small, redeeming flash of light in the distance finally, or an end to the chill in the form of a time machine to go back to warmer climes and shake some sense into Ron, if nothing else.  Alas, it was just as pitch black as ever, save for the warm light of the old gas lanterns that radiated a warm glow, occasionally interrupted by tiny snowflakes as they skated past. 

By the time that the train had actually arrived at the station, a near hour had passed and he’d very nearly drifted off in sheer, frustrated boredom in as many minutes.  He’d had a mind, of course, to bring something along to do in an effort to try and while away the wait and possibly keep him entertained for the cab ride back, pending Ron’s response.  It had long since become too cold for the normally cheerful, if mundane game of crossword he’d spent the first twenty minutes on.  His fingers had gone numb at first, which was familiar enough to be brushed under the rug.  After the sun had disappeared behind the tops of the barren trees and nearly sunk all the way below the houses, however, his fingers had begun to ache and that simply couldn’t be abided.

He had had similar luck with trying to turn to reading once his hands had recovered.  The wind had picked up in doubletime, as if to spite him, specifically. 

He half glared at the train as it rumbled to a noisy stop, not budging an inch from his spot on the bench when the doors eventually slid open and all manner of people began to pour out.  Pleasantly, the ever growing crowd - other late larks, hopefully with more happy reasons for their prior departure - blocked the bulk of a particularly big gust of wind that tossed scarves, attacked coats and sent skirts and dresses dancing in the gale. 

Ron would find him, of this he had no doubt.  He’d have an easier time trying to outmaneuver a bloodhound, and had, but in fairness Walter was quite an old man by the time they’d got him and he was simply made for lying on the floor and howling blood curdlingly at three in the morning when he farts himself awake.  Poor thing.  Carwood snickers into his scarf at the memory, tensing at the feeling of a big hand on his shoulder.

“...How long have you been out here, Car?”

“Dunno, how long’ve you been gone?” he deadpans, shivering with a huff.  “Couple hours, maybe.” he amends after a pause, shooting a glance vaguely in his direction.  “You’re late.  Again.  Is this gonna be a running theme, or something?  If so, I’d like to at least be able to plan accordingly.”

“There was snow on the tracks, things got held up.  I tried to call you from the station.” he winces, squeezing his shoulder reflexively. 

With a long suffering, if a touch dramatic sigh, he gestures stiffly to the open, profoundly chilly spot on the bench beside him.  Ron, to his credit, wastes no time in taking him up on the offer, no complaint or fuss as always, god love him.  Even he can’t help the slight recoil before settling into the seat, proper.  “...Yeah, alright,” he acquiesces hesitantly, shifting to lean against him.  “I know that’s got to be absolutely miserable.  I’ll forgive the delay,” he begins  benevolently.  “ This  one, specifically.  You are still in an almost fascinating amount of trouble for the rest.”

He watches almost amusedly as Ron purses his lips, watches those tightly wound gears turning in his head as he settles on the particular battle he’s going to choose, and grins despite himself.  “I know,” Ron offers quietly, sneakily reaching up to hold one of his only semi frozen, semi aching hands.  Immediately, his hand is warm against his own and his resolve crumbles away just that little bit.  “There’s time now, to talk things over.  Didn’t have that before.  Not like this.”

The fact of the matter is that Ron is  home now, and he did–  He made it back home, back here , to him like he’d promised him before he left, in every call, every letter.  He promised he’d come back and here he was, in front of him, a touch less warm than he had been and so, so real .  Finally.  Frowning hard, he awkwardly shuffles to turn and look at Ron  for a  long, hard moment staring him down searchingly.  “And now that there is?  Is…  Is this still what you want?”

“Yes,” he offers after a moment, “It is.  You  are,” he says more firmly, squeezing his hand tightly in his own.  

“Being here and being,” he pauses, glancing irritatedly at a few passers by strolling too close for comfort, safety even, despite the uniform across from him.  “ Unified ,” he settles on, frowning.  “Are not mutually exclusive.  If you’re here, you’re here .  Okay?”  His words come out more pleading than he had meant them to,  At the softer, more apologetic look that Ron gives him, he could kick himself.

“Of course, I’m here–”

“It’s three days before Christmas, Ron.  You almost weren’t .” he huffs again, shivering with a wince as another wind blows past them. 

He watches as Ron rubs his face with a sigh.  “I know, Car, I was there.  Look, if we have to argue about this, let’s do it inside.  You’re freezing .”

The reproachful look that Carwood manages, scrunched up and shivering, is surprisingly graceful, considering he looks  like if Nanook of the North had been forgotten in a snow drift at least one full winter ago.  “...You know, you make it impossible to tell whether or not you’re being earnest or bullshitting.  Let’s go before I’m actually  frozen to the station bench.

~*~

The house itself is decorated nicely, lights twinkling, garland strung - and getting all over hell’s half-acre with Walter’s help - and all manner of old, family heirlooms that had been passed on to them set out on shelves and side tables.  Old photos mostly, along with a small christmas village overlooking the expanse of their comfortable, if humble living room.  By the time the second delay had rolled around, as he had indeed suspected that it might, he’d simply caved in and set up. 

Bittersweet as it may have been, getting in to and setting up their home all on his own, it was kind of nice getting to watch as Ron took it all in as they turned down the road to their quiet neighborhood.  Pushed towards the outskirts of town, past the neatly, if tightly packed in suburbs and giving way to more substantial, if a tad uneven yards backed against tall, swaying trees and the occasional overgrown field. 

It was easier, simply being themselves in places where they were afforded more space.  Ron hadn’t taken any particular way towards people even prior to the war.  However, for safety and the simple, hopeful avoidance of entirely unnecessary headaches , Carwood had argued that the space was essential.  As for himself, his hopes for fruitful soil and space enough for a sizable garden had been easily met.  He’d had a surprisingly prosperous season, having gotten a later start than most, but it was more than enough for good canning stock.  Vegetable soups, pickled cabbage and pasta sauces are packed tightly into two neatly organized shelves, of which he was very proud.

As they turned down the little winding road up to their simple, sun bleached, vaguely yellow house, out of the corner of his eye, Carwood can see Ron’s expression fall briefly, frowning in turn as he seems to shrink back against the car seat.  His brows knit together worriedly and he taps his thumb against the steering wheel rhythmically as they slow to a stop in their driveway, turning the car off. 

For a long moment, they simply sit in the warm cab of the car, Carwood with his hands lingering on the wheel, frowning straight ahead to the gaps in the close knit trees as they began to fade into view from the darkness, and Ron picking at an old scar on his hand, his gloves having long since been folded into his lap.  The tension is so thick that it’s practically syrupy as it blankets itself over them, settling into all of the little nooks and crannies.  But the simple sound of the snow falling gently against the car in the great vacuum of the void that held them close in the outskirts of town, at their little home was just as comforting in the same breath. 

“I’m sorry, Carwood.” Ron offers quietly at long last, turning to look at him for the first time in what felt like hours.  Hesitantly, Carwood pulls his gaze away from the deadlocked doom stare of dead ahead and frowns in turn as he looks at Ron.  And really, isn’t this what he’d wanted, for the longest time?  To just be able to just as much as look at him again, in the flesh where he could touch him, take in the warm comfort of the smell of his cologne on his skin.  Kiss him, even.  “Yeah?  Fer what, Sparky?” he asks gently, easing his hands off of the steering wheel to slide closer and grab his hands gently to hold in his own.

“For not being here.  I should’ve–  I shouldn’t have stayed behind,” he says in a low, frustrated huff, clenching and unclenching his jaw tensely as he glares out the windshield for a long moment.  He eases slowly as Carwood gingerly runs his thumb over the back of his hand, settling on a scowl that would’ve been menacing if it had had the proper heat, but doesn’t look back and shakes his head. 

“This was important -” he begins again, before Carwood cuts him off.

“Yes.  It was.” he interjects curtly, gaze hardening briefly as Ron’s own sinks again.  “It is something that we had been looking forward to for a long time.  Had been working towards for months, and I know it’s weird, Ron, I do,” he says, tone easing lightly.  “Going from what we saw and did, what we went through to being able to afford to just think about mundane shit like what’s for dinner, or how long it might take to shovel out the driveway feels startlingly like you’re out of some sort of loop.  And…  For a while, yeah; you are ,” he continues with a heavy sigh through his nose.  “But honey, you’re here now .  As frustrated with you as I am, you’re home and safe and I can afford to be irritated because I finally have you back.”

“I know!  I know ,” Ron sighs, pulling his hands back to tuck them against his sides, crossing his arms.  “I know, and I’m sorry, okay?  I…  I didn’t want to miss it, there were just things that needed my attention.  It would’ve been worse to just leave them like that.” he defends with an awkward grimace.  Sure, technically speaking his expertise was a valuable asset to the company and he generally aimed to simply get through to the next part.  If his efforts should be exceptional, well then, there you have it.  However, to say it was explicitly necessary wasn’t quite true.  Both of them knew as much.

As if simply trading off, Carwood’s own expression falls in turn, his teeth gritting together almost painfully as he shakes his head.  “Okay,” is all he says after a long sigh, rubbing his hands over his face firmly.  “Okay.  Y’had to stay; it was also important for whatever it was that needed done.  We’ll leave it at that.” he offers tiredly, reaching for the door handle and stopping short.  Turning to look back over at Ron, taking in all the mixed feelings of stress and frustration, a shock of hurt and just so much discomfort it was practically running out of his ears, he can’t help easing up further as a little of his resolve begins to crumble. 

A wave of guilt washes through him and sinks to the pit of his stomach like a rock, radiating outwards uncomfortably.  “That wasn’t fair,” he says more gingerly, reaching out to him again.  “I’m sorry.  I know it's…  It’s harder, for you.  I know things weren’t really easy before all of this, either.  But I promise, this will feel like home, too.  If you let it.” 

His hand finds the curve of his cheek easily as he slides over to him fully across the bench seat, leaning in to kiss him gently for the first time in nearly a year.  He presses further kisses to the corner of his mouth, over his cheeks, against the bridge of his nose until the hard frown eases, first to a slight downturn, then to a weakly begrudging smile.  He grins in turn at the feeling of Ron’s lips pressing against his own in turn.

Being out in the countryside as they were had its perks, this being chief among them.  He makes a soft, surprised noise in the back of his throat as he feels warm, strong arms loop around him, pulling him in closer still and half into Ron’s lap for good measure.  It’s not the most comfortable leg position, probably, but if it mattered for even a moment, the thought was dashed away by more heated, fevered kisses as their lips meet again more firmly.  He sighs softly against him as Ron bites his lower lip, tugging with a pointy grin.  His cheeks burn so brightly that he has to glance away.  He rolls his eyes lightly at the soft huff of laughter that ghosts over his neck, shivering as warm lips press against the soft skin of his neck. 

“I take it you missed me, then?” Carwood snorts as he reaches up a hand to thread his fingers into Ron’s finely groomed hair.  The look Ron gives him in turn is a hungry one, made all the more poignant at the sudden shift and dip down into the seat.  He can practically feel his blush blazing its way all down his neck as his back rests comfortably against the long bench seat.  “Could say that.” is Ron’s muffled reply, busy sinking his teeth lightly into the soft skin of his throat.

“Fuck me running.” he returns ellegantly.

~*~

Stumbling inside, he barks a laugh at the soft curse under Ron’s breath as the door slams shut behind them from the kick, stamping out any following thoughts he may have had by pulling him in close again, kissing him hungrily.  “It’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he soothes, hooking a finger through his belt loop easily.  “You’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“Mm, that so?” Ron grins, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m afraid it is.  Been put off for far too long, really, so you’ll simply have to take your time.” he continues airily and waving a hand with a light shrug. 

“I’ve got nothin’ but time, especially for you.” Ron practically purrs as he leans in to kiss him again before pulling back and simply scooping Carwood up and making a beeline towards their bedroom.

~*~

Clad in surprisingly comfortable tartan pajama pants and rubbing a towel one final time over his shower damp hair before hanging it up, Ron frowns lightly at Carwood’s apparent absence from the bathroom.  The faint, chipper tune of Christmas carols greets him as he steps out, wandering slowly through the distantly familiar home, looking.  He takes in the lovingly arranged, framed photos of family and loved ones through the hall, and the soft crackle of the record player as he finds himself back in the living room. 

Empty, save for Walter, who raises his head curiously and stares at him for a long moment before slowly thunking his tail loudly against the floor in dozy, if cheery excitement before getting up with slow, all but luxuriously lazy stretches and tip-tapping over with a soft ‘ boof ’ as way of greeting.  He promptly flops down, half against his legs, mostly on his feet with his tail still wagging loudly against the floor and anything else unfortunate enough to be in the path.  “Hey you,” he offers quietly, crouching down with a grin to pet him slowly along his side, his free hand moving to scratch behind his ears slowly.  “Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes, huh?  Weren’t much bigger than a bump on a log last time I saw ya.  How’d you get so big, huh?”

Walter’s responding face lick makes him laugh, leaning away easily before he can go in for another.  “Yeah, yeah, I know.  Missed you, too.” he huffs, leaning in to bonk their heads together lightly.  “How’s about we go find Carwood?  Maybe we’ll get lucky and find you a treat, while we’re at it.” he continues, getting up.  The word treat is barely past his lips before Walter see-saws his way back up awkwardly, big paws pounding heartily against their hardwood floors as he takes off in the direction of the kitchen with Ron following shortly after.

The pair of them find him in the kitchen, mug in hand, leaning back against the kitchen island as he watches the falling snow through their kitchen window.  It’s hard to make out any strictly discernable distance for the surrounding space, but soft, almost cotton ball sized snowflakes drift past the window slowly and settle against the sill as others fall to blanket the ground just that much more thickly.  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he hums softly, gaze still lingering as the pair of them elect to flank either side of him.  Ron hums noncommittally as he curls his arm around his waist, leaning in to press a kiss to his shoulder gently. 

“From in here?  Of course.” Ron grins, moving to press another kiss to his temple.  Carwood huffs a soft laugh before finally tearing his gaze away from the window to Ron, setting the mug atop the island.  “It is much nicer when you don’t have to dig a foxhole, I’ll admit.  It…  Took a while to get used to it again.  It’s surprisingly disorienting, expecting things to go flying at the drop of a hat, but they just…  Don’t.” he murmurs. 

Turning to lean into him, his own arms wind their way around him in turn as he rests his cheek against his shoulder.  “I missed you.  It was…  It was hard, not having you here when it felt like I was still there, for brief little lapses of time.  It felt so, so much like I was supposed to just look up and see you sprinting across the field,” he chuckles, relaxing into him as he feels Ron’s big, warm hand rubbing slow circles against his back.  “Sometimes I’d swear I could hear the trees cracking, but…  They’re just as sturdy as ever.”

He smiles half against the bare skin of his shoulder as a kiss is placed atop his head, lingering for a moment.  “I missed you, too, sweetheart.” Ron offers finally, squeezing his arms around him gently.  “Every day, always.” 

“I know the feeling.”

“I…  It’s later than I wanted to be, but,  I’m here, Car.  I promise.  If the trees start goin’, then right here with you is where I’ll be.  Even if they don’t, there’s no place in this world I would  wanna be if you’re not there with me.” Ron murmurs as he rests his cheek against his hair.  “It feels like I spent a whole lifetime wanting to be here, home, where you are.  I want to spend the rest of mine not missing out on any more of it.”

“Ron…” Carwood breathes, pulling back to look at him, half searching.  “I…  I love you.  More than anything, and here is exactly where I want you to be.  I don’t want to do this without you and, I know its a little horrible, but I’m glad that I don’t have to.  No matter how much time it takes to adjust, I’m just grateful that you made it back to me.”

“Of course I came back, honey, you’ve been here waitin’ for me.  I had a promise to keep.” he hums, smiling softly.  Carwood hugs him more tightly, burying his face against the curve of his neck.  Beside them, Walter half flops against their legs again, his head leaning back to rest against Carwood’s thigh as his thick tail whips around to hit Ron’s ankle with a soft whine that makes the pair of them laugh.  “Oh lord , Walt, were we not paying attention to you?” Carwood chuckles, reaching down semi-awkwardly to pet his head. 

Ron winces at the rapid up-tick in tail excitement.  “Maybe we should go back to bed.” he offers pragmatically, very carefully moving to try and extract the pair of them.  Not to be deterred, Walter does try and continue slumping against them, but gives in just before flopping over into the vacated space.  All the better to follow along after as they make their way back to their bed, Ron’s arm around Carwood’s shoulders, and Carwood’s arm looped around his waist in turn.

Clothes still flung haphazardly onto the floor, with one spectacularly flung shirt still hanging off of the back of the desk chair, Ron pulls back the bedding with a dramatic, joking flourish for him, grinning.  “What a ham.” Carwood snorts fondly.  He leans in to kiss his cheek before moving to settle in, cheeks coloring a faint pink as Ron leans in to kiss his lips once, twice, before pulling back just enough to kiss his cheeks sweetly.  “I love you.” he breathes, kissing his forehead gingerly.

Carwood is left to simply gaze after him, a little slack jawed as he crosses over to the formerly painfully vacant side of the bed to take up the space.  Briefly, he watches as he settles in before scooching down into their comfortable sheets beside him, rolling to smile almost unreadably in turn.  “I love you, too, Ron.” he murmurs. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” he muses back to him softly, onto his side to gaze back at him from under his dark lashes.  He smiles warmly as their hands move to bridge the short distance between them, followed by arms, legs, their torsos pressing flush against one another as they fold into one another carefully.  “Dunno, the whole sprinting across Foy thing was pretty fuckin’ impressive.” Carwood suggests, muffling his quiet laughter against Ron’s chest.  “Can’t rightly say you’re the lucky one, considering I got you back in one piece.”

“Maybe it's both of us.  With all that’s happened, all that we survived, whatever is just over the horizon…  I’ve got you,” Ron murmurs gently after a long, quiet moment, leaning in to kiss him sweetly.  “And you’ve got me.  For all that the world has had to offer, and for whatever it’ll try and throw next, we’ll see it through together.  I promise.”