Work Text:
The common room is quiet, dark, illuminated only by the images on the television. You're curled up on the end of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, arms locked around them.
"You're still awake?"
You look away from the TV to see one Jake "Hangman" Seresin leaning in the doorway arms crossed. He's in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, completely causal and still breathtakingly gorgeous.
"Can't really sleep." You say, turning your attention back to the show.
"Would you like someone to sit with? I can't really sleep either." When you shrug, he crosses into the room sitting to you on the couch. The space and quiet between you is comfortable.
It's halfway through a second episode of the Andy Griffith show when you finally get up the nerve to speak. "It's the first year I can't go home to visit family for the holidays."
You can feel him watching you, before he drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you to him in a hug. "Where's home?"
"Upstate New York." You say, finding yourself leaning into his embrace. He’s so warm and solid, comforting. The two of you had fallen into an easy friendship, and though you wondered what more might look like with him, you weren’t going to make the move. “Kind of hard to get in the holiday spirit surrounded by beaches and palm trees.”
“I can understand that.” Jake says. His fingertips are brushing your upper arm, and the gentle touch is distracting, and at the same time infuriatingly not enough. “My mom drags out the garland and makes swags after all the Thanksgiving dishes are done. My dad hauls out the two artificial trees, and we go and get a live one December 3rd without fail.”
“Three trees?”
“Texas.” He says. “We’re very Texas.”
“After the big snows, my friends and I go for sleigh rides. Outside of town there’s a family run business that does them. We’ve done it since middle school, it’s almost like a rite of passage.”
“My sisters and I like to go snowshoeing when we get the good stuff.” Jake says. “One year we went out so far, we were too tired to come back. Mom had to come out and get us, and she hates driving in the snow.”
“My mom would have told us to make our way back anyway.” You can’t help but chuckle.
“We met her halfway.” Jake says. He’s quiet for a few moments, pulling you closer. Hesitantly you rest your head on his shoulder, and he sighs softly, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “Bobby Floyd and his girlfriend are throwing a get together Friday night. Would you like to come with me? Might help a little bit.”
“I’d love to,” and you would. Oh, would you love to go see Jake and the others let their hair down and have fun. Maybe let your own hair down and get into the mood to celebrate. “I have duty.”
“Hmm.” Another long pause, and you curl a little closer, the fabric of his sweatshirt so soft. “You have plans Sunday?”
“Not yet.”
“You do now.” He says, “I’ve got an idea. Just, just go with it okay?”
“Do I get to know any of this plan?”
“Dress warm and trust me.”
“Mysterious.” You yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. “I am suspicious.”
“What you are, is tired.” He says. “Come on, let’s go bunk down before we fall asleep here.”
The next few days, as well as your duty shift pass achingly slow. The curiosity about Jake’s plan turning over and over in your thoughts. After your morning shower you pull on a pair of jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved shirt, carrying a hoodie when you met up with Jake.
He's smiling, that brilliant grin, bouncing on his heels. You both load into his truck he drives. The city fades away into the rolling countryside, before giving way to the evergreen forest and crisp mountain air. Pine and fir trees tower along the dirt road, dusting of snow giving way to actual accumulation.
“Where are we?” You blink, wiping your eyes. Somewhere on the highway you had fallen asleep.
“Honestly, it’s a tourist trap, but it’s a winter village.” Jake says. “There’s a traditional Santa, the holiday fair type things. And” he says, pulling into the parking lot. “Sleigh rides.”
“Are you kidding me?” Excitement bubbled up in your chest, spilling into your voice. “Really? You-you did this for me?”
“Of course. It’s hard enough this time of year, it’s not fair to miss things too.” Jake unbuckles his seatbelt getting out of the truck and coming over to your side of the vehicle. That beautiful, brilliant smile is back, and it’s warmer than any clothing you’ve brought with you.
The two of you wander around the village, and you can’t help but be caught up in the entire experience. There are people dressed in costumes, festive food, music, decorations. It was magical and captivating. Some of the weight lifted off your shoulders, and you find yourself humming along with some of the music. After the two of you explore, find snacks, split hot chocolate and a few other special treats, you find yourself in the queue for the sleigh rides.
Jake helps you into the sleigh, settling in next to you. The driver arranges a heavy blanket over your laps, before he takes his seat. The entire thing is beautiful, hand carved, gilded with gold, painted a beautiful cherry red. The blanket is heavy, woolen and cozy. You settle in closer to Jake, the sleigh jerking gently when the pair of horses started on their path.
Bells jingle on their harnesses, the sleigh glides over the snow, the trail winding through the woods. It’s quiet and serene, and you can’t help but smile when Jake’s hand finds yours, your fingers lacing together under the blanket. You lean against him, head resting against his shoulder. You can smell the peppermint from the candy cane he had eaten, coffee, and under that something that’s decidedly just Jake.
“Thank you.” It’s not enough, but it’s all you can manage.
It's over entirely too soon, but nearly forty-five minutes had passed. Jake helps you out of the sleigh, keeping a hold of your hand as you navigate through the crowds, looking at the vendors that you missed on your way to the sleigh ride. He holds onto the shopping bags with his other hand, and once everything’s loaded into the truck, he pauses.
Pulls you in for a hug. One of those all-enveloping, tight hugs. You’re pressed close to him, his breath warm, slow and even against your neck. One hand pressed to the small of your back, the other between your shoulder blades. You sigh softly, feeling every inch of him against you. Jake is so warm and comforting, and you feel your sadness bubble up and evaporate when he squeezes you just a bit tighter.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. It was my pleasure.”
/end