Work Text:
Winters in Wyoming were brutal, the snows setting in early this year, and with it came a whole heap of problems. It caught a lot of people off guard, and while things were handled on yours and Rhett’s little homestead—often after the chores and work were finished, you and Rhett would separate to go help neighbors.
Rhett was waiting on the porch swing when you pulled up in front of the house. He’s bundled in a heavy jacket, knit cap pulled low on his head. He smiles when you get out of the car, heading up the stairs to the house. “I got done early, so I was hopin’ we could go do something.”
“Yeah?” You arch your eyebrow at him, a smile of your own playing on your features. It made the last three hours of crawling through old Mrs. Fletcher’s dusty, spider ridden attic digging out extra blankets for her worth it. He reaches for you, pulling you between his legs, his head resting on your chest. You toy with the pieces of hair that stick out under the cap, and he rumbles softly.
“What do you have in mind, cowboy?”
“Want to go pick out a tree?” He looks up at you, and he looks so tired, but there’s a brightness to his eyes and a playful note in his voice that you can’t ignore. “I bought some lights. And a box of ornaments. Not a lot, but it’ll be ours.”
Ours. Your smile grows at that, this was the first Christmas you were spending together as a couple in your own space. “We going to the you-cut place, or the tree stall that the boy scouts put out?”
“Boy scouts.” Rhett says, “we can get something to eat in town too.”
“Date night,” you hold out your hand, helping him to his feet.
“Sounds about right, darlin’.” Rhett tips your chin up, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. He keeps a hold of your hand, helping you into his truck. The engine roars to life, and he cranks the heat. Once you’re on the road, his hand rests on the bench seat, palm up, and you slot your fingers through his.
His thumb smooths over the back of your hand, and he’s humming along with Wynona Judd on the radio. It’s not the first time, and certainly won’t be the last, you’re struck by how much you love this man. He’s gentle, giving and so very loving, a bit rough around the edges, but with him—you’re safe and home.
It's snowing gently when Rhett pulls the truck into a parking spot along the sidewalk. You walk hand in hand with Rhett toward a roughhewn wooden fence set up in the center of town, various trees leaning against it. The boy scouts had set up shop the day after Thanksgiving, and the community had come out in force to support the youth.
After a few laps around the enclosure, Rhett stops, pointing at one. “I think that’s it.” He lets go of your hand, gently pulling the tree away from the fence. It’s a bit taller than Rhett with strong, fluffy branches, a beautiful deep green. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re right.” It’s beautiful and will be perfect for the spot you’ve picked out mentally for it. He picks it up with a grunt, carrying it over to the cluster of scouts that were roughhousing in the snow. Three scouts carry the tree to Rhett’s truck once it’s wrapped in netting, placing it in the bed, the two of you following.
“Dinner?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your temple, once the boys have scampered away.
“We could just get something through the drive through. I want to get it home.” Excitement bubbles in your tummy, spilling into your voice.
“You just read my mind darlin’.” Burgers, fries and milkshakes acquired the ride home passes quickly. Once home, Rhett hauls the tree into the house, and you bring in the bag of lights and ornaments from the truck.
The two of you wrestle with it to get it into the stand, eventually wrangling the tree into the spot that you had set aside for it. The lights go on easily, and the gentle illumination of the clear lights transform the living room into a magical space. Rhett hugs you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder, as you stand together basking in the gentle glow.
“I’ll start a fire, and you put the baubles on.” He says, planting a kiss on the curve of your neck. He squeezes you gently before untangling himself, going to fuss with the fireplace. Carefully, you hang the glass bulbs on the tree, still caught up in the sparkle of the lights, and the play of that light against the glass. The silver, gold and pale blue ornaments are simple, but it suits the tree—the two of you.
You turn to pick up the empty boxes to find that Rhett had already cleared them away. He’s sitting on the floor, blanket on his shoulders, a mug in his hand. He crooks a finger toward you, and you join him, cuddling up under the blanket. He hands you a mug full of steaming hot coffee, his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. Rhett’s head drops onto your shoulder, leaning heavily against you as his breathing evens out. Gently, you maneuver him to the floor, his head in your lap, fingers petting through his hair as he sleeps, the light play against the angles of his face, and you lean down, kissing his cheek.
/end