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“Decorate the Christmas tree,” Fang sings to the tune of Deck the Halls. Izzy made the mistake of telling him he's allowed to decorate and now every single box has been pulled out of the basement.
It isn't that Izzy is against Christmas. He doesn't actually care one way or another what they celebrate, he just doesn't understand spending an entire day throwing up tinsel and Rudolph tchotkes only to take it down barely a month later. But what makes Fang happy, he’s willing to do, as evident by him being surrounded by a yard of tangled up string lights.
“Thought you put these back the right way last year,” he grumbles, fingers deftly wiggling knots out of each section. His humbuggery is ignored, though, as Fang opens a box of decorations to look through.
For the first time in years they bought a real tree. Needles were already littering the floor, but the smell alone was well worth it, earthy and fresh.
“Should we put out the dancing Santa again?”
Izzy side-eyes him. Of course they should put out the dancing Santa. The dancing Santa was his favorite decoration. Santa in black sunglasses and a saxophone with his usual red and white ensemble, rocking his butt back and forth as he plays a jazzy Christmas tune. How could they not show that off to the two people that visit their home?
Fang holds the decoration up, pressing the little red button. Santa begins his tune, shaking his hips back and forth in time with the beat. Fang follows suit, rocking his own hips back and forth with a spirited giggle. It takes all of Izzy’s strength not to jump him as he chuckles, shaking his head.
Once one string of lights is down, he begins another. It's absolutely painful having to go through each knot, making sure not to reknot each section he's already worked on. This year will be different, he’ll be around when Fang cleans all this shit up and he’ll put away the lights himself so he knows it's done correctly.
Fang’s back to his box a moment later, lifting out little blocks that spell Merry Christmas and miniature versions of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer characters from inside. He sets them up lovingly in a little scene on the fireplace, moving them when he doesn't quite like the configuration.
“Still don't know why any of this matters. No one's going to see it anyway.”
“We'll see it, Ebenezer. It's about tradition.” He did seem to love those, “plus, doesn't this time of year just…give you a buzz?”
“Only when I drink.”
Fang’s shoulders drop and he eyes Izzy incredulously as he unboxes a nativity scene, why they had it was anyone’s clue, “where's your sense of wonder? Santa’s coming!”
Izzy snorts, “there's only one man with a big white beard that I want coming this year.”
“In front of baby Jesus?” Fang gasps, holding up the small hay filled cradle. “Izzy.”
Another line of lights done, one more to go, “another man who likes to watch me while I sleep. Never understood that, either. Why would Santa or Jesus want to know what I get up to? Perverts, the fucking lot of them.”
“To know if you've been bad or good. Personally, I like it when you're bad.”
Izzy smirks down at his tangled lights.
It takes four hours and a carton of egg nog for them to finish. Halfway through decorating the tree, Fang starts crying over the first ornament they ever bought, a small house shaped decoration with ‘our first house’ inside. He remembers that they bought it for their first apartment, the shithole with a broken toilet and cockroaches. They couldn't even afford an actual tree to put the stupid thing on, but it still felt right for them to buy.
“Will it make you feel better to put the star on top this year?”
“I'm not sad, Izzy. I'm happy. We have so much to be grateful for. A full, warm house. Beautiful partners. A real Christmas tree.” He pauses, running a meaty finger along the faded words, “we really made it, haven't we?”
Izzy stares at Fang in silent wonder. They've had similar conversations before, about how lucky they were to be where they are, but he's never thought too much about it until now. He suddenly realizes that for the past two years, he hasn't waited for the other shoe to drop. Fight or flight rarely shows up, his sense of security like a warm fucking blanket. Isn't that what everyone strives for?
“Yeah,” he nods, his eyebrows loosening as he relaxes. “I guess we have.” Izzy looks to the tree in front of them, red, blue and green lights twinkling between shiny gold ornaments, “fucking weird, isn't it?”
Fang drapes his arm around Izzy’s shoulders, pulling him in tightly. He kisses his temple as Izzy snuggles in close, “it's fucking wonderful.”