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Tim has never felt so objectified by his boyfriend.
(Well, besides that time Brian had Jay wrapped around his little finger and they were on a workout craze together, so Jay dragged him along to the gym and forced him to lift weights while Jay ‘spotted’ him… more like ‘stand there and drool while not working out at all’.)
Funny thing is he’s about as bundled up as a man could get in the middle of Alabama.
One red flannel shirt, given to him by one selfish but well-meaning boyfriend. One long black sleek jacket that expands his shoulders to an alarming size. One green scarf, knit by his best friend’s amateur hands but boy if Tim didn’t cry when Brian presented it to him.
Even Tim has to admit that he looks dashing, catching a glimpse of himself in his car window. But Jay hasn’t torn his eyes away from him once since they drove out to-- yes, of all places, Rosswood Park.
(It was Jay’s idea.)
(“We need a Christmas tree, Tim. We never have one up and it’s probably, like, illegal,” he’d fussed, tugging at Tim’s sleeve. He demanded attention, as he always does whenever Tim is attempting to handle paperwork for Party Animals. This time he was close to winning Tim’s focus. It’s difficult to ignore a full grown man wearing a pair of false pointy ears and a long green cap. Where exactly did he find that? Did he make it on his own?)
(“It’s not illegal, Jay. It’s also expensive.”)
(“…it’s illegal in my heart.”)
(Tim was two seconds from slamming his forehead to his desk; Jay couldn’t be more overdramatic if he tried.)
(“Jay. I’d think that just saying it’s expensive would be enough to get you to understand.”)
(Blue eyes gleamed as Jay inched in closer, lips close to his ear, hovering over Tim’s work desk. His shadow was blocking out Tim’s papers, testing his failing eyesight and his new glasses.)
(“I found an axe in your garage.”)
It’s Tim’s day off, and he’s willingly heading out to the very forest that most of his personal hell took place in. Great idea. Wonderful. Jay is lucky he loves him. Not to mention that he’s actually pretty smart sometimes.
Brian agreed with the outing, and so is currently stumbling out of the back of the car, red puffy jacket inhibiting his movements. Exposure therapy, he’d said, it’s highly effective and it can’t hurt to start to associate Rosswood with some /good/ memories. Tim couldn’t argue with the therapist-in-training, or, he could have but Jay was bouncing around the house like a fucking five year old and he can never say no to him in this state.
“Of course it’s snowing, why wouldn’t it be? Of course,” Brian announces once he’s free of the car’s surly bonds, both feet on the parking lot asphalt. He glares up at the heavens, shaking his head. “Global warming is a fickle mistress.”
“Global warming is inevitable from what I know and we might as well enjoy a little bit of cold while we can,” Jay says. He’s still bouncing on the balls of his feet, hasn’t stopped bouncing once since they decided to fetch a tree from the soil of Mother Earth herself. “How often do we get to wear our nice coats?”
Tim knows when he’s being talked about. Especially when the person talking is eyeing him up like Christmas dinner. He rolls his eyes, while silently adjusting his coat’s collar to sit better. It’s hard to bite back the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips when he sees Jay’s face redden.
He could be blushing, but then again, it’s pretty fucking windy out. Tim wishes he’d brought a hat like Jay.
Even then, he can see Jay struggling to keep his baseball cap on, has his fingers pinched over the brim so it can’t fly away in the breeze. Tim comes up behind him, gently placing a gloved hand on his shoulder so he can push him to walk forward into the trees. Brian waddles up behind them, clutching the axe, shouldering it so he can text away on his phone. Probably to his new classmates, talking about his gay roommates being extra gay and getting a Christmas tree together.
“I remember the pine trees being pretty close to the entrance of the park,” Tim announces as a means of guidance. Both Brian and Jay nod, but now that their boots are crunching through the dead familiar grass, they are suddenly so very quiet.
It’s then Tim knows he has to stay strong.
“How big are we thinking?” Tim asks, voice lowering now that the trees are blocking the wind. Branches creak and hiss at the cold touch of the breeze, but now that he doesn’t have a second voice whispering in his ear, he can reason it away. That murmuring? It’s a squirrel escaping the chill, running down a tree limb and bending it to its limit.
Jay pauses, gazing at their surroundings. The soil is a muddy mixture of brown and white now, quickly accumulating snow settling on the dirt. His eyes aren’t on the mess at their feet, though, no, he’s looking to the dead leafless trees. They’re easily all taller than the highest ceiling in Tim’s home; he better not be--
“I wish we could get one that’s like, twenty feet high.”
Goddammit. Tim squeezes his shoulder, unable to dig his fingers in when they’re covered up like this.
“Put it out of your mind.”
“I know, I know,” Jay grumps, mumbling under his breath. He continues to move forward. Brian keeps up the rear, taking photographs as they go. The phone clicks, clicks, clicks, and Tim fights away the thought that comes to him then--
(A black figure, standing between two black trees, hard to make out but there’s no denying its humanoid shape and the tilt of its oval head.)
--Because that won’t happen, no.
He feels Jay utter a shaky breath, and presses a kiss to his cheek.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, we do, I want to,” Jay insists. He tenses under Tim’s touch, not because of him but he takes his hand back nonetheless. Moving ahead, Jay takes the lead, looking back to Tim for directions. “Not too much farther, I hope?”
Tim nods, affirming. He puts his hands in his pockets, to keep from grabbing Jay up, let him move about on his own.
(Before, he’d see Jay strolling ahead, alone, seemingly random in his movements. It’s almost too easy to imagine his legs threatening to give out, his voice blubbering, calling out for Tim. Drunk, lost, afraid, wondering if he’ll ever find his way home.)
(He’s better now.)
(Tim knows that. He’s still afraid sometimes.)
“You good?”
Brian appears at his side, phone finally pocketed. Is he tense, or did his shoulders always appear to be that high in his jacket? He keeps close, burying his nose in his scarf for a moment of reprieve from the breeze that breaks past the trees.
“I’m good as I can get around here,” Tim replies truthfully. No point hiding from Brian.
“Yeah, same here,” Brian nods, eyes flicking side to side before coming back to Jay. He keeps a careful watch on the wandering man, who must be off in his own world, seeing this place through old experienced eyes. “…I don’t even remember this place, like, properly. I know it exists, I know I’ve been here in body, but not really in mind. Y’know?”
“Oh, fuck yeah.” Tim snorts, shaking his head. “I was here more times out of my skull than I was as myself.”
(The sensation of this place, the first time he came here without a mask, it was familiar and horrific and sickening. Tim fell to his knees and let his stomach empty out onto the dirt.)
(Does Brian feel it now?)
Tim places a hand in the middle of his back. Brian doesn’t shrug him away.
“Jay’s doing well,” Brian comments, nodding toward the man as he heads toward the nearest patch of pines. He glances back to Tim, pulling half a smile. “So are you.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning to have a meltdown in the middle of the woods-- but I guess you don’t really plan that,” Tim says, eyeing Jay as he comes to a pause beside a particularly tiny tree. He comes down on his haunches, observing the dwarfish thing. “But, uh, I appreciate it.”
Brian brings the axe down from his shoulder, chipping at a nearby tree sapling that’s not going to survive the winter. It flops over before he can give his chops any real power. He looks over the so-called destruction with wide eyes, glancing down at the axe and chuckling after a moment.
“Do we want this one?” he asks Jay, and of course he must be facetious but when those blue eyes fix on the little mess Brian has made, Tim can tell he’s actually considering it. Brian must see that too because he’s quick to retract his suggestion, tucking the axe over his shoulder again. “Though, uh, I don’t think we could decorate it too much. The branches would all snap off.”
Jay’s face sinks in disappointment before he gives a dejected nod of agreement. He returns his attentions to the small tree he’s found. Taking one low branch between his fingers, he gives it a gentle tug, testing its strength. There’s a bit of a smile playing on his lips, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.
He’s so quiet, so concentrated, Tim can’t take his eyes off him. He’s having his own experience over there, and Tim would hate himself if he were to ruin that for Jay.
“Kind of a relief, the whole, uh, not melting down thing,” Tim mutters to Brian, tilting his head so that only he can hear him. “We’ve had Christmases before, him and I, like when we visited your house for the holidays, but not really put any effort into it. I don’t wanna ruin this for him.”
Brian hums thoughtfully. Tim prepares himself for a lecture; he’s seen that face before while Brian was reading from one of his overly expensive textbooks.
“Pressure to keep cheerful over the holidays for the sake of others is actually a big part of the overall holiday stress,” Brian shares as though he’s reciting out of those very books. He reaches to push up glasses that aren’t there, a charming and knowing smile giving away that, yes, he’s aware that he’s a huge nerd. “You’re stressed out because you don’t feel happy enough, you stress yourself out more forcing yourself to pretend to be happy, and then you’re stressed because you’re keeping it all to yourself.”
Tim stares.
“I’m gonna shove you in a locker,” he says decisively, satisfied when Brian laughs at him. “But seriously, I want to give him a good Christmas, to make up for this. I didn’t really think about it before but I guess this is why I agreed to… all this.” He waves to their surroundings, to the trees that were once so threatening that are now soft and glowing under the touch of snow. “So I’m glad you’re helping out. Makes it easier.”
There’s a brief silence where the pair of them watch Jay walk circles around the tree he’s so diligently observing. It’s pretty clear to Tim that he’s already made his choice but he isn’t going to rush Jay.
“…well, that’s good to know. I never had any practice with the Christmas thing considering I was raised Jewish.”
Maybe it says something about Tim’s perspective on life that he wasn’t expecting that, and that he needs to open his eyes more. But he really wasn’t expecting it-- he turns to face Brian, eyebrows raised.
“You never told me that.”
“Well, it never seemed very important ‘til now!” Brian laughs, shrugging with both hands in the air. The axe swings dangerously above their heads before he realizes what a hazard he’s causing, and he quickly rests it on the ground to shirk responsibility of it altogether. “My parents don’t really do the religion thing, but they like the idea of Christmas so they throw Christmas parties every year. During Hanukkah though my grandparents stole me over to their house to do that.”
Tim nods slowly, taking it in. He looks to his feet, trying to think of what to say.
“So. Uh. You want a menorah back at the house?”
Brian laughs aloud at that, the sound louder here in this quiet snow-blanketed forest than it would be anywhere else. Tim sighs, warm, wrapped up in his best friend’s joy.
“Maybe I should get back into my roots. Yeah, man, I’d love a menorah.”
Before Tim can so much as get a word in, Jay is rushing to his side, tugging the axe out of the ground. He stumbles backwards from the force of his pulling, only kept upright by Tim’s steadying hand upon his back.
“I found one,” he utters, breath forming clouds. He clutches Tim’s wrist, pushing the axe handle into his hand. “Go get it.”
“Pushy,” Tim says. Not in accusation, but with a knowing smile. He presses his lips to Jay’s cheek before approaching the tree he saw Jay circling, no need to tell him which one he wanted.
As expected, Jay lingers nearby to watch, closer than Tim would like. He has to wave at him, telling him to stand back. Brian joins Jay at his side, phone back out, snapping a ton of photos. Tim decides to oblige him (and give his lovely boyfriend a good show), posing, pausing a moment when he rears his arms back and pulling his face into one of intense concentration. Hell, he even flexes a bit, the months of lifting heavy boxes and stocking back at the store showing, however slightly through his coat.
Jay hops in place, while Brian takes it upon himself to wolf-whistle.
Satisfied, Tim chops away, the pine tree giving way easily under the axe and plummeting to the ground.
It’s less climactic than Tim would have liked-- movies, once again, make something seem much more dramatic than it actually is-- but he supposes he should be happy that Jay picked out a reasonably sized one. The drive back is quick and easy, all three men piling into the car as soon as the tree was shoved into the trunk. Brian happily scrolls through the photos of them he took where they were dragging the tree back out of the forest, showing them off whenever Tim rolls up to a red light.
It isn’t until Tim’s parked the car, and the tree is inside the house that he realizes he all but forgot about the fact that he was just in Rosswood Park, walking around like he had every bit of business being there.
He has his legs tucked under himself, the couch all too comfortable and collecting his heat. Not a single worry. Snow gathers up on the windowsills, framing the outside world, where the grass and trees die while he and his loved ones huddle up inside.
Jay took it upon himself to put a paper star on top first (paper, because they don’t have enough money for ornaments and have to make their own-- time to learn orgami). Tim tried to remind him that the star usually goes on last, but Jay didn’t want to give anyone else the chance to do it.
Tim is thinking about how his boyfriend is sometimes adorably selfish over the smallest of things, over flannel shirts and paper stars, and he can’t find a second to ponder over how he willingly went into Rosswood Park today.
He has to admit it.
That sounds a lot like progress.