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"You put all that scut up, and then what? You gotta remove it in two weeks anyway?"
"I know you probably think it's a waste of time… but I promise, it really adds a lot to the whole thing. Makes it special." You only heard a dry and cut-off chuckle next to you.
Carefully standing on a stepladder, you balanced yourself to put another bauble on the tree. You had to make sure that similar colors weren't adjacent, and that each had enough distance between them. At least, you had a little assistant to help you.
"You're like my own little elf," you confessed in a giggle, turning towards Rocket to grab the next fake-glass sphere he handed out to you.
"What." You heard, but didn't pay much mind to his reaction. "What in the flatnard is that, even?" he asked with an accusing tone, certain that the term you used was some kind of insult. "Ya keep saying stuff I can't understand, ya find that funny or somethin'?"
I can't just dodge his questions… you promised yourself to explain further.
In a sigh, you turned to get another decoration. Your eyes widened, ripping the bored expression off of your face. He had crossed his arms, staring at you.
"Can you just give me another one?" you demanded, his sudden disobedience throwing you out of your thoughts.
He snapped at you, the glow in his eyes moving like flames. "Like I'm your 'little elf'? Ya think I'll just be your slave or what?" Although he was mad, you found it a bit funny that he did understand what the term was about. "I mean… yes. Santa Claus kinda treats elves like slaves I guess…"
You looked away, trying to focus and seem busy organising the tree's composition. You cringed at yourself. I blame him for not being in the Christmas spirit, but I'm not really helping him find any of it enjoyable…
As you turned away, you heard him make an almost inaudible sound. It was between a shocked gasp and a wounded whine, with the usual anger lingering. You bit your lower lip in shame and felt your shoulders tense up as he left the living room, making sure his feet made enough ruckus to shake up the floor. In another context, you would've found his childish reaction endearing, but the weight in your guts made it impossible to laugh at all.
What reassured you the most is the knowledge that you weren't someone who had a hard time asking for forgiveness, especially when you knew something was your fault, and even if you didn't really need to apologise. Though, in that case, you REALLY had to.
As you followed the noise of his steps, you concluded he had confined himself in your bedroom. I'll make him something, you planned, wanting to make him feel better and not let the bitter feelings linger.
You got off the stepladder and walked to the kitchen. Grabbing the kettle, you filled it with water before leaving it on the stove to boil, regulating its power to high. After opening the cabinet in front of you, you looked for his favorite mug, the one he always seemed to choose when you drank a warm beverage together. A bit of uneasiness settled inside you as you realise it wasn't there.
You went back and forth, rushing, trying to find it. You looked everywhere, even going outside to check if he simply left it on the porch. You had to stop eventually, caught up with the faint bubbling of the water echoing inside the metal container. Groaning, you settled for one of yours. It was painted a soft pink, simple but cute. He liked pink, right? you asked yourself, unsure, as he never really mentioned it. Something felt right about it, nonetheless.
You could blame your lady hormones all you wanted, but you still acted like a dick with him for the past few days. It was as if your roles had reversed or something, which could explain why he just stormed off, isolating himself from your bullying. You didn't realise how your funny, or so you thought, bickering would affect him that much. Guess he doesn't like when he's the one getting teased.
You prepared him a hot coffee and added some Baileys cream, an Earther supplement he had started to enjoy during your numerous vacations on your home planet. As you took the mug by its handle, ready to go upstairs and join him, an unsettling and nerve-wracking feeling tried to take control of you. You fought over it, the sadness of leaving your… uh, boyfriend? alone being definitely worse than some pre-confrontation stress.
Your steps were more discreet than his. You didn't want to startle him, and you knew damn well he had heard you coming anyway. The stairs and floor creaked under your weight as you stopped and stood in front of your own bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, you knocked. At that moment, it felt like this place wasn't even your own house, and that you were just some intruder. Unsurprisingly, Rocket didn't answer right away. You knew you'd have to coax him into wanting to speak to you. You also knew that you could use flattery to your advantage, not that it was in a dishonest way. You really loved him.
"Rocket, I'm sorry. I've really, really been a bitch recently." you let silence settle after your first sentence, testing the waters. As he didn't answer, you continued. "You always tell me I should watch my mouth," you tried not to let a giggle out, reminding yourself of a couple of random past moments with him, but cleared your throat and stayed serious. "I should. I think. I should really watch my mouth. I'm not in a really good mood, I guess, recently. I've been trying to get you to like Christmas stuff, but I'm not into it myself… so it's not cool to put you through all that. I know you're trying, at least." Your mouth moved by itself, your mind not even reviewing your thoughts before they spat out of you.
Silence, again. At this point, you wondered if he was even in there, but you didn't let go.
"I fucked up, man. I'm really sorry. We can stop doing all that stupid shit, if that's what you want. I just want us to talk, have a real conversation for once. I brought you coffee."
A second after mentioning the coffee, the door swung open. Oh, he was definitely right behind the door all along.
You looked at eachother. His face showed everything you needed to know. He wasn't sad or anything, it was rare to even see vulnerability on him, but he wasn't impressed by your attempt at reconciliation.
"Ya bribin' me or something? So I can just be your obedient lil… 'elf'?" he said the word like a slur that he wasn't even sure of the pronunciation yet. You closed your eyes, not wanting to roll them in front of him, and kept a sigh to yourself. Opening them again, you didn't let go of the eye contact.
"Elves are also part of the magic; it's not an insult. Usually, they are some little porcelain dolls dressed as jesters… Or clowns if you prefer." He cringed at the word 'clown' as if it reminded him of some bad memories. Before he could get lost in his own thoughts, you brought him back. "When I was a kid, I used to read them bedtime stories, tuck them in, bring them to school and brag about them." You hoped the new comparison was better, even though you knew he didn't like being associated with some doll, either.
Before he could open his mouth, you had to add. "I loved them, genuinely. And I care about you ten times more than that. So… I don't want you to be mad at me, not for that." You felt your cheeks warm up, in shame. Shame of knowing you were in the wrong, and shame of confessing to him like that. "The rest, fine. But please…"
For a second, he saw the shine in your eyes, the way you cringed up. He knew you felt awfully bad, you weren't a bad person. You didn't hurt people on purpose, and even if you did, you'd apologize on your knees to them. That's something he didn't like about you, how easy it was for you to forgive and ask for forgiveness. He bit the inside of his cheek, pondering on what he could even say to you.
He just took the mug out of your hand, analysing it. Pink… did she even know? Probably an accident… he thought, judging the sincerity and thoughtfulness of your actions.
"Fine," he mumbled, stepping out of the doorway for you to enter the room. He walked to your desk, tiptoeing to put the mug on it before moving the chair and sitting on it with the help of a little jump. You sat on your bed in front of him. "So?" he asked, trying to restart the conversation.
"Well, I wanted to know if you even liked what we've been doing since we got here for the holidays," you confessed. "We've both been cranky, at least that's what I think is going on."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, near his eyes, as if to get rid of a headache. Lowering his arm after, he rested his hands on his thighs. He stared at them for a little while before answering.
"Yeah…" he whispered with a raspy voice. "Yeah, we're not really a good match recently." You felt your heart drop, your jaw slacking, giving you a surprised pout. It was the first thing he saw when he raised his head to look up at you, and it made his eyebrows furrow.
"No, no, sweetheart… I don't mean it like that. It's just… we've been alone for the past two weeks. Maybe we needed some space, or somethin'." He tried to reassure you, his tongue clicking against his palate in a discreet tsk, knowing that sounded wrong.
"Probably… but now the day is coming. I don't want us to be mad at eachother." You admitted. "I want to have fun with you, and I want you to be comfortable too."
"I am, okay? Your little comments aren't hurting me… It's mostly fun. Well-"
"Why did you leave then? Don't act tough on me, now."
You thought going back to the subject would make things escalate, but instead, you saw a smile appear on his face. It made your cheeks warm up as butterflies brought themselves to life in your stomach. "Okay, the elf thing kinda pissed me off," he added with a curl of his thin lips.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
"I know, princess," he simply answered, looking away absentmindedly, his smile dropping slowly as silence settled between you two.
You pondered whether or not you should let your heart speak for you, if you should tell him everything you've had in mind about him. The affection you bore for him was too much, at this moment. Your throat felt tight and dry as you pinched your lips together, biting some skin off your mouth.
The heavy sigh you finally let out, reducing the amount of adrenaline in your blood, made his ears perk up. You clearly had something on your mind, and he didn't like the distressed look on your sweet face.
It surprised you to see him rise to feet and walk over to the bed, where you were still sitting. He climbed onto it and ended up laying down next to you. Turning, you questioned him with your eyes, one brow raised. He just shrugged.
"You look like you're the one who needs cuddles in bed this time," he mocked kindly, a shit-eating grin highlighting his facial expression. His teasing made you remember that one time, a week or so ago, where he almost dragged you inside after spending the afternoon in the snow.
After you had gotten inside, Rocket almost ripped his snow suit off his smaller frame while you removed your boots. He was so quick with his own, that he ended up helping you uncover, removing excess snow from your wooly scarf and slighty damp hair. He was so sweet with it too, passing his clawed slender fingers through it, a way to untangle your locks.
When was he ever not sweet, anyway?
As a reward and a mark of your gratitude, you had left a kiss on his snow-wet furry cheek. It only made him stare at you in a way you rarely noticed. It was heavy, anything but predatory. It was filled with the same affection you kept trying to show him all these past months. His hands on your arms traveled back to your hair, on each side of your head.
You felt his claws dig into your scalp, but the slight pain quickly faded when you felt his humid snout collide with your shorter nose. His whiskers tickled your cheeks, and your full lips met his thinner ones.
You felt your heart collapse on itself, imploding but pumping so much blood to your limbs that, you were sure, it would soon not be able to keep up. It felt better than any kind of sexual climax you've ever experienced. Being in love really heightened all of your senses. At this exact moment, you told yourself he was definitely your end game. No other soul would make you feel heaven, not the way he does.
The kiss didn't last long, and it was kept chaste. You felt lightheaded, and the happiest you had been in weeks.
"Christmas is in a week, you could've saved that as my gift," you joked, a silly smile spreading across your face. He shrugged, looking somewhat unaffected by what he had just done.
"Too impatient. You…" he hesitated, eyeing you up with two or three quick looks up and down your body. "You look way too tasty," he confessed, hands hiding in the pockets of his cozy Christmas-themed sweatpants.
If something could shut you up, it was definitely that.
Later on, you guys cuddled up in your bed until dinner time. From this point on, you only remembered him saying "That's what I'm talking about. That's good vacation time," with a satisfied smile.
"Yeah… Maybe I do need that," you answered a couple of seconds later, a blush appearing on your cheeks and cleavage as you replayed the word 'tasty' in your mind, over and over.
You laid next to him, both of you being at eye level against the pillows. A comfortable silence filled the house. You closed your eyes and relaxed, wondering who would make the first move.
To your surprise, once again, it was him who did. His warm, leathery hand reached out for yours. You immediately wrapped your hand around his, playing with the tip of his fingers with your thumb. When you opened your eyes again, ready to face him with full vulnerability, you felt yourself melt against the countless blankets beneath you.
He gave you the same stare, satisfied and warm towards you, the way someone would observe a souvenir given by a loved one years ago.
You gathered every ounce of courage inside your heart to ask him. "Can I hug you?"
He didn't even hesitate, his softer smile sharpening up. "I've been waitin', you know."
This gave you the permission you needed, rolling onto your side towards him. You opened your arms, inviting him to seek shelter in them, offering him comfort. Of course, he wasn't backing up. As he scooted over to you, he wrapped his own around your torso. Looking into eachother's eyes, he rested his forehead against yours.
Finally, you could take the time to admire his peculiar beauty. The different and distinctive colors of his fur, copper melting into toned white, cropping the middle of his face. His signature black mask dropping to his jaw, framed by his white muzzle. Everything about him seemed to shine, even in the shade of the room, as only the cold light from your window allowed clarity.
How could you not admire his ruby eyes? The most unnatural but enticing trait a creature could have. Humanoid or completely alien, no one made you stare as much as he did, simply because of his blood painted irises, pupils and sclera. They glowed into yours, their intimidating essence piercing through you. The idea of such witnesses of horrors - torture, death and violence - looking at you with fondness… You felt like a chosen one, the luckiest and most powerful Earther to have ever lived.
You lifted your free arm to pass a hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb on his eyebrow, then near his lower lid, as if to outline his eye with liquid air. He let you, knowing it was a way for you to relax. It was somewhat comforting for him too, a part of him still tense from the foreign gentle sensations on his face.
Your hand eventually lowered to his jaw, somewhat holding it up without pressure. Your wandering thumb ended on the corner of his mouth, analysing the unique texture of his lips. A soft leather, like his hands, kept warm and humid. You noticed the way his eyes closed just a bit, half-lidded and still staring at you. You bit your inner lip, suppressing a smile. You knew how much of a tease you were being now, and it was like you could hear his thoughts calling you just that.
To not leave him so needy, you finally pressed your lips to the corner of his, slowly peppering kisses onto them. They traveled to the front of his mouth, where you landed a more passionate one, holding his jaw firmly to keep him in place for just a moment.
When you pulled away, you felt him push against your hand that still held him, trying to reach you once more. "Rocket, your coffee is going to get cold," you burst the warm bubble that seemed to envelop you both a moment ago.
"Psh… It prob' already is," he dismissed. "I have somethin' much better to taste, right here."
Now, his eyes were definitely predatory.