Work Text:
Strawberry House, December 20XX
With a heavy sigh, Five supposed it was Christmas.
It was definitely just before or just after the shortest day. He preferred the idea of a solstice. It always felt cool and smooth in his mind, a jewel he could keep to himself.
When he was young, Christmas wasn’t a big deal, the Umbrellas wandering in and out and they had their yearly viewing of “It’s a Wonderful Life.” The movie was fine, even a kind of thoughtful consideration of the ramifications of changing something small in the timeline. But every year was a lot. He never thought much of Christmas. Too saccharine. Too capitalist. Too loud. For Christmas, Five only ever wanted it to not be Christmas. In the end, no matter how bad it was, every year he got what he wanted. The absolute best part of the apocalypse was not having to put up with that kind of bullshit. But one Lila Pitts was always looking for an excuse to celebrate. They even had to climb a tree on Arbor Day.
There were no decorations in the house. Maybe they were like him -- nonbelievers. But there were art supplies and Lila made decorations out of aging construction paper -- paper rings and snowflakes, images of globe ornaments, more colorful and shiny than they could ever be in real life. She had conscripted him to do a couple, but the only thing he could really draw was a little cartoon of himself, dark straight brows, big nose, flop of hair.
She also wanted them to make each other gifts by drawing on little pieces of paper. He had conceded, drawing a large strawberry which he had to make pink because (and he said this OUT LOUD) LILA was monopolizing the ONLY red pencil.
While they did this, Lila wore a cone hat she’d made out of red construction paper with a cotton ball on the tip. She looked perfectly ridiculous (and very cute) but he refused to wear his. He was doing the work (and not even being sullen about it).
While he drew his gift (a tiny picture of the house itself, yellow, with the creeper vines as it had been in the fall – green into red), his mind strayed back to the solstice. He liked that it was connected to the universe. He liked that it was about time – rational, dependable. Unlike so many other things about time.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Lila cut in.
Five sighed. He enjoyed Lila’s company, but sometimes he just wanted to be in his own head.
“You know... just the solstice, the universe, time,” he replied.
“So the little things,” she smirked.
“Even in the darkest part of the year, there’s always the promise of light. The world turns again, and you know – the sunny days will come back and the world will melt and grow green and full.”
Lila stopped to stare at him. “A goddamn miracle.”
“Just a small one,” he agreed.
“Not the solstice,” she said, “You – you’re an optimist. I never would have guessed.”
He didn’t even look up. “Love, I lived for decades in an apocalypse. If I wasn’t an optimist, I’d be long dead.”
This time, she put the scissors down, rose to her feet and pulled his hands away from the colored pencils.
“You’re the most pessimistic optimist I’ve ever met, Five Hargreeves.”
He shrugged, “I contain multitudes.”
“Come on,” she dragged him over to the coats.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re celebrating your holiday, you monkish druid,” she returned.
“Oh, we don’t need to do anything. In fact -- “ but she was already guiding him to the staircase.
They climbed out of the attic, stood on the roof, they saw the sunset crowded to the horizon by the lowering clouds, scored by the bare branches of trees. Pink and gold and orange, a bright slash of fiery color against the grey-blue dark. It made him glad. Glad too, to be here with Lila, to spend this time with her, a gift, finally, from time, a pocket to live, to eat, to laugh, to dance in. Just for a moment. That’s all we really have anyway.
He drew her close. And kissed her, her face was already cold, but her lips were warm, ran his hands through her hair – freezing too but soft, so soft. She was startled at first, but pulled him in, even closer, deeper, her eyelashes brushed his cheek.
She broke away. “What was that for?”
It started to snow, just gently around them. Lila stuck out her tongue to taste it. There was a time where he would have stopped her, but now he was fairly sure (about 87%) that it was harmless.
“For,” he decided to use her language, “Christmas.”
She grinned. “You only got me one present?”
So he leaned in, palmed the angle of her jaw, hands slipping back into her hair again. If only he could always be kissing her.
When he pulled away because it was starting to get dark, she pouted, “Grinch.”
“What? You want me to kiss you all night?”
That wicked smile. She pulled him in again for that moment they both loved, a softness in the harsh world.
Five had no idea what time it is when they climbed off the mattress but it’s still snowing. Time to put on clothes before the fire dies down. They had brought the mattress downstairs for the winter, stacked all the books in the house around the walls for insulation, tried to make it the warmest room.
They had a stack of blankets on the bed, and they wore wool socks (Lila’s had sparkles, a gift from Five the year before. He smiled when he spotted them – Lila, with her magpie eye, would love them) flannel pjs, sweatshirts.
As they were climbing into bed, Lila said, “We forgot the presents!”
“I thought I just gave you your present.”
“The real ones!” she returned. His were a ticket for a kiss, a ticket for a book about “history” and an odd one, with a cartoony little dog, “Mr Pennycrumb.”
“What’s this?” he waved it at her.
“You should have a dog. It’s obvious.”
“A dog?” Five didn’t consider himself an animal person, “I don’t see myself with a dog, much less one with such a silly name.”
“Oh, what name would you like? Bors? Heisenberg? Butch? Kevin?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Orthros -- Daybreak -- from Greek mythology?”
“Foolish,” she said, “It’s Mr Pennycrumb or nothing. I see it perfectly.”
“What about your presents?” He’d decided to go corny, cause what do you get the girl who has nothing?
She frowned at the strawberry and the house, “We already have these.”
“But do you have pictures of them?”
Lila laughed kissed him again.
“At this rate, we’ll never finish,” he admonished her.
She held the last up for him. He meant it to be funny, kind of sarcastic, but now he saw there was only one way to mean it. He wondered if it was too much, wished he hadn’t made it.
At his hesitation she asked, “Is it a valentine?”
“No,” he was gruff about it, “It’s…it’s – “ he lowered his voice, “my heart.”
She threw her arms around him, pushing him over on the bed, kissed him hard, and even so soon, he could feel his arousal, running his hands up under the flannel, feeling her undershirt, the one with little holes in patterns on it. He pressed against her, thought it would be enough to just be shirtless, to feel her so close against him, the freedom of no clothes, touching her everywhere, hear her sigh and gasp and sigh, while he bit into her shoulder. Insatiable, he had it all in front of him.
He never expected to find this. He had lived such a long time without this intense connection, his body only a vessel for getting him around, but now he lived in his body too, melting into Lila as she touched him, kissed his neck, no need to worry about marks here.
Before the next act, Lila paused, put his hand on her chest. He looked a question at her. “We’re a matched set,” she seemed shy, “You’ve my heart too.”
“Ugh,” he said smiling, “Hopeless romantic.”
She kissed him just to shut him up.
Five’s eyes were slitted, Lila curled towards him, her face dipped so she didn’t have to breathe the cold air, but the fire still limned one side of her face. Together, they glowed in the dark.
After years traveling the subway, he was so glad of this deep warmth. And Lila. Anyone else he would have killed by now. Who else would he love more now than years ago when this whole fiasco started?
He drew closer to her; she turned over and scooted against him and he threw an arm around her. Everything was now. The snow outside, the room, smelling like old books, colorful with split spines and ridiculous titles, festooned with Lila’s decorations, the fire burning through the night. Five’s eyes drifting closed.
It was time. Time made it happen. There were so many reasons to hate time and how our lives crisped to blackness in its bright glow. But here it was. Even though it brought the night, it brought the sunrise too.