Chapter Text
“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart! Yet the very next day, you gave it away! This year, I’ll swallow my tears, and maybe something special!”
Damien scoffed as he paused in the apartment doorway, a look thrown over his shoulder that, if Angel could read minds, easily bordered on shock and disbelief. With just a little bewilderment thrown in for good measure. They glanced back, trying hard to keep down a giggle that threatened to make its way free. The strand of garland he had begun hanging now dangled loose from one end. And upon closer inspection, the red of the decoration was a nice compliment to the shade that had begun to creep up around the fire elemental’s ears.
“How do you turn something as innocent as Christmas carols into something so perverse?”
One would think that after all the time the two had spent together, Damien would have grown used to Angel’s antics. All out of good fun, mind you. Especially if they could watch that vein above their friend’s eye twitch from just their words. Sometimes, they made a game out of it. What out of pocket things could they say to make it wiggle, and how often. Their record high was four times in one afternoon. And they felt like they could have kept going, if not for the coasters on the coffee table starting to melt into the varnish.
“Oh please. It’s personal interpretation.” Their attention returning to the bundle of lights in their lap, carefully working to untangle the strip. “Some milk. Some eggnog.” Angel’s eyes flit back up to meet his, a smirk pulling at their lips. “Where was your mind, Dami?”
He sighed, eyeing them with his signature “What the hell is wrong with you?” look, before turning away, stretching tall to finish taping the décor above the frame. “In the gutter, where all your innuendos stem from.”
“You can’t tell me mommy and Santa Claus stopped at kissing. Why do something half assed? Might as well go all the way.”
“And then there are the decent members of society that actually like to take things slow.” He took a step back to measure how even his efforts looked, before moving forward again to make a slight adjustment.
“Hmm.” They hummed, temporarily focused on his back, stare slowly drifting up to his hair.
It had gotten long again, just falling past his shoulders. It always did grow fast, Angel having to nearly corner him to give him a cut. They often wondered if that was the only time when he would get his hair trimmed. And if he just wouldn’t bother with the task if they didn’t harass him otherwise.
Angel’s hands resumed working at the bulbs, a sudden melancholy washing over them. “And then there’s you, where if you moved any slower snails would be begging you to change lanes.” Nearly whispering.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frowning as he gave them his full attention once more.
His expression was still the same, mannerisms Angel could no longer grow shocked by and had become long since used to. And maybe because of that, they couldn’t help envisioning the man before them now, overlayed with the eight-year-old boy from way back then. If they hadn’t gotten to know him, they might have thought him mean or harsh. But none of that could have been further from the truth. He was just… Damien.
“It means… for all your intelligence, you can be awfully dense sometimes.” They plastered on a grin.
He stood there, searching for deeper meaning to their words. He did that. It was why they started calling him Dami, read “dummy” in the first place. Of course he’d grown hot, almost indignant at the little nickname. But he’d let them keep calling him that well into adulthood. Almost wearing the would be insult like a badge of honor.
“Whatever.” He grumbled as he strode over to them, stare lowering towards the lights in their hands. “Guess you still haven’t figured out how to run your mouth and multitask at the same time.” Damien chuckled.
“I…!”
Before Angel could respond, he removed the load from their hands and set it aside. “Tell you what… we’ve been at this for a few hours. So, how about a break? You in the mood for anything?”
Their eyes crinkled, twinkling with delight, right before their brows furrowed as Damien threw one hand over their mouth.
“And I mean food, you gremlin.”
They pulled his palm low. “Way to steal my thunder.”
“Hmm. It’s almost like I know what you’re gonna say before you say it.”
“You know me so well.”
“I would hope so by now.”
Their smile stretched wide. That confirmation warmed their heart, pushing back the slowly encroaching shadows that began to cloud and make them question what they knew to be true. But even though they knew, it was hard not to doubt that little fact from time to time. Their mind was evil like that.
“You’re welcome for the pleasure.”
“More like torture.” He sighed. “But… I suppose it’s not unwanted. Now, what do you want to eat?”
“Anything?”
“Within reason.”
“Cookies and milk.”
Damien arched a brow.
“You know what, make it eggnog. Tis the season after all.”
“So, any reason you waited until the last second to start decorating?” Angel asked, hopping up on the counter stool and stealing one of the cookies they had been offered.
“Shut up. There’s no point in doing that stuff as an adult. Unless you have kids.”
As Damien set the mixing bowl to the side, Angel was tempted to swipe their finger around its edge. But knew that would earn an earful. It wasn’t that store bought cookies were bad… Just that homemade ones were so much better. And who could resist the allure of cookie dough when right in front of them?
“Then why…?”
“Because someone started pestering me about my lack of holiday cheer. Calling me a grinch, if I recall.”
“It was a Scrooge. I mean… How awful!” Voice dramatically rising in pitch. “I’m so glad you’ve seen the errors of your ways. And bless that saint who got you to see the light.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite his best attempt to keep a neutral expression. “Right, right. The same saint, if I recall, that doesn’t even have a tree set up in their own home.” He reached for two cups off the shelf, pouring eggnog for them both.
Angel shrugs. “It’s more exciting with others. And your apartment is way more spacious, Dami. Come on. Would you really want to use my kitchen to bake all of your holiday treats?”
“I’d be less insulted if you said you just wanted the sweets.” Laughing as he took a drink from his glass. “Did you even eat today?”
“Does now count?”
He shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”
“Well it’s a good thing I have you to keep me in check.”
“I…” He opened his mouth before shutting it again, his beverage holding his attention.
Quiet…
Quiet…
Oh so quiet…
A sudden silence settled between them. The desire to keep talking prodding, urging them to not let their words grab hold and burrow deep. But nothing could shake this heavy weight as it shifted through the space, pressing down on them. They knew Damien felt it too, frozen in mind as the air grew thick as tar. If they could, they would take it back. This stillness, as loud as a shout, making them want to scream into the void in order to drive the madness of unspoken thoughts away.
The sound of the kitchen timer permeated the quiet, shaking both from their temporary stupor, and causing time to flow forward once again.
Do I want it to? Wouldn’t it be better if it could just… slow down?
“I have…” Damien cleared his throat. “I have a… Cornish hen. I was gonna make it tomorrow. You know me and mom don’t really do the whole Christmas dinner thing… We can share it now. If you want.”
“That won’t put you out?” Their voice quiet.
“I’m golden. But I’m pretty sure if we were to go to your cupboards right now, it’d probably be a good bet we’d find cup noodles. If that.”
“Okay Mr. Velveeta. And you don’t know that.” They looked away, puffing out their cheeks.
He smirked. “Am I wrong?”
“No. But I also know you can’t read minds, so there’s no telling.”
A slow grin widens across his face. “You’d be surprised.”