Oh, I've Got a Car That's Red Like Rubies

[velveteenwolf]

When: Christmas Morning
Where: Near Peter's Apartment
Rating: PG-13 for language and the best Christmas Gift in the World. Will update if needed.
Characters: Peter Rumancek and Roman Godfrey
Summary: What do you get an entitled richboy for Christmas, anyway?

It's Christmas Morning, and Peter's not in the apartment.

The Christmas lights are on, gleaming brightly, their diminutive fucking Charlie-Brown-Christmas tree looking more adorable than sad on this particular morning, as if it knows it's got a job to do. There's a note, impossible to miss, with Roman's name scrawled in bright fucking red, with just the words parking lot. bring smokes. scrawled in Peter's unmistakable scrawl on the other side. Yeah, so it's fucking cliche as shit, but playing off oh hey, I got you a car when it includes having to walk down stairs and crap is gonna be ridiculous no matter how he plays it. So, he might as well go all out, right?

He's leaning against the hood, with one of those shitty little red bows for presents on his shoulder. He's pretty sure if he put it on the car Roman would give him shit about messing up the paint job or whatever. He's got two glasses of cider, both spiked with a nice dark rum he'd stolen found. He'd never talk to the Anonymous guys before, but, hey. Christmas was worth it. Roman was worth it. Even if he was still kind of skittish about saying it to his face. All of this was new. Good, in a weird sort of way. But still new.

Peter is just going to sip his cider and wait, staring at the white snow that he's protected from under the overhang, and listening intently to the stillness in between the beats of his own heart.

Comments

[saturniapavonia]

Monsieur Godfrey is not getting his customary eleven odd hours of sleep so he actually does wake up while it is still morning. The zombie walk of wakefulness to the living room is short. Their tree and it's colorful blur of lights do something to haul cheer from him already. A quick look around and the help of the note tells him that Peter isn't here. He throws on a jacket and grabs the necessary smokes.

Shuffling to the parking lot he doesn't quite get that this is a surprise. What is going on? And also why is it so cold here, that comes to his mind. Peter has his own presents--that have been hidden thanks. But this? What is--?

He can see it from a distance. Roman stops dead. The color is unmistakable. Red and good as new, as bright as all the memories of his father and their secret drives along the Pennsylvania roads. He sniffs because it's cold. Yeah.

"Shit." The smile on his face could seriously split his face apart. "SHIT!" With more gusto he is motion. "How did you-?" By the time he gets to the car Roman is out of breath and words. Pat, patting to the cool surface and a just as fond, just as hard grip to Peter's shoulder. Hopefully he won't spill the cider.

[velveteenwolf]

Peter smiles when he sees him, and he just stays there, acts like this is somehow normal and like it hasn't been literal fucking months since either of them have seen Roman's cherry-red sportscar. It was perfect, of course it was, he knew it would be perfect, the only thing that could be perfect.

Roman's grin nearly splits his face wide open and Peter is soaking up every moment of it. The air is bitter cold, but there's a warmth at seeing Roman light up like this. He's seemed a little bit homesick, even if they never actually talk about it, not really. So it's not just a car, not just gorgeous perfect fucking lines and a tight turning radius, it's a piece of home. As a traveler all of his life, Peter knows how important those sort of things are.

Peter drops his own cup on the cement -- they're just cheap plastic so he's not worried. He'd finished his own anyway, but he keeps Roman's safe, though he leans into the contact, reaches up to clasp one of Roman's shoulders. Peter's beaming too, of course. It's that victory, of actually being able to impress a fucking Godfrey at Christmas even if he's just a gypsy.

"So you like it?"

He can't help it, laughing a little as he tugs Roman in close. It's Christmas morning and he likes it, this moment right here. Even if it's fucking balls degrees out right now, Roman's grinning and they have their ridiculous sportscar back. Everything's good for right now.

And shit, he doesn't remember feeling this glad in a while.