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riptide_asylum) wrote2009-12-27 05:23 pm
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-12-27 05:23 pm
Entry tags:
"Deck the Halls" (Horizons, 1972)
Title: Deck the Halls
Rating: PG
Summary: Nick used to hate Christmas...
1972
The air in the mess tent's alive with the tension of men away from home, men who've looked on death and made it through the day. Someone's found a turkey from somewhere, and a crackling radio's delivering the tinny sounds of a Christmas carol.
Down at the end of the table, a few of the guys are singing along, beers raised in honor of the holiday. "On the first day of Christmas, the VC gave to me." Nick feels sick. He hates Christmas stateside and this is worse. He stands abruptly, turns to leave.
Cody catches him at the door, pulling him back inside. "Don't go, Nick, it's Christmas, buddy."
That's no reason to stay in Nick's book, but the scared, lonely look in Cody's eyes is another story. He grins, nods, follows his partner back to the table. Even joins in the singing.
"Two hand grenades and some plastic in a Dauphine."
Cody's smile is the best present Nick's ever gotten.
1978
The weather's dark and cold, and it's bringing Cody down--that and Nick's mood. The last week it's seemed like his partner's angry at everyone and everything, even Cody, and he's not sure how to handle that, not here.
He's seen Nick this way before, but over there it was easy. An hour working on the choppers, and Nick'd either talk or fling his tools away in disgust. Cody'd decked him more than once, out there behind the choppers, the only blow he could strike in Nick's fight against his darkness, but Cody's afraid it won't be so simple here.
He hasn't seen Nick all day, and in the end he gets tired of waiting. He knows where Nick is, even though he's pretended to himself all day that he doesn't.
The bar's half full, full of piped Christmas music and overloud laugher. Nick's on his own in a booth in the back. There's an empty glass in front of him and he's staring at the wall, and the look on his face nearly breaks Cody's heart.
"Why're you here?" Nick hasn't looked round, but he knows Cody's there anyhow. Cody gave up being surprised by that years ago. "Cody, man, I'm no good to anyone right now, okay? Go on out, get yourself a girl, have a good time."
"Not without you, buddy." Cody leans against the table.
Nick grunts, looking away. "So now I'm a charity case."
"Yup." Cody's pushing it and he knows it, but that's the point--once Nick explodes, once the storm breaks, he knows better than anyone how to pick up the pieces.
It's not the first bar brawl they've started, and Cody's gotten good at getting them both out of sight before the on-duty MPs turn up. Nick's face is bloody and his nose is broken. There'll be hell to pay when they report for duty in the morning, Christmas or no, but he's leaning on Cody's arm like it's old times and the dark shadows have gone from his eyes. For Cody, that's Christmas enough.
1980
Nick's been flying for days, feels like, body aching with it, eyes gritty with the strain. It's two more hours flying time to make King Harbor and he knows he shouldn't take off again, knows he oughtta bed down right here in the Mimi's hold.
There's some pilots he knows drinking beer in the back of the hangar. They've asked him twice to join them, and it's so damned hot and Nick's so dry he'd like to. But there's one thing he wants more than a beer and a nap right now, and that's his partner, so he gives the guys a wave and shoulders into the office to sign over his cargo.
"Merry Christmas, Nick!" The secretary whose name he never remembers gives him her cheeky smile. "You're staying here, right? You're over hours?"
Nick grins and lies and signs his name - he's always over hours, they need the cash to eat and pay the rent, and Cody hasn't been doing so hot on holding down a job, the last few months. But that's between him and the sky, and nothing the FAA needs to know.
He's back in the air, yawning to stay awake, listening to the rough note in the Mimi's growl that means he's got a full day's work on the pistons before they'll be flying again. Nick growls right back, keeping her in the air with brute force and coaxing, until at last he sees the welcome line of sea.
Nick nearly falls out of the cockpit, he's so damned tired, but Cody's there to catch him, and for a minute all Nick can do is grin. "Happy Christmas, big guy," he whispers, and holds on.
1984
The boat's close to sinking under the weight of tinsel and holly and a bigger Christmas tree than Cody's ever seen outside of Macy's. He gulps, taking in the salon, and reaches out blindly for Nick. "Murray... don't you think this is maybe a little... much?"
Murray's talking excitedly, about Christmases past and how much he loves the season, and Nick pulls away from Cody's hand with a grunt and disappears below.
Cody looks from his disappearing back to Murray's fading grin, and tries to smile. "Nick loves it too. Listen, Boz, just gimme a minute, okay?"
The Christmas carols are loud even down in the stateroom, and Nick's got a pillow on his head. Cody knows Nick hates this season, knows it churns him up worse inside than just about anything else, and now it's followed him here onto the boat. There's nothing Cody can say, nothing he can do except hold Nick the way he does when the nightmares come and hope it's enough.
"I can live with the decorations," Nick says at last, hoarse against Cody's shoulder, "if you can get him to turn off the fucking Christmas carols."
Cody laughs in relief. "If I can't, you can always throw the record overboard."
"Now you're talking, big guy. C'mon, let's go upstairs."
1995
They've spent more Christmases together than apart. Nick leans on the table, watching the guy who's been his partner, his friend, his lover, for more than half their lives. It's a sobering thought.
Thinking back, he cant remember what life meant without Cody, what got him out of bed and through each day. It feels like yesterday they met, raw recruits, neither of them smart enough to be afraid. That came later.
Together they learned fear and joy. How to dream and how to die, and in the end, how to live. That had been the hardest lesson of all, and sometimes, Nick still isn't sure they've got that one down. But the one thing he's sure of is the guy at his side, and he's the reason Nick'll never quit.
"You enjoying the party?" Cody asks in his ear, and Nick looks around at the crowd in Straightaway's, their friends, their neighbors, a few tourists and the young blonde waitress Cody's been flirting with all night. He grins.
"Tell you what, man. Let's go back to the boat an' I'll give you your Christmas present early."
2009
Nick used to hate Christmas. He cant pinpoint exactly when it changed, what year he heard 'Deck the Halls' for the first time and it didn't set his teeth on edge. All he knows is that these days he's as keen as Cody to pick out the Christmas tree, even if he'd still rather read the Sports Illustrated than trim the tree once they get it home.
Cody bitches him out about that, same way he always has, but that's just part of Christmas, far as Nick's concerned. Same as Murray and his girls over for Christmas dinner and squeezing the turkey in the tiny galley oven.
But the best part of Christmas, as far as Nick's concerned, is waking up in Cody's arms. Waking up to Cody's smile, to another day beside him. That's the only thing Nick wants for Christmas.
Rating: PG
Summary: Nick used to hate Christmas...
1972
The air in the mess tent's alive with the tension of men away from home, men who've looked on death and made it through the day. Someone's found a turkey from somewhere, and a crackling radio's delivering the tinny sounds of a Christmas carol.
Down at the end of the table, a few of the guys are singing along, beers raised in honor of the holiday. "On the first day of Christmas, the VC gave to me." Nick feels sick. He hates Christmas stateside and this is worse. He stands abruptly, turns to leave.
Cody catches him at the door, pulling him back inside. "Don't go, Nick, it's Christmas, buddy."
That's no reason to stay in Nick's book, but the scared, lonely look in Cody's eyes is another story. He grins, nods, follows his partner back to the table. Even joins in the singing.
"Two hand grenades and some plastic in a Dauphine."
Cody's smile is the best present Nick's ever gotten.
1978
The weather's dark and cold, and it's bringing Cody down--that and Nick's mood. The last week it's seemed like his partner's angry at everyone and everything, even Cody, and he's not sure how to handle that, not here.
He's seen Nick this way before, but over there it was easy. An hour working on the choppers, and Nick'd either talk or fling his tools away in disgust. Cody'd decked him more than once, out there behind the choppers, the only blow he could strike in Nick's fight against his darkness, but Cody's afraid it won't be so simple here.
He hasn't seen Nick all day, and in the end he gets tired of waiting. He knows where Nick is, even though he's pretended to himself all day that he doesn't.
The bar's half full, full of piped Christmas music and overloud laugher. Nick's on his own in a booth in the back. There's an empty glass in front of him and he's staring at the wall, and the look on his face nearly breaks Cody's heart.
"Why're you here?" Nick hasn't looked round, but he knows Cody's there anyhow. Cody gave up being surprised by that years ago. "Cody, man, I'm no good to anyone right now, okay? Go on out, get yourself a girl, have a good time."
"Not without you, buddy." Cody leans against the table.
Nick grunts, looking away. "So now I'm a charity case."
"Yup." Cody's pushing it and he knows it, but that's the point--once Nick explodes, once the storm breaks, he knows better than anyone how to pick up the pieces.
It's not the first bar brawl they've started, and Cody's gotten good at getting them both out of sight before the on-duty MPs turn up. Nick's face is bloody and his nose is broken. There'll be hell to pay when they report for duty in the morning, Christmas or no, but he's leaning on Cody's arm like it's old times and the dark shadows have gone from his eyes. For Cody, that's Christmas enough.
1980
Nick's been flying for days, feels like, body aching with it, eyes gritty with the strain. It's two more hours flying time to make King Harbor and he knows he shouldn't take off again, knows he oughtta bed down right here in the Mimi's hold.
There's some pilots he knows drinking beer in the back of the hangar. They've asked him twice to join them, and it's so damned hot and Nick's so dry he'd like to. But there's one thing he wants more than a beer and a nap right now, and that's his partner, so he gives the guys a wave and shoulders into the office to sign over his cargo.
"Merry Christmas, Nick!" The secretary whose name he never remembers gives him her cheeky smile. "You're staying here, right? You're over hours?"
Nick grins and lies and signs his name - he's always over hours, they need the cash to eat and pay the rent, and Cody hasn't been doing so hot on holding down a job, the last few months. But that's between him and the sky, and nothing the FAA needs to know.
He's back in the air, yawning to stay awake, listening to the rough note in the Mimi's growl that means he's got a full day's work on the pistons before they'll be flying again. Nick growls right back, keeping her in the air with brute force and coaxing, until at last he sees the welcome line of sea.
Nick nearly falls out of the cockpit, he's so damned tired, but Cody's there to catch him, and for a minute all Nick can do is grin. "Happy Christmas, big guy," he whispers, and holds on.
1984
The boat's close to sinking under the weight of tinsel and holly and a bigger Christmas tree than Cody's ever seen outside of Macy's. He gulps, taking in the salon, and reaches out blindly for Nick. "Murray... don't you think this is maybe a little... much?"
Murray's talking excitedly, about Christmases past and how much he loves the season, and Nick pulls away from Cody's hand with a grunt and disappears below.
Cody looks from his disappearing back to Murray's fading grin, and tries to smile. "Nick loves it too. Listen, Boz, just gimme a minute, okay?"
The Christmas carols are loud even down in the stateroom, and Nick's got a pillow on his head. Cody knows Nick hates this season, knows it churns him up worse inside than just about anything else, and now it's followed him here onto the boat. There's nothing Cody can say, nothing he can do except hold Nick the way he does when the nightmares come and hope it's enough.
"I can live with the decorations," Nick says at last, hoarse against Cody's shoulder, "if you can get him to turn off the fucking Christmas carols."
Cody laughs in relief. "If I can't, you can always throw the record overboard."
"Now you're talking, big guy. C'mon, let's go upstairs."
1995
They've spent more Christmases together than apart. Nick leans on the table, watching the guy who's been his partner, his friend, his lover, for more than half their lives. It's a sobering thought.
Thinking back, he cant remember what life meant without Cody, what got him out of bed and through each day. It feels like yesterday they met, raw recruits, neither of them smart enough to be afraid. That came later.
Together they learned fear and joy. How to dream and how to die, and in the end, how to live. That had been the hardest lesson of all, and sometimes, Nick still isn't sure they've got that one down. But the one thing he's sure of is the guy at his side, and he's the reason Nick'll never quit.
"You enjoying the party?" Cody asks in his ear, and Nick looks around at the crowd in Straightaway's, their friends, their neighbors, a few tourists and the young blonde waitress Cody's been flirting with all night. He grins.
"Tell you what, man. Let's go back to the boat an' I'll give you your Christmas present early."
2009
Nick used to hate Christmas. He cant pinpoint exactly when it changed, what year he heard 'Deck the Halls' for the first time and it didn't set his teeth on edge. All he knows is that these days he's as keen as Cody to pick out the Christmas tree, even if he'd still rather read the Sports Illustrated than trim the tree once they get it home.
Cody bitches him out about that, same way he always has, but that's just part of Christmas, far as Nick's concerned. Same as Murray and his girls over for Christmas dinner and squeezing the turkey in the tiny galley oven.
But the best part of Christmas, as far as Nick's concerned, is waking up in Cody's arms. Waking up to Cody's smile, to another day beside him. That's the only thing Nick wants for Christmas.