wheelsy_sheriff | (no subject)

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(no subject)

[after this and this]

He's gone the entire morning and it's mid-afternoon when the truck backs into the driveway.

The screen door bangs open and there's a knocking on the other side of the door that sounds like he might be kicking it, he is, and a muffled, "Kate!"

Waiting outside on the porch is Bill and a pine tree that's attempting to smother him against the front door.

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"Sweet," she finishes, grinning as she lifts out a Popsicle-stick frame with fossilized Froot Loops surrounding the photo of a much-younger Bill.

"My mom insisted on keepin' 'em. I think that's like second grade or somethin'."

He smiles, hoping his face isn't too red and making it a closed lip smile as in the picture his younger self grins like a fool showing off his missing front teeth.

"And I bet there's more where this came from."

She pulls her best innocent face as she gives the ornament the prominent placement it deserves.

"Next time I see her, I'm asking for photo albums."

He watches it go up on the tree and shakes his head.

"Oh, you better not."

Said in warning as he goes back to the box to try and stop her from finding any more examples of his childhood creations.

"Scrooge."

She's still smiling as she turns and follows him to the box, peering over his shoulder as he tries to bury what looks like a lot of shellacked macaroni on a snowflake-shaped field of green construction paper.

Noticing her behind him he tries to use his shoulders to hide the box from her.

"I am not a scrooge. I'm just trying to spare you from havin' to spend hours with my mom. You get her started an' she'll go on an' on."

"That's the point."

She runs her fingertips through his hair at his nape and swallows a laugh.

"I like the macaroni one."

"You just want more dirt on me is all."

His shoulders lift with her touch and he laughs, giving up on trying to hide the rest.

"Fine, go on an' have a look. You gotta admit though, I had a real talent with dried noodles an' cereal."

"I see."

She's smiling as much as the cut on her lip will allow as she crouches next to the box and rummages through it.

"Okay, the macaroni one is definitely going on there," she says as she picks it up, "and so is this Rudolph."

A beat.

"And this one -- but that's as much as I'll embarrass you this year."

"I appreciate it," He smiles. His cheeks wouldn't be able to take it if she did go for more, red as they are now.

"You think we're 'bout ready for the star then?"

She's noticed the heat in his cheeks, but doesn't comment; instead, she places the ornaments in her hands, then steps back to survey the tree before she nods.

"I think so."

His smile turns pleased and he digs in the box and pulls out the star.

It's a simple, silver, five-pointed star with lights and shiny tinsel.

"Wanna plug that in?"

Handing the cord off to her he works on getting the star on the tree and straight.

It takes a bit of finagling but he gets the tree topper placed.

She finds the connector plug on the strand of lights and the star glows to life.

she's eight years old again, playing tug-of-war with a silver garland with a three-year-old Marie, and they're both laughing when they fall to the carpet

'mine, Katie-Beff, mine!'

'okay, okay -- you win'

She blinks when Bill steps back, then hooks an arm around his elbow.

"Nice work."

He looks down at her and smiles warmly, trying not to let his eyes drift to her jaw.

"Couldn't've done it without you."

He places his hand over her arm hooked with his and looks back at the glowing tree.

Her smile grows while her throat tightens; she leans her head against his shoulder, her eyes on the tree.

"I can't believe it's almost Christmas here."

And it's still July at home.

"Yeah, time's been goin' pretty quick."

The shooting seems like forever ago and yesterday at the same time and it's hard to think about how long he's been out because of it.

So he doesn't.

Instead he focuses on now, smiling down at her and teasing her with a light nudge.

"Time flyin' ain't an' excuse for you not to get me a present, though."

She chuckles and turns her head to look at him, her cheek still against his shoulder.

"You're assuming I haven't gotten it yet."

His smile widens and he makes a show of looking around without moving too much so her head can stay where it's at.

"Have you gotten me somethin'? You hidin' it here or in Milliways?"

"That -- "

She turns to step in front of him, her arm wrapping loosely around his waist.

"Is classified, sheriff."

"Ain't even gonna give me a hint?"

His hand finds the small of her back and the other settles on her hip; his eyes stay focused on hers.

"Just promise it don't involve Patriots or kitties."

"Hints aren't fair -- you'll find out on Christmas morning."

She gives one of his belt loops a teasing tug.

"Right now, you should be more worried about dinner. Leave me to my own devices, and we'll be having veggie pizza."

"It has kitties, don't it?"

The threat of veggie pizza is important, but not so much so that he can't pause before rushing to the kitchen to bend and press a light kiss to her forehead.

We're gonna be okay.

"You stick too many veggies on that pizza an' I'm gonna be back here raidin' the tree for candy canes an' old cereal."

"But that'll ruin your works of art," she protests, following him into the kitchen.

When she hears a relieved exclamation from the fridge while he pulls out pepperoni, Italian sausage and Canadian bacon, she can't help but laugh.

We're going to be fine.

She washes her hands and reaches for the package of pizza crusts.

"I think the tree can spare a couple of candy canes for dessert."

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