For Green, Red pulls out some special gifts from the huge bag he's been lugging around. First, a thermal blanket and soft light blue earmuffs-- they're not too flashy but it seems to match a certain scarf. Then, some photos of him and Red together as children (presumably gotten from his mother) with handmade frames made of puzzle pieces and stickers, attached to a loop to hang from. Each one has a note on the back. And lastly, festive Stantler horns with flashing lights. Happy holidays!
From the moment he hears the familiar knocking at his door, Green knows well enough that whatever he has in his hands—totaling to one mug of watered-out coffee, a T.V. remote, and two pens—should be abandoned immediately. This would be, after all, the first real Christmas Red would be spending with him in far too long, and Green doubts that his long-time rival and best friend would come all the way to his apartment with nothing.
(Though he realizes that it shouldn’t be “spending with,” but rather “spending with the acknowledgement of each other’s presence around them.” It’s a bit too long and a tad over-complicated, but it’s also exactly how Green sees it (read: them). Twenty-three years of nonstop seeing and thinking and doing leads to many things learned, but if there’s one thing Green Nathaniel Oak can say, with confidence, “I know what I’m talking about,” it’s this. Red and Green, best friends turned rivals turned strangers turned super best friends, who resolved the darkest period of their lives with several minutes of crying and hugging and then ice cream.)
Green, for once, arrives at his doorstep quickly, but hesitates when he’s just about to open the door. No one but Red ever knocks these days, but what if it was just a random caroler that he’d have to sit through for the next five minutes? What if Lance had magically come back from his extended vacation to the springs (wherever those were; Green had spaced out once Lance had moved on from appointing who would take the lead for the next few weeks) to tell him a “Merry Holidays!” while also scolding him for not keeping up with the recent meetings? What if—
—As the door opens in front of him, Green sighs, the exhale shortened in an attempt to hide his relief. No signs of three pairs of falsettos or a mildly exasperated, but still refreshed man with a cape trailing behind him. He’s about to give greetings when something next to Red catches his eye. It’s a bag, huge and lumpy...and did he mention huge?
“...Merry Christmas! Or should I say, Merry What-The-Fuck-Are-You-Keeping-In-That?” Green stares as Red pulls out something (some things?) from the towering bag in question, bemused and slightly amazed at the fact that there seems to be so much in it.
The blanket turns out to be an instant win for Green; up until this winter he’s had no problem with just one blanket, but the recent cold spell and has made the state of his apartment intolerable enough that he was just about to go buy three extra blankets himself. As soon as he’s given it, Green unfolds the blanket and drapes it around his shoulders, biting back a smile (and failing) when he feels warm and a tad bit cozy. The earmuffs, he finds, also do a good job at keeping something warm, though he keeps them around his neck rather than on his head.
Green stills completely when the photos are passed to him, but the softness of his gaze betrays his pursed lips and stiff stance. He ends up staying like that for much longer than he’d like to admit, flipping through the few pictures of them as children more than once. (He avoids looking at the notes for now, reminding himself to read them all once he’s alone.) He doesn’t even realize Red is waiting for him before he pauses to glance up at him.
“Sorry,” he says, voice at a near-whisper, “I don’t look at old photos much. Not this old, anyway.” With a lick of his lips, Green places the photos on the hall table behind him and holds out his hands for whatever’s next, already visibly as relaxed as he was earlier. (He was nowhere near crying, don’t get him wrong, but looking at the two of them so young and happy struck something in him. Remorse, possibly, but Green doesn’t dwell on it for long.)
(But he does think about giving Red one of the photos, and if he really could, several; Green is immensely protective of his material sentiment, sure, but he also doesn’t want to be the only best friend that has pictures to look at all the time. They spend so much time apart from each other sometimes that he worries of forgetting what his best friend looks like, what he sounds like. He gets close sometimes too, panicking when he hesitates on the name and face for even a split-second. Green definitely doesn’t want that happening again with either of them, so even if the photos are from two decades ago, it’s fine.)
His earlier moment is soon forgotten when the Stantler horns, those glistening, bright things, are given to him. The twinkle reflecting to his eyes adds to the look of pure awe on him, mouth agape while he stares at the flashing headgear in his hands. Green grins as he hastily puts it on, all teeth and stretch and zero amount of dignity left in it.
“I think,” he starts, grin mellowing out into a still-wide smile, “I’m going to keep these on for as long as I live.” He laughs then, shoulders shaking as he fails to contain his self-amusement. He straightens up as soon as he’s composed again, smile still present as he steps closer to his friend and opens his arms ever so slightly.
“You really didn’t have to. Do all of this, I mean. But I know you don’t want me t’say that since we’re, like, buddies, so...” Fuck it, he thinks. For the first time that month he’s the one to give the hug, arms easily finding their way around Red’s torso as he pulls the both of them closer. The blanket starts to slip, and almost falls off completely when Green takes another step, but neither that nor the fact that they’re hugging at the foot of the door again seems to phase him.
He lets go shortly after, but keeps his hands on his friend’s shoulders while he continues.
“Thanks,” he says, “for, uh. All of this. Really. I’m sure you have a shitload of stuff to do still, with a bag that big, but...” Green looks away suddenly, foot tapping away at a random beat. He looks pensive, almost, hesitating to go ahead with his train of thought.
“When you’re done you can come over if you want. I’ve got a whole three trays of cookies and some eggnog somewhere. I haven’t shown you my plants either, huh? Put a santa hat on Franziska...”
“Only suckers know other suckers,” he says, seemingly undeterred by Red’s comment. Green crosses his arms adamantly, licking his lips. ”So if we were to go by that logic, you suck too. How ‘bout them fuckin’ apples, eh?”
I hear youre quite the heartbreaker! Any truth to these claims?
“I don’t date.” Haven’t is more like it, but Green doesn’t bother with correcting himself. The title doesn’t exactly sit well with him, but it’s not like it’s worth bringing attention to, either.
...Some strange part of him wants to know more, though. Whose hearts has he broken? How many? What year—
Green feels a strange sense of déjà vu when Nate comes charging at him, nearly toppling them over with the intensity of his hug. (Could it even be called a hug?) Green’s sturdy enough to keep them grounded, but his biceps begin to burn as he attempts to give his friend a few pats on the back.
“H-Hey, dude,” he starts, patting his friend down even quicker than before. “Listen, I know you missed me and I sure as fuck missed you too but my arms aren’t as tough as you might think they are I’m gonna—”
