A Christmas story for our boys :) It was just a quick thought I had. I haven’t had a whole lot of time to read through it or anything, so feel free to edit it if you want!
Billy had been watching Goodnight for the past day or so, completely perplexed. The Cajun had insisted they stay for the holidays in this town–and it had to be this particular town, not the one that they had just left–and he had grown increasingly vexed at not being able to find a particular sort of tree. Billy’s confusion grew into concern when he returned to their hotel room that evening to find a tiny, rather pathetic looking coniferous branch stuck haphazardly in a pot and made to stand upright.
“Goody…what is that?”
Goodnight gave a flustered half-smile.
“Can’t celebrate Christmas without a tree. It just ain’t right. This was the best I could find though.”
Billy’s expression didn’t change to reflect the sinking in his chest. He had heard of Christmas more than enough since coming to America, but it had never been an occasion for joy for him. He had spent his whole life working hard for next to nothing, and they had been shunned and spat upon. He had no family here; Goody was the closest thing he’d had. This was the first Christmas with the man and he had no idea that it was such an important thing to him.
“Back in Nawlins, the Robicheaux family had the house decorated to the top. My momma used to make my daddy go find the biggest damn tree he could get his hands on, and we’d spend days decorating it. This can’t hardly hold a candle to that, but it’s the spirit that matters.”
“It looks fine to me,” Billy said, unsure of what else to really say.
Goodnight seemed to notice his friend’s lack of enthusiasm for the first time. “Everything alright, mon cher?”
“Everything is fine, Goody.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t really gotten you anything yet. Hopefully I can have a little something under the tree for you to open,” Goodnight continued, beaming despite his apparent worry. “It might not be all that much. We used to have piles under our tree, at least three for everyone.”
Billy smiled at his partner’s excitement. He had not even thought about a gift for Goody. He had no idea what to get him. He knew that the man liked cigarettes and good whiskey, but finding somewhere in this town that would actually sell to him could be difficult. Goody usually did the talking and the dealing. Billy was the man of action.
Billy spent the rest of the evening half listening to Goodnight ramble on about the holidays of his younger years as he thought about what he could do for his partner.
—————— —————————— —————–
The two days leading up to Christmas were both quiet and bustling, if that was at all possible. Nothing went on, they held no competitions, and yet Goody was a flurry of activity trying to track down what would be needed to celebrate the holiday according to tradition. Billy still did not understand, but he did his best to humor the Cajun, and helped when he could.
Christmas day he woke to a little box under their tree branch in the corner of the room. Goodnight was positively giddy as Billy looked at it curiously. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine. It had his name written on it. He held it awkwardly in his hands and found himself just kind of staring at it. It was weighty in his hands. It felt like it was just a block of solid wood but he doubted that Goodnight do that.
“You gotta open it, then,” Goodnight urged, ringing his hands together in anticipation.
Billy awkwardly untied the twine, carefully unfolding the paper. Underneath was a plain wooden box with a heavy latch. He opened it slowly. Inside, nestled in a soft fabric lining, was a beautiful hand-tooled leather belt. Beside it was a heavy pouch taking up the entire left side. Billy pulled the belt out and ran his hands over it. It was plain and elegant in its simplicity. He appreciated the functional rather than the showy.
He set the belt back down gently and opened up the pouch. Inside were eight weighted knives, all silver-plated and exquisitely patterned. He took one out and felt the weight in his hand. It was well-balanced, like an extension to his arm. He tested his movements with it, moving through each step with practiced ease. Each one looked like it had been crafted by a master.
“Goody…” Billy was normally quiet and stoic, but this time he truly could not find the words. The belt had loops designed for each blade, designed for easy reach and optimal placing in a fight.
Goodnight was positively glowing, obviously seeing how much Billy appreciated the gift. “Here, let me help you get it on.”
Billy stood still as Goodnight slipped the belt around his waist, sliding each knife into place for him and tightening the buckle carefully so that it sat comfortably. It was a little heavy and would take some getting used to. He ran his hands over each slot, familiarizing himself with their location.
“I gotta say, it looks a hell of a lot better on you than in that box,” Goodnight said, his face flushed with excitement and other feelings. “I put in the order a couple months ago when we came through here the first time. That’s why we had to come back here.”
“Goody, I’m sorry,” Billy started. He reached into his pocket hesitantly. This gift made his look so pitiful in comparison. “I didn’t…”
“Oh mon cher, you don’t have to say anything and I didn’t want a damn thing but to see you in this getup,” Goody answered. He raised a hand to Billy’s face, his thumb trailing gently over the fine cheekbone. “I know…I know things have been hard for you before. I wanted to give you something else to remember when it came to these days.”
Billy pulled the little carving out of his pocket and offered it wordlessly. Nowhere would deal with him. It had been all he could manage. Goodnight’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his long fingers cradling the gift as he examined it. The little horse was meant to be Goodnight’s mare, one of the few things that Goodnight still held dear. It was probably the best work that Billy had ever done. The front hooves were lifted and ready to run, the head was tilted back with pride; it reminded Billy more of Goodnight himself than his horse.
“It’s nothing,” Billy finally managed, looking down at his belt. “No one would deal with me.”
He felt a tender touch on his chin lifting his face to look up. Sad blue eyes met his deep brown ones, and Goodnight’s lips curled in a small smile.
“It’s perfect, Billy. That’s my Cherie, alright. I love it.”
Billy allowed himself to be pulled into a tight hug. He reached up slowly and wrapped his arms around Goodnight, the warmth and closeness and his smell–the smell of cigarettes and whiskey and cologne–better than anything.
“Merry Christmas, Goody.”
Goodnight’s grip on him tightened and he pressed a kiss to Billy’s neck.
“Merry Christmas, Billy.”
Note (read as “fangirl shrieking”) from coffeeandtin: This is so sweet! I love that Goody got a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. And he got Billy his belt! Headcanon, accepted! The name you gave his horse is perfect! And I don’t know if you know this or not, but it’s my headcanon that Billy whittles! This was such a treat! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING WITH US!!!
