'tis the damn season
2018 31 Days of Ficmas, day 23 - love
@doctorroseprompts
31 Days of Ficmas masterlist
Summary: Coming home for Christmas is supposed to be all joy and happiness - until it returns you to the boy next door, whose heart is still bleeding a decade later.
Chasing dreams sometimes requires sacrifices. The question is - can the lost ever be found?
Inspired by the TS song of the same name, but not a songfic
Rated M - sexual themes & language
AO3
---
Pulling into the drive Rose put the car into park but didn’t shut off the engine, still undecided on if she’d stay, even after two soul-crushing hours on the highways fighting her way out of London into the countryside.
She had plenty of reasons to stay, of course – her family waited inside the nicely decorated house, surely full of warmth and good cheer and happiness at her presence. She needed a break from life in the city, the relentless grind of struggling to make rent and stay true to her dream, time away from the hustle and bustle of tourists and shoppers clogging every street.
All of that, against a single reason to stay away.
An involuntary glance at the next cottage over showed it was decorated the same way as every other year over the past two decades, with a hauntingly familiar figure standing in the drive, rubbish bag in hand, staring at her with a disbelieving frown, as if wondering why she was here- how she could dare to be here.
“Fuck this,” she said aloud, shivering from the ice in his gaze, which had once been so warm and loving, and put the car into reverse just as the door to her house opened and a blur flew out, shrieking her name and announcing her presence to the entire village. “Bloody hell.”
Can’t leave now. It was almost as an apology to the house next door, but he was already gone if he’d been there at all, or only a figment of her guilty conscience.
“Rosie!” Her brother was at her car door now, tapping on the window and positively beaming. “Rosie! Hi Rosie!”
Forcing a smile she waved back, before holding up one finger and shooing him back slightly. He obeyed, bouncing on his toes and nearly tripping over his own feet in delight. At least someone wants me to be here. Shaking her head at his antics, smile real now, she grabbed her purse and turned off the engine, taking a deep breath before opening the door.
“Tony! Happy Christmas, baby.”
“It’s not Christmas yet,” he said, nearly tackling her, and her heart fractured a bit as his arms went clear around her waist; he hadn’t been able to do that when they’d last hugged goodbye two months earlier after his birthday. He’s getting so big, and I’m missing it.
“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving so soon,” Jackie called from the door, equal parts teasing and dead serious. “Come in, won’t you? It’s freezing.”
The window of opportunity gone for good Rose just sighed, getting her weekender from the boot as Tony chatted away about the plans for the holiday.
Hesitating at the threshold, she cast one last glance at the house next door. But the view was innocuous, a typical village cottage decorated for Christmas, giving no hint as to the pain and longing and what-if it’s four walls held for her.
“Ro-ose!”
Pasting on a grin, she stepped inside. “I’m home! Let the holidays begin!”
‘tis the season.
-
Half-heartedly washing the dishes, Rose’s focus was out the kitchen window, straight across to the house next door and through an identical kitchen window to where he was. He hadn’t seen her, or was maybe ignoring her –he was washing dishes same as her but smiling and laughing, engaging with whoever else was in the kitchen with him. The mature part of her hoped it was someone who cared about him, who made him happy.
The jealous, bitter, regretful part of her hoped he didn’t. Well, Rose, you know what they say about people who make their bed…
“They’ll be here tomorrow.”
She started at her stepfather’s murmur, head snapping towards where he stood, drying the dishes for her. “What?”
“They’ll be over for dinner tomorrow,” Alan repeated, with a sympathetic, knowing look. “Your mother wanted to surprise you, but I thought you ought to know. This conversation never happened.”
“I…” The thought both terrified and thrilled her – he wouldn’t be able to avoid her in the tiny cottage. I can’t avoid him either, though. “Thanks.”
He smiled, patting her shoulder in a fatherly way. “His last relationship ended recently, so… be kind. To him, and yourself. I hate to watch you hurt – either of you.”
Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but they didn’t fall. “Thanks, Alan. I’m really glad she found you.”
“Me too,” he said easily. “The key was to not let her pretend there’s anything more important in life than being happy – because if you don’t have that, you have nothing, even if you’ve got everything.”
His words were heavy with meaning, and she didn’t even know how to begin to respond, but was saved by her mother.
“Well, that’s the rugrat down,” Jackie announced her presence, seemingly oblivious to their conversation. “Finally, I can have five minutes with my firstborn without him monopolizing you.” She wrapped her arms tightly around Rose, and Rose rested her head against her mother’s shoulder as they swayed to the soft music playing from the other room. “How’re you?”
Rose forced a smile, focusing on their reflection in the window instead of the distant view. Future, not past, she reminded herself – it had become her mantra, particularly after a career setback, of which there’d been many. The family that is, not what could have been. “I’m good. Been busy – it’ll be nice to relax. What’s new here?”
Jackie freed her to go for wine glasses with Alan watching her, the look of a man totally besotted with his wife.
Somehow, she felt even lonelier than she had before she’d left London, here surrounded by the people she loved most in the world.
Well, most of them.
-
Finally finding a parking spot after three trips up and down the main road, Rose pulled in next to the church, grabbing her purse and list before getting out.
The weather seemed to know it was almost Christmas; the air was properly cold, with the occasional flake falling. Little chance of a white Christmas, but just the hint of snow set the seasonal mood – at least for those inclined towards it. Today, that wasn’t Rose, and the low temperature merely added to her certainty that coming here had been a mistake.
There’s a reason I don’t come home for the holidays, she thought sourly, getting one of the last carts on her way into Tesco’s and flinching at the mob of people – the store was loud, with chatter and business and jaunty carols blaring from the speaker system.
Bad enough she’d been woken at seven by her brother jumping on her and screaming Tomorrow is Christmas! Santa comes tonight! directly in her ear. When she shuffled out in search of a cuppa, she’d been presented with a mug – and a list of errands to run.
It’s Christmas. I’m here to celebrate with Tony. I’m doing this for my family.
Despite recognizing most of the people in the Tesco she thankfully didn’t get stopped for more than a few seconds in any particular conversation – everyone was hustling about, preparing for their own celebrations, and she was grateful for the reprieve. One positive to coming at Christmas, I suppose – everyone’s so busy.
The song changed to Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas for the third time in twenty minutes just as she came around a corner too fast and hit a cart with her own. “Oh, fuck! Sorry, I-”
She stopped dead, staring at him.
“Hello,” he said evenly, almost coldly; polite, as though they were, perhaps, passing acquaintances at best; as if he didn’t know every inch of her, as if she hadn’t mapped every freckle on his body, as if there hadn’t been a torrential love affair, complete with the devastating, messy ending.
She opened her mouth, not knowing what might come out – hello, or how are you, or fancy meeting you here or why didn’t you come with me or want to shag in the loo – and was not prepared for the tender tone when “Hi, James,” escaped.
His expression flickered, like the very sound of her voice caused him pain – she knew because she felt the same, like it cut to the quick of her like a knife through soft butter. “I guess I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yeah- yes. Apparently.” Rose lifted the list. “Should be quite the shindig.”
James nodded, and oh, her hands ached to ruffle his carefully styled hair, to tease it wild, to grasp it as his teasing made her wild, and fuck she knew she should’ve brought her vibrator with her.
“I should…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely, and she nodded.
“No, yeah, me too.”
They lingered for another moment, before Rose’s heart couldn’t take it any more. “Well, see you,” she said, pushing carefully past him.
And if their bodies brushed against each other for only a moment, making her shudder, well, no one was the wiser.
-
Making it through the checkout without seeing him again had Rose thinking she’d successfully avoided him, only to spot him a few paces ahead of her on the sidewalk towards where she was parked.
Slowing down, she trailed after him, hopes falling when he stopped at the truck next to her car – she’d have to walk past him.
Fuck.
He noticed her, then, as she tried to sidle past. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Giving up on her pathetic attempt at sneaking around, she faced him head on. “How’re you?”
“Oh, you know.” Hands in his pockets, he rocked side to side. “Listen, we’re adults, right?”
“Yeah?”
James shrugged one shoulder in a would-be-carefree way. “D’you want to get a cuppa? Catch up a bit?”
She glanced towards the only café in town, which was decked out for the holidays and full of people. The idea of any conversation being overheard – or worse, turned into village gossip – made her flinch. “We could just ride around for a bit instead?”
A cheeky grin flashed across his face before settling into a more passive smile. “Sounds good.”
He waited patiently as she put the groceries in her car; nothing was refrigerated, and it was cold enough anyway that it would all keep until they returned. Nervous as hell, but knowing she owed it to him and would take whatever he was willing to offer, she got into his truck and was instantly transported back to being a teenager. Maybe this was a mistake flashed across her mind, but he’d already pulled out of the spot and was heading out of town.
“How’s London?” he started, turning the heat on and relaxing into his seat, glancing at her. “Everything you dreamed of?”
Of course not, knob, you’re not there. “Pretty much!” She put as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could, in a see life’s great without you way. “I love so much about it – the hustle and bustle, the places to go and things to do, how there are actual places open after six!”
James laughed at that. “Well, I’ll give you that the last part sounds half-appealing. New things to try are always good. I keep meaning to go in, but haven’t managed it yet.”
“Well, let me know if you do,” she offered impulsively. “I’ve got a couch.”
The smile slid from his face, eyes intense as he held her gaze, sending butterflies sparking in her belly. He would never come in, she knew in her heart, but if he did, he wouldn’t be on her couch.
I miss you.
“We’ll see.” His noncommittal tone ended the conversation, and Rose focused instead out the windscreen at the bare trees and familiar country roads.
And then he abruptly pulled into a layby, put the truck into park, and turned to face her. “Are you really happy there? Was it worth everything?"
No. Rose closed her eyes and turned her face away, hating how well he knew her but still had to try. “Yep!”
“Rose.” His hand on her cheek was more gentle than it had any right to be, turning her to face him. Blinking her eyes open, she found his brown eyes so warm and patient. Loving.
She just smiled at him, knowing he could see the sadness there, that he was the only one who knew when she was faking them. “I made my choice,” she said softly. “And I still want to be a singer.”
His thumb caressed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, holding his gaze. There was an ache there she felt in her own bones, a shared longing for what could have been. In that moment, she would have given him anything he asked for – everything he asked for. If he begged her to come home, or just kissed her, she would cling to him like a life preserver.
But he didn’t.
He just removed his hand, and restarted the truck, heading back into town and leaving their hearts in pieces on the cold ground.
Just as she had, a decade earlier.
-
She found the crushed red velvet dress buried in the back of her closet, and still lost in thoughts of the road not taken, she couldn’t help but pull it on. It still fit, and she wondered what he would think when he saw it, or if it was even appropriate to wear, given its history with their relationship.
The picture was still tucked into the side of her mirror, of them together on that night at fifteen when they first shared I love yous, his suit matching her dress entirely by accident, or kismet, or serendipity.
She’d also worn it that Christmas Eve when she first told him of her dream of moving to London to pursue music.
Why are there so many ghosts at Christmas?
“Rose, come help, would you?” her mother called, and she lost the chance to change. Stepping into her heels she hurried out to help, grateful when Jackie didn’t comment on her outfit and only put her to work.
She’d almost forgotten about it until the door opened and there he was, in black jeans and a bright Christmasy jumper, complete with Santa hat.
“Hi.”
He didn’t respond, eyes merely raking over her as his mother and grandfather greeted her, joining the other guests already gathered. He trailed after them, walking backwards to keep her in his sight, and she wondered what he was thinking.
Maybe this was a mistake. She hated how often the thought had come to her from the moment they tearily kissed goodbye.
-
Two hours and twenty conversations later (well, the same conversation with twenty different people), Rose grabbed an unopened bottle of wine and slipped away to her bedroom, settling on the floor beside her bed and unscrewing the cap to take a few large gulps.
The door opened then shut a moment later and she was utterly unsurprised when James settled next to her, merely passed him the bottle.
“This is shit,” he said conversationally, coughing on the first sip. “Who brought this?”
“Your mother.”
“That explains it.”
They shared a grin, which faded as they locked eyes.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She nodded, taking the bottle back.
“I know you’re happy in London, no regrets, whatever, but… do you ever think about what could have been? Road not taken, and all of that?”
Rose leaned her head back against the mattress, eyes searching his expression. “Do you?” she challenged him. “You were the one who didn’t want to find a way to make it work.”
“I refused to hold you back,” he corrected, grabbing the wine. “You decided your dreams were more important than us.”
“So I should have given up on my dream to what, be your wife? Have your babies? Never be anything more than that?”
James gave her an impatient look. “You might dye your hair blonde now, but you’re not stupid. You know very well that wasn’t what I meant. You weren’t willing to compromise.”
“I was dying here!” she burst out. “I was, and you know it. I was suffocating. I had to go. I had to. And you knew that, but you were perfectly happy to stay!”
“The fuck I was! Rose, if you were suffocating, how am I supposed to believe anything but that I was what was suffocating you? If I went with you to London, how were you supposed to breathe? How would that make anything better? You made it very clear you wanted away from me, you didn’t want us, or what we could have been. I’m not an idiot either, I know every time you said Gallifrey you meant James. ‘Gallifrey is too small, too stuck in the past, too unwilling to change’. I know you meant me. Why would I follow you somewhere I don’t want to go, when you didn’t want me to go with you and we both knew it?”
His words were a stab to the heart, and she spluttered out nonsense, coming up on her knees and turning to face him. His eyes were shining, and terribly sad. Reaching out, she cupped his cheek, stroking it with her thumb as he had in the truck earlier.
“You’re the stupidest fucking person on the whole fucking planet.”
James’ mouth opened in outrage but she surged forward, pressing her mouth to his. He tasted sweet, from the wine and nibbles, and only hesitated a moment before returning the kiss.
“You were the only reason to stay,” she whispered against his lips. “Of course I wanted you with me, and my complaints about Gallifrey were just that – about here. This town with no privacy and no future – except for you. I didn’t want to leave you, I wanted to leave with you. I said it a thousand times!”
“I didn’t believe you,” he replied softly. “I didn’t want you to go, but I would have gone with you if I thought you wanted that. But you didn’t. It was so, so clear to me that you wanted freedom.”
“Freedom for us. Away from our mothers, and all the people who’ve known us our whole lives, who were already planning our wedding and naming our babies. I wanted us to go somewhere we could just… be. Where we didn’t have to sneak around, or have a potential landlord remember when we were inseparable three year olds.” She leaned back, lip trembling. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want all of the things you wanted, I just didn’t want them here.” She searched his eyes. “Have you spent all this time thinking I didn’t want you? That I don’t miss you every day?”
His tone was sullen. “You’ve certainly hidden it well.”
Rose pulled back further, heart thumping painfully, pulse pounding. This is it, she realized. If not now, never. “I love you. I love you more than I did when I left you, and I loved you so damn much then. I want to spend my life with you. I’m more sure of that with every day that has passed since I left – since you watched me leave. And if you want to stay here, we can work something out – I’m willing to try if you are.”
James’ expression was inscrutable, his eyes deep with emotion. “I don’t want to hold you back,” he said softly. “I don’t want to keep you from your dream.”
She didn’t know what to say, what words would convince him of her feelings, of what she wanted. But sometimes, words weren’t enough anyway.
Swinging her leg across his she settled in his lap, moving slow as she leaned down to kiss him, heart dropping when his hands caught her biceps and kept her from closing the gap.
“There’s no going back,” he said firmly. “I won’t have you part time, and I won’t be an afterthought. I fully support you and your dream, but I won’t just be yours on the weekends.”
“I can’t move back here. Not permanently. I love you, I want you, but I can’t.”
“That’s okay.” He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “I know someone in London with a couch.” His lips twitched upwards, giving her hope.
She pursed her lips, pretending to consider that. “I hope you don’t mean me, because you’re not sleeping on my couch.”
“No?” His hands slid down her body to her bum, shifting her until she was against a familiar, growing bulge. “Not even if I’m being naughty?”
Lips curling, Rose leaned in until their chests were touching, mouth directly against her ear. “Why would you be anywhere but the bed if you’re being naughty?”
“I’m thinking about being naughty beside a bed. Does that count?”
Pulling back she considered him, crossing her arms. “For real, though. Are you offering to move to London?”
James swallowed. “Not immediately, but within… the next six months? I do have a life here, and a job. I haven’t spent the last ten years doodling in my journal waiting for you to come back and get me. We may have changed over that time too, and need to get to know each other again. But yes, assuming things go well, I’d be willing.”
“Good enough for me.” Grabbing her dress at the sides she pulled it up over her head, leaving her in an unsexy but relatively matching set of knickers. “Prove it.”
Surging forward he laid her out on her back, and it was as if no time had passed at all; a decade apart and other lovers fell away as they frantically reunited on the thematically appropriate shag rug, not bothering to properly undress first.
“For the record,” she whispered, as they shuddered and moved together, “this is where the road not taken always leads to. Here. With you.”
He tangled their fingers together, grasping her hand tightly. “I’ve been right here, waiting for you.”
His other hand found her between them, and her back arched, panting. “I’m here, I’m here- ah!”
-
After, as they snuggled on the rug and caught their breath, he said, “It seems appropriate to reunite on Christmas Eve. Having the conversation we should have had this night a decade ago.”
“Mhmm.” Rose stroked her nails along his back, loving when he shivered and twitched against her. “Well, you know what they say.”
“What?”
“’Tis the season!”
