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THE STROKES DO CHRISTMAS
There was no snow this year. The sun shone brightly and the sky was a perfect uniform blue, without a single wisp of cloud. The grass was green - *green,* for fuck's sake! - and there was a distinct lack of carolers swaddled in huge coats and furry hats. Julian didn't mind the lack of carolers part, but a couple flakes of snow would have been nice. "Fuckers," he muttered, glaring heavenward. "So much for a white fucking Christmas." He heard scuffling from the other room and put down his beer to check it out. Unsurprisingly, Albert and Fab were locked in a wrestling match under the tree. "I say the BLUE star goes at the top!" Fab whined. "RED star!" Albert argued, and pinned Fab on his back. "Blue, you bastard!" "Red, uncle fucker!" "BLUE!" "RED!" ...Crash. The highly-decorated Christmas tree wobbled... tipped precariously... and then it landed right on top of the two warring bandmates. Luckily, Nikolai had expected this particular catastrophe (seeing as it happened every single year) and bought plastic ornaments only. Fab wriggled out from under the bushy branches of the tree, his afro covered in tinsel, and spotted Julian. "Seriously, Jules, what do you think? Red or blue?" "Umm..." Julian glanced over at the box of ornaments. Most of them were on the tree already, but there were a few forgotten ones lying at the bottom. Beneath an ornament shaped like a blunt and one shaped like a naked woman, Julian saw a white star. He held it up. "How about this?" Albert heaved the tree back upright and eyed the star. "I dunno... white is such a dull color." "Yeah, it doesn't compliment the leafy greenness of the tree at all." Fab shook his head. "Blue, however, is an excellen - GAH!" Albert leaped on Fab's head and started to strangle him, which was an amusing sight, but got old quickly. Bored, Julian wandered away into the kitchen. Nick had taken over this particular part of the house, and had about sixteen different dishes stuffed into the rickety old stove. He was clad in a Santa hat and an apron that said "Kiss the Chef." Julian got a few wicked ideas, but Nick looked so busy mixing the gravy that he hung back instead. "Oh, hey Jules," Nick greeted him. "Wanna help?" "Yeah, sure." Julian leaned over the pot of gravy and tipped in most of his beer and stirred it around a little. Gourmet, indeed. "There we go. I'm gonna go find Nikolai." Nick hadn't noticed the adding of the beer, since he was already unloading eggs, flour, vegetable oil and sugar. "You're not gonna help me make the cake?" he asked, pouting a little. "Hm..." Julian glanced into his beer bottle. Most of the precious golden liquid was gone. "Nah. Sorry." Nick broke a few eggs into the bowl and got out a wooden spoon. "Okay. Tell Nikolai to keep an eye on Fab and Albert. I don't want those fuckers breaking anything." "Like their necks?" "Like the table." "Aha." Julian laughed and left the kitchen and made his way into the basement, where he knew Nikolai was wrapping presents. Nikolai was the only one who really bought presents; Fab just gave hugs, Albert claimed that "Christmas came early this year" - every year - and both Nick and Julian were usually too busy making dirty jokes about unwrapping each other's packages to care about anyone else. But Nikolai bought presents like it was religion. Julian pounded down the steps and nearly tripped on the rolls of wrapping paper and tape. "Jesus H. Christ, Nik... It's like a fucking warehouse down here." Nikolai sniffed haughtily as he taped up a brightly-colored present and tossed it onto a pile. "I happen to enjoy showing my friends how much I care about them with a token package or two. Unlike some people," he added. "Not mentioning any names. Julian." Julian snickered and hurled a tape dispenser at Nikolai, who ducked deftly and continued wrapping packages. "Nick says he wants you to watch Albert and Fab." "Why?" Nikolai asked, his mouth full of wrapping paper. Julian wondered what he was doing with wrapping paper in his mouth. "Because they're fighting and he doesn't want them to break anything." "Like Fab's hand?" "Like the table." "I see." Nikolai spat out the wrapping paper. "I'll go up there once I'm finished wrapping." "Which is approximately..." Julian eyed the monstrous pile of unwrapped presents. "...never?" Nikolai shrugged. "You're not doing anything except drifting around aimlessly like some sort of hostless parasite. Why don't you go watch them?" Julian blinked. "I... what?" Nikolai looked up, his mouth full of wrapping paper. "I said, why don't you go watch them? I'm busy and you're not. Do the math." Julian backed away slowly and went up the stairs and into the living room. All that wrapping must have messed up Nikolai's brain or something. Fab and Albert were still wrestling, rolling around like two afro- headed puppies. Julian kicked at the curly-topped bundle and one of them cussed loudly. They stopped tussling long enough to glance up. "You're still here?" they asked Julian in unison. "Umm..." Julian finished off the last of his beer and looked around for a trash can. Finding none, he simply sat the bottle on one of the branches of the Christmas tree. It made a very nice ornament, if he said so himself. Julian collapsed on the couch and yawned, and watched Fab and Albert attempt to decorate the tree without killing each other. He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, the sky was dark and the tree was strung with lights and the two afros were nowhere in sight. The house was quiet. This was odd. Julian stood up, rubbing his eyes. The house wasn't totally quiet - he heard humming from the kitchen. He stumbled down the hall and stood in the doorway, and saw Nick still standing by the stove. His hat was gone, as was the apron, and he was wearing jeans and a simple black t-shirt. There was flour in his hair and smudged on his face. Julian stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Nick from behind. Nick straightened and glanced behind him, and Julian kissed his jaw. "Jules... I thought you were downstairs too." "Hm?" "The others are all downstairs wrapping presents, I think." Nick tangled his fingers with Julian's. "Mmm... I see." Julian nuzzled the soft skin of his neck, tasting him gently with his tongue. "They gonna be down there for a while?" "I think so," Nick murmured, tilting his head back and rubbing against Julian. Julian slipped a hand up under Nick's shirt and stroked the flat muscle of his stomach, then crept his fingers downward until they were working at the button of his jeans. Nick moaned breathlessly and guided Julian's hand, and Julian sucked softly on the pale skin of Nick's exposed neck. He slipped the jeans off Nick's hips and -- Fab came crashing up the steps and kicked open the basement door. "WE'RE READY!!!" he crowed. "Let's go, bitches! Dinner then presents!" "No way! Presents THEN dinner!" Albert argued, shoving Fab aside. Julian and Nick jerked away from each other and Nick hastily buttoned up his jeans, blushing furiously. "Christ," Julian whispered, rubbing his temples. Fab and Albert were on the floor of the hall, wrestling, and Nick hauled them both up by their collars. "We do dinner first, then presents, okay? And if I see you two fighting again, I'm gonna tie your hands behind your back and stuff you in the fucking closet." Fab cowered in fear and Albert sulked, but dinner went by relatively uneventfully. Julian noted the beer gravy seemed to have no effect on anyone except Nikolai. Odd. After dinner, Nikolai, who seemed to be drunk as fuck, went upstairs and fell asleep. Fab and Albert tore through the presents, barely looking at what was inside before moving on to the next present. Knee deep in torn wrapping paper, Julian and Nick watched them and made dirty jokes about unwrapping each other's packages when suddenly Fab shrieked. "You guys! LOOK!" He pointed out the window. Nick, Albert, Fab and Julian all crowded up to the window. Outside, it was dark, but every house was lit up to the point of being a fire hazard. And from the sky fell tiny little flakes of snow, few and far apart, but there no less. "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas..." Julian murmured. "I'm dreaming of something else," Nick whispered in his ear. The two of them stumbled up the stairs. shedding clothes quickly, but Fab and Albert didn't even notice. The two of them were standing side by side, quiet, in front of the window. "That flake looks like George Bush," Fab said. "No it doesn't," Albert argued. "It looks like Homer Simpson!" "Nuh uh!" Fab yelled. "GEORGE BUSH!" "That's it, bitch! You're going DOWN!" |