RPF: Hearts Be Light - James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
This fic is a Christmas present for the wonderful, lovely Gokuma. A merry Christmas to all my friends and readers!
Hearts Be Light
I don't think I have ever loved another person the way I love you, James. I didn't intend on you becoming my life in this way, but I am so incredibly glad that you did.
I thought that I was as happy as I could be, before I met you, but I realise now that I wasn't. I was merely content. You made me happier than I thought I could be: indeed, than I ever aspired to be.
I love that you put bit of weight about this time of year, how you complain about it but it doesn't stop you from eating mince pies. I love the pink-red of your flushed cheeks when you come in from the cold and I have to kiss you warm and nibble the tips of your frozen ears and nose 'til you thaw. I love how at night we get into bed and build a fort of pillows and duvets and blankets to fight off the cold, and you kiss me under our covers and it's our castle that no one else can enter. I love watching you bake Christmas treats, because you're so good at it and no one knows, especially when there's nutella in the recipe and you let me eat a spoonful and pretend you didn't notice. My heart swells to look at you. It's like nothing I've ever felt before.
You were more beautiful than ever that day, James. It was the 23rd of December, "Christmas Eve Eve" as you called it. You smelled of pine, and therefore of Christmas; it snowed a little in the afternoon, as we sat outside of that cafe in Covent Garden and as you sipped your gingerbread latte a few of the flakes landed on your dark eyelashes, lingered for a moment and then melted. Christmas so suits you, my darling. Your pale skin and your bright blue eyes are offset by the blank sky: it isn’t blue in Winter, but it isn’t grey, it’s a dull white that makes every one of your features so clear. You suit the surroundings, the lights and the green and red of the street decorations, you fit in with the comfort of being curled up in front of a fire. Sometimes, with you in my arms, I’d look out of the window at the dark night’s sky and the tumbling snow and something in me would thrill, like I felt as a child waiting for Father Christmas. I love you, James, like a child loves this beautiful eve.
Snow had fallen the night before, covering the whole of London in a beautiful thick blanket of white, and fell still more in the afternoon. You kissed me and left me in the city- you told me to get the tube home, that you had some last minute, secret Christmas shopping to do. I returned your smile and left you, and all the way home I listened to ridiculous and cheesy Christmas music all the way home, and almost hated myself for being so happy. But not quite.
It was already dark when you came in late afternoon. You shook the snow out of your hair, and a few strands fell into your eyes. I swept them away to kiss you softly. You took hold of my hips and pulled me closer, and whispered words that melted on my skin.
"I love you," you whispered, "Merry Christmas."
And I realised, for the first and last time, that I would never love anyone else.