atehimrightup | (no subject)

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george

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For perhaps the first time in his life, Lee is looking forward to Christmas.

It was never really anything he paid much attention to before. If anything, all the garish decorations and twinkling lights annoyed him. Or maybe he told himself that's what it was, because seeing all the happy families and loving couples pressed in on some bruised part of his heart that ached with the desire to know what it felt like to be loved like that.

And now, by some miracle, he is.

This is the second Christmas that he's known George, but the first one doesn't really count. That was back when they were still pretending that their whole arrangement was casual, and fuckbuddies didn't really spend the holidays together. This year is different. Lee finds himself delighted to explain all the strange rituals of a modern Christmas to George, who seems fascinated and perturbed in equal measure.

They decorated a tree that Lee had determinedly gone out and chopped down, wanting to have the whole experience. The thing is kind of a mess of tinsel and twinkling lights, limbs weighed down with baubles he found at the thrift store. but it's also the best looking Christmas tree he's ever seen. Because it's theirs.

Now it's Christmas Eve and Lee has made a hearty roast for dinner, and a large batch of heavily spiked eggnog. They're curled up together on the sofa with an old Christmas movie playing on TV. George is a little tipsy, just enough for him to be loose-limbed and pink-cheeked, and Lee smiles as he presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

"So, are you ready for Santa to come down your chimney?" Lee teases, smiling at his own joke and pressing another kiss to George's hairline, one hand coming up to gently cradle his chin. “Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, sweetheart.”

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Lee holds his breath as George opens the box and stares at the ring, then lets it out in a rush as George smiles. Lee grins back, eyes crinkling at the corners. As soon as he saw the ring, he knew that he had to give it to George. It just seemed so perfect, so very them.

"Yeah, I had to get it resized," he says as George holds up his hand. The sight of the ring sitting there makes Lee feel a little like he's been kicked in the chest, but in a good way. His smile goes almost shy and he reaches out to take George's fingers in his hand, leaning in to press a kiss to his knuckles, and another to the ring. "I know these hands better than my own by now."

He smiles, watching Lee, cupping the side of his face with his free hand. He likes the way their hands look together, the rings, everything. "I got you some other little things," he says. "But this felt like the most important thing."

"Yeah, me too," Lee replies, breath catching slightly as George's other hand comes to rest on his face, thumbing at the freckles on his cheekbone. His heart is beating so fast, but he's used to that from George by now. It used to be that he only associated the thudding of his heart with fear, but not anymore.

"You're the most important thing," he says without quite intending to, chuckling at himself and blushing. "I just-- I really love you."

"I really love you, too," he says, threading their fingers together so that he can look at the rings that they're wearing side by side. "That really is the most perfect thing," he says, admiring the enamelled heart. "When I come from we could say we were married, now. *per verba de praesenti. *By the words of those present. Exchange promises, exchange rings. it would have been legally binding, then, too."

Lee stares down at the rings and the snaps his gaze up to George's face at the mention of marriage. He blinks rapidly and swallows hard, glancing down at the rings again. Getting married was something he was sure that he'd never have to think about. It just never seemed like a possibility and the whole thing is kind of silly, really. It's just a piece of paper.

But the way that George talks about it is nice. No ceremony, no courthouse. Just a promise between two people in love. Lee's chest feels tight and he breathes out slowly, opening his mouth and then shutting it again.

"Would you want that?" Lee asks in a thick voice, swallowing again and feeling stunned, like he's in a dream. "With me?"

"I can't imagine it with anyone else," he says, still looking at the rings -- the notes of blue that units them. He brushes the fingers of his free hand along Lee's jaw. "You're going to cry again." He's teasing, gently.

"Shut up," Lee says with a soft laugh, pushing George back against the couch so he can climb into his lap, straddling him and settling down atop his thighs. He swallows and takes George's hand again, cheeks read as he looks down at their rings.

"How would you do it?" He asks almost shyly. "I mean, what would you say?"

"Nothing special, as far as I understand it," says george, his hands sliding down to cup Lee's arse, squeezing gently. "Although, you'll understand, I'm not a lawyer and I never have been. We agree to see ourselves as...well, it would be have been husband and wife in my day. To be commited. To love no others." He shrugs. "And that would be our contract. Under law."

“You’re not? Well, the wedding’s off,” Lee quips, then cups George’s face in his hands, looking down at him very seriously.

“I’m committed to you. I love only you,” Lee tells him, thumbing at the corners of his eyes. “And I’ll be yours for as long as you’ll have me. You have my word.”

"Oh, well, alas," he says, smiling, but he sobers quickly when he sees the look on Lee's face. He kisses the heel of Lee's hand. "I love you always. Only you. You have my word on that."

Lee beams at him, eyes crinkling at the corners as George kisses his hand. His hands have done such terrible things, but George loves them anyway. He loves all of Lee, even the ugly parts.

“So, we’re married now?” He asks with an incredulous laugh, head spinning as he looks down at their rings again. It’s not legal, but that doesn’t matter. It’s real if they want it to be. “I never—“

He clears his throat and swallows hard before letting out another astonished huff of laughter.

"If you want to be," he says, because he honestly can't imagine anything better. He brushes dark curls back from Lee's face. "Will you Mrs Villiers, then? Am I to make an honest creature out of you?"

Neither of them will ever be honest creatures, and they both know it.

Lee laughs at that but there’s a sad sort of neediness in his gaze. The question was a joke, but a part of him wishes it wasn’t. Not all of it, at least.

“I wouldn’t make a very good wife,” he admits with a rueful smile, nuzzling into George’s palm and resting the scar on his cheek there. “But it would be nice to not share a last name with the man who tried to kill me.”

Who Lee then killed. It was justified at that point, practically a mercy killing, but Lee will have to live with that for the rest of his life, reminded of it whenever he sees his own name.

"I don't know about that," he says, stroking the side of Lee's face. He sees the vulnerability in his eyes, right then. "You have many of the qualities I'd look for in a wife." He gently tickles against Lee's ribs. "You could be richer." He sobers though, studying Lee's face for a moment. "Lee Villers. It has a nice ring to it."

“My dowry is a shitty pick up truck,” he jokes, squirming and slapping lightly at George’s wrist as he’s tickled. “But I do give great head.”

George looks at him more seriously and Lee swallow, going still as he stares back. His brows lift in surprise and he blinks rapidly, eyes going glassy.

“Lee Villiers,” he repeats quietly, feeling his heart thud in his chest. “It does sound nice.”

"You do. It's true." He smiles at the look on Lee's face, the way he tears up and the sound of the name when he says it. "It's yours. If you want it."

Lee blinks at that, stunned into silence by the offer. This is so much more than he ever would have expected to find in his life. He thought that he was destined to wander aimlessly forever, slugging through a life that he wasn’t even enjoying.

And then came George.

“I would like that very much,” he says with a wet chuckle, cheeks flushing as he leans in to press a firm kiss to George’s mouth. It lingers for a long moment and then he pulls away to press their foreheads together, laughing again. “Even if it makes me the wife.”

"I was teasing about that," he says, smudging his nose against the tip of Lee's, fingers pushed into his hair. "You don't have to be anything except just as you are. That's all I want. This life we already have."

“I know you were,” Lee says with another happy sound, eyes falling shut as George’s fingers drag across his scalp. He feels at home in a way he’s never known, like something he’s been searching for all his life has clicked into place.

“Say it again,” Lee says almost giddily, ducking his head to kiss along the side of George’s neck, nosing at the ticklish spot above his pulse as he wriggles his hips to get even closer.

His fingers stay pushed into Lee's hair, but he shifts, pulling back a little so that he can look Lee in the face when he says it.

"Lee Villiers? Or marry me?"

He pulls back and Lee almost chases after him, but instead blinks dazedly and looks him in the eye. The question makes him flush down past the collar of his shirt and he makes a sound almost like a whimper, low and animal.

“Both,” Lee gasps out, feeling warm all over, wriggling like an excited pup. He’s not sure that he’s ever been so happy, and it feels like he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “God, I love you.”

"I love you, too," he says, stroking his hand down Lee's back, her tipped back so that he can look at him properly. "More than anything. And i'm not sure I've heard anything I like as well as 'Lee Villiers', not in my entire life."

It's almost too much. There was a time, one not even all that long ago, where feeling so much of anything would have sent Lee running, but now that's the furthest thing from his mind. It's a lot, and it's fucking terrifying, but it's good.

Even after finding out the truth about Lee in the most horrific way, even after learning about all the terrible things he's done, George still wants him. He chose Lee on purpose. They're making a family all their own.

"It's a pretty good name," he admits with a watery chuckle, lifting a hand to sweep his fingers through George's soft hair. "Lee Villiers."

Saying it makes him feel almost giddy. He never gives his last name when introducing himself, never uses it unless he has to. He just feels no positive connection to it at all. It just reminds him of how bad everything was, and he's happy to be rid of it.

"Thank you," he says quietly, eyes shining as he leans in to kiss him again.

"Happy Christmas, my love," says George, smudging the tip of his nose against Lee's. He admires the ring on his index finger again. He's been given many gifts in his life but, it seems, nobody has ever given one so much thought. It might have been made for him.

"It really is perfect," he says, holding his hand up to the light. "And here's me, gifting you a hand me down."

It's not that. It's so much more than that.

It all feels like a dream. He’d be certain it was if not for all they went through to get here.

This feels like the first real Christmas he’s ever had. It feels like the beginning of forever and that’s so fucking terrifying, but only because he has so much to lose.

Their temples rest together as George admires his ring. Lee can feel the rise of George’s cheek as he smiles, and something loosens in his chest, warm and content. He scoffs playfully at the comment and reaches out to place his hand over George’s heart.

“You’ve given me the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” Lee assures him, lifting his hand to curl it under George’s chin so their eyes can meet, letting one side of his mouth lift into a warm smirk. “The ring is nice, too.”