Chapter Text
‘Star is determined. Swaddled in his his winter jacket and scarf, he only has one goal in mind as he trudges through the supermarket past all of the people in their similar dress, shopping carts in tow. He didn’t bother to take a cart of his own, in fact, he didn’t even grab a basket. He was too excited to get to the back. To get to the cooler with all of the dairy products and find those little white cartons with the bright red bows and holly on them.
It’s eggnog season. And ‘Star doesn’t know when he got so excited about that and Christmas, but he certainly has. It’s only December 1st.
“So are you, like, hoarding those? Have we got some kinda underground bunker you haven't told me about yet?” Ric is at his side, as usual, and joking, as usual. “Man, I knew I shouldn't have let you binge-watch Doomsday Preppers.” And then he's smiling at him, gentle, the way he used to do when 'Star didn't quite get his jokes. “Can I carry some of that for you, hot stuff? You look like you need a hand.”
“Are you flirting with me or making fun of me?” ‘Star asks him. He’s still got a smile on his face despite Ric’s teasing. “I will have you know that we would be far more prepared for the end of the world than anyone on that ridiculous television program. Even without eggnog.” He places a carton in Ric’s hand and turns back to grab a few more. “They only sell this for a month. It would be a wasted opportunity if I only bought a single carton.”
“Can't I flirt and make jokes at the same time?” Ric nudges him aside with his hip, reaching for the next row of cartons. 'Star notices that they're beginning to attract quite a few stares from passers-by. He has no doubt that Ric has noticed too, but Ric doesn't seem to care. “Seriously, let me at least carry some of it.”
“People should understand how to be festive. I am slightly concerned no one else seems to be interested in gathering holiday beverages.” ‘Star hands Ric two other cartons, but still has an arm full of his own. “I should have gotten a basket.”
“We can come back,” Ric reassures him, slowly disappearing behind the tall stack of cartons 'Star is placing in his arms. “Or we can hit up another store, see if they've still got any left. Don't worry, man. I've got you covered.”
“I think twelve will do for now. It will last at least two weeks. We will need to come back at a later date to get more for the rest of the month.” ‘Star doesn’t quite remember when he had eggnog for the first time, but like any other food item he’s grown to enjoy, Ric makes sure not to scold him about it. He can’t say as much for the other patrons at the grocery store they frequent.
“I remember when you said you didn't like this stuff,” Ric says. “And now you're all about it. What changed?”
“Expectation versus reality. It is delicious despite its dubious origins and ingredients. An egg-based drink does not sound particularly appetizing, but Earth cuisine is often more than meets the eye.” ‘Star knows Ric isn’t of the same mindset as he is in regards to eggnog or any other type of sugary beverage he enjoys, but still. A true answer is a true answer. He shuffles past Ric, armful of cartons threatening to spill from his arms as he makes eyes at an adjacent isle. “Did we need anything else?”
“Uh…” Ric looks from one side of the aisle to the other, glancing at the milk, the bread, the eggs. “You know what? We can come back for the other stuff. Let's just get this stuff home.”
“Always full of good ideas.” ‘Star smiles at him, leans close and kisses him on the cheek.
—
It’s snowier when they leave the store than it was when they went in. The sidewalks aren’t abandoned, but there is a quiet in the air that tells ‘Star that people have left the snowy streets in hopes to get home before they had difficulties doing so. He supposes he and Rictor are lucky that they only live a few blocks away. He holds his armful of shopping bags close, taking a deep breath of cold air and watching his breath as it puffs out, still warm against all the snowflakes. He thinks he likes it best like this, sparkling lights reflecting blue in a snow covered world. It’s so far removed from the sweltering yellow deserts and alkaline swamps of his home planet. ‘Star finds it hard believe that this is all real from time to time.
Ric’s voice cuts through the silence. “I probably shoulda put my gloves on before we walked out,” he laments through gritted teeth. He has both hands full, carrying shopping bags, and 'Star can see his bare hands peeking out past the cuffs of his thick leather jacket, knuckles turning pink with cold. “Or brought a backpack. Or… whatever. At least we're almost home.”
“Let’s walk,” ‘Star advises. He feels the cold on his cheeks despite his scarf, healing factor ramping up his body temperature to compensate. “I would not want you to get frostbite a block away from our house.” His boots crunch in the snow as he moves past Ric, flashing him a private smile before they continue on their way.
He likes this time of year a lot, and he likes it better when there's not so many people around to ruin it. 'Star enjoys the solitude, the quiet kind of magic that comes with walking along a snowy street in between strings of coloured lights, glancing into strangers’ windows and seeing decorated trees and lit candles and wondering about what goes on in their lives. He used to think life on earth must be terribly boring, and that the humans there must be the same.
Now he knows he was wrong. The smallest, most mundane things can be the most interesting. He finds himself thinking a lot about other people, about what they do, what they care about, what they find meaning in. He's not disdainful, nor is he envious; he's just curious, interested. It's a big world out there. He wants to see it all, but sometimes he doesn't mind just looking at it through a window, from a distance.
Distracted, it takes him a few seconds to notice the absence of the sound of Ric's boots in the snow. When he looks back, Ric is standing under the awning on somebody's stoop a few doors back, rubbing his cold hands together, the shopping bags sitting in a half-circle around his feet.
“Sorry,” he calls out to 'Star. “I just need a second.”
“Are you alright?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it, trailing back over his own set of footprints as he makes his way back to where Ric is standing. “Sometimes I forget how cold it is.” He takes Ric’s hands in his, feeling the chill before squeezing them tightly. “This should help.”
There's this look that Ric gives him every now and then, not often, but often enough that 'Star recognizes it. It's the look he gets when 'Star catches him off guard with something - when he runs in to fight at his side, when he kisses him breathless, sometimes when he steps out of the shower without a towel. His eyes widen and his lips part in something close to awe and he's speechless if only for a second, and when his guard is down he lets 'Star in, lets him catch a glimpse of how he really feels about him. Ric looks at him as though he's the centre of the universe. It is… an honor, 'Star thinks, to be thought of so highly, though one he's not sure he's deserving of.
“I'm fine,” Ric mumbles, and the blush on his cheeks is half because of the cold, and half not. “It helps,” he adds, quieter.
“You will not be fine if you do not put your gloves on. Are they in your pocket? I can get them for you,” ‘Star tells him. He’s still staring at him, looking right into his eyes and holding his hands in his own. The stillness of the air around them makes him feel like they are the only people here. It’s nice and it helps him focus. “Just… give me a moment.” ‘Star breathes in the cold air again and when he exhales, he’s kissing Ric, pulling him close with their hands together. Two people together in a flurry of snowflakes.
He feels Ric melt under his lips, feels him give in to the kiss as though he's been waiting for it all night. It's so rare to see him so serious. Ric, when he's all raw emotion without the sarcasm and snide jokes to cover it, has an intensity that almost frightens him. He doesn't do anything by halves.
It's something like a trust fall - he lets himself slip, and trusts 'Star to be there to catch him, lift him up, care for him the way he can only admit he needs through actions instead of words. He shows it in the way he lets 'Star kiss him - normally he's playful, teasing, bossy if he's in the right mood, but now he's quiet, gentle and soft. In a way, it shows that he needs it more. He lays himself bare, in a sense, and 'Star takes it upon himself to take care of him. To warm him up like he's doing right now.
‘Star doesn’t want to pull back, but he does, the warmth of it all seeming to ooze out between them.
“Thank you for coming to the store with me,” ‘Star tells him, sincere as ever. Ric doesn’t have to do anything like this with him. Small tasks, all these normal human things. They must be so boring to him, but Ric always comes along without fail.
“Wouldn't miss it,” Ric mumbles. He seems dazed, like he entered some world of his own (or their own, 'Star thinks, shared) and wasn't quite ready to be snapped out of it. His hands are still in 'Star's, still cold, holding on tight. “Let's go home,” he says. His voice is small, somehow, like he's stripped away everything he uses to hide it with. “I need… I mean, I want…” He trails off, searching 'Star's face for his own answer, and then shakes his head. “Come on.”
'Star fishes Ric's gloves out of his pocket and waits for him to put them on. They pick up their bags, and walk on into the night.
--
Back at their apartment, they turn the heat up so high that Ric ends up sweating when 'Star makes love to him. They shed their coats and boots at the door and everything else on the way to the shower, and now they're tangled in the covers of their bed, Ric splayed out on his back and 'Star leaning over him. He has one hand on the small of Ric's back, lifting his hips up so he can fuck him at just the right angle, slow enough to make his toes curl, deep enough to make him gasp and whimper and whine his name.
His other hand is interlaced with Ric's, pinned to the bed beside the pillow, holding tight. They barely had to speak a word to each other - Ric's quiet when he's feeling this way, feeling vulnerable, but he has other ways of showing 'Star what he needs, letting him in so he can take care of him.
‘Star’s never been the best with words, but he’s always tried. Moments like this make it clear that he’s far more eloquent with his actions. He’s all over Ric and Ric feels like he can’t catch his breath, like he can’t even say a word. He lets ‘Star take the lead, lets him hold him tight and press those soft lips to his neck and his shoulders. He can feel himself unraveling, a jumble of messy threads draped across ‘Star’s capable hands. He’s always known how to work the knots out of him.
'Star watches Ric's eyelids flutter closed, eyelashes fanning out dark over his flushed cheeks. He hears him panting, sees him wipe at the sweat beading on his brow with the back of his hand. This whole time he's had that look on his face, not quite a smile but the promise of one. He looks tired, fixated, wrecked, awestruck. He looks relaxed and wound up all at once. He feels exquisite, tight enough that it's almost too good, but he yields to 'Star's every touch. 'Star holds himself back; he won't finish until Ric does, until he's satisfied - until he's better than satisfied. He wants Ric blissed out and exhausted. He wants to take his time.
“God, it's hot in here,” Ric speaks up for the first time in what feels like an hour. 'Star could stretch it to more if he wanted to. He thinks he might want to.
Ric reaches for the window by the bed, feeling for the handle. He might have found it if he were able to take his eyes off 'Star. “Can you -”
'Star pulls up the lock and pushes it open quickly, barely missing a beat. Ric gasps, drawing breath from a sudden rush of cool air, then grasping for 'Star's hand, pulling it back to where he had him before, pressed into the pillow. A flurry of feather-light snow swirls into the room, scattering across the both of them. It catches the light, pale and crystalline, every time Ric's chest rises with his breath.
‘Star thinks, not for the first time, that nothing is more perfect than the man beneath him. Julio is like a fissure in the earth, molten and alive even against the swirl of snow pushing its way into their room. Sometimes it feels dangerous to get so close, but ‘Star has never been one to shy away from danger. He quickens his pace suddenly, his climax bubbling hot in his stomach, hand on Ric’s hip moving to curl around his cock. His need rolls over him, slow and searing hot.
Ric clutches at the pillow, at the sheets, at him. He closes his eyes when his need overtakes him. His lips are parted and his face reads like an open book, raw, vulnerable desire written all over it. He arches his back when ‘Star comes hard inside him, lost in the perfect warmth of his body. He moans 'Star's name over and over and it's never sounded so good to ‘Star as it does on Ric's lips.
He holds him through it all, leaning in almost close enough that their lips touch. They gasp the same air, share the heat that rolls off their skin, and when they're done 'Star whispers something against Ric's lips that Ric can only return as a hug, vice-tight, that he doesn't relax until he's caught his breath.
“I have you,” ‘Star murmurs into his ear, still holding Ric tight as Ric holds him. “I promise I won’t let you go.”
“I know,” Ric whispers back. His hands are steady. He trusts him. 'Star doesn't think he's ever been given a greater gift than that trust.
—
‘Star doesn’t remember exactly when he started having a bedtime routine, but he recalls it began sometime between getting an apartment and finally settling down in said apartment. Rictor helps, he thinks, just by being there, always calming and grounding even when he doesn’t think he’s anything. On the off chance his restlessness gets the better of him, ‘Star has started to channel it into much less violent activities if he doesn’t have the means to bloody a sword. It’s a balanced life he leads, or at least he’s beginning to think so.
He’s currently sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a small ceramic Christmas tree that’s plugged into the an outlet nearby, its tiny lights glowing proudly in the darkness of the room. He’s not sure where this Christmas artifact came from, but he’s enamoured with it and the way its lights wink at him nonetheless. It’s dark outside, and he’s turned the living room lights off to enhance the effect.
“Where did this come from?” ‘Star calls out absently. He’s not even sure if Ric can hear him.
“What?” Ric's voice is muffled from the shower. “You want ice cream?”
The bathroom door clicks open, and Ric walks out with one of 'Star's shirts on, threadbare and oversized, and his hair up in a towel. “Did you say you wanted ice cream?”
“I said, where did this come from?” 'Star corrects himself, gesturing at the ceramic tree. “And… do we have ice cream?” he asks, quietly hopeful.
“Uh-huh,” Ric says. “Mint chocolate chip?”
“Please,” 'Star says, sheepish but grateful. “And the tree?”
“Oh,” Ric says. His face is hidden behind the freezer door as he searches for the ice cream, but there's an odd, awkward quality to his voice. “Uh, my mom sent it.”
Stepmother, 'Star reminds himself. Strange that Julio, who is technically an orphan and estranged from most of his kin, still has more contact with his family than 'Star does.
“Really?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Ric says. “She sent a bunch of other crap too… she's, uh, real Catholic and all, so it's all these candles and plastic figurines of saints and stuff. I kept most of it in the box, but I put the tree out 'cause I figured you'd like it.” He sets down a bowl of ice-cream in front of 'Star. There's a smiley face on the top of one scoop, drawn haphazardly in chocolate topping. “Do you like it?”
‘Star looks up from his ice cream, like in that moment he’d forgotten entirely about the tree, focused on Ric’s small gesture instead. “I love it.” He takes a second. “The ice cream and the tree.” His eyes finally flick up to meet Ric’s. “And you.” He likes to say it as often as possible. It’s important. “Would you mind if I looked through the box?” He takes a spoonful of ice cream and sighs happily to himself as he takes a bite, eyes still trained on Ric’s expression.
“Why?” Ric asks, before realizing how abrupt he sounds. He doesn't seem bothered; just confused, 'Star thinks. “I mean, go ahead. I don't have a problem with it. It's just - it's really just junk, you know?”
“I just thought I would like to see some of the other items. I have only been celebrating Christmas for a few years now, and I would like to understand everything I can about it. It can wait, however. Would you like to sit with me?”
Ric pulls out a chair and takes a seat beside 'Star, scooting closer to him until their knees are touching. “It's not really Christmas stuff,” Ric explains. “Not the fun kind - the boring religious kind. You don't have to worry about that.” He waits and watches while 'Star relays another spoonful of ice cream to his mouth. “But you like the tree? That's good. At least that package was good for something.”
“Did you know that the lights change color?” ‘Star slides his bowl aside for a moment and in the dim lights of the kitchen, he clicks the dial on the plug so the lights flash bright white from the tree. He clicks it again, and it resumes its previous colorful spectacle. “I know it does not seem like much, but I like it. It was a nice gift.”
It looks like something has clicked for Ric, too. “I’ll… I'll tell her you said so,” he says, as though the thought is only just occurring to him. “I think she'll be glad someone was into it. Thank you.”
“Is everything alright?” ‘Star feels something in the room shift a little and he pulls his ice cream bowl to himself subconsciously.
“Yeah,” Ric says, with the makings of a smile growing on his lips. “Yeah, I think everything's gonna be alright.”
—
It’s weird, Ric thinks. He doesn’t really think of him and ‘Star as dating. To him, they’re beyond that. Soulmates, if he believed in things like that (and ‘Star makes him want to believe). Boyfriends, definitely. More than that, maybe, even though neither of them have ever said anything about it.
But when people ask, he says they’re dating. Funny, since it’s been a while since they’ve been on a proper date. Now that they’re living together, it’s different - they do normal, mundane things together, going to the store and staying at home to order takeout and driving out into the mountains on their weekends off. Ric loves all of it - maybe loves the normal stuff more than the weird - but it seems about time they did something special again.
Ice skating seems like a great idea until he gets ‘Star out onto the rink in his rented skates and realizes that he’s never really done this before. Then he’s six and a half feet of awkward and terrified, and Ric is doing his best to calm him down despite being unsteady on his own skates. Last time he did this, he was a teenager still. He thought it was going to be one of those things that you never really forget, but that isn’t the case.
He sticks close to the side of the rink, holding ‘Star’s hand. “Just go slow,” he instructs him. ‘Star is watching his feet, apparently concerned about tripping over, so Ric watches the other skaters for him. “Walk in ‘em until you find your balance.”
“Walk?” ‘Star says, more unsettled than indignant about it. He squeezes Ric’s hand tighter, and Ric has to fight back a wince. “How does one exactly walk on a small blade on the ice? If there’s some sort of secret to it, I would very much like to hear it.”
“Like this,” Ric says, slowing to a shuffle. “Slow down. Watch what I’m doing.” He waits until ‘Star begins to keep pace with him, awkwardly inching across the ice. “Better. Don’t let go of my arm, man.”
“I am not going to let go. My apologies if I somehow injure you.” ‘Star looks at him, impossibly sincere, eyes flicking back down a moment later to look at his feet again. “Am I thinking about this too much? Is that the problem? No one else seems to be having this much difficulty.”
“Probably,” Ric says. He’s trying not to smile - he doesn’t want ‘Star to think that he’s making fun of him - but ‘Star is just so cute. “Why are you so freaked out about this, man? Are you worried you’re gonna get hurt?”
“No!” ‘Star insists, griping Ric’s arm tighter. “I suppose it would be impossible for me to be injured for more than a moment or two, but… I feel as if I am not in control of this situation with my feet and the ice. I… usually know what I am doing.”
Ric raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t wanna step outside your comfort zone? That’s not like you.” Then ‘Star gives him a look that could only be described as pleading, and he relents. “If you wanna leave, that’s okay. We can do something else. But… listen, man, you’re gonna be okay.” He turns to face him, taking both of his hands and looking into his eyes, earnest, patient. “I promise I’m not gonna let you fall.”
“You never do.” ‘Star takes a deep breath. “I do not want to leave, but I am usually better at adjusting to my surroundings.” He looks like he’s still searching for his reasoning, why he’s so uncertain about this.
“Some things take time,” Ric points out as delicately as possible. “Don't worry about it. Everyone's nervous at the start. Nobody's just naturally good at this.” He squeezes ‘Star’s hands before he lets go of them, turning back onto the rink. “Come on. We'll go as slow as you want, man.”
“Hmm.” ‘Star shakes his head, but his confidence in Ric never falters. “If I do fall, I am swearing you to secrecy.” He narrows his eyes for a moment as he watches Ric skate a few feet ahead, clearly holding back the urge to grab onto his hand. He holds his arms out in front of him for a moment in an attempt to keep his balance and takes a slightly more confident stride forward, gliding up to where Ric stands waiting for him.
Ric catches him, taking hold of his hands again and acting as a buffer. Even with momentum behind him, 'Star is so light. It takes nothing to slow him down. Instead of letting himself be pushed over like he might have been if 'Star was anybody else, he turns his foot to the side just slightly and they end up spinning in a slow half-circle, holding hands until they come to a stop. 'Star's startled expression soon gives way to a grin.
“That was amazing. You are amazing.” ‘Star sounds breathless and grins as though he’s just overcome something far more dangerous than skating in Times Square. “Do you have a special fondness for ice skating?”
Ric's own laugh surprises him. “Yeah, uh, I've done this maybe twice before in my life? Three times, if you count putting the skates on, falling over in front of my friends and then backing out? I don't know what I'm doing either.” It's kind of always been like that. He doesn't have all the answers. Sometimes he feels so out of touch with the world that it scares him, but he's always tried to be there for 'Star - to be his anchor, the line that keeps him tethered to humanity, his first point of call for human experience. He guesses he's not doing too bad at it.
“You do not have to know what you are doing. We always figure things out together.” ‘Star seems to have built up a bit more confidence. “I was having... a moment earlier. Perhaps I still do not understand how to ice skate, but… it is better with you here. It always is.”
Then it's Ric's turn to feel self-conscious. “I wouldn't be here if I wasn't with you,” he admits. The cold stings his cheeks, but that's not why he's blushing. “I'd probably be at home gettin’ drunk and watching Netflix documentaries. I… wanted to take you someplace nice. Y'know, like a real date.”
“I understand. We have real dates all the time, however,” ‘Star assures him. “We go to the grocery store together and brunch together and - lots of other places. It is never really about where we are, Julio. It’s really about us. That is what makes it special to me.”
Not for the first time, Ric is reminded that 'Star has more of a handle on this stuff than he does. Worry though he might about not understanding life on earth, he sure seems to know what's important.
Still, Ric tries. “But don't you think this is… I dunno, extra special?”
“Of course.” ‘Star, apparently emboldened in his feelings and his place on the ice, pulls him close and lifts him up and kisses him, right in the middle of the gently falling snow and other skaters as if they were not there at all.
Ric feels his stomach flip as he's lifted off his feet. His eyes widen and his lips part with the first sound of his protest, but 'Star catches it before he can continue, and he keeps steady as Ric relaxes, closing his eyes and kissing him back. Lazily, he slips his arms around ‘Star’s shoulders and crosses his ankles around his waist. Seconds into the kiss he hears a scattering of applause from a group skating by, and he doesn't even let it embarrass him.
There’s a promise in ‘Star’s sky blue eyes when he pulls back, something that makes Ric feel nervous and hopeful and so many other things all at once. “I love you.”
It means something, Ric thinks. Something a little beyond the ordinary, something he can't quite put his finger on yet. Whatever it is, it makes his whole body hum with warmth. He feels light, so light, and not just because 'Star is carrying him. He leans in, pressing his forehead against 'Star's. “I love you too.”
“If I slip when I put you down I am sorry,” ‘Star tells him after a moment of quiet. “I do not think I accounted for that when I had the urge to kiss you.”
But he doesn’t slip, and neither does Rictor. Lucky, Ric thinks; it would have been pretty embarrassing if he let ‘Star fall after he promised not to.
“So… wanna keep going? It ain’t so bad once you find your feet, huh?”
“I have always known where my feet are. I -” ‘Star catches himself halfway through his explanation and then smiles at Ric, genuinely. “Colloquialisms,” he says sagely. “I see. But yes… I very much would like to stay.”