Ma jo
Author: wanderingsmith
jan 1, 2017
Summary: It'd actually turned out to be a
good year.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd
be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought,
so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with
'em..
AN: eh. My jo (scots pronunciation
phonetics make it ma jo) = My dear = Mon cher
;) the little things that amuse.
There was a town party below, but much to Billy's
surprise, Goody had thanked the proprietor for the offer
to attend, and instead bought a bottle of what he called
'actual' whisky; for enough money that Billy's brows had
almost flown up in surprise.
He had to admit, sipping it slowly as Goody had
insisted, that it was a hell of a lot smoother than
anything he'd ever tasted. Worth every penny as the two
of them sat in shirtsleeves on one of the beds in their
room, staring out the window, open to the warm night;
his back to Goody's chest as Goody sat against the wall.
Goody'd been off and on explaining the traditions of the
holiday being celebrated, pausing every so often when
the music was louder than the people; and so, worth
listening to.
"So you do this every year?"
The room below seemed to quiet as a slow song started to
be played on the piano, and rather than answer, the hand
Goody had on his chest stroked up to fiddle open enough
buttons to slide in and come to rest over his heart.
Voices started to sing, though not clear enough for
Billy to decipher, and Goody finally answered softly, "I
ain't never been grateful before."
"Never?" Goody was no younger than he was; 'never'
seemed a long time to not take part in such a widely
held tradition. Though it belatedly occurred to him that
he couldn't remember having ever tried to follow any of
his own people's traditions since his parents had died.
Goody shrugged, shifting Billy's head with the movement,
"When I was a boy, I didn't know enough to be grateful
for another year of peace and plenty. And then it was
war..." Billy covered the hand on his chest, squeezing
the fingers gently; he didn't need Goody to drag himself
into details. He felt a touch to the top of his head,
suspecting a kiss.
The people below started to cheer, odd popping sounds
erupting, though they didn't seem to be making Goody
tense. "But now," the hand on his chest tugged free and
came up to tilt Billy's head until their eyes met, "I am
ever so grateful, mon cher. I'd like nothing better than
to celebrate the coming of every new year with you."
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