Terror Twin [Def Leppard] #Wattys2016

XII: Four Letter Word

Christmas Eve.

The tree should've been decorated ages ago, but Phil and Steve decided to do it two days before they would take it down. The fir had been sitting idle in their living room for a week.

Phil tugged out a few boxes of old Christmas ornaments, grinning.

"What color theme should we do?" Phil called out to Steve, who was making hot chocolate in the kitchen.

Phil decided to go check on him, just to make sure he wasn't spiking his own. It was something Steve would do, probably. Phil couldn't tell if he was overreacting or not. He swung the sash of his robe around in circles as he snuck into the kitchen.

Steve was doing remotely better with dealing with the alcoholism, only because he had been throwing himself into being the best lover possible. Whenever he felt the tug to drink, he pictured how upset Phil would be if he walked in on him with a bottle. And slowly the thoughts would spiral to Phil yelling at him, leaving him, and Steve would end up a crying mess on the floor.

Phil never understood what was happening, nor what to do. He did his best to comfort the other man, but mostly to no avail.

Steve wasn't addicted as badly as before, but now he was dealing with bouts of depression. He was convinced he could pull through, though. He had to. For Phil.

In his worst moments, Steve reached for the bottle of whiskey he had hidden under the bathroom sink, behind all the cleaning supplies. Phil never looked behind as all the chemicals they used regularly were in the front. He never drank enough to push him over the edge; he just needed to be numb for a bit.

Steve hadn't put anything in his hot chocolate. That would've been gross. Anyway, his goal was to quit, because he knew how sad it made Phil. He saw no other real reason. Steve knew people had died from alcoholism before, but he only ever felt invincible when he drank. The thought of death was whisked from his mind and replaced with courage, more courage than he'd ever had in his life.

But he still wanted to quit.

It would make Phil happy.

Steve didn't understand how Phil had quit so easily a few years back. Smashing his bottles and never touching one again felt like smashing his favorite guitar and never getting another. He couldn't do it, couldn't break the bond he had with the drink.

But he was determined to try.

So maybe he could.

Steve poured some boiling water into each mug, already filled with the flavor packet. He reached for the marshmallows, up on the top shelf of their cupboard. He growled as the belt of his robe got tangled in the handle of a lower cupboard, leaning over to untangle it. Steve rolled his eyes as the whole piece of cloth fell to the floor, leaving his long robe undone in the front with his red boxers on show.

Strong arms found their way around his waist, and Steve leaned back into the embrace, the sash of the robe forgotten.

"Hey, baby." Phil purred, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve's neck. Steve turned around in Phil's arms, a wide grin glued to his face. He bit his lip softly, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks as Phil gently rubbed his lower back.

"Hi." Steve squeaked, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Phil's nose. Phil moved quicker than him, though, and captured his lips in another kiss. Steve let his eyes flutter closed, wrapping his arms around Phil's shoulders as he leaned into it.

Phil's unexpected hand squeezing his ass made him jump and break it off, though. Steve giggled, burying his nose in Phil's neck, the blush turning him as red as Rudolph's nose.

"Nice boxers, you dork. Can't untangle this?" Phil chuckled, purposely getting down on his knees in front of Steve to undo the sash from the handle. Steve found himself glad Phil was helping, as he needed to close the front of his robe desperately. Now.

"Thanks, babe." Steve mumbled, reaching for the belt from Phil. His fellow guitarist smirked though, holding it just out of his reach.

"I think I prefer it off. Mine now." Phil grinned cheekily, threading it around his robe, now having two sashes. He tied it with a double knot, smirking at Steve the whole time.

Steve was very aware of the bulge in his boxers now, but turned around and grabbed the marshmallows from the shelf, pouring some solidified sugar into each mug, thinking of how unsexy marshmallows were. Finally, the heat died down.

"So, what color theme should we do the tree?" Phil repeated the question, twirling the sash around his finger.

"Blue would be pretty." Steve murmured, handing Phil his mug, but not before popping a straw into each.

"We've got plenty of blue decorations." Phil smiled, leading the way back into the living room where the tree had taken over. Slippers were a necessity now, as pine needles were almost covering the carpet.

But that was okay. Phil bought them matching ones. And they even slid around on the kitchen floor. Steve only fell once, meaning it was relatively safe. Phil caught him all the other times.

Steve uncovered a box, grinning. Decorating the tree was always his favorite part of Christmas growing up.

"There's blues in this box." Phil murmured, gently tugging on Steve's robe. Steve smiled, starting to unpack the brightly-colored bulbs.

Automatically, Steve began to decorate the top, using his height as an advantage. Phil took the bottom.

They bonked into each other a few times, breaking the peaceful mood with laughing fits and heads being rubbed.

The tree looked on in silent disapproval, waiting to be pruned and finished with branches stretched out proudly.

Eventually, Phil stood back, admiring their work. Steve wrapped his arm around Phil's waist, pulling him closer.

"Merry Christmas, babe." Steve grinned, turning and pulling Phil against his chest. Phil leant forward, his amazing grin dazzling Steve once more. Steve felt the butterflies from the first time they met be resurrected in his stomach.

Phil rested his forehead against Steve's own, staring into his eyes. Steve found himself leaning forward, one hand tracing its way up Phil's back and tangling in his messy hair. Their lips finally met, and Steve felt all the butterflies vanish simultaneously.

The kiss was sweet and short, much to Steve's despair. He felt desperate for more.

Phil had snuggled in Steve's neck, twirling his lover's golden blonde locks around his finger.

"Hey, Steph'?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Phil."

There were a few moments of silence, and Steve treasured them, holding his love tightly against his body.

Phil pressed a kiss to Steve's neck, smiling broadly.

"I'm proud of you for controlling it."

Steve felt his face heat up, but for the first time since they had began to talk about his addiction, it wasn't from guilt. Steve bit his lip softly, his beautiful smile shining brighter than ever. Phil was lucky he was facing away, or he might've been blinded.

"I'm proud of me, too."