THEN AGAIN • TC ✔️

23. Something Missing

"Go away, Timmy, oh my God!" Clem laughs, spreading her arms out as far as they will go, trying to shield his presents from view.

"I'm not looking," Timmy insists, his head tilted towards the ceiling as he shuffles blindly through the apartment. Stumbles over the edge of the coffee table. "I just wanted- fuck, I just wanted some water," he tells her, reaching the kitchen and cupping his hands over the sides of his eyes as he moves towards the fridge. Clem laughs. Covers his presents with a cushion and tells him he can look again.

Timmy's shoulders slump towards the floor in relief as he pours two glasses. Brings one over to Clem and balances it on a stack of books by the TV. She smiles at him gratefully. Scowls when his gaze lingers just a little too long on the pillow with his gifts shoved under it.

"Fuck off. No peeking," she reprimands him, and Timmy rolls his eyes. Puts down his glass, catapults himself onto the sofa and hangs over the end of it, his fingers trailing weird patterns along the carpet.

"I'm not looking, I swear!" he says, his pitch high and unconvincing. It's less than a week until Christmas and Clem is finding it hard to do any sort of gift wrapping without Timmy managing to barge in one way or another.

(She's tried doing it in her room, but Timmy came in unannounced and had squealed like a dying pig once he'd realised what he'd walked in on, shielding his eyes and flinging himself backwards. Clem had laughed and banished him from the room, but it just resulted in her realising that nowhere was safe from Timmy's unintentionally prying eyes.)

It's cosier in the lounge anyway, with all the curtains on and the blinds half-closed and the carols on in the background. Even Timmy himself looks cosy, dressed in grey sweatpants and a grey, ridiculously fluffy sweater from Target that he maintains is the best purchase he's ever made. Clem can't even dispute that; she's worn it once or twice when Timmy's let her, and it's the softest thing known to man.

"I don't even know how to wrap presents," he confesses, swinging back up into a sitting position and sinking into the corner of the couch, shaking his head to get the hair out of his eyes.

Clem stops wrapping. Looks up, a bit of tape caught between her teeth. "What?" she asks, and Timmy shrugs.

"I mean, I can wrap, but. Not really."

"Come here," she says quietly, half because she's going to teach him how to wrap gifts. The other half because she wants him and his fuzzy little sweater as close to her as possible.

"I thought you said-"

"It's fine, your ones are hidden," she cuts in. Reaches out her hands in front of her, and Timmy shifts off of the sofa. Slides over on his bum until he's nestled up against Clem and the back of the sofa. She smiles at him, smiles at the sleepy look on his face, smiles as he wipes the corner of his eye.

"Which gift should we do?" she asks, rummaging around in the pile of presents which have yet to be wrapped. "Okay, this is for my sister," she tells him, and Timmy nods. Watches as she pulls out a cashmere sweater and a box of chocolate and a box of face cream. "We'll start with- actually no, let's start with this," she says, pointing to the face cream. "It's nice and rectangular-y."

"Ah yes, a convex polyhedron," Timmy mumbles, a smile on his face. "Otherwise known as rectangular-y." He snickers quietly, digging his chin into the gap of his sweater between his neck and the neckline. Taking the zipper between his teeth.

Clem laughs at him. Digs her foot into the meaty part of his thigh and watches in amusement as Timmy squirms away.

"I will literally tape your mouth shut," she threatens, rummaging through her box of old wrapping paper that she irons every year to get the crinkles out, looking for the perfect sized piece. Timmy hums. Picks up the scissors and snaps them together a couple of times absently. "Give me those," she says, not even looking over, and Timmy does so wordlessly.