THEN AGAIN • TC ✔️

15. Walking It Off

Timmy comes home annoyed. Really, really annoyed.

Because his boss has just strongly suggested (told him) that he should go to the annual Christmas production, and like--

(Timmy has nothing against theatre. Nothing against musical theatre, even - he used to be in school plays from time to time himself. But he just doesn't want to go as a teacher. Because that means he has to be in teacher mode and teacher attire and it's a draining prospect.)

--he has no one to go with. So he's going to be the sad sack in the third row with no one sitting next to him, just pushy moms and unenthused dads and other teachers who've been lumped into attending. It would all be better if he could invite someone, but he has no one except Clem (who's never free on Friday evenings because she's too busy fucking her boyfriend who isn't actually her boyfriend.)

At Christmas, being alone is the last thing he wants.

Because he's not supposed to be. Sure, he's further away from his family than he's ever been, sure, it'll be his first time spending the holidays in a place that isn't New York, but he's kind of looking forward to it because he's supposed to be spending it with Clem. And that means he won't be alone. Physically, emotionally, whatever. But at this stupid fucking musical, he'll be the only one there by themself and-

"Hey," Clem smiles, looking up from the novel she's reading. Timmy recognises it as the one he started a few days ago. Something about Communism which promises to be quite interesting, only he's about four pages in. Clem is already ahead of him, but he doesn't say anything. Just watches as she closes the book, rests it on her stomach, rests her hands on top of it.

Timmy doesn't want to say hello, but he has to, so he gives her a perfunctory greeting. Sheds his satchel and then pulls on his hat, which is sitting on the coat rack. He forgot it this morning. "Going on a walk," he says briefly, and he should probably change his clothes but he just wants to be somewhere that isn't a building. At least he changes his shoes.

"Oh, I'll come with you," Clem says, standing up and coming over to him, shunting on her own sneakers.

(And really, Timmy needs to go alone so he can storm his anger off, but he hasn't had a proper conversation with Clem all week. He's been too busy working, teaching, avoiding her and Nick.)

"You need a scarf?" she asks. Timmy shakes his head, and Clem goes to her room quickly. Comes back with two scarves, one of which she gives to Timmy.

He snorts a little. "I don't need it."

Clem gives him a look and Timmy concedes, winding the scarf around his neck. It smells like Clem, which he doesn't really get because they both use the same washing powder. Sometimes even the same shower gel. But still.

And then they walk to the park. It's a wide, open space, bordered by trees which just about cover the town on the other side. Timmy likes that there's a barrier between his house, their house, and the commercial side of town. It makes it easier to separate work and home. They walk briskly - it's too cold to meander - and smile at passers-by. Keep up light conversation, crisp like the air around them.

(It's nice. Timmy doesn't have to think too much and Clem does most of the talking for him.)

Neither of them are very good at walking in straight lines, so they keep on bumping into each other, whole arms brushing together for seconds. Then nothing. And then Clem will stumble on a tree root or Timmy will trip over a crack in the pavement--

(Yes, I swear, there was a crack. No, I'm not lying. Yes, no- fuck you.)

-- and they'll bump into each other again. They get to the opposite end of the park and Clem leads them out of the gate, into the high street. It's filled with lights at this time of year, wrapped around lampposts and the branches of trees. Timmy's never really taken the time to look at it, but he quite likes it now that he thinks about it. It looks like a Hallmark Christmas movie.

They walk up the high street. Part ways around other pedestrians, go single file when they pass big groups, take turns balancing on the curb and trying not to fall over on the icy patches. Once they get past the main bustle, past all the flashy shops and up-market brands, Clem grabs his arm.

Immediately, Timmy thinks she's about to fall over. His gaze drops to the ground, but they're walking on dirt-trodden snow and there's no ice under their feet. He glances at her, and she's grinning up at him (he thinks. He can't really see much more than her eyes and the bridge of her nose, what with the hat and the scarf.)

Clem points to the sign of the dollar store. "Can we do stockings?" she asks, and Timmy's not really sure what she means. He nods hesitantly, and she tugs him into the store. He's hit with a blast of heat, and then shivers once they get inside. Clem imperiously hands him a shopping basket.

"You've got to find ten things for ten dollars."

Timmy still doesn't get it.

"For me?"

"No, for me," she explains. "And I get ten things for you." Clem reaches for his arm again and marches him down the aisles like a toddler.

"Oh, wait, wait, wait, is this like a...what?"

Clem giggles at him, and Timmy feels his cheeks heat up. He never really blushes, not that much, anyway, but somehow when he does, it's always around Clem.

(And like. This isn't even embarrassing - he's just confused - but his body seems to think that this is the perfect time to make his cheeks go red. Timmy wonders if he can blame it on the cold.)

She gasps a little, and then tugs him off in the opposite direction. Timmy feels like one of those little yappy dogs on leashes being dragged around by a woman in a Juicy tracksuit.

"Where are we-" but he doesn't get to finish his sentence, because Clem is holding up two stockings. One with a snowman, one with a reindeer.

"Which one?" she asks, and Timmy shrugs. Points to the reindeer, and Clem rolls her eyes. "Fine, you can have him," she relents. Puts the reindeer in her basket.

"Wait, but-"

"What aren't you getting about this?" she sighs, and Timmy sputters, his mouth opening and closing.

"All of it," he replies. Clem grins, putting the snowman stocking into Timmy's basket.

"So, you have ten minutes to find me ten things for ten dollars. To put in my stocking."

"Does the stocking count as a gift?" he asks, and Clem looks to the side, thinking.

"No," she decides. "And we've got gift wrap at home, so. Yeah. Ten things. No looking, either. It has to be a secret."

Timmy shakes his head bemusedly. Then nods, because Clem's looking at him seriously. She checks her phone, setting a timer. "Okay, it's ten past now. You've got ten minutes. Three, two, one-"

Timmy is off before she can even say go, skidding down the aisles with his basket in hand.