Work Text:
An early Christmas present.
I've already had mine, wrapped up in my sofa-throw instead of metallic paper and ribbons.
“What's this?” Charlie looks stunned. On the back foot. Maybe I should've waited. Maybe I should've scrapped the entire fucking thing altogether.
“A load of random bollocks, to be honest.”
Fingers lift the red lid, eyebrows knitting, and I’m embarrassed. No idea to why I thought he'd want my scarf, an old fag butt and a Post It note. And it's not like he can't buy olives at Tesco.
“Nick!” Charlie laughs loudly. “You absolute dork!”
It’s alright.
He remembers everything.