Insanity: Not Allowed at Christmas

"Anarchy!
Revolution, gasses, screaming for solutions
Forcing changes, risking danger
Making noise and making pleas!"

Specs had a dilemma.

His boyfriend, Dutchy, seemed to live to cause problems on holidays. Like during Halloween, when he decided he was going to be a nudist and go out trick—or—treating as such. Specs still couldn't believe he hadn't been arrested for that stunt. He'd certainly scared enough kids as well as parents. Then there was Thanksgiving, when Dutchy had somehow felt a need to decide he was going to spend the entire evening speaking only in South Park quotes.

And now, Christmas. Of course, Dutchy was going to cause problems again.

"Dutchy, I'm really getting tired of this," Specs sighed, running a hand through his auburn hair as Dutchy sat sullenly on the couch. "We need a Christmas tree. Hello? It's tradition? And you won't even let me get a plastic one."

Dutchy's head tilted ever so slightly. "Plastic trees are an insult to real trees."

"So let's go get a real tree."

"No! Why should that tree have to die just so we can put lights and colored balls on it in selfish hopes for gifts?"

Specs removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes; he was starting to get a migraine. "Dutchy, this is ridiculous. It's a fucking tree. It doesn't feel anything—"

"Tell that to the BFG."

"Oh my God. And now you think Roald Dahl's stories are real."

"How do we get dreams then, huh? Tell me that, smart guy."

"Dreams are your subconscious speaking to you while you sleep."

"... That's what the government wants you to think."

Specs groaned. "Okay, seriously, this needs to stop. I put up with your insanity the rest of the year, but this is the time when my parents come to see me, and they're going to want to see the wreath, the Christmas tree, the tinsel, and everything. If I tell them you kept me from getting this stuff, they're not going to be happy with you. You know how traditional they are."

"Why couldn't we celebrate Kwanzaa like I wanted?"

"Because you only wanted to celebrate Kwanzaa so as to not conform to the Christian majority."

"Fuck the majority!"

"My God, why do I insist on dating a born rebel?"

Dutchy's face crinkled. "You remember that comment when we go to bed tonight."

Specs rolled his eyes and flopped onto the couch. He loved Dutchy, really. When he wasn't being a rebellious, stubborn asshole, he could be really sweet. He listened when Specs needed him too, and he was funny. Not to mention, he was gorgeous. Who could resist such fine blonde hair and pretty blue eyes?

But anti-conformists can be very not fun to be around sometimes.

"Dutchy, do you want presents or not?"

"Christmas presents are the symbol of the capitalist CEOs taking over the true Christian faith of Christmas."

Specs narrowed his eyes. "So do you want them or not?"

"No."

"You're not even Christian."

"Hey, Athiests can celebrate whatever the hell holidays they want to celebrate."

"I would think Athiests would love seeing capitalist CEOs taking over the true Christian faith of Christmas. Makes it easier for Athiests to celebrate it without having to be religious."

"... You talk too much and make my head hurt."

Specs smiled. Preppy Traditional Boyfriend: One; Non-Conformist Christmas Tree Rights Activist: Zero.

"Dutchy, just come on. Let's go get a Christmas tree so my parents don't shoot you when they show up next week. You want to be an interior designer; think of the designing you can do with all the decorations!"

Dutchy's face lit up, and Specs grinned. Dutchy was a genius when it came to decorating and designing. It was his natural talent; he didn't understand his reasoning behind making the photos in the stairwell diagonal, following the route of the stairs, but he knew that it looked good.

The blonde sat up straight, his eyes wide. "I see blue and gold mixing with white on the green. White lights, silver tinsel, glass icicles on each branch. Red ribbon on the banister, a white wreath over the fireplace to show up against the red—"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Specs laughed and leaned over the kiss Dutchy's cheek, making the blonde snap out of his stupor and blush slightly. "I get the idea. Now will you come pick out a tree with me?"

"... All right," Dutchy said slowly, his face guarded. "But I'm still against the use of trees for financial gain."

"I know, I know," Specs rolled his eyes, getting up and grabbing his mittens and scarf. "Find solace in the fact that I'm paying for the tree, not you."

Dutchy slid into his jacket and pulled a dark blue beanie around his ears, grinning cutely. "Easy enough."

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