Happy Holidays, Lunatique!
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go_exchangeTitle: A Tree with Strong Roots
Author: Secret
Rating: T
Ship: The Them, established polycule.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Messrs. Gaiman and Pratchett and no copyright infringement is intended in this transformative work.
Recipient: lunatique
Word count: 1830
A.N.: Happy holidays, lunatique! Beta thanks to kittydorkling. The title comes from a proverb: “A tree with
strong roots laughs at storms.”
Summary: The Them, home on summer holiday, stop at one of their old hangouts and spend some time
together. Wensleydale feels philosophical about maths.
***
Above the quarry, the Them have The Tree. There’s always The Tree. There inevitably is for any group
of kids let loose to run around outside and entertain themselves.
It's not a fruit tree. Apple would be too trite. Figs and pomegranates don't grow in England, usually, and
it's important that it's a Wild Tree. It's a low-sprawling oak with a double top, ancient and oddly shaped
and interestingly knotty. Birds and squirrels nest in it and have loud territorial disputes over the best
holes and forks.
Adam gets a black eye when he fails to duck a low branch during tag, and Wensley misses a week of
school with an arm broken falling out of it, and Pepper shreds her palms and her jeans trying to slide
down it like a firefighter's pole, and Brian drops off a branch headfirst while hanging by his knees and his
nose bleeds all down his front and Wensley's sleeve. They play pirate ship in The Tree and make gorilla
nests to try to sleep in the boughs. They swordfight with fallen sticks and smush their faces into the trunk
to see the patterns it leaves lined in their skin. Dog chews a chunk of bark off one side when he’s young
and looks adorably dejected when he’s scolded for it. They build the most giant leaf pile In The World to
jump in with its drifts of brown leaves, and bury Dog and Pepper’s little sister (who falls asleep and nearly
gets forgotten).
When they are eleven, Wensleydale and Pepper use sticks from The Tree to make a pair of scales and a
sword. And, leaning against the trunk, making plans and growing angry, Adam almost glows from within,
with a light that hurts when it touches, and leaves a patch of bark scarred like lightning’s hit it.
The world doesn’t end and The Tree is still there.
They grow. The Tree does too, leafing and spreading its pollen on the wind to explore new places and
pollinate interesting new friends, dropping acorns in season, hosting new generations of birds and
squirrels.
The Them leave, for shorter and longer times.
***
The Tree loses a limb in a spring storm when they’re away at uni and, coming back, Adam gapes at the
hole in the canopy like it's a finger missing from his own hand.
“Things are allowed to change,” Wensleydale says quietly, flipping his ballpoint pen between his fingers.
It’s a nice pen, an expensive one that his aunt sent him for his birthday; it’s solid between his fingers and
the ink never sputters.
“I know,” Adam says quickly. “Of course.”
Brian tackles him from behind and sends them both into the moss at the base of the tree, Adam’s roll the
only thing that saves both their heads from cracking into a knobby root. Brian, unconcerned, sprawls
across his torso with their legs tangling, ignoring Adam’s breathless claims he’s being squashed, and
lectures him in detail about all the new things that will be eating or building homes in the rotting remains
of the old branch. There are several varieties of beetle involved.
Pepper climbs up on a branch above them to look out over their old play spots, and presses her fingers
into the bark until it marks her skin. Wensley settles with his back against the tree, watches a stray lock
of her hair float in the breeze, listens to Brian, and pets his fingertips down the line of skin between
Adam’s ear and shirt collar.
“Bring some leaves down with you,” Wensley calls up to her after a moment.
“What if I was planning to stay?” she asks, returning from whatever thoughts had drifted her away from
Them.
“Throw some down, then, and I’ll bring you a sleeping bag from the car before we leave you there.”
“Mean,” Pepper complains. She stands to reach them anyway.
“That would be fun,” Adam says thoughtfully.
“What, sleeping in The Tree? Didn’t work so well the last time,” Wensley points out. Gorillas must be
better at building nests than children.
“No, sleeping here. Under The Tree,” Brian says, picking up Adam’s thread. “There’s the sleeping bags,
we’ve got my camp kit and ready-meals for supper.” They were going on a post-term camping holiday
after the visit home. They're astonishingly well prepared, considering that Adam had pulled off the road
on a whim.
“Nobody’s expecting us back today anyhow,” Adam says. “If you hadn’t sat your last exam early,
Wensley, we’d still be away another two days. Why not spend the night out here? The weather should be
good.”
It will be, now he’s said it. Wensleydale’s known for years that’s how weather works around Adam.
Brian smacks a kiss to Adam’s mouth, loud and obnoxious to make him laugh, and rolls off him, heading
toward Adam’s bucket of a Nissan for the gear. Pepper jumps back to earth with a handful of leaves for
Wensley and offers a hand to Adam, who pulls her down instead of using it to get up.
Pepper groans and elbows him in the shoulder, then settles on his other side. She buries her fingers in
the moss and sighs. “It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve been here, but it also feels like it hasn’t been
nearly any time at all. Are you being weird again?”
“Not so far as I know,” Adam mumbles, shifting so he can rest his head in Wensley’s lap and his knees
across hers. Wensley starts placing the leaves just so in Adam’s hair, threading green into gold until they
fan up around his head like a crown.
Brian comes tromping back with the sleeping bags tied together and slung over his shoulders like
saddlebags and the camping box clutched in both hands.
“Pepper, you want to make a fire?” Adam asks.
“Not ‘til closer to dusk. There’s not much dry wood about.” She levers herself upright to unload Brian,
setting up the little campstove and passing out water bottles. The two of them spend about ten minutes
zipping all the sleeping bags together into one giant Frankenbag and clearing the rocks and sticks from a
patch of ground to lay it out over the blue tarpaulin.
“Didn’t bother with the tent,” Brian says, sprawling next to Adam and Wensley.
“Good,” Pepper declares. “If Adam says it won’t rain, I’d rather have the tree for cover.”
“Hippie,” Wensley teases.
“Ugh, I can’t help it. Some things are genetic, I guess. One night of inadvisable camping won’t kill me. At
least we know there aren’t goats around here.” She leans on him and tweaks a couple of leaves out of
his pile, weaving the stem of one into her own braid and sticking the other behind Wensley’s ear. He nips
at her fingers, his hands still in Adam's hair. Pepper flicks his ear. Brian makes grabby hands at her last
leaf and she drops it on his face.
He leans down, foregoing breathing to kiss Adam instead, their mouths sideways on each other, but so
amazingly right he could die of it. Brian whistles, loud and appreciative, too close, and Pepper shuts him
up by clapping her hand over his mouth. Wensley’s cheeks burn. Adam grins up at him and curls his
hand over the back of Wensley’s neck, rubbing the strain away and licking his lips.
Pepper makes a startled sound, then Brian says, “Yuck!” and Wensley and Adam break apart to see
Pepper laughing at him.
“Her fingers taste of tree and moss,” he complains, wiping his mouth. “I’m calling anti-dibs on them
anywhere inside me until you’ve had a wash.”
“Brian, you are the most frequently dirt-covered person I’ve ever kissed,” Wensleydale points out. “Glass
houses.”
“I wash up before we have it off though,” Brian protests.
“Nobody asked you to put your tongue on my fingers,” Pepper says loftily.
“They were on my mouth,” he says, waving his hands in outrage. “Things on my mouth are already
basically in it. Why would you-” Pepper cuts him off with a kiss and he subsides into pleased noises for a
moment. As soon as she lets him up for air, he adds, “Everyone’s having a wash before we do anything
more than kissing though, or I’m telling you all about noroviruses in detail.”
Adam laughs, rolling onto his side and stretching in the way he does that makes them all twitchy with lust
(they’ve discussed it loudly and at length, while Adam protests that it isn’t anything he does on purpose;
it’s vastly unfair). “You got a washbasin and soap in your camping kit?”
“Yes, I do.” Brian is a wonderful person and Wensleydale appreciates his forethought.
Washing is a shambles of splashing and shoving, but the Them do get properly clean before Pepper trips
Brian and flops beside him on the sleeping bag pile, pulling Adam down with her. Wensley follows,
pulling off his shirt, which had gotten the wettest of all their things. Brian’s damp handprints make his
skin prickle in the breath of a breeze that shivers the leaves above them. His friends grin up at him and
take his hands, then they’re all piled together cuddling him to take away the goosebumps, lusty, laughing
and shedding leaves.
Beneath The Tree, The Them have each other, the green-gold sunlight flickering over their joy.
Author: Secret
Rating: T
Ship: The Them, established polycule.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Messrs. Gaiman and Pratchett and no copyright infringement is intended in this transformative work.
Recipient: lunatique
Word count: 1830
A.N.: Happy holidays, lunatique! Beta thanks to kittydorkling. The title comes from a proverb: “A tree with
strong roots laughs at storms.”
Summary: The Them, home on summer holiday, stop at one of their old hangouts and spend some time
together. Wensleydale feels philosophical about maths.
***
Above the quarry, the Them have The Tree. There’s always The Tree. There inevitably is for any group
of kids let loose to run around outside and entertain themselves.
Sometimes it's not a tree. It's a saguaro or a big rock or a light pole or a cave or even a specific chunk of concrete. But nearly always it's a tree, if there's one available. Humans are Like That.
It's not a fruit tree. Apple would be too trite. Figs and pomegranates don't grow in England, usually, and
it's important that it's a Wild Tree. It's a low-sprawling oak with a double top, ancient and oddly shaped
and interestingly knotty. Birds and squirrels nest in it and have loud territorial disputes over the best
holes and forks.
Adam gets a black eye when he fails to duck a low branch during tag, and Wensley misses a week of
school with an arm broken falling out of it, and Pepper shreds her palms and her jeans trying to slide
down it like a firefighter's pole, and Brian drops off a branch headfirst while hanging by his knees and his
nose bleeds all down his front and Wensley's sleeve. They play pirate ship in The Tree and make gorilla
nests to try to sleep in the boughs. They swordfight with fallen sticks and smush their faces into the trunk
to see the patterns it leaves lined in their skin. Dog chews a chunk of bark off one side when he’s young
and looks adorably dejected when he’s scolded for it. They build the most giant leaf pile In The World to
jump in with its drifts of brown leaves, and bury Dog and Pepper’s little sister (who falls asleep and nearly
gets forgotten).
When they are eleven, Wensleydale and Pepper use sticks from The Tree to make a pair of scales and a
sword. And, leaning against the trunk, making plans and growing angry, Adam almost glows from within,
with a light that hurts when it touches, and leaves a patch of bark scarred like lightning’s hit it.
The world doesn’t end and The Tree is still there.
They grow. The Tree does too, leafing and spreading its pollen on the wind to explore new places and
pollinate interesting new friends, dropping acorns in season, hosting new generations of birds and
squirrels.
The Them leave, for shorter and longer times.
***
The Tree loses a limb in a spring storm when they’re away at uni and, coming back, Adam gapes at the
hole in the canopy like it's a finger missing from his own hand.
“Things are allowed to change,” Wensleydale says quietly, flipping his ballpoint pen between his fingers.
It’s a nice pen, an expensive one that his aunt sent him for his birthday; it’s solid between his fingers and
the ink never sputters.
“I know,” Adam says quickly. “Of course.”
Brian tackles him from behind and sends them both into the moss at the base of the tree, Adam’s roll the
only thing that saves both their heads from cracking into a knobby root. Brian, unconcerned, sprawls
across his torso with their legs tangling, ignoring Adam’s breathless claims he’s being squashed, and
lectures him in detail about all the new things that will be eating or building homes in the rotting remains
of the old branch. There are several varieties of beetle involved.
Pepper climbs up on a branch above them to look out over their old play spots, and presses her fingers
into the bark until it marks her skin. Wensley settles with his back against the tree, watches a stray lock
of her hair float in the breeze, listens to Brian, and pets his fingertips down the line of skin between
Adam’s ear and shirt collar.
“Bring some leaves down with you,” Wensley calls up to her after a moment.
“What if I was planning to stay?” she asks, returning from whatever thoughts had drifted her away from
Them.
“Throw some down, then, and I’ll bring you a sleeping bag from the car before we leave you there.”
“Mean,” Pepper complains. She stands to reach them anyway.
“That would be fun,” Adam says thoughtfully.
“What, sleeping in The Tree? Didn’t work so well the last time,” Wensley points out. Gorillas must be
better at building nests than children.
“No, sleeping here. Under The Tree,” Brian says, picking up Adam’s thread. “There’s the sleeping bags,
we’ve got my camp kit and ready-meals for supper.” They were going on a post-term camping holiday
after the visit home. They're astonishingly well prepared, considering that Adam had pulled off the road
on a whim.
“Nobody’s expecting us back today anyhow,” Adam says. “If you hadn’t sat your last exam early,
Wensley, we’d still be away another two days. Why not spend the night out here? The weather should be
good.”
It will be, now he’s said it. Wensleydale’s known for years that’s how weather works around Adam.
Brian smacks a kiss to Adam’s mouth, loud and obnoxious to make him laugh, and rolls off him, heading
toward Adam’s bucket of a Nissan for the gear. Pepper jumps back to earth with a handful of leaves for
Wensley and offers a hand to Adam, who pulls her down instead of using it to get up.
Pepper groans and elbows him in the shoulder, then settles on his other side. She buries her fingers in
the moss and sighs. “It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve been here, but it also feels like it hasn’t been
nearly any time at all. Are you being weird again?”
“Not so far as I know,” Adam mumbles, shifting so he can rest his head in Wensley’s lap and his knees
across hers. Wensley starts placing the leaves just so in Adam’s hair, threading green into gold until they
fan up around his head like a crown.
Brian comes tromping back with the sleeping bags tied together and slung over his shoulders like
saddlebags and the camping box clutched in both hands.
“Pepper, you want to make a fire?” Adam asks.
“Not ‘til closer to dusk. There’s not much dry wood about.” She levers herself upright to unload Brian,
setting up the little campstove and passing out water bottles. The two of them spend about ten minutes
zipping all the sleeping bags together into one giant Frankenbag and clearing the rocks and sticks from a
patch of ground to lay it out over the blue tarpaulin.
“Didn’t bother with the tent,” Brian says, sprawling next to Adam and Wensley.
“Good,” Pepper declares. “If Adam says it won’t rain, I’d rather have the tree for cover.”
“Hippie,” Wensley teases.
“Ugh, I can’t help it. Some things are genetic, I guess. One night of inadvisable camping won’t kill me. At
least we know there aren’t goats around here.” She leans on him and tweaks a couple of leaves out of
his pile, weaving the stem of one into her own braid and sticking the other behind Wensley’s ear. He nips
at her fingers, his hands still in Adam's hair. Pepper flicks his ear. Brian makes grabby hands at her last
leaf and she drops it on his face.
Jeremy Allan Wensleydale, three marked exams away from his BSc and the glorious reliability of
chartered accountancy, is not a poetic man, but he is good at sums, even the ones that aren’t
rooted in logic.
The Tree is an irrational space, which becomes a ship, or castle, or monkey habitat at will.
Irrational things are still real. They are still important.
Under The Tree, irrational numbers have a place, even though they can’t be defined. None of the
other Them have ever been easily, properly calculable. Adam is phi, the golden ratio, something
in his bones woven with the patterns of the universe. Brian is simpler, the square root of two,
which should be easy and pin-downable, but isn’t. An even-keeled thing going off on an
adventure with no end in sight. Pepper is pi, beloved and essential and defying all attempts to
make her into something that can be measured. Three irrational numbers and an integer (he’s
always fancied four, a very sturdy, reliable number) can’t be added to make something logical.
But things don’t have to be logical to happen. He knows that as well as anyone in the world. They
can figure each other out close enough to work.
He leans down, foregoing breathing to kiss Adam instead, their mouths sideways on each other, but so
amazingly right he could die of it. Brian whistles, loud and appreciative, too close, and Pepper shuts him
up by clapping her hand over his mouth. Wensley’s cheeks burn. Adam grins up at him and curls his
hand over the back of Wensley’s neck, rubbing the strain away and licking his lips.
Pepper makes a startled sound, then Brian says, “Yuck!” and Wensley and Adam break apart to see
Pepper laughing at him.
“Her fingers taste of tree and moss,” he complains, wiping his mouth. “I’m calling anti-dibs on them
anywhere inside me until you’ve had a wash.”
“Brian, you are the most frequently dirt-covered person I’ve ever kissed,” Wensleydale points out. “Glass
houses.”
“I wash up before we have it off though,” Brian protests.
“Nobody asked you to put your tongue on my fingers,” Pepper says loftily.
“They were on my mouth,” he says, waving his hands in outrage. “Things on my mouth are already
basically in it. Why would you-” Pepper cuts him off with a kiss and he subsides into pleased noises for a
moment. As soon as she lets him up for air, he adds, “Everyone’s having a wash before we do anything
more than kissing though, or I’m telling you all about noroviruses in detail.”
Adam laughs, rolling onto his side and stretching in the way he does that makes them all twitchy with lust
(they’ve discussed it loudly and at length, while Adam protests that it isn’t anything he does on purpose;
it’s vastly unfair). “You got a washbasin and soap in your camping kit?”
“Yes, I do.” Brian is a wonderful person and Wensleydale appreciates his forethought.
Washing is a shambles of splashing and shoving, but the Them do get properly clean before Pepper trips
Brian and flops beside him on the sleeping bag pile, pulling Adam down with her. Wensley follows,
pulling off his shirt, which had gotten the wettest of all their things. Brian’s damp handprints make his
skin prickle in the breath of a breeze that shivers the leaves above them. His friends grin up at him and
take his hands, then they’re all piled together cuddling him to take away the goosebumps, lusty, laughing
and shedding leaves.
The math goes like this: 1+1+1+1=4.
1 and 4 are the first nonprime numbers, the first that are combinations together. Wensleydale
finds this unaccountably comforting.
Beneath The Tree, The Them have each other, the green-gold sunlight flickering over their joy.
(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-04 09:22 pm (UTC)This is SUCH a beautiful story! It warms my heart and left me feeling such warm fuzzies!!!
I love your use of the tree, it's such a wonderful imagery and gave me a bit of "giving tree" vibes.
I love love LOVE how you write the Them's dynamic. They way they are so comfortable and tender together, both bringing out their effortless closeness of childhood friends who grew up together and the teasing partners-in-a-polycule aspects. <3<3<3 SO GOOD.
REALLY enjoying Wensleydale POV. I can definitely see him as the one who is the closest to having A Regular Adult Job, but the contrast of that with the part of him life that is irrational and in some ways fantastic is just so poignant!
“Brian, you are the most frequently dirt-covered person I’ve ever kissed,” Wensleydale points out. “Glass
houses.” I LAUGHED SO MUCH
“Good,” Pepper declares. “If Adam says it won’t rain, I’d rather have the tree for cover.” gosh I have soo many feelings about this and no words to express them. Im so happy that Adam has ppl who love him unreservedly for who he is, all the complexities and irrational bits of him and that just makes their bond so rich and so wonderful!
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THSI WONDERFUL GIFT!!!!!!! <3<3<3 I love this story sooo much!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-04 10:39 pm (UTC)Happy Holidays!