When All of Your Wishes Are Granted

"Y'know, for as much as I fuckin' hate the holidays, this is actually pretty nice." Pogo's eyes wandered about the town slowly, taking in all the carefully set up decorations and lights.

I grinned, "I told you it wouldn't be that bad." I rested my head on the keyboardist's shoulder.

"Yeah, well, the only reason it doesn't suck is because you're here."

Silence fell between the two of us. It had taken a lot for me to coax Pogo out of the house. He had adamantly refused to do anything related to physical activity or Christmas during our break - going for a walk to see the Christmas lights was completely out of the question. My only strategy was to indulge in a substantial amount of complaining and prodding for the keyboardist to finally crack and don his jacket and boots and leave the house.

Frozen condensation puffed from our mouths as we walked down the snow-covered streets. Aside from the occasional car, we were the only people outside. Everyone else was staying indoors, celebrating Christmas Eve with their families. It was peaceful, being the only ones outside, admiring the twinkling lights that decorated the trees.

"I never really stopped to look at the lights before. Never really cared," Pogo murmured. He lit a cigarette that I hadn't even noticed him pull out. He took a drag before handing it to me. "I'm glad you forced me out here."

"I'm just glad you even decided to come with me. It's one of those things that are really nice, and no one ever really pays a lot of attention to them. I did when I was a kid, but now... not so much." I shrugged, inhaled some smoke, and handed the cigarette back to Pogo.

"You kind of forget about the little things when all you've known for the past few years is fuckin' huge," he said, referring to the fact that, once we began touring the world, drugs and sex became more important ways to destroy boredom than the things that used to mean so much at home. I had only been touring for a few months, and I was already feeling the effects.

Pogo threw his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it with his boot. He shivered and shoved his hand into this pocket. We had decided to rent a house in northern California for the holidays. The hustle and bustle of Los Angeles during Christmas wasn't our thing. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, until we realized that neither of us were too fond of snow. We weren't going to let that affect our vacation, however.

"It's fuckin' cold," Pogo muttered as we rounded a corner.

"It's December. I'd hope it would be," I snickered. Despite my words, Pogo's statement forced me to come to terms with just how chilly it really was. My fingers had nearly turned to ice in the pocket of my leather jacket.

"You're gonna be a smart ass now, is that it?" Pogo chuckled sarcastically, nudging me gently with his elbow. I looked up at him, unable to do anything but smile like a little fucking schoolgirl.

"Don't act like you don't love it," I shot back. The keyboardist rolled his eyes.

We turned a corner and were greeted with a small subdivision that seemed to be completely decorated from top to bottom in twinkling lights and decorations. It was beautiful, seeing the reflections of them in the icy snow.

"Why don't we do this?" I asked Pogo.

"Because this is a lot of fucking work. Have you ever tried to put up all these decorations?" In response to his question, I shook my head. He said, "I have. Twiggy made me do it for him one year..." The keyboardist shuddered at the memory.

I giggled. "At least we have a Christmas tree."

Pogo rolled his eyes at me again. He had watched me set up and decorate our tree a few days earlier. Beer in hand, the keyboardist spent the entire time making sexual comments and informing me about the origins of Christmas before letting his train of thought wander off into various other directions. I found his aimless rambling somewhat comforting. He revealed a lot more about his personality when he went off on his tangents, a lot more than I think he intended to. Most people probably wouldn't notice anything important in his words, but after being around him for a few months, I began to pick up on more and more. You'd never find out anything about Pogo if you expected him to tell you directly.

"Y'know what?" I asked in a moment of sudden revelation.

"What?"

"This is the first traditional Christmas I've ever had," I mused, subconsciously inching closer to him for warmth. "With a tree and stockings and a fireplace..."

"Huh. It's mine, too," Pogo said. He told me earlier that he'd never really celebrated Christmas before.

"I'm glad we can spend it together, then," I smiled, brushing some stray, black hair behind my ear. The minute that the cool air touched my fingertips, the felt as if they had been punctured with thousands of icy needles. The keyboardist grunted in response to my question.

Acting on instinct only, I pushed my hand into the pocket of Pogo's jacket. His hands were almost always warm, and that even held truth in the middle of winter. I entwined my fingers with his, making him hiss, "Fuck, your hands are cold." However, he made no move to shove me away. In fact, he pulled me closer to keep me warm.

"I know," I grinned.

Then, in a move that surprised us both, Pogo spun me around and pulled my other hand into his free pocket. It forced me to look up at him, smiling, to avoid pressing my nose against his chest.

"What're you doing?" I asked playfully, curling my fingers around his hand.

"Keeping you warm." The look of contentment on Pogo's face was absolutely pure. It was rare to catch him in such a good mood. He was amiable most of the time, sure, but never like this. Even though he seemed to be a lot happier whenever I was around.

"Oh," I murmured. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Don't want you freezing out here." He leaned his head down and pressed his forehead against mine. His cool green eyes peered into my brown ones. "Hey, Zim?"

"Yeah?"

"You are really fuckin' cold," he announced. "Are you sure you're okay out here?"

"Yup. Don't even feel it," I laughed. It was true; most of my body had gone numb. It probably wasn't a good sign, but I chose to ignore it.

Pogo turned his head up to the sky, looking deep in thought. He pointed out, "The stars are really bright tonight."

I looked up to see. He was right - I don't think I'd ever seen stars so intense and so abundant. They almost seemed like a reflection of the glittering Christmas lights in the night sky. The two of us stood, almost completely motionless, and stared. As we did, a shooting star flew by. It was only there for a millisecond, but it was just enough time for me to make a wish.

Pogo pulled back, keeping one of my hands in his own. He still seemed lost in an ocean of thought, although it didn't seem to be an unpleasant one for him. The small smile on his face was a testament to that. Neither of us spoke as we turned and began the short journey back to our cabin. It felt nice, just to be so close to him. That was what I liked about him: he could ramble on for hours, but his silence felt comfortable and natural.

After a few moments of silence, the keyboardist finally spoke again, asking, "Did you make a wish?" He had somehow produced another cigarette without my realizing. He pulled out his lighter, watching me from the corner of his eye.

The question startled me. "Uh, yeah. I did." As he digested my response, he nodded. Then he took a long, slow drag.

"What'd you wish for?"

"I can't tell you. Then it won't come true."

Pogo snickered and rested his head on mine gently. It was a nice feeling. We couldn't display any affection in public due to the media, but when we were out of the public eye, all bets were off. It made every moment that we spent together so much sweeter.

"What about you?" I mused, nudging him. "Did you make a wish?" The keyboardist shook his head without looking at me. He flicked his cigarette into a pile of snow. "Why not? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't need to. I have everything I could ever want right here."

I had to resist the urge to 'aw' at his statement, but I wouldn't keep the huge smile from spreading across my face. Pogo wasn't the type of person to outwardly confess his feelings. You had to pay attention to the little puzzles that he'd wind as he told you exactly what was on his mind. It was just in an indirect way of going about it.

"Thanks," I murmured quietly, scooting closer to the keyboardist. "And Pogs?"

"Yeah?" His voice sounded absent and far away.

"I love you, too."

Pogo smiled, still looking as if he were dreaming. He squeezed my hand. "What do you sat about doing back to the cabin and warming you up?"

"Hm.... how are you gonna do that?"

"Any way you want," Pogo purred. He stopped us again, pulling me back into him.

I smirked as I looked at him. "I think I have a few ideas. Starting with the fireplace." I knew that wasn't what he was expecting, which made the whole thing much better.

"The fireplace? I can work with that," the keyboardist smiled, nodding as ideas began to swirl into his mind. "It's a shame, though."

I wrinkled my nose in confusion. "What is?"

"You've been such a good boy all year, and I'm gonna love being the one to put you on the naughty list," Pogo grinned.

"Oh my god, Pogo, you are unbelievable," I groaned, although I couldn't keep back my laughter. I tugged on his hand, forcing him to walk forward. "Now come on, before I turn into a snowman."

He looked down at me, a sly grin breaking out over his features. "At least I can make you melt."

"No! Pogo, no more!" I cried as I broke out into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. "I can't handle any more of these ridiculous..." I couldn't even finish the sentence because I was laughing so hard.

"We could role play. You could be the Snow Miser; I could be the Heat Miser."

"I... I just can't take any more, Pogs," I said, gasping for air. I awkwardly leaned against his chest as we stumbled along down the sidewalk in a futile attempt to catch my breath.

"That's good, 'cause I'm all done," he snickered. Pogo wrapped a protective arm around me. "Let's go, Frosty."

"Pogo! I thought you were done!"

He, too, burst out into raucous laughter as I smacked his arm disapprovingly. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't help it!" Pogo cried innocently, holding his hands up in defense.

"You are just... unbelievable," I repeated. Some of the things that came out of Pogo's mouth amazed me. He was the smartest guy in the room, but he was also one of the funniest.

"I try." The keyboardist bent down and placed a kiss on the top of my head. "Hey, Zimmy."

With a bit of hesitation, I asked, "What?"

"I love you, d'you know that?." Pogo wrapped his arms around me once again, as if he didn't like to let me be even a few inches away. I thought the gesture was sweet.

"Of course I know that. I love you, too, Pogs," I murmured as I nuzzled into the warmth of his side.

Pogo smiled, content with my answer. "Good."