shake the glitter off your clothes now

•

It starts snowing again on the drive to Jan’s studio. Dag sighs. That means he’ll probably have to shovel again this afternoon or tomorrow. Tommy can shovel out the driveway, and will do it without complaint, but he always looks so fucking miserable the entire time, and Dag can’t stand it. No matter how long Tommy’s been in Sweden, he still hasn’t quite acclimated to the weather. Tommy also fucking hates driving in the snow, and Dag watches his hands flex on the steering wheel.

“Do you want to swap?” Dag asks.

“Maybe on the way back, if this keeps up,” Tommy says with a frown, before sighing dramatically. “We need to become snowbirds.”

“Hmmm, what’s that?” Dag reaches out and tugs lightly on one of Tommy’s curls.

“Old people that spend the winter in places with nice weather,” Tommy explains.

“Not old yet. We could go back to LA and drop in on your friend that’s renting,” Dag laughs. “Live in that little house in the back yard.”

“Casita,” Tommy corrects, just like he does every time.

Right now the casita is mostly filled with shit that Phorid likes to have on tour in North America, but that wasn’t worth trying to bring back: extra gear and Henrik’s tiny charcoal grill and probably some merch. It’s cheaper and more convenient than a storage unit.

“Or what about Spain?” Tommy continues, looking wistful.

“When I win the lottery I will take you wintering in Spain,” Dag promises, twisting that lock of Tommy’s hair around and around his finger. “As long as you make sure my back has enough sunblock.”