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joelalorian · 1 day ago

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Wonder in Winterland - Part III

Hallmark!Joel x f!reader | wc: 4764 | masterlist

Series Summary: You, a city girl on a cross-country road trip a week before Christmas, find yourself stranded in a whimsical Christmas town. You soon discover there is more to life than big city dreams. Based on the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas.

Warnings: None (although the rest of this blog is 18+ mdni). This is utter fluff and whimsy, with a occasional foul language and lots of banter in the AU style of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Matchmaker!Sarah. Limited descriptions of reader and no use of y/n. Enjoy it with a cuppa hot cocoa and a warm blankie. Will post on Sundays throughout December.

Series Masterlist

Part III

True to his word, Joel and Sarah arrived at eight o’clock, sharp, with a truck bed full of firewood and a bag of breakfast sandwiches from Tess’s. Maria and Tommy had their hands full, the inn going from you as their only guest to every room being filled up by a large family. You were thrilled to see your newfound friends busy, happily catering to the guests, but part of you already missed the tranquility of the previously empty inn.

Within ten minutes, the firewood was unloaded, and a fresh pile was placed in each guest room and the main sitting room to keep the warm fires going for days. Maria promised to tend the fire in your room so that it would be cozily warm upon your return.

“Ready?” Joel asked, brushing his hands off on his well-worn jeans. “I left the truck running to keep the heat going.”

Zipping up your coat, you nodded. “I’m all set.” Sarah slid her hand into yours while Joel led the way out the door, each of you calling a soft farewell to Maria and Tommy as they served breakfast to the guests.

When you tried to open the front passenger door, Sarah shook her head and refused to let your hand go. “You’ll sit in the back with me,” the young girl insisted. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she added, “We have seat warmers back there! Isn’t that cool?”

Lips curling into an effortless smile at Sarah’s antics, you nodded. “That’s very cool. Are we making your dad be our chauffer?”

“What are you two conspiring about over there?” Joel called through rolled down the window to see what was taking you two so long.

“Oh, just a little girl talk,” you replied nonchalantly, smirking at Sarah, “nothing to concern yourself with”. Popping the rear door open, you helped Sarah climb into the big truck and quickly followed. Your playful gaze met Joel’s confused one in the rearview mirror as you strapped in.

“Is that what you two were talking about? Turning this into a spinoff of Driving Miss Daisy?” Joel asked, a teasing lilt to his deep voice. “I suppose you’ll want to eat your breakfast sandwiches while you’re back there, too. Get the full chauffer experience.”

You and Sarah shared a look before replying in unison, “Yes, please.”

“Uh huh, I see how it is.” With a chuckle, Joel pulled his sandwich from the brown paper bag before passing it back to you. “I got you these, too,” he added, handing over a Diet Coke and a small orange juice. The ride back to the farm was quiet as everyone ate their bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches.

With pleasantly full bellies, you arrived at the farm, Barkley trotting over to greet you all as you exited the truck. “Well, what would you like to do first?”

“We have to show her the tree farm first, Daddy!” Sarah demanded.

With a sigh, Joel looked at his daughter. “Sarah, what did I tell you about being bossy?”

“You told me not to be. And Tommy told me I’m not bossy, I just have leadership skills!” she asserted, hands on her hips as she stared her father down. “Maria said all successful women have leadership skills, Daddy.” Joel stood there for a moment, uncertain how to respond to that.

Unable to contain it, a bubble of laughter burst from your chest. “That they do, little bug.”

Joel’s shot you a wide-eyed look and shook his head. “Don’t encourage her,” he grumbled. “Ok, let’s go see the tree farm.”

Sarah and Barkley led the way through the snow-covered fields, kicking up flurries with every enthusiastic leap as they bounded ahead. Joel walked beside you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his thick Carhartt jacket, the snow crunching rhythmically beneath his boots with each step.

“This used to be my grandpa’s farm,” Joel explained, his deep voice low and steady. “He started with a handful of horses and a dream to make a living off the land. Now we’ve got a tree farm, board horses, and sell firewood in the winter. In the warmer months we offer horseback riding and ranch experiences. Keeps us busy.”

“It’s beautiful,” you replied, taking in the expanse of white fields framed by a horizon of towering pines, mountains visible in the distance. “I can see why you stayed to take it over.”

Joel’s gaze drifted across the landscape before settling on you. “Yeah. It’s not for everyone, but for some reason, I’ve always enjoyed the peace and quiet of farm life.”

Before you could respond, Sarah called out, “Come on! You’ve gotta see the tree farm!”

Joel shook his head at his daughter’s antics. “Your tour guide is very bossy, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever, Mister! She’s a girl with leadership skills!” you teased, swooping down to scoop up some snow and form it into a ball. Tossing it against Joel’s chest, you darted away to catch up to Sarah, calling over your shoulder, “Come on, slow poke!”

“What’s the rush? The trees aren’t going anywhere!” he shouted back, eliciting giggles from you and Sarah, Barkley chiming in with a few well-timed barks.

In a forested patch behind the barn sat the tree farm, its rows of evergreens dusted with snow, glittering faintly in the soft morning sunlight, nature’s Christmas lights. Sarah darted between the trees, pointing out her favorites and sharing how long it took for them to grow so big.

“This one’s perfect for a Christmas tree!” she exclaimed, gesturing to a tall, symmetrical fir. “But Dad says we’re keeping it for next year.”

“She’s already picked our tree for next Christmas and the one after,” Joel said, his voice full of affection. “I guess it’s true about those leadership skills. She’s always planning and thinking two steps ahead.”

“I like a girl with a vision,” you teased, earning a triumphant grin from Sarah.

As you walked deeper into the grove, Sarah paused, her gaze catching on the ground beneath the trees. Freshly fallen pinecones sat on top of the fresh layer of snow. “Dad! Look at all the pinecones!” She crouched to pick one up, brushing the powdery snow from its bottom. “Can we collect some? Auntie Maria showed me how to make them into decorations and said she always needs more.” Turning to you, Sarah added, “She gives them away to the guests when they leave. I’m sure you’ll get one!”

Joel scratched the back of his neck, glancing at you with a small smile. “What do you think, darlin’? You up for some scavenging and then sticking around to help us make decorations?”

“I’d love to!” you replied, crouching down to pick up a pinecone of your own. Its woody surface was cold and textured under your gloves, a perfect little symbol of the season. “Maria’ll love these.”

With that, the three of you set about gathering the scattered cones. Barkley trotted happily between you, occasionally sniffing at your finds before bounding off to chase the next falling flurry or occasional squirrel. Joel kept an eye on Sarah, intermittently calling out an instruction with warmth. “That one’s perfect – grab it.”

At one point, Joel knelt in the snow to pick up a particularly large cone beneath the tallest tree on the property. As he stood, he held it out to you with a playful grin. “This one’s got ‘centerpiece’ written all over it.”

You took it, your gloved fingers brushing against his briefly, warmth spreading beneath the extra layer. “You’ve got a good eye for these,” you teased, earning a deep chuckle.

Sarah appeared between two smaller trees with her arms full, breath forming little cloud puffs in the cold. “We have so many! This is gonna look amazing at the inn. Auntie will be so happy!”

“She sure will,” Joel said, ruffling her red knit hat affectionately. “Now let’s head back before we freeze our fingers off.”

Joel’s house was warm and inviting, the scent of woodsmoke and cinnamon greeting you as you stepped inside and shucked your boots and coat. It was a scent, just like pine, that you were beginning to associate with Joel. The living area was a picture of rustic charm – wood-paneled walls, cozy plaid throws draped over a baseball glove leather couch, and a roaring fire crackling in the hearth. Sarah set the basket of pinecones on the coffee table with a triumphant grin, shedding her hat and gloves in the process.

Joel led you to a large, old mahogany table with an easy smile before moving toward the kitchen to make hot cocoa. Sarah ran straight to a hutch next to the table, pulling out a box full of jars of glitter, ribbons, and sprigs of holly. You helped Sarah arrange the items how she wanted them and divided up the pile of pinecones so all three of you had some to work on.

Handing you a steaming mug, Joel’s fingers brushed yours, sending a warm jolt through you. Those jolts were beginning to happen more frequently, you noted, and heat rushed to your cheeks.

“Here you go, little bug,” he said as he placed a mug in front of his daughter.

Sarah’s wide eyes darted from her mug to yours, a small frown creasing her brow. “She has more marshmallows than me!”

“No, she doesn’t, my sweet, petulant child,” Joel sighed and you barely stifled a laugh. “I gave all of us ten mini marshmallows, so we all have the same amount.”

You reached for a pinecone from your pile, trying to hide the curve of your lips. For as great a kid as Sarah was, she was still a child prone to typical childish behavior. The young girl was quickly appeased when she counted everyone’s marshmallows and deemed her father correct and you all settled in to make decorations.

As you tied a small red ribbon around the top of a pinecone, Sarah sprinkled glitter onto another, the sparkly dust catching the soft overhead light. Joel worked beside you; his large hands surprisingly nimble as he twisted small wire hangers onto some of the cones for placing on the tree at the inn. Barkley sat at your feet, thick fur warming your sock-covered toes, his tail occasionally thumping against the floor.

A comfortable silence, aside from the gentle melody of holiday music playing in the background, settled around the table as everyone worked on their creations until there were no pinecones left.

“Think Maria’ll like these?” Joel asked, holding up two of his creations. The gold ribbon on one was wildly crooked and the holly on the other was off-center, yet the imperfections made the ornaments even more charming.

“She’ll love them,” you said, smiling. “And if she doesn’t, I’ll take them, and it will be her loss.”

Joel’s laugh was low and warm, the kind that wrapped around you like a beloved blanket, and you knew at once that you would keep at least one of the ornaments they made.

Sarah held up one of her pinecones, the glitter thick and uneven, but shining with the same radiance as her proud smile. “What about mine?”

“It’s perfect,” Joel said, his voice rumbly and full of fatherly pride. “We’ll hang that one front and center at the inn.”

“She’ll like that one best, I think,” you added, watching the young girl’s smile light up impossibly brighter.

You leant back in your chair, watching father and daughter titter over each other’s creations, your heart full in a way you hadn’t expected when the day began – a way that you didn’t think it ever could be. Joel caught your eye across the table, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had gone quiet, the flickering firelight casting soft shadows on his face.

“Thanks for helping out yesterday and today,” he said, voice low, ending the spell. “Maria and Tommy are lucky to have you around.”

The sincerity in his words warmed you more than the fire ever could. “I think I’m the lucky one,” you replied softly, the words carrying more truth than you intended.

Snow was falling again when Joel drove you back to the inn, Sarah and Barkley keeping each other warm in the back seat as he maneuvered the truck through the small town. The three of you arrived just in time for dinner, the inn bustling with chatter and merriment as the guests sat around the large table. Joel led you and Sarah to the sitting room to eat dinner in front of the fire, letting the guests enjoy their space. The dining room too crowded for his liking, anyway. Once everyone finished their meals, you helped all four Millers clean up while the other guests left to see the town square lit up at night.

Afterwards, Sarah presented the pinecone ornaments to Maria, explaining in great detail how the three of you collected and decorated them together at the farm. Maria’s smile glowed at the young girl’s excitement, shooting you a knowing look. Tommy lounged on the couch, teasing Barkley with a rope toy while Joel watched from the corner of the room, arms crossed and a quietly amused expression on his handsome face.

A cozy peacefulness settled over the inn with just the five of you and Barkley enjoying the warmth of the fire. The jangle of the landline phone shattered the quiet scene, and Maria moved to answer it.

“Hello, Winterland Inn, this is Maria. How may I help you?”

Your lips quirked up at how quickly she switched to professional mode, watching as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Oh, hi Jimmy,” Maria replied, her voice brightening, and you perked up knowing it had to be about your truck. After a short exchange, she hung up and turned to you with a grin. “Good news! Jimmy said the parts for you truck should be here within the next two days.”

“That’s great!” you said, though the words felt unexpectedly bittersweet. As much as you needed to get back on the road to make it to the wedding in time, the thought of leaving Winterland – and the Millers – already tugged uncomfortably at your heart.

Sarah froze in the middle of arranging the pinecones on the tree, her wide eyes snapping to you. “What? You’re leaving?”

Your eyes darted to meet Joel’s warm gaze, before turning back to Sarah. “Well, yeah, little bug,” you said gently. “Once the truck’s fixed, I’ve got to get back on the road.”

“No!” Sarah jumped up and stamped her foot, her young face etched with determination. “You can’t leave yet! You have to stay, at least until Christmas! It’s the best part of living in Winterland.”

Joel remained silent, standing stonily in the corner, but Tommy snorted from his spot on the couch. “The kid’s got a point. There’s something magical about Christmas in Winterland. What’s a few more days?”

Maria chimed in then, an all-too-innocent grin on her pretty face. “Oh, absolutely. You haven’t really experienced the charm of Winterland until you stay for Christmas… and if you’re going to stay for Christmas, then you might as well stay for New Year’s. There’s nothing like a small-town celebration to ring in the new year!”

They were ganging up on you, yet Joel remained still, his dark eyes boring into you without a word.

“You guys aren’t playing fair!” you laughed. Part of you ached to never leave, yet the other part of you knew you had responsibilities to tend to.

Suddenly realizing that her dad hadn’t chimed in yet, Sarah bounced over to his side, tugging one arm from where he had them crossed against his chest. “Come on, Dad! Tell her she has to stay! You know you want her to just as much as we do.”

Joel’s brow lifted, but his dark eyes flicked towards you, warm and steady. “No pressure, darlin’. But… it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Maria confirmed quietly.

His words sent a small thrill through you, even as you shook your head with a laugh. “Okay, okay,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll think about it, but no promises.”

Sarah grinned triumphantly, already skipping toward the kitchen. “I’ll go get cookies and cocoa to celebrate!”

“I’ll help her,” Tommy called out, quickly chasing after the giggling young girl to make sure she didn’t create a mess in the recently cleaned kitchen.

Maria hung back and gave Joel a nudge. “Why don’t you take a moment and sit with her on the back porch? The view might help her make up her mind.”

Joel’s expression said he knew exactly what Maria was up to, but he turned back to you and tipped his head toward the door anyway. “Care for some fresh air?”

The night air greeted you with a crisp bite as you stepped out onto the wraparound porch. Snow blanketed the stretch of land beyond the inn, glimmering faintly under the soft light of the moon. The view was breathtakingly still, and you held your breath in reverence.

Joel leant against the wooden railing; his hands tucked into the pockets of his flannel-lined jacket. He gazed at the scenery, expression thoughtful. With light steps on the creaking wood planks, you joined him, shoulders brushing.

“This place has a way of getting under your skin, doesn’t it?” Joel said, his voice low.

“It really does,” you admitted, gaze sweeping over the snow-covered expanse. “It’s so different from what I’m used to. Peaceful and quiet. Slower paced.”

Joel nodded, his eyes on the mountain peaks in the distance. “There was a time I thought it was too quiet. Moved away for a bit, tried livin’ in the city – not New York City, mind. But the older I got, the more I missed this – being able to breathe, take things slow. Sarah’s happiest here, so I guess I am, too.”

“I can’t picture you in the city.” Your eyes softened as you took in his profile, backlit by the moonlight. He really was breathtakingly handsome in a rugged, working man kind of way that set your blood on fire.

“Needless to say, I stood out like a sore thumb,” he chuckled before falling silent again.

“Do you think I could ever fit in a place like this?” You don’t know what came over you, asking such a question, but you suddenly longed to belong in such a place, with such a family. This place. This family.

Joel turned to face you fully, his dark eyes searching yours. “You already do, darlin’.”

His words hung in the air, weighty and warm. You felt the urge to look away, to deflect with a joke, but something in Joel’s gaze kept you rooted. “I don’t know that I’ve ever let myself think about settling down, staying anywhere other than the city,” you admitted. “But this… It makes me want to try.”

His eyes sparkled, smile deepening, as he nodded. “Then maybe you should stick around. At least long enough to celebrate Christmas with us, maybe even New Year’s.”

The door creaked open before you could respond, and Sarah popped her head out with a triumphant grin. “It’s cookie time! You comin?”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll be right in, kiddo.” As Sarah ducked back inside, Joel’s gaze lingered on you, the spell unbroken. “Think about it, darlin’,” he said softly. “Winterland’s got a way of surprising people.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you like the snow-covered stillness of night. “I will,” you promised, knowing in your heart that your answer leant more toward yes with every passing moment.

The sun was just creeping over the mountaintops as you made your way down Main Street, the crisp morning air biting at your cheeks and nose. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from Tess’s diner every time the door opened, and you noticed the new painted sign glinting under the pale sunlight as you approached.

Less than ten feet from the entrance, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Glancing at the screen, your stomach tightened at the familiar number. Of course, your boss would call you while technically on vacation. The man lacked boundaries.

“Hi,” you said, forcing a cheerful tone as you answered.

“Hey,” came the reply – brisk and businesslike as always. “How’s San Francisco?”

Glancing around at the picturesque snow-covered town that was not San Fran, you stumbled. “Funny story, actually. Had a little detour – car trouble, you know how it goes. Nothing I can’t handle.”

The sigh that came through the line had you rolling your eyes skyward. “Well, that’s… unfortunate. Are you going to make the wedding? You know how important—”

“Yes, I’m well aware. I’m doing my best with circumstances outside of my control.” Annoyed and frustrated, you didn’t back down. “Now, did you just call to bother me, or did you have a legitimate reason?”

Another sigh. Another eye roll. You weren’t the praying type, but right then you prayed to every holy being for patience.

“Listen, I know you’re technically on break, but…” your boss started. The sheer audacity of the man! “We need your help with something. One of our clients is asking for a last-minute campaign tweak, and you’re the only one I trust to handle it properly.”

Torn between a sense of pride in your work and the desire to launch the phone into the road and watch it be crushed beneath a snowplow; you counted to ten in your head. Deep down, you knew something like this was coming. It always did. He had a team full of very capable and intelligent people, but your boss insisted that you handle certain things.

“Sure,” you caved to the weight of obligation pressing down on you. “Send me what you have, and I’ll take a look. I’m not spending my whole trip working though. I’ll give you no more than a few hours today and that’s it.” You ended the call before he could reply, a gleeful smile alighting your face as you imagined the exasperation you knew marked his expression.

With a quick shake to clear your head, you pushed the door open, the little bell above it jingling cheerfully. Inside, the diner buzzed with a quiet energy. The changes you’d suggested on your first visit were everywhere – new chalkboard menus with fun, festive designs and creative names for the dishes, rearranged seating to maximize the cozy atmosphere, and small vases of fresh greenery on each table.

Stepping further inside, a grin spread wide across your face. “Tess! The place looks amazing!”

The woman of the hour bustled out from behind the counter, her face lighting up when she saw you. “Oh, there you are!” she said, throwing her hands out like she wanted to hug you but waited for consent before she went all in. You pulled her in, hugging her close and rocking side to side. “It’s all thanks to you, sweetheart! Your ideas really brought the place to life, and it really feels like mine now.”

“It was all you, Tess,” you insisted, laughing as Tess waved off your humility. “I just gave you a little nudge in the right direction.”

“You’re too modest for your own good,” Tess replied, grinning as she handed you a tall glass of diet cola. You winked at her remembering your preference. “And I hope you’ll stick around to see the results. We’re having a grand re-opening party on Christmas Eve – live music, good food, the works. You have to come!”

You hesitated, her words pulling at your heart. Your truck was supposed to be ready before then and you had the wedding to rush off to – you’d barely make it in time as it was. But then there were the Millers, each of them wanting you to stay.

Sensing your turmoil, Tess arched a brow. “You’re not planning on skipping town, are you? You’re practically one of us now. It’d break Joel’s heart if you left so soon.”

The thought of leaving Winterland crushed something inside you and your shoulders suddenly felt heavier. Plastering a smile onto your face, trying yet failing to make it reach your eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.” After a beat, you added, “You mind if I park myself in that corner booth and work for a bit?”

“Have at it!” Tess replied waving you off as she returned to work. “I’ll bring you something to eat in a bit.”

You spent the next hour scouring through the file your boss sent over, taking notes on areas to improve in between bites of a savory veggie omelet. Another hour was spent just redoing the entire thing, making it something you knew the client would approve. Finally, you sent off the finished product to your boss. Snapping your laptop shut with a sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Tess slid into the booth across from you, apron dusted with flour and a fresh glass of soda in her hand. “Here, have this. You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders,” she said, tilting her head as she studied you. “What’s going on?”

You opened your mouth but hesitated, unsure what to say. Slipping your hands around the glass of soda, you let the icy dampness ground you. Tess’s sharp gaze remained fixed on you, making it impossible to avoid the question.

“I just…” You sighed, letting your shoulders slump. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Leaning back against the vinyl seat, Tess raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Twirling the straw in your drink, you watched the ice cubes bob in the dark liquid before finally speaking again. “This place… it’s amazing. The people, the town. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed. I mean…” You paused, trying to find the right words. “I never knew what I was missing, you know? I thought my life was perfect back in the city. I have a job that pays really well and I’m good at, a nice apartment, friends.”

Tess’s eyes softened as she listened, quietly urging you to continue with a softly spoken, “But?”

You glanced out the window at the snowy street. “This place has me second guessing everything. But how can I just give all that up on a whim, for a man I hardly know, no less.”

She let your words hang in the air for a few moments before responding in a gentle but firm voice. “No one’s asking you to give up your life. Believe me, Joel would never ask that of you. But it sounds to me like maybe that life isn’t all that you want anymore.”

Her words struck a chord, and you blinked owlishly. “I’ve worked so hard to build my career,” you said. “I didn’t let anything stand in my way. I sacrificed a lot – relationships, free time, sleep, you name it. Now I can’t help but wonder if I’ve ben chasing the wrong things.”

Tess reached across the table, her hand warm and steady on yours. “That’s not something you have to figure out overnight or even in a week. And it sure as hell isn’t something to base on one guy and his sweet little girl, no matter how charming they might be.”

A weak laugh slipped past your lips, the sound tinged with a hint of guilt. “They are pretty damn charming.”

Tess grinned in response. “They are both smitten with you – and I’d dare to say the feeling is mutual – but this isn’t about them. It’s about what makes you happy.”

“I’m not even sure I know what that is anymore,” you admitted in a whisper.

Grip tightening on your hand, Tess kept her gaze steady. “Then maybe it’s time you find out. And if that means extending your unexpected stay here a little longer, figuring things out while you’re still here, then do it. The city isn’t going anywhere and you just proved you can do your job from anywhere. Plus, I think you’d regret it if you left now.”

Tess’s words stayed with you as you left the dinner a while later, but the knot in your chest wouldn’t undo itself, especially when Jimmy called from the garage to let you know the parts arrived and your truck would be ready in the morning.

Winterland and its people had a way of pulling at your heartstrings, but was it enough to change everything?

tbc

tag list (i included anyone who previously commented, requested, or I thought might like to be added, but please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @abirdsnest @brittmb115 @harrysrosetatto @carolineesnell @tuquoquebrute @inept-the-magnificent @lovely-vamp-princess @kyberblade @bluestar22x

#hallmark christmas movie inspired #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #fluff and humor #ppcu fanfiction #hallmark!joel #BlueChristmasWritingChallenge2024

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trulybetty · 7 days ago

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secret santa.

pairing: tim x cagney (f!reader) word count: 2,108 warnings: none, just tim being tim - set in the tim x cagney universe, somewhere before they become a thing for the first time, but you don't have to read any of that to get this estimated reading time: 10 minutes summary: secret santa at the lapd, for the first time tim is participating. ao3: linked

A/N: forgot to add a little note yesterday in my rush to post! This is for @bluestar22x's Christmas Writing Challenge - I recommend you check it out! Also thank you as always to the lovely @gnpwdrandsnshine for providing feedback and ideas and for always being the best to shout about characters and ideas with! 😘

The LAPD precinct was hardly the kind of place to muster any kind of Christmas spirit. The walls were a dull beige, the air reeked faintly of stale, over-brewed coffee, and the fluorescent lights flickered in a way that might make you question your sanity. But that night, the detectives, officers and support staff had transformed it—twinkling lights hung precariously from any high enough hook, a tree stood proudly (if slightly lopsided) in the corner, and the air buzzed with a rare, warm cheer.

Tim leaned against his desk, arms crossed, scowling at the garish tinsel someone had brazenly strewn around his office while he was out. He didn’t do office parties. He didn’t do tinsel. And he certainly didn’t do Secret Santa.

Except this year, he did.

When the sign-up sheet had been passed around, Tim had ignored it. But when you had casually mentioned how excited you were to participate—how the fact that the precinct had invited the assistant DA to join meant so much to you—he’d swiftly hunted down Betty in Operations, who was arranging the whole thing, to scrawl his name down on the list.

However, he didn’t trust fate to do its job. He’d called in a small favour with Betty—an exchange of the kind of mundane paperwork no one wanted to touch—and suddenly he had the only name he cared about.

You wouldn’t know. He’d swear up and down it was destiny if found out.

Paper snowflakes clung to windows, and the smell of mulled cider filled the bullpen. You were standing next to a crowded, multicultural-filled table laden with an array of foods. The warmth of the party tugged a reluctant smile to your face. It wasn’t every day that the grim halls of the LAPD felt this festive.

Your name echoed from somewhere across the room, “Hey, Cagney, come take a look at this tree! I think it’s leaning more than you do after three drinks.”

Detective Rivera waved you over, you rolled your eyes but laughed anyway. The nickname had stuck after Tim—in irritation of course—had called you Cagney after the two of you had argued over a case. He’d meant it as a pointed opinion that you had overstepped your boundaries as ADA. You were too stubborn and very much relentless—it was why you were so good at your job. But it’d firmly stuck when it’d been overheard by Rivera—though he’d remarked that naming you 'Elizabeth' would be more apt given Tim’s last name. The reference had flown over your head at the time. Tim had shut Rivera down with a withering look that had caused Rivera to laugh even harder when you had asked what was so funny.

Regardless, the name stuck and caught on faster than wildfire across both the precinct and the courthouse. You’d leant into it, mostly in defiance of Tim, fully cementing it when you’d dressed up as the detective one Halloween, and then promptly pulled into court. And thanks to an amused Judge the name and outfit reference were recorded in the case transcript courtesy of the court's stenographer.

Still, you didn’t mind it. It made you feel like one of them—an honorary member of the squad, a role that the actual DA, Connor Wallace, struggled with.

“Hey, at least it’s standing up better than you do under cross-examination,” you countered back receiving a chorus of ‘Oooo’s’ from the pen and Rivera’s signature cackle. “Anyway,” you said as you inspected the artificial tree’s crooked branches, “it looks like someone threw a bunch of ornaments on and hoped for the best.”

“If I didn’t know better,” Rivera remarked, flicking a branch, no one knew how old it was but it had been determined it predated even the oldest of them, “I’d say Tim had been involved.”

You laughed as you looked around the room for the detective, “Speaking of, where is he? I thought he was supposed to be a part of this.”

Rivera took a sip of his cider as he nodded to the other side of the room behind you, “Speak of the devil.”

Tim strode into the bullpen, his mere presence demanding the attention and respect of the room. He had left his jacket behind, dressed in his standard uniform of dark slacks, a white pressed shirt with its sleeves carefully rolled up to his forearms. His signature holster over his shoulders, and as always, one of the three ties you knew he owned hung loose around his neck—a minor display of defiance of having to wear one.

Turning around you just caught the softening of his face as he saw the sight of the wide grin you threw him, “There he is, Mr. Christmas himself.”

For just a second, his shoulders seemed to relax, which made your smile a little brighter. But then, as if catching himself in the moment, he looked away, his expression smoothing back into something neutral.

The gift exchange started with the usual mix of chuckles and groans—cheap mugs, joke gifts, lottery tickets that might pay off someone’s bar tab if they were lucky. You perched on the edge of one of the desks, absently sipping cider, when your name was called.

Placing your cider down you stepped forward, catching a few good-natured jeers about ‘lawyers stealing all the good presents, taking all the credit’, and plucked the neatly wrapped package with your name scrawled on it. The wrapping paper was a deep navy blue, tiny gold stars adorned the thick luxury paper and topped off with a velvet red bow. It was too thoughtful for this crowd. You felt a twinge of curiosity and you looked around the crowd gathered trying to figure out who would have been so thoughtful. Carefully, you opened the present with a reverence that felt almost out of place in the boisterous atmosphere.

You swallowed the gasp, curiosity giving away to something else, something softer, when you pulled back the paper to reveal your gift.

It was perfect. Your kind of perfect.

Nestled in a second layer of delicate tissue paper was a cardboard box, its familiar blue red and white colours standing out to you already. You didn’t need to pull back the paper to know what this was. This was a 6 Transistor Tape Recorder made by North American. Your breath caught. This wasn’t a generic Secret Santa gift, not the kind of gift you’d get someone who didn’t know you. This was personal.

You lifted the box to look inside—it was pristine, in so much better condition than the one you had tried bidding on over the summer. There were maybe a handful of people—if that—you had told about listening to your grandfather dictate his case notes in his study. He had so many devices, but this one had been his favourite.

You turned it over in your hands, a warmth spreading from your chest spreading to your cheeks. “Okay,” you said, raising it slightly for everyone to see, “This is amazing. Whoever my Secret Santa is—you have some explaining to do.”

The room quickly erupted into good-natured whistles, laughter and the odd question of confusion, but quickly enough moved on to the next Secret Santa participant. But one person caught your attention.

Tim.

He was leaning against one of the desks, arms crossed casually sipping from a chipped LAPD coffee mug. He looked like he did most days—stoic, brooding, and completely uninterested in anything remotely festive. You couldn’t help but feel though that he’d been watching every nuance of your reaction to your gift. That was, except for the briefest flicker in his eyes when he caught you looking at him, he raised his mug in a silent cheers and you could feel an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of you.

The office party had thinned out, most of the partygoers had dispersed, off home or to late-night patrols. It left the precinct quieter but still glowing under the soft multicoloured lights strung everywhere.

You knew where to find him—Tim. Picking up your belongings, you headed towards the far end of the bullpen, pushing through the swinging gate and heading back into the warren of offices that served as detectives’ domains and interrogation rooms. You didn’t have to double-check; you’d probably spent more time in his office than he had.

He didn’t hear you approach, his office door wide open, he was sitting behind his desk, swirling whatever was left in his mug.

“Detective Rockford,” you said, announcing your presence as you leant against the door frame, “you really are not much for festivities are you?”

He cleared his throat, his usual mask of indifference firmly in place, “Not really my thing.”

As he spoke, his knuckles tightened slightly around the mug’s handle, and you caught the way his gaze flicked from your face to the gift under your arm before he forced himself to look away.

You pulled your gift out from under your arm, “This is something, though. Pretty big coincidence, don’t you think detective?”

He shrugged, a little too casually—for such a hardened detective, his poker face needed some work, “Could’ve been anyone.”

“Could it?” You asked, tilting your head, and narrowing your eyes. “Because I’m thinking…” you tapped your finger against your bottom lip, “it’s not a coincidence. There’s less than a handful of people I told about this, and only one of them is in this precinct.”

You saw him stiffen slightly, still not wanting to admit his part in the gift, “Don’t know what you’re talking about Cagney. There’s a handful of competent detectives around here and half of them were in on this too, they could have figured it out.”

“You sure?” you stepped closer, placing your gift down, you placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward lowering your voice, “because either you’re my Secret Santa, or you’ve been sharing my secrets with someone else.”

The space between you seemed to shrink, the air thickening. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense, his eyes flick down to your hands on his desk. The idea of him gossiping was absurd, and you both knew it.

This is what finally cracked him, he pushed back in his chair and his lips twitched—barely, but enough for you to catch it.

He rounded his desk, avoiding the self-satisfying smirk on your lips. You opened your mouth to revel in your detective prowess, even if it was an open and shut case, when you glanced up. There, just above you and Tim was a small sprig of green tied with a neat red bow dangling from the ceiling.

“Huh,” you said, your voice full of mock innocence, “would you look at that? Mistletoe.”

His eyes followed yours, his posture stiffened and you could see a flush creeping up his neck, “That’s Rivera’s idea of a joke.”

“Sure,” you nodded, looking up at him, “but you know, the rules.”

“The rules?” he asked, swallowing hard.

“Uh huh, and we all know how you’re a stickler for the rules.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he’d move. His jaw tightened, and his gaze locked on yours. The air between you crackled, growing heavier, warmer. He didn’t pull away when you stepped closer, close enough to see the flicker of something uncertain in his eyes.

You were close enough to catch the faint scent of his aftershave, to see the tight line of his shoulders, as if he were deciding which way to move. Neither of you had mentioned the almost kiss in his car almost two months ago now—when you’d been taking part in the compulsory ride-along, he’d pulled strings then too. Then he had made the first move, this time it seemed like he was debating the value of the moment.

So you made the first move.

You leaned in and kissed him, soft and brief, but enough to feel his breath catch against yours. It was shorter than you’d like, but if you were going to kiss this man, and kiss him properly, it wasn’t going to be in his office with half the department outside the door. When you pulled back, his eyes stayed on yours, dark and unreadable, but his lips parted as if he wanted to say something.

You smiled, a genuinely warm one, feeling your heart pound against your ribs. “Merry Christmas, Tim.”

For the first time since you’d entered his office, his mask cracked, and he gave you the faintest, most genuine smile you’d ever seen, realization dawning on him. “Merry Christmas Cagney.”

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