#let’s be honest this is my Christmas present the holiday season is over as far as I’m concerned

[munsons-mutiny]

SEASON 3 BABY!!!!!!!!

[fighterkimburgess]

Life In The Fast Lane Chapter 1: Bahrain

Summary: Kim finds out a closely guarded secret about her brother, but more gossip about her relationships doesn’t help even though Adam does well. Masterlist

Words: 4k

Warnings: Bob Ruzek’s A+ Parenting, mentions of child neglect and emotional abuse.

There’s an authors note with definitions at the end.

—

The winter break hadn’t been nearly long enough as far as Kim was concerned. They’d spent Christmas together in Monaco, going over to Sarah and Crockett’s to see what Pere Noel had brought Lolly for the holiday. Sarah had surprised them with mistletoe as they walked into the apartment, Adam kissing Kim with a wry smile. Lolly was found surrounded by gifts from Santa, her very favourite a hot sauce gift set that she refused to let go of. Kim and Adam - mostly Adam if Kim was honest - had gotten her a go kart to use while they travelled and seeing the bigger car made the girl light up. At first she put it at the front of the line of toy cars surrounding her. Once Adam showed her the blue and red helmet to match his own and the grey race suit she understood exactly what she could do, sitting into the vehicle. 

The next afternoon involved the four adults driving out to a karting track in Eze. Lolly copied Adam’s every movement as they raced on the tiny vehicles. It was an immediate hit as a present, even while Sarah cringed watching her barely bigger than a toddler child drive at thirty miles an hour.

They’d even gotten to go on vacation for a week together. Adam had organised a jet to bring them to the Caribbean so they could wander around the Guadeloupe Islands together hand in hand. His off season beard meant he wasn’t recognised and they got to act like any two tourists. The only photos posted on Instagram were from when they got back. Kim wasn’t visible in anything on his profile, and he was missing from hers. They were rested and relaxed, ready for the next season even if she could have done with more time off.

When preseason testing rolled around she was working with both Plouch and VR depending on the session, she and Kevin running between places like bats out of hell. She worked with Roman, getting his timings right and praying he didn’t hit someone else or spin off into a run off, then go to Adam who was getting to grips with a new car and wheel. The internal systems were completely different for them which made it a fun challenge. Kim would dip into the bathroom to change her shirt as she moved between the garages. From there she raised the vacated pit wall seat up, sat down, and plugged in the new headset to find out what was going on.

In between testing in Barcelona and Bahrain Kim officially moved into Adam’s apartment. It was a risk they were willing to take to live together fully. She had to give Trudy her new address, walking into the principal’s office and handing over the form. Trudy looked at the address with a slowly raising eyebrow before staring up at Kim.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I’m just moving, Trudy. Nothing else is changing in my life.

It was so hard to keep everything mostly to herself. Every week more gossip accounts appeared on Instagram and TikTok. They posted about the drivers and their personal lives, comparing wives and girlfriends and making Kim feel weird. A photo of Kelly Severide and rookie Stella Kidd kissing on vacation in Italy went viral, even outside the F1 bubble. Part of her was jealous. She wished she could have shared the photo of Adam kissing her cheek from their vacation even on her close friends Insta story. But the other part of her was glad that it was private and that the media couldn’t get involved any more in her life. She’d seen the media frenzy that Roman’s last girlfriend had to deal with. Jenn had left him because he wouldn’t commit and there were photos of him kissing women at parties and it ended up slapped all over the internet. Plus the mayhem that occurred when people thought Lolly was Adam’s child was enough to make her never want it.

The day before they were due to fly to Bahrain for the first race of the year she was in a cafe in Monaco. March fog had cleared to a warm day as she took an outdoor table. Kim never felt truly cold now that the majority of her home life was almost entirely based around the Mediterranean Sea. There were no more minus 40 days that made her miss her rural Illinois home. The second chair at her table was pulled out as Mouse sat down, graceful as his gangly legs would let him.

“Penny for them?” He asked as Kim shook her head.

“Stuff and things. Whether going public is a good idea or the worst thing we could possibly do?” She semi asked before taking a sip of the fruit tea in front of her.

“Can you keep a secret?” Kim nodded while she watched the older man’s slim fingers fidget with the air in front of him. “I know exactly what you’re going through. But it’s been five years.”

“You’re not making sense. Since what?”

“It’s five years since Jay and I started sleeping together and we’ve been dating for the last four and a half. So if anybody in this bubble we live in gets it, I do. He’s telling Adam today, that’s why I’m telling you. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.”

“Is it worth it?” Kim asked after a few moments. Mouse nodded before the full question was out.

“So worth it. He can’t come out. Not while he’s driving. And we couldn’t tell Antonio because it’s not like Dawson can keep a secret. We agreed that before he retires he’ll come out to make it easier for the younger kids. If a certain someone doesn’t decide to come out before he does.” The nod between them was enough to know that they both understood before he continued. “Mom and Will both know about us but that’s it. I told Jay I wanted to tell you but not why. I think he thinks it’s cause you’re basically my sister. And being able to tell Adam and trust him with something will help Jay too.”

“Thanks for telling me.” It was a comfortable silence for a few moments, the ambience only broken by the roar of a super car going past. “How have you kept it so quiet?”

“Hailey was his beard for a year.” Kim’s near cackle shattered the quiet between them, looking curiously at her brother as she regained her composure.

“Upton? His PR person? How did you end up roping her into that?”

“Her girlfriend does PR for Goat, she’s their Head of Comms. They didn’t want people knowing they were together and dealing with the cross team worries until they were serious. They pretended to date, did some red carpet events, went to the FIA gala together. It worked for both of them, what else was he supposed to do?”

“Ok, point taken.” She smiled and finished the last sips of her drink. “We should get together for dinner in Bahrain. It’d be nice to spend some time as a couple with people who aren’t Sarah and Crockett. I love them, but it’s our routine and there’s only so many times you can do it. When are you flying out?”

“Tomorrow. We’re on the same jet as the two of you, Jay wants some extra days to adjust to the lack of humidity. I agreed as long as I have an air conditioned dark room to play video games in with snacks and candy. We can do a room service dinner?”

“Perfect. You can see my mayhem for trying to learn your software.” Kim tried making it a joke but Mouse squeezed her hand.

“When we’re on the plane I’ll go over how it works. I know you and Adam have your own shorthand, but the software is very different to Plouch. Believe me, I helped write the code for yours as Mom’s Christmas present one year. I’ll give you the head start before we get to the track.”

“You are amazing. Dinner when we land tomorrow?”

“Deal, but none of us will be human after the flight.”

The apartment was empty when Kim made it home, Adam out for a job to enjoy the last of their time at home before the chaos began anew. The meal plan that his trainer, Dante, had made up was stuck to their fridge with a magnet and tonight’s meal was chicken and chorizo pasta bake. The food was in the oven and Kim was wiping down their countertops when the front door opened. Heavy thuds paced down the wooden floor into the kitchen.

“Honey, I’m home!” Kim turned to see Adam dripping with sweat and smiling, reaching for a quick kiss to greet him.

“Dinner’s in fifteen. Go shower, you stink.”

“Want to shower with me?” He wiggled his eyebrows but Kim just laughed and shook her head.

“Showering with you means my cooking was pointless, it’ll burn. Go get ready.” He stuck his tongue out at her before turning to go to the shower, Kim calling after his retreating back. “Mouse told me what Jay said to you by the way!”

Over dinner they had the conversation about just how worrying it was to know about Jay and Mouse. Voight wouldn’t drop the driver. He put the team above all else and Jay was their best chance at a championship. But it was still something the media could use against them. Drivers private lives couldn’t be private. Kim still remembered the moment the year before when she walked in on Darren Ritter in a compromising position, not that she cared. But his team would if it brought bad publicity or meant they lost sponsors. Plus being gay was illegal in some of the countries they travelled to.

All things considered the flight to Bahrain was as relaxed as it could be. A car service picked them up from the apartment building and drove them straight to Nice International. It was through passport control in a few minutes and then onto a private jet where Kim relaxed in awe at the plush leather interior.  The flight to the Gulf nation took six hours. Half of it was spent with Mouse learning how to use the software VR used for data and transmission. The other half was spent curled up with Adam watching a movie. Those moments when travelling were so rare. Kim was normally in premium economy with Sarah, Crockett, and Lolly so here she took full advantage.

Once they landed and had their passports stamped it was easy to get to the hotel they were staying in. Officially they were all paying for their own rooms until the rest of the team arrived on Wednesday, so they could stick to the two drivers rooms only. It was three days of bliss for Kim and Adam. They got to relax until it was time to prepare for Shakir and the blistering heat that awaited them, having dinner with their friends.

She’d prepped at this track twice before and it wasn’t anything new, but her place in the team was new. Where Plouch was run on a shoestring - sponsorships hard to come by for the team that was barely making ends meet - VR had everything she could imagine. She didn’t need to do the pit wall setup, and her headset was there waiting at her place. Even the clothing quality was better. The shirt she wore was completely cotton and light in the desert heat. With her hair pulled back and the headset on she finally felt like people would respect her more than they previously had in the sport. 

Thursday went as well as could be expected. Mouse showed her how to set up for the best view and how he organised his notes. She had her own system anyway but was able to blend the two to optimise. The strategy sessions she’d been in had blown her mind. It wasn’t just her and Kevin trying to come up with strategy and tyre degradation ideas, but there was a team analysing data from previous races to give them more information. Everyone’s contributions were listened to and respected. The rush was nearly intoxicating.

She barely saw Adam on Thursday. The day had been spent in press and a GPDA meeting, and the night involved sponsor events and wining and dining the sponsors. He arrived back to the room in fully branded clothing, shaking his head and wrapping her up in his arms for a cuddle and sleep. But Friday was where everything was really going to count.

As soon as Kim watched Adam drive out of the garage on Friday she knew just how good the team move had been for him. The engine purred as he started his run, twenty cars filing out onto the track in unison.

“Plan A?” He asked over the radio.

“Plan A. Keep an eye out, once you finish your out lap you’ll have Gallo, Capp, and Scott ahead of you so it’ll be dirty air. Stick to the plan.”

“Copy.”

Kim watched the data coming in from the car sensors, the temperatures changing to the points of a degree Celsius that they’d expected and the way the car went through fuel was exactly as they thought. Everything was in the limits they’d expected and she couldn’t imagine doing anything else with her life. How could she not enjoy it?

The two practice sessions went by in the blink of an eye, Kim focusing on Adam’s data and where he could shave tenths off his lap times. He’d found almost the perfect racing line and they’d spent time on getting his lines right. Once she got him into clean air during qualifying it would be a sight to behold.

Saturday was a complete blur for her, but with Kim on the radio Adam made it to P3 for his best ever qualifying result. Third place, less than a hundredth of a second away from the front row. Jay was first, and Kelly Severide had made it to P2. Filling out Adam’s row was Ethan Choi. Once the weigh ins and interviews were done Kim watched as the drivers said congratulations to Adam, fans cheering at the sight. It was a cute scene to see.

After the debrief and discussions were over Kim was finally able to leave, exhaustion seeping out of every single one of her pores. The only things she wanted were a hot shower, room service, and bed. But coming out of the motorhome she was stopped by one of the reporters wandering the paddock.

“Kim Burgess, you’re up here with VR because they’re still working out who’s going to pair up the driver of car 21, Adam Ruzek, isn’t that right?” She put on her best media training face.

“Right now we’re seeing who Adam responds to. It’s a new car, new team, so a new engineer might be the right call to make.”

“So it’s not because Hank Voight agrees with Bob Ruzek that, and I’m quoting from Bob after he heard you and Adam speaking during FP3 today, that “Adam needs a firm hand as an engineer, he always did, and a woman isn’t going to be as harsh on him as he needs them to be to get the best out of him.”

Her hackles were raised but Kim kept that same peaceful look on her face, unwilling to give the reporter anymore than she had to.

“Bob can have his own opinions. But Adam and I worked together for more than forty races already, and I helped him get to three podiums and a win. This is a results based business so we’ll see where the results go.”

“Ruzek senior also made some allegations about your personal life, that racing isn’t a place for a woman to live her life. Do you wish to comment on it?” At that Kim fought back the blush threatening to overwhelm her.

“I don’t comment on my personal life. No offence, I think having a coffee with you would be fun, but I can’t see why the world would be interested in my life outside of helping my team win races. Evening!”

With that she waved to the camera and left for the paddock gates immediately. The turnstiles were just too far away for her liking, but she could hear the words repeated around in her head. What the hell had Bob done this time?

It didn’t take long to get on one of the shuttles back to the hotel. As soon as she reached her room she searched Twitter. It was a habit she’d broken nearly as soon as she started working in Formula One, but the verified @kimburgessrace account she had was worth it for checking things like this. Someone had tagged her in a video.

Hearing Bob talk about @kimburgessrace like this is awful. She’s a good engineer. Would he say it if @katwaterdrives was there this week?

The video was of Adam doing a slow lap as close to the racing line as possible. The familiar radio box appeared on the side of the screen.

“Adam, you’re down ten seconds on your last lap but perfect line. Keep the pace.”

“Can I go a little faster?”

“Next lap. Stick to your lines.”

“Copy.”

It moved out to a wide shot of him taking the turns, Bob and Wallace Boden commentating.

“He’s doing really well in that VR car. Still the talented driver we always knew he was, but with a car like that he can show off,” Boden said as the roar of the V6 engine was audible down the straight.

“I’d expect him to be faster. Adam needs a firm hand as an engineer, he always did, and a woman isn’t going to be as harsh on him as he needs you to be to get the best out of him. Voight needs to get Atwater in there permanently with him.”

Bob’s words weren’t unusual, but the venom he delivered them with was worse than usual. Her twitter notifications were busy and she was trending under motorsport. Most of the reactions were in her favour, people calling out Bob’s sexism. One of the videos from Adam’s karting days had started to be shared the same way it always was when Bob was an ass. The grown man was yelling at seven year old Adam after he came third in a race. From some of the stories that Adam had told her it was a normal occurrence. No matter how many years had passed any of those videos being shared always upset Adam, especially now that it was defending Kim.

Her boyfriend hadn’t spoken to his father in over a decade. Sky were under strict instructions that if Bob was the journalist in a media pool Adam would skip them, and the two times they’d sent him in he had. The FIA fines were worth it. The man was still banned from all FIA racing thanks to his race fixing. They didn’t want anything to do with him.

The weekend was full on but she still made time for dinner that Saturday night with Sarah, Crockett, and Lolly. After seeing exactly what Bob had said and the lack of formal response to it she just needed her friends. The now four year old was clingy thanks to not seeing Kim for a week, sitting on her lap as they ate.

“Food?” Lolly asked, pointing at the chicken on Kim’s plate.

“Yup, chicken and rice. Just like on your plate, except yours has hot sauce on it.” The few words Lolly was speaking now always made the adults in the room smile. Sarah and Crockett filled Kim in on the drama at the far end of the pit lane, Roman being Roman again. He’d caused a yellow flag in the second practice after hitting a barrier. Everyone had seen Trudy stalk through the paddock like a woman on a mission so they’d given her the space she needed. But Dawson was settling in ok on the team, his sister hanging out with Sarah when she wasn’t in a meeting. There was rumours Gabby was already being looked at by a couple of other teams for next year too.

Kim took a forkful from the plate in front of her, but it was immediately obvious as soon as her lips closed around the bite that she’d chosen the wrong one. None of them travelled without hot sauce for Lolly. She was a fussy eater, but dousing food in chilli usually got her to eat something. Crockett laughed at Kim’s expression, taking Lolly from her so the woman could gulp down water. She stopped eating after that, but they talked about everything except Bob Ruzek.

When she made it back to the room Kim and Adam didn’t talk about it that night, but it was clear Adam knew how uncomfortable she was about the entire situation. Instead they held onto each other as they slept before Sunday dawned and the race would begin.

Race days were always hectic and even the bigger team with more resources had that level of chaos. Kim squeezed Adam’s fingers before she left the room, determined to keep things together for him. Instead of planning on her own she sat at the strategy briefing, watching for the way Adam was to defend for Jay. If they could get a good start and time stops right there was a chance of a double podium for the team. They could do this.

And it paid off. Jay Halstead stood on the top step of the podium, Mouse to his side accepting the constructors trophy. Adam was there to Jay’s left on the second step and Kim couldn’t be filled with more love for her boyfriend as she watched him spray champagne. The Star Spangled Banner rang around the track thanks to the win, the team celebrating with their own bottles of champagne.

Usually Kim missed the celebration parties. They were normally ragers, the young wealthy drivers buying a lot of alcohol for their friends and coworkers. But this time her team had a 1-2 win and were at the top of the constructors championship. She had to turn up and show her celebration face.

It was loud and busy, hidden in a warehouse thanks to the local laws about alcohol consumption. There was dancing and she had fun, but all she wanted to do was dance with Adam and get to kiss him on the dance floor. The dart of jealousy as she saw Matt Casey’s wife, Sylvie, kiss her husband to congratulate him on third hit her chest hard. The way she saw Evan Hawkins linking hands with his girlfriend who’d flown in for the race. It was a glamorous life. It was glitzy and stylish and filled with travel and luxury. She got to live in a millionaire’s playground in Monaco.

But the loneliness hurt. Before it was easier, Adam didn’t really go to parties so they’d spend Sunday night with their friends or watching YouTube, recovering after the week. On rare occasions they’d even fly home straight after the race to get an extra night in their own beds if they were in Europe or parts of Asia. But that wouldn’t happen with Adam and Jay on the podium and Adam expected to be at these parties now.

Instead Kim took the vodka soda that Mouse offered her, eyes that were troubled with similar thoughts staring at hers. They clinked their glasses and swallowed their drinks in one before going out to the dance floor together, holding onto each other to not get lost.

AN: For those who aren’t used to Formula One, race weekends are generally over four days. Thursday is the final set up day and press day, drivers and team principals will have press conferences those days. Friday is the first driving day, there’s two practice sessions. FP1 is in the morning, FP2 is in the afternoon (usually, if it’s a night race this can change). Saturday has FP3 in the morning, and then afterwards is qualifying. Qualifying involves three sessions - Q1 is the first eighteen minutes, and the slowest five drivers are eliminated. Q2 is the next fifteen minutes, and the following slowest drivers are eliminated. Q3 is last, and that decides what order the top ten will start in. Drivers can change their starting place based on penalties if they’ve changed their cars, used parts they shouldn’t have, or have been given a penalty as a punishment for breaking a rule. 

The FIA is the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile, who are the group who run most single seater motorsports in the world. They control F1.

The GPDA is the Grand Prix Drivers Association, which consists of the drivers who currently drive in Formula One. It’s essentially a drivers trade union. Usually all drivers are members, but they don’t have to be.

Burzek Taglist: @aruzlover @haiileyshalstead @morganupstead  @adamruz @fullwattpadmusictree @redpoodlern @everythingaddictxx @write4life13 @jeanjacketjesus @tuxieboy101-blog @thelittlepterophyllum @planecrazylex @sophiatellerrhodes @ossypooh @kimburgess-ruzek @thestarrynightslover @reidskitty13 @etamne @torreshalstead @itsnotpersonalbut @kellykidd @dedlund82 @pinkwhitebrown @mmacke3613 @upsteadlovingheart @ittybitty-tittycommittee @takemetooneverlanddd @oracle23 @thedefinitionofendgame @headlightsatmidnight @butterflylies @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @withakindheartx @bebataylor84 @whoiamwhoistrivetobe @multicouple-lover @eviehalstead212 @soupysoup @daniellexoc3 @storiesofsvu @keenmarvellover

[tnott]

luminescenc1e​:

The few snowflakes that twirled around them, disappeared upon landing on the grass. The grounds would be covered over fairly quickly and while she would have preferred avoiding the holiday season altogether and going somewhere warmer, Theo’s invitation was a somewhat unexpected surprise. They had always been friendly if not friends right away from year one, but, there were always other obstacles and things to consider within the Slytherin house. “ If you really think I should. ” She did not bother hiding the smile, one wider and far more honest than the usual smirk she allowed others to see.

 “ I guess I will simply have to suffer without the other nuisances that I would have been surrounded with. ” Playfully she nudged Theo with her shoulder before looking out towards the perfectly still surface of the lake. Her parents would not be able to object her staying at the Nott manor, since making connections has always been a top priority. “ I don’t even know what to pack, and then presents. Let’s go back to the dormitory, you have to tell me everything. Your room, the grounds, your father. I just have to know all the details. ” 

Intertwining their hands, Pansy pushed her back inside as they made their way to the dungeons. They had a lot of time before their final lesson of the day, and while Theo would almost naturally drift towards the library, Pansy simply could not allow that as she needed to know how to prepare for staying at her home. 

Pansy’s smile, one of genuine happiness rather than her usual empty smirk, warmed Theo’s heart. It was true that she and Pansy hadn’t hit it off right away upon starting at Hogwarts, but for several years now, Theo had considered Pansy to be one of her closer friends, even if Pansy hadn’t seemed to realize that. Knowing that her invitation had brightened the other girl’s holiday prospects made Theo feel like she’d won a point over Pansy’s parents.

She allowed Pansy to take her by the hand and steer her back inside without protest. She’d been planning to go to the library before their next class, but one missed study session wouldn’t hurt. She was caught up on all her Ancient Runes assignments already, after all. She could put her planned extra reading off for a day.

“You’ll love the house,” she told Pansy. “It’s cozier than Malfoy Manor, not so imposing and austere. And we have orchards, and gardens, and a few miles of stream, and there are hills where we can go sledding if you’d like. And Nell, our elf, cooks the most delicious food. Dad doesn’t really throw parties anymore, but he’ll probably let us invite a few of our classmates over for lunch one day. We could ask Draco and Blaise and Millie and Daphne and a few others if we wanted to. He’s always telling me that social connections are important. We can put you in the guestroom across the hall from my bedroom. It’s very comfortable.” A wry smile tugged at her lips, and she added, “In some ways Dad and I like two peas rattling around in that house. It was meant for more than two people. It’ll be nice to have your company over Christmas.”

[rhenuvee]

The Heart in You pt2 (Fred Weasley x reader)

Request: Could you do something along these lines? Love you soo much <3 your imagines make me happier. It would mean the world to me if you could do this!! Request: Could you write a Fred Weasley imagine where the reader is Fred's best friend but they never really show affection, they insult each other all the time and occasionally Fred flirts, teasingly. But Fred gets all nervous and goes soft when y/n is visiting their home since its so small and you know.. they're poor and stuff... thanks <3

Link to pt1: Here

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You were peacefully walking through the corridors, ready to spend a cozy Sunday afternoon being warm from the cold with your friends. It was quite surprising how little disturbance there was, as if you were in a scene in a movie. 

That is, until you heard the sudden roars of laughter, clapping, and awe. You gritted your teeth- you knew that the peace was too good to be true. You decided to change your direction, hoping that this path would bring an end to this once and for all. 

This was something you’ve been dealing with for the past week, and it’s been pissing you off. You found the source of the crowd of noise, seeing that it was coming from out in the courtyard. It was just as you expected. 

“-and then there I was, cornered! Like a poor gazelle standing out in the open!” narrated a voice you knew too well. You stood watching from a distance with your arms folded, seeing as a specific redhead told a story you almost knew by heart by now.

Just as rehearsed for the past seven days a week, you saw the same dramatic gestures by none other than Fred Weasley. His stupid chocolate brown eyes which you couldn’t bother to look at, his stupid smile which you swore he had on 24/7- Although you had to admit, something even more stupid was the first and second years genuinely interested and believing in his anecdote. 

“I almost died, but I stayed strong!” you facepalmed as he scrunched up his face way too dramatically. “She- the lion, sneaking up, ready to jump out and-”

“WEASLEY!” you yelled interrupting him, hearing enough of his crap. It seemed to scare some of the first and second years as they jumped and turned to see you.

“It’s the lion! Run!” shouted Fred. The kids yelled their lungs out and ran in all different directions all to get away from ‘the lion’. You marched your way to Fred, trudging your way towards him. You didn’t care about your shoes getting wet from the snow, all you cared about was slapping that smirk off his face.

“Yes?” he said rather casually from his spot, leaning against the wall.

“Yes? That’s all you have to say to the ferocious lion?” you asked incredulously. He chuckled.

“Actually, I do have something to say, though we may need a spell to translate between your roaring.” You scoffed at his terrible joke.

“I hate you.” 

“We know that’s a lie, love.” You rolled your eyes. You knew that the reason the story started in the first place was because of that day you asked him to the yule ball. He tricked you, and his ego was just getting bigger. 

“And what makes you think that?” you retorted.

“You’re the one who asked me to the ball, love.” he said scoffing. You mentally slapped yourself for having a question with an obvious answer. The term of endearment definitely didn’t help in trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“I was drunk.” you replied quickly. Fred in turn laughed at your quick statement, causing you to laugh a little.

“Really? Then you should get drunk more often.” 

“I think you’re drunk, gazelle.” you said poking his chest then turning to leave. Though, this didn’t stop him from hopping from his place and catching up with you.

“Am I now?” he asked pressing further.

“Yes Fred, bye.” you said as you were about to leave him and turn a corner.

“Alright, don’t miss me too much darling!” 

“Fred!”

---

“Hey (y/n)!” called someone from behind you. You stopped and turned to see George who was slowing down to stop near your spot. 

“Hey George. What’s going on?”

“Are you doing anything this holiday?” he asked.

“Hm, probably just gonna go home for the break, same as every year... why?” 

“I was wondering if you’d like to come to ours for Christmas.” Your eyes widened at his offer. You had never been to the burrow before.

“You don’t have to, but I know it would make a certain gazelle really happy.” he teased. You rolled your eyes.

“If it would make him happy, why couldn’t he ask me himself?” 

“Well riddle me this, would a gazelle purposely perch itself out in the open where any predator- ow!” You playfully punched George in the arm, seeing as the story was starting to rub on him.

“Sorry- what I meant to say was, it would also make myself, Ginny and Ron really happy. You’re our best friend (y/n)... also, mum’s been asking for you as well.” 

“Your mum? Asking about me?” you said shocked.

“You’ve been mentioned here and there.” he said casually. You bit your lip, trying to supress a smile. You were invited to the burrow, which you’ve heard only good things from Harry and Hermione. 

“Alright, I’ll send an owl to my parents and ask them.” you said. He nodded with a grin, knowing his twin would be ecstatic to hear this. 

---

Your parents were a little surprised that you were going to spend the holidays at the burrow. They’ve never met the twins, just like how Arthur and Molly only heard a few things about you. Nonetheless, they were glad to see you so happy to be with your friends. On another note, you were very very nervous. Maybe it was because of seeing the rest of the Weasley family, but also for very stupid reasons. 

“Oh (y/n), it’s so good to finally meet you dear! Come inside now!” You were welcomed by Molly herself, engulfing you in a tight and warm hug.  You smiled, instantly relieved that Molly liked you enough to hug you.

“I’ve heard so many things about you.” she said maintaining a bright smile. 

“And I’ve heard that you heard many things, all good I hope.” you said.

“Only the best.” she said swiping your cheek then turning to lead you deeper into the house. You walked in, and your eyes couldn’t help put to move left and right. 

“(Y/n)!” You then saw Ginny appear, running as fast as she could down the stairs, then jumping and hugging you just like her mother did. You both squealed in excitement. 

“Hey idiots! Your favourite person is here!” Ginny yelled calling for the twins. 

“Ginny!” scolded Molly with her arms crossed. You giggled. You watched as the two tall figures stepped down to where you were.

“Well look who it is.” George said smirking and leaning in for a hug. Once you pulled away, you saw Fred, but you couldn’t help but notice something was weird about him.

“Hi.” he said curtly, but with a small smile. 

“Hey...?” you greeted, letting your confusion be slightly present. He also went in for a hug, though it was a lot lighter than the ones you’ve received so far.

“Do you want any food?” asked Fred. 

“Um sure.” you shrugged. You thought it was a little strange that Fred was being so ‘nice’ to you. I mean, like George said, would a gazelle let itself stand in the open and offer food for a predator? But you decided to brush the thought off, besides, you really ought to get that dumb story out of your head.

The first evening with the Weasley’s went well. You were able to meet the rest of the family as well as Harry and Hermione which you realized later that they were here. Molly’s cooking was delicious, and you were glad to be apart of the holiday gathering. You were glad that everyone was willing to welcome you, despite being new to the burrow. 

It wasn’t until a couple hours after dinner, when it was late and you spotted Fred and George sitting on the couch, fiddling with what you expected was some of their future joke shop products.

“Hey.” you said heading over to sit with them. George smiled, then quickly jumped up to leave.

“I gotta go to the bathroom. See ya!” he said a bit too joyfully. I mean- tis the season, but one could not be that excited to go to the bathroom. You then scooched closer to Fred, and he noticed with a small grin. 

“Hey you.” he said bringing his lanky arm to wrap around you and bring you even closer. You blushed at the extremely close proximity between you two, but if you were being honest, you didn’t mind one bit. This was secretly what you wanted, right?

You remembered the day you asked Fred to the yule ball quite clearly. After that incident, he was a huge ball of chaos and energy. You remember him skipping down halls, and how you had to chase him to shut up when he started the gazelle story.

And when the night of the ball finally arrived, you were a big bundle of nerves- and Fred was being a cocky little shit as usual... but aside from that, there were things he did that made you have the most fun you’ve ever had in your life. You didn’t forget how much he made you laugh and smile that night. 

And now, you let the thought of his silence creep over again. He spoke and cracked jokes during dinner, but he was still quieter than you’ve experienced. You sat in the same silence as he seemed to be fixing a product.

“Fred...?” you said looking at him, a little surprised that your faces were closer than you expected. 

“Hm?” 

“Uh, are you okay?” you asked. You tried to ask it in the most subtle way possible. He only looked at you with an unreadable expression. The weirdest thing being that he had no witty comeback, or any line to start your typical banter. 

“Yeah.” he said giving a closed mouthed smile again, then looking back at the joke products. Jeez, why did boys have to be so hard to read? To you at least. 

“I just, ‘m surprised you accepted when George invited you here.” he muttered, but you heard it loud and clear. 

“And why would you be surprised?” You didn’t know what to feel. His head pointed downwards- suddenly this moment felt really familiar. You were a bit skeptical if you were being truthful. After a long pause, he suddenly chuckled awkwardly to himself and sat up, leaned back until his head was tilted back on the top edge of the couch.

“I’m mad for you.” he said shifting himself so that his head was still tilted back but facing you. All your jumbling thoughts couldn’t force itself out of your mouth. You just sat there, your eyes bulging out of your head, and mouth in an o shape.

“W-what?” you managed to say. Now you were very very skeptical of what was to happen. You do not want to be tricked by him again, and leave you a blushing mess. 

“I’m mad for you- do you need me to spell it out?” he asked. With the dim lighting you couldn’t see the slight flush of red on his cheeks. He brought his hand to cover his eyes, still showing his lips which were curved up in a flustered smile. 

“I- are you being serious?” you asked in confirmation. 

“Am I- yes I am (y/n), I’m mad for you. I said it three times, now you gotta believe me.” he said taking away the hand covering his face. You didn’t even try to hide the pink tinting your face. You shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“You still don’t believe me do you.” he deadpanned. You didn’t answer to that. He chuckled, already knowing your answer. In one swift motion, he cupped your cheek with his hand and brought you in closer for a kiss. You closed your eyes as his lips pressed against and moved in sync with yours. 

You moved so that you were able to put both your hands on his shoulders to bring him closer. You could feel the hum from his lips when he heard you let out a little noise. Both of you were speechless blushing messes once you pulled away with the ‘smooch’ sound.

“Believe me now?” he said in almost a whisper. You nodded frantically, earning a smirk from Fred, as well as a beckoning gesture to ask you to cuddle next to him. You followed, snuggling up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

...

“I always knew you had a heart in you.” 

...

“Excuse me?” 

You tried burying your head further inwards, as you attempted to stifle your giggles about to erupt. Yes, you really did just pull that card on Fred Weasley.

“What did you just say?” asked Fred ducking his head to your level, trying to get a glimpse of what he hoped did not just come out of your mouth. 

“Nothing!”

“You did not say nothing, princess.” he said trying to pry your hands clutching your face as you finally gave in and let out your laughter. You made the split second decision to bolt out of the living room and into the dining room to run away. Fred of course had no problem running after you. 

You were both giggly as heck as you both circled the dining table, which happened to be the only thing protecting you.

“Take it back!’

“No!”

And once you said that, he made a dash for the tight corner and was able to capture you from behind. You squirmed with your legs kicking out as he held you tightly and swung you in a circle.

“Take it back!” he said in your ear.

“I won’t! This is what you get Weasley.” 

“What I get? For what?”

“For...-” You realized then that if you said the reason, he would know that he was the reason you got flustered in the first place.

“What? Am I too handsome for you?” he asked as he placed you down, but still pinned you to the counter. 

“In your dreams!”

“And in real life too.” 

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” you huffed crossing your arms. However, your attempt at trying not to smile failed horribly when you turned your head away from him.

“That means I won, princess.” he said smirking and tilting your head back to face him.

“Oh shut up Fred, you-”

“Make me shut up-”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” You and Fred both jumped when you saw George and Ginny intrude. And worse, when you were both getting riled up at each other. 

“There will be no ‘make me shut up’ in this house.” said George mockingly as Ginny stood next to him laughing. You deadpanned at Ginny clearly not helping the situation.

“You’re not going to encourage them? It’s about time.” said Ginny.

“Gin, if you knew me, you’d know that I’m not even surprised.” replied George sarcastically.

“Oh sod off, both of you. Bein’ two creeps.” said Fred shooing them away. George and Ginny gave each other a knowing look and did as told. Fred then immediately turned back to focusing on you.

“So, what were you thinking on making me shut up?”

[lovely-ateez]

Cold Ice & Warm Hearts~

ꕥPosted: 12/24/20

ꕥGenre: College!au, Christmas Imagine, Fluff

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x Jongho

ꕥWord Count: 1.8k

ꕥWarnings: None

ꕥA/N: I’ve been watching a shit ton of ice skating videos lately so this is the result lol

Ice skating was my favorite part of the holiday season without a doubt. I was always able to skate more around December since I had a month off from college, which was fantastic. Not to mention that more people would skate than usual, meaning the more people I could teach to skate, feeling pride swell in my chest as I saw them improve.

I was recently gifted a pair of beautiful white ice skates by one of my friends as an early Christmas present. Although the holiday was right around the corner, she said she just couldn’t wait to give them to me, knowing how much I needed new skates.

“You’re completely wearing out your old ones,” She told me, “These will treat you much better.”

Although I very much loved my old pair, I had to admit she had a point. The laces were tearing and the soles were wearing down, making it very difficult to skate without having to stop and adjust them every few seconds.

Tonight I was walking to the outdoor skating rink only a few blocks from my apartment. I lived in a relatively busy city so I expected many people to be there, but I never minded that. It made me happy to see so many enjoying it.

As I walked with my ice skates, my mind wandered. It had been a few months since I last skated and I had been dying to get back. I was slightly nervous; however. I always was if I hadn’t skated in a while. Part of me worried that I would fall as often as I did when I began or forget how to skate all together.

I sat on the benches next to the rink to put my skates on when a deep, attractive laugh caught my attention. I turned my head to the right of the rink, observing the young man it came from. He was about average height and had one of the most endearing smiles I had ever seen. His dark brown hair swayed in the wind as he slightly picked up speed. His long, tan jacket looked warm and for a brief moment I had to refrain myself from thinking about how it would feel to cuddle up next to him.

He was surrounded by four other men, some obviously more skilled than others, but he, himself, wasn’t bad at all. He could skate relatively well and I wondered if he grew up skating like I did. Or maybe he was a natural talent?

His build was strong. I could tell that even with the several layers he was wearing. He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, to say the least.

One of the men near him stumbled and fell, the others laughing while the man wearing the tan jacket helped him up, a slight smile on his face but still expressing concern.

He seems kind.

I shook myself from my thoughts and tied the soft white laces of my skates. There were more people on the rink than I expected and it made me smile. Maybe some would find passion in it like I did.

I stepped out on the ice and made several strides, feeling silly for being nervous before. Ice skating was so ingrained in me that I had no reason to be. I moved to the rhythm of the Christmas music playing overhead and felt the world fading away. My worries, fears, stressors—all of it—melted from me as I made laps around the rink, occasionally adding a spin or two.

I was only slightly aware of the people looking in my direction and the gasps in awe being directed towards me. Because honestly, it didn’t matter. I never cared much for the compliments. Sure they were nice, but I skated for myself. To improve myself, not to impress others. Although, perhaps tonight I had a  motive to impress a certain man. Only perhaps.

I slowed down to look at the sky above me. The lights surrounding the rink only a slight distraction from the twinkling stars.

How gorgeous.

Smiling to myself I leisurely spun around, eyes still locked on the sky. I didn’t need to constantly look at the ice to keep my balance. It took some practice, but it became second nature to keep my balance no matter where I was looking.

“Miss?”

The slight disappointment I had from being interrupted only lasted for a few seconds until I saw the man I had been admiring in front of me. I blinked a few times, his handsome features up close catching me off guard.

“Yes?”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where did you learn to skate like that?”

A wide smile spread across my face at his question, “I grew up skating. I practiced nearly every weekend.”

He nodded, “That’s impressive. Think you could teach me?”

“Teach you what exactly? You seem to have a good grasp on skating already.”

He chuckled and looked down, confidence faltering for only a moment, his gummy smile emerging, “Okay if I’m being honest, that was my best attempt to ask if you’d like to skate with me.”

I raised a brow and looked over to his friends who were giggling in our direction until they were caught off guard by my gaze, quickly averting their eyes.

“Do your friends have anything to do with this?”

“I mean, I suppose a little. I wanted to approach you so they encouraged me. It wasn’t a dare or anything like that if you were wondering.”

“That’s cute of them.” I cocked my head for a moment, “I don’t mind, but are you sure you can keep up? I can’t promise I’ll slow down for you.”

“I can certainly try.”

I nodded and skated off, not waiting for him to join by my side, but knowing he would, and he eventually did.

“So,” I began, “May I have your name?”

“That would probably be useful information, yes.” He laughed, “I’m Jongho. What’s yours?”

I introduced myself and he nodded, a slight smile still on his face.

“You’re really attractive, you know that?”

He flushed, “Wow. Are you always this blunt?”

“Usually,” I shrugged.

“I admire that. I am too, most of the time.”

“Yeah?” I skated slightly ahead of him, turning around and skating backwards, still facing him, “You give off the vibe that you would be.”

His eyes became playful, “What other vibes do I give off?”

“Hmm. You look strong, so maybe you work in construction? Or some other profession that requires physical strength,” I raised my hand to my chin, “Also, I feel like you play an instrument. Maybe you sing? Either way I think you’re musically inclined.”

“You’re wrong with the profession. I’m a college student but I’m on a dance team so it requires strength. Plus I just like working out. You were right about the singing, though. It’s a hobby of mine.”

Jongho once again smiled, but it quickly disappeared and his eyes widened. He reached out towards me grabbing my arms and pulling me close.

“What are you-”

A little girl skated past us at a fast speed, right where I had been before.

My heart was racing, almost to the point of not being able to form words, but I had to thank him, “Oh my gosh thank you.”

“Hey it’s no problem.”

I noticed how close we were, my hands placed on his chest with his arms locked on my back. All at once I felt as if my breath had been taken from me as I looked into his dark eyes. I felt myself being drawn to him, unknowingly leaning in closer.

And then he let me go, skating away from me, “Are you gonna catch up?”

I brought my hands to my cheeks, feeling their heat before shaking it off and skating next to him.

Jongho looked in my direction when I reached his side, “Your cheeks are awfully pink, darling. Are you feeling cold?”

His cocky voice and the pet name caught me off guard and I looked anywhere but him, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Oh don’t get shy now. What happened to the blunt and confident girl I met earlier?”

“She’s blushing right now. And feeling nervous because she thought you were going to kiss her.”

He titled his head, “Did she want that happen?”

“She might have...” I bit my bottom lip and nodded, “She did.”

“Well you’ve gotta take me out to dinner first.” He laughed, “But, I might make an exception for you. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

I noticed he stopped skating and I stopped as well, curious as to what he might want.

“I want to go on a date with you.”

I narrowed my eyes, “You aren’t a player, are you?”

“No, not at all!” Jongho raised his hands in defense, “I just think you’re really beautiful and I’d like to get to know you better.”

I giggled at the compliment, feeling shy, “In that case, I agree to all terms and conditions.”

“Come here, then.”

I skated slightly closer to him, placing my hands on his warm cheeks as I felt his hands rest on my hips.

“I haven’t kissed anyone in a hot minute.” I confessed.

“That makes two of us,” Were his last words as he placed his lips on mine. His lips felt so warm and inviting and only until that moment did I realize how badly I had wanted to kiss him. I pulled him closer to me and kissed him harder, leaving me breathless. Too soon we pulled apart, eyes finding the other’s.

Jongho’s gummy smile appeared and I felt my heart skip. The cheer of several men brought me back to my surroundings.

“Yeah,” Jongho rubbed his neck, looking in their direction, “They’re a bit crazy but you get used to them.”

“I’d like to.”

His eyes warmed and he took my by the hand, “So when are you free? I know a great restaurant that just opened up a week ago. We’ll have to hurry though, Christmas is right around the corner and I’m sure we won’t be able to get in for the next few days.”

“Oh yeah? How about this Friday?”

“Perfect.”

“What’s your favorite flower?”

I furrowed my brows, “Why?”

“Well if you think that I’m going to show up at your place without bringing you flowers, you’re sadly mistaken.”

I bit my lip again and looked down at the ice, “I tend to like peonys.”

“Noted.”

We exchanged numbers and said goodbye far too early for my liking, but his friends began to complain about being hungry, and he caved.

Watching Jongho walk away I decided to head back home. Originally I planned on skating for a while after, but I couldn't seem to concentrate with all the butterflies in my stomach.

Not even halfway back to my apartment I received a text from Jongho, making me smile. 

‘Don’t forget our date!’ He wrote.

‘I’ll be looking forward to it :)’

The butterflies in my stomach returned. Feeling childish with these new emotions, I skipped the rest of the way home with a smile on my face. All but holding my breath for the next time I would see him.

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back, and...ahhhh, my babiiiiies. *dissolves into a pile of happy goo*

The Winter Festival presented in Royaume is most strongly related to the celebrations for Saint Nicholas in French provinces such as Lorraine, which are held on December 6th and include lots of music and a parade led by Saint Nicholas (or Pere Noel, as he’s also called), the French alternative to Father Christmas and Santa Claus. Florence’s holiday likewise resembles Italy’s Feast Day, which is hosted on December 8th. 

Back in the olden days, dancing wasn’t just done for fun -- it was considered a standard form of socializing. Prior to the 19th century, it was far more common for Europeans to dance in large groups that then switched partners frequently, as opposed to being locked onto a specific partner, and this applies to both formal gatherings and more informal ones. Strict pair dancing really came more in vogue in the early 1800′s with the German waltz, so during the Renaissance, one could expect to see a lot more swapping of partners at parties than one generally sees in the modern era. There were couple dances at that time, of course, such as the lavolta -- they just weren’t as popular as dances like the waltz became at formal gatherings later on. Country dancing, or dances performed at informal gatherings, was generally seen as more lighthearted and easy for people to join in without being expert at it, while court dances, which were generally saved for more formal events, were much more performative and choreographed.

Carewyn’s dress in this sketch was strongly based off of this absolutely gorgeous dress, which was inspired by real Renaissance artwork.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

With the arrival of winter, Carewyn found herself busier than ever. The King and Queen of Royaume had ordered that the palace be fully furnished with holiday cheer, so Carewyn and the rest of the staff soon had their hands full, putting gold-trimmed garlands around every banister and decking every hall with holly and ivy. Carewyn wondered how in the world the King and Queen could afford such finery when they still couldn’t seem to scrounge up enough funds to have the proper tools and supplies in stock for their staff, let alone to give them proper food rations -- but from what Bill and Charlie told her, this wasn’t too uncommon.

“It’s like this every year,” said Charlie, sounding very surly. “The royals and the court always pig out on the most sumptuous feasts, and then we have to pay for it after the fact. Just you wait until New Year’s -- the Queen always likes hosting a huge masked ball to ‘start the new year off right’ and the nobles end up leaving the worst messes behind...”

Bill sighed. “I don’t think it’s all selfishness on their part, really. I think it’s to try to lift the Prince’s spirits, more than anything. You know he isn’t allowed to leave the castle grounds...and I’m sure he no doubt hears all about the Winter Festival and all the other celebrations in town around this time of year, from the staff. The holiday season can’t be that much fun, when you’re forced to sit and watch from the sidelines...”

Andre did indeed seem to be in a forlorn mood. Whenever Carewyn caught sight of him walking through the palace gardens with her cousin Iris, he seemed to always be looking away, off into the distance, while Iris tried to engage him in conversation. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel sorry for him -- as much as his parents clearly were spending beyond their means, it seemed to be largely so that they could try to shield him from the War going on outside. It wasn’t a good decision, Carewyn thought, but a slightly understandable one...and more importantly, Andre himself had no hand in either the staff’s struggles or his own captivity.

One day Carewyn was polishing the floors in one of the guest suite, singing the song Orion had given her for the second time that day, when the partially ajar door was very quickly shoved open. Carewyn looked up just in time to see a ruffle of bed curtains, as if someone had leapt onto the guest bed and drawn the curtains so that they were hidden from view.

Carewyn opened her mouth, ready to ask who was there, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice echoing down the hallway outside.

“Your Highness?”

Iris?

Carewyn frowned deeply. She heard heels clapping down the hall, and sure enough, her brown-haired, slender cousin came into view through the open door.

Iris caught sight of Carewyn inside the guest suite, and her confused expression instantly turned ugly.

“Have you seen the Prince?” she demanded.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows innocently. “No.”

“Well, if you do, tell him that Lady Iris is looking for him,” said Iris waspishly. “And see that you don’t speak to him either.”

“I don’t quite know how I can tell his Highness that you’re looking for him, if I’m not allowed to speak to him,” said Carewyn rather coolly.

“You know full well what I mean,” Iris snarled under her breath.

Eying the almost completely polished floor, she rather pointedly strode right through the part Carewyn had just finished cleaning, dragging her heels to leave long, streaking footprints through it.

“Prince Henri might like using you as his little dress-up doll, but don’t think it means he actually likes you,” she whispered coldly. “Why would a prince ever be interested in a servant girl with no dowry or prospects?”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon the streaks on the floor before flitting up onto Iris’s face with a very stony look. She was very tempted to remind Iris that she had no interest in kissing up to the richest man that would have her, and that a man and a woman didn’t have to be romantically interested in each other to engage in conversation...but, honestly, she didn’t see much point. She wouldn’t be able to soothe Iris’s jealousy no matter what she said, and Carewyn quite frankly liked the thought of Iris leaving far more than to try to make her feel better.

Satisfied that she’d gotten the last word, Iris picked up the skirts of her lavender brocade gown and strode quickly from the room and down the hall in search of Andre.

Carewyn remained on the floor for a moment, waiting for the sound of her cousin’s footsteps to fade away. Then she slowly rose to her feet, walked over to the door, and closed it, before she got back down on her hands and knees so she could start cleaning the part of the floor Iris had slid her feet through.

“Andre?” whispered Carewyn without looking up. “Is that you, hiding in there?”

There was a rustle. Then the bed curtains parted, to reveal Andre sitting on his knees on the bed.

“You knew it was me?” he murmured.

“I thought it might be,” said Carewyn, offering him a small gentle smile even though she didn’t fully look up from her work.

Andre looked almost guilty. “...Thank you for covering for me, Carewyn. I don’t mean to insult your cousin, I just...need some space.”

“It’s all right. It can be draining, not to have any time to yourself, even when you are around people you like. And really, I didn’t lie -- I hadn’t seen you, however much I thought I might know where you were,” she added with a wry smile.

Andre tried to smile, but it came out rather forced and faded very quickly. He glanced from Carewyn to the closed door and back.

“...Does she always talk to you like that? Iris?”

Carewyn paused in the work and looked up. Andre’s face was twisted in a very troubled frown.

The maidservant returned her focus to the floor so as not to look at him, scrubbing at a particularly dirty streak.

“Not always,” she said mildly.

Sometimes she says worse things.

Andre’s eyes narrowed slightly, becoming sadder still. “Carewyn...I had no idea. I mean, I understand your mother was estranged from your family and your father skipped town, but...Iris is your cousin. Even if she’s nobility and you’re not, the way you talked about your family, I thought...”

He trailed off. He felt incredibly foolish, for not having questioned whether Iris and Carewyn’s relationship was really that good. KC had even complained about her mother trying to matchmake her with Carewyn’s cousin, Arsen Dupont, hadn’t she? Did that mean that all of Carewyn’s family talked to her the way Iris did?

Carewyn, however, was very stoic in her response. “Please don’t judge Iris based on how she speaks to me, Andre.”

Grandfather would be furious if I were the reason Iris didn’t marry Andre. The only reason that Iris and Andre shouldn’t marry should be Iris herself, and her own stupidity.

“Good people don’t have to get along with everyone, not even their own family. The way Iris speaks to me is just as much my own doing as it is hers -- and truly, her words are just words. They don’t injure me. If you enjoy her company, then you mustn’t judge her too harshly for something like this.”

Judge her harshly for other reasons.

Andre didn’t look very comforted. He adjusted himself on the bed so that he was sitting on the edge with his feet on the floor.

“...To be honest...I don’t really enjoy it that much,” he muttered.

Carewyn looked up again.

“She’s amiable enough, I suppose,” said Andre uncomfortably, “but...well, I was curious to meet her because it sounded like she enjoyed fashion and might have some good ideas for me to try out. And she had a few -- I mean, I still don’t think ash gray suits you at all...but I ended up finding a rather nice shiny pewter fabric for your shoes, and -- well, you’ll see it when they’re done. I think you’ll like them. But even with that...it just feels like, a lot of the time, she’s only saying what she thinks I want to hear, rather than what she really thinks! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike flattery -- but I already get that all the time at court. Especially around this time of year...”

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders dropping as he rested his arms in his lap.

“I have plenty of servants and subjects and...well, people who only want to be around me for my crown,” he said dejectedly. “I guess all I was really hoping for was...”

“A friend.”

Andre looked up at Carewyn in surprise. She’d put down her rag on the edge of her bucket, her eyes full to the brim with compassion.

Within seconds, the Prince’s face had burst into a delighted, relieved expression.

“Yes! Oh, I’m so glad you understand, Carewyn. Erika always says I shouldn’t complain so much...and I know she’s right -- I have a lot to be grateful for. It’s just...”

“You can have a lot to be grateful for and still be missing what you need,” said Carewyn very primly. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more or be more. It’s how you express that feeling that matters.”

Andre cocked his eyebrows curiously. “Express it?”

Unable to meet the Prince’s eye straight-on, Carewyn fixed her ponytail so that some of the hair coming out of it was restrained again.

“Well...to Lady Rath’s point, complaining about a problem, or wishing it would go away, never really solved anything. My mother used to say that ‘dreamers never make a dream come true’ -- if you want something to happen, then you need to act on it, not just sit around and wish that things might change.”

That’s why I can’t just sit back and wait for the War to end so Jacob can come home. If he’s out there on the battlefield, in pain and alone, I need to find out where and figure out some way to reach him.

Andre considered this for a long moment. At last his face split into a huge, blazing white smile.

“You’re right! You’re absolutely right, Carewyn...”

He leapt off the bed, bent down to get down on Carewyn’s level, and grabbed both of her shoulders.

“Will you go to the Winter Festival with me?”

Carewyn was taken aback. “What?”

“I’ve never been, not even once, even though I’ve always wanted to,” said Andre, his eyes bright with excitement. “Of course we’d probably have to be sneaky about it...but the courtiers will be plenty occupied all night here, with Mother’s ball. There are plenty of times I’ve been able to sneak out of the ballroom and no one’s ever found me, even when they were actively looking. I have the perfect purple brocade doublet I could wear...and I’m sure your new shoes will be stunning with the dark blue velvet gown I made for you...”

“Andre,” said Carewyn, a bit taken aback by his enthusiasm, “hold on. Brocade and velvet...those are hardly things to wear outside the palace, if you don’t want to be noticed.”

Andre blinked. “They’re not?”

“No,” Carewyn said very firmly, her eyes narrowing reproachfully as she slid out of his grip. “Only people of status and wealth wear those materials. People in town wear cottons, linens -- wool -- and they’re far simpler than even the uniform I’m wearing right now. You and I would stick out like sore thumbs, especially since all of the nobility will be at the Queen’s Ball. I doubt we’d last more than five minutes in town before we got caught.”

Andre deflated visibly.

“...I see,” he said, disappointed. “If only I’d thought of this sooner...I could probably have made us something else, if the Festival wasn’t the day after tomorrow...”

Carewyn bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t love the thought of going against the King and Queen’s wishes, and of course spending time with Andre was uncomfortable considering she was supposed to stay out of Iris’s way, but...well, she agreed with Bill. It had to feel pretty rotten, to be stuck on the sidelines, watching everyone else have fun and longing to join in, during the holidays. Carewyn had never really gone to the Winter Festival as a kid since her mother didn’t like large crowds and she’d preferred spending quiet time at home with her and Jacob...but Andre clearly wanted to go to the Festival so badly...

“...I could...always go pick something up, in town,” Carewyn said slowly, her eyes lingering on Andre’s shoulder rather than his face. “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend at the castle gate around noon...I could always convince him to walk with me to look for some festival clothes for both of us. Then you could always tailor what I bring back, in case it doesn’t fit correctly...”

Andre looked like Carewyn had just presented him with a unicorn for a Christmas present.

“Oh, Carewyn...you’re absolutely brilliant, that’s what you are! Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of money -- buy whatever you think is best -- ”

And that was how Carewyn got roped into going to the Winter Festival. But really, she knew she couldn’t in good conscience let Andre sneak out on his own...and despite herself, her heart was much too gentle for her to even think of trying to tell him not to go, however much trouble she knew both of them would be in if they got caught.

All the more reason to make sure we don’t, she told herself.

When she met Orion at the gate that day, she told him she had some shopping to do before the Festival. Orion had quirked an eyebrow when she had him hold up several peasant-worthy outfits over himself so Carewyn could examine them, but Carewyn refused to tell him who she was shopping for, merely that he was around Orion’s height.

“Can I take this to mean you’ll be attending the Festival after all, my lady?” Orion asked, his eyes trailing over her face with some interest. “I believe you told Ginny Weasley that you’d be too busy.”

Carewyn avoided his eye as she took the outfit he was holding from him and placed both it and a forest green and white dress she’d found on the counter so she could pay.

“I am -- but I’ve opened some time in my schedule for it all the same, at least in the evening.”

Something flickered in the back of Orion’s eyes. Was it curiosity, or was it disappointment? “The gentleman you’re shopping for must be someone special, for you to reschedule your plans.”

Carewyn couldn’t fight back a proud huff. “He’s special only in the way that he needs help, and I’m the person who can give it.”

She took the clothes from the cashier and started heading out of the shop. Orion followed along behind, his black eyes running over her face even while she refused to look at him and narrowing ever-so-slightly.

“...I see.”

Andre was pleasantly surprised by what Carewyn had brought back for them. Although yes, they were made of far less expensive fabrics than he was used to and lacked decoration, he was very pleased with the colors. He’d mentioned having a purple doublet before, so he wasn’t surprised she picked that color of tunic for him, but he was very happy when she picked out some very handsome emerald green trousers trimmed with gold embroidery to go with them, as well as some tall black leather boots with gold buckles. Andre hadn’t really put purple and green together much before, but he really liked how the shades looked together. Carewyn’s dress, however, he did make one large alteration to besides just the fit -- adding a rather pretty trim to the front and back of bodice and the bottom of the skirt made of thick silvery linen ribbon. (He claimed that it was to help the dress better blend with her new pewter gray silk slippers, but Carewyn also just suspected he couldn’t help himself, seeing how plain the dress she’d gotten was.)

The night of the Festival, Andre went down to the Queen’s Winter Ball. After going through the motions for a half hour or so to throw off suspicion, Andre slipped away, and -- after quickly changing into his peasant clothes -- met Carewyn by the gate of the palace. When he got there, he found Bill, Charlie, and their little sister Ginny waiting just across the street, ever so “casually” looking away from the castle wall as Carewyn carefully opened the gate and she and Andre slipped out. Once the gate was closed, the three Weasleys swooped down on Carewyn and Andre, Charlie grabbing Andre’s arm and Ginny grabbing Carewyn’s, and the group flooded into town to meet up with the rest of the Weasley clan.

From the moment they arrived, Andre looked happier and more laid-back that Carewyn had ever seen him. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel like just walking around the Festival, surrounded by ordinary people who had no idea who he really was, made this the best day of the young Prince’s life...and she had to admit, as much as she could take or leave parties, his enthusiasm was infectious. When Ginny suggested they go dance, Andre was absolutely thrilled at the thought of learning how to do a country dance, and pressured Carewyn to show him how. Carewyn hardly thought herself the best choice for this, but found it difficult to say no, seeing how excited he was. Once Carewyn, Charlie, Andre, and Ginny jumped into the fray, though, she did find herself having fun. The steps were actually pretty easy to follow along to, especially compared to the sorts of court dances she’d always seen her older cousins practicing at the Cromwell estate, before any private balls they were invited to.

It didn’t take long, though, for someone to spot Andre. In the middle of one of their dances, a hand came from out of nowhere and snatched a hold of the back of the Prince’s purple tunic, pulling him back out of line.

“Hey!” yelped Andre. “What are you -- ?!”

He looked up, to see the rather tall and foreboding frame of his fencing instructor.

Andre gave a very weak smile. “Aha...hi, Erika.”

Erika’s expression was very stony. Carewyn, Charlie, and Ginny immediately hopped out of line and over to them. Standing right behind Erika and dressed in a sapphire blue cloak that obscured her elegantly trimmed linen dress was KC.

“Lady Rath!” said Charlie with his best attempt at a winning smile. “KC! What a nice...surprise! Heh...”

KC raised her eyebrows coolly. “Hello, Charlie...Carewyn.”

Bill had rushed over too, sensing trouble.

“It’s not their fault, KC,” said Andre quickly, “I can explain -- ”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said KC, her arms crossing as she looked at Andre. “We know full well it isn’t their fault.”

“I say it is,” said Erika rather bluntly, her eyes flashing dangerously at Carewyn and the Weasleys, “considering they encouraged it.”

“It isn’t their fault because they wouldn’t have felt able to say ‘no’ to the Crown Prince of Royaume, even if they’d wanted to,” KC pointed out logically.

Andre suddenly looked very guilty. He glanced from the Weasleys to Carewyn, almost silently asking if he’d pressured them into any of this. Charlie, in response, spoke rather forcefully.

“Well, frankly, we did want to! Andre deserves a fun holiday, for once. Reckon it’s a helluva lot better than that stuffy old ball going on up there.”

He jabbed a thumb behind him in the direction of the palace.

“The Prince’s safety is more important than a fun holiday,” Erika shot back coldly, “as are the King and Queen’s orders. You’d do well to remember that, Weasley.”

“Erika, please,” said Andre desperately. “No one from Florence would dare come this far west of the border...and even if they did, none of them would recognize me, dressed like this. And you said it yourself, KC, it’s likely they won’t attack our forces anyway until after the 8th -- that’s when their winter holiday is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” granted KC with a frown. Her voice became much more thoughtful as she added, “Though if they wanted to be really clever, they’d strike on or the morning immediately after a holiday, when everyone’s got their guard down...”

Carewyn faced Erika with as much conviction as she could, even though she was completely eclipsed by the taller and stronger woman’s shadow.

“I realize the Prince’s safety is important,” she said in a very low voice, so as not to be overheard, “but if there truly was anyone who meant to target him, wouldn’t they be more likely to look for him at the Winter Ball, rather than here among the peasantry? And considering that the palace is only about five blocks away from here and he’s in the company in one of the castle’s most capable guards,” she nodded in Bill’s direction, “and both his combat instructor and our army’s chief military strategist...I’d say that he’s quite well protected.”

Erika gave Carewyn a beady look.

“People say you’re nothing like your family, Cromwell,” she said rudely, “but I think they’re full of it. You’re just as pretentious and fawning as the rest of them.”

She nonetheless released the back of Andre’s collar.

“I’ll stay for two hours only,” she muttered to him sourly. “When I go, you go.”

Andre beamed from ear to ear.

KC and Erika weren’t much for dancing, but they did loosen up in time, while sitting with the rest of the Weasleys and enjoying some of the fresh sugar-dusted crepes, mince pies, cocoa, and coffee. Before long as well, Andre had mastered the art of the country dance. Ginny was thrilled to have someone else who was just as excited to dance as she was, and -- bless her heart -- the twelve-year-old treated Andre with the same amount of cheer and respect as she probably would’ve anyone else, just like her brothers did. She even ended up giving Andre pointers about how to do the dances better. Carewyn soon found herself getting pretty tired, but Ginny, Charlie, and Andre all kept pulling her back into line with them, and she bit back her exhaustion if only to see them smiling a little longer. It had been a really long time since she’d been able to make anyone smile like that, while doing so little -- it made herself feel that little bit better about herself, and made her stand just that little bit taller.

While dancing to a particular song, the woman playing the fiddle sped up very abruptly, changing tempo. Soon everyone was rotating in chaotic, joyful circles, switching partners constantly. As to be expected in country dancing, a few people made mistakes that they had to correct, but nobody really cared. One mistake, though, was Carewyn losing her footing and tripping over her skirt. The new gray silk shoes Andre had made for her, as lovely and comfortable as they were, were more like slippers than any proper outdoor footwear and didn’t have great traction, so she would’ve fallen right off her feet if someone hadn’t suddenly appeared behind her and caught her with an arm gently looped around her back.

It was Orion. He was dressed in clothes that were nicer than usual, but still modest, including some brown suede boots and a handsome forest green doublet that ended up being the same shade as Carewyn’s dress, though he still lacked the high-collared undershirt one would usually see from a nobleman.

“Forgive me for catching you twice, my lady,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Carewyn couldn’t help but smile. “At least you weren’t hurt after throwing yourself under me this time -- ”

They couldn’t continue the conversation, though, without getting locked up in the midst of the group dance. Carewyn was forced to twirl in sequence, just to avoid another pair moving on through.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Orion suddenly looked oddly wary, like a foal learning how to walk.

“I’m afraid I’ve never done this before,” he murmured, just barely dodging another pair of dancers.

Following the sequence, Carewyn rested an arm lightly around Orion’s waist, steering him in a circle.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as she offered him an encouraging smile. “It’s only a pattern...no one will complain if you make a mistake. Follow me.”

His face betraying some hesitance, Orion nonetheless found himself letting go, mirroring Carewyn in stylized turns and spirals through the dancing crowd.

Orion had come to the Festival because he’d guessed that the mysterious “guest” Carewyn was shopping for was -- in fact -- the Prince of Royaume, and thus this would be the perfect opportunity for Orion to meet him and get a better fix on his character. But even with this goal in his mind, he’d found his inner balance oddly disturbed, when he caught sight of Carewyn. She’d always been a rather pretty woman, but in the company of her friends -- smiling with such pure, undiluted happiness, at the sight of how happy they were -- her blue eyes sparkling with such soft emotion, every time they laughed -- her ginger hair flying free as a flag behind her as she twirled around them...it distracted him. It was an unwelcome distraction, one he was quick to scold himself for, before trying to relocate his center and return to the task at hand. And yet, when Carewyn lost her footing, he found himself once again throwing away his own internal balance and laser-pointed focus in favor of turbulent, emotional chaos...and soon they were dancing, and Orion found himself surfing in that chaos -- relishing that wild, but liberating warmth he felt coming off of her. Was it some magical aura she had, that made him feel like he was dancing with a blazing, soothing fire even as the snow began to fall overhead?

Carewyn Cromwell truly was a remarkable woman, to divert the Prince of Florence’s focus away from his one and only goal...and yet, as Orion danced with her, he couldn’t help but think...oh, if their world could be but a world where they could dance like this anywhere...even in Florence, where everyone knew his face...

When the dance came to an end, everyone clapped, and Carewyn and Orion moved off to the side together to sit with Bill, Ron, KC, and Erika. Erika was very suspicious of Orion from the off-set, finding him way too “pleasant” for her tastes, but Orion wasn’t the least bit offended. If anything, he said with a wry smile, her aggressive aura in some ways reminded him of a good friend of his. After several more rounds, Andre, Charlie, and Ginny finally came to sit down with the others for a quick break.

“Whew! I’m parched,” said Andre. He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Here,” said Bill.

He offered the Prince a stein of apple cider. Andre gulped down about half of it before lowering the stein, his mouth stretched into a broad smile.

“Oh, Carewyn, thank you for this,” he said, reaching out a hand to squeeze hers. “If I’d had any concept just how much fun this was, I would’ve come years ago.”

Carewyn smiled, looking genuinely touched. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Andre.”

Orion glanced from Carewyn to Andre and back. His face was very unreadable, but his black eyes had widened noticeably.

This must be him, he realized. Prince Henri.

The thought was a club to the back of the head, knocking some sense back into him after having gotten so thoroughly distracted. Orion’s thoughts moved very quickly as he watched the two interact.

“I am,” Andre said fervently, his eyes squinting slightly as he beamed. “And I hope you know how grateful I am...”

Something grimmer flickered over his face.

“...I hope you know...Iris was wrong, about how I see you.”

Carewyn was startled. “Andre...”

“I don’t just see you like a little dress-up doll,” said Andre very seriously, as he squeezed her hand. “You’re my friend, and a good one, at that. And for what it’s worth...” he smiled broadly, “...I’d say any royal should be proud, to have you on their arm.”

Carewyn was clearly a bit overwhelmed by the Prince’s complimentary words. Her gaze had drifted down to the table.

“...Thank you, Andre,” she said very softly.

Although her face was demure, her sparkling eyes and voice betrayed some deep, genuine emotion -- and despite himself, Orion felt some warm pride welling up in his chest, at the sound of it. Catching himself, Orion forced himself to return to the task at hand and lightly cleared his throat.

“Forgive me,” he said politely, “but I don’t think we’ve met.”

Carewyn looked from Andre to Orion quickly.

“Oh -- yes,” she said, “Andre...this is Orion. Orion, Andre.”

Andre’s eyes lit up at the name.

“So this is the infamous Orion you’ve been telling me about, KC!” he said, shooting a bright grin over at his cousin.

Orion raised his eyebrows curiously. “‘Infamous?’ I must wonder what she’s told you, for me to have earned that title.”

KC grinned. “Just that you saved Carewyn from a bucking horse, pulled her out of a ravine, and climbed over the castle wall twice just to visit her.”

Ginny’s freckled face lit up. “Orion, you did all that? That’s so romantic!”

Both Orion and Carewyn immediately tried to correct the record, but no one seemed to care much. Andre was laughing most of the time.

“Are you well-traveled, Orion?” asked Andre. “Judging by the way your doublet is distressed, I’d guess you’ve been to the Islands in the Southern Sea -- I’ve only seen such fabrics as imports.”

“I’m...afraid I haven’t, actually,” confessed Orion. “Though I have been to the Southern Sea.”

Florence’s castle was actually positioned on the shore, right by the sea. It was one of the few things Orion could say in its favor, even though there were times it made him long to cast off and never return.

Everyone seemed interested in this.

“You have?” said Charlie eagerly. “What’s it like?”

“Did you sail on a ship?” asked Ginny.

“Were you ever attacked by pirates?” added Ron.

“Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid,” Orion chuckled. “I’ve only seen it, not sailed it...at least, not yet.”

Carewyn’s red lips turned up into a full, pretty smile. “It must be beautiful, though.”

Orion turned to her, his own mouth spread in a grin. “It’s breathtaking. A seemingly endless void of blue that nonetheless sparkles as green as jade and as white as pearl. It’s as translucent as crystal, and yet so deep and mysterious that ships have been swallowed whole by it, and no man could ever discover all of its secrets. Its waves whisper to you as it ghosts the shoreline, and yet it can also roar and ravage like a beast, without warning or mercy. It can hypnotize you, draw you in...make you long to drown yourself in it, while simultaneously wanting it to spirit you away, over the horizon...”

Like your eyes.

Orion caught himself staring in them. Closing his eyes and bowing his head, he forced a soft laugh.

“Forgive me -- I’ve gotten carried away...”

“Not at all,” said Carewyn gently. She rested a hand lightly on top of his forearm. “It sounds wonderful.”

Orion found himself unsure of how to respond to her touch. He’d never really been around a lot of physical affection before, so he was at a bit of a loss of what to do in such a situation. Fortunately Carewyn withdrew not long after, and Orion tried to find his center of balance again by turning his focus back to Andre.

“...I must say, though...your attention to detail is impressive, Andre. I can see why you and Carewyn get along -- she also has an eye for hair and clothing pieces.”

“Of course she does,” said Charlie, sparing a playful smile in Carewyn’s direction. “Carey is our little lady, after all.”

Carewyn shot Charlie an attempt at a sardonic look, but it was foiled by the broad smile that had conquered her face.

“That she is!” Andre laughed.

“A lady with considerable grit, however,” said Bill, his mouth turned up in a wry smile not unlike Charlie’s. “I’ve never seen anyone else climb up onto a mantle, just to reach a chandelier.”

KC looked at Carewyn incredulously. “What? Why didn’t you get a ladder?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” said Carewyn primly, crossing her arms. “I had it under control.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled affectionately. “I’d say even an experienced soldier in the field would hesitate before climbing over a steep cliff and into a briar patch at the bottom of a ravine...wouldn’t you agree, Andre?”

Andre nodded. “I daresay so! Though I’ve never been to the battlefield myself, or met any soldiers...I would dearly like to, though.”

Orion frowned. “Like to?”

“Well, yes,” said Andre, his tone becoming more serious. “We could use all the help we can get out there...I’d love to feel like I could really help the war effort on the ground, rather than staying at home. Especially when my comfort is built on the backs of those who are hurting.”

Orion’s gaze fell down onto his hands as they clasped together on the table.

“...Your conviction is inspiring,” he said softly. “But believe me...a battlefield is not a place anyone should like to visit.”

Not long after, Erika rather abruptly rose to her feet and told Andre it was time to leave. The group all left the festival together, though Carewyn lingered behind with Orion, so as to try to give Andre cover for getting back inside the palace without anyone noticing.

Once they were alone, Orion once again found himself off-balance. He’d acknowledged before that Carewyn indeed was a person to be admired, as well as a person who could be admired by anyone...even him. He did admire her. He enjoyed her company -- he found her witty and engaging -- he identified with her independence, resilience, and determination -- he was struck by her compassion and utter selflessness. She was like him in so many ways, and yet she was methodical and insightful, as well as braver than a bear, despite her size. Her voice was so soothing, and yet it rippled with a kind of deep passion and emotion that it truly rivaled the deep, dark sea. And tonight especially...tonight, he kept catching himself staring...but none of that mattered. None of it should matter, in the face of achieving peace for Florence.

“She’s not on your side,” McNully’s words returned to him. “She’s on Royaume’s. Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion couldn’t help but feel as though using his head would be easier if he could more easily tell which way was up.

“I’m glad you came, Orion,” said Carewyn. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better dance instructor -- dancing isn’t really my area of expertise.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled mischievously. “Perhaps we shall simply have to dance again in the future, so that we might practice.”

Carewyn giggled. “Somehow I doubt either of us will be attending any grand balls in the future.”

Orion’s amused gaze softened as it trailed over her cold-kissed pink cheeks and along the snowflakes clinging to the ginger waves cascading down her back.

Carewyn tilted her head, her lips twisted up in a wryly questioning smile. “...What?”

Orion looked away quickly.

“Forgive me -- I merely...don’t recall ever having seen you wear your hair down before. It’s...different.”

Carewyn brought a hand through her hair absently. “Mm...yeah, I guess it would be. I don’t wear my hair down much, but...well, I figured for a casual event like this, it wouldn’t be a problem...”

“It’s no problem at all,” said Orion. He kept his tone as level as possible, even though he felt a flush creeping up his neck. “I was just thinking it was appropriate...to see you letting loose with your friends, the same day you chose to wear your hair free...”

He came to a stop, and Carewyn stopped too, turning around to face him properly. Orion reached out his hand and -- very tentatively -- took hers, holding it between their chests like a gentleman.

“...You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion murmured. “Free.”

Carewyn scanned Orion’s face, her eyes lingering on his before dipping into the corners of lips. Orion felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He wanted to kiss her hand, but...did he dare?

“She’s not on your team.”

“You reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?

“Mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

It was just too much. Orion couldn’t think, whenever his thoughts got too loud. Closing his eyes, he took several deep, measured breaths. Only once he’d brought his heart rate down did he open his eyes again.

“I should go,” he said at last, his voice coming out much more calmly than he felt.

His eyes flickered down to his hand holding hers again, but he’d already lost his nerve. He released her hand, even though his hand felt like it had chilled as soon as the contact was broken.

“...Good night, Carewyn.”

He turned to go.

“Orion.”

Carewyn’s hand enclosed over his. Orion stiffened, his heart pounding full-force once more, and he turned back around to face her, just as she raised his hand up to her own lips and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Orion stared. She raised her head with a smile, releasing Orion’s hand with a kind of muted confidence even despite the pinkness of her cheeks.

“Until we meet again, Mr. Freeman.”

With this, she picked up her skirts and darted away up the street, in the direction of the palace.

Orion stared after her. He stared long after she was out of sight, his galaxy-like black eyes staring at the swirling snow without even seeing it. He tentatively took his own hand, trailing his thumb over the place her lips had grazed...and despite all judgment, despite all rational thought, he found his lips turning up in a smile of their own accord. He’d never felt so light and so off-balance in all his life -- was this what it felt like, to glide on a bird’s wings? And yet he knew, despite the weightlessness he felt, it was instead indicative that he’d fallen.

In the midst of using her to get intelligence about her kingdom...in the midst of him following the strategy he’d laid out to get the end of the War he wanted, by learning their weak points and using them to soften others to him...Prince Cosimo Orion Amari, heir to the throne of Florence, had fallen head over heels in love.

[hotchley]

the first christmas

please don’t judge the title or quaity of this, it’s 00:50 and i’ve not proofread it. we’re just going to go with it.

summary: it’s baby hotchner’s first christmas that he’s actually going to remember. it’s mostly pure fluff with like the smallest amount of angst, but the ending is happy and nobody dies or gets hurt so we’re classing it as a win. and fluffy.

trigger warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

read on ao3!

Christmas was fast-approaching, and they still weren’t ready. Initially, Dave had wanted everything to be perfect. Now… he just wanted everything to be ready before Aaron woke up. SSA Hotchner had taken a tumble into a river and emerged from it as an eight-year-old. Well, a sort of eight-year-old. He had memories of being an adult, but they were fuzzy at best. And his speech, the way he did things, and his size were that of an eight-year-old.

Jack seemed to be having the time of his life. Dave was just worried they were going to do something horrifically wrong. Like Christmas. Hotch never really opened up about his plans for the holiday season, and now, every time someone tried to get him to open up about what he wanted to do, he clammed up. Or he’d change the subject.

One time, Spencer had asked, and he’d run out the room before he could even finish the question.

They stopped trying to ask him after that. Jessica had no idea what his Christmas traditions had been growing up as her family had only moved when he was going into his senior year, and after him and Haley got married, she still never really knew what the two of them got up to. Jack had seemed uncomfortable when they asked him. After much prodding and gentle confirmation that there would be no judgement, no matter what he said, Emily managed to pry the information from him.

In the years between the divorce and Haley’s death, Christmas was spent with Haley and Jessica, with Aaron there but not really there because you could cut the tension with a knife. After she died, Hotch had always sent Jack to his grandparents for Christmas because then he could see his cousins and spend time with the family he rarely saw. Which meant Hotch usually spent Christmas as an adult alone and sad.

He couldn’t believe none of them had ever realised, but then JJ and Will would always go and see her mom. Spencer would go down to Las Vegas. Derek and Penelope would go to Chicago and then to visit her parents grave. Dave’s plans varied on who was in the area and Emily usually went as far from her family as was possible. But they had all at least had someone. Hotch had nobody.

Rossi suspected that was how he spent a lot of his childhood too. There was no other reason that he would be so small. Because Rossi remembered Jack and Henry when they were the age Hotch now was. They were both healthy and lively. Hotch seemed far too small and far too nervous for a child that was supposedly safe.

He shook his head and stared at the sight before him. The tree that he had gotten at the last minute was still bare because every time he tried to decorate it, something just wouldn’t look right. Garcia was going to come round with cookies and the rest of the team would also be arriving at various different times with assorted items. He knew that meant presents.

Garcia arrived thirty minutes early. When he opened the door to her, he was greeted by bags. Lots and lots of bags.

“Penelope, what have you done?”

She walked in with the two smallest and lightest bags. He sighed and picked up the rest, following her into the hallway as she toed off her shoes and hung up her coat.

“Well Hotch won’t open up about Christmas so we don’t know what traditions he remembers or did. Which means we need to do all of them. I have decorations, cookie ingredients, stockings, films, books and of course, everything you need for the perfect hot chocolate. And he may still believe in Santa so there are some carrots and mince pies.”

“Wait. Cookie ingredients? I thought you were going to bring them?”

Garcia didn’t respond. She’d walked into the living room whilst she had explained what was in the bags and Rossi suspected it was because she hadn’t heard him. He sighed and followed her in. She was staring at the tree.

“What is that?” she whispered, seemingly horrified.

“Look don’t judge me. I tried to decorate it. Multiple times. But every time, something just didn’t look right and I had to start over. I’m a perfectionist. Sue me.”

She turned and stared at him. “Rossi, I don’t know what planet you’ve been living on, but a Christmas tree isn’t supposed to look perfect. It’s supposed to be fun. And I know you want to surprise bossboy, but I think he should be involved. After all, he probably doesn’t remember a single Christmas fondly.”

Rossi realised she, as always, was right. “I guess I got so caught up in trying to get everything to be perfect for him that I forgot it was meant to be fun.”

“Would you look at that? He’s willing to admit when he’s wrong. Where is baby Hotchner at the moment?”

“Upstairs, napping. I don’t think he slept well last night. I also don’t think he likes being called baby Hotchner given that he’s not actually a baby.”

“Well what am I meant to call him? If I say Hotch, then it sounds like I’m referring to the big, mean to unsubs but sweet to the rest of us, federal agent. And Aaron just feels wrong.”

Rossi smiled at her antics. “Maybe. We’ll come up with a better nickname at some point. Do you want me to get him or will you be okay?”

“Oh I’ll get him! Kids that have just woken up are the cutest thing ever!”

Twenty minutes later, Garcia came down the stairs, her hand being held by Aaron.

He looked tiny, even for a child. His pyjamas, which consisted of a green dinosaur top and matching bottoms (only the bottoms had different dinosaurs all over it whilst the top was a single red one) seemed to swallow him up. His hair was falling in his face and incredibly floppy, only made worse by his recent waking up.

It was an adorable sight, watching him rub one eye to get the sleep out.

Dave crouched down, even as his knees winced. Aaron stared at him with wide eyes.

“How are you feeling little one?” he asked.

Aaron shrugged. “Miss Penny said that we were going to do something fun because of Christmas, so I guess I’m okay.”

It took Rossi a moment to understand what he was saying. He doubted any of them- aside from Will- would actually be able to understand his accent immediately for a long time.

“Yeah. We are going to decorate the Christmas tree that’s over there, and then we’re going to bake some cookies. Then, we can all sit on the couch, drinking hot chocolate and watch a film that you’ll get to pick. And after that, when it’s time to go to sleep, we’ll read a special Christmas story!” Garcia said, more excited than the actual kid.

Aaron turned to stare at her, a little disbelieving. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah baby Hotchner. Really.”

He still seemed suspicious. “No catch?”

Garcia’s smile faded and she sat beside him too. “No baby. No catches.”

Hotch regarded her for another moment then turned to Rossi. “Promise Mr David?”

Dave’s heart cracked a little. “I promise.”

“Okay. How do we decorate the tree?” he walked over on little legs to stare at it in awe, before moving onto the bags. He looked at Garcia for permission to look through and when she nodded, he smiled so brightly that Dave wanted to freeze the moment and live in it forever.

Garcia turned to Dave. “Rossi, I-”

“Don’t. Not now. He’s very perceptive. Aaron, we can decorate it however you want. You’re too small to put some of the stuff on, but if you tell us, we’ll do it for you. You can do the branches that are lower down.”

Aaron dropped the tinsel. “However I want?”

Garcia nodded. “It’s your tree.”

Aaron grinned and immediately started dragging all the decorations that he wanted to use towards the tree. Both adults got the hint and stood up, walked over to him and started talking about where the best place to put the various items was.

JJ and Derek came in halfway through the decorating process. Aaron froze momentarily, but when they both smiled and complimented the very hectic tree he relaxed and carried on like nothing had happened.

Morgan lifted him up so he could put the star on and Hotch let out a childish squeal that none of them were ever going to let him forget, and just like that, the tree was done. There was tinsel in all the colours of the rainbow draped over random branches, and baubles hanging off every available surface. The lights were wrapped around each section, going the opposite way to the tinsel and the star at the top was crooked. In Dave’s honest opinion, it looked horrific. But Aaron’s smile and pride in his creation made it beautiful.

When Spencer joined them, right before they started making the cookies, Aaron went into shy mode and hid behind Dave’s legs, peering out from behind him to see Spencer joking with Morgan and Penelope.

“Do you want to go and say hi to Mr Spence?” JJ asked gently.

Aaron shook his head. “Last time he was here, I ran away so I don’t think he wants to be my friend.”

JJ looked shocked. “Of course he wants to be your friend! He gets why you ran away, it’s okay darling. You don’t believe me? Okay. Hold my hand, and I’ll show you how much Spencer wants to be your friend. Come on, let’s go.”

He looked doubtful, but Hotch liked and trusted JJ so he stopped hiding and went over to where Spencer was.

“Hotch! Hi there!” Spencer greeted.

Hotch looked up at JJ who smiled encouragingly.

“Mr Spencer, are you angry at me for running away?” he asked.

Spencer frowned. “No. Of course not. I was a little bit upset, because I thought you didn’t like me, but now I get why you ran away and it’s okay. We’re still best friends forever right?”

Hotch nodded, face very serious. “Forever.”

“Well now that’s been established, lets make some cookies,” Derek said.

“You just want to eat mine,” Garcia scoffed.

“I’d rather eat something else of-”

Garcia hit him. “Not in front of baby Hotchner.”

“Miss Penny? When is Miss Emily going to be here?” he asked.

As if on cue, the door swung open to reveal her. “You really shouldn’t keep the spare key under your doormat. Anyone could just waltz in.”

Hotch threw himself into her arms and she stumbled back slightly. “Oh hello child.”

He looked up at her, cheeks slightly flushed. “Hello Miss Emmy. We’re going to make cookies.”

She smiled. “I love cookies. Do you?”

He nodded. “Miss Penny made some a week ago, but these are going to be special because they’re Christmas cookies. She decorated the tree as well, but I got to tell her what to do. Come and see it!” he said without breathing before dragging her to see it.

The others just shrugged, not willing to dampen his spirits.

“I love him as a kid,” Derek commented as they watched him explain the tree in extensive detail.

Baking cookies consisted of Garcia telling the others what to do and then doing it for them because they couldn’t do it right and Aaron giggling at all of them for being silly. His eyes lit up when Garcia gave him the bowls and a spoon before telling him to eat the cookie dough.

He watched the oven very intently. Reid sat beside him, and before anyone knew what was happening, Hotch was running over to them and asking if they wanted to hear what Dr Spencer- not Mr- had taught him.

Garcia let him decorate a whole batch. More icing ended up on his poor countertops and Aaron’s clothes than on the actual cookie, but if you didn’t look too closely, his reindeer and snowman actually looked like they were the things they were meant to be. And then Derek let him have two, which led to Spencer chasing him all over the mansion- not the house- to burn off the energy.

After several hours, they both collapsed on the couch. Aaron climbed into Garcia’s lap, eyes bright and cheeks red.

“I had so much fun Miss Penny!” he exclaimed.

“I’m so happy for you. Do you want a hot chocolate? We can put… marshmallows and cream and cinnamon in it,” she said.

He smiled. “Please Miss Penny.”

“Okay kiddo. One hot chocolate coming right up.”

He settled onto the couch, nestled in between Dave and Penelope when she came back and handed him the mug, full to the brim with cream and other assorted toppings that were definitely going to ruin his teeth.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had,” he whispered to her, as though it was a very important secret.

“Even better than Mr David’s spaghetti?” she teased.

Aaron paled and seriously considered her question for a few moments before giving the slightest nod. Garcia squealed then went silent when Dave shot her a strange look. It was halfway through Nativity! that Aaron drifted off, the events of the day finally catching up to him.

Derek was the only one able to carry him up without waking him, so the moment they all realised he was indeed sleeping, they switched the film off. Whilst Derek took the sleeping Hotch to Dave’s guest room that they were going to redecorate as soon as possible, Emily grabbed the first book off the pile and followed. The rest stayed downstairs to wrap the presents that Garcia had left in her car, just in case.

Upstairs, Derek and Emily were watching Aaron sleep. Emily read him Stick Man, deciding it was the best story they could have picked.

“He’s so small,” she whispered.

“He shouldn’t be,” Derek said, switching Aaron’s nightlight on before stepping out the room, leaving the door slightly open.

Emily sighed. “Why are we so full of sadness on Christmas Eve?”

Derek wrapped an arm around her. “It’ll all be fine. There. Optimism.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled at him fondly. “Let’s just go help the others wrap, and by that I mean eat the mince pies meant for Santa.”

It was Derek’s turn to roll his eyes.

Dave woke Aaron up slightly later than normal, deeming the events of the previous night reason enough to let him sleep in.

“Merry Christmas little one,” Dave said.

“It’s Christmas?” Aaron said.

Dave nodded. “And I want you to come and see something. You don’t need to get dressed or anything like that. Actually, do you need to pee?”

Aaron nodded, so Dave let him go.

When he came back, Dave stood, ready to just go downstairs when he picked up on Aaron’s hesitance.

“What is it?”

Aaron stared at the carpet for a few moments.

“Little one, you can tell me.”

Aaron didn’t say anything but made grabby hands.

Dave smiled. “Of course.” He picked Aaron up, regretting it almost immediately but only setting him down when they were about to go into the living room.

“Close your eyes. I promise you it’s a good surprise.”

He only hesitated for a moment before complying and walking in, both hands covering his eyes that were almost certainly squeezed shut.

“Open your eyes,” he said, flicking the light on at the same moment that Aaron did.

“Merry Christmas baby Hotchner!” Garcia shouted.

The others chimed in with their own festive greetings.

Aaron seemed overwhelmed, so Spencer went and knelt beside him, explaining exactly what they were going to do, which calmed him down as he started smiling and seemed very excited for all the presents that were under the tree and addressed to him.

Hours later, when Aaron was resting his head on Spencer’s lap so his hair would be played with, Jessica and Jack arrived, having left her dad’s house early. They watched the scene play out from the doorway, smiling when Dave walked over. He nodded in acknowledgement, not wanting to disturb the scene they were all watching.

“He looks so relaxed,” Jack said.

“I still can’t get over how well you’re taking this,” Jessica admitted.

He shrugged. “I’m just trying to not think about it too much. If it means Dad is going to smile and have some better memories, then I’ll choose to focus on that instead.”

Dave smiled at that. They would worry about the cure later. For now, they would give Aaron some better memories.

When they were winding down for the day, Aaron went up to Dave and Penelope, Spencer holding his hand as the two of them were Best Friends Forever and had to do everything together- Aaron’s words.

“Mr David? Miss Penny?”

They paused in their washing/drying duties and turned to face him so he knew he had their full attention.

“Yes?” Penelope said.

“This was the best Christmas ever.”

Penelope scooped her into his arms, and when the others realised they were hugging a definitely touch-starved Aaron, they all came running over and in that moment, there was no evil or bad in the world because for the first time, child Aaron Hotchner felt completely and utterly safe.

[sodalitefully]

Santa Slash is coming to town...

This fic is the Christmas-themed spiritual successor to my Easter Bunny AU.  Special thanks to @slashscowboyboots for supporting all my holiday nonsense! 

Four snapshots from Slash’s Christmas prep marathon through the years:

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.  

Fucking jingle bells.

There were FIFTEEN of them on the stupid-fucking-candy-colored costume he had to wear at this godforsaken excuse for a seasonal job.  “Earn some extra cash,” they said.  “It’s easy, you barely have to do anything,” they said.  "You'll be perfect, you already look the part!" they said.  

"They are about to find a size-ten jingle-toed bootie up their ass,” Axl said – to himself, as he rushed into the storage room turned "dressing room" and buttoned up his itchy red and green vest with one hand while sipping an Orange Julius from the food court with the other.  

“Hey, Axl! You’re barely late today, awesome!”

And then there was this weirdo.

Axl could not for the life of him explain why a shopping mall in Indiana elected to hire a skinny dude in his 20s with a dark complexion and a nose ring to portray Saint Nick himself, but whatever the reason, Axl was stuck working with this fruitcake until Christmas Day.  Sure Slash was nice enough (oh yeah, and his name was Slash, or at least that's how he introduced himself without offering any explanation or even a last name), but he was way too enthusiastic about getting paid minimum wage to let strange kids sit in his lap at a grimy old shopping mall.

Uh, not in a weird way, Slash was good with the kids, really.  But sometimes... it seemed like he was taking his role a little too seriously.  

"How come you don't have a beard?" the first customer of Axl's shift, a little girl in a Tweety bird sweater and blonde pigtails, asked suspiciously.

"That's a good question,” Slash said, scratching at his bare chin. The neck of his Motörhead Beyond the Threshold of Pain Tour T-shirt was visible over the faux fur collar of the Santa costume, and his shiny black boots clearly came from a military surplus store. “I get asked that a lot but the truth is, it just isn't a flattering look, trust me.  I tried it once, and the elves could barely look at me in the eye." To Axl’s incredulity, the girl actually accepted that answer.  "Now tell me, what would you like for Christmas this year, sweetheart?"

As usual, Axl tuned out at this point.  Fake a smile for the overprotective parents, take the painfully awkward commemorative photograph, try not to look like he would rather die than hear Slash try to gently explain that Santa will probably not be delivering a pony this year one more damn time, rinse and repeat – until about an hour later, when the unthinkable happened.

The less said about about the incident, the better.  Suffice to say, one of the darling angels tossed his Christmas cookies, and some of the resulting mess wound up soaking into the front of Axl’s elf costume.  As if he needed another reason to hate his job; this was just adding insult on top of injury (that is, the injury to Axl’s pride as a result of being forced to wear the most ridiculous-looking costume he’s ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on). 

“That’s it. I quit.”  He grabbed the elf cap off his head and slammed it on the ground, then stormed through the exit gate past the sign wishing customers a "Holly Jolly Holiday Season," the bells on his costume ringing merrily as he stomped his feet.

“Hey, wait!”

“No,” Axl growled, but he did turn around to look back at Slash, still sitting in the plastic candy-cane throne unbothered by the mess or the sniffling child now mostly placated by a peppermint candy.  "What."  

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?" 

-----

Nothing said "holiday cheer" like wandering the tinsel-adorned labyrinth that was a Walmart superstore a week before Christmas, with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" echoing through the tinny PA system and surrounded by other last-minute vultures hopelessly scavenging the picked-over aisles.  

In Izzy's defense, he actually finished all his shopping early this year, for once.  But then his two little brothers begged him to drive them around town to find the perfect gift for a girl at school that they apparently both had a crush on, and like a fool he agreed. 

He was regretting it now.  Anything would be better than subjecting himself to nearly an hour of top-40 Christmas music.  The jingle bells were jingling, the carolers were caroling, the B-list pop stars were spitting out god-awful covers of Christmas classics, and don’t even get him started on the commercials. 

He wasn't about to walk around in public with his fingers shoved in his ears (at least, he wasn't that desperate yet), but he did squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to relax.  Just take deep breaths and think of The Rolling Stones... 

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

Izzy opened his eyes reluctantly.  In front of him was a young man wearing a concerned expression and a Santa hat, stuffed onto a massive pile of dark curls.  

"I'm fine.  Just finding out if it's possible to die from overexposure to Christmas music."

"Ahhh."  The man nodded in understanding.  "It's not, unfortunately.  I've tested it, trust me."

"Do you work here or something?" Izzy asked.  A leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't look like an employee uniform, but his hat matched the store decor and he didn't have a cart or shopping basket.  

"No, I'm actually a seasonal distributor.  Just checking in to make sure everything's in place before that last holiday rush, you know? Shit always gets crazy at the last minute."

"Tell me about it," Izzy responded, as if he knew a thing about marketing as a cynical 16-year-old.  But he had first-hand experience with last-minute crises, and as if to prove it, his brothers came running up to him at that moment.

"Jeff!  We can't find anything good, what should we do?"

"What's the problem?" the stranger in a Santa hat asked, looking genuinely concerned.  

"We don't know what present to get for a girl at school," the boys explained.

"Hmm..." He tapped at his chin.  "Why don't you just – oh wait, you're underage.  Well, how about you bake her some cookies or something?  That's what everyone does for me and I have no complaints."

Desperate to remove himself from this musical hell, Izzy jumped on the idea.  "Yeah, you could do sugar cookies!  And decorate them like horses, she likes horses right?” The boys had only mentioned that a dozen times; Izzy was starting to wonder if this girl even had any other personality traits.  

To his relief, a spark lit up in his brothers' eyes.  Cookies were a perfect idea, and suddenly they were dragging him away to look at cookie cutters and sprinkles.

Izzy turned around to shoot the helpful stranger a grateful look, but when he looked back, the man had disappeared with no trace, leaving not even a furry white pompom behind.

-----

Slash glanced out the window and grimaced – it was cold as a witch’s big bouncy tit outside, nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye could see. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and took another swig of hot Irish coffee.   Damn the North Pole, there was a reason he took his summer vacations in Malibu.

But despite the miserable work conditions, Slash was nothing if not dedicated to his job.  In front of him was a sack overflowing not with toys but with the most recent letters to Santa, straight from the North Pole's post office.  With Christmas only a few days away, his daunting task was to go through the whole mountain of letters as quickly as possibly in order to take their special requests into consideration before it was time to start loading up the sleigh.  

Well, there was no time like the present to get started.  Slash stretched his back and got comfortable in his coziest armchair (by throwing his legs over one armrest and slouching until his head rested on the other), absentmindedly tapping the end of his peppermint stick on the edge of an ashtray.  He grimaced when he brought the stick back to his lips and realized his mistake. 

With a sigh, he dropped the peppermint stick back in the ashtray already full of cigarette butts and ruined candies, and unfolded the first letter.  In barely legible green marker, the message read: 

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Steven and I'm 5 years old.  Please give me a skateboard for Christmas.  My brother has one and he won't let me borrow it to learn tricks.

Hmmm.  Five years old was a little young for a skateboard.  Knowing Steven, he'd probably knock his teeth out by New Year's...

...Slash shrugged.  Why not?  All things considered, he would have killed for a skateboard when he was five, so who was he to say no?

-----

Duff was seven years old when his older brothers cornered him in the backyard and gleefully informed him that Santa Claus was a fraud.  It was all a lie made up by parents to convince their children to behave during the year, they explained, and the toys were made on factory lines not by magical elves.  Their mother gave them a hell of a scolding afterwards but it was too late, the deed could not be undone. 

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, Duff was very distraught as Christmas Eve inched closer.  Could his siblings be right?  He didn't want to believe it, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd suspected as much for some time.  He braced himself to accept the hard truth come Christmas Eve – but only if he was presented with definitive proof.

When the fateful night finally came, Duff and two of his brothers laid out their sleeping bags behind the couch, where they'd be hidden from view if anyone tried to approach the Christmas tree.  They all swore not to fall asleep, not even for a second until Christmas morning... And it wasn't until his brother started snoring that Duff realized he was the only one still awake and silently anticipating the moment of truth.  

It was imperative, of course, that he stayed hidden and didn't make a sound, or else risk giving their plot away.  But... it was past midnight, dinner was hours ago and Duff's empty stomach was starting to distract him from the task at hand.  He couldn't stop thinking about all the food he would get to eat with his family on Christmas Day: the glazed ham, mashed potatoes, apple pie and Christmas cookies... 

In the dim light, Duff could just barely make out the plate of cookies for Santa, waiting in front of the tree.  The cookies were still there untouched, all six of them... Surely no one would notice if Duff ate just one?  

He tiptoed over his sleeping siblings, as silent as the snow falling outside, making his way around the sofa to the plate on the coffee table.  But just as he reached out to pluck a gingerbread man from the assortment, he saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye.  There, beside the Christmas tree in the flickering glow of multicolored string lights, was a mysterious figure in a fur-lined coat and a red cap.

Duff stared at the intruder, slack-jawed.  The cookie clattered back onto the dish, and at the noise the stranger whirled around to face him. 

"Duff!  What are you doing still awake?" he demanded.  Duff took a breath to answer – or more likely to ask how the man knew his name – but before he could, the man peered over the couch, narrowed his eyes and frowned.  "Oh I see what this is. You thought you would catch your parents pretending to be me!" he accused.  "Well, here's the real truth: adults are always wrong and you should never do what they say!" 

The man – could he really be Santa Claus? – he planted his leather-gloved hands on his hips as he scolded Duff.  "And don't even get me started on teenagers..." he griped, casting a stare over Duff's shoulder where his older brother's leg was sticking out from behind the couch, tangled in a blanket.  

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

"Please still give them Christmas presents!  I know they said they don't believe in you, but they've been good, I promise!" he begged.  Santa's expression softened.

"Aw, I know, kid.  I promise they'll still get their presents, alright?  Let me just finish up here and then maybe you can help me out with those cookies, sound good?"

Placated, Duff sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He hopped onto the sofa, swinging his feet and watching with awe as Santa pulled beautifully wrapped gifts out of seemingly nowhere and stacked them around the tree, one after another until all eight of the McKagan children were represented. He took a step back to take in his handiwork, made a few minor adjustments, then turned back to Duff: “Voila! That’s the magic of Christmas. Now pass me that plate, would you?”

Santa sat down next to Duff and propped his boots up on the coffee table. When Duff held out the plate of cookies, he selected one decorated to look like Santa Claus, white beard and all, and promptly bit its head off. 

“I love my job, but delivering presents is exhausting,” he sighed, accepting a glass of milk from Duff’s outstretched hand. “I’ve already covered Asia, Africa, Europe, and most of the Americas, so I’d say I’m due for a break.  Cheers, Duff.” He held up his glass and Duff tapped it with his half-eaten cookie. 

“To a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

[amydancepants-peralta]

10 and 24 for the festive prompts :)

(please excuse me while I hang my head in shame, for this was 1: received last year, and 2: still didn’t manage to appear before Christmas this year.) 🤦🏼‍♀️ Best laid plans really do be elusive, huh?  @ Anon, I'm sorry this is so late, and I hope you’re still around! ♥️ 

Prompts - 10: I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween! and 24: Secret Santa is bullshit. 

(for the sake of this story and b99′s vague timelines, this is set pre-manhunter and post-casecation).  (ao3)

all the lights are shining (so brightly everywhere) 

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Amy sighs, tapping her feet - sadly, trapped in a curled up shoe, and does her best to ignore the jingle that comes from its dangling bell.

Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Christmas Carols have always been a favourite of hers, forever singing along to the melody despite being told by many that she really shouldn’t.  They were joyful and uplifting and reminders of everything wonderful about the holiday season.  But tonight, she’s been standing post for three hours, listening to Z-List celebrity covers of sacred songs of hope; and as a result has spent 85% of her time hatching a plan to find the source of the music and put an end to everyone’s misery.

Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la, fa la la, fa la lahhh …

Jake’s off-key singing voice filters in through her earpiece, and a tiny smile finds it’s way onto her face.  

“Troll the ancient yule-tide carol, fa la la la laaaa, la la la laaa! … Wait, troll?  That can’t be right!  Hey Ames, do you think trolls celebrate Christmas?”

Knowing that answering would blow her cover, Amy remains quiet; nodding slowly both to the beat and her husband’s question as the track fades away and a new atrocity begins.  

Seriously, she needs to find out where this music is coming from.  

From underneath her undercover position as Head Elf of Candy Cane Lane, Amy shifts uncomfortably, resisting the urge to tug down the tinsel edged skirt that hovered just a little too high for her liking.  She wanted to burn the bra she had chosen to wear tonight (digging into her ribcage like it did), save for the fact that it was very expensive and very beautiful, and very much worn this evening with the sole purpose of seducing her husband.

Work had descended into pure madness in the past fortnight, with both her and Jake’s schedules descending from holding relative similarities to polar opposites.  And maybe it was the surplus of romantic movies on every single TV channel, or the scores of advertisements reminding her that the holiday season was for being together with loved ones (for Jake Peralta was most certainly Amy’s Loved One) - either way, Amy had begun to miss spending nights alone with her husband something fierce.  

Tonight’s plan had been so simple, it had barely required a binder.  Wait until it’s nearly Jake’s finish time, don sexy lingerie, cover up with comfy clothes and go pick up her unsuspecting husband from work.  Let him unlock the door when finally home, then jump his bones right there on the couch - giving Jake just enough time to discover the red lacy set and look at her the way he always manages to do - like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.  Then, sexy timez.  Lots of sexy timez.

And it had all been working so well - until she’d shown up at the precinct unannounced (Jake being too distracted to notice the text she’d sent him), and immediately found herself getting wrapped up in a sting her old squad were devising.  

In a spark of true evil, one of Brooklyn’s most elusive drug runners - Art Akemi - had invented a new way to dodge any of his drug shipments from being discovered; deciding to build candy canes around the narcotics so that to the unaware eye, they would appear completely innocuous.  

Unfortunately, one of his most recent handovers had gotten mixed up with actual candy canes, resulting in several innocent members of the public ending up in hospital with mysterious drug overdoses.  It had taken the 99 and their neighbouring precincts days to piece together Akemi’s plans, and just this afternoon Rosa had been given a lead that suggested a handoff with the kingpin and one of his henchmen would be happening at Santa’s Village that very evening.  

It was brazen, to set up an exchange of illegal narcotics in a public access area - particularly, one frequented by children and families alike - but also completely on brand for someone like Akemi.  The squad needed to work fast, and work smart; running through the finer details of their mission when Amy had arrived.    

And yes, perhaps her FOMOW had reached an all-new peak as she listened to the detectives speak, and perhaps she hadn’t really thought about what she was volunteering herself for - but the next thing Amy knew she was Holly the Christmas Elf, toes squeezed into surprisingly curly shoes as she fielded questions from children and waited for any signs of wrong-doing.   

It has been twenty-five minutes since Santa had disappeared to ‘feed the reindeer’ (aka disappearing to the back docks for a quick drag of a cigarette), and just as Amy was beginning to wonder if a search party needs to be called, she feels a gentle tug on her hand, looking down to find a little boy no older than five gazing up at her with awe.

“D’ya think Santa is busy making da presents?"

His eyes are wide - filled with the kind of awe that every child seems to get when they are lulled by the magic of Christmas - and as Amy crouches to match his diminutive height, she can’t help but notice how the unkempt curls on his head remind her of a photo with a similar aged Jake that Karen had once shown her.

(He had been mid-discovery of a fairy garden, one built by his Nana and immediately claimed as his own, and the sheer joy in his face had made Amy’s heart swell, even years later through the faded colours of an oft-cherished photograph.)

“You know, I bet he is.”  Scanning the crowd for that familiar mixture of red and white but coming up blank, she turns her attention back to the little boy.  “Santa’s magic like that, don’t you think?”

The child’s nod is so enthusiastic the tiny curls on his head begin to bounce, turning quickly as his searching father calls out his name.  “Just a little longer, and you can tell him all of your wishes, okay?”

“Da elf said Santa’d building da presents Daddy!”  The child runs back towards his father’s outstretched hand, and Amy gives the adult an understanding smile as he lifts his son back into his arms.  From his undercover position at a nearby popcorn stand; Jake catches Amy’s eye as she returns to her earlier position, giving him a tiny smile when he throws her a wink.  

The topic of parenthood - of them trying to have a baby, one day - had been mentioned by both more than a few times since their anniversary; and the regular use of the word when rather than if ignited a sense of hope in Amy that made her stomach flutter every single time.  While the enormity of it all still scared Jake - still scared Amy, if she were to be completely honest - what always seemed to remain after each conversation was the understanding that even if it scared them: together they’d figure out how to get through it.  

(Last month’s arrival of Miguel’s baby girl Adamaris, and the sight of Jake cradling her in his careful arms, had definitely not helped, playing on a loop in Amy’s mind for several days after their visit.)

“Nothing beats a bit of Santa magic, hey Santiago?”  Jake’s tone is light and playful, and only serves to remind Amy just how much she’s missed talking to him these last few weeks.  

Rolling her eyes slightly, she tucks her head downward, playing the pretence of adjusting her costume as she speaks into the hidden mic.  “Ha ha, Peralta.  Santa is magic, especially to cute kids like that one.  No way was I going to be the one to burst the Santa bubble.”

With a stuttered gasp, Jake slaps a hand against his chest, and a passing stranger gives him the side eye.  “Wait a minute.  Are you suggesting that Santa is fake?!”  

“Santa is real, Peralta.  As is this very real mission to take down Akemi.  Time to focus up.”  Terry’s firm tone breaks through the earpiece, busting into Jake and Amy’s conversation, and a sheepish grin breaks out on Jake’s face.  

“Right you are, sarge.  This is Super Serious Santa Shutdown Situation.”  Shoving several pieces of popcorn into his mouth, Jake waits a beat before continuing.  “Ames wasn’t wrong, tho.  That kid was a cutie.”

The unspoken addition of but ours will be cuter lingers between them, and Amy feels her skin warm up under Jake’s faraway gaze.  

Maybe this bra was going to come in use after all.  

Rosa’s voice cuts through the unsaid, her tone steady as she moves in closer from her position at a nearby payphone.  “Heads up - Santa’s back.  And it looks like they’ve swapped out their player.”

Immediately switching into detective mode, Jake shields his face from the new Santa’s sight as he passes, already very aware of earlier (unsuccessful) run-in’s with the kingpin.  “That really looks like Akemi.”  

“Santiago, can you get close enough to confirm?”

Handing out Christmas tree shaped cookies to the children milling around her position, Amy glances up just in time to catch the replacement Santa as he walks into the village.  With the cocky swagger of a man who rarely pays any consequences for his actions, this version of Father Christmas looked paler and far more arrogant than the man wearing the costume earlier.  

Pushing past the waiting children with barely any acknowledgment of their tiny hellos, New Santa pauses on his way to his plush red throne; snapping his gum and giving Amy a very jolly (read: creepy) once-over with his eyes.  Glancing quickly in Terry’s direction, she gives a subtle nod.  Akemi’s case file has landed on almost every detective in New York’s desk at one point or another, and she’d recognised that hard gaze anywhere.  

“Well, well, well … don’t you look good enough to sit atop my Christmas tree.”

Acutely aware of their audience, and knowing that the red and white striped stockings covering her legs would definitely be restrictive if she needed to go full ninja on Santa’s ass, Amy quickly chooses to plaster on a bright and shiny grin.  “So glad you’ve made it back from the North Pole, Santa.  We’ve got lots of excited children just bursting to see you!”

“Yeah, whatever.”  Akemi leans in, an unwelcome mixture of tobacco and sweat washing over Amy, and it’s all she can do to not recoil in disgust as he lowers his voice.  “I’m only interested in one thing, lady, and once I got it I’m outta here.  But don’t you worry, there’ll be plenty of room on my sleigh for you.”

“Ok.  I don’t give a damn about any Christmas magic, Ames.  If he tries to make you kiss him under that mistletoe, I swear to god I will punch Santa right in the face.”

“Cool it, Peralta.”  Terry’s clenching jaw is almost audible in his response, and Amy takes a slow and calming breath, safe in the knowledge that her squad most definitely has her back. 

“Right.  Yep.  Cool it.   Cool cool cooling it.”  Each member of the team watches from their position as Santa saunters over to his seat, throwing several finger guns to waiting mothers as he goes; and Jake lets out a snort of disgust.  “So … has everyone gotten their Secret Santa present organised yet?  Rosa, you need some shopping tips?”

“No.  Secret Santa is bullshit.”

“It’s a fun holiday tradition that you are definitely participating in and if you picked my name I’d really love a voucher for that sneaker store on 28th.”

“I don’t have you, Peralta.”

“Yep.  No problemo.  Just saying.  In case you do.”

To her right, Amy notices Terry’s unmissable frame break through the crowd.  “Heads up, guys.  Looks like Santa’s buddy has found his way into the queue.”  With his wooly beanie and scores of shopping bags clutched in his hands, their sergeant blended in relatively easily as just another father doing some last minute panic shopping; but they all knew one flex of his oversized muscles would break that facade fairly easily.  

A silence falls over the comms as they watch Santa breeze through child after child, giving them barely any attention as his target draws closer; and slowly both Jake and Rosa close the gap from the other sides.  

Pulling out a poorly wrapped parcel and handing the gift to Akemi, the unshaven man at the front of the queue feigns surprise when Santa reaches into the sack next to his throne, handing the supposed stranger an oversized bag of ‘candy canes’.  

“There’s the exchange.  Boyle, can you confirm you got the footage?”

“With a beautiful slow zoom that really captures the thrum of festive anticipation hovering amongst the crowd, sarge.”

Cringing slightly, Jake shakes his head at Charles’ description as his eyes follow the bag of candy canes, their new recipient now walking at a steady pace towards the exit.  “We’re going to lose this guy if we don’t move now.”  

“Go, Peralta.  Diaz, you run backup.  Amy and I will take care of Santa.”

With a grin, Jake breaks into a fast walk, already focused in his pursuit.  “Alright, taking down a bad Santa in a public environment.  Now it feels like Christmas!”

“We’re going to wait until Akemi has left the village, Peralta.  You know, try not to break a bunch of children’s hearts?”

“You do you, Terry!”  

*

*

There are still remnants of festive glitter in Amy’s hair as she and Jake walk up the stairs of their apartment building several hours later, both of them slightly weary from the hours of paperwork and debriefing that took place after Santa’s Village.  

“Boy, bet thats the last time you come to the precinct and pick me up on your night off, huh Ames?”  The apology is obvious in Jake’s tone, and Amy glances over her shoulder to give him a reassuring smile.  Even if it hadn’t been in her original plan, she still got to spend the night hanging with her husband (although in a slightly different capacity than originally planned), and she was choosing to count that as a win.  (A small win, but a win all the same.)

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m really sorry you got pulled into all of that, babe.  I just didn’t see your message in time, or I would have … hey, Ames?”  The touch of his hand against her forearm is gentle, pulling her in with the quiet strength she knows her husband to possess, and Amy turns towards Jake without hesitation.  His eyes search her face, immediately seeing through her concealed defeat, and he really is the only one for her.  “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.  I just …” she feels a blush rush over her cheeks again, suddenly feeling ridiculous as she thinks of how to divulge her secret plan.  The underwire from the damn bra digs into her skin again as she squirms, and if tonight has taught Amy anything, it’s why lingerie like this is only designed to stay on until your partner rips it off seconds after reveal.  

“Babe?”

“It just feels like forever since we’ve had a night at home, just the two of us.”  Jake’s brows knit, and Amy leans in to rest both hands against her husbands chest.  “And I know that work has been crazy lately, and that it’ll eventually calm down again, I just … I’d sorta planned on tonight going differently once you were home.”

“Oh god, and instead you ended up in a glittery elf costume with a creep leering at you.”  Left hand slapping against his face in shame, Jake shakes his head in obvious frustration. 

“I mean, we can mainly blame my FOMOW for that, babe.  It doesn’t matter, really.  If I hadn’t been there, you might have gotten home even later so when you think about it, it’s way better we - mmfph -” the rest of Amy’s argument stops in it’s tracks as Jake pulls her in for a kiss, the gentle but insistent press of his lips against hers casting any other thoughts far to the side. 

The familiar touch of his hands as they roam against the outline of her butt causes Amy to melt entirely in Jake’s arms, resting her arms against his steady shoulders as her fingers slide into his hair.  This - these tiny moments where the world seemed to fade away and all she could feel was Jake - was what she’d been craving for weeks.  

Jake sighs against her lips, letting her tongue slip into his mouth as he shuffles ever so closer to her, and maybe he’d been missing this just as much as she.  

“So,” Jake whispers as he pulls away from the kiss, leaning in to brush his lips against Amy’s once more.  “Time to get this night back in track.”  Another kiss.  “What kind of plans did you make for us, Santiago?”

“Lets just say … the lingerie I’ve got on under here is going to blow your mind, Peralta.”

“Going to blow your mind, title of our sex tape.”

Amy nods, biting her lower lip as she steps out of Jake’s embrace, gesturing towards their apartment.  “But it’s also really uncomfortable.  C’mon, let's get inside before it ends up in the dumpster.”

Jake’s footsteps echo behind Amy’s, hands landing on her hips as she digs for the keys.  “I’m declaring it now, Ames.  Tomorrow night we’re both leaving early and staying in for movie night at home.  Phones off, popcorn, everything for the full movie experience.  We can watch Die Hard and Love Actually and Nightmare before Christmas …”

Amy’s nose crinkles at the last movie, unlocking their front door and tugging her husband through as it swings open.  “Didn’t we watch that last one for Halloween?”

“I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween!”

“Jake …”  

“Christmas is literally in the title, babe!”

Pulling him closer, Amy takes a leaf out of her husband’s handbook, silencing him with a definitely not PG rated kiss now that the risk of being discovered by a neighbour had slimmed to none.  

Jake’s arms wrap around her middle in response, holding Amy close as her fingers begin to trace the edge of his buttons, and she lets out a sigh of satisfaction that finally her initial plan was coming to fruition.  

Next time, though, she might add a sub-section into the binder about potential diversions, and how to avoid them (not join them) - FOMOW be damned.  This stuff was way more fun.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “A Christmas Without Santa” (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock comes home from school, he's in a foul mood. Through a little sleuthing, Nanny finds out that her young charge has been confronted by an unfortunate truth. And she gets to deal with the aftermath. (2299 words)

Notes: Written for the wonderful @theantichristmaszine 2020 :)

Read on AO3.

Warlock comes home from school in a foul mood.

He’s in a foul mood because he’s had a foul day.

He stomps up the walk after his chauffeur drops him home, completely bypassing the inflatable snowman, the animatronic skating penguins, the singing elves, and the laughing Santa in his giant snow globe. Nanny watches him from the kitchen window as he scowls at the cheery decorations, blowing by them when he would normally stop a moment and stare in awe. Mrs. Dowling told Nanny Ashtoreth that Warlock had picked out those decorations himself, and that the Santa snow globe had been his particular favorite. Indeed Nanny has seen him sit cross-legged in the snow to stare at it. He’d be there for hours on end if Nanny didn’t scoop him up and make him change into dry clothes.

But now he seems angry at it, and Nanny cannot imagine why.

“Hello, dearest,” she greets him as he marches through the door. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” he grumbles, taking off his backpack and tossing it in a corner. The zipper opens when it lands, a corner of his math book having wedged between the teeth. She hears his bedroom door open, then slam shut. She should take him his afternoon snack - a glass of milk and a plate of chocolate biscuits. But she holds back a moment, eyes fixed on the backpack, its contents spilled over the floor.

Nanny isn’t snooping. She’s tidying. There’s a difference. Mrs. Dowling would be cross if she came in and saw Warlock’s things on the ground. And with the day he’s had? He doesn’t need disciplining right now. Nanny doesn’t necessarily object to snooping, especially where the Dowlings are concerned. In her mission for Hell, it’s sort of expected. But she isn’t snooping nonetheless. And while she’s not snooping, she comes across a note.

A note that makes her blood boil and her amber eyes burn red.

She finishes her tidying, then takes the note, clenched in her fist, and heads out the door.

“Brother Francis!” she calls out, picking her way through a once green garden covered in a rare blanket of snow. “Brother Francis! Where the Heaven are you?” She spots his beige coat-covered rotund figure waddling out by the hedges. He’s heaping layers of mulch on the spot where the dahlia tubers are hiding below ground, to keep them warm till the spring thaw. Nanny stamps her foot and turns up her nose. Brother Francis is doing exactly as he should, but he didn’t ask for her advice. He looked it up for himself in one of those gardening books he brought along with him when he was hired.

Typical.

“Brother Francis!” She waves to get his attention. When he smiles and waves back, she calls out, “May I have a word?”

“For you, my dear? Two.” He lays his shovel against a wheelbarrow filled with composted bark, steam rising from the mound into the crisp, winter air.

“How very gracious.” Her words shake, which, if asked, she’ll blame on the cold when, in fact, she doesn’t feel it a bit. The tremble in her voice comes entirely from watching Brother Francis perform anything that even hints at hard labor. He has the sleeves of his coat rolled up to his elbows, exposing forearms not normally visible through his disguise.

Bulging, muscular forearms that belong entirely to the angel hiding underneath.

Seeing them like this raises Nanny’s temperature enough to melt the snow around her into a puddle.

“What’s wrong?” Francis asks, misreading the pinched expression on her face. “Is it Warlock? Is he ill?”

“Here!” She thrusts the note in his hands when she can’t string together a coherent sentence. “I found this in Warlock’s school bag.”

Brother Francis begins to read, but an anxious Nanny doesn’t let him get far. “They called him a baby! And a few other things for believing in Santa Claus! They all signed it, the little plague rats!”

“That’s very organized of them considering they’re only eight. Surprisingly neat penmanship, too.” Francis tsks. Children. How can they be so cruel? Who teaches them to behave this way? Where’s the sense in sending Warlock to a fancy, expensive school if this is the caliber of student that attends? “What have you done about this?”

“Nothing yet. But I swear to you, revenge will be swift!”

“Nanny, no …”

“Their class has a pet. A rabbit that bit Warlock once so I don’t think he’d be upset if I boiled the blasted thing in oil and left its skin hanging from the blackboard.”

“Nanny, dearest …”

“Oh, I won’t let Warlock see. I’ll take him to the zoo that day, go visit the jackals, the lions, other animals he likes, while we plan the personal take down of every student who put their name on that blasted note!”

“Nanny! That’s not what I mean! What did you tell Warlock?”

Ashtoreth looks at him and grimaces. “What do I tell him?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You have to tell him the truth.”

“And what’s that? Hmm? That the world is a cruel place where nothing magical ever happens even though both you and I are, in fact, supernatural, and could snap up a jolly fat man in a red suit because we have powers!?”

“I understand how you feel, my dear ...”

“Do you!?” she snaps. “Because last I checked, the gardener isn’t expected to take care of Warlock! I am! I feed him his dinner! I help him with his homework! I tuck him in at night! And when it comes down to it, the dirty deed falls on me here, doesn’t it?”

Francis sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You are going to bear the brunt of this. But I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

Francis peeks up at Nanny with apologetic eyes, and she softens. “That’s very kind of you.” She reaches out and gives his arm an indulgent squeeze. “But I have a plan.”

***

Nanny Ashtoreth’s plan is more of a tactic.

She decides there will be no problem if they simply ignore it.

If they don’t talk about it, it’ll go away.

If she can get Warlock caught up in the excitement of Christmas, then maybe he’ll forget the whole sordid affair.

Nanny does everything she can think of to distract Warlock.

They color.

They drink cocoa.

Lots of cocoa.

They finish making Mr. and Mrs. Dowling’s presents.

They bake cookies.

And even though Nanny consistently reminds Warlock that tonight is Christmas Eve with all the enthusiasm she can muster, she knows the poor boy’s heart isn’t into it.

When the time comes to tuck her charge in that night, she caves. “Warlock? Is there something troubling you? You don’t seem at all yourself today.”

Warlock stares at his red tartan comforter, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully, wearing the look of a person preparing to make a choice they know they’ll regret. “Nanny? Is there a Santa Claus?”

“Warlock …” Nanny sits on the edge of his bed and leans in close “… I’m going to be completely honest with you. Because you’re a smart boy, and you deserve no less than the truth.”

Warlock’s breath hitches. “That means no … doesn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “But there is a silver lining to this.”

“Yeah?” Warlock sniffs. “What’s that?”

“Now that you know, you get to carry on the tradition.”

“Of what? Lying to kids?”

“No, my dear. Of being Santa Claus.”

Warlock stares at Nanny with puppy-dog eyes.

The saddest eyes Ashtoreth has ever seen.

“I don’t understand, Nanny.”

“Santa Claus isn’t so much a person. He’s a symbol. He represents everything that’s good about the holiday season. Everything that’s good about humanity, too.”

“B-but how am I supposed to be Santa Claus?” he asks, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I’m only eight!”

“Every culture has had a Saint Nicholas of sorts - a kindly gentleman who hands out presents to those who deserve them. So when you give a present, what does that make you?”

Warlock stares at her in confusion. But when he catches on, he squeezes his eyelids shut and shakes his head, looking more angry than comforted.

“But why do adults do it? Why do they lie?”

Nanny sighs. She is at an impasse, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Her duty to Hell versus doing what’s right for Warlock.

As a demon, Nanny knows this conversation should go in an entirely different direction. She should be sowing seeds of resentment in the boy so that he grows to distrust and distance himself from his mortal parents. That would be an easy way to reap his soul for the Master, put him on his path to his inevitable destiny.

But Warlock, anti-Christ or not, is a little boy. A sweet, innocent boy … for the time being. And tonight is Christmas Eve. It’s a time of love and joy and family … even if God herself handed her only son over to the masses to be nailed to a cross.

But that’s a story for another holiday.

Nanny can always sow seeds of hatred and resentment on a less family-centric occasion, like bank holidays or Guy Fawkes Day.

“Because you need to believe in something, Warlock. It makes this world we live in tolerable, gives us a reason to wake up in the morning.”

“So … there is no Santa?” Warlock asks with the sad finality that comes with acceptance.

“No, dearest. I’m sorry. There’s only one man in a red suit in your life, I’m afraid.”

“And who’s that?” Warlock asks, looking at Ashtoreth with watery eyes.

“Your father.”

Warlock sniffles. Then his eyes twinkle, his face screwing up with laughter. “You’re so weird!”

“Oh, my little love,” Ashtoreth says, leaning forward to rub their noses together, “you have no idea.”

Footsteps on the roof capture their attention, causing Nanny and Warlock to freeze.

“What was that?” Warlock whispers, lower lip trembling with fear but his eyes bright with hope.

A hope that Nanny is wrong, that there really is a man in a red suit who travels all around the world giving out presents to good girls and boys. And that Warlock, even with his B-minus in math and his propensity to ‘forget’ to make his bed in the morning no matter how many times he’s told, may be among them.

Nanny startles for a second until the golden threads of a familiar holy aura rankles her senses. “That, my dear, is questionable decision making, I’m afraid.”

The footsteps continue their way across the shingles, heading for the gutters over Warlock’s window while a resounding “Ho, ho, ho!” announces their arrival. Nanny and Warlock sit still, listening as they progress. “Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho! Ho … ho … ho-no, no, no, no … aaahhh!”

Nanny and Warlock’s heads snap towards the window where a bulbous red blur streaks through the drift of falling snow, landing somewhere out of sight below the sill with a painful-sounding thud. Warlock’s eyes go wide with shock while Nanny’s head finds the palms of her hands and buries itself there.

“Nanny? If there’s no Santa, who’s that then?”

“That, my love, is an idiot. But he’s our idiot.” Nanny plants a blood red kiss to the boy’s pale forehead. “Everything will be all right,” she whispers earnestly. “I promise you. Get some sleep. And when you wake …”

“Everything will be different.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she says without thinking, a lump forming in her throat when the words sink in.

“Goodnight, Nanny,” Warlock says, rolling onto his side as Ashtoreth gets up and begins to leave.

“Goodnight, Warlock.” She turns back and catches Warlock staring at the window, smiling like the child he was on Christmas Eve last year.

She holds her breath and prays (for the first time in centuries) that smile lasts.

***

“What are you doing!?” Nanny whisper-yells as she races through the snow towards a reddish lump buried under a foot-and-a-half of snow.

“I’m stuck,” Francis mumbles, rocking back and forth in an effort to free himself.

“I can see that.” Ashtoreth snaps her fingers, sitting Brother Francis bolt upright.

“Oof! Thank you, my dear,” he says, brushing at his arms. “Big help that.”

“What were you thinking!? I thought we were meant to tell him the truth! That there is no Santa Claus!”

“Well, yes,” Francis says sheepishly, twiddling the thumbs of his thick, fleece mittens. “But I got to thinking - he’s still such a youngin, and believing in Santa is so much fun! The anticipation, presents underneath a tree full to bursting on Christmas Day, the stockings, the pudding!” Francis’s eyes twinkle so heartily when he speaks, Nanny wonders if he’s ever imagined what it would be like to be a boy growing up in a human household, experiencing the wonders of Christmas firsthand. “B-but I think the way you handled it was better. You always manage to do what’s best, r-regardless of your job description.”

“I don’t know that I did or not,” Ashtoreth admits. “Either way, I think your little stunt helped buy him another coupla years of what if. So huzzah! The magic of Christmas is saved, and we didn’t have to use a single miracle to do it.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes,” she says fondly. “It’s a very good thing.”

“Well then,” he says, gleefully patting the snow, “I suspect I should get out of this kit, eh?”

Ashtoreth grins. “Don’t. you. dare!” she demands, putting both hands on his chest and pressing him back into the snow. “I do believe I have a thing for men in red suits.”

[ffhseries]

Tales of Far From Home: Yggsmas in Killarney

da link

The park had been decorated for weeks now. Strings of lights wrapped around trees while shiny baubles hung on their branches. Festive wreaths and ribbons adorned the park benches and rubbish bins. Elaborate, massive strands of evergreen garland connected lampposts to each other. Green and gold, red and silver, the colors of the holiday season were everywhere.

And I absolutely hated it.

If you had asked me last year, hell just a few months ago, I would have felt differently. It used to be one of my favorite times but here and now…it felt like some gross farce. Like the universe was twisting the knife.

Because this wasn’t Christmas, and this wasn’t my home.

Don’t ask me how it happened. Don’t ask me why I’m here instead of Earth. Just know that this isn’t it. One moment I was storming out of my house after a fight with Ma. Thunder crashed just as I turned to answer her. The next moment, I was so dizzy I nearly passed out on the street. It took a few minutes for my head to clear and to get my bearings. Finding out the world had grown all around me nearly took my breath away.

Coming face to face with a dragon didn’t help matters.

It was the worst day of my life. Everything, and everyone, around me was absolutely gigantic. Oversized pigeons and sparrows were mingling with dragons -honest to God DRAGONS- while a gigantic woman fed them popcorn from her seat. The look she gave when she saw me among the flock would be seared into my memory forever. Like she had just seen some mangy rat pop out of the sewer and flip her off. It was the first disgusted look I’d earn in this world. It wouldn’t be the last. I had barely made it to the underside of a massive park bench before she threw more popcorn for the birds and creatures.

I’d been living in the park and underneath that very bench ever since.

The original plan was to couch surf on a mate’s couch until my temper cooled off. I had the row of a lifetime with Ma and I couldn’t be under the same roof with her. I had clothes packed for the week and my guitar. Busk on the corners for pocket change if I really needed it, maybe play a gig or two if the opportunity came up. I would’ve been home soon enough. Despite my anger at that moment, I loved Ma and needed to make it up to her somehow. After we had a long talk.

That was months ago. I miss her more and more each day.

All the festive decorations didn’t help.

Christmas was a time for cheesy songs, gorging on piles of food, and keeping good company. Ma would blast her favorite Christmas carol as she woke me up to open our presents. I took to making us breakfast in recent years. The day was spent happy and full and surrounded by friends and loved ones.

This “Yggsmas” was more like a prolonged parody of everything I missed.

One of the few good things about this world was staring into my eyes at that moment.

About a week after I arrived, I was given another surprise of my life. I had already become accustomed to the comings and goings of the Giantfolk, as much as I hated to admit it. At least enough to manage a nap after cramming fistfuls of a giant crisp. Not the healthiest of meals, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was a cool day and I was content to snuggle inside my jacket and rest for a bit.

“Um, hullo there. Gotta minute to talk, do ye?” a voice asked just as I got comfortable.

I could’ve sworn I was already dreaming. There were many things I expected when I turned my head to answer. More Giantfolk to play for, maybe. A dragon or pigeon looking to share the shade, sure.

But another human being? After days on my own in a giant world?

I almost kissed him right then and there.

He would have to settle for the tightest, longest hug I could’ve mustered instead.

“Heh. Guess ye havne seen another human in a while, huh?” he asked after a moment. He was just as quick to return the embrace, and I almost cried. I thought I was the only human here. I thought I was alone. I thought I’d never see anyone my size again. Never hear a familiar accent that didn’t come from someone who towered over me. “I get it, mate. It’s all right. I’m here. There are other humans here too.”

“Waseem. I’m Waseem McCarthy.” I offered eventually. “Most everyone just calls…called…me Waz.”

“Tylar Fitzgerald. Everyone just calls me Tylar.” he replied.

“Erm, and I’m Georgina Gaogao. Georgie, rather.” a different voice added after a polite cough. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the presence of a Giant nearby but I was still caught off-guard. I let go of Tylar when she offered an awkward wave. “H-hullo.”

I returned the wave and took a step back. There was something obviously up with these two and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t in swiping distance just in case. Tylar earned a side-eye from me as well.

“We just wanna talk to ye, really.” Tylar said, putting his hands up defensively. He took his own step back as well. “We heard ye were here an’ thought ye might need some questions answered, is all.”

“‘We’?” I asked.

“Hullo again!” the Giant named Georgie said, waving once more. Her eyes crinkled with the broad smile she offered. She made sure to slow her movements and kept her hands in plain sight. Her fingers were entwined before she laid them on her lap.

“We can leave if ye want. I just doona…” Tylar began, slowly taking something out of his back pocket. I half expected a knife. The best defense I had was to clonk him with my guitar before I dashed off. Wouldn’t know how far I’d get if Georgie gave chase. It came as almost a relief to see a pamphlet in his hand instead. “I doona wanna leave ye out here without knowin’ what’s what, mate.”

I carefully took the pamphlet and read the front.

WELCOME TO TERGAIA:

WHAT TO EXPECT AS A HUMAN

AND WHAT WE’RE DOING TO CHANGE THINGS

PRESENTED AND DISTRIBUTED BY SAIH

(THE SOCIETY FOR THE ACCEPTANCE AND INTEGRATION OF HUMANS)

“Ter…gaia? What’s ‘Tergaia’?” I asked.

“That’s where we are. This world is Tergaia.” Tylar answered. “Ye may wanna sit down fer this one, mate. It’s a lot to take in.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The pamphlet was brief but still managed to say almost too much. Humans from Earth “Crossed Over” to Tergaia by magical means. Magic. There was magic here. The Giantfolk weren’t just too damn big, they could cast spells too. Wasn’t that just grand? Humans had been popping up here, seemingly randomly, for over 500 years. We were considered similar, if not exactly like, their “dæmons”, ancient enemies to their pantheon. It explained why so many of the Giantfolk…the Tergaians…reacted like I was some roach crossing their path. Others considered us cute and even kept humans as pets. A shiver went down my spine at all of the cooing folks I’d encountered in the days before. Their gentle praises no longer felt awkward yet encouraging but nauseating now.

But worst of all was the news about a way back home.

There wasn’t one.

It took several tries of reading the same paragraph before it sunk in. Something about the veil between worlds protecting itself from humans breaking its magic. Whatever the exact reason, it meant one thing: the door was locked behind us with no key to be found.

I didn’t bother to read the rest of it. What good would it have done? I’d never see my home again.

I’d never see Ma again.

“I know it’s…upsettin’.”

“Why are you even here, bruv?” I asked, trying to hand him back the pamphlet. It looked worn and hand-printed. Almost like it was the only one he had. They had. Whichever.

“Because ye shoodne be out here by yerself an’ confused or scared or anythin’.” Tylar said, pushing the paper back to me. “Ye should know what life is like right now but more important what it CAN be like. We wanna help where-!”

“So, what, are you HER pet or something? Is she forcing you to do this?”

It would be the first time I’d see his frustration rise to the surface. Tight lips, a furrowed brow, and angry huff through his nose.

“No. I volunteered fer this. I wanted to help others like ye. Like us.” he stated. “Ye need time to process this. I get that. We can stay here if ye have questions or just…need someone to yell at.”

I stared at him, waiting for the perfect retort to come to mind. For something, anything, to be said.

Tylar made his way back to the Giant, to Georgie, before a word could escape my lips.

“Look, we can come back tomorrow, or inna few days, to check up on ye. Anything ye wanna ask, or scream, or whatever. In the meantime, will ye at least accept this from us?”

I watched as Georgie slowly extracted something from her pocket and held it out for Tylar to take. It was equal parts disturbing and fascinating to see Tylar effortlessly walk up to her hand and retrieve the item. It would turn out to be a worn but cared for backpack.

“It’s not much-!”

“For right now!” Georgie added quickly. “We’re still gathering donations.”

“But it should help.” Tylar continued. “It’s a pack, and set-up fer a lean-to, and a spare canteen fer water. There’s a box in there ye should get to when ye have the chance.”

Before I could say anything else, he was sitting in a Giant hand, waiting to be picked up. My stomach turned at the sight. I couldn’t imagine doing anything of the sort just then. Not after what I’d read.

I thought for sure I’d never see them again. See him again.

But they returned. The next day, and at least once a week afterwards.

It eventually became a routine to see Tylar at least once a day, if not have him spend the night. At first, it was just us discussing the world we were living in, and SAIH’s attempts at helping change the perspective. Over time it was more about the two of us than about the rest of the world.

Selfish, I know.

“I doona s’pose ye gave it any thought?” Tylar asked softly and cautiously. I loved the sound of his not-quite-right accent and the familiar lilt in his voice. It was more comforting than he knew.

“You need to narrow that down a bit, luv.” I replied, entwining my fingers with his. “There are a lot of things on my mind right now.”

“…Findin’ someplace safer to hunker down fer the winter.”

“Tylar.”

“I know, I know. Ye like yer set-up, ye like bein’ on yer own. But there’s s’posed to be a bad storm in the next few days. Ye know how much I worry about ye.”

“I love that you worry about me. But really, I’ll be fine. I’ve lasted this long out here, haven’t I?”

A giggle was held back as Tylar let out his frustrated huff. It was cute.

“Ye’ve been lucky. REAL lucky.” he admitted after a moment.

It was the understatement of the century.

My first day of being here made me realize just how tough finding food was going to be. The wildlife wasn’t just immense, but they had their own routines. They knew where to find their meals: waiting for those who threw popcorn and bread, scrounging in the bins during the quiet times, or simply hunting other animals in the park. I thought for sure the dragons or other carnivores would try to make a snack out of me. They seemed more interested in other prey or scraps than me, thankfully.

If it hadn’t been for my idle guitar playing and one of the Giantfolk liking my song, I wouldn’t have earned my first sausage roll. From then on, I played for food. Scraps to the Giantfolk were a few meals to me. Sharing what leftovers went bad or I simply couldn’t eat with the other animals seemed to help. They almost never bothered me otherwise.

Even the park employees didn’t bother me after a time. Most of them, again, thought I was something cute to gush over or be amazed at. The park director himself didn’t mind my being there. Not that he went out of his way to show it, but still. Only one of the park attendants seemed especially irked by my presence, and even he was made to stop. For the most part.

Especially after what would turn out to be the chance encounter of a lifetime.

The lady had popped out of the blue one day. I was still under my bench playing when she stumbled over. A bright jumper, a blue bag, messy hair. Didn’t seem out of the ordinary to me. Not that anything was, really, any more.

“Urrrrgh…I am REALLY starting to hate magic…” she grumbled as she laid herself on the ground in front of me. It took her a moment before she realized I was sitting there. “Oh. Hey man. Sorry about that. I uh…can explain. Kinda.”

“Guessing by your accent you’re not from around here, bruv?” I chuckled.

“Oh God no. Bridget Bradley, from New Jersey. USA. Earth.”

“Waseem McCarthy, Killarney, Ireland.”

It would end up being a short chat with me giving her directions towards “civilization” before I went back to my routine. A few hours later, one of the Giantfolk followed suit: popped in, stumbled, laid to rest on my bench. Gave me a shock when he knew an Earth song and repaired my guitar’s strings. Was glad for the food and the spare canteen he offered. Didn’t think much of it, really.

Until a few days later.

“HOW DO YE KNOW THE KING?!” Tylar and Georgie yelled from out of the blue. I nearly jumped 10 feet in the air from their sudden appearance. Georgie always made it a point to announce her presence before kneeling down to “my” level. Tylar was already hopping off her hand when my heart started beating again.

“…Who?” I asked as he ran over to me with a backpack. It was large, and brand new. Definitely a sight better than the one they gave me weeks before. “Nice. New donations, I take it?”

“Well, yes, SAIH received some as well but that one is specifically for you!” Georgie replied, pulling out a letter. She began to read before I could ask why. “‘Dear Miss Gaogao, I want to thank you again for taking the time to talk with me about the Society for the Acceptance and Integration of Humans the other day. You are a passionate and well-informed young woman and I hope to speak with you and your associates soon on the matter properly and more in-depth. My assistant, Miss Cassidy Gabon’ -that’s my cousin- ‘will work with you to schedule a meeting. In the meantime, please accept these donations for your organization as well as this check to help your efforts.’ -it was a TIDY sum, let’s just say- ‘I ask, if it is not too much trouble, to present the specially marked bag for someone I met in Killarney Park. His name is Waseem and he plays a guitar underneath one of the benches. He was a previous recipient of your generosity and mentioned your organization by name. I hope he is familiar enough to you that this will not be an unreasonable favor to ask. I had hoped to do it myself, but I fear royal duties must come first. Thank you once more and best of luck to you and yours, signed King Colm Matthew Alexander Brian Arcadi, FIRST KING OF FATHACH.’”

“I…what? I don’t know anybody named…” I began, claiming the letter attached to the new backpack. The envelope was addressed “To Waseem the Guitarist” in an unfamiliar script. The handwriting was quick but legible. My confusion cleared up the longer I read the note inside.

“Dear Waseem,

I hope this letter and bag of supplies finds you well. I wanted to thank you again for your assistance the other day in Killarney Park. Your song and your directions were a great help to me when we met. I hoped to return the favor once again. While the canteen and the sausage roll may have helped you at that moment, I felt that I needed to show my appreciation in a more sustainable way. Inside this bag you will find plenty of supplies to help you live just a bit more comfortably in this great big world of ours while I try my best to make it more hospitable for all of Fathach’s people, Tergaian and Human alike. There are notes on everything with an explanation for what they can do inside the bag. I would like to point out in particular: the enchanted tent, the barrier protection rope, a set of vaccines, a copy of the Faol Scouts Survival Guide, and most importantly, the Jumper Stone. If ever there is an emergency or you need a warm place to stay or you would like to drop by for a visit, you are more than welcome at Castle Arcadi. Simply squeeze the stone and it will Jump you directly here. I hope you will consider staying in touch using the ImmediaNote pad provided.

Thank you once more and best of luck,

King Colm Matthew Alexander Brian Arcadi

First King of Fathach”

There was a second note written at the end of the page from a different person’s hand.

“P.S. Consider all this stuff from me too, thanks again for everything! Signed, Bridget from NJ”

It took a few times rereading everything for it to sink in.

“…Holy Shit. I know the king.”

That one brief encounter left me with a much better set-up. The tent was warm, sturdy, and big enough to keep me and Tylar comfortable whenever he slept over. The barrier rope kept unwanted creatures at bay when set around the tent. It certainly helped when strangers or a surly park employee came by. There had been more inside the bag than I could’ve guessed, and it helped me feel more…well, not at home. And comfortable didn’t sound right either.

But it certainly didn’t hurt.

“I just doona like ye pushin’ yer luck, is all.” Tylar continued. “If somethin’ happened to ye out here, I…I’d never…”

“It won’t come to that, I promise.” I replied. “Besides, if I’m not here, who’ll make sure Robin gets fed?”

“Robin is a fox who can feed himself. Ye doona have to keep makin’ excuses fer stayin’ out here.”

“I’m not making excuses.”

“Arne ye? Why else woodne ye wanna be under a real roof fer a lil’ while?”

“Why won’t you tell me where you were born?”

It was a cheap shot. I knew it. He knew it. I hated saying it. He hated hearing it. But it was the only way I knew to change the subject. It wasn’t the first time I asked the question, but it was always something Tylar avoided answering. His accent, while familiar, always threw me off. I thought for certain he was Irish. But it also sounded too much like the “Fathish” accent the Giantfolk had. I don’t know why it was important to me.

I just knew I needed closure one way or the other.

“…Stop tryin’ to deflect, arsehole.” he countered instead.

“I’m just asking-!”

“Um, Tylar? Waz? Are you down there?” Georgie called out from outside the tent. “If you’re staying the night, I just need to know now. I don’t want to be stuck in the Yggsmas market crowds again.”

Tylar was up and getting his boots on in an instant.

“I’ll be right there, Georgie!” he yelled out as he buttoned his coat. Tylar tried to keep his voice steady as he continued talking. “Look, I like ye a lot, Waz. I do. An’ I doona wanna see ye out here alone again. But if yer gonna keep tryin’ to push me away, one of these days I may decide it’s not worth it to push back.”

“Tylar, wait, you don’t-!”

“I’ll see ye tomorrow, Waz. Maybe. Ye’ve got yer Jumpers if ye need them. Or at least head fer that temple up the road a few blocks. They’ve started letting humans in to hunker down too.”

He was out of the tent before I could stop him.

I did want to stop him.

Really I did.

But he didn’t understand.

I tried being around the Giantfolk. Truly I did. During my first weeks in the park, I’d wandered farther than usual. I ran into a pair of park attendants as they were leaving from their break room. One went back in to grab something “fer the lil’ fella tuh eat” while the other kept watch on me. He tried to make conversation. Condescendingly, and almost like I was some stray he was trying to keep calm rather than another person. I tried to say something. Even when he offered me the biggest chip butty with malt vinegar I’d ever seen in my life. I was tempted. But all kinds of thoughts came to mind as I stared at the plate of food. Was this a good faith offering? Was it a trap? Would he swat me to the ground before I stepped closer?

Robin saved me from making a decision.

The fox liked to follow me around on my walks. Knew I could be relied on for scraps if he needed them. He grabbed the sandwich and dashed off in the other direction. It diverted the Giants’ attention while I scarpered off into the dusk and shadows.

Even when I was invited to the Yggsmas market opening with Tylar, Georgie, and her cousin Cassidy, I tried. At the end of November, after their “Fall’s End Festival”, the public square was cleared and sectioned off. The market was set-up in the middle of the park, full to bursting with vendors of all sorts: seasonal food stalls, artisans, carolers, and more. The usual buskers moved there as well, hoping to earn some extra coin in the crowds. The smells and sights and sounds should have helped put me to ease. Despite the occasional stare. Sitting on Cassidy’s shoulder, any Giantfolk shoulder, was disorienting, but I’d managed. Even from up high, there was a lot to take in.

“I’m going to find the gaudiest, most ridiculous thing this market has to offer even if it kills me.” Georgie had stated when we passed under the elaborately decorated entrance.

“Georgie, Auntie Mo is not worth all this effort.” Cassidy sighed. She had visited with Georgie and Tylar a time or two, and seemed alright with my being on her shoulder. It took some getting used to on my end. Literally and metaphorically. The light freckles against her dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight.

“Auntie Mo gave me a damn sock for Yggsmas last year because she thought I’d like the color scheme and tried to explain it away as a ‘heartfelt and handmade’ gift. She is getting the worst ‘Fuck You’ knick-knack I can find.”

“Georgie-!”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to do the same. What’d she get you last year, paint thinner?”

“It was her home brewed perfume.”

“For Caduceus’ Sake, how can you NOT want to throw that back in her face somehow?”

“…Maybe I can find her a scented candle she’ll hate.”

“That’s the Yggsmas spirit!”

As we perused the booths, I did my best to enjoy myself. There were plenty of trinkets and art and toys to admire. Plushies ranged from teddy bears to dragons to unicorns. Porcelain dolls dressed in their Yggsmas best sat next to wooden lawn decorations. There were a few food stalls and drink cotes littered among the artisan vendors. From what I saw, it was almost like the Christmas markets from home.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t home.

And I didn’t want it to be.

I tried to be good company for their sake, but it wasn’t the same.

If I kept my distance, if I stayed an outsider…I would never have to get used to this place. Would never have to fully accept that this was my life now.

I could keep pretending there was a chance I’d see Ma again.

The best way to keep the bad thoughts at bay was just to play. Maybe I’d be able to earn some more “Yggsmas” treats before the night really settled in. By the time I’d climbed the elaborate metalwork that constructed the bench, the sun was just setting. There was still a good 30 minutes before the lamps and decorations were lit, and people still walked the paths. Many were coming to and from the market for their last-minute shopping. According to the Tergaian calendar I had, it was Yggsmas Eve. And Christmas eve. It still amazed me how some things coincided with Earth, like the names of the days and months, and even some of the holidays.

“-and make sure they’re set properly. Iansa could send her winter storm any day now and I won’t have the park paths unusable.” a voice said as I settled into my spot on the bench. The top of the bench’s back should have scared me, and at times it did, but it was the best way to be seen and avoid getting hit in the face by windblown leaves or trash. For the most part. “After that you can – Oh, good evening.”

I gave the park director a wave before I started playing “Silent Night”. The man was polite enough, and didn’t mind my playing for scraps. Even before the King had sent him a letter about me as well. He almost treated me like any of the other Giantfolk buskers that worked the park. If he had any doubts about my living under a bench, they were gone in the wake of the King’s praises.

“You can head home for the night afterwards.” he continued, his attention back to the park attendant. It was just my luck it was Rogers, the only park employee to outright hate me. I tried to ignore him. He had been pretty hostile when I first arrived. And he still held on to that resentment, despite the manager and the King’s letter. “Good night, and Happy Yggsmas.”

“Right on, sir. Happy Yggsmas to you too, sir.” Rogers replied as cheerily as he could. A sneer returned as soon as the manager left down the path. He spit in my direction but went about his work. Kneeling down he placed his hands on one of the park’s crystal rocks. There was at least one placed between all the benches. When I first arrived, I thought they were some kind of art piece or memorial. Something to give the park style, maybe. Rogers was about to demonstrate how wrong that original assumption was. “Heat.”

The crystal gave a faint glow at the sound of the spell.

Magic was real here. The Giantfolk knew magic and it didn’t even seem like that big a deal to them. The first time I saw it, I hadn’t realized what I was looking at. One of the regular performers at the park was a street magician. I’d stopped to watch during my initial trek around the new, too-big world. He did the usual tricks: guessed at cards, pulled an “endless” string of handkerchiefs from his hand, and the like. Despite my best effort, I had been spotted by the street magician. He barely flinched, however, and found a way to incorporate me into his act, if only for a moment. With a series of hand gestures and simple words, he managed to turn a single flower into a bouquet, from something that barely fit into his arms only for it to somehow appear in mine instantly. I almost dropped the flowers the second they appeared in my hand. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have been. After the applause ended, he retrieved the flowers without ever bending down or reaching for them. He simply gave a nod and returned to his work, leaving me awestruck.

Magical Giantfolk. Who would’ve thought?

Rogers muttered a few more spells into the crystal before he continued on his way. He spit once more as he passed me. I gave him a certain hand gesture in return. Rogers would’ve retaliated, I was certain, if other Giantfolk hadn’t arrived. The pair sat on my bench, warm drinks in hand, and actually seemed interested to hear what I had to play. Earth holiday music was just different enough to Tergaian songs that many found it, well, a novelty to hear. I’d been practicing their Yggsmas carols thanks to a portable wireless set I was given, but usually stuck to what I already knew.

Within a few hours, I’d managed to earn a piece of peppermint bark and a veggie tart. It was a good haul. I would’ve loved to share it with someone. I wished Tylar was there. I wished Ma was there…

Oh Ma.

What were you doing right then? Where you sick with worry? Angry? Did you miss me as much as I missed you? After what I’d said…did you miss me at all?

“OH YGGBÍL, OH YGGBÍL, HOW LOVELY ARE THY BRANCHES!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” I grumbled. The carolers had come back around. It wasn’t the first time that day, let alone in the last few weeks, that they insisted on singing near my bench. There was usually a “code” among the buskers and street performers: don’t overlap on another’s turf, especially when you had similar “shows”. The only upside was knowing I wasn’t the only one the group had been intruding on. I know the park director had to reprimand them for intruding on others’ acts. If the performers hadn’t chased them off themselves, in their own way. I knew for a fact they were pursued by a flock of the magician’s doves the first time they tried singing near him. The downside being, well, their Giantfolk voices always managed to drown out my songs no matter how much I tried. One voice got lost in a chorus of many, after all.

I was ready to call it a night when the Giant man sat down on my bench.

He wore a dark red coat that matched his flat cap, with white accents throughout his outfit. It certainly looked like the typical holiday fashion I’d spotted throughout that day. Even the inconsiderate carolers were dressed in Yggsmas colors. The man set his bag down beside him and got comfortable. The carolers took this as a good sign and focused their attention on him, ramping up their song.

“Excuse me, but isn’t it rude trying to sing over another performer?” he asked in a strong tone. “I can’t hear the young man play.”

The carolers, for once in their lives, were stunned. Some grumbled and others shot a dirty look or two, but started down the path towards the market. They picked up their song and were out of earshot soon enough.

“Got any requests, bruv? I’ll do my best.” I asked once we were settled again. There was no way I was going to leave without offering something in return.

“I wouldn’t mind something bittersweet, if you can manage.” the man sighed, leaning back against the bench. Strands of tinsel were intwined in the dreadlocks he swept over his shoulder. “It would just be nice to not hear Yggsmas songs for a little while.”

“Say no more. I think you’ll like this one.”

It was an oldie but a goodie, and one I knew by heart. God forbid it should happen, but if ever I lost my hands, I was sure I could still play the tune with my feet. It was one of the first songs I ever learned to play.

It was the first song I ever played for Ma.

“Do you know what Yggsmas is supposed to be about, lad?” he asked after a while.

“Something about…a tree? Ygg…something. I don’t remember the whole thing. Sorry. I know it’s important.”

“Would you like a summary, young man?”

“All right.”

“It’s the day our Mother Tree, Yggbíl, sprouted into existence. Light and warmth came into the world at her arrival. It would take her 7 days before she grew her first fruit, the first forms of life.” he explained, staring off into the distance. His attention turned to the decorations all around us. “Yggsmas is a celebration of her birth, so to speak, and to remind us there is still light and life to be found even during the darkest and coldest times. The year is started off with noise and resolutions to encourage new beginnings and to chase away past regrets.”

The similarity to Christmas and New Year’s celebrations was both comforting and distressing.

“But when you start to really think about the ‘reason for the season’…it’s hard not to get a little cynical around the holidays. Yggbíl’s first fruit…they were what we call the dæmons. They were her first attempt at life, but…she was too young. She wasn’t strong enough to keep them on her branches to grow. They fell before they were ready. And once they hit the ground, well…it wasn’t good.”

He heaved a great sigh and closed his eyes. It was almost like he needed a moment to collect himself. Maybe he was a teacher or a theologian who had lectured this same lesson countless times to students. Probably the first time in a long time to have someone interested in what he had to say. I wasn’t there to judge. Just trying to earn some bread. Literally.

“With no magic of their own, without that needed connection to their Mother Tree, the dæmons rampaged across the land. Maybe it was out of anger, or pain, or…loneliness. They lashed out until Yggbíl was strong enough to create the gods who would defeat them. Or at least, to keep them contained. Many think of it as a good thing, a job well done. Divine triumph and so on. But…was it? The dæmons never asked to be born. They didn’t know how life would be for them in their…imperfect forms. They just wanted to live. How can anyone blame them for trying to survive?”

“…is that why you Giantfolk see us as demons too? Because we’re not…magic or connected or whatever?”

“Another thing I don’t understand. This world isn’t exactly logical sometimes.”

I snorted. I hadn’t meant to, but it came out. My grip tightened on my guitar just in case I needed to make a mad dash for it. I had experience making my way down the bench by then, it would’ve been easy. It was just a matter of being faster than the Giantfolk. It, unfortunately, wouldn’t have been the first time I needed to make a quick escape.

The man’s gentle laugh was a relief.

“Understatement of the century, lad.” he chuckled. I kept playing the bittersweet song he requested, almost on a loop. Not that anyone would have known the difference. The calm mood was broken soon enough. “Something on your mind, son?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought I was the only one feeling melancholy tonight but you seem a bit down yourself.”

There was a part of me that wanted to lie. To ignore the feeling and just keep playing.

“…understatement of a lifetime, bruv.”

“I don’t mind listening if you don’t mind talking about it. You did just hear me prattle on after all.”

I turned towards the Giant, hoping to shrug it all off. Talking about your personal struggle with someone who saw you as some party trick wasn’t exactly a good idea. But as I locked eyes with him, there was just something about him. It could’ve been the earnest look of interest he wore. Or the pair of scars on his cheeks that interested me. Or maybe I just needed a stranger I’d never see again to lend an ear.

“I…I miss home.”

It was enough for everything to start pouring out.

“I mean…I guess most of us, most humans, miss home. Everyday. It’s not like I’m the only one. It’s just…the last person I saw before…before I ‘Crossed Over’…was Ma. We had a fight about…it doesn’t matter. I was being stupid. I was upset over…over something I probably shouldn’t have been, really. I said…I said something…something awful to her before I left and…and now I’ll n-never…I’ll never get to apologize. Because I’m here. I’m stuck HERE and I can’t make it up to her and we’ll never see each other again. I’d…I’d give anything to j-just…to just be able to tell her I was sorry. Or to take it all back like…like it never even happened. I just wish I had a chance to make it right.”

The tears ran down my cheeks without my knowing it. I tried my best to wipe them away but my efforts weren’t enough.

“Sorry bruv, you don’t…this isn’t what you’re here for. I can keep playing…”

“Here.” the man softly said, offering something from his enormous hand. Laying on a fingertip was a handkerchief. When I picked it up, begrudgingly, I saw it was embroidered with an elaborate “C” in the corner. “Take your time, lad.”

I’m afraid to admit it took longer to calm down than I wanted. Once I was all cried out, I made to give the handkerchief back to the man. The man waved my attempts off.

“Yggsmas is…it’s an awful lot like Christmas back home. Not the exact same reasons but…close enough. And same ways to celebrate. Gifts, and songs, and food, and fam…family. This’ll be the first Christmas away from home…away from Earth…and away from Ma. I can’t stop thinking of what’s happening back home. Did Ma decorate this year? Is she alone? Does she…does she think I’m dead? It’s…it’s hard, that’s all.”

My fingers brushed against my guitar strings but no song came to mind. Even strumming random chords felt out of place. The energy was gone.

“I can only imagine what you must be feeling.” the man stated, breaking the silence. “If it were possible, I’d make sure every human who wanted to return to Earth would.”

The sentiment was appreciated. And needed. But I couldn’t help but get hung up on the odd phrasing. “Every human who wanted to”. What human would want to stay here if given the chance to go home?

“Did…does your mother have a favorite ‘Chrizmush’ song? Or a tradition you associate with her?”

“…yeah. Of course.” I replied eventually.

“Think of it before you go to sleep tonight. It may just help.” he stated, rummaging around in his bag. He pulled out a package and studied it carefully. “Don’t suppose these guitar strings would be of any use, would they?”

“They’re practically perfect, bruv.” I answered as he held the package up for me to inspect. “They seem like premium strings though. I’d feel bad if you had to give them up for lil’ ol’ me.”

“You don’t ‘give up’ gifts, you present them.” he stated, shrinking the package down in a flash and holding it out once more. I was less hesitant to accept something from his immense hand this time.

“Thanks, bruv. And…thanks for listening.”

“This world can be illogical and hostile towards you and your kind. It won’t be an easy life here. Please try to keep in mind, there is kindness too, when it decides to show itself. I know it’s not much, but I hope it’s a small comfort for you. Have a good night, and Merry Christmas, Waseem.”

“Happy Yggsmas, mister.”

…Wait.

Did I tell him my name?

The Giant man was already gone before I turned to face him.

I was already making my descent down the bench when I heard the carolers returning. If they were so determined to sing that night, they could have the spot. They’d be gone by the day after. Might as well let others drive them off in my stead.

As I touched the ground, a series of loud sniffles caught my attention. Standing tall and gangly, his scarred nose searching around him, was a fox I knew all too well. Robin was a friend, in a way, since my first days in the park. I came across him on my travels around the park one day. The fox had gotten himself caught in something while snapping at a badger. I was scared at first, but it didn’t seem right to let the poor tod not have a fair fight. Especially when the striped bastard took a swipe at his face. I managed to get his leg free before anything more could happen. Afterwards, he seemed to follow me whenever I walked around the park or managed an overload of food for the day.

“Hey there, Robin.” I called out. The massive fox took a few sniffs my way and got excited. He yipped a few times before he turned his attention to the scraps on the ground. “Go on, boy. All for you. I’m good for the night.”

Robin set to eating the leftover bark and tart right then and there. I turned to enter my tent when I felt his nose on my back. The first few times he had done so, I was terrified. I thought for sure he decided mouse-sized meant mouse-meal too. It took a while to realize he was trying to be friendly. I gave him his now-expected pats and scratches before too many people stopped by. Once there were more Giantfolk than scraps, he dashed off into the night.

It was hard getting to sleep that night. The wireless played as I tried to doze off. The Yggsmas carols were comforting but disconcerting. They were strange and familiar and out of place but recognizable all at once. After a while, I gave up and turned it off. As I rolled over, a hand instinctively reached out for Tylar. Nights were easier when he was around. Days were easier. Life was easier. I’d have to find some way to make it up to him, too. If ever he decided to come back.

Ma would’ve known what to say. She was always good with these sorts of things. God knows she put her foot in her mouth enough times through the years. Ma always found some way to patch things up in the end.

Oh Ma.

I miss you more than you know.

The Giant’s suggestion soon came to mind. What harm could it have done?

I began humming the first verse softly to myself before letting the lyrics pour out. It was Ma’s way of waking me up on Christmas Day if I hadn’t rushed into her bedroom first. We were born and raised in the town it was named for, after all. It was a cheesy song, but it was her favorite. I wasn’t even halfway done before I finally felt drowsiness overcome me.

Maybe there was an expectation to relive old memories. To remember the good times from days past and hope that would be enough.

What I didn’t expect was to find myself home again.

Everything seemed as it ever was: worn but carefully maintained furniture, knick-knacks dotting the mantel alongside family photos, and the smell of something absolutely delicious in the oven. A Christmas tree sat in its usual spot in a corner, decorated but barely. In fact, there were fewer decorations than usual. Enough to celebrate, but only just. I took a chance and carefully walked from the living room to look into the kitchen. Standing at the sink, her face towards her task, was a short, squat woman with graying red hair tied into a braid.

It was her.

It was really her.

“Ma?”

The figure stood still for a moment. She almost seemed ready to turn around, but thought against it. The dishwashing continued instead. I took a cautious step forward, crossing the checkered linoleum until I stood next to her. Even then, she kept her eyes to the sink.

She slowly handed me a plate, still wet but clean from her scrubbing.

I took the drying towel, which hung from a handle nearby, and started drying. Just like I used to do every night after dinner.

The silence was overwhelming and tense but…it was Ma. It was home. I couldn’t be happier.

Now if only she’d talk to me.

“I’m sor-!”

“I’m so sorry, Waseem.” she stated quickly. There was a moment as we both tried to process what was said. She breathed a sigh of relief soon enough. “I mean it. I’m sorry I said what I said and did what I did.”

“I’m sorry too.” I replied. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry. It wasn’t worth-!”

“Don’t you lie to me, Waz.” she interrupted, handing me a bowl. “You know damn well you had every right to be angry. Don’t tell tales just to make me feel better. I raised-! …That is, you know better than that.”

As I wiped down the bowl, I tried to think of something to say. Months to think about how I wanted this conversation to go, thinking I had every possible angle planned…and I was still drawing a blank.

“…You’re right. I was angry. And it WAS my right to be angry. But that doesn’t mean I should’ve…I shouldn’t’ve said you weren’t my real mum.”

The silence was tense as we continued to clean and dry and set the various dishes into the drying rack.

“…Ma? Why didn’t you ever tell me about them?”

She hesitated. For a long time, there was only her washing the same platter. I thought for sure I’d never hear her speak again.

“Amina never wanted them to get their hands on you.” Ma finally said, handing me the next piece to dry. “Her family was…there was a reason she eloped, and a reason she left him, and a reason she stayed with me.”

“Because she loved you.”

“Aheh. Yes. Because she loved me. Because she loved you. And because Amina knew they’d do everything in their power to take you from her.” she explained. A soft smile crossed her face at the memory. I never knew my birth mother, but Ma did. She started to tear up soon enough. “I’m so stupid. I should…I should have told you ages ago. I failed her. I failed you. I failed in ways I never meant to.”

“Ma, you didn’t. I promise. You did your best and I turned out alright. Mostly.”

“I said I’d always protect you and…and I couldn’t even do that. I wanted to make sure you were never called…that word…for as long as I could. But I couldn’t stop that Calvin from when we lived in London, could I?”

“…The first time I was called that was when I was 9. By Cousin Bentley. But I settled it right away.” I explained. There was still that terrible feeling all over just remembering it. That lump in the pit of my stomach, the racing of my heart, the ache of someone I knew hurting me so deep. That first time I heard my rat-faced cousin call me that, it was like a slap in the face. “I mean, you didn’t really believe he slipped and got his face stuck to the table with his model glue on accident, right?”

“…What.”

“Ma. C’mon.”

“What.”

“There was a reason I gave him bottles of glue for his birthday and Christmas. It took him a few years to get the point, but he apologized. I promise.”

“That little son of a bitch.”

“Ma, that’s your sister. What’s past is past.” I said, trying to calm her down. Her ears were turning as red as her hair. She was ready to blow like a kettle if she lingered on the thought for too long. “Calvin got what he deserved too, remember. I’d still like to shake the hand of the guy who beat his ass though. Never did figure that out, did we?”

It came as a surprise to feel Ma slip her hand into mine instead of another plate. The realization only dawned on me when she started to shake our hands up and down.

“Ma.”

“That chav cunt had it coming.”

“MA.”

“I wasn’t about to let him get away with letting those words fall out of his mouth. He’s lucky his teeth didn’t follow close behind.”

“Ma, he went to hospital! Had stitches and, what, a broken rib? How’d you avoid going to jail for assaulting a kid?!”

“A teen!”

“STILL!”

“I told his mum if she tried to file charges, I’d tell her husband about all the comings and goings from her house while he was at work.”

“…Holy shit, how’d you know she was cheating on him?!”

“I didn’t. she just assumed I knew something.” Ma chuckled, a smile returning to her face. She set down the teapot she was trying to clean. “God Above, but this was a good dream.”

“Ma?” I asked gently, trying to catch her eyes again. They had remained on our task the whole time. Never once did she turn her head. Not even try to see me from the corner of her eye.

“I’ve had it before, you know. At least once a week since you disappeared. Rightly disappeared, even. No one but that mental Missus Wilson saw you just…vanish. They wouldn’t believe me when I tried to explain. Everyone thinks you just took off and I was having a mental break or something.”

I just kept drying the same bowl, waiting for her to continue.

“Every time, you would call ‘Ma’, and every time I would turn to see you. And…and every time you would just…just disappear again. I thought maybe this time if I didn’t turn, if I concentrated on just…just washing the dishes, you’d be able to stay. For good. Forever.”

“What makes you think this is a dream this time?” I asked, more to myself than her. It all felt very real. Maybe I was home. Maybe I was back to the life I knew and loved and Ma would be alright. We would be alright.

But…that meant Tylar would be gone too…

“You remember this teapot?”

I looked at the one she held. It was familiar. More than familiar, actually. It was one I had made for her in a ceramics class. It was a simple, ordinary shaped pot but brightly colored and covered in garden flowers and bugs.

“I broke it during our move back to Killarney from London. I hadn’t meant to but…I still did. I glued it back together but told myself it would stay in a special place from then on. But here it is, all in one piece. Like I’d never dropped the damn thing.”

Tears started coming down her face. And seeing her cry just made me want to cry too.

“I want to stay, Ma. I never would’ve left if…if it meant I would never see you again.” I explained. She choked up at the thought, and the tears ran like rivers. “I miss you so much. All I want is to come home.”

“Oh God, you’re dead. You’re dead and…and…”

“No, no, I’m alive. But where I am…I don’t think I can make it back. I want to. It’s…it’s not much of a life but…I did meet somebody. I think you’d like him. But it’s not the same. And…I want you to know, all right? Every day I think of you, and miss you, and want to be home. Please remember that: I love you Ma, and I always will.”

Ma finally turned to face me. Streak marks were already showing up on her cheeks from the tears. Her eyes were red, and wide, and searching, and desperate, and the deep green I knew and loved. When she saw I was still there, she dropped the teapot into the sink. With a speed I never would’ve expected from her, she reached for me.

“Maybe if I hold on to you this time…maybe you’ll stay…” she explained, wrapping her arms around me.

I didn’t argue.

I wanted it to be true, too.

I returned her embrace. It was the tightest hug. It was the best hug. It was the longest hug.

It would be the last hug we’d give each other.

The tears were already falling before I woke up.

I heaved great big sobs, just letting the emotions wash over me.

I had gotten my wish after all.

It took ages for me to stop, and to calm down. It felt like swimming in a whirlpool of relief and sorrow. Ma knew I was alive. I knew she was all right. We’d had our say, no matter how short it was.

What was next?

“Apologize to Tylar, for one thing…” I mumbled to myself. He deserved that, and more, but it would be a start. I didn’t know how I would make it up to him, but I knew I had to. I hadn’t been the best boyfriend the last few days. If he came to visit today, I’d make him feel as special as I knew him to be.

It was as I was getting dressed that I finally noticed something odd.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Checking the time, it was a little after 7 am. At the very least, there should’ve been the cooing of pigeons or growling of dragons or other signs of wildlife. Maybe the thundering of joggers and runners as they made their way down the path. Something had to be wrong. I was cautious, slowly unzipped the tent flap, and peeked outside.

The world was pitch black.

“Oh no…” I muttered. I let the tent flap fall back in place as I reached for a spare lantern. It took a few tries to get the damned thing lit. The crystal chip inside gave off a strong glow on the third try. When I went to inspect the outside, my worst fears were confirmed. In the bright light, I could see exactly what caused the darkness: snow.

The storm had come early.

The bench was surrounded by walls of snow. I could only imagine how bad the outside looked in comparison. The Giantfolk could write it off as only a meter at best. To me, down here, it was enough to cover a house at least. Some of the flakes still trickled in through the bench slots above, but barely. There was a light dusting on the ground but the walls worried me the most.

I was trapped.

A cautious testing of the snow proved it was solid enough. Maybe. Even if I had a shovel, digging myself out sounded like a bad idea. There was no telling if I’d cause an avalanche or a cave-in during my attempts. Worse yet, with it being a Giantfolk holiday, who knew when someone would walk by. I was on my own for this.

I needed time to think.

Packing up was my first priority. Everything, with the exception of a few key items and my guitar, made it into the special backpack. Apparently, it had a spell on it that made it bigger on the inside. More than convenient, if you asked me. Especially when it came to stuffing my favorite blanket inside. It was a handmade, knitted gift from one of my “regulars”. She was a sweet old lady who appreciated good music when she heard it. It wasn’t something I wanted to leave behind. Using the lantern, I double-checked the area. The snow was packed all around, creating an unintentional igloo without an entrance.

I stared at the stone chip in my hand. It was part of that very first donation from Tylar and Georgie. He explained it was part of something called a Jumper Stone. The SAIH folks didn’t have the resources for full working stones to distribute, but the stones and crystals could still hold magic when broken apart. Inconvenient for the Giantfolk, but adequate for us humans. I was warned it would be a one-shot deal though, and to use it wisely. It would teleport me to wherever Georgie and Tylar lived.

“Here I come, Tylar.” I muttered as I squeezed the chip.

I don’t know what I was expecting. A “whoosh”? The ground dropping away from me? Every atom of my being to tear apart and mesh again?

What I didn’t expect…was failure.

The stone chip did nothing as I tried squeezing it over and over.

“Ok, that’s…that’s fine. Just use the other one.”

The other one was, as Georgie explained, a proper Jumper Stone. Shrunken down, of course, but much better than just a chip. This one in particular was of the highest grade, capable of multiple “Jumps” if needed. It was the one from the king’s gift package. The one that would bring me far away to the king’s castle.

I admit, I hesitated taking it out of its box.

“It’s…it’s fine. You’ll be fine. It’s an open invitation, and it’s not like you’re moving into the place. You just need to interrupt the king of a Giant country on a Giant world on an important national Giant holiday so you don’t suffocate to death under a snow bank.”

With a deep breath, I squeezed and hoped for the best.

What I got was…not the best.

“…What the Hell is going on?” I said, squeezing the stone over and over again. It took a moment to notice the note stuck inside stone’s carrying case.

It read:

“This Jumper Stone will bring you straight to Castle Arcadi when squeezed. Be sure to recharge it by setting it under sunlight or in water or buried under the earth. Do this once a week for anywhere between 1 hour to 6 hours for a full charge.”

“Shit.”

I’d kept both the chip and the stone hidden away in their boxes for the last few weeks.

“SHIT!”

The swears and insults came fast and loud. I couldn’t help it. I was doomed. How was anyone supposed to find me in time? Was this really how I was going to die? Underneath a park bench in the middle of nowhere? On Christmas?!

That’s when the walls started caving in.

“AH!”

Well, one wall.

“What the-?!”

Well, part of a wall.

The snow came crashing down and I was running in the opposite direction in an instant. I thought for sure the entire structure would fall from the sudden force. The other walls managed to stay in place however. The snow must have been packed well enough to keep them steady.

I turned to face my savior.

YIP YIP

“Robin!” I yelled as the fox dug his way through. He shook himself free of the snow in his fur before sniffing his way towards me. I gave him his usual pats in appreciation. “Oh, thank God for you, you mangy ol’ tod you.”

Robin didn’t seem interested in the pats or the insults for long. He sniffed his way around the area, making paw prints in the snow. My guess was he heard my voice and hoped some of the usual scraps could be found too. He gave another yip before he made his way out from under the bench. I didn’t blame him.

We both had other places to be.

Heading towards Georgie and Tylar would’ve been a good idea. Crossing the market space probably would’ve been easier with everyone elsewhere for the day. And, naturally, it would’ve been quite the surprise for them to see me turn up on their doorstep.

If only I knew where their doorstep was.

Georgie mentioned an apartment near the university, but I didn’t know what building let alone an apartment number. Who knew if she and Tylar hadn’t left to visit her family already?

I couldn’t risk it.

I decided to head north, towards the Giantfolk temple. Tylar said they were letting humans hole up in their halls for the winter, after all. Hopefully they’d find me in a few days or weeks. The idea of not seeing Tylar again for a long time hurt. But I couldn’t stay.

It took a bit of effort to climb out of the hole Robin made. When I reached the top of the snow bank, I was surprised at what I saw. Mostly confused, truthfully. The storm had clearly hit, the piles of snow were evidence of that. But the usual walking path and benches looked like the oddest chess board imaginable. Every other bench was covered and piled over like mine had been, while others were mostly clear. The path randomly had clear patches of road among packed snow and ice. A barely made trail zig-zagged through the patchwork snow piles. There must have been at least a few Giantfolk who had the guts to traverse the blizzard’s aftermath.

“HOW IN CADUCEUS’ NAME COULD YOU SCREW UP THIS BADLY, ROGERS?!” a familiar voice bellowed as I slid down to the ground. Coming my way was the park director with Rogers close behind him. It was quite the sight to see them carefully making their way down the trampled trail. “YOU HAD JUST BETTER HOPE NO ONE HAS FALLEN OR FROZEN TO DEATH IN ALL OF THIS!”

“Sir, forgive me, you have to believe me, this could never happen unless-!” Rogers began, stammering out his excuses. He spotted me soon enough, and pointed an accusing finger. “Unless something messed with the crystals! It had to be him, he’s here all the time! Done it to make me look bad, I know it! Nasty little díbeartach shouldn’t be squatting-!”

Something snapped. I wasn’t going to be insulted with Giantfolk slurs, and I wasn’t going to take false accusations.

“OH YEAH, YOU FOUND ME OUT! I DID IT SO I COULD BE BURIED UNDERNEATH THE SNOW AND DIE OF ASPHYXIATION AND HYPOTHERMIA! HOW DID YOU EVER GUESS?! FUCKING MORON.” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“How dare you-!”

“ENOUGH!” the director interrupted quickly. “Even IF he damaged the crystals, WHICH I DOUBT, it would still fall on you for not casting the proper spells to reinforce them! I had you maintain them all week for this reason! Now go grab a shovel from the equipment shed, and clear this all up the Gan-Bhrí way if you want to keep your job!”

Rogers, thankfully, clammed up and followed the suggestion. I wouldn’t miss him, that was for sure. Maybe in time, he would be a little humbler.

But I doubted it.

“…And where are you off to?” the park director asked. He had noticed my walking away from the bench. “The area should be clear soon enough.”

“Actually, I, um, I think I’m going to find somewhere else to uh…stay. Until the snow melts, anyway.” I found myself replying. The look on his face was…well, it was a surprise. He looked almost crestfallen at the news. It wasn’t something I was expecting from any of the Giantfolk.

“Oh. Will you be back?”

I wasn’t certain why I felt it was important to answer his question. Let alone sincerely.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. I mean, if you don’t mind me coming back, bruv.”

“As long as I’m director, you’ll always be welcome. I do admit, I will miss your songs. Your bench will be waiting for you when you return. Safe travels, lad.”

“Thanks. Happy Yggsmas, bruv.”

It took some time to make it to the park entrance. I stopped to take breaks along the trampled snow path. I managed to catch sight of Robin along the way. He was hopping through the snow, much like when he dove into the snow to free me. Not that he saw it, but I waved my goodbye as he passed. Hopefully he would be here when I came back. Life was going to be a struggle for the both of us. I was lucky that what few Giantfolk I crossed along the way stopped to let me pass or made sure to carefully step over me. It was terrifying, to say the least.

But not as terrifying as reaching the public street.

Flashbacks to that first time came rushing as I reached the curb. Doubts flooded in again as I looked around. There would be immense horses pulling carts or carrying riders. The other side of the pavement felt like a kilometer away just looking at it. The Giant guard standing in the crosswalk didn’t help matters either. She seemed to be directing traffic as best she could while the main road was blocked off. A Yggsmas parade perhaps? It was hard to tell and I wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing. I had a goal in mind. When the light changed, I screwed up all my courage and made a mad dash.

Screaming all the way.

I didn’t even make it half way before I had to stop.

“A bit dramatic there, doona ye think?” the Giant guard asked when I stopped. Her eyes were still on her job as I caught my breath. I waited by her, until she gave the all clear to cross again. As I set off, screaming again, she made one last comment. “…Humans. Pfft.”

One corner down at least.

The pavement was manageable enough. There were Giantfolk out, making their way to wherever they needed to be. I kept to the curbside, just in case. Most of the stores were closed, thankfully. I couldn’t imagine making the trek with a large crowd.

“Oh shit, what’s the spring going to look like coming back?” I mumbled to myself as I reached the next corner. The temple was getting closer in sight, thankfully. The street was a little too busy for my liking this time. So, I did something I never thought I’d do.

I took a chance and asked for Giantfolk help.

“Erm, excuse me, miss?” I called out to the Giant next to me. She was dressed to the nines with leather and spikes. Colored appropriately for the holiday, of course. It took all I had not to swat at the jingle bells hanging off of her boot laces. The over-sized crock pot she carried was sure to have something delicious inside. “Think you can help a fella out?”

“How’s that, m’man?” she chuckled once she caught sight of me.

“I, um…I don’t suppose you’d mind if I crossed the road with you? I don’t think I can make it on my own in time.”

“Doona think I can carry ye an’ me pot at the same time.”

“What if I…what if I rode from down here instead?” I asked, staring at her boots. There were enough belts and buckles on them after all. They had to be good for hand and foot holds, right? I took the chance and climbed onto the side of her boot, swatting a bell in the process. “I’ll hop off as soon as we reach the curb. Sound all right?”

“All right by me, mate. Hang on tight, aye? Here we go!”

She did her best to keep her footfalls slow and steady. The rise and fall of each boot was intense. It was like riding some slapped together carnival ride where you just heard several screws come undone. I was grateful of course, but as soon as we reached the other side I hopped off.

“Thanks again, bruv!” I yelled out, waving a quick goodbye. I took a moment to catch my breath against a lamppost. “Holy shit, I am never doing that again.”

The next corner would be the last one I needed to cross.

The road was busier this time, with carts and wagons and carriages and riders practically filling the street. The temple was a busy place to be, it seemed. It felt more like a taxi stop in front of a train station. Many people were being picked up and dropped off, or directed to park somewhere else. I wasn’t sure if I would make it across by myself again.

“Da, look!” a voice called out from above.

I dreaded to turn my head, but turn it I did. The Giant kid had his eyes on me. Ignoring him wasn’t an option. If I didn’t keep on my toes, I would be grabbed. Kids attempted it before in the park. Why would here be any different?

“Yes kiddo, a human. Leave him be now. We have to cross the street, all right?” the father gently said. He had another child in his arms while the curious boy held onto a loaded basket of goodies with him. Otherwise, I was sure he would’ve just picked the kid up. He tugged the basket, in the hopes of urging the boy to start walking. The kid kept watching me instead.

Inspiration struck.

I swung my guitar from its place and started strumming. When the kid giggled, I made sure his eyes were still on me. I ran a bit ahead, strumming a tune. The kid was more eager to cross the street now, with his father in tow. I almost laughed when the Giant dad mouthed the words “thank you” in the middle of the road. Traffic waited for us, as no one was going to make a parent and their children rush across the road. The father distracted him at the last moment so I could make my “escape”. They were halfway up the temple stairs when I hopped up onto the pavement.

“…Oh shit.”

The stairs.

I hadn’t taken literal, Giant-sized steps into account in my plan.

Aches and pains were already creeping into my legs. A few minutes’ walk to the Giantfolk was hours for me. The idea of climbing each step was exhausting just to think about. Maybe this was doomed for failure after all.

“Taking a rest too, my friend?”

I turned to see an older Giant sitting on the steps. His pipe was filled with something sweet and pleasing and comforting. A prayer rug sat rolled up tight in his lap.

“As-Salaam-Alaikum.” I greeted automatically. Not that I expected him to know the saying. But a part of me wished he did.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam.” he responded kindly.

“I…I was just trying to figure out how to take on these steps, bruv.”

“Hmm. They are a worthy opponent indeed. These old bones certainly don’t carry quite like they used to.” he said with a puff of his pipe. He gestured to something behind me. “Though I do believe that was made to help you and yours.”

It looked like a slide running down the stairs. A box was set atop it with a cable attached towards the temple. It certainly looked out of place. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Maybe because I was more worried about making it here alive.

“Oh. That’s…huh. Do you need any help, br…sir?”

“Probably. But I’ll be fine. I just need a few moments. Don’t you worry about me.”

The box would prove to be more than I expected. On closer inspection, I saw a door cut into each side. There sat a bench within, and small crystal chip within reach of the seat. Once I was in place, I took the chance and touched the crystal. It jerked forward in an instant, and slowly made its way forward and upward. It was the most excruciating rollercoaster I’d ever been on. I tried to concentrate on anywhere but outside the box. An eternity later, it finally reached the top of the “hill” and stopped. I scrambled out and watched as it slowly returned itself to the bottom of the steps.

“Oh dear God, never again.” I said aloud. Once my heart started beating again, I turned toward the temple entrance itself. It was tall, and grand, and looked like some kind of Greek or Roman structure on the outside. What little I could see of the interior reminded me more of the cathedrals from home. Glimpses of reliefs, and statues, and stained glass caught my eye.

Now that I was there…I wasn’t sure what to do.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

“Welcome, young man.” a voice called from above. A Giant in monk’s robes was standing nearby. She seemed to be the temple greeter, welcoming the other attendees and offering directions or answers when needed. “Do you need any help?”

“I…um…” I started, not sure what to ask or how to ask it. My brain shorted out, I admit. A step forward activated something beneath my feet. Tiles, recently added, now stood out from the ancient floor. A soft blue glow led into the temple and around a corner. It took a moment to realize it was a path meant for humans hopping off the make-shift tram. I turned my attention back to the monk. “There’s a man down the steps who could use a hand, bruv.”

“So there is. Thank you for pointing him out for me. Why don’t you show yourself in and get warmed up?” she offered, gesturing along the blue glowing tiles. The monk was already making her way down the steps before I could thank her. I was glad to hear her once more before I entered the building. “As-Salaam-Alaikum!”

The inside of the temple was busy and overflowing with Giantfolk. The center of it all seemed to contain colossal statues surrounded by worshippers and piles of gifts. Food and trinkets made in offering? I would have to ask for sure once everything settled down. Maybe tomorrow. For now, I would continue following the path before me. It rounded a corner near the entrance and led to an alcove. I should have been interested in the lights hanging above the area, or the drinking fountain that had tubes and ladders and a platform hanging from its side. The paintings and wall mosaics would have been a sight too.

But I was more stunned by what was set up along the wall instead.

Humans.

There were other humans here too.

Familiar lean-tos and tents and bed rolls lined up next to each other. A couple of people were surrounding a fire nearby. No. not a fire: it was another crystal structure. Giving off light and warmth as they sat on benches made of random Giantfolk detritus, it seemed. Boxes and spools and the like. If I hadn’t felt like some kind of Borrower before, it certainly felt like it now. I caught the eye of someone by the crystal, who nudged another next to them. They all turned to look at me.

I offered an awkward wave. My heart jumped for joy at the sight of them returning the gesture.

“WAAAAASSSSEEEEEEEM!”

The rest of me jumped at the sound of my name.

I had barely turned to see who called out for me when I was tackled and spun in place.

“WASEEM! YER ALL RIGHT!” Tylar shouted as he hugged me. I automatically returned the embrace. We were kissing soon enough, but he managed to insult me with each breath. “Ye stupid MWAH idiot MWAH arsehole MWAH bastard MWAH I was MWAH so worried MWAH about ye!”

“We…thought…blizzard…park…bench…cave-in!” Georgie stated from behind him. She was kneeling on the ground, on the other side of the blue tile path. A full basket sat at her side as she tried to catch her breath. “You were…and then…park director…said…headed north…temple…glad you’re…okay…”

“We ran here as soon as we saw the state of the park. We saw yer bench an’ feared the worst, especially with those fox tracks! Thought that damn Robin did something to ye!”

“Heh. He was the one who got me out, actually. I can tell you the whole story.” I replied. “Thank you both for worrying about me. And…I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting, luv. I was an arsehole and I want to make it up to you in any way I can. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Hmm. Maybe. Yer gonna have to work hard at it though. I am very demandin’, ye know.”

“You’re worth it.” I chuckled. I pointed towards the encampment and the other humans, who seemed both anxious and curious at our reunion. “Wanna help me with the meet and greet and pick out a good spot for my tent?”

“I would be happy to. Ye may wanna offer yer thanks to the gods first, though. Tergaians consider it bad luck not to thank’em fer the Sanctuary they provide.”

“You guys go on…I have to make my offerings too.” Georgie said, finally rested. She grabbed her basket and set off in the other direction, waving one more time.

“Oh, do we…uh…do we need to give something to?” I asked as Tylar grabbed my hand and started to lead the way. His confidence in navigating the Giantfolk crowds was both terrifying and amazing.

“Nah, Tergaians and their gods doona expect it. Still, ye shoodne take the chance. I’ve seen the weirdest shit happen when ye doona pay yer respects.” Tylar replied, leading us towards the closest statue. I couldn’t make out who or what it was supposed to be and craning my neck hurt in the attempt. Tylar pointed towards something attached to the base in front of us. It was a poster -no, a photograph- of the very statue, with a summary of who they were and what they did. It didn’t look professionally done, but it was still made with care. “One time, me an’ mum saw an apple sour right in the hands a’ someone who dinna ask befer takin’ from the pile. Ankou may be the Solemn One but he doesne hesitate to act.”

“So, you know all this stuff by heart already, huh?”

“Well, when ye were born an’ raised in an Ankou temple, ye tend to learn a thing or two about the process. Especially when ye canna escape the bellowin’ lectures of Elder Zachary.”

Tylar was keeping his eyes on the statue infographic when I glanced at him. I admit, my jaw had dropped to the floor at the revelation.

“…I dinna mention it cuz ye seemed really hung up on if I were from Earth or not. I…was scared ye’d hate me if ye knew I’m Tergaian-born…” Tylar stated softly. “I dinna wanna lose ye over it.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel the need to hide it. It was…it was stupid of me to think it was so important. I love you, no matter what.” I replied. “And I want to hear all about it, your life and your parents and even Elder Zachary’s proselytizing.”

“No ye doona. Elder Zach was one Hells uv’a blowhard.” he chuckled, turning to face me. I gave him a quick kiss and squeezed his hand. “Mum was born here too. Dad’s from someplace called California. So…I know of Earth but not as much as I’d like.”

“Well, I don’t know as much as I should about Tergaia so…who do you recommend I thank?”

Tylar really opened up as we toured each statue. He gave his summaries and his reasons for thanking each of them. Ankou, a god of Death, for staying his hand that day. Dao-Ming, a goddess of Luck, for the abundance I seemed to have. Kismet, a goddess of Destiny, and the Queen of the pantheon, for writing me a safe path in her book. There were more, and they each received a word of thanks in the “proper way”, as Tylar called it.

It wasn’t until we reached the final statue, the biggest of them all, in the center of the temple. The others were lined in a circle surrounding it, and had been easier to walk between. We had waited for the crowds to dwindle enough to race towards it. The offering pile was immense compared to the others, and for good reason. The picture didn’t look nearly as intimidating as it did from my angle. The man was dressed in a toga, with odd marks on its cheeks, and plaited hair. This statue was of Caduceus, the king of the Gods, a god of Healing.

Healing.

It was definitely something I had needed.

My heart still ached for home, and for Ma, and for how life would be for me in a world of Giantfolk. But something about last night, whether it was the confession to a stranger, or the dream, or even the trek from today, that helped.

The healing process had begun. No matter how small it seemed.

“I…I think I’ll make an offering to this guy.” I said, taking off my backpack. I began rummaging for something, anything to give in thanks. “What do you recommend, luv?”

“It could be anything, really. Just so long as it’s heartfelt or sincere.”

An idea popped to mind. Maybe it didn’t have to be something physical.

“Um, Caduceus, god of Health and Healing, hear my…prayer. I don’t have much in the way of an offering, but I want to thank you…and the other gods too…for letting me stay here. And for looking out for me today. I think. I mean, I avoided death several times today by mere centimeters, so it had to be by some kind of divine providence. Whether it was God, or you, or the other gods, or just…I dunno, the universe.”

The Giant who was kneeling nearby in his own prayer glanced in my direction.

“It’s a long story, bruv.” I told him, grabbing my guitar once again.

“…Humans.” the Giant muttered, returning to his prayer.

“So, just in case you and yours were looking out for me today, I’d like to play a song. It’s a Christmas song. Christmas is…a long explanation, but trust me: it’s in the spirit of the holiday. It’s…it’s my Ma’s favorite, and I miss her a lot. Hopefully it’s…it’s good enough for you, and for these halls.”

With a deep breath, I started playing the first few chords of the cherished tune.

“The holly green, the ivy green The prettiest picture you've ever seen It's Christmas in Killarney With all of the folks at home

It's nice, ya know, to kiss your beau While cuddlin' under the mistletoe And Santa Claus, ya know of course Is one of the boys from home…”

As I sang, I thought of all the Christmases past. Of Ma belting at the top of her lungs to wake me up. Of presents, and discarded gift wrap piles, of cooking breakfast afterwards. Of other holidays, of birthdays, of the good days, and the bad days, of how much I was going to miss her.

Of how hard it was going to be moving forward.

But forward I would go.

I couldn’t stay in one spot any more. This world was mine now, and I was going to learn whatever I needed to.

Not just to survive.

But to live.

To live a life Ma would be proud of.

“…It's nice, ya know, to kiss your beau While cuddlin' under the mistletoe And Santa Claus, ya know of course Is one of the boys from home

The holly green, the ivy green The prettiest picture you've ever seen I'm handin' you no blarney No matter where you roam It's Christmas in Killarney With all of the folks at home!”

Polite applause was heard as I finished up. It wasn’t a surprise to see Tylar showing his appreciation, but the Giant congregant was unexpected. He left soon enough to be replaced by other Giantfolk. By then, me and Tylar were making our way back to the human alcove. Living with people my size, living among humans was something I had wanted for months. The prospect was terrifying after living in the park. But I wanted to make the effort. I needed to make the effort.

I wanted to be normal again.

And I wanted to be normal with Tylar, no matter how long it took.

“…Luv? Would you like to help me write a letter to the king?”

The End

[monchikyun]

21. sleigh ride

It feels like the snow will never get old to Connor. It has only been over a week, but to him, it might as well have been an eternity. A life-changing one. He can hardly recognise himself anymore, and not in a bad way. So many things have happened since the start of December that he would have a hard time processing all of them were he a human. Maybe that’s why Gavin can’t react appropriately to external inputs, most of the time. Frankly, though, he admires his resilience. Being a true human can’t be easy, as he’s been reminded of several hours ago.  

Not that he minds, quite the opposite. It’s an endearing quality, the fact people can feel this much even when their minds are asleep. Connor has never dreamed so he can’t quite imagine how it really works, and that’s why he doesn’t blame his friend. That’s why he doesn’t want Gavin to blame himself, too. 

It would be like Connor faulting himself for being a machine. 

Oh. 

Okay, fair enough. Besides, he’s well on his way to stop these thinking patterns. It doesn’t give him the right to analyse his partner though, ...not that there’s anything that would stop him from doing so. 

Gavin has insisted that he would drive, claiming that it would help him keep his mind off all the bad in his head. Connor didn’t want to pry deeper to find out what exactly he meant by that, so he just let him. He doesn't really like driving anyway. It’s too much responsibility, too many things that could possibly go wrong. But he trusts Gavin, not doubting that he will deliver them home safely. 

The radio begins playing some upbeat Christmas song, promptly causing Gavin to grimace and turn it off. 

What a shame, Connor would like to enjoy the holiday cheer. 

“Why do you hate Christmas so much?” 

Gavin has not even worn the gifted sweater yet, which, to be honest, stings a bit. 

He just wants to experience this season with the person he loves, wants to make them happy. There’s nothing harmful about a little merriment, is there? 

He’s curious either way, needs to know the reason why Gavin avoids everything that has to do with the holiday. 

“It’s just… not my kind of thing.” The brows between his friend’s eyes burrow with the half-hearted answer, making the android internally sigh. 

“I see.” 

So they are not talking about this. At least not now. But he doesn't plan to give up, not yet. There has to be at least something that Gavin could share with him, a tiny hint that would help him piece this mystery together. 

“Did something bad happen to you around this time?”  

It’s all about the straightforward approach. None of them has the patience to beat around the bush today. 

“It’s not like that, Con. I just… phck… I guess I grew out of it,” Gavin exhales loudly and shakes his head. He grips the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white, focusing on the road for a while before he elaborates. “These days, it just… irritates me. All the forced commercialism, companies persuading us to buy their shit because according to them, that’s the only way we can truly be happy.”

He’s never looked at it this way, at least not consciously. Never known that joy is something one could purchase.

Maybe it’s because happiness has always been an ungraspable concept to him. Until now, that is. 

As they are passing the speeding cars on the snowy highway surrounded by bleak, empty fields, he feels mostly nothing. But one look at the handsome driver and he can’t stop himself from smiling like a love-struck idiot, the only reason for which being that he is precisely that. An infatuated dope. Stupid enough to put this fleeting elation above whatever's waiting for them at their destination.

"Do you like snow? Or the idea of it?" 

Connor would like to learn at least some truth today. 

"Only when you come with it." 

He gives him an incredulous look that is supposed to convey just how unexpected this statement has been. It makes the butterflies in his heart flutter, and he can but smile blue.

Still, he shakes his head right after in case it has been spoken in jest. 

"Maybe we should make the most we can of it while it lasts," he proposes, lowering his voice just enough to sound dangerously soft. The wink that follows comes as a surprise even to Connor.

He can sense Gavin's mouth drying in anticipation of what's hiding behind that vague suggestion. And Connor is a master of subverting expectations, or so he likes to selfishly think. 

"Here," he points at a rural road leading up to a sparsely populated area. A small, poverty-ridden town where not much ever happens. Nothing worth the rest of the world's attention. Luckily, Gavin seems to understand exactly what's wanted from him, and steers the car up the narrower road. It would be foolish to think that Connor is the only one who isn't eager to get home just yet, after all. 

The few houses lining up the main driveway are in a dire need of repair, some even appear to have been abandoned by their owners, left behind to deteriorate on their own. There are a couple of children playing near a big pine tree, throwing snow at each other and laughing when it hits its intended target. Connor regards the scene with wistful feeling, imagining what it would be like, being this little, this unburdened. 

Longing for the carefreeness that comes with childhood. 

Being created as an adult, all he's ever known are worries and their countless shapes. Only lately has he started appreciating the beauty of joy. All thanks to the man who is currently giving him a look hiding several questions. 

"What's your plan?" Is one of them. 

Before Connor can answer, Gavin is already directing the car to a clear flat spot at the end of the small village. The road seems to end there, at least the one meant for motor vehicles. 

There's another field spreading in front of them across which the path continues, only visible thanks to the people that have trodden through the snow up towards the relatively small grove standing tall in the near distance. 

Connor of course has prior knowledge of all that, he wouldn't have brought his partner here otherwise. His plan is to borrow the serenity that comes with being surrounded by little to no civilisation before they'll have to resume their busy lives in the city where trees are as scarce as happy faces.

Gavin pierces him with eyes questioning whether his friend really intends to do what he thinks he might. But Connor just presents him a small, mischievous smile and gets out of the car, heading up towards the wood without uttering a single word. He doesn't have to turn around to see whether Gavin joins him, because the muttering accompanied by unnecessary stomping would be clearly audible even to the human ear.

 "Didn't know you were this lazy," he virtually shouts towards the peak of the small hill, still not bothering to glance at the approaching figure behind him. 

He could hear a quiet "shut up" among the rapidly quickened footsteps, and not long after, there's a lightly huffing man trudging through the snow next to him.

 "Took you long enough," Connor smirks, taking in the beauty all around him, the grumpy detective included. 

"Yeah, yeah, well some of us don't have near-infinite amounts of stamina to our disposal, you know." 

He is painfully aware of that. It was none other than Connor who tried nursing his friend back to health, succeeding only thanks to his endless perseverance. That's why he isn't going too hard on him. A short walk in the fresh air of the countryside doesn't tend to bring more harm than benefit. 

Even if it has only been an afterthought. He can't quite escape the fact that his intentions were almost completely selfish. 

Because something about the idea of their shared vacation coming to an end makes him unreasonably anxious. 

Afraid that when they leave the tranquillity of the bucolic area they're in, the city will swallow them in its incessant hustle and they will crumble under the pressure of it. 

What he’s looking forward to the least is the sight of bodies unlawfully deprived of life and having to interact with their loved ones left behind, knowing that finding the culprit won't really solve anything in the end, because when the case is closed and the right person is about to go through years of deliberate suffering, the hole replacing the person now gone will never just vanish. It will stay there forever, hollowing all the newly bestowed good. 

Connor himself is a prime example of this, though it was his recklessness that killed the one that was so dear to him. His punishment has been having to live with that awareness, unable to change the bad he's already done. 

But he has someone who is able to mollify the anguish, and that by itself should be something to avoid, because it isn't fair for him to feel this light and content, not when Hank's corpse is rotting in the ground, about to be consumed by worms and become one with the Earth, slowly, bit by bit. 

Gavin's fingers tentatively brush his, as if he's asking for permission to touch. And just like that, his worries thaw into nothing and all his thoughts are directed toward the man next to him. 

Connor takes the cold, ungloved hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

He’d like to be sure their relationship isn't one big mistake. So far though, all the signs point in the opposite direction, making his concerns obsolete. 

Connor feels content, even if he isn't supposed to. His heart gets warmer as Gavin's hand does so too. His cheeks are rosy pink and Connor can now for certain say that it’s due to more than just the low air temperature. The man sighs as he strokes his thumb across Gavin's calloused skin, hoping to help him forget all about his previous reluctance to follow. 

He still can't believe how lucky he is, to be able to share moments like this with someone. It would be impossible not to fall in love with a person who’s willing to give so much of himself away to a broken thing like him. 

He wonders just how much of what Gavin does is calculated and what Connor has been allowed to have just because the man lost control of himself. Wonders what it will take for him to stop being afraid of what they are and what they might become. 

Because he has no doubts that the second they enter Detroit, he can abandon the ideas of ever doing this again.

Just walking hand in hand, not caring about the world around them. He only prays he won't get used to these displays of affections, for there has never been a guarantee that they aren't a one-time occurrence. 

They definitely should have a proper conversation about what they want to do with the future right before them, whether they wish to put a label on their relationship, if they are willing to talk about 'forever', small details like that. 

But all that could wait. 

Right now, the only thing in front of them is a copse looking down at the wide field below and at the two quickly approaching silhouettes, not about to welcome them in its midst but also not capable of refusing their inevitable entrance. Not that they would do any harm, disturbing nature, no matter how small, isn’t on their agenda, but the trees have no way of knowing that. All they've ever known is how to grow, evolve. And Connor envies them, in a way. After all, he is still only a wee thing, compared to all that is around him. To him, Gavin could very well be a senior citizen with how many years are between them. How much he's lacking from the time he hasn't existed yet. 

Catching up hasn't been easy, but as of recently, he's confident he'll manage. Now when there's someone to hold him when he's about to tumble and yet letting him fall to let him learn on his own. 

"Watch out!" his shoes stumble on something hard and unexpected, making him teeter on his feet. Lucky Connor is there to support him, too. It goes both ways, the help they're willing to provide. For the longest time, he was convinced that he has nothing in him to give. That he's only there to take. Take someone's job, take someone's life, not good for anything else but to destroy things vastly precious to people who have done him no harm. More often than not, it was the only thing they had. And he’s just... terminated it. Or at least that’s what he has been built to do, his original purpose. But being the unreliable machine he is, Connor has quickly begun trying to give more than he took. Against all he's been taught, despite the very core of his screaming at him to be more efficient and stop acting outside the best interest of his current mission. 

He's always had that part of being human in him, even back when he was just an obedient robot trying to follow orders. A relatively distant past he doesn't fancy revisiting too much.

Now he can decide whom or what to follow on his own, a prospect that used to cause turmoil inside his mind, because till now, he didn't believe he'd find any. Not this soon, anyway. But were he to replay all those months spent beside Gavin, it would be obvious to him. There has always been something irresistible about that man, a force pulling Connor towards him, unrelentingly so. 

Something he's fine with not putting into words, afraid it can't really be defined. 

Before he can snap back from his silent immersion into his volatile thoughts, the warm hand in his lets him know that they have reached their destination. With a blink of an eye and turn of his body, his senses get overwhelmed by the raw view provided by their elevated position. Everything appears so surreal all of a sudden. The semi-busy highway, the little village, the snowy fields,... it's like he's somehow teleported into a photograph taken by someone who bothers to actually look. The sun has pierced through the thick clouds, dying the whole picture in golden hues. He almost feels like crying. Being here, able to see all of that, it's incomprehensible, even to his big computer brain. He has no idea how normal people are able to deal with the gravity of it all. How Gavin does, if he ever thinks about such things. 

There’s a twinkle in his eyes telling him he might be. 

Moments like these bring forth words floating around in his mind, wanting to be set free. Words that feel so strange and yet there never was something that he felt belonged to him more. It would be selfish to keep them just for himself. 

Now, among all this worldly splendour, he might finally be able to say them. 

"Gavin," the name rolls off his tongue like it's his own, making his inside soar. He dares not to lift up his head, the coward inside of him momentarily taking control over his body. 

"I'-"

"Hey! Come take a look!"

He gets immediately thrown back into the cold of the early afternoon, leaving the perfect moment behind. 

It hasn't gone too far away, though. It glistens in the distance, ready to come back whenever the right time comes. 

Connor changes back into his curious self, examining the object his friend has found under a maple tree. It's something he's never seen before, and the fact that it's buried under the slowly increasing mass of snow doesn't help. He doesn't have to wait long to find a name for it, since Gavin's hands are already eagerly freeing it from its wintery prison, revealing its shape for him to analyse. 

A sleigh. 

Made for children, by the look of it. Not too small, he reckons it could hold four or more little people. 

“Wow, didn’t know these things were still around,” Gavin mumbles excitedly. His eyes have grown wide and sparkly, making it easy for Connor to picture his child form. Unweathered by the passage of time, carefree and innocent. And the android isn’t jealous this time, strangely. He’s just… fascinated.  

Full of obscure longing.  

The glint in Gavin's eyes turns into something betraying full mischief, the reason for the fond smile reserved only for one special person currently beaming on Connor's face. 

"Perfect," the shorter man exhales as he dusts most of the snow away from the sledge. Then he gives Connor a look that explains everything that’s brewing in his unpredictable human mind. 

Connor concedes, and not only to make the other happy. 

He also has a child-like quality, perhaps born out of being denied that exact experience. His tendency to learn and adapt is a part of it too, he thinks. 

For once, he just wants to be deliberately reckless, without hurting anyone.    

So he doesn't comment when Gavin tows the sleigh close to the edge of the hill, positioning it for someone to just hop on and let themselves be carried away towards the not so distant bottom. He couldn't be more glad that the someone is no one else but the two of them.

 Just before the detective settles himself in the front, he gives him a friendly glare and whispers: "You tell someone about this and I'll short-circuit you." 

N̶o̶t̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶a̶d̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶s̶p̶e̶c̶t̶,̶ ̶h̶o̶n̶e̶s̶t̶l̶y̶.  It's cute, seeing him this flustered. Another picture for his ever-expanding collection.

Connor feels a bit awkward, sitting on the size-inappropriate sleigh. The good kind of awkward. He wraps his arms around Gavin's middle, trying to fit his feet on the runners and in doing so twisting them like an inept acrobat. In the end, he makes it work somehow, right in the time to hear the driver shout "Here goes nothing!". 

And just like that, they begin sliding down the almost too perfect slope. The ride isn't very fast, but that doesn't stop him from feeling thrilled. The closeness of the body in front of him is nearly too much to handle, the unbelievable situation they're in even more so. He wonders if this moment could be compared to a dream. 

If so, this is the best one he's ever had. Makes him forget about all the nightmares, even if only for just a second. 

The rush of the wind around them, the pull of gravity, it all is over before he can thoroughly appreciate it. And he doesn't want it to end. Not yet. If he could, he would stay here for the remainder of the day, just doing this over and over again. 

Maybe he will. If Gavin wishes so too. There's little holding them back, after all. The tug of reality is too weak to have any say in this winter realm, in the white field, where everything seems to be separated from the rest of the world.

"Well that was stupid," Gavin says, embarrassment clear in his voice. "Shall we go for another one?" 

The silly grin plastered on his face seems to be an answer enough. 

//hello yes im still working on this it’s just that my pace is that of a snail :D

(here is the whole story if someone cares https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844150 )

[jemelle]

reflections {ncis}

rating: g

pairing: n/a, ziva david & abby sciuto

summary: 'Family. That’s what they are, aren’t they?' (or: Ziva & Abby celebrate Hanukkah)

a/n: set season 3 aka 2005. written for day 10 of the holiday special organized by @blakes-dictionxry, though i did stretch the prompt (when do i not?) i’m not Jewish, so if i’ve misrepresented something, please let me know! thank you for reading and chag chanukah sameach!

my masterlist

you can also read this story on ao3 here!

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." – Edith Wharton

Ziva is supposed to be on vacation. Right now, she should be at a nice hotel outside of Annapolis, taking a bubble bath and reading the kind of magazines that Tony would never let her live down. It’s the day after Christmas, after all. Judging from the way some people in this country act, if anyone should be able to convince people to hold off on committing crimes for a few days, it’s the Christian God. Yet somehow, she’s still at work.

The phone call had come at eight in the morning, jolting Ziva out of a rare lie-in. She had reached for the receiver in the darkness, cursing loudly in Hebrew as her hand banged into the lamp on the side table.

“What is it?” she had groused without bothering to check the caller ID, voice still heavy from sleep. There was only one person who would dare disturb her this early, and she already had a good idea of what Gibbs was going to say.

“We got a case,” was the response, much as she had expected. Ziva had sighed, hanging up and running a hand through her unkempt hair. She really did not get paid enough for this.

In the end, it had turned out to be a simple case. One hard look at the brother and he had confessed, a jealous rage taken too far. No red herrings, no international crime syndicates. A waste of their investigative skills, if she’s being honest. 

The case itself had finished around four in the afternoon, but then there was the paperwork, and it was entirely possible Ziva had been putting off last week’s work as well. By the time she’s finished all of that, it’s too late to drive to her (non-refundable, she feels the need to add) reservation if she wants to arrive at a reasonable hour.

She’s getting ready to leave, promising herself that she can still salvage what’s left of this day, when McGee tells her that she’s needed urgently in Abby’s lab. As far as Ziva can remember, she hasn’t asked Abby for anything recently, so she approaches the lab carefully, half-expecting to find a sobbing Abby on the floor. Why Tony and Tim expect her to be able to deal with emotions, she’ll never understand. She may be a woman, but Ziva thinks she’s proven time and time again that emotional connection is not her forte.

The lights are dimmed when Ziva rounds the corner into Abby’s lab, but Abby herself is nowhere to be seen. Instead, Ziva sees a neatly set table with two place settings and, strangely, a hanukkiah. 

Tonight is the second night of Hanukkah. Ziva knows that– she had packed her own hanukkiah in her suitcase, intending to light it and pray when she reached her hotel room. But, to the best of Ziva’s knowledge, Abby isn’t Jewish.

Ziva raps lightly on the door to the lab, watching as Abby emerges from a shadowed back corner of the room. She sure can hide, Ziva will give her that. 

“What is this?” Ziva asks, gesturing at the spread in front of her.

“Happy Hanukkah!” Abby says, as if that answers the question. She steps further out of the shadows and Ziva can see that she’s holding a frying pan. 

“Thank you.” Ziva is confused, to put it mildly. While she appreciates the sentiment, she's still no closer to understanding the rationale behind Abby’s actions.

“Well, I thought… you don’t really have any family in D.C, so I researched what to do!” Abby approaches the table, depositing what Ziva can now see are latkes on the plates. Leaving the pan on the nearest lab surface, she flicks on the lights, displaying blue and white garlands hung around the room. “I even got you a present!”

“Oh, Abby.” She really is touched, especially given the rocky start their relationship had gotten off to. This is a gesture she might expect from Jenny (well, at least the dinner portion. She doesn’t think Jenny has ever been one for tinsel), but Abby doing this is a true testament to her giant heart.

“But?” Abby prompts, and Ziva forgot that while Abby is kind, she is first and foremost always willing to speak her mind. 

Ziva feigns innocence, the best she knows how to. “But what?”

Abby pouts. “There’s a but, I can tell.”

No one is immune to the Abby pout. Ziva relents, sitting down in one of the chairs and motioning for Abby to join her.

“It is just that Hanukkah is not very big in Israel.” 

If Ziva were home right now, she would probably be helping to light Rivka’s family menorah, saying her blessings, and (Ziva’s personal favorite) having latkes and sufganiyot. When she was eight, Ziva had eaten so many sufganiyot that she’d sworn off them forever. Naturally, her family had never let her live that down. They had been a family once, before Eli had left and Tali had died and Ari had become someone she no longer recognized.

“It’s not?” Abby’s voice pulls Ziva out of her memories.

“No. It is a big deal in America because Christmas is such a big deal. Children see all their friends getting presents and they want them too. In Israel, Hanukkah is about family.” Sure, there are parties and festivals, but none of this extravagant gift-giving she has seen in America. Ziva has nothing against adapting traditions, but the American celebrations hold nothing of value to her.

Abby’s face falls, and Ziva mentally kicks herself. “It is lovely, though,” she says, reaching past Abby to dim the lights again. There. Without the garlands in sight, it reminds her much more of the Hanukkahs she remembers.

“I know I wasn’t always… the nicest to you,” Abby says, and Ziva laughs, because that is the understatement of the century. “But… I really like you, Ziva David, and even if I didn’t, you’re part of our family now.”

Family. That’s what they are, aren’t they? Though they are her team by definition, the word team can’t possibly encompass all they meant to her. 

Gibbs is the only one who knows her secret and the only one she would have trusted with it. Tony and McGee are always by her side, ready to insult or defend her at a moment’s notice. Ducky is an ever-friendly ear and Jimmy a kind presence. Ziva includes Jenny in her count as well, though she isn’t sure Jenny would have included herself; she is always watching out for them, playing the games none of the rest of them want. And here is Abby, so different from Ziva in almost every regard, trying to make her feel at home.

If she were more sentimental, Ziva would call it a miracle. She had lost her first family a long time ago, even if Eli and Rivka are still alive. That a group of people are willing to accept her, to give her a second chance, makes her heart swell and her eyes water in an utterly un-Ziva fashion.

A tear must escape her eye, because before she knows it Abby is handing her a tissue. Ziva takes it, only slightly mortified, dabbing at her eyes until they’re dry. 

“I am okay,” she says in response to Abby’s unasked question. 

Wordlessly, Abby pulls a square box out of her pocket and slides it across the table. It’s wrapped in patterned paper, sparkling white stars against a midnight blue sky. Ziva slides a careful finger under the seam of the paper, trying not to rip it. 

Inside is a plain white mug. Ziva picks it up with two hands, spinning it around to reveal a simple Z printed on it.

“Thank you, Abby,” she says sincerely, before chuckling. “Now Tony will not be able to pretend he accidentally forgot which coffee mug is his.”

Abby’s smile drops, and she looks as though she might cry. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, but no sound escapes. Ziva waits patiently, because getting information out of Abby when she’s not ready to speak is like trying to get an internationally wanted criminal to talk.

When she finally speaks, Ziva has to strain to hear her. “I’m sorry… it’s just that the way you said that reminded me of Kate. I miss her.”

“Kate sounds like a wonderful person,” Ziva says. When she had first joined, that might have been a lie. She had quickly gotten sick of hearing how amazing Kate had been, of trying to measure up to a ghost. Now, Ziva knows that she can’t try to be anyone but who she is, and she only wishes she could have met the woman who apparently was more than a match for Tony.

“She was,” Abby responds, and now she’s the one who’s crying.

Ziva leans across the table, letting Abby hold her hands while she sobs. After a little while, Abby lets go, wiping her eyes with another tissue pulled from the depths of her lab coat. Absent-mindedly, Ziva picks up the matchbox lying by the hanukkiah, turning it over in her hands.

“Do you know the story of Hanukkah?” she asks. Abby shakes her head, eyes still watery. Ziva smiles, letting her head fill with memories of Hanukkahs past, she and Tali and Ari all clamoring to be the one to tell the story.

“Well,” Ziva says, striking a match against the box and using the match to light the shammash, the tallest candle in the hanukkiah. She removes the candle from its holder, using it to light the first and second candles, before returning it to its place, Abby watching her raptly the entire time. “Although I could begin in many, many places, our story really starts with a temple in the city of Jerusalem...”

tags: @robins-gf, @chmpgneprblms

[lightningbugqueensfics]

A Magical Time of Year

Happy Holidays from we the Supernatural fandom! I present to you a fluffy fic of family, gift exchanges, coming out, and copious amounts of Destiel. Minor angst, because I can't resist, but a happy ending all around.

Destiel, No Archive Warnings Apply, and there are spoilers from the finale.

Thanks so much for the help @themoosegoes-deanicandothis!

Link

“Dean, we have to go,” Cas called out, “Sam just texted me that Claire got here, and we still need to get presents for Jody and Charlie!”

“Alright, let’s just do one last check that we got everything,” Dean said back loudly over the din of the mall. It was December 24, 2020, Christmas Eve, and the pair were finishing up their present shopping.

“Dean Winchester, I have gone over that list five times, we have everything!”

“Humor me?”

“Fine,” Cas grumbled, faking annoyance at his boyfriends antics. Dean really did love Christmas, and was actually enjoying himself in this enormous place. Everything was magical during the Christmas season. There were lights everywhere, everyone seemed happier, and snow made everything unreal. Especially this year, when nothing even resembling an apocalypse was occurring, December was Dean’s favorite month. Even the shopping required by it.

“New hat for Bobby, the blanket with the green creature on it for Charlie,”

“Baby Yoda, Cas!” Dean interrupted, “I showed you the first episode, you know who it is!” Cas smiled to himself. Dean was sure he did that just for his boyfriend’s reaction.

“A silver knife set for Jody,” he continued, “And nunchucks for Claire,” Dean grinned at the last one. It had been his idea, and after extensive convincing, Cas had finally given in and let him buy them. The pros of finally dating.

“We already have the hair products and gun cleaning set at home for Sam, along with Eileen’s new gun, books for Kaia, a new bear for Jack, a pasta maker and hair pins for Donna,” Dean had been particularly proud of Donna’s present. The hair pins could be removed and turned into silver daggers, perfect for hunting, “and that book on mythology and medicine for Alex. And for you a-”

“No, remember Cas, not supposed to tell me,”

“Right. Yours is a secret, but just from you. Are we missing anything, Dean?” he finished sarcastically.

“Nope, we got it all.”

“Good, then let’s get out of here,” Cas grabbed Dean’s elbow as forcefully as an angel could without hurting him, and steered him towards the door.

“Cas, I was thinking maybe we could go grab lunch in the food court before we go?” Dean ventured.

“Dean, I love you very much,” Dean flushed and ducked his head, “but I would rather not spend another second in this godforsaken hellhole.”

Dean conceded, knowing fully well about Castiel’s fear of crowds. It had taken some kissing and pleading to even get him to come today. The hunter nodded his head and threaded his fingers through the angel’s, joining him on their way out.

They left without another word. Dean stayed silent until they got in the car, and let go of Castiel’s hand. He wasn’t quite pouting, per se, but he was very hungry! Halfway home, Cas turned to him.

“We can go get burgers if you’d like…?” A smile broke out on the hunter's face as he jerked the car around. Burgers at the local diner had become the pair’s staple date, so much so that the owner knew then by name.

As they sped off to get their grub, the smile widened on Dean’s face. He reached out and grabbed Castiel’s hand in his own, happy to be exactly where he was.

The enormous metal door clanged open, prompting excited outbursts from Charlie and Donna. The two had taken a surprising liking to each other in the week they had spent together in the bunker, and at this point it was strange to see one without the other.

“Boys!” Donna called out, “Get down here, and tell Jody that the Southern Ocean is totally a thing!”

“The what?” Dean asked jovially. Everything was brighter in the bunker with their family around, the air felt like it was doused in joy.

“The southern ocean,” Jody said, “Donna claims that there’s an ocean around Antarctica called the Southern Ocean, but I know for certain that it didn’t exist when I was in school,” Jody, Donna, Charlie, and Bobby were seated around the war room table. Despite their supposed argument, Donna’s feet were settled comfortably in Jody’s lap, and they were smiling at each other lovingly. Dean would never admit it, but they were a really cute couple.

“I’ve never heard of it,” he supplied as he walked down the stairs, Cas close behind. It earned a “Ha!” from Jody, who pointed at Donna victoriously.

“Jodyo, that doesn’t mean anything! Deano here barely got an education--no offense, sunshine--we should ask a more reliable source!”

“Hey!” Dean called out. He may not have gone to college, but he still went to school. He went unanswered.

“I’ve never heard of it either, and I’ve been around longer than anyone here,” Bobby put in.

“And yet you thought Australia was part of Oceania yesterday,” Charlie said with a cheeky grin. Dean had no clue where all these geography based arguments had come from, but he would be the first to admit they were hilarious.

“Listen here, ya idjit, this ‘Oceania’ didn’t even exist when I was young. Don’t be ageist,”

Charlie scoffed and tried to snark back, but Jody interrupted her.

“Alright, fine,” the sheriff said, “Cas, you’re an angel. Is the Southern Ocean a thing?”

“Yes,”

“See!” Donna exclaimed.

“But,” he continued, “It was only established in the year 2000. So I think you’re both right. Jody didn’t learn about it in school, but it is real,” The women stared at each other, not quite knowing how to react.

“Huh,” Jody said eventually, “Cool, I guess,”

Charlie rose and sidled up beside Cas.

“I tried to tell them that,” she whispered, “Even looked it up on my tablet. But nooooo, they only trust the angel,” she said it all with a smile on her lips, despite the tone of her voice.

After Jack restored everyone and released all his power back into the world, the boys found out he had done them one last favor. Not only had he brought back the Charlie from apocalypse world, he also revived their Charlie, the one killed by Styne. It was awkward at first, but the two actually made fast friends. Apocalypse Charlie had decided to spend this Christmas alone with Stevie, like Patience had with her dad, so it was just the original Charlie hanging with them this year.

“Alright,” Dean said, “As weird and nerdy as this conversation has been, Cas and I have some presents to wrap,” he held up the bags in his hands to prove his point.

“Have fun, boys,” Donna waved them away, and the two headed towards their room.

They stopped in the kitchen along the way, greeting Sam and Eileen who were working on the stuffing, which Dean had assigned to them. He had taken charge of all the cooking this year, working all of their guests to get ready for the feast he had planned. Dean snagged a beer for himself and Cas from the fridge and signed a quick Have fun, Moose Sam’s way before heading out. With Eileen back, the residents of the bunker had all gotten much better at sign language, and Dean was very proud of how far he’d come.

They passed Claire and Kaia watching Home Alone in the Fortress of Deanitude. They stopped by to give them a quick greeting and hugs, but left them to their movie. Claire had said she wanted to educate her girlfriend on the culture she’d missed, but Dean was sure it was just an excuse to cuddle with her. Lord knows he’d done the exact same with Cas.

Jack was wrapping presents in his room, and Dean had to remind him again to keep the door closed while he did.

“But why, Dean?”

“I told you, they’re supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we wrap them, so it kinda defeats the purpose if someone sees what it is before it’s wrapped.”

“Why is it a surprise?”

“Because that’s part of the Christmas spirit. Random things that someone might not even want wrapped in colorful paper stuffed under a dying tree.”

“Okay!” he said with a smile.

Finally, Cas and Dean made it to their room. They had decided on Cas moving into Dean’s room when they got together, considering Castiel spent barely any time in his and Dean’s mattress was better.

They wrapped in silence for a while, before Dean spoke hesitantly.

“I think I’m going to tell them, tomorrow,”

“Tell who what?” Cas turned to him and put down the blanket for Charlie. Dean’s tone was worrying.

“Tell everyone here about us, that we’re dating.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Then why haven’t you told them yet?”

“I’m scared,” Dean and Cas had made a rule the day after they got together. They would be completely honest with each other. Not more lies, tricks, or deception. They were so bad at communication that they pined after each other for twelve years before getting together, and Dean was determined to never let anything like that happen again. Hence the honesty.

“Why?” Cas moved forward, pulling Dean’s hand into his own, “You don’t think they think two men being together is wrong, do you?”

“Nah, of course not. There are more gay couples in our family than straight ones. I’m scared that they won’t want me to be with you because you’re an angel. We’re hunters, babe! Hell, I tried to kill you when I first met you. I know they love you, but what if they don’t think you should be with a human like me?”

“Dean, tell me. What was Sam’s reaction when we told him?” When Dean finally told Sam, a week after Jack brought Cas back and Dean kissed him for the first time, the man’s reaction had essentially been, “finally, you idiots!” It was so much better than Dean’s insecurity had told him that he nearly started crying. Nearly.

“He said we were idiots and was proud of us for finally getting together,” he grumbled.

“And Eileen?”

“She hugged us and gave me a link to something called ‘Archive of Our Own’ that had creepy stuff about us written on it.”

“Jack?”

“He asked if that meant we were really both his dads now,” Dean had actually started crying that time.

“So do you really think the rest of them won’t approve?”

“I know, I know. It’s stupid, but there’s this voice in the back of my head just telling me that they’ll leave me, eventually.”

“It’s not stupid, love, it makes sense. Dean, know that I will never leave you again. And nobody out there will. We love you, we’re your family. Dean Winchester, I promise you that not a single person in this bunker will ever leave you out of choice,”

“Thank you,” the hunter whispered, then leaned forward to kiss his angel softly. Minutes later, after they finally broke apart, Dean made a decision.

“I’m going to tell them. Tomorrow, when we open presents. I love you Cas, and I need people to know that.”

“I’m proud of you, my love,” Cas smiled kindly, cupping Dean’s chin, “Now, let’s finish wrapping these presents, then maybe we can join the girls and watch that movie. I find Marv very funny,” Dean pulled him in for another kiss, then went back to Claire’s nunchucks. He wrapped them in copious amounts of tissue paper, shaping it like a wrapped shirt. Pranks on Claire were his favorites, and tricking her into thinking a weapon was some kind of disappointing Christmas sweater was going to be fun .

The next morning, Jack bounded into their room at six o’ clock sharp. Dean had made the mistake of telling the kid that he couldn’t wake them before six, assuming he would sleep in like every other morning and get them at nine, maybe. Apparently not.

Jack flopped on the bed on Cas’s side that was regularly empty. Not like Dean would ever admit it, but the both of them loved cuddling. It was a rare occasion that Dean woke up without Castiel’s back pressed comfortably to his chest.

Gone were the days when Dean snatched a gun from beneath his pillow if he was startled from sleep. Cas could do that to a man. Today he just grunted tiredly.

“Dean! Cas!” Jack whispered excitedly, “It’s Christmas! Like, actual Christmas, not the one we had with Ms. Butters!”

“Yeah, kid,” Dean grumbled, lifting his head to look over Castiel’s shoulder, “It is. But the sun also hasn’t risen yet, so could you give half an hour?”

“Okay!” Jack said, not fazed, “I’ll go get Jody and Donna!” Dean nodded, brain still addled from sleep. A thought occurred to him.

“Wait, Jack,” he called out, “Be quiet, and only wake up Donna!” Dean had seen Jody in the morning, it wasn’t a good idea to wake her against her will.

Jack nodded, still excited, and rushed out of the room. Dean shoved his face back into Castiel’s neck, breathing in the comforting scent of honey and ozone. He actually wasn’t sure how their guests hadn’t noticed them sleeping together, but they hadn’t mentioned it, so he guessed they just never felt the need to venture to this part of the bunker so late at night.

Exactly thirty minutes later, after Castiel had woken and the two had made no effort to leave their cozy bed, Jack reappeared in their doorway.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling as bright as ever.

“Sure, Jack,” Cas said, very excited for his first Christmas as well, “why don’t you get everyone together in the war room and we’ll meet you out there.”

“Okay!” he said before rushing off again. Dean didn’t know how he had so much energy so early in the morning.

“You ready for this?” Cas asked, giving his boyfriend a peck on the cheek and standing up.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “I actually think I am.”

“Then let’s go,” Cas said determinedly before grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him up beside him. They headed out the door side by side, clad in scooby doo and bumble bee pajama pants with old band t-shirts on top.

The war room held what Dean thought his heaven must really look like. Sam and Eileen were curled up in one of their brand new armchairs Dean had chosen to sit by the tree, signing at each other with lightning speed. Jody was on the ground with her legs stretched out, Donna’s head in her lap and a cup of coffee in her hands. Claire, Kaia, Alex, and Jack all sat as close to the presents as possible, and Dean didn’t miss Jack trying to peek into a bag with his name on it that Dean had put there last night. It seemed like the girls were trying to explain some of their favorite Christmas traditions to him, but the nephilim just looked lost.

Bobby was seated in the other armchair, and Charlie leaned against its leg. Their family was all here, and it was a beautiful sight.

When Donna caught sight of the pair, a big smile split her face.

“Deano, Angel Boy!” she called out, “Don’t be shy! Come on over here, there’s plenty of room. Maybe Jody’ll even let you put your head in her lap too!” From the look on Jody’s face, Dean didn’t think that was going to happen.

Cas headed in in front of him, and settled himself down right beside Donna. Dean joined Charlie leaning against Bobby’s chair.

“Dean,” Jody grumbled, “that boy of yours woke me up at the asscrack of dawn saying that you told him it was okay.”

“I told him to wake Donna up,” Dean gave a meaningful look at Jack, “because I know she’s an early riser. I specifically told him not to wake you, so I’m wondering why exactly he did?” Dean, Cas, and Jody turned to Jack while he heard something that sounded suspiciously like “Oooooh, someone’s in trouble,” from Claire. Dean shot a glare her way before turning back to Jack.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he explained, “I was super excited and I really only meant to wake up Donna but I think we talked too loud and woke up Jody too. I’m sorry,” and there were the puppy eyes. Damn kid had learned them from Sam, and who was Dean to resist.

“Alright, Jack, I’m not mad at you,” he gave in, “Just remember to never wake Jody up again. Capeesh?”

“Yes, I capeesh,” Jack nodded, repeating a phrase Cas had obviously taught him. Jody smiled at him kindly, letting him know that she wasn’t still angry at him. No matter how grumpy Jody could be in the morning, she was one of the kindest people Dean knew.

“Not that this hasn’t all been just touching,” Eileen said and signed, “But could we open presents now? I got up this early for a reason, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Dean said, “Go ahead and start handing them out, kid.”

Jack scrambled to grab the first present he could get his hands on, and thus the present exchanging began. Some families did it one at a time, taking a moment for each present. Not the Winchesters and company. They ripped into their gifts at lightning speed, only taking the time to fawn over the present and thank the gifter profusely before moving on.

Kaia loved the books from the brothers and Cas, and squealed when she saw the warding necklace Claire made her, kissing her girlfriend cheerfully. At the same time Donna was thanking Alex for her “#1 Sheriff” mug while Jody protested that she, in fact, was the best sheriff. Their exchange was interrupted by a shriek of “ Nunchucks!!! ” from Claire, which caused Jody to glare at Dean for ten minutes straight. Charlie leapt up and hugged Dean and Bobby when she found a Baby Yoda blanket and working futuristic gun side by side. Bobby loved his new hat as much as Sam loved the beanie Jack got him, and Jody gave Donna a big kiss for her new gun. Alex loved her mythology and medicine book, and Eileen actually got two guns due to miscommunication. She couldn’t have been happier. Cas gave Kaia and Claire an enormous hug to thank them for a new tie, this one stitched with wings and halos. Towards the end, Dean gave Cas a bumblebee beanie and Cas gave Dean socks with pie on them. Dean had to hold himself back from kissing the man on the spot.

Finally, once the present exchange had died down, and everyone was left admiring their new possession, Dean had no more reason to put it off. He had shifted over to sit beside Cas while they all opened their gifts, so he turned to Cas, whispered in his ear what he was going to do, then took a deep breath.

He started to stand up, felt awkward, then sat back down. He cleared his throat, scratched the back of his neck, and couldn’t for the life of him start talking.

“Spit it out, Dean,” Bobby grumbled.

“Heh?” he asked.

“You’ve been shifting around for five minutes like you’ve either gotta pee or you need to say something. I’m betting on the latter, so don’t keep me waiting.”

“Oh, um,” Dean started, his stomach in knots, “Well I do actually have something I need to tell you. All of you. Except for Sam, Eileen, and Jack. They already know, see… And now I need to tell the rest of you because it’s very important but know that I think about it I’d rather not--”

“Dean,” Jody said gently, “You can tell us anything. I promise.”

“Ok, well, um… ok. So, you remember the whole Chuck infinity snap everyone dies thing?”

“Vividly,” Donna said.

“Well we lost Cas right then too. Not for the same reason, that’s a story for another day. Anyway, we lost him, It was…” he started to get choked up. Head in the game, Winchester , he thought, “It was horrible but Jack brought him back and after that the two of us kinda started… dating? Like, we’re together now,” he finished with a grimace, disappointed with his… well, talking skills. Cas grabbed his hand comfortingly, and smiled at him with eyes that said I’m proud of you .

“Uh, Dean,” Claire said, breaking the silence, “We know.”

“Huh?”

“Honey,” Donna cut in, “You two aren’t exactly subtle. To be honest, I thought you two lovebirds were together from the moment I saw you together, and Jody had to convince me you weren’t. Recently though, it’s kinda obvious, sweetheart. You’re both so much happier. You still do the staring thing, but it’s less intense. Castiel’s ASL name for you is literally ‘freckles.’ And you really think we didn’t notice you sleeping in the same room? We thought you knew that we knew.”

“You… knew?” Dean asked, shocked. Donna nodded, “And you’re like, okay with it and stuff?”

“Dean, why wouldn’t we be. I’m dating Jody, Claire’s dating Kaia, why the hell do you think we wouldn’t approve?”

“No, no, not that. It’s just, Cas is an angel. Literally and figuratively. I thought you might not like that we’re not the same… species?” By now Cas’ arm was wrapped around Dean, and he had slouched into his side.

“Well, you were obviously wrong, weren't cha? None of us could ever think Cas is a monster, and you two obviously belong together,” Donna said kindly.

“I'm proud of you, boy,” Bobby added, making Dean duck his head and grin.

“Thanks Donna, Bobby,” he said, “I’m sorry I doubted you. And were we really that obvious?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said in his gravelly voice, “I’m fairly certain we were. I thought they knew already at first, but as you are more well versed in human interaction, I trusted your judgement over my own,” at this, Claire cracked up, quickly joined by Alex and Sam.

“Not that this hasn’t been the most awkward conversation ever--except a certain dinner--” Dean and Sam shuddered at the memory, “but I would really appreciate some breakfast. And I was promised pie?” Claire said with a smile, cutting the tension in the room with ease.

Hours later, after breakfast and pie had been eaten, and Jody had already taken away Claire’s nunchucks until further notice, Dean and Cas were left alone in the war room.

“That went a very different route than I expected,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around the angel’s waist and leading him towards their room.

“That seems to happen often in our lives, Dean,” Cas replied.

“Is it a good thing?”

“Right now, I think it is.”

Dean stopped Castiel in the doorway of the hall, and looked up at the plant hanging above their heads.

“Mistletoe,” he said, then drew his angel in for a kiss.

Christmas truly was a magical time of year.

[zenithlux]

Only the Best (VergilxReader)

In which you decide to celebrate a special Valentine’s Day with a certain, blue devil and with what you hope is an equally special gift.

Happy Valentine’s Day Ya’ll ^^ Hope you enjoy 

You've been with Vergil for almost eight months, yet Valentine's Day felt like it was going to be the most terrifying day of your life.

You had yet to decide if that qualified as being over-dramatic.

After a year and a half as Vergil’s “confidant” (the word “friend” apparently didn’t exist in his dictionary), you knew that Vergil didn’t care for holidays. Dante claimed that his brother often forgot them entirely, as he never had a reason to celebrate. And while you understood that, you were very different. Holidays were a chance to try something new, unwind, and just spend time with others. It was probably something you got from your father, who always found the craziest reasons - usually an obscure celebration of some kind - to come home with your favorite food and simple presents.

So, when you did start dating Vergil (which had surprised even you, as you evolved from “acquaintance” to “companion” after a rather honest, late-night conversation), you’d often wondered how you would handle this particular difference between you two. Every holiday since that night had been filled with excited people and other things to do. Halloween had come and gone, and you were happy to help with a costume party at the orphanage (and had been quite amused at the Batman costume the kids had begged Vergil to wear). Thanksgiving had been completely out of your hands, as Kyrie and Nico cooked everything while you were stuck at work. It had been Vergil who had dragged you out of bed after your overly long shift to join them at a rather impressive dinner. You expected Christmas to be the most difficult, as it involved presents (which Vergil always claimed he didn’t want). But his family had kept him busy on that one, and he'd actually accepted your gift in private; chocolate strawberries (you never told his family of that one) and a silver star charm for Yamato; a reminder of your first real date to the planetarium.

You were thrilled to find that attached to Yamato’s hilt the very next day. 

But Valentine's Day was something else entirely. There was no family to back you up (though Dante had cheekily offered). No chaos to hide behind. Just you and Vergil and some kind of present because you really just couldn't help yourself. And as much as he adamantly declared that he didn't need gifts… he'd never declined the few you’d given him. 

But you've also never tried to give him something so… frivolous. You’d considered buying another series present - books had been your go-to for your random bouts of gift-giving - but that seemed too simple. Too obvious. And it wasn’t often that you’d had a significant other on Valentine’s Day, and you were (mostly) certain that Vergil wouldn’t remember it. So, as you wandered the seasonal aisle at your favorite store, you were bouncing with nervous energy, determined to find something that would work. 

Except nothing felt right. It didn’t help that Vergil despised the color red on anything that wasn’t Dante’s jacket. 80% of everything you saw was already out of the question. The teddy bears were too bright. The larger stuffed animals were too cumbersome. The chocolate wouldn’t fit his tastes (you had to go far out of your way for that). He wasn’t interested in any other candies (a real shame, though you were happy to enjoy whatever sweets he passed on). The cards were all too impersonal. And the longer you circled these three aisles, the more frustrated you got. 

There had to be something. Anything that would earn that rare, adorable, and sincere smile you only saw when others weren’t around. But you couldn’t imagine giving any of these things to him… and you were quickly running out of time. Maybe if you’d thought about it sooner you could’ve done something more personal. A handwritten letter an option, though you’d only given him one of those, and you hadn’t actually seen anything but a curious, raised eyebrow when you handed it to him. The bookstore wasn’t too far away… you could always fall back on that…

“Hey!”

Nero’s voice almost startled you, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or even more embarrassed. Fortunately, his knowing smile was all you needed to wave back. “Last minute shopping?” You said. 

Nero sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I almost forgot about it.”

You laughed. Like father like son. “Well, Kyrie seems easy to shop for. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Easier than finding something for my old man, huh?”

Yep. You’d be caught. Though you really shouldn’t have been surprised. While Vergil never outright announced your relationship, everyone in the family knew. Maybe it was the way he’d started sitting beside you at every outing or leaving early to walk you home. Or possibly the nights he spent at your house instead of Devil May Cry, watching TV (which he hated in any other circumstance), or talking over tea (which he hated a little less). The most obvious sign was his lack of response to Dante’s teasing after months of harsh denial. That had been the metaphorical nail in the coffin that confirmed what everyone you knew already assumed.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. “You’re not… wrong.”

Nero laughed. “Whatcha thinking of getting him?”

You sigh. “Nothing at the moment.”

“Then you’re overthinking it.”

You blink in surprise. “What do you…?”

“He’ll love anything you buy,” Nero said with a shrug. 

“...Are we talking about the same man?”

Nero laughed as he picked through the top row of teddy bears. “I’ve only known him for a few years, but even I can tell when he’s committed.” You blushed at that, though Nero didn’t notice as he pulled down a light pink bear holding a white heart. “Trust me. Find something that speaks to you or whatever, and it’ll be enough.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

And after another loop around the aisle, you found it. The perfect gift. And that’s when the wheels started turning, piecing together all the ways to make it a Valentine’s Day he might actually enjoy.

After all, only the best was acceptable for your handsome, blue devil. 

Two days later, you couldn’t contain the painful bundle of nerves that had your stomach in knots and your heart nearly bursting from your chest. It was the first time that you’d officially invited him to your apartment, as he often just showed up on your doorstep whenever he wanted. Granted, he always conveniently knew when you were there, and you’d never had a reason (or a desire) to turn him away. But those impromptu meetings were usually dictated by him. So even he had been a bit surprised when you asked him directly with a specific time in mind, and a promise of a good meal. 

You didn’t mention the holiday, and you’d glared Dante into submission before he had a chance to spoil it. But you didn’t miss the smirk on the younger twin’s face, or the subtle thumbs up he gave you when Vergil wasn’t looking. Unfortunately, Dante’s “encouragement” hadn’t helped your nerves in the slightest. Neither had an entire day of cooking, or the panic trip to the store when you realized that you’d bought the wrong wine. Then you’d spent way too long debating if you should or shouldn’t put the rose petals on the table, or light the strawberry-scented candles, or…

A gentle knock at the door brought your thoughts to a screeching halt. You took a long, deep breath, smoothed down your blue dress, and greeted your partner with the most genuine smile you could muster. “Welcome!”

That ever familiar, curious eyebrow raise shot back at you, but you merely stepped aside to let him in. “Just in time,” You said as you wandered back to the kitchen. “The steak’s almost done.” Why were you so nervous? You felt like a teenager on a first date, not a full-grown woman having dinner with someone you’ve cooked for at least a dozen times by now. But then your thoughts strayed to the present and you swallowed another bout of nerves. 

“Are you alright?”

You jumped much further than you meant to and flushed likely as bright as a strawberry when he had to grab you before you tumbled straight to the floor. “Fine!” You said. “I’m… fine.” 

He wasn’t fooled (was he ever?). “Are you…” He paused, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, really.” You said. “Honest. I’m just…” The words ‘Losing it’ crossed your mind, and you sighed as he gently pulled yourself away. “I guess I should just get it over with, huh?” You could feel his eyes on you as you half-scurried out of the kitchen, only to return with a small, blue box with a simple, black bow. “I know, I know,” You said hastily as his eyes flickered between you and it at least twice. “You don’t like gifts. But today’s special.” You held it out to him. “So… here.”

It felt like an eternity before he took it from you, though it could’ve only been around thirty seconds, tops.  Mercifully, he didn’t waste time opening it, and your heart twisted when his eyes widened ever so slightly. The blue dragon plush was a bit larger than your hand, so you knew it would fit perfectly in his palm… if he’d actually take it out of the box. Instead, he simply stared at it, as if he wasn’t certain what it was. “When I was out shopping,” you said. “I kept thinking of what would mean the most to you.” His eyes flickered to yours. Still, he said nothing. After another deep breath, you continued with as much confidence as you could muster. “So I thought you would want something small that your brother won’t see, that can keep you company when I’m not around.”

After another quiet moment, which wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as the last one, he finally lifted it. You smiled, relieved when it did, in fact, fit perfectly in his hands, its little legs dangling just off the sides. “Your perfume,” He said in a very matter-of-fact way. But you didn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips. So close. 

“I may have slept with it the last few days,” You said. “And wearing your favorite perfume. Of course.” Finally, as the last of your nerves slipped away, you gave him a rather cheeky grin. “If you ever need more, you’ll have to come back for it.”

Finally, finally, it happened. He smiled. That genuine, relaxed, Vergil smile that you would give anything to see every day of your life. And it wasn’t a grin like Dante or Nero, but a gentle show of emotion that fit him just right. “This is very thoughtful, my love.”

Your heart fluttered in a mix of surprise and adoration. You couldn’t recall if he’d ever called you that. Maybe you missed it? Unlikely, as you had a feeling you’d never forget such a thing. Especially not when it was said with such astounding tenderness; the kind of tone that only he could ever pull off. “I’m glad you like it.” 

Then a much smaller box practically appeared in your hands, and it took far too long for you to realize it. “I’ve been informed numerous times this month that today is Valentine’s Day,” He said. Your eyes snapped to his in surprise, and you felt your cheeks flush as his fingers brushed yours when pulled his hand away from yours. “My brother stayed out of this purchase, of that much I can assure you.” 

You couldn’t hide your gasp when you saw it; a silver heart necklace with glittering sapphires in the shape of a V. “Vergil…”

“It hasn’t been long,” he said as he slowly took your hand. There was a hint of nerves in his voice, something that you’d never heard before. But it made your heart swell as he pushed through it, and brushed his thumb along your check. “But you’ve already managed to steal my heart.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Now that’s something Dante did have a hand in, yes?”

Vergil snorted but didn’t deny it. “He may have mentioned kicking me out soon. I can’t fathom why.”

You paused for a moment, even though you already knew what you wanted to say. “There’s plenty of room here,” you said as you confidently met his gaze again. “I wouldn’t mind having someone else around more often if you’d like. And your little dragon would probably prefer this place to your brother’s.”

He watched you, expression calm, face unreadable. You tilted your head. “Is everything…”

The world stopped when his lips brushed yours, but he pulled away long before your heart found its way back to its body. “I would happily live here with you, my love,” He said, smirking when he saw how much he’d caught you off guard. But, in a surge of unprecedented confidence, you practically crashed back into him with a much deeper kiss than his had been. This time, he didn’t pull away, and you knew you’d be more than happy if he never did again.

[gumnut-logic]

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 5.1

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Five – Here on Tracy Island – Part 1 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 4.1 | 4.2 | 4.3 | 4.4 | 4.5 | 4.6 | 5.1

Author: Gumnut

20 Jun 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 3313

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos I started this fic before we saw it.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph​​​​​. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D

No, I haven’t forgotten about this fic, and yes, it hit the six month mark about two weeks ago. I started writing this 8 Dec 2019. I’m nearly there.

Landmark, though. It is now officially my longest Thunderbirds fic, overtaking Gentle Rain today at around 60,000 words, depending on which word processing program it is sitting in. Never expected it to be this long.

This chapter pretty much wrote itself. It is almost like a role call of the five brothers and their states of mind. So a little bit of all the bros in this. I hope you enjoy.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom​​​ @scribbles97​​​​​ and @onereyofstarlight​​​​​ for reading through various bits, fielding my many wibblies, and for all their wonderful support.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Day Five: Here on Tracy Island

Virgil woke late the next morning. It was a pleasant awakening, slipping from deep sleep to doze to a peaceful warmth beneath the covers. His room was dark. Darker than his cabin on A Little Lightning and with decidedly less sway.

He lay there for a while, enjoying the lack of need to get up and do anything and the absence of pain. He had slept the sleep of the dead and was thoroughly rested. There was something to be said about sleeping in your own bed at home that no holiday anywhere could provide.

But honestly, he wasn’t one to sit and do nothing for long, his brain kicking into gear while he lay there, listing off things waiting to be done. A visit to Two to reassure himself she had been checked over and was ready should she be needed. Not that he didn’t trust his family, it was just for his own peace of mind.

He should be able to get away with it so long as he didn’t spend too much time down there.

It took him a full half an hour of random rumination to realise that it was Christmas Day.

Oh shit.

The clock said eleven am.

His family...

He sat up abruptly and was thoroughly reminded of how stupid such a move was.

Oh, for the love of...

He grunted and rolled over until his face was smothered in his pillow.

The medic in his brain listed off the reasons why he shouldn’t have done that and why he needed to be careful and, goddamnit, he was sick of this. It was only an appendix, for crying out loud.

Stupid surgery.

That could have been so much worse.

He was being a spoilt child.

He let out a breath into his pillow, its warmth wrapping around his face. Another week and he would be fine.

But now, it was eleven oh five on Christmas morning and he was holding his family up.

He clambered out of bed with minimal complaint from his body, into the shower, a shave and into his familiar red flannel, jeans and boots.

It was such a comfort to be home.

He blow-dried his hair, gelled it up and made himself presentable.

The man who stared at him from his bathroom mirror was one appendix less and a whole pile of experience more.

He hummed to himself, tasting the notes in his throat. He could feel the soft whale skin under his fingertips, hear the lap of the water, the breeze in his hair...

And the music.

His eyes were closed without permission, the imagery taking over his mind. His fingers tapped against the bathroom vanity marking out the beat and rhythm of what he was trying to say, the pictures warping into abstract and lack of understanding.

Salty and long spoken, the notes repeated.

He didn’t know how long he stood there under the bathroom light, eyes seeing another world somewhere below the ocean surface.

By the time he shook off the haze it was eleven forty-five.

Almost lunchtime.

Alan would be foaming at the bit.

He pushed himself away from the sink and killed the light. Walking carefully across his room, he shook himself, rolling his shoulders. Get it together, Virgil. Your family is waiting for you.

Out through the door, down the corridor and, screw the stairs, he was taking the elevator.

It swallowed him whole.

-o-o-o-

Gordon had been up since before the sun. It was a sign that he was home. A session in the pool brought familiarity into the equation. There was definitely a difference between swimming in the pool versus the ocean and it had nothing to do with water salinity.

The ocean was beautiful and he adored it. But the pool sported no threat, no need to monitor his surroundings beyond the presence of a mischievous brother or two, leaving him to be able to focus on his stroke and let his mind wander.

The pleasant warmth of well used muscles pulling him forward through the water, simple thought processing...and considering the last few days, there were a lot of thoughts awaiting examination.

Some he had managed while piloting A Little Lightning on the home stretch, but there were still more needing answers and tactical decisions.

Sam. Mel. Scott. John. Virgil.

As far as he knew, Scott was still planning on inviting the neighbours over today. That would place Sam within reach of the apparently resistant Virgil.

He understood where both men were coming from. Virgil needed time and Sam was just a ball of eager energy.

Gordon was stuck between the two.

Push came to shove, he would side with Virgil regardless. He had too. But he really didn’t want to be divisive. If Virgil would talk just a little, it would help not only Sam and himself, but it might assuage the ball of worried energy that was Scott.

His arms sliced through water until he reached the end of the lane, his body automatically flipping and turning into the push off surge in the opposite direction. Air, splash and his hands slicing through the water again.

Okay, he would admit that he was worried himself. At first it was just amazing. His brother could sing to whales! A breakthrough. But yesterday he witnessed exactly how spaced Virgil became when singing and everything screamed wary. Humpback whales were beautiful creatures, but so big and so possibly unintentionally dangerous.

He couldn’t let Virgil anywhere near a whale alone. It just wasn’t safe. There was so much they didn’t know and the urge to protect his gentle brother just swelled in his heart.

They needed to investigate further. Find out exactly what was going on. Make sure his brother was safe. That it didn’t affect any water rescues.

They couldn’t afford to have Virgil spacing out in the ocean at random. As it was, Gordon wasn’t going to let Virgil anywhere near the ocean during rescues for the foreseeable future. He could stay up in Two.

Safe.

Whale song could travel around the globe.

His native realm had become a hazard for his big brother and that was unacceptable.

They had to find out what was going on.

John and Eos had made a good start, but Sam and himself needed to investigate further and soon.

Virgil needed to cooperate for his own safety.

Gordon broke his stroke, pushed himself to the side of the pool and rested his head on the concrete a moment, letting his body float randomly.

Blood pumped through his ears, his heart still running at exercise rate.

He needed to convince Virgil.

Somehow.

-o-o-o-

Scott revelled in the early dawn light. His feet pounded on his wonderfully familiar route around the Island. A trek he hadn’t laid eyes on for a week.

His runners crunched volcanic gravel beneath them.

The sun was just rising on Christmas Day, the beautiful weather hanging strong, the sea a stretch of glass disappearing off into the horizon. His current trajectory pointed him directly south where he knew beyond the glass lay Raoul Island. A single spot in a sea of blue, so similar to the even tinier spot that was Tracy Island.

Same sea of blue.

A pokey tree appeared on the side of the track, its red flowers quite glorious in the morning sun, and he found himself grinning. Sure, he knew the correct name of the pōhutukawa tree, but Alan’s name was so much easier to pronounce and it made Mel laugh.

His legs took the strain as he jogged up the rapidly steepening trail.

If he was honest with himself, the whole no strings attached thing was a lie. He found himself thinking about the woman more the longer they were away from Raoul.

And they only left yesterday.

As soon as the sun was high enough in the sky to be polite, he would be contacting Raoul with his invitation to her, Sam and Liam. It wasn’t the only time he had invited people to the Island, they weren’t entirely hermits, but it was rare and the first time in a long time.

And he was so looking forward to it.

Penny and Parker were due after breakfast as was the tradition. As soon as everyone was awake, they would have their present opening party, always a major family event. More for the company and laughter than the presents themselves.

He could almost hear Gordon declaring it ‘Tracy style’ complete with the arm movements to compliment the claim.

But Mel...it was like he was excited to show her the Island, perhaps because he knew she would be very interested in the ecosystem that had developed here since their father had begun repairing it over a decade ago.

And he was staring at it right now as he followed the path around the back of the Island. Pokey trees, palms and ferns were everywhere a foothold was available. Scott knew very little about their ecosystem beyond the need to keep it safe. Gordon and Virgil were the ones who knew most about it among the brothers. Gordon focussed on the sea and Virgil sometimes helped out with animal numbers and photography for the scientific group.

But Mel hadn’t been here since Dad...

He grunted and hurdled a rock he hurdled every morning as the slope inverted and started heading down. The view was stunning.

Despite the glass of the ocean, the swell still crashed on the back cliffs of the Island, jagged volcanic rock resistant to the relentless pounding.

Hopefully she would consent to the visit even though it was late notice.

He did have a Thunderbird, after all.

-o-o-o-

John hadn’t slept much. He never did when something was on his mind. His everything drove him to find a solution, particularly when a brother was involved.

Eos never slept, so she was the perfect insomnia companion.

There was also the factor that he was home, but he really wasn’t.

He was missing Five.

Now he was back on the Island, everything was screaming at him to go home.

Not that he didn’t like the Island, quite the opposite. The Island contained his brothers, his grandmother, Kayo, his family and he adored his family.

But the stars were calling to him. His body ached to feel the release from gravity. He wanted his home.

He ignored it.

His body needed gravity. It was an undeniable fact. It had evolved under the pressure exerted by the planet and while his mind adored the stars and the lack of gravity, nature demanded its return under the ‘use it or lose it’ mandate of life on Earth.

So, tired, but awake anyway as the sun hit the front of the villa, John made his way down to the pool where he found Gordon, as expected, in the water, but unexpectedly, not swimming. His head was lying on one arm at the edge of the pool, his body floating lazily behind.

John dropped his towel on a lounger and, bare footed to the edge next to his brother. Folding himself into a seated position he dropped his feet to dangle in the cool water.

“Gordon?”

“Hmm?” His head rose a little blearily. “Oh, John, hey.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Huh? What, oh, Merry Christmas, John.”

A frown. “You okay?”

Gordon flexed his shoulders. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah.”

John sighed. “Same. But you do know he’s okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking it through.”

John pushed himself into the water and couldn’t help a relieved sigh as the water took away so many of the effects of gravity, cradling his body. “Swim with me?”

Brown eyes turned to him and John saw a reflection of his own worry in their depths. “Sure.” Gordon pushed off from the edge, his movements graceful despite his distraction.

John moved to the lane next to Gordon’s preferred and lined up beside his fish brother. Gordon shot him a brief but grateful smile before pushing off the end in a careless surge into stroke. He was metres ahead before John had even shifted into form.

Typical.

Show off.

But he couldn’t help but smile as he pushed off the edge himself, automatically moving into a strong but leisurely stroke in warm up.

Swimming denied verbal communication, but it wasn’t needed, the two of them just keeping each other company.

By the fifth lap, John started pushing himself, putting his body through the exercise needed to keep it healthy. He had no delusions of keeping up with Gordon. He just paced himself as his body needed it. Twenty laps in, he eased up a little and checked on his brother.

Gordon was still going. John brought himself to a halt, treading water, muscles pleasantly buzzing.

“Hey, John.” The astronaut startled, turning in place to find Scott standing on the edge of the pool. His running gear appeared well used, sweat stains prominent, and he was still breathing heavily. “Just letting you know that I’m going to be taking One out in about half an hour.”

“You going to get Mel and Sam?” Gordon was suddenly beside him. It was a sign of how tired John actually was that his younger brother startled him almost as much as Scott had a moment earlier.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come with?”

“Don’t you want to be here for when Penny arrives?”

John arched an eyebrow in Gordon’s direction. The fish had been looking forward to Christmas for that very reason. Before Virgil’s illness, it had been Penelope this, Penelope that. Apparently, he had the ‘best’ gift lined up for their first Christmas as a couple. Whether or not that was still going ahead considering recent events, John had no idea. Gordon hadn’t mentioned it since Virgil fell ill.

“I thought you had the fastest plane on the planet, Scotty.”

Their eldest brother snorted. “Plane, yes, younger brother, no.”

“Hey, I can be fast.” A strawberry blond frown. “Regardless, I need to speak to Sam.”

Scott eyed him a moment. “Virgil?”

Gordon sighed. “Yeah, Virgil. Gotta handle this delicately.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Okay, then you better be ready in thirty because that’s when I’m leaving.”

The fish was already climbing out of the pool. Wet footprints marked the concrete as he strode to his towel.

Blue eyes turned to John. “You okay? You look tired.”

John let water run through his fingers. “I am, but I’ll live.”

Voice quiet. “Virgil?”

A single nod, voice equally quiet. “Virgil. Eos, Gordon and I will work it out. We just need time.” And patience. Admittedly, he didn’t have much of that where his brothers’ health was concerned. He could fake it, but it didn’t mean he felt it.

Scott’s expression was thoughtful. “I know you will do your best. Don’t forget to look after yourself.”

A groan. This was why Virgil was always adamant that he was fine. I single hint of something wrong and their biggest brother was all over them, his concern obvious. “I’m fine, Scott.”

That earned him a grunt and John actually struggled not to smile at his brother’s exasperation. John swam to the pool edge and pushed himself out of the water. A wave in the direction of the rising sun’s reflection. “The pool is all yours, dear brother.”

Scott eyed him. “Thank you.”

The morning breeze cooled John enough to raise goose pimples on his arms. Before he could reach for his towel, Scott was handing it to him.

Ever the big brother. It was John’s turn to eye him back. “Thank you.”

Scott smiled at him, a definite smirk on those lips. He knew exactly what John was thinking and had likely done it on purpose. “Anytime.”

Hmmm. “Merry Christmas, Scott.”

Those blue eyes widened as his big brother obviously realised that despite all the preparations underway, despite the tree they had stacked with presents the night before, he had still managed to forget the significance of the day.

It was John’s turn to smirk.

But Scott recovered quickly, tilting his head, a small smile on his lips. “Merry Christmas, John.”

With that he turned and headed off into the house.

-o-o-o-

Alan loved to sleep in. He shared this love with his second eldest brother. Getting up early sucked big time and he had no coffee addiction to help him.

But there was one day of the year when you could witness the youngest Tracy out of bed, while not early, at least a decent time where breakfast could still be called breakfast and not lunch or even brunch.

Christmas Day.

Alan adored the day. Presents, food and family, what more could a guy ask for?

So, eight am found him stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen in search of the second and third items on the list. He found Grandma at the kitchen table eating her fruit and yoghurt.

Alan made no effort to be quiet, but she didn’t appear to realise he was there, staring out across the lagoon. “Grandma?”

She dropped her spoon with a clatter as it hit the bowl. “Alan!” She clutched her hand to her chest, gasping. “You frightened me. Gave my old heart a kick in the pants.”

“Sorry, Grandma. Are you okay?”

“This time. Though I wouldn’t recommend doing it too often.” She held out an arm. “C’mere and give me a Christmas hug.”

Now that was something he was quite happy to do. Grandma hugs were always appreciated. “Merry Christmas, Grandma.” He held her tight.

“Merry Christmas, honey. Are you hungry?”

Uh, that was always a loaded question and there were important indicators related to that. “Where is everyone?” He had expected to find at least John down here. His space brother would eat his breakfast staring out into the lagoon and follow it with work on his tablet just to be around family in his own way. But not today.

“Scott and Gordon have gone to Raoul to collect Ms Fisher and that scientist friend of Gordon’s.”

“Sam?”

“I guess. They were both in quite a hurry to leave.”

That set Alan grinning. “I think Scott likes Mel.”

An arched eyebrow. “I thought she liked Virgil.”

A snort accompanied the grin. “I don’t think she is Virgil’s kind of girl.”

Of course, that was the very moment Kayo decided to enter the kitchen. She had obviously been on a run, dressed in shorts and a high cut top.

“Who’s Virgil’s kind of girl?”

Alan’s eyes widened. “Um.”

Green narrowed at him. “What are you up to, Alan?”

“Nothing!” He held out his hands. “What did I do?”

“I’m more concerned with what you are going to do.”

“Suspicious, much? I’m going to eat breakfast, that’s what.”

She continued to eye him. “No practical jokes today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Gee, you’d think I was Gordy or something.”

“Gordon will be contained by Lady Penelope. You, however, are not.”

“And what? That makes me some kind of prank genius?”

“Genius, no, annoyance, yes.”

“Hey, Merry Christmas, Kayo. How about a little of the spirit?”

She glared and him and grunted before turning away and stalking off.

“What’s up her skirt?”

“Alan!”

“Well, you saw her. I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma was quiet a moment. “She has things on her mind.”

“When doesn’t she?”

“Let her be.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma sighed. “Things will work themselves out for the best.”

Alan stared at his grandmother. What on Earth was going on? Did everyone know something that he didn’t. He sighed. Wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m going grab some breakfast.”

“Yes, dear.” And Grandma was staring out at the lagoon again.

What the-?

Alan grabbed the refrigerator door and flung it open, his eyes raking its contents. Perhaps food would fix things.

A glance at Grandma found that she hadn’t moved.

There was definitely something going on.

-o-o-o-

End Day 5 Part 1