#no matter which route kira always loses her dad's ring during the murphy stuff and mason always finds it and returns it

[haledamage]

Rhicember 12/22

I got you something… - Kira/Mason

“I got you something.”

Kira held a small black box out to Mason. He stared at it suspiciously.

“Why?” He managed to fit a remarkable amount of contempt in that single word.

She sighed and shook the box in his direction, insistent. “Just take it.”

“Hope you aren’t expecting a gift in return, sweetheart,” he said, though he still didn’t make any move toward the box.

“I’m not stupid.” She rolled her eyes. She took a step closer to him, ready to attempt to force him to take the gift if she had to. “Fucking take it, Mason. It’s not going to bite you.”

He finally relented, though he clearly didn’t believe it to not be dangerous, eyeing it and her warily. He opened the box and wariness gave away to confusion as he pulled out a simple door key. “The fuck is this?”

“It’s a key.” He just kept glaring at her, so she sighed and added, “Follow me.”

Surprisingly, he did. She led him out of the apartment and up the stairs, all the way up to the top. She took the key from him to unlock the door leading up onto the roof and into the cold night air. Kira stopped just past the doorway and watched Mason as he slowly walked past her, some of the tension draining from his shoulders as he looked around.

It was a simple, flat roof of stone and concrete, a waist-high wall around the outside edge, pretty barren except for a few service units and air vents scattered about. Near the middle was a bell tent, barely more than just a pole draped in canvas, with an electric lantern, a space heater, and a clear, waterproof plastic case filled with books. It was a chilly winter night, but the roof was clear of snow and somehow it never felt as cold up here as it should.

“Even as small as Wayhaven is, sometimes it’s just… too much,” Kira said quietly, not wanting to break the calm she always felt in this place. “So I come up here. No one else does, or at least I’ve never seen them. In the middle of the night, it can feel like I’m the only person awake in the whole world.”

“It’s quiet,” Mason said, and there was something almost gentle and awed in his tone. He stood at the edge of the roof, staring down at the street far below them. “Why did you show me this?”

“Because I knew you’d get it. I…” she tried to decide how best to answer. After a moment of consideration, she decided to just tell him the truth. “I had no idea what to get you for Christmas. It didn’t seem right to not get you anything, since I got something for everyone else, especially considering… well, considering. But you don’t strike me as the type that likes sentimental knick knacks.”

He scoffed in clear agreement, but even that was softer, less hostile than she was used to hearing from him.

“I wanted to give you…” she paused. Everything she wanted to say sounded too cheesy. This is a piece of me I’ve never shared with anyone else, she wanted to tell him. Please just take it. She finally settled on saying, “Peace. At least a little bit of it. With that key, you can come up here anytime you want. I come up a lot, but if you don’t want company, just let me know you’re here and I’ll make sure to leave you alone. The tent blocks the worst of the wind, and for really cold nights there’s a heater if you--”

“Kira,” he said, and her rambling stopped abruptly at the unfamiliar sound of her name from his lips. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said softly. “Happy Christmas, Mason.”

“Yeah. You too.” He held her gaze for a long moment, his stormy gray eyes unreadable, before he looked away abruptly, shoving his fingers through his hair. “I hope you’re still not expecting a fucking gift.”

“I don’t need one. That isn’t what this is about.”

Mason walked over to a corner of the waist-high wall along the edge of the roof and leaned against it, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. He stared out over the sleeping town, smoke curling lazily around him in the cold dark. Kira watched him, unable to look away; she’d never seen him so at ease, shoulders relaxed and a small smile on his lips that on anyone else she would have called sweet. Not for the first time, it made her wish she were an artist, so she could immortalize this moment. She settled for burning it into her memory instead.

He shifted a little under her stare, tensing for just a second, and then he surprised her by holding an arm out, beckoning her closer. She didn’t even hesitate.

She fit against his side like she was meant to be there, like they were made to fit together. Stupid, sentimental, but she didn’t fight the feeling this time or the strange warmth that settled in her chest at his proximity. Blame it on Christmas, on the twinkling fairy lights far below them, on the cold winter air that never quite intruded on their hideaway enough to force them back inside her apartment.

Leave it to Mason to ruin the moment. “I bet that tent’s big enough for two,” he said, voice low and sultry, close enough that his lips brushed the shell of her ear.

Kira blushed, her face going much redder than could be blamed on the cold. “We should probably go back inside,” she said, keeping her voice strong but unable to look him in the eye.

“Bed in there’s big enough for two as well.” He chuckled, and she knew the shiver down her spine couldn’t be blamed on the cold either. His arm, which had been casually wrapped around her waist, slid lower until his hand settled firmly on her hip. “Come on.”

Despite the flush on her cheeks, she followed him willingly toward the door, his arm still snugly around her. “I’m a bit disappointed in you, Mason,” she said, and though she could nowhere near match the kind of teasing tone he was capable of, she did a decent job of it.

His smirk said he agreed. “In what way?”

“No jokes about unwrapping my gift? About you being my Christmas present? Really.” She opened the door back into the warm apartment building. “I left the door wide open, but you never stepped through.”

-------

Three days later, Kira walked into her room at the warehouse to find a box on her pillow. It wasn’t wrapped; it wasn’t even a fancy box, just a simple brown box about the size of a pack of playing cards.

She opened it with a strange sense of trepidation and poured the contents into her hand. Inside was a plain gold ring on an equally plain black leather cord. She stared at it in confusion for several long moments before she realized what it was she was looking at. When she did, she collapsed onto the edge of her bed, her legs no longer able to support her weight.

She wasn’t surprised when she heard Mason’s voice from the door, but she didn’t look away from the ring. Couldn’t look away from the ring. “I found it after the fight with Murphy. After the medics took you away. Had it fixed and cleaned up. Thought you might want it back.”

“It,” her voice broke and she cleared her throat before she tried again. “It was my dad’s wedding ring.” She turned it slowly between her fingers, watching the light play off the warm gold band. “I thought I’d lost it. Mason…” she didn’t know what else she intended to say, so she just looked at him.

“You did. Lucky you’ve got me around to pick up after you.” He scowled at whatever he saw on her face. “If you start crying, I’m fucking leaving.”

Kira blinked hard, forcing the tears back before they could fall. When that didn’t work well enough, she crossed the room in three quick steps and wrapped Mason in a hug. She expected him to push her away, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled her flush against him, one hand sliding into her hair and cupping the back of her head in an almost protective way. They stayed that way for a long time, just clinging silently to each other in the open doorway.

“Thank you,” she said softly when she thought she could trust her voice. “I’m--I can’t--I--”

“Shh,” Mason said, barely more than a whisper, just enough to interrupt her. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”