Peppermint 25, FOTD: The Christmas Horse
Title: The Christmas Horse
Main Story: In the Heart -- Caramel Project
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (chaffer: To bandy words; chatter.), peppermint 25 (horse), My Treat (Someone is stunned by a present they receive), malt (the grab bag gift: a history book and two bars of chocolate, one dark with pieces of peppermint and one white, packed in a white, square box that has barely visible silver decorations in it and is closed with a silver bow.), caramel.
Word Count: 2060
Rating: PG.
Summary: Zack gets Summer the perfect present, more or less by accident.
Notes: Some Christmas not-quite-fluff for some of my favorite people in the world. <3 Happy holidays, my darlings! Set after Charity but considerably before Lunchtimes.
"I hope he likes it," Summer said, looking down at the wrapped package in her cupped hands.
"He will," Felipe said, and leaned back in the chair he'd taken, toying with a drink. "But honestly, darling, it doesn't matter if he does or not. He'll pretend that he does, and that's all that really matters."
The break room at Central was bustling; dressed-down cops, civilian experts and people in uniform, the morgue workers and lab techs in their white coats, even a few of the higher-ups were mingling and chatting together. Carols blared out over the loudspeaker. Cheery holiday tinsel lined the doors and the walls, a small Christmas tree held court where the water cooler usually sat, an even smaller menorah glowed atop someone's desk. Someone had even made an effort and put up Solstice and Kwanzaa candles.
It was a little ridiculous, really. Usually Summer avoided holiday parties, or any sort of party, really, but Felipe had talked her into this one, had even talked her into signing up for the Secret Santa exchange.
She'd gotten Zachary Ryan. Of all the terrible jokes.
In response to Felipe's statement, she wrinkled her nose. "I don't understand why people pretend to like things that they don't really like. I know that it's good manners, but I still don't understand why."
"It's the thought that counts," Felipe said, and sipped his drink. "People get you presents because they were thinking of you, and if you say you don't like the present, then it makes them feel like they shouldn't have thought of you." He paused a moment, then added, "And it decreases the likelihood of getting presents in the future. Nobody wants that."
"Oh. That I understand," Summer said.
He laughed. "You're so cynical for one so young."
"I'm twenty-nine," she said. "That's hardly young. And it's not cynicism, it's just a well-informed belief in the essential greediness of human nature. You're a policeman; don't you think the same?"
Felipe clearly had no answer for that, because he changed the subject. "So you're going home for Christmas?"
Summer brightened at the thought of her family, as always. "Oh, yes. My train is at nine. Lars is picking me up at the station, and I'm staying with Mama and Papa."
He smiled at her, and much to her relief did not bring up the topic of her train leaving two hours after the party started. "Looking forward to seeing your nieces and nephews again?"
"Yes," she said, and smiled again, thinking of them. "Very much. The twins are almost old enough to talk sensibly to."
"Ha. Ain't that the truth," said Felipe, brother to four siblings and indulgent uncle to at least ten children and counting. "What are they, seven?"
Summer avoided having to state the obvious only through the arrival of Officer Zachary Ryan, who squeezed past a couple of uniformed officers, shook out the sleeves of his worn-out sports jacket, and said, "The Metro's goddamn murder tonight, Claro. You could've offered to..." He stopped dead, catching sight of Summer, and she clamped down hard on a tiny prick of pain. "Dr. Kendall," he said, stiffly.
"Take the stick out of your ass, Ryan," Felipe said, cheerfully.
"Shut up," Officer Ryan said, and flipped him off. He dropped into the chair next to Felipe with a thump. "God, and you've even got alcohol. I couldn't get near the bar." He reached over and nipped Felipe's drink out of his hand, forestalling protest with, "Save it for someone who cares."
Felipe threw up his hands and kicked back in the chair again, balancing it on two legs with his feet on someone's desk. "I can't win. You can't win," he told the world.
Summer, reminded irresistibly of Aaron and Ivy, bit back a smile and looked down at her hands. "I'll leave you two..." she started.
"No, no," Felipe said, and got up. "Stay, darling."
It seemed to Summer that he shot a glance at Officer Ryan then, and that Officer Ryan sneered at him right back. She couldn't begin to read the emotions behind either expression, though, especially since they didn't last more than a half-second before Felipe stretched, exaggeratedly. "Since this jerk," he slapped at Officer Ryan's shoulder, and missed, "has stolen my drink, I'm going to go get another one. And I'm putting it on your tab, Zack," he added. "We'll call it a Christmas present."
Officer Ryan snickered. "You wish that was your Christmas present from me."
"Yeah, yeah," Felipe said. "Play nice with Summer, or I'll gag you." He waved, and disappeared into the crowd.
Summer remained standing, frozen with her present in her hands. This was a good time to give it. She should just hand it over and leave. She had to make her train, or she wouldn't get home in time for Christmas.
She couldn't make herself move.
Evidently even Officer Ryan noticed it, because he waved at the chair Felipe had abandoned. "Sit down," he said. "I'll be nice. It's Christmas."
Summer sat down, tentatively, balancing on the very edge of the seat with her back ramrod straight. "It's not," she said. "It's Christmas Eve."
He eyed her sharply, then shrugged, and drank half of whatever it was in Felipe's glass. "Guess it is. It's still time to be nice."
They sat in awkward silence for another moment before Summer decided to venture a question, borrowed from Felipe. "Are you... going home for Christmas?"
That earned her a surprised look. "No," he said, after a moment. "My family's coming here. Dad and Paige, my sister, they're already in town, and Mom's getting here tomorrow."
"Are your parents divorced?" Summer asked, without thinking.
He sat up, stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"I..." she faltered. "I'm sorry, that's personal. I just thought... you said they were coming in separately."
He stared at her for another moment, then slowly relaxed back into the seat. "You're right. Sorry. Yeah, they're divorced. Negotiating holidays with both of them gets interesting sometimes, so I'm a little tense about it."
It was, Summer decided after a moment, an apology. She nodded, tentatively. "I understand. A little. I think. My brother's parents are divorced."
Officer Ryan gave her a puzzled look-- confusion was the one emotion Summer could get every time-- and opened his mouth to say something.
Summer didn't think she could bear a smart remark or even trying to explain her complicated family relations, so instead she shoved the present at him with shaking hands. "Here. This is for you. Secret Santa," she added, when the puzzled look got even more puzzled.
"That's not how--" he started, but he must have changed his mind, because he ended with, "Thank you." He took the present, settled it on his lap, and after another confused look at her, unwrapped it.
He stared at the package for a moment, then said, "Is this an ornament?"
"Um," Summer said, beginning to feel as if she'd made a mistake. "Yes. My... Lars likes them."
He glanced up sharply at that, then looked back down at the ornament. Summer looked at it too, miserably. It had looked rather nice in the store, a different shape on the bed of fake snow among all the red and gold and crystal spheres. The little bear with policeman's cap perched jauntily atop its ears and uniform crisp and shining had seemed perfect.
But maybe it wasn't. Maybe she'd messed up. Again.
"This is... really cute," he said, at last. "Paige is gonna tease me about it." He grinned, suddenly, and Summer blinked, surprised. "I like it. Thanks."
"I'm glad," she remembered to say. "You're welcome."
Felipe burst back in just then, with something green in a glass. He peered down at them and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "You started the gift-giving without me!"
"Suck it, Claro," Officer Ryan suggested.
"Just for that," Felipe said, "I'm not giving you your present until New Year's."
"Ha," Officer Ryan said. "You're not giving me my present until New Year's because you haven't bought it yet."
"So I haven't found something suitably ridiculous." Felipe shrugged. "Anyway, the only reason you know that is because you haven't bought mine yet either." He reached over Summer, who ducked obligingly, and pulled a square white box from underneath his abandoned suit jacket. "Summer, darling, this is for you. Merry Christmas."
Officer Ryan snickered on seeing the impeccable wrapping. "Felipe, you are such a metrosexual."
"You know it!" Felipe said cheerfully, and did something with his pelvis that she tried not to see.
Summer, choosing probably the safest of all possible options, ignored both of them. Instead, she took the surprisingly heavy box, undid the perfect silver bow, and admired the nearly-invisible silver swirls on the lid before lifting it to find the latest biography of Temple Grandin and a couple of her favorite chocolate bars. "Oh, thank you! I've been meaning to read this."
"I know," Felipe said. "I do listen to what you say, I promise."
She smiled at him. "Well, thank you still. Merry Christmas."
"Guess that just leaves me," Officer Ryan said, and pulled a bundle of blue wrapping paper out of his pocket. "Merry Christmas, Dr. Kendall. Someone--" and here he directed a glare at Felipe-- "must have rigged the Santa drawing, because I got you, too."
"I didn't do anything," Felipe said, unconvincingly. "Did you wrap that with your teeth, Zack?"
Summer tsked quietly. "Boys," she said, and was surprised and a little amused when both of them laughed and shut up. "Thank you, Officer Ryan." She took the little package, felt something hard in it, and unwrapped it-- not without some effort, since there was far more paper than necessary and tape was stuck on apparantly at random-- to find a small horse, smaller than her palm, carved from some pale wood.
And was abruptly plunged into memory.
She was maybe five years old, sitting on a porch next to Grandpa Jack, who had with a knife and a block of wood. Curls of shaved wood dropped onto the snow below as he whittled; their breath puffed out like mist. She'd begged to see, but he'd laughed and said she could wait until Christmas like everyone else, like he'd done every Christmas. And every Christmas there had been a new little wooden toy, a bird or a cat or a fish. She kept them lined up on her dresser even now.
He'd died the day after Christmas the year she turned ten, lying in a hospital bed paper-thin and white as milk, and he'd still found the time and the energy somewhere to whittle her a tiny owl.
"Summer?" That was Felipe, sounding alarmed. "Darling, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, automatically, still staring at the wooden horse. She found, to her surprise, that she was blinking back tears. "I... thank you, very much. This is wonderful."
She looked up, finally, and found both Felipe and Officer Ryan staring at her, both of them looking vaguely worried. "You're welcome?" Officer Ryan said, at last.
Summer cupped the horse in both her hands and held it tight. "I love it," she told him, sincerely. "It's beautiful."
"Uh, thanks," he said, settling back into the chair uncertainly. "I made it. I whittle when I'm bored."
Her heart spasmed again and she clutched the horse tight. "You're very good," she said, for lack of anything better.
"Thanks," he said, and glanced at Felipe. "Um, I'm gonna go get another drink." He was up and gone before either one of them could say something.
Felipe dropped into his chair. "Whew. You're sure you're all right, darling?"
"Yes," Summer said. "I'm sure. Just a memory." She opened her hands and looked at the horse again, stroked its tiny carved mane. "I can't believe he... I thought he didn't like me."
"Hmm," Felipe said. A moment later, he added, "He does like you, you know. Quite a bit. He just hasn't figured it out yet."
Summer looked down at the little carved horse in her cupped hands, and said nothing.
Main Story: In the Heart -- Caramel Project
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (chaffer: To bandy words; chatter.), peppermint 25 (horse), My Treat (Someone is stunned by a present they receive), malt (the grab bag gift: a history book and two bars of chocolate, one dark with pieces of peppermint and one white, packed in a white, square box that has barely visible silver decorations in it and is closed with a silver bow.), caramel.
Word Count: 2060
Rating: PG.
Summary: Zack gets Summer the perfect present, more or less by accident.
Notes: Some Christmas not-quite-fluff for some of my favorite people in the world. <3 Happy holidays, my darlings! Set after Charity but considerably before Lunchtimes.
"I hope he likes it," Summer said, looking down at the wrapped package in her cupped hands.
"He will," Felipe said, and leaned back in the chair he'd taken, toying with a drink. "But honestly, darling, it doesn't matter if he does or not. He'll pretend that he does, and that's all that really matters."
The break room at Central was bustling; dressed-down cops, civilian experts and people in uniform, the morgue workers and lab techs in their white coats, even a few of the higher-ups were mingling and chatting together. Carols blared out over the loudspeaker. Cheery holiday tinsel lined the doors and the walls, a small Christmas tree held court where the water cooler usually sat, an even smaller menorah glowed atop someone's desk. Someone had even made an effort and put up Solstice and Kwanzaa candles.
It was a little ridiculous, really. Usually Summer avoided holiday parties, or any sort of party, really, but Felipe had talked her into this one, had even talked her into signing up for the Secret Santa exchange.
She'd gotten Zachary Ryan. Of all the terrible jokes.
In response to Felipe's statement, she wrinkled her nose. "I don't understand why people pretend to like things that they don't really like. I know that it's good manners, but I still don't understand why."
"It's the thought that counts," Felipe said, and sipped his drink. "People get you presents because they were thinking of you, and if you say you don't like the present, then it makes them feel like they shouldn't have thought of you." He paused a moment, then added, "And it decreases the likelihood of getting presents in the future. Nobody wants that."
"Oh. That I understand," Summer said.
He laughed. "You're so cynical for one so young."
"I'm twenty-nine," she said. "That's hardly young. And it's not cynicism, it's just a well-informed belief in the essential greediness of human nature. You're a policeman; don't you think the same?"
Felipe clearly had no answer for that, because he changed the subject. "So you're going home for Christmas?"
Summer brightened at the thought of her family, as always. "Oh, yes. My train is at nine. Lars is picking me up at the station, and I'm staying with Mama and Papa."
He smiled at her, and much to her relief did not bring up the topic of her train leaving two hours after the party started. "Looking forward to seeing your nieces and nephews again?"
"Yes," she said, and smiled again, thinking of them. "Very much. The twins are almost old enough to talk sensibly to."
"Ha. Ain't that the truth," said Felipe, brother to four siblings and indulgent uncle to at least ten children and counting. "What are they, seven?"
Summer avoided having to state the obvious only through the arrival of Officer Zachary Ryan, who squeezed past a couple of uniformed officers, shook out the sleeves of his worn-out sports jacket, and said, "The Metro's goddamn murder tonight, Claro. You could've offered to..." He stopped dead, catching sight of Summer, and she clamped down hard on a tiny prick of pain. "Dr. Kendall," he said, stiffly.
"Take the stick out of your ass, Ryan," Felipe said, cheerfully.
"Shut up," Officer Ryan said, and flipped him off. He dropped into the chair next to Felipe with a thump. "God, and you've even got alcohol. I couldn't get near the bar." He reached over and nipped Felipe's drink out of his hand, forestalling protest with, "Save it for someone who cares."
Felipe threw up his hands and kicked back in the chair again, balancing it on two legs with his feet on someone's desk. "I can't win. You can't win," he told the world.
Summer, reminded irresistibly of Aaron and Ivy, bit back a smile and looked down at her hands. "I'll leave you two..." she started.
"No, no," Felipe said, and got up. "Stay, darling."
It seemed to Summer that he shot a glance at Officer Ryan then, and that Officer Ryan sneered at him right back. She couldn't begin to read the emotions behind either expression, though, especially since they didn't last more than a half-second before Felipe stretched, exaggeratedly. "Since this jerk," he slapped at Officer Ryan's shoulder, and missed, "has stolen my drink, I'm going to go get another one. And I'm putting it on your tab, Zack," he added. "We'll call it a Christmas present."
Officer Ryan snickered. "You wish that was your Christmas present from me."
"Yeah, yeah," Felipe said. "Play nice with Summer, or I'll gag you." He waved, and disappeared into the crowd.
Summer remained standing, frozen with her present in her hands. This was a good time to give it. She should just hand it over and leave. She had to make her train, or she wouldn't get home in time for Christmas.
She couldn't make herself move.
Evidently even Officer Ryan noticed it, because he waved at the chair Felipe had abandoned. "Sit down," he said. "I'll be nice. It's Christmas."
Summer sat down, tentatively, balancing on the very edge of the seat with her back ramrod straight. "It's not," she said. "It's Christmas Eve."
He eyed her sharply, then shrugged, and drank half of whatever it was in Felipe's glass. "Guess it is. It's still time to be nice."
They sat in awkward silence for another moment before Summer decided to venture a question, borrowed from Felipe. "Are you... going home for Christmas?"
That earned her a surprised look. "No," he said, after a moment. "My family's coming here. Dad and Paige, my sister, they're already in town, and Mom's getting here tomorrow."
"Are your parents divorced?" Summer asked, without thinking.
He sat up, stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"I..." she faltered. "I'm sorry, that's personal. I just thought... you said they were coming in separately."
He stared at her for another moment, then slowly relaxed back into the seat. "You're right. Sorry. Yeah, they're divorced. Negotiating holidays with both of them gets interesting sometimes, so I'm a little tense about it."
It was, Summer decided after a moment, an apology. She nodded, tentatively. "I understand. A little. I think. My brother's parents are divorced."
Officer Ryan gave her a puzzled look-- confusion was the one emotion Summer could get every time-- and opened his mouth to say something.
Summer didn't think she could bear a smart remark or even trying to explain her complicated family relations, so instead she shoved the present at him with shaking hands. "Here. This is for you. Secret Santa," she added, when the puzzled look got even more puzzled.
"That's not how--" he started, but he must have changed his mind, because he ended with, "Thank you." He took the present, settled it on his lap, and after another confused look at her, unwrapped it.
He stared at the package for a moment, then said, "Is this an ornament?"
"Um," Summer said, beginning to feel as if she'd made a mistake. "Yes. My... Lars likes them."
He glanced up sharply at that, then looked back down at the ornament. Summer looked at it too, miserably. It had looked rather nice in the store, a different shape on the bed of fake snow among all the red and gold and crystal spheres. The little bear with policeman's cap perched jauntily atop its ears and uniform crisp and shining had seemed perfect.
But maybe it wasn't. Maybe she'd messed up. Again.
"This is... really cute," he said, at last. "Paige is gonna tease me about it." He grinned, suddenly, and Summer blinked, surprised. "I like it. Thanks."
"I'm glad," she remembered to say. "You're welcome."
Felipe burst back in just then, with something green in a glass. He peered down at them and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "You started the gift-giving without me!"
"Suck it, Claro," Officer Ryan suggested.
"Just for that," Felipe said, "I'm not giving you your present until New Year's."
"Ha," Officer Ryan said. "You're not giving me my present until New Year's because you haven't bought it yet."
"So I haven't found something suitably ridiculous." Felipe shrugged. "Anyway, the only reason you know that is because you haven't bought mine yet either." He reached over Summer, who ducked obligingly, and pulled a square white box from underneath his abandoned suit jacket. "Summer, darling, this is for you. Merry Christmas."
Officer Ryan snickered on seeing the impeccable wrapping. "Felipe, you are such a metrosexual."
"You know it!" Felipe said cheerfully, and did something with his pelvis that she tried not to see.
Summer, choosing probably the safest of all possible options, ignored both of them. Instead, she took the surprisingly heavy box, undid the perfect silver bow, and admired the nearly-invisible silver swirls on the lid before lifting it to find the latest biography of Temple Grandin and a couple of her favorite chocolate bars. "Oh, thank you! I've been meaning to read this."
"I know," Felipe said. "I do listen to what you say, I promise."
She smiled at him. "Well, thank you still. Merry Christmas."
"Guess that just leaves me," Officer Ryan said, and pulled a bundle of blue wrapping paper out of his pocket. "Merry Christmas, Dr. Kendall. Someone--" and here he directed a glare at Felipe-- "must have rigged the Santa drawing, because I got you, too."
"I didn't do anything," Felipe said, unconvincingly. "Did you wrap that with your teeth, Zack?"
Summer tsked quietly. "Boys," she said, and was surprised and a little amused when both of them laughed and shut up. "Thank you, Officer Ryan." She took the little package, felt something hard in it, and unwrapped it-- not without some effort, since there was far more paper than necessary and tape was stuck on apparantly at random-- to find a small horse, smaller than her palm, carved from some pale wood.
And was abruptly plunged into memory.
She was maybe five years old, sitting on a porch next to Grandpa Jack, who had with a knife and a block of wood. Curls of shaved wood dropped onto the snow below as he whittled; their breath puffed out like mist. She'd begged to see, but he'd laughed and said she could wait until Christmas like everyone else, like he'd done every Christmas. And every Christmas there had been a new little wooden toy, a bird or a cat or a fish. She kept them lined up on her dresser even now.
He'd died the day after Christmas the year she turned ten, lying in a hospital bed paper-thin and white as milk, and he'd still found the time and the energy somewhere to whittle her a tiny owl.
"Summer?" That was Felipe, sounding alarmed. "Darling, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, automatically, still staring at the wooden horse. She found, to her surprise, that she was blinking back tears. "I... thank you, very much. This is wonderful."
She looked up, finally, and found both Felipe and Officer Ryan staring at her, both of them looking vaguely worried. "You're welcome?" Officer Ryan said, at last.
Summer cupped the horse in both her hands and held it tight. "I love it," she told him, sincerely. "It's beautiful."
"Uh, thanks," he said, settling back into the chair uncertainly. "I made it. I whittle when I'm bored."
Her heart spasmed again and she clutched the horse tight. "You're very good," she said, for lack of anything better.
"Thanks," he said, and glanced at Felipe. "Um, I'm gonna go get another drink." He was up and gone before either one of them could say something.
Felipe dropped into his chair. "Whew. You're sure you're all right, darling?"
"Yes," Summer said. "I'm sure. Just a memory." She opened her hands and looked at the horse again, stroked its tiny carved mane. "I can't believe he... I thought he didn't like me."
"Hmm," Felipe said. A moment later, he added, "He does like you, you know. Quite a bit. He just hasn't figured it out yet."
Summer looked down at the little carved horse in her cupped hands, and said nothing.