Fic: Because It's Christmas
Title: Because It's Christmas
Author: reve_silencieux
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Peter, Neal, Elizabeth, Mozzie
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,960
Beta: sherylyn
Summary: It's Peter's favorite season, and all he wants to do is relax at home with his wife... his plans change.
Author's Note: Title and lyrics taken from Barry Manilow's song, Because It's Christmas. This is for my flist and the ladies in wcwu, thanks for welcoming me this year! It's unapologetically fluff-pure fluff. No angst in sight. I cannot be blamed for any cavities it might cause. :D
Because It’s Christmas
Because it's Christmas
For now and forever
For all of the children
And for the children in us all
Peter took a deep breath and smiled when he opened the front door. The sweet scent that filled the house was one of sugar and spice, and reminded him of afternoons watching and waiting as his mother baked all manner of cookies - most that he only got to have during the holidays. Aside from baseball season, it was one of his favorite times of year.
While the childlike wonder was hard to recapture as an adult, coming home to cookies and hearing Christmas music playing softly was enough for him. He hummed appreciatively when he recognized the music as the Rat Pack singing classic carols. It was a welcome relief after being assailed with overdone pop renditions everywhere he went. A quiet evening with his wife, just the two of them and a blanket on the couch, sipping cider, filled him with a warmth and happiness that made him smile even wider. It was perfect.
After dropping his briefcase on the floor and putting up his coat, he walked the few steps into the living room and stopped cold.
"Neal?!"
The normally well-dressed and -coiffed con man was sitting hunched over at his kitchen table, the sleeves of his casual sweater pushed up and, if Peter wasn't mistaken, a wisp of white in his tousled hair. Neal's head turned around and he grinned. "Hey Peter!"
Peter stalked towards the dining room, his fleeting happiness fading as the frown stretched across his face. "What are you doing here? I thought you were sick."
"Sick of mortgage fraud," his wayward CI replied and bent his head back down over whatever had captured his attention.
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Neal, you can't just skip out on work when you feel like it."
El came out of the kitchen at that moment and wiped her hands on a towel. "Oh, stop, Peter. Everyone does - it's called taking a mental health day." She sidled up to him carefully, making sure not to touch him - there was flour all over the apron she was wearing - and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Hey, hon."
"Hey, hon," he greeted her with a tired voice. All thoughts of a relaxing evening vanished, and he wondered what he'd have to do to get Neal out of his house tonight. "So, Neal, do I want to know what you've been up to all day, with my wife, might I add?"
"Baking cookies."
Peter blinked. He glanced at El, who just smiled back at him. "You know how June hired me to plan the reception for the Children's Hospital Benefit that she chairs?" Peter nodded absently, but honestly couldn't remember this particular event out of the many she had scheduled for the holiday season. "Well, The Greatest Cake is actually providing Christmas cookies for it, and when Neal and I were talking the other day, he remarked that it was sad that the kids didn't get to enjoy any of it. So we decided we should bake some ourselves to bring to them."
He... they... cookies. Peter shook his head. "You played hooky to... bake?" That was a new one. "Why couldn't The Greatest Cake just bake some more for the kids?" He didn't even want to ask how involved Neal was with his latest business acquisition. He would really rather not know.
"Oh, hon, they're swamped as it is. It's the holidays, after all. Besides, Neal came up with a great theme, and it required… well, a personal touch," El explained, still smiling.
"A theme?" he echoed. Of course. It wouldn't be a Neal Caffrey project if there wasn't something difficult about it.
Neal fully turned around in his seat, looking up at him. It was then that Peter realized it was flour in Neal's hair. He wondered if he could take a picture, just so he could tease him later. "Elizabeth and I were talking about our favorite cookies, and I asked her if she'd ever had Basler Brunsli."
"Bas-what?"
"It's a Swiss chocolate almond spice cookie. I then realized there were probably a lot of foods these kids have never tried. Most of them have probably never had the opportunity to travel, or ever will. So we decided we'd bring a bit of the world to them - Christmas cookies from around the world."
Okay, that, Peter had to admit, was a nice idea. He softened just a little and gave Neal a small nod. Elizabeth squeezed his hand and gave him a knowing look. It was a slippery slope giving Neal any kind of leeway, but he could accept it just this once.
"So will I recognize any of these fancy cookies of yours?" he asked, walking over to the kitchen table.
Expecting strange or exotic cookies, instead he found a baking sheet full of gingerbread cutouts in front of Neal - meticulously decorated in tiny sprinkles. In particular, there was a line of Nutcracker soldiers perfectly outfitted in all of their colorful regalia.
"Seriously? How are you even-" Peter stopped and shook his head. Did it even matter?
Neal grinned and held up his tool of choice. "Tweezers."
Peter rolled his eyes. Only Neal would go that far just for cookies. And it looked like he'd been at it for quite a while. There were cooling racks stacked high, full of both sugar and gingerbread cookies, all beautifully decorated, although thankfully most not as detailed as the Nutcrackers. The elves and Santas were particularly colorful, but Rudolph was the most minimalist, with only antlers and a red nose. The snowflakes were simply gorgeous - blue and white with tiny silver balls.
"I thought you were making cookies from around the world," he replied, dryly, not even bothering to point out the ridiculousness of Neal's current endeavors. Nothing would dissuade him. Neal was an artist at his core, and he gave all his effort to (most) everything.
"Oh, we are, but we thought for the less-adventurous types, they might like something familiar," El explained with a teasing smile, and Peter rolled his eyes.
She walked toward the end of the table, and pointed to one rack. "There's Polish Chrusciki, leckerli - which Neal and I are in a debate whether they’re French or Swiss - Czech vanilkove rohlicky or vanilla crescents, and Italian Baci di Dama. We also have German Pfeffernusse, French Madeleines and Anisbedele, Belgian Gaulettes, and Greek Melomakarona. We're still working though, and coming up next are alfajores that are popular in Spain and South America, Danish Pepper Nuts, and the Basler Brunsli.”
Peter would be the first to admit he didn’t have an adventurous palate, but the cookies looked good. However, one of his favorites caught his eye and he picked up a chocolate crinkle cookie topped with powdered sugar. Neal held up a hand as if to stop him, but he paid him no mind. If they were baking in his house, he could very well have one of them.
He bit into it, the chocolate crumbling in his mouth, and immediately he scrunched up his eyes in disgust. A napkin was thrust in front of him, and he grabbed it gratefully, spitting it out. Glancing up, Peter eyed his wife and partner suspiciously. Neal was laughing, while El at least looked sympathetic, but on the verge of laughter too.
“What was that?”
El handed him a glass of water. “Mozzie baked some dairy and gluten free cookies. He didn’t want any kids to feel left out.”
Peter gulped the water down. He shook his head. “I think those kids would be better off without his good intentions. Mozzie should stick to-” he stopped.
“His day job?” Neal finished for him, grinning.
He shot Neal a look. “No, but perhaps leave the baking to the professionals, or at least use a recipe.”
“Oh, he did!” El replied cheerfully. Neal coughed and she shrugged. “Okay, well, he based it off another recipe. He found one for avocado brownies.”
“Avocado?!” Peter was afraid to ask.
“Instead of butter,” she said simply, and calmly took the balled up napkin from him and left the room.
Peter sighed. He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.
“Here, try this one. You’ll like it.” Neal picked up a delicate sandwich cookie, with a red filling showing through a small circular cutout. “It’s a Linzer cookie - raspberry filling though, instead of the traditional Austrian black currant. We figured that would go over better with the kids.”
He accepted the cookie and took a small bite, making an appreciative sound as the sweet almond cookie melted in his mouth. It was heavenly compared to the one he’d just had. “That’s good.”
“Thanks. So what was your favorite growing up? And please don’t say sugar cookies. It doesn’t matter if they’re decorated, there’s so much more to enjoy than a simple sugar cookie.”
Peter pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Well, I’m sure it’s simple to you, but I loved my mom’s checkerboard cookies. I would eat the vanilla squares first, leaving the chocolate for last.”
Neal nodded. “Simple, but good. We almost made them, but had to draw the line somewhere.”
“How many have you made?”
“Fifteen so far, not including Mozzie’s.”
Peter grimaced. “Better not to.”
Neal chuckled. “Yeah, we won’t be subjecting the kids to his baking.”
Leaning back in his chair, Peter crossed his arms and relaxed. “I didn’t think Mozzie celebrated Christmas.”
“He doesn’t, but this is for the kids," he explained, with a small shrug. "I know he always sends money back to Jeffries to make sure the kids have something to open on Christmas. It’s his soft spot.”
Nodding, Peter smiled. “So what was your favorite as a kid?”
Waving his hand over the gingerbread cookies, Neal replied, “We didn’t have many, but every year we made gingerbread. I got to pick out what cookie cutters to use, and then decorate them. It was mostly basic sprinkles and sugar, though, nothing like this. My mom never had the patience, and would just shake red and green sugar over most of them.”
“Ahhh… so that explains the painstaking detail you’re going to now.”
“Hey, anyone can sprinkle sugar,” Neal retorted. “I want to give these kids something special. Something they’ll remember.”
“Oh, I think they’ll remember this.” Peter leaned forward and pointed at the decorations. “Now move those sprinkle things over. I may not be Picasso, but I think I can at least decorate the gingerbread boys and girls.”
“Nonpareils, Peter, they’re called nonpareils.”
“Whatever, it’s all sugar.”
Neal sighed. “At least let me get you some tweezers.”
“Seriously? I think I can handle decorating a cookie without using my wife’s hygiene accoutrements.”
“Go wash your hands first, and then show me that you can pick up a single ball from that bowl.”
Peter grumbled but got up and washed his hands in the kitchen. El was busy mixing up more cookie dough and gave him a bright smile. When he sat back down, he carefully tried to pick up a small flat red disc to use as a button. Quickly he realized what Neal meant, as he fumbled with the small sugar nonpar-things.
Sheepishly he looked up and Neal held out tweezers.
“Be gentle, they snap easily.”
Peter shook his head, and resigned himself to a night of tedium. It was for a good cause, he reminded himself. And hopefully he could save some for himself.
The back door opened just then, and Mozzie walked in, arms laden with grocery bags. “Oh good, Suit, you’re here. Excellent timing. You can help crack nuts for my rugelach while I shape the dough.”
He swallowed his comment about fruit and nuts, and sighed once more. Most wonderful time of the year, indeed.
Author: reve_silencieux
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Peter, Neal, Elizabeth, Mozzie
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,960
Beta: sherylyn
Summary: It's Peter's favorite season, and all he wants to do is relax at home with his wife... his plans change.
Author's Note: Title and lyrics taken from Barry Manilow's song, Because It's Christmas. This is for my flist and the ladies in wcwu, thanks for welcoming me this year! It's unapologetically fluff-pure fluff. No angst in sight. I cannot be blamed for any cavities it might cause. :D
Because It’s Christmas
Because it's Christmas
For now and forever
For all of the children
And for the children in us all
Peter took a deep breath and smiled when he opened the front door. The sweet scent that filled the house was one of sugar and spice, and reminded him of afternoons watching and waiting as his mother baked all manner of cookies - most that he only got to have during the holidays. Aside from baseball season, it was one of his favorite times of year.
While the childlike wonder was hard to recapture as an adult, coming home to cookies and hearing Christmas music playing softly was enough for him. He hummed appreciatively when he recognized the music as the Rat Pack singing classic carols. It was a welcome relief after being assailed with overdone pop renditions everywhere he went. A quiet evening with his wife, just the two of them and a blanket on the couch, sipping cider, filled him with a warmth and happiness that made him smile even wider. It was perfect.
After dropping his briefcase on the floor and putting up his coat, he walked the few steps into the living room and stopped cold.
"Neal?!"
The normally well-dressed and -coiffed con man was sitting hunched over at his kitchen table, the sleeves of his casual sweater pushed up and, if Peter wasn't mistaken, a wisp of white in his tousled hair. Neal's head turned around and he grinned. "Hey Peter!"
Peter stalked towards the dining room, his fleeting happiness fading as the frown stretched across his face. "What are you doing here? I thought you were sick."
"Sick of mortgage fraud," his wayward CI replied and bent his head back down over whatever had captured his attention.
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Neal, you can't just skip out on work when you feel like it."
El came out of the kitchen at that moment and wiped her hands on a towel. "Oh, stop, Peter. Everyone does - it's called taking a mental health day." She sidled up to him carefully, making sure not to touch him - there was flour all over the apron she was wearing - and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Hey, hon."
"Hey, hon," he greeted her with a tired voice. All thoughts of a relaxing evening vanished, and he wondered what he'd have to do to get Neal out of his house tonight. "So, Neal, do I want to know what you've been up to all day, with my wife, might I add?"
"Baking cookies."
Peter blinked. He glanced at El, who just smiled back at him. "You know how June hired me to plan the reception for the Children's Hospital Benefit that she chairs?" Peter nodded absently, but honestly couldn't remember this particular event out of the many she had scheduled for the holiday season. "Well, The Greatest Cake is actually providing Christmas cookies for it, and when Neal and I were talking the other day, he remarked that it was sad that the kids didn't get to enjoy any of it. So we decided we should bake some ourselves to bring to them."
He... they... cookies. Peter shook his head. "You played hooky to... bake?" That was a new one. "Why couldn't The Greatest Cake just bake some more for the kids?" He didn't even want to ask how involved Neal was with his latest business acquisition. He would really rather not know.
"Oh, hon, they're swamped as it is. It's the holidays, after all. Besides, Neal came up with a great theme, and it required… well, a personal touch," El explained, still smiling.
"A theme?" he echoed. Of course. It wouldn't be a Neal Caffrey project if there wasn't something difficult about it.
Neal fully turned around in his seat, looking up at him. It was then that Peter realized it was flour in Neal's hair. He wondered if he could take a picture, just so he could tease him later. "Elizabeth and I were talking about our favorite cookies, and I asked her if she'd ever had Basler Brunsli."
"Bas-what?"
"It's a Swiss chocolate almond spice cookie. I then realized there were probably a lot of foods these kids have never tried. Most of them have probably never had the opportunity to travel, or ever will. So we decided we'd bring a bit of the world to them - Christmas cookies from around the world."
Okay, that, Peter had to admit, was a nice idea. He softened just a little and gave Neal a small nod. Elizabeth squeezed his hand and gave him a knowing look. It was a slippery slope giving Neal any kind of leeway, but he could accept it just this once.
"So will I recognize any of these fancy cookies of yours?" he asked, walking over to the kitchen table.
Expecting strange or exotic cookies, instead he found a baking sheet full of gingerbread cutouts in front of Neal - meticulously decorated in tiny sprinkles. In particular, there was a line of Nutcracker soldiers perfectly outfitted in all of their colorful regalia.
"Seriously? How are you even-" Peter stopped and shook his head. Did it even matter?
Neal grinned and held up his tool of choice. "Tweezers."
Peter rolled his eyes. Only Neal would go that far just for cookies. And it looked like he'd been at it for quite a while. There were cooling racks stacked high, full of both sugar and gingerbread cookies, all beautifully decorated, although thankfully most not as detailed as the Nutcrackers. The elves and Santas were particularly colorful, but Rudolph was the most minimalist, with only antlers and a red nose. The snowflakes were simply gorgeous - blue and white with tiny silver balls.
"I thought you were making cookies from around the world," he replied, dryly, not even bothering to point out the ridiculousness of Neal's current endeavors. Nothing would dissuade him. Neal was an artist at his core, and he gave all his effort to (most) everything.
"Oh, we are, but we thought for the less-adventurous types, they might like something familiar," El explained with a teasing smile, and Peter rolled his eyes.
She walked toward the end of the table, and pointed to one rack. "There's Polish Chrusciki, leckerli - which Neal and I are in a debate whether they’re French or Swiss - Czech vanilkove rohlicky or vanilla crescents, and Italian Baci di Dama. We also have German Pfeffernusse, French Madeleines and Anisbedele, Belgian Gaulettes, and Greek Melomakarona. We're still working though, and coming up next are alfajores that are popular in Spain and South America, Danish Pepper Nuts, and the Basler Brunsli.”
Peter would be the first to admit he didn’t have an adventurous palate, but the cookies looked good. However, one of his favorites caught his eye and he picked up a chocolate crinkle cookie topped with powdered sugar. Neal held up a hand as if to stop him, but he paid him no mind. If they were baking in his house, he could very well have one of them.
He bit into it, the chocolate crumbling in his mouth, and immediately he scrunched up his eyes in disgust. A napkin was thrust in front of him, and he grabbed it gratefully, spitting it out. Glancing up, Peter eyed his wife and partner suspiciously. Neal was laughing, while El at least looked sympathetic, but on the verge of laughter too.
“What was that?”
El handed him a glass of water. “Mozzie baked some dairy and gluten free cookies. He didn’t want any kids to feel left out.”
Peter gulped the water down. He shook his head. “I think those kids would be better off without his good intentions. Mozzie should stick to-” he stopped.
“His day job?” Neal finished for him, grinning.
He shot Neal a look. “No, but perhaps leave the baking to the professionals, or at least use a recipe.”
“Oh, he did!” El replied cheerfully. Neal coughed and she shrugged. “Okay, well, he based it off another recipe. He found one for avocado brownies.”
“Avocado?!” Peter was afraid to ask.
“Instead of butter,” she said simply, and calmly took the balled up napkin from him and left the room.
Peter sighed. He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.
“Here, try this one. You’ll like it.” Neal picked up a delicate sandwich cookie, with a red filling showing through a small circular cutout. “It’s a Linzer cookie - raspberry filling though, instead of the traditional Austrian black currant. We figured that would go over better with the kids.”
He accepted the cookie and took a small bite, making an appreciative sound as the sweet almond cookie melted in his mouth. It was heavenly compared to the one he’d just had. “That’s good.”
“Thanks. So what was your favorite growing up? And please don’t say sugar cookies. It doesn’t matter if they’re decorated, there’s so much more to enjoy than a simple sugar cookie.”
Peter pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Well, I’m sure it’s simple to you, but I loved my mom’s checkerboard cookies. I would eat the vanilla squares first, leaving the chocolate for last.”
Neal nodded. “Simple, but good. We almost made them, but had to draw the line somewhere.”
“How many have you made?”
“Fifteen so far, not including Mozzie’s.”
Peter grimaced. “Better not to.”
Neal chuckled. “Yeah, we won’t be subjecting the kids to his baking.”
Leaning back in his chair, Peter crossed his arms and relaxed. “I didn’t think Mozzie celebrated Christmas.”
“He doesn’t, but this is for the kids," he explained, with a small shrug. "I know he always sends money back to Jeffries to make sure the kids have something to open on Christmas. It’s his soft spot.”
Nodding, Peter smiled. “So what was your favorite as a kid?”
Waving his hand over the gingerbread cookies, Neal replied, “We didn’t have many, but every year we made gingerbread. I got to pick out what cookie cutters to use, and then decorate them. It was mostly basic sprinkles and sugar, though, nothing like this. My mom never had the patience, and would just shake red and green sugar over most of them.”
“Ahhh… so that explains the painstaking detail you’re going to now.”
“Hey, anyone can sprinkle sugar,” Neal retorted. “I want to give these kids something special. Something they’ll remember.”
“Oh, I think they’ll remember this.” Peter leaned forward and pointed at the decorations. “Now move those sprinkle things over. I may not be Picasso, but I think I can at least decorate the gingerbread boys and girls.”
“Nonpareils, Peter, they’re called nonpareils.”
“Whatever, it’s all sugar.”
Neal sighed. “At least let me get you some tweezers.”
“Seriously? I think I can handle decorating a cookie without using my wife’s hygiene accoutrements.”
“Go wash your hands first, and then show me that you can pick up a single ball from that bowl.”
Peter grumbled but got up and washed his hands in the kitchen. El was busy mixing up more cookie dough and gave him a bright smile. When he sat back down, he carefully tried to pick up a small flat red disc to use as a button. Quickly he realized what Neal meant, as he fumbled with the small sugar nonpar-things.
Sheepishly he looked up and Neal held out tweezers.
“Be gentle, they snap easily.”
Peter shook his head, and resigned himself to a night of tedium. It was for a good cause, he reminded himself. And hopefully he could save some for himself.
The back door opened just then, and Mozzie walked in, arms laden with grocery bags. “Oh good, Suit, you’re here. Excellent timing. You can help crack nuts for my rugelach while I shape the dough.”
He swallowed his comment about fruit and nuts, and sighed once more. Most wonderful time of the year, indeed.