So I'm going to be silly and post fanfic here.
A Very MSPA Christmas
Christmas for the band always started the same way. The Courtyard Droll woke everyone slightly after the crack of dawn (really, he woke slightly before but fidgeted and bounced in bed til he could no longer contain himself), tearing around their apartment suite and screaming, "GUYS, GUYS, WAKE UP, SANTA'S COME!" And he always had, every year. The older three got gifts from the gang, but there was always a small heap of presents for CD, all tagged with curlique handwriting reading "Santa Claus." No one had the heart to tell him that it was the Draconian Dignitary, every year, buying things in secret, wrapping them in cheery paper, and setting them up after everyone else had gone to bed. He even choked down CD's truly awful cookies, made with love.
So, yawning and rubbing eyes, they would troop into the living room and gather around the tree. That tree always stood for so much happiness in their lives. The somber mood of most of the rest of the war-torn and uncertain year dissolved into a warm glow as they decorated it, accompanied by Jack playing Christmas tunes on the piano, covering it in glass spades and diamonds and clubs and hearts, and more tinsel than most of them could believe. The one who could believe it jumped around throwing it at the tree, too short to reach the topmost branches and getting more of it draped all over himself than on the tree. Eventually he would ask the Hegemonic Brute to help him, and Jack and DD would watch with amusement as the giant swung CD onto his shoulder to reach the very top.
After the presents were unwrapped (CD delivering his offerings to everyone else and waiting til they had opened them, grinning and bobbing up and down on his heels a little in excitement), Jack invariably made some excuse about delivering paperwork to their Queen, and HB put on a secret, approving smile. He'd seen the two exchange a stolen kiss in a hall alcove once, late enough at night that they were sure they were alone, and with the stacks of papers always went a small gift from a man to his love.
While he was gone, the other three cooked. HB and DD did most of the difficult things with CD hovering around, asking to measure ingredients and mix bowls. They let him make one dish all by himself every year, something simple to do. It was usually the mashed potatoes, and he was much better with them than he was with Santa’s cookies. Jack usually returned in time to help finish things up, persevering though cooking was far from his favorite activity, and the four of them sat down to a huge dinner that somehow tasted better than anything else they had all year.
Later on, after they had all gorged themselves silly on HB's cookies--he was a much better baker than CD--the Midnight Crew (as they called their jazz band) went out into the evening carolling, festive scarves around their necks and holly festooning their hats. CD always went a bit overboard, making everyone else wince affectionately--he put an entire wreath on his. It was good publicity for the band, but more than that, it was CD's favorite part of the day, and he always urged them on, "Please? One house more?", pulling on DD's well-tailored sleeve with a pleading smile. And they always gave in, playing at the houses of half of Derse. At the end of the night, DD would have to carry the sleeping CD home and tuck him into bed with whatever soft stuffed thing had been CD's favorite gift that year.
Later, the three older members would sit around the fire with glasses of rum and eggnog and talk, as they were able to do increasingly rarely these days. As the time came closer when the prince and princess on the moon above them would wake up, they got steadily more and more busy, and the populace got more and more anxious. The future was uncertain. But for the moment, they had good friends and all the boozy eggnog they could drink.
And that was good enough.
Christmas for the band always started the same way. The Courtyard Droll woke everyone slightly after the crack of dawn (really, he woke slightly before but fidgeted and bounced in bed til he could no longer contain himself), tearing around their apartment suite and screaming, "GUYS, GUYS, WAKE UP, SANTA'S COME!" And he always had, every year. The older three got gifts from the gang, but there was always a small heap of presents for CD, all tagged with curlique handwriting reading "Santa Claus." No one had the heart to tell him that it was the Draconian Dignitary, every year, buying things in secret, wrapping them in cheery paper, and setting them up after everyone else had gone to bed. He even choked down CD's truly awful cookies, made with love.
So, yawning and rubbing eyes, they would troop into the living room and gather around the tree. That tree always stood for so much happiness in their lives. The somber mood of most of the rest of the war-torn and uncertain year dissolved into a warm glow as they decorated it, accompanied by Jack playing Christmas tunes on the piano, covering it in glass spades and diamonds and clubs and hearts, and more tinsel than most of them could believe. The one who could believe it jumped around throwing it at the tree, too short to reach the topmost branches and getting more of it draped all over himself than on the tree. Eventually he would ask the Hegemonic Brute to help him, and Jack and DD would watch with amusement as the giant swung CD onto his shoulder to reach the very top.
After the presents were unwrapped (CD delivering his offerings to everyone else and waiting til they had opened them, grinning and bobbing up and down on his heels a little in excitement), Jack invariably made some excuse about delivering paperwork to their Queen, and HB put on a secret, approving smile. He'd seen the two exchange a stolen kiss in a hall alcove once, late enough at night that they were sure they were alone, and with the stacks of papers always went a small gift from a man to his love.
While he was gone, the other three cooked. HB and DD did most of the difficult things with CD hovering around, asking to measure ingredients and mix bowls. They let him make one dish all by himself every year, something simple to do. It was usually the mashed potatoes, and he was much better with them than he was with Santa’s cookies. Jack usually returned in time to help finish things up, persevering though cooking was far from his favorite activity, and the four of them sat down to a huge dinner that somehow tasted better than anything else they had all year.
Later on, after they had all gorged themselves silly on HB's cookies--he was a much better baker than CD--the Midnight Crew (as they called their jazz band) went out into the evening carolling, festive scarves around their necks and holly festooning their hats. CD always went a bit overboard, making everyone else wince affectionately--he put an entire wreath on his. It was good publicity for the band, but more than that, it was CD's favorite part of the day, and he always urged them on, "Please? One house more?", pulling on DD's well-tailored sleeve with a pleading smile. And they always gave in, playing at the houses of half of Derse. At the end of the night, DD would have to carry the sleeping CD home and tuck him into bed with whatever soft stuffed thing had been CD's favorite gift that year.
Later, the three older members would sit around the fire with glasses of rum and eggnog and talk, as they were able to do increasingly rarely these days. As the time came closer when the prince and princess on the moon above them would wake up, they got steadily more and more busy, and the populace got more and more anxious. The future was uncertain. But for the moment, they had good friends and all the boozy eggnog they could drink.
And that was good enough.