[backdated to early Christmas morning]

[npcyoface]

December 25th, very, very early morning. Just after midnight. All isn't quiet in Chicago, but then, when is it ever? There's people spilling out of bars and clubs, celebrating the coming of the day with a little too much alcohol and quite enough joy for the entire city. There are couples in Grant Park, taking a stroll to enjoy the freshly-

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[hey_capn_jack]

Jack, upon coming to in a rather stunning slimming number (in silver) beneath a Christmas tree, is immediately confronted with a number of questions. They are, in rough order:

1) I don't remember getting attacked. Why was I blacked out, and why am I tied up?

2) Why am I surrounded by presents?

3) ...did I totally miss a predilection for this flavor of pranks in Ianto's psych profile?

4) ...oh, cepheid Christ. It was November two days ago. Is it Christmas?

If you're curious, What am I wearing? comes roughly around question 32.

In any case, it's time for him to start in on freeing himself from his ribbony bondage, which is more difficult than one might think. Not that he doesn't have plenty of experience getting himself out of various knots and restraints, but apparently Santa went for the special anti-Houdini ribbons, or something.

...he might appreciate a bit of help here, guys.

[trappedbyhate]

Mio is heading downstairs to get breakfast sometime around ass o'clock in the morning. The reason for this is not because today is Christmas and she's excited to open presents--she just normally gets up at unholy hours of the morning. Hey, if she wants any time to herself or to do proper meditation, she has to sneak it in before most sane people are awake. She's already opened the card that says to go up to the roof, but Mio figures whatever it is can wait until she gets food and tea in her first

[hey_capn_jack]

"Well, I want to ask," Jack says, around a mouthful of knotted ribbon. "I mean, I really want to ask. Though I suppose your mileage may vary. Happen to have a knife on you?"

He spits a spring of ribbon out.

"Last I remember, I was feeding my damn kitten. Then, suddenly, I'm a Christmas present. To..."

He cranes his neck, trying to read the tag attached to him. After a moment and some odd gymnastics to get it to turn over, he finally manages it.

"...myself, apparently." He looks back up at Mio. "So I'm guessing perceptostatic, which I'm tempted to take some offense to. I mean, the Rift could at least come up with a new trick. This one is a little bit old. Though the dress is a nice touch; I will give it that."

[trappedbyhate]

Mio raises an eyebrow. "And what makes you think I'm in the mood to free you?"

Interpret that how you will, Jack.

oh boy this is a novella

[allivegotleft]

McCoy wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn Christmas morning. He rolls over onto his back with a groan. Today will likely be uneventful. He'd give himself the day off from work - sitting around in his office waiting for someone hurt or sick to show up - but then he'd really have nothing whatsoever to do today.

Unless, of course, Jim has something planned.

McCoy lets out a growl when his feet hit something that makes a crinkling sound suspiciously similar to that of wrapping paper - and yep, there's a present at the foot of his bed. Jim's an asshole. Of course he'd get McCoy something without warning, expecting noting in return(regardless of the fact that McCoy does have a present for Jim tucked away in his closet

lol this is too. OH WELL.

[ocptmycpt]

Jim wakes up about a half an hour later, sprawled rather impressively across his bed. His wings are fully opened--one dragging along the floor and the other taking up one half of the bed. There's a furry warmth settled between them, at the junction of his should blades--Simba. He rolls his shoulders lightly and the kitten moves, sending him an annoyed look the entire time before stalking primly over to his food bowl. Jim just snorts and goes to his closet

we are not predictable at all.

[allivegotleft]

McCoy is waiting at their corner table - the tinsel brushed away from his seat on the booth, thank you very much - with some coffee (black) and some pancakes (butter and syrup), plain and simple.

When Jim sits down, McCoy takes a moment to stare at that sweater, looking very much like it's personally offended him, or perhaps his mother. He then shifts his gaze to Jim's plate, raising an eyebrow at the ridiculous amount of sugar. concentrated in the meal. But he'll save the bitching for later. That's McCoy's version of Christmas spirit for you.

"Merry Christmas," he says instead, much more subdued than Jim.

He watches Jim flounder the way he had earlier, shrugging at the question.

"I woke up and found a present at the end of my bed. Thought it must've been from you, but..." He shrugs again.

not at ll, not at all.

[ocptmycpt]

Jim notices the disgusted look and smirks. "Something wrong?" he inquires innocently, fiddling with the sleeve of his obnoxious sweater pointedly. He also takes a huge bite of his terribly unhealthy waffles, grinning the whole time and licking some extra whip cream from his fork. Because he's a bastard

[singsing_a_song]

Meggie, of course, had a great deal of trouble falling asleep the night of Christmas Eve. Martha had gone to help her sick friends, leaving Meggie to be babysat for however long it took her to get back. It wasn't the same, trying to go to sleep without Martha to do the usual tucking-in procedures, but it was also Christmas Eve, and that meant Santa was coming, and that meant Meggie was way to excited to just fall asleep. But finally, finally, she did.

When she wakes up bright and ridiculously early, Martha isn't in her bed. But Meggie is quickly distracted from her curiosity by the bike in the middle of the room. It's pink and white, with streamers on the handles. It's the prettiest thing Meggie's ever seen, just about. She's never had a bicycle before and doesn't know how to ride, but there are training wheels, and white elbow and knee pads and a pink helmet on the table nearby, and she wants to ride it nowAnd this is how Meggie winds up riding her bicycle through the main floor of the Kashtta at seven in the morning on Christmas

[tempered_scars]

Wes was also with Martha, away from the Kashtta for some of the evening. Aside from the fact he is her guardian and used to being wherever she is, he had to make sure David pulled through from the Rift-induced malady.

Relieved and now certain that he did, he returns to the Kashtta sometime in the morning. He will no doubt stumble upon Meggie and her brand new bicycle.

A grin spreads across his face as he kneels down, watching her ride around the main floor. "Now that's a sweet ride."

Santa gave him a motorcycle. He'd know these things, Meggie.

[singsing_a_song]

Meggie looks over her shoulder at the sound of his voice, bike wobbling on its training wheels for a moment.

"Wes!" she just about shrieks, turning around and pulling the bike to an abrupt halt right in front of him. She hops off and promptly tacklehugs Wes, not that the force of it will affect him much.

"Merry Christmas!"

[tempered_scars]

Wes cracks a grin and it quickly turns into a laugh. The tacklehug is barely a poke to him, it's true. He returns it, lifting her high up in the air and keeping her there.

"Merry Christmas, munchkin! I see you already got Santa's gift, huh?"

He walks them over to the bike and whistles his approval.

"And you ain't even seen the rest of your presents yet."

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe was not sure what to expect once she read the small card signed from Santa himself. It isn't that she disbelieved it truly was from Santa. She's lived in Chicago practically her whole life. The Rift does these things. She knows he's real!

However, she had no idea what would be waiting for her outside.

The keys would have been enough to deduce, yes, but she still found it hard to imagine it would be possible.

Slowly, she inches toward the window. Sure enough, the car is right there. For her. She races down the stairs and out the lobby, towards the outside of the Tower where the car is parked. It's so shiny and OH MY GOD, IT'S HERS. She starts jumping up and down in place, squealing.

It's possible she has woken up some of the Kashtta residents with all the noise coming from outside. Apologies!

was gonna tag the other'un but CAR ;x

[xandtheman3]

Xander was ecstatic over his own gift from Santa. Hey, he missed having those comics even if he's read them enough times to almost have them completely memorized.

He had not been planning on heading outside, but he'd passed through the lobby on the way to somewhere. Possibly to track Phoebe down and figure out what Santa gave to her when he hears the squealing from outside and follows the noise.

"Holy bright pink cars, Pheebs," Xander says with a whistle, staring at it and then grinning at her. Her reaction alone would make it worth it for Santa to have given this to her instead of someone else. No one else would react quite this amazingly. "Did Santa bring you this? I kind of want a refund."

Disclaimer: he does not actually want a refund, but damn, that is one nice car.

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe has never had a car to call her own. Never! The closest she ever got was her older brother Jesse teacher her in his beat-up truck five years ago. Now, not only does she have her own car, but it's a Lamborghini, and it's pink.

Clearly, she was the most well-behaved girl in all of the land! Only not really.

She is still staring at it in a besotted manner when Xander joins her.

"Isn't it the shiniest?" she asks, hand tentatively resting on the hood. "I think I'm in love."

[xandtheman3]

Xander thinks that she is the most well-behaved girl in all of the land... or possibly the most deserving. At any rate, he approves that Santa gave her such a shiny, pretty car for Christmas.

"It is the most shiny car that I've ever seen, and I had a pretty shiny car myself before I fell through," he says. There was no penis metaphor either, despite what Buffy may have said. "If you weren't in love, I'd be surprised. I think it may be your soul mate."

He pauses and then turns to her with a grin. "Merry Christmas, Pheebs," he says, and he turns away from the car to her to give her a Xander-shaped hug.

[lefttogive]

John was quiet for most of Christmas. It would be difficult to keep his spirits too high in contrast to how he spent it last year. It's precisely the way he spent it last year that makes him all the more grateful he's back in Chicago, with his brother, far away from what happened.

It all seems like a distant dream, when he thinks about it. A nightmare.

Other times it's too close to reality for comfort.

When he climbs down the stairs, knuckles rubbing over his sleepy eyes, the last thing he expects to see is a black piano at the far end of the room, a big red bow on top. Upon further and closer inspection, he finds it's not a new piano. It's a very old one, but it works perfectly.

John sits down at the piano bench, marveling at it, and when he looks down at the wooden bench in question, he finds his mother's name carved into it. The breath is knocked out of him in one whoosh, and he can't tear his gaze away from the name. "I'll be damned."

[arrowinmyheel]

Sonny walks out of his office shortly after John comes downstairs. His bedroom is attached to his office so it's not like he was in there working all night or anything. It was a really good Christmas Eve. John is back.

John is back. There was no hiding from his family but embracing the fact that they're all alive and together. In Chicago, that's saying a whole fucking lot.

He stops when he sees John at that piano bench. It's familiar, and the sight of it hits him hard. He doesn't have to see the name to know whose piano it is, but it can't be... It's impossible, isn't it?

Sonny walks up to the piano, hesitating in front of it. "Jesus," he says, and he rests his hand on the wood. The memories that he has from his childhood are vague, hard to piece together, because he's old now, years and years from it, but he'd know this piano.

For the first time in a long time, he feels a sharp pang of missing her. "Where the hell'd this thing come from? This looks exactly like... mom's."

[lefttogive]

It was a really, really good Christmas Eve.

Nothing will win out over the fact he can finally be here in Chicago, with his brother. In their bar. Receiving something that was once their mother's is just as good.

"It... is mom's," John says, clearing his throat. He hands Sonny the letter from... Santa himself, his fingers running over the ivory keys. He pushes back the familiar ache that threatens to swell over his chest. "I don't know. I just woke up and it was here with a big red bow."

Which sounds unbelievable, but it's Chicago. "She used to love playing this thing. I can't... remember the name of the song she played most, but it's... in my head."

And he starts to play it. Faintly and unsure at first.

[arrowinmyheel]

It is mom's.

You live long enough in Chicago, and you start to believe that anything is possible. You also start getting used to the impossible things happening all being bad.

This is something that Sonny never would have expected, not in a million years, but it's true. It's hers. He remembers it. When his hand rests against the side of it, he remembers what that feels like too.

"Jesus," Sonny mutters again, sitting beside him on the piano bench and listening to the song. Because it's the same piano, it even sounds the same. "Jesus fuck. Santa gave you mom's piano." He takes in a sharp breath that's more unsteady than he'd like to admit. "Only in Chicago."

He listens to the song. "That's what she used to play, yeah. I don't remember the name of it either," Sonny admits with a frown. "But it sounds like her."