The O.C. Fic: Simple Gifts (Missing Scene Fic Challenge 2004)
T'was The Night Before Chrismukkah. Now this one was written quite late. I ate so many pear drops my throat froze up and I didn't get to bed until three am. I tried to write something slightly different in tone from Brief Encounter and I hope I've succeeded.
Disclaimer: The O.C. is property of Fox.
Author's Note: A The Best Chrismmukah Ever story, also written for the OCMSC.
I know, I know I'm an over-achiever. Or else an incredible geek. Probably the latter.
Dedication: For D, who knows all this and doesn't mind. Is that enough of a clue for you?
~~~
"The time will come when you'll be sad
And reckon this for fortune bad,
T'have lost the goods ye might have had."
The Wassail, Robert Harrick
~~~
Kirsten put the kettle on the stove and moved to the cupboard where she kept her own prodigious hoard of tea. Beer, she enjoyed, wine she deeply appreciated, but tea was where she came into her own. There something about the ritual of making a cup of tea; making a pot of Assam or Darjeeling to share with friends, enjoying a peppermint or a green leaf as a perfect pick me up after a work out and any fruit or herbal tea was the ideal tonic to a stressful day at work. For making an early morning more bearable, or as antidote to a cold or rainy day, the worlds' finest had coffee had nothing on a mug of English Breakfast. Or, as today, for tackling end of year accounts. Normally, they were oddly soothing, a task that made sense, had a nice finite quality to it. But today, when there was Chrismukkah to organize and a poolhouse raiding to be done to ascertain Ryan's shoe size and anything else he might need but wouldn’t ask for, she was simply not in the mood. Dull, dull, dull. This definitely called for the big guns. Pulling out a bag of English Breakfast and her favorite chunky blue mug, ideal for clutching in thought, she set them down on the counter before moving to the fridge to retrieve the milk.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, Kirsten was itching on the inside. On top of her father opening an extra can of infuriating asshole just for the holidays, Ryan was acting extra twitchy again. They'd long ago got used to the fact that Ryan didn’t talk about life before Newport and if she was perfectly honest with herself, most of the time that suited Kirsten just fine. But sometimes there was just no getting away from it; when it came to self-confidence and social grace Ryan was still pretty much a wreck, a Mercedes propped up on bricks. Kirsten couldn’t help but feel that despite their best intentions and Seth's unstoppable cheerfulness, Chrismukkah might still be a bridge too far. Just as she thought it might be time to break out the Christmas cookies, the doorbell rang, cutting sharply through Kirsten's musings.
Letting out a heavy sigh, she made her way to the front door, plastering a smile on her face in the expectation of being confronted with an over-zealously spirited Julie Cooper with another party planning crisis. Instead, she opened the door to find a Fed-Ex guy to waiting on her doorstep carrying a large parcel.
"Oh! Hi," she said, pleasantly surprised.
"Kirsten Cohen?"
"That's me," her eyes widening in anticipation at the size of the parcel.
After signing for it, she made her way back to the kitchen just as the kettle began to whistle. Setting the parcel down on the table in order to tend to her tea, Kirsten's mind danced with exciting possibilities. The most likely scenario was Sandy tapping into his romantic side again; something that happened quite frequently around the holidays, particularly if he was working. But flowers were more his style. Then there was Hailey; who, though less than one hundred percent reliable with the timing, always remembered to send at least a gift for Seth. Although she did send original and unusual gifts, as they usually traveled from half way around the world they had a tendency to be fairly light. Whatever was contained within the parcel had been fairly heavy, and had shifted inside the box as she had carried it inside. Kirsten's heart sank; it was probably files from the office, a little token of appreciation from her Dad.
"All of the Whos in Whoville liked Chrismukkah a lot, Except for my dickhead father, who did not," grumbled Kirsten as she added milk and sugar to her tea.
Returning the milk to the fridge, she took a pair of scissors from the drawer and headed over to the parcel. She sighed heavily as she pulled it towards her. Sooner or later she knew that she and her father were going to have a serious falling out.
Pulling it towards her, she took the scissors and ran them down the edge of the box, before clunking them on to the table with a grunt. Opening it up, she was met with the sight of a beautiful knitted scarf of multi-colored wool of pinks and lavender. She reached into the box and stroked the soft material between her fingers.
"Hailey, you big softy," she said, feeling guilty for having written her sister off so quickly.
Taking it in her hands, Kirsten was surprised as a card fell out, landing in the box where two further presents, these ones wrapped rested below. Retrieving the card, she opened it, not quite prepared for what was written inside.
Kirsten,
I wanted to give you something to say thank you for looking after Ryan for me, but what do you get the person who has everything? One of the girls at the coffee shop makes these for extra cash in the holidays, I thought you might like it. Please give these presents to Ryan from his brother and me, and tell him I'm thinking of him. Or not. He's not too big on holidays, so you judge it.
Dawn Atwood
P.S. Don't let him drink nog; he loves it, but nutmeg sends him as high as a kite.
Kirsten stared at the card for the longest time, re-reading it twice before she actually took it in. She didn’t know what was more surprising about the package; the fact that Dawn had sent something at all, or the fact that Ryan was apparently capable of giddiness. The very idea of him in hyperactive mode was enough to make her want to start lacing the Captain Crunch.
Finally, she laid the scarf on the table and took the two gifts out of the box. The large blue rectangular one tied with a gold bow was the heavy and Kirsten had to take care not to drop it. A glance at the card told her it was from Trey. What on earth was it? Given that it was wrapped in a gift box, it would be so easy to… no, no, no. Unwrapping and re-wrapping Ryan's Christmas presents to satisfy her own, though admittedly colossal curiosity, would definitely not be the way to build trust at what he clearly found to be a very difficult time of year. She regarded Dawn's present with suspicion. Wrapped in green paper and tied with a red bow, it was small and squishy at the edges. Kirsten suddenly had a sinking feeling it was a matching scarf. The very idea that Dawn might have got him the same thing as her made Kirsten's stomach lurch and as much as she hated to think badly of Ryan's mother, sometimes she just couldn’t help it. Resolved not to make anything worse for him, Kirsten made a decision. Leaving the gifts at the end of the table, she placed the card and the scarf back in the box and went to her bedroom, where she hid it in her wardrobe, dropping a sweater casually on top as an afterthought in an attempt to discourage prying eyes.
Returning to the kitchen, she regarded the presents again. They were beautifully wrapped and were certainly intriguing. And if it did turn out that Dawn had been thoughtless enough not to bother thinking of an individual gift for Ryan, he need never be any the wiser, he’d just assume he'd been given a scarf. If he seemed disappointed, there was always nog and a nutmeg induced spell of excitement to add zest to the proceedings. But if, as Kirsten fervently hoped she would, turned out to prove her wrong, then perhaps maybe, just maybe, this Chrismukkah would be merry after all.
~~~
And after the presents had been opened and the turkey had been eaten, The Muppet's Christmas Carol watched, the crackers pulled and after Ryan had been allowed to finally permitted by Seth to remove the daft hat that had been concealed within, after all of these, he thanked the Cohens as best as he could and went out to the poolhouse.
Sitting down on his bed in the dark, Ryan slumped backwards and lay staring at the ceiling. Today had been odd. Slightly awkward, thought-provoking, heartwarming, fun and even depressing all at the same time. He'd pretty much run through every emotion he was capable since Seth had woken him up at ten that morning. The night before he'd had a horrible suspicion that Seth might be a six a.m. Tigger, but it had turned out that one of the Cohens' many Chrismukkah traditions involved determinedly sleeping in. Now that was one custom he could definitely respect. There had been many more, some of which he'd liked, like watching Kermit and friends and the eating of all candy within a ten mile radius, as well as others he'd liked less, including the compulsory wearing of multi colored paper hats and the game of charades. The Cohens' had loved the gifts he'd given them, and to Ryan's relief hadn’t gone overboard on reciprocating. All things considered, today had been awesome.
Which is why Ryan was kicking himself for allowing the traditional Atwood guilt to invade his thoughts. As great as today had been, there was no doubt in his mind that the remainder of the clan weren't having it so good. Trey was spending his first Christmas in jail, and his father was hitting his tenth. His Mom, well he had no idea. Hopefully happy. Probably drunk. He hoped she wasn't back with A.J., but the truth was he Ryan knew how lonely she got around the holidays. It usually had a direct correlation with how thrashed he got.
Ryan mentally kicked himself; today had been amazing, he needed to focus on the positive. And besides, it wasn't like every holiday season had sucked beyond all reason. Two years ago, his Mom and his brother and his friends had pitched in to buy him a bike; without question the best present ever any of them had gotten him. The fact that he'd come off it after launching himself a rickety home-made ramp and broken his nose on the handlebars had been purely incidental.
Ryan sighed. Thinking about his family made it official; he could no longer put off opening his presents from home. He sat up and peeled off the bed, moving to the shelf and pulling out one of the baskets where he'd stashed the two gifts last week. Retrieving them, he turned round, nearly dropping them in fright as the specter of Seth loomed at him from outside, weirdly illuminated by the light from the pool. Tapping on the glass with one of the mugs he held in his hand, he looked questioningly at Ryan, seeking his permission to enter. After a moment's pause, Ryan nodded.
"It's open," he said, retreating to the bed and plonking himself down with the gifts.
"Dude, its still Chrismukkah. There is no moping in the dark on Chrismukkah," Seth said, after juggling the mugs and entering the poolhouse.
"Sorry," said Ryan, switching on the bedside light, "My eyes are still in protest from all the fairy lights."
"You wound me with your words."
"That's 'cause it's fun," teased Ryan, taking one the mug Seth offered him, "Thanks. This nog?"
"Not just any nog. It's the Nana's special nog, guaranteed to warm even the most jaded of hearts."
"I'm not jaded."
"You see, that's the magic of Chrismukkah," said Seth taking a sip of his drink, smiling as Ryan sniffed his suspiciously.
"This got nutmeg in it?"
"I think so. Officially, I don’t get told the ingredients until I have kids, but it's nog, how complicated can it be? Why? You're not allergic are you?"
"No, no reason," said Ryan drinking deeply. He smiled, "Good nog."
"Great nog."
"You just like saying nog."
"I do. It's like yogalates, it's hypnotic. Nog, I love it."
Ryan grinned at Seth, imagining what a handful he must have been at six years old. Seth nodded towards the presents resting in front of Ryan.
"So are you going to open them with your actual hands, or just wait until your mutation kicks in?"
"What?" asked Ryan, completely confused.
"X-Men, have I taught you noth- never mind. Are you going to open them?"
"I guess."
He looked at the two presents, trying to decide which one to brave first. Seth suddenly stood up.
"Sorry, I should probably just leave you to it," he said, clearly worried that he'd intruded as he backed towards the door, "I mean, you came out here for a reason, right, and I lumber in after you like an idiot. Which I am, I'm an idiot."
"Seth! Would you just calm down already?!" exclaimed Ryan, trying not to laugh at his friend's social bumbling, "It's fine. Just deciding which to open first."
"Oh. Cool," said Seth, obviously relieved as he sat back on the floor, "Well, just remember the first rule of Chrismukkah; always open the biggest present first."
"I thought the first rule was there should always be chocolate within arm's reach," Ryan said, reaching for the blue box from Trey and starting work on the bow.
"That's the second rule. Pay attention."
"Sorry," said Ryan, pulling off the lid and pulling back a layer of tissue paper beneath to reveal a simple but graceful pair of hand carved wooden bookends, a small R carved into one, a matching A carved into the other.
"Hey cool," said Seth admiringly, "Those from your brother?"
"Yeah," said Ryan, smiling in awe as he turned them over in his hands. Like Ryan, Trey had an arty side, but he usually kept it under wraps. But these, these, were something else; unfussy, elegant and beautifully done. His bike had just been kicked into second place.
"Can I?" asked Seth timidly, holding his hand out.
"Sure," replied Ryan, handing him one of the bookends and setting the other down reverently on the bed. Reaching into the box again, he peeled back a second layer of tissue to find a 500 piece Where's Waldo? jigsaw. Two for two; so far so good.
"Excellent," he said, scanning the picture briefly before holding it up for Seth to see, "I am so bad at this."
"Oh, it's a classic. And me too. I used to cheat and look it up on the Internet."
"Dude, that's just sad," Ryan said, laughing.
"Yeah, I know," sighed Seth, handing the bookend carefully back to Ryan, "So, so far so good, huh?"
"Looks that way," Ryan replied, placing the bookends back in the box and pulling his mother's gift towards him. He took a deep breath. After Trey's double hitter, Ryan didn’t really care if it didn’t match up and he didn’t expect it to. As long as it didn’t embarrass him, or make Seth feel awkward, he'd be happy.
Carefully, so as not to rip the paper, Ryan painstakingly peeled off the tape in the same manner that had Seth had found so unbearable earlier that day. Finally, he turned it over and taking a mental deep breath, open up the paper.
"Oh my God," he said, stunned by what he saw nestling in the paper before him.
"Good oh my God, or bad oh my God?" asked Seth nervously.
"Good, definitely," said Ryan unable to tear his gaze away from the collection of oddities that sat on his bed.
Starting at the bottom was a CD. He slid it out to show Seth; Disney Classics.
"It's oh so minty, " Seth said, his face lighting up, "Please tell me there's a story or I may just have to lose all respect for you."
"It was my favorite, I made Mom borrow it from the library for me all the time. She wouldn’t buy it so I eventually stole their copy."
"You rebel with a very tragic cause, you," teased Seth. Ryan smiled, ignoring him.
"My Dad had a fit, which was kind of ironic, since he'd held up a Seven-Eleven in the morning."
"All parents are hypocritical Ry, it's like a law," said Seth, trying not break into a song and dance routine in jubilation at Ryan's voluntary, not-too-depressing-sharing, "Just tell me your favorite wasn't from Snow White."
"Ugly Bug Ball, every time."
"Okay, that's vaguely acceptable," Seth conceded before asking, "So what else you got?"
Ryan held up a baseball glove and a yellowing ball with scrawled writing on it, "First glove; spent hours playing catch with Amy, the girl next door to me in Fresno. She had an arm like you wouldn’t believe."
"I know nothing about baseball, so I probably would. What about the ball?"
"I always wanted to go to a Dodgers game, but we couldn’t afford it so Trey said he'd get them to sign a ball for me." He tossed it at Seth.
"No way, the Dodgers signed this?!" Seth exclaimed excitedly, catching it neatly, "Okay, I know enough about baseball to know that that's seriously cool."
"And it would be if it were actually signed by them and not my brother and his friends."
"Okay, that's just too sad a story for Chrismukkah," said Seth, tossing the ball back.
"Are you kidding? I was thrilled, I thought it was real."
"I thought you were meant to be smart."
"Trey told me not to say anything the kids at school to anyone 'cause they'd all be wanting one too."
"That's kinda cute. Say, did you know they've taken gullible out of the dictionary?"
"Very funny," Ryan said dryly, before turning his attention to the last of his mother's gifts. It was wrapped carefully in red tissue paper. Picking it up, he had no idea what it might be. Carefully unfolding the layers, he reached the center, his mouth dropping open in amazement at what he found.
It was Purple Boo.
"Oh, wow," Ryan said softly under his breath. He didn’t even know his Mom had saved him, he thought he'd been lost in the big move South.
Small, oddly flat and more or less bear shaped. Mostly bald, with tufts of purple fur. Slightly squidgy, like he was stuffed with cotton wool. No discernible ears and eyes made out of small circles of black and white felt. A dirty white blob with another circle of black felt for a nose. A faded hand knitted turquoise scarf tied round his neck, beneath which was a slightly cleaner band of fur. Stolen from Trey and claimed as his own at the age of two, Purple Boo was Ryan's first and only stuffed animal. Inseparable whilst they were together, Ryan was inconsolable when they were parted.
"Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Seth said after an impressively restrained moment of tact.
"Purple Boo," said Ryan, as he held Boo in his hands, stroking his head unselfconsciously.
"Good name," said Seth sincerely.
"I thought I'd left him in Fresno," said Ryan, setting him down in the cradle of his old baseball glove and looking up at Seth for the first time, "Guess my mom adopted him."
"Captain Oats is adopted. Car boot sale in Berkeley."
Ryan smiled at Seth and gathered together the bits of wrapping paper that littered the bed and slid them on to the floor in a neat pile. Leaving the other gifts on the bed, Ryan picked up Boo and the jigsaw and moved to the table.
"You want to?" asked Ryan as he peeled off the packaging.
"Sure," said Seth, getting up off the floor, "I am the jigsaw king. But I need a beat. You want?"
"Yeah, go ahead," said Ryan.
As Ryan shook the pieces out into the box and mixing them up, Seth took the Disney CD from the bed and crossed to the stereo in the corner. Turning it over in his hands to look at the back, he noticed what Ryan in his happiness hadn’t; the small intact security clip discreetly stuck to the bottom of the CD case. Looking over at his friend, studying the picture on the jigsaw box for the elusive Waldo, Purple Boo in pride of place beside him, he knew it would break his heart if he found it too. Quickly and subtly, he grabbed Ryan’s keys from the counter and carefully used it to slip the tag free.
"You coming, or what?” asked Ryan, glancing over his shoulder just as Seth slipped the evidence into his pocket.
"Yeah, I’m coming," Seth replied, replacing Ryan’s keys and slipping the CD inside the stereo and moving to join his friend as the music kicked in.
"Once a lonely caterpillar sat and cried, to a sympathetic beetle by his side," they sang unselfconsciously together under their breath, as they sifted through the pieces searching for the corners before simultaneously turning up the volume, "I’ve got nobody to hug! I’m such an ug-u-ly bug!"
It didn’t escape Seth’s notice that Ryan was distinctly better than he was. Getting a sudden mental picture of Ryan in musicals, he found himself grinning his head off. After a few minutes contented singing along, Seth stopped and looked over at his friend.
"So, tell me honestly, Ryan," he asked, a little nervously, "Today, it's been a good day, right?"
Ryan smiled goofily back at him. He could feel the nutmeg starting to work its magic.
"Yeah, trust me," he said earnestly, "The Best Chrismmukah Ever."
~~~
Disclaimer: The O.C. is property of Fox.
Author's Note: A The Best Chrismmukah Ever story, also written for the OCMSC.
I know, I know I'm an over-achiever. Or else an incredible geek. Probably the latter.
Dedication: For D, who knows all this and doesn't mind. Is that enough of a clue for you?
~~~
"The time will come when you'll be sad
And reckon this for fortune bad,
T'have lost the goods ye might have had."
The Wassail, Robert Harrick
~~~
Kirsten put the kettle on the stove and moved to the cupboard where she kept her own prodigious hoard of tea. Beer, she enjoyed, wine she deeply appreciated, but tea was where she came into her own. There something about the ritual of making a cup of tea; making a pot of Assam or Darjeeling to share with friends, enjoying a peppermint or a green leaf as a perfect pick me up after a work out and any fruit or herbal tea was the ideal tonic to a stressful day at work. For making an early morning more bearable, or as antidote to a cold or rainy day, the worlds' finest had coffee had nothing on a mug of English Breakfast. Or, as today, for tackling end of year accounts. Normally, they were oddly soothing, a task that made sense, had a nice finite quality to it. But today, when there was Chrismukkah to organize and a poolhouse raiding to be done to ascertain Ryan's shoe size and anything else he might need but wouldn’t ask for, she was simply not in the mood. Dull, dull, dull. This definitely called for the big guns. Pulling out a bag of English Breakfast and her favorite chunky blue mug, ideal for clutching in thought, she set them down on the counter before moving to the fridge to retrieve the milk.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, Kirsten was itching on the inside. On top of her father opening an extra can of infuriating asshole just for the holidays, Ryan was acting extra twitchy again. They'd long ago got used to the fact that Ryan didn’t talk about life before Newport and if she was perfectly honest with herself, most of the time that suited Kirsten just fine. But sometimes there was just no getting away from it; when it came to self-confidence and social grace Ryan was still pretty much a wreck, a Mercedes propped up on bricks. Kirsten couldn’t help but feel that despite their best intentions and Seth's unstoppable cheerfulness, Chrismukkah might still be a bridge too far. Just as she thought it might be time to break out the Christmas cookies, the doorbell rang, cutting sharply through Kirsten's musings.
Letting out a heavy sigh, she made her way to the front door, plastering a smile on her face in the expectation of being confronted with an over-zealously spirited Julie Cooper with another party planning crisis. Instead, she opened the door to find a Fed-Ex guy to waiting on her doorstep carrying a large parcel.
"Oh! Hi," she said, pleasantly surprised.
"Kirsten Cohen?"
"That's me," her eyes widening in anticipation at the size of the parcel.
After signing for it, she made her way back to the kitchen just as the kettle began to whistle. Setting the parcel down on the table in order to tend to her tea, Kirsten's mind danced with exciting possibilities. The most likely scenario was Sandy tapping into his romantic side again; something that happened quite frequently around the holidays, particularly if he was working. But flowers were more his style. Then there was Hailey; who, though less than one hundred percent reliable with the timing, always remembered to send at least a gift for Seth. Although she did send original and unusual gifts, as they usually traveled from half way around the world they had a tendency to be fairly light. Whatever was contained within the parcel had been fairly heavy, and had shifted inside the box as she had carried it inside. Kirsten's heart sank; it was probably files from the office, a little token of appreciation from her Dad.
"All of the Whos in Whoville liked Chrismukkah a lot, Except for my dickhead father, who did not," grumbled Kirsten as she added milk and sugar to her tea.
Returning the milk to the fridge, she took a pair of scissors from the drawer and headed over to the parcel. She sighed heavily as she pulled it towards her. Sooner or later she knew that she and her father were going to have a serious falling out.
Pulling it towards her, she took the scissors and ran them down the edge of the box, before clunking them on to the table with a grunt. Opening it up, she was met with the sight of a beautiful knitted scarf of multi-colored wool of pinks and lavender. She reached into the box and stroked the soft material between her fingers.
"Hailey, you big softy," she said, feeling guilty for having written her sister off so quickly.
Taking it in her hands, Kirsten was surprised as a card fell out, landing in the box where two further presents, these ones wrapped rested below. Retrieving the card, she opened it, not quite prepared for what was written inside.
Kirsten,
I wanted to give you something to say thank you for looking after Ryan for me, but what do you get the person who has everything? One of the girls at the coffee shop makes these for extra cash in the holidays, I thought you might like it. Please give these presents to Ryan from his brother and me, and tell him I'm thinking of him. Or not. He's not too big on holidays, so you judge it.
Dawn Atwood
P.S. Don't let him drink nog; he loves it, but nutmeg sends him as high as a kite.
Kirsten stared at the card for the longest time, re-reading it twice before she actually took it in. She didn’t know what was more surprising about the package; the fact that Dawn had sent something at all, or the fact that Ryan was apparently capable of giddiness. The very idea of him in hyperactive mode was enough to make her want to start lacing the Captain Crunch.
Finally, she laid the scarf on the table and took the two gifts out of the box. The large blue rectangular one tied with a gold bow was the heavy and Kirsten had to take care not to drop it. A glance at the card told her it was from Trey. What on earth was it? Given that it was wrapped in a gift box, it would be so easy to… no, no, no. Unwrapping and re-wrapping Ryan's Christmas presents to satisfy her own, though admittedly colossal curiosity, would definitely not be the way to build trust at what he clearly found to be a very difficult time of year. She regarded Dawn's present with suspicion. Wrapped in green paper and tied with a red bow, it was small and squishy at the edges. Kirsten suddenly had a sinking feeling it was a matching scarf. The very idea that Dawn might have got him the same thing as her made Kirsten's stomach lurch and as much as she hated to think badly of Ryan's mother, sometimes she just couldn’t help it. Resolved not to make anything worse for him, Kirsten made a decision. Leaving the gifts at the end of the table, she placed the card and the scarf back in the box and went to her bedroom, where she hid it in her wardrobe, dropping a sweater casually on top as an afterthought in an attempt to discourage prying eyes.
Returning to the kitchen, she regarded the presents again. They were beautifully wrapped and were certainly intriguing. And if it did turn out that Dawn had been thoughtless enough not to bother thinking of an individual gift for Ryan, he need never be any the wiser, he’d just assume he'd been given a scarf. If he seemed disappointed, there was always nog and a nutmeg induced spell of excitement to add zest to the proceedings. But if, as Kirsten fervently hoped she would, turned out to prove her wrong, then perhaps maybe, just maybe, this Chrismukkah would be merry after all.
~~~
And after the presents had been opened and the turkey had been eaten, The Muppet's Christmas Carol watched, the crackers pulled and after Ryan had been allowed to finally permitted by Seth to remove the daft hat that had been concealed within, after all of these, he thanked the Cohens as best as he could and went out to the poolhouse.
Sitting down on his bed in the dark, Ryan slumped backwards and lay staring at the ceiling. Today had been odd. Slightly awkward, thought-provoking, heartwarming, fun and even depressing all at the same time. He'd pretty much run through every emotion he was capable since Seth had woken him up at ten that morning. The night before he'd had a horrible suspicion that Seth might be a six a.m. Tigger, but it had turned out that one of the Cohens' many Chrismukkah traditions involved determinedly sleeping in. Now that was one custom he could definitely respect. There had been many more, some of which he'd liked, like watching Kermit and friends and the eating of all candy within a ten mile radius, as well as others he'd liked less, including the compulsory wearing of multi colored paper hats and the game of charades. The Cohens' had loved the gifts he'd given them, and to Ryan's relief hadn’t gone overboard on reciprocating. All things considered, today had been awesome.
Which is why Ryan was kicking himself for allowing the traditional Atwood guilt to invade his thoughts. As great as today had been, there was no doubt in his mind that the remainder of the clan weren't having it so good. Trey was spending his first Christmas in jail, and his father was hitting his tenth. His Mom, well he had no idea. Hopefully happy. Probably drunk. He hoped she wasn't back with A.J., but the truth was he Ryan knew how lonely she got around the holidays. It usually had a direct correlation with how thrashed he got.
Ryan mentally kicked himself; today had been amazing, he needed to focus on the positive. And besides, it wasn't like every holiday season had sucked beyond all reason. Two years ago, his Mom and his brother and his friends had pitched in to buy him a bike; without question the best present ever any of them had gotten him. The fact that he'd come off it after launching himself a rickety home-made ramp and broken his nose on the handlebars had been purely incidental.
Ryan sighed. Thinking about his family made it official; he could no longer put off opening his presents from home. He sat up and peeled off the bed, moving to the shelf and pulling out one of the baskets where he'd stashed the two gifts last week. Retrieving them, he turned round, nearly dropping them in fright as the specter of Seth loomed at him from outside, weirdly illuminated by the light from the pool. Tapping on the glass with one of the mugs he held in his hand, he looked questioningly at Ryan, seeking his permission to enter. After a moment's pause, Ryan nodded.
"It's open," he said, retreating to the bed and plonking himself down with the gifts.
"Dude, its still Chrismukkah. There is no moping in the dark on Chrismukkah," Seth said, after juggling the mugs and entering the poolhouse.
"Sorry," said Ryan, switching on the bedside light, "My eyes are still in protest from all the fairy lights."
"You wound me with your words."
"That's 'cause it's fun," teased Ryan, taking one the mug Seth offered him, "Thanks. This nog?"
"Not just any nog. It's the Nana's special nog, guaranteed to warm even the most jaded of hearts."
"I'm not jaded."
"You see, that's the magic of Chrismukkah," said Seth taking a sip of his drink, smiling as Ryan sniffed his suspiciously.
"This got nutmeg in it?"
"I think so. Officially, I don’t get told the ingredients until I have kids, but it's nog, how complicated can it be? Why? You're not allergic are you?"
"No, no reason," said Ryan drinking deeply. He smiled, "Good nog."
"Great nog."
"You just like saying nog."
"I do. It's like yogalates, it's hypnotic. Nog, I love it."
Ryan grinned at Seth, imagining what a handful he must have been at six years old. Seth nodded towards the presents resting in front of Ryan.
"So are you going to open them with your actual hands, or just wait until your mutation kicks in?"
"What?" asked Ryan, completely confused.
"X-Men, have I taught you noth- never mind. Are you going to open them?"
"I guess."
He looked at the two presents, trying to decide which one to brave first. Seth suddenly stood up.
"Sorry, I should probably just leave you to it," he said, clearly worried that he'd intruded as he backed towards the door, "I mean, you came out here for a reason, right, and I lumber in after you like an idiot. Which I am, I'm an idiot."
"Seth! Would you just calm down already?!" exclaimed Ryan, trying not to laugh at his friend's social bumbling, "It's fine. Just deciding which to open first."
"Oh. Cool," said Seth, obviously relieved as he sat back on the floor, "Well, just remember the first rule of Chrismukkah; always open the biggest present first."
"I thought the first rule was there should always be chocolate within arm's reach," Ryan said, reaching for the blue box from Trey and starting work on the bow.
"That's the second rule. Pay attention."
"Sorry," said Ryan, pulling off the lid and pulling back a layer of tissue paper beneath to reveal a simple but graceful pair of hand carved wooden bookends, a small R carved into one, a matching A carved into the other.
"Hey cool," said Seth admiringly, "Those from your brother?"
"Yeah," said Ryan, smiling in awe as he turned them over in his hands. Like Ryan, Trey had an arty side, but he usually kept it under wraps. But these, these, were something else; unfussy, elegant and beautifully done. His bike had just been kicked into second place.
"Can I?" asked Seth timidly, holding his hand out.
"Sure," replied Ryan, handing him one of the bookends and setting the other down reverently on the bed. Reaching into the box again, he peeled back a second layer of tissue to find a 500 piece Where's Waldo? jigsaw. Two for two; so far so good.
"Excellent," he said, scanning the picture briefly before holding it up for Seth to see, "I am so bad at this."
"Oh, it's a classic. And me too. I used to cheat and look it up on the Internet."
"Dude, that's just sad," Ryan said, laughing.
"Yeah, I know," sighed Seth, handing the bookend carefully back to Ryan, "So, so far so good, huh?"
"Looks that way," Ryan replied, placing the bookends back in the box and pulling his mother's gift towards him. He took a deep breath. After Trey's double hitter, Ryan didn’t really care if it didn’t match up and he didn’t expect it to. As long as it didn’t embarrass him, or make Seth feel awkward, he'd be happy.
Carefully, so as not to rip the paper, Ryan painstakingly peeled off the tape in the same manner that had Seth had found so unbearable earlier that day. Finally, he turned it over and taking a mental deep breath, open up the paper.
"Oh my God," he said, stunned by what he saw nestling in the paper before him.
"Good oh my God, or bad oh my God?" asked Seth nervously.
"Good, definitely," said Ryan unable to tear his gaze away from the collection of oddities that sat on his bed.
Starting at the bottom was a CD. He slid it out to show Seth; Disney Classics.
"It's oh so minty, " Seth said, his face lighting up, "Please tell me there's a story or I may just have to lose all respect for you."
"It was my favorite, I made Mom borrow it from the library for me all the time. She wouldn’t buy it so I eventually stole their copy."
"You rebel with a very tragic cause, you," teased Seth. Ryan smiled, ignoring him.
"My Dad had a fit, which was kind of ironic, since he'd held up a Seven-Eleven in the morning."
"All parents are hypocritical Ry, it's like a law," said Seth, trying not break into a song and dance routine in jubilation at Ryan's voluntary, not-too-depressing-sharing, "Just tell me your favorite wasn't from Snow White."
"Ugly Bug Ball, every time."
"Okay, that's vaguely acceptable," Seth conceded before asking, "So what else you got?"
Ryan held up a baseball glove and a yellowing ball with scrawled writing on it, "First glove; spent hours playing catch with Amy, the girl next door to me in Fresno. She had an arm like you wouldn’t believe."
"I know nothing about baseball, so I probably would. What about the ball?"
"I always wanted to go to a Dodgers game, but we couldn’t afford it so Trey said he'd get them to sign a ball for me." He tossed it at Seth.
"No way, the Dodgers signed this?!" Seth exclaimed excitedly, catching it neatly, "Okay, I know enough about baseball to know that that's seriously cool."
"And it would be if it were actually signed by them and not my brother and his friends."
"Okay, that's just too sad a story for Chrismukkah," said Seth, tossing the ball back.
"Are you kidding? I was thrilled, I thought it was real."
"I thought you were meant to be smart."
"Trey told me not to say anything the kids at school to anyone 'cause they'd all be wanting one too."
"That's kinda cute. Say, did you know they've taken gullible out of the dictionary?"
"Very funny," Ryan said dryly, before turning his attention to the last of his mother's gifts. It was wrapped carefully in red tissue paper. Picking it up, he had no idea what it might be. Carefully unfolding the layers, he reached the center, his mouth dropping open in amazement at what he found.
It was Purple Boo.
"Oh, wow," Ryan said softly under his breath. He didn’t even know his Mom had saved him, he thought he'd been lost in the big move South.
Small, oddly flat and more or less bear shaped. Mostly bald, with tufts of purple fur. Slightly squidgy, like he was stuffed with cotton wool. No discernible ears and eyes made out of small circles of black and white felt. A dirty white blob with another circle of black felt for a nose. A faded hand knitted turquoise scarf tied round his neck, beneath which was a slightly cleaner band of fur. Stolen from Trey and claimed as his own at the age of two, Purple Boo was Ryan's first and only stuffed animal. Inseparable whilst they were together, Ryan was inconsolable when they were parted.
"Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Seth said after an impressively restrained moment of tact.
"Purple Boo," said Ryan, as he held Boo in his hands, stroking his head unselfconsciously.
"Good name," said Seth sincerely.
"I thought I'd left him in Fresno," said Ryan, setting him down in the cradle of his old baseball glove and looking up at Seth for the first time, "Guess my mom adopted him."
"Captain Oats is adopted. Car boot sale in Berkeley."
Ryan smiled at Seth and gathered together the bits of wrapping paper that littered the bed and slid them on to the floor in a neat pile. Leaving the other gifts on the bed, Ryan picked up Boo and the jigsaw and moved to the table.
"You want to?" asked Ryan as he peeled off the packaging.
"Sure," said Seth, getting up off the floor, "I am the jigsaw king. But I need a beat. You want?"
"Yeah, go ahead," said Ryan.
As Ryan shook the pieces out into the box and mixing them up, Seth took the Disney CD from the bed and crossed to the stereo in the corner. Turning it over in his hands to look at the back, he noticed what Ryan in his happiness hadn’t; the small intact security clip discreetly stuck to the bottom of the CD case. Looking over at his friend, studying the picture on the jigsaw box for the elusive Waldo, Purple Boo in pride of place beside him, he knew it would break his heart if he found it too. Quickly and subtly, he grabbed Ryan’s keys from the counter and carefully used it to slip the tag free.
"You coming, or what?” asked Ryan, glancing over his shoulder just as Seth slipped the evidence into his pocket.
"Yeah, I’m coming," Seth replied, replacing Ryan’s keys and slipping the CD inside the stereo and moving to join his friend as the music kicked in.
"Once a lonely caterpillar sat and cried, to a sympathetic beetle by his side," they sang unselfconsciously together under their breath, as they sifted through the pieces searching for the corners before simultaneously turning up the volume, "I’ve got nobody to hug! I’m such an ug-u-ly bug!"
It didn’t escape Seth’s notice that Ryan was distinctly better than he was. Getting a sudden mental picture of Ryan in musicals, he found himself grinning his head off. After a few minutes contented singing along, Seth stopped and looked over at his friend.
"So, tell me honestly, Ryan," he asked, a little nervously, "Today, it's been a good day, right?"
Ryan smiled goofily back at him. He could feel the nutmeg starting to work its magic.
"Yeah, trust me," he said earnestly, "The Best Chrismmukah Ever."
~~~