[The Dresden Files] "Returned Favor" (PG)
Dec. 8th, 2013 01:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for < lj user="adventchallenge">'s "Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots". Set at the Christmas after the events of "It's My Birthday, Too".
I hadn't forgotten the events of Valentine's Night: no way anyone could forget a mall full of Black Court vampires trying to devour a mall full of Vampire: The Masquerade LARPers, with my brother the White Court vampire hiding in plain sight as one of the players. A needle in a stack of pins, no better place to hide.
In the fracas that followed, I lost the birthday present that I had wanted to give to my brother. I'd pretty much put it behind me: we had our Hallmark after we'd escaped the mess, and that seemed to be the end of it.
Till I came home from Christmas dinner at the Carpenter house, a somewhat grim affair, though Molly and Charity did their best to keep the kids' hope up. Hard thing to do, since Michael, the head of the family had yet to come home from the hospital, though several families from the parish had done their best to pitch in to help. Still, I left with more than a bit of a pang lurking in a corner of my heart.
I quickly forgot about that, when I found a note tucked under my door.
I pulled it out: a fancy green parchment envelope, but when I opened it, I found a folded bit of notebook paper:
Harry,
Found you were out, after I tore myself away from my sister's idea of Christmas. Hope you're not working a case today, but if you get a minute tonight, come by my place. I have something for you.
It's not a girl, I don't bring home 'leftovers' from my family's parties. Get your mind out of the gutter, especially at Christmas!
Thomas
My brother had something in mind, but the mention of leftovers made me roll my eyes.
Still, I got back in the Jeep and drove to my brother's apartment, his pad away from his family of vampires. Strings of white and colored lights glowed in the windows as I drove into the complex and parked, and more white lights covered the manicured junipers that flanked the door. The doorman buzzed me in -- I insisted that I had to see "Toe-mas", that he had invited me to come up and you don't keep sweethearts apart especially at Christmas -- and went up to his apartment.
Thomas met me at the door, a smirk crossing his face. At least he had a shirt on, albeit a green tee shirt, a sure sign that he really had *not* brought home any company for the evening. "Hey, you made it," he said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let me in. He had decked the front room with more white lights and what looked like "tasteful" and "modern" Christmas decorations -- wreaths of silvery holly with gold berries on the walls, gold and silver wire spiral trees that looked like tapered Slinkies frozen into place -- but which looked like anything but Christmas to me. The construction paper, paper plate and library paste contraptions that the kids in the orphanage used to make felt more Christmas-y than this dreck.
"Just got in from Christmas with the Carpenters," I said, shucking my duster, which Thomas took from me and slung over the back of a couch that did not look as if the designers meant anyone to sit on it.
Thomas smirked. "Didn't know you were into smooth Seventies pop," he said.
"I'm serious: I had to put in an appearance, even if Charity barely wanted me around," I retorted, dangerously close to smacking him for that pun. Ordinarily, it would make me smirk, but not this year.
His face quickly relaxed, and he nodded, getting the hint. "Right, Christmas and family and things like that," he said. "Got your present in the next room, under the tree."
"Reading my mind now?" I asked.
"You were giving the decoration a dirty look," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me into the living room proper. Which looked more like my idea of Christmas: stockings on the gas fireplace, wooden reindeer and a wooden sleigh on the side table, a resin Nativity scene on a window sill (hey, I might have stopped believing in the Man Upstairs, but I'm the last person to get into the whole Holidays nonsense. Not believing does not make the day any less the birthday of a street preacher in Palestine), and a fir Christmas tree with colored lights, colored glass balls, tinsel garland and strands of tinsel and dorky but folksy wooden ornaments. And a package wrapped in Santa paper on the red and white fake fur tree skirt that covered the floor under the tree. Thomas nudged me to sit down on the couch as he stooped to pull the package out and hand it to me.
"Aww, you shouldn't have," I said, taking it, tearing into the paper.
And uncovering a vintage Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots, a slightly older model than the one I had found, with the blue and red robots rather than the grey and red ones, and with a box in better shape. "Now where'd you scare this up from?" I asked.
"Online auction: I had to cream three other bidders to get you this set," he said, clearing a coffee table of its tinsel table trees. "Come on, open it up."
"You're serious?" I said.
"You said you'd wanted a set when you were a kid," he said, looking me in the face but avoiding my eyes. No place for a soul gaze here. "Now's your chance, especially now that you've got a brother to play with."
Well, dammit, they do say that everyone's a kid at Christmas, and I could not argue with the earnest look on Thomas's face. "What the hell, why not?" I said, cutting the tape on the box with my thumb and opening it, taking out the plastic boxing ring and setting to work assembling the 'bots....
I hadn't forgotten the events of Valentine's Night: no way anyone could forget a mall full of Black Court vampires trying to devour a mall full of Vampire: The Masquerade LARPers, with my brother the White Court vampire hiding in plain sight as one of the players. A needle in a stack of pins, no better place to hide.
In the fracas that followed, I lost the birthday present that I had wanted to give to my brother. I'd pretty much put it behind me: we had our Hallmark after we'd escaped the mess, and that seemed to be the end of it.
Till I came home from Christmas dinner at the Carpenter house, a somewhat grim affair, though Molly and Charity did their best to keep the kids' hope up. Hard thing to do, since Michael, the head of the family had yet to come home from the hospital, though several families from the parish had done their best to pitch in to help. Still, I left with more than a bit of a pang lurking in a corner of my heart.
I quickly forgot about that, when I found a note tucked under my door.
I pulled it out: a fancy green parchment envelope, but when I opened it, I found a folded bit of notebook paper:
Harry,
Found you were out, after I tore myself away from my sister's idea of Christmas. Hope you're not working a case today, but if you get a minute tonight, come by my place. I have something for you.
It's not a girl, I don't bring home 'leftovers' from my family's parties. Get your mind out of the gutter, especially at Christmas!
Thomas
My brother had something in mind, but the mention of leftovers made me roll my eyes.
Still, I got back in the Jeep and drove to my brother's apartment, his pad away from his family of vampires. Strings of white and colored lights glowed in the windows as I drove into the complex and parked, and more white lights covered the manicured junipers that flanked the door. The doorman buzzed me in -- I insisted that I had to see "Toe-mas", that he had invited me to come up and you don't keep sweethearts apart especially at Christmas -- and went up to his apartment.
Thomas met me at the door, a smirk crossing his face. At least he had a shirt on, albeit a green tee shirt, a sure sign that he really had *not* brought home any company for the evening. "Hey, you made it," he said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let me in. He had decked the front room with more white lights and what looked like "tasteful" and "modern" Christmas decorations -- wreaths of silvery holly with gold berries on the walls, gold and silver wire spiral trees that looked like tapered Slinkies frozen into place -- but which looked like anything but Christmas to me. The construction paper, paper plate and library paste contraptions that the kids in the orphanage used to make felt more Christmas-y than this dreck.
"Just got in from Christmas with the Carpenters," I said, shucking my duster, which Thomas took from me and slung over the back of a couch that did not look as if the designers meant anyone to sit on it.
Thomas smirked. "Didn't know you were into smooth Seventies pop," he said.
"I'm serious: I had to put in an appearance, even if Charity barely wanted me around," I retorted, dangerously close to smacking him for that pun. Ordinarily, it would make me smirk, but not this year.
His face quickly relaxed, and he nodded, getting the hint. "Right, Christmas and family and things like that," he said. "Got your present in the next room, under the tree."
"Reading my mind now?" I asked.
"You were giving the decoration a dirty look," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me into the living room proper. Which looked more like my idea of Christmas: stockings on the gas fireplace, wooden reindeer and a wooden sleigh on the side table, a resin Nativity scene on a window sill (hey, I might have stopped believing in the Man Upstairs, but I'm the last person to get into the whole Holidays nonsense. Not believing does not make the day any less the birthday of a street preacher in Palestine), and a fir Christmas tree with colored lights, colored glass balls, tinsel garland and strands of tinsel and dorky but folksy wooden ornaments. And a package wrapped in Santa paper on the red and white fake fur tree skirt that covered the floor under the tree. Thomas nudged me to sit down on the couch as he stooped to pull the package out and hand it to me.
"Aww, you shouldn't have," I said, taking it, tearing into the paper.
And uncovering a vintage Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots, a slightly older model than the one I had found, with the blue and red robots rather than the grey and red ones, and with a box in better shape. "Now where'd you scare this up from?" I asked.
"Online auction: I had to cream three other bidders to get you this set," he said, clearing a coffee table of its tinsel table trees. "Come on, open it up."
"You're serious?" I said.
"You said you'd wanted a set when you were a kid," he said, looking me in the face but avoiding my eyes. No place for a soul gaze here. "Now's your chance, especially now that you've got a brother to play with."
Well, dammit, they do say that everyone's a kid at Christmas, and I could not argue with the earnest look on Thomas's face. "What the hell, why not?" I said, cutting the tape on the box with my thumb and opening it, taking out the plastic boxing ring and setting to work assembling the 'bots....
