I do not own Milo Murphy's Law.


Originally written a year ago on Tumblr.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!


Gift Exchange

It was two days before Christmas and after a week of searching, Milo was unable to find Dakota and Cavendish anywhere. Considering the men had made themselves a constant presence in his life, Milo couldn't help but be worried.

He peeked down alleyways, scoured the mall and combed every inch of the local park, but saw no sign of the time travelers. After doing another lap around town only to once again come up empty, Milo decided to take a break. He pushed his way inside a café and took a seat at a table near the window. He shrugged off his jacket and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, letting out a sigh.

"I should have had it ready last week," he said aloud. "At least then I could have given it to them before Christmas."

He hadn't seen the pair since they took him back in time to see the Christmas Tree Incident, a holiday disaster courtesy of Murphy's Law that had occurred when he was six. There was an uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach, for ever since he properly met Dakota and Cavendish, he hadn't gone so long without seeing them.

Something hard slapped his back, jerking Milo out of his pondering and causing him to jump in surprise. He snapped his head around and was greeted by the two people he had been searching for all week.

"Dakota! Cavendish!" he exclaimed.

"You look rather glum," spoke Cavendish, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"And it's not a good look for you," added Dakota. "What's up, kid?"

"I've been looking everywhere for you guys," said Milo with a wide grin. "I was worried when I couldn't find you."

"Ah. Sorry about that. Our phones went dead in the Renaissance era and there aren't exactly ways to charge a cell phone created in 2175."

"Especially since someone forget to bring our charging ports," added Cavendish, sending a disapproving glare towards Dakota.

Dakota rolled his eyes. "Look, how many times do you want me to say sorry? I forgot. It's not like ya bothered to remind me."

"All right, all right, we were both at fault." Turning to Milo, Cavendish asked curiously, "Did you need our assistance with something?"

"Oh no. I just needed to give you your Christmas presents." Milo reached into his backpack and removed two lumpy packages. When Dakota and Cavendish stared at them in surprise, Milo thought their reaction was directed at his unusual wrapping job. "It's got five layers of wrapping paper over a box and there's a whole roll of tape keeping it in place. I kinda have to overdo it to make sure nothing happens to them."

"Milo, my boy, you didn't have to procure presents for us," said Cavendish, accepting his gift.

"I know, but I wanted to."

"Me first!" Dakota ripped through the layers of red and green paper in earnest, revealing the medium-sized cardboard box. He opened it and reached inside, removing a knitted burgundy set of mittens, scarf and a winter hat. Accompanying the winter wear was a pair of leg warmers. "Sweet! Thanks, Milo. You make these yourself?"

"Yup!"

Cavendish also received a set of winter clothing, in the colour of dark green. He also discovered a set of handkerchiefs with his name sewn on them. "You can knit and sew?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah, I go through a lot of socks and stuff," replied Milo, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's expensive to keep buying new ones so my mom and dad taught me how to knit, sew, crochet, and all that. It's really useful. But it takes me a while to finish something." He removed his mittens to show his hands, which sported bandages to cover the injuries from his crafting endeavors. "Do you like them?" he then asked hopefully.

"Of course! Leg warmers are always in style," declared Dakota, promptly yanking them on.

"These are very nice," agreed Cavendish, pocketing his handkerchiefs. "What gave you the idea?"

"Oh, well, you weren't wearing any winter clothing last time I saw you and it's pretty cold out there. I thought you could use these."

Dakota grinned. "You're a sweet kid. You know that?"

"Thanks," said Milo, a light blush colouring his cheeks. "I'm glad you like them."

"As fate would have it, we were actually in search of you to give you something," said Cavendish, removing a small black velvet box from his pocket. "It's a Christmas gift and a thank-you for all your help with the Pistashions."

"You didn't have to do that," said Milo, touched.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a hypocrite," said Dakota with a smirk. "We did it 'cause we wanted to."

"Fair enough."

Milo carefully took the velvet box and opened it. Inside was an open-faced pocket watch, the silver metal dull and worn, and the face of the watch revealed the gears and the inner-workings of the device. It was clearly old and Milo's eyes widened. "Whoa! Where did this come from?"

"Late 16th century, early 17th," replied Cavendish. "But we used our technology from 2175 to make adjustments to it."

"Like what?"

Before they could answer, there was a prolonged, blaring honk of a car's horn. Milo turned his head to see a car jump the curb and careen towards the cafe's front windows. The trio hastily moved to the side as the other customers scrambled to get out of the way. The car smashed through the window and came to a halt in the middle of the cafe, glass and debris spraying everywhere. Milo raised his hands to guard his face and chunk of brick struck the pocket watch clutched in his grip. When the debris settled, Milo frantically looked at the watch and was stunned to see not even a scuff on the glass that covered the watch face.

Dakota crossed his arms, satisfied. "It's indestructible."

"Awesome," said Milo in awe. He had lost track of all the watches he had broken over the years. He slipped the gift back into its case and put it in his backpack. "Thanks a lot! I love it."

"You're very welcome, my boy."

"You hungry?" asked Dakota, pulling on his knit hat. "I'm hungry. Let's get lunch. You gotta be anywhere, kid?"

"Nope. Lunch sounds great." As Milo followed the two out of the half-mangled cafe, the unharmed customers gaping at the mess, a warmth blossomed in his chest and a wide smile spread across his face. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Milo."

"Yes, merry Christmas, lad."