Disclaimer: Not mine… never have been, never will… All Hasbro's, Marvel's, DDP's etc… except for Katie and Paul. They are all mine. MINE I say!
This story is kind of a sequel to my story "Perfect". You should probably read that one first.
Her Favorite Color
Katie took the long piece of fabric from the table and carefully pulled it through her fingers, enjoying the soft feeling. This was the one family tradition she'd never mind. If she'd ever forget it, Paul, her brother, would never let her live that down since she was the one who had started it, technically at least.
With a smile, she wrapped the string of fabric around her hand and let it roll off again. It was bright red, like a firetruck. Ever since she had been a little girl, it had been her favorite color, because of their little tradition. To her, red wasn't just a color.
It was much, much more than that.
Suddenly she heard footsteps coming in from behind her and knew immediately that it was her father.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. He always used that softer one with her and Paul.
Katie turned around and smirked. "I was born ready."
Wayne Sneeden snorted. "Wasn't it enough that you got your mother's looks? Did you also have to inherit her smart mouth?"
"Nope," Katie said. "But why should I deny it when I got it offered? Besides, it's what you love about her most, ergo that means it's what you love most about me."
"Whatever."
Smiling, Katie held out the bow to him, and Wayne took it. He then walked over to the Christmas tree and carefully tied the bow around the tip of the tree, just below the crystal star. They had done this every year since her very first Christmas, when her father had tried to make everything absolutely perfect, until she had given him the bow. In those years her father hadn't been able to celebrate Christmas at home, her mother had tied the bow to the tree, and even though it wasn't the same, Katie had always felt as if he'd been there. They were connected to each other by this little piece of red fabric. As long as it was on the tree, she didn't care much about what was underneath it.
Slowly, Wayne walked to the couch and sat down next to his daughter. His once auburn hair was now spotted with grey (which he blamed on her mother and the Army's inability to give him proper recruits, but mostly on her mother) and his faces showed the first wrinkles, but to Katie he was still the man who had carried her around on his shoulders when she got too tired to walk as a child, who had taught her how to ride a bike, the man who had told her bedtime stories. That image would never change.
Smiling, she cuddled up next to him, and Wayne pulled her close.
"Merry Christmas, Daddy," Katie said softly.
"Merry Christmas, Pumkin," he said and kissed her forehead. Katie looked back at the tree, her eyes fixing on the bow.
No, red wasn't just a color.
Red meant that her father loved her and their family, that he was always with them, even if it wasn't physically. Red meant the feeling of safety she had when she was in his arms. Red meant that perfection is what you made of it, and right now, there wasn't anything more perfect than sitting on the couch with her dad, admiring the tree they had decorated together.