DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; no profits made.
Christmas Challenge '08: a Gift for Mari83
A/N: This is my Secret Santa Christmas gift for Mari83, who deserves an extra special thanks for volunteering to host this year's M/L Secret Santa Challenge, to be sure all the wish lists were distributed, and for keeping the Christmas cheer alive! Her wishes were as follows:
Things You Don't Want to See in Your Story: 1) No virus; 2) S2 only with a S1 feeling, set-up etc.
Wish List: 1) Normal having a laughing fit; 2) Logan repairing a flat (bike) tire; 3) Christmas spirit of whichever kind, definition or quantity; 4) Angel cake; 5) Something new for Max (experience, thing, whatever)
Since this is an S1 fic (I'm assuming first Christmas, but it's open for interpretation) the "don't wants" are covered – see if you think I managed most of the wishes, at least close to them... :D I know the story got crazy long, but all the prompts wanted a chance. Please stop in and let me know what you thought. But most of all:
Merry, Mari, Merry Christmas, Mari83 and everyone!
Making Christmas Merry
Thanksgiving wasn't even a full day past, and the riders at Jam Pony felt the hum of the holidays picking up their pace – already there were more packages, more deliveries, and it only promised to be busier as the month went on. The news had been filled lately with reports and commentary that the recovery was proceeding with ever-increasing speed – even though Logan had passed on to Max his informant's tid-bit that the recovery hadn't picked up at all, it was just that the regional governors decided that if they told the populace that the recovery was in full swing, they'd relax, spend what hard earned money they had, and feed the economy to get a boost for real.
And even though it was a typically sleazy trick, it did seem to have the effect of cheering everyone up, coming right in time for the holidays. It certainly helped fill Max's pockets, what with the extra runs and happier customers. This year, the first week of the season alone had brought her more tips than she'd made the entire month of November. Enough that I could do a little Christmas for everyone and still have enough, finally, to get those tires... she imagined, happily.
Her bike's tires were nearly bald and, especially over the past couple nights of freezing rain, she could feel they weren't holding the pavement as they should. For months now, she'd watched the stores and the sales and even the guys selling tires off the back of trucks, but there were no retread bike tires to be found, only factory-new ones – some great looking tires – but for far more money than she could get together. She'd managed with the old ones until the combination of slick streets this week and even balder tires told her she needed to do something soon. She'd just paid back Logan from the last two loans he'd made her, and she'd vowed not to rely on him again – at least not so soon...
But with holiday tips flowing and now, overtime almost daily, Max thought she could get more than enough saved all by the end of the month, and dreamed more and more often of buying some real Christmas presents for her friends and new tires for her baby. The idea of doing it all on her own, legally, gave Max a certain glow of pride – even if Logan never knew, this was something she knew he'd be proud of her for doing. And everything will mean a little more, at least to me, when I can walk in and pay, just like everyone else does...
She'd been so busy in fact she hadn't seen Logan in days. But it was sunny and lunchtime in Sector Nine, and she was so close to his place, she decided to stop in to see him. Coming into his building's attractive lobby, she walked her bike in toward the security desk and spoke briefly to Joseph, the guard on duty who seemed to have a special, fatherly affection for Logan. She'd barely leaned her bike against the back wall when he spoke.
"Miss? If you're looking for Mr. Logan..." She stopped with a nod and waited – in the past, he'd saved her a trip upstairs when he knew Logan was out. "He's out in the courtyard."
She frowned. "What courtyard?"
The older man chuckled. "Ah. He's out in what was the courtyard – if you go through the garage, there's a door at the south end – the only way in, since they closed up the wall around the property. He's doing some work out there."
"Thank you," she nodded, curious now. Walking though the garage, she saw the door she'd seen but never really considered, now standing part way open. Stepping though, sure enough, she saw Logan sitting by one of the once-attractive wrought iron tables, with bottles and rags and other things at his elbow – and a large, thin tire in his lap. "Hey," she called out.
His face broke out in a pleased grin to see her. "Hey, Max," he stopped his work and watched her approach. "I wondered if I'd see you before the Christmas rush was over."
"Well, Sector Nine deliveries are picking up – your neighbors are finally getting some holiday spirit. Might let me stop by once in a while." She sat on the edge of one of the matching chairs and looked around the courtyard, clearly something in its prime but now mostly grown over with untrimmed vines and other vegetation, paint not touched up for a while despite the solid construction of the trellises and furniture she saw. "This is nice. No one uses it anymore?"
He shook his head. "After the Pulse, they walled it off for protection and privacy, but used their funds on the building itself, to keep it in good repair. Every once in a while I think about pressing the issue, to see if we can clean the place up. It would be nice to use it for more than this." He waved the rag in his hand, and Max caught a whiff of the strong vapors that must have been his reason for working outside.
"Whatcha building?" she asked, tipping her chin toward the tire in his lap.
He smirked. "Patching a patch. Got a flat in my court chair – even Bling's best contacts say it will be six to eight weeks before they can get a new tire out here. 'Til then – another patch."
She eyed his work approvingly. "Logan Cale, man of means, man of money, and you know how to patch a tire just like the street brothers – good to know." She laughed, and added ruefully, "how are you with bike tires?"
"You have a flat?" he asked.
"Nah, nothin' that easy. I got no tread – my tires are as bald as Herbal's head. Patching isn't what they need," she mused.
"Should you be riding on them in that shape? The weather lately – "
"...has been a bitch; yeah, I know, believe me." She saw the handsome face darken with his concerned frown, and she waved it away, "but at least this crazy fake-recovery is letting me make out like a bandit – I'm gonna have Christmas shopping money for all my peeps, and for tires." She considered the thought, then laughed, happily, "I don't know that I have ever been able to say that before."
"Look, Max, if you want to just order them now, I can pay..."
But she was shaking her head stubbornly. "Nope, this is gonna be all me this time. I've got it covered – but thank you," she remembered to add as she stood, still buoyed by the idea that Christmas wasn't going to be just another day of stretching pennies to get by. "And so I can make good on it all – I gotta jet. Sure is a good time to be a revved up female – plenty of deliveries to fit in, for lots of generous feeling peeps."
Logan smiled with her enthusiasm. "Sounds perfect. Look, when you want to order those tires – I know a couple places to try that will be reasonable – they'll at least give you decent quality for your money. Let me know when you're ready and I can call.."
She beamed. "Now that's the kind of help I'll take. Late– " she turned to go.
"See ya." He watched her bounce off in her enthusiasm, and felt his smile lingering. He was pleased that it meant so much to her, buying the tires and Christmas gifts, all on her own ... But even more ... it meant a whole lot to him to know now just what he could do to give Max a Christmas present she really needed, and wanted ... and would mean more to her than any of his other ideas so far...
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Only fifteen days later, Max's hard-earned tips had come and gone as she sat with Cindy at Crash, morosely staring into her beer. Sketchy came up and slid into the seat across from them. "Herbal was awake enough to talk this time. They got him plenty doped up, for the pain, but he says they told him things looked good." Sketchy looked at the women. "His woman told him about the money, you know ... he says he'll pay every one of us back, no matter how long it takes, and wanted me to be sure to thank everyone, especially you guys."
"Well, Brother Man needed his leg fixed after that truck took him out. I can't believe Normal wouldn't approve him for the surgery. He coulda said it was because of work..." Cindy insisted again.
"Normal said he tried – but the company said it was 'optional' surgery," Max shook her head. "The doctor says it wouldn't grow together right without being pinned on the inside, that it could have led to worse things without operating. What part of that is optional?" She asked, still angry. Maybe another scam Eyes Only ought to investigate ... She'd tell Logan about it all, she vowed. If they hadn't had the money, Herbal might not have gotten the surgery. And the odds of money like that being available again ...
"Well, if it had to happen, lucky for Herbal it did at Christmas, when the tips were flowing." Sketchy reasoned. "Damn," he reflected. "Did you ever think that we'd be able to hand over twelve thousand dollars, cash, just cos the Man was askin'?" He grinned, still impressed with the thought.
"Kinda changes the outlook for everyone else, though. I decided just what I could get for everyone this year – even you, Sketch." Max looked up first at Sketchy, seeing his pleased reaction, then at her best friend, sadly, to say, "I wanted to get you those boots you've been lusting for. Don't think there's enough time to get the together money now, though. I wish there was..."
"Oh, Boo, fo' real? Damn, that's nice of you." Cindy offered a genuine, touched smile. "Almost as good as getting them, hearin' that." She leaned sideways to bump her shoulder affectionately against Max's.
Sketchy shook his head, a moist, goofy smile lighting his face. "That sounds like Christmas past," he offered. "First year after the Pulse, we had nuthin' at Christmas. There were six of us kids, four of us and two cousins, and my mom and aunt. And they lined us all up the night before Christmas and told us that Santa had been as busted by the Pulse as all of us were, and couldn't get to Seattle that year. Man," he reflected, remembering. "We were some pretty unhappy kids. But then my mom and aunt started riffin' on it, ya know? They started telling each other what they were gonna get for each other, but the Pulse busted them." He grinned widely with the memory. "After a while they were talking about some things none of us kids understood then, and started laughing so hard at each other, that we started laughing too. So then they started in on what they were gonna get for us, ponies and bicycles and all kinds of stuff. And we did the same thing for each other." He shook his head with the memory. "We stayed up all night that night ... telling stories ... laughing ... and in the morning we went to this big church downtown, St. Ben's, I think ... they had hot breakfast for anyone who came in ... and hot chocolate ... and we went into the church and heard the choir singing..." His voice trailed off, remembering, then he blinked a little and focused on his friends. "Turns out it was a pretty good Christmas after all." Slightly embarrassed, he asked, "what about you guys?"
Cindy smiled almost as mistily as Sketchy had. "My mom an' dad worked 'til they dropped that year, trying to get by, but you know how it was. We had a decent house, so we were safe and dry, but payments took most of their money and they barely had enough left over for food for the family each week. But Mom saved up all she could, and Dad did some extra work, and at Christmas we had the first, full course dinner we'd had in six months – dessert, even. But what I remember most was that they made us presents – and in secret, they helped each of us make presents for each other." She beamed. "Some of them were the most raggedy, sad looking presents ever – but they were special, cos we made them just for each other." She shrugged and looked at Max, "we could still do that, Boo – make presents. We all kick in our pennies, we could get some ingredients and make cookies or candy or something..."
Max snorted, "yeah, right. That's what I want to do to someone I like – kill 'em with something I cooked..."
But Cindy pounced at that, grinning ear to ear. "Any particular 'him' you tryin' not to kill?" she teased. "Don't suppose he happens to be much of a cook himself..."
"There might be other people too," Max grumbled, defensively, "you, for one. And you," she glanced at Sketchy. "And Herbal. And even Normal," she frowned. She'd worked so long and hard to build up a bankroll this year that would have allowed her to do Christmas right and get something for all her friends – completely legally. The more she'd earned, the more it became important to prove to herself – even if Logan never knew – that she could do it on her own, no burgling, no handout loan from Logan. And now she was flat broke again...
"Boo, what you did with your money, what we all did, was a better Christmas present for your friends than any things you'd have given us – Herbal needed that operation and you havin' that stash meant he could get it – it barely was enough as it was, with all of us kickin' in. Our gifts this year are havin' a friend like Herbal – and having a good enough year that we could help him out in his time of need." She looked into Max's eyes, pressing her point, until she saw that Max got it. "Aiiight?" she smiled, as she saw the grudging acceptance. At Max's nod, she answered with a satisfied nod. "Aiiight." She then grinned, "and your gift is having friends who can help you with that cooking thing..."
Max groaned. "You sure it has to be cooking?"
"Not 100%, but you tell me what else you can make." When Max had no answer, Cindy nodded, "thought so. Besides, you shop right, see the right people, you can stretch a few coins a long way for ingredients..." Max worked really hard not to think of how easily she could break in to just about any store in town and just lift whatever she'd planned to buy – Cindy's boots included. But Cindy was on a roll now and was excitedly planning a girly cooking session. "And I remember back when the Pulse hit the hardest, there were all kinds of things people were doing to stretch a dollar to make lots of good food. Depending on what we find, I can call my sister. I think she may still have some of those recipes..."
"You're making some for me too, right?" Sketchy gave them his best hangdog look "'cos I kicked in all I had, and I can't go home for Christmas empty-handed..."
Cindy snorted. "Sure, Sketch, you kick in what you left, you get a share. And we got to take something to Herbal – poor man's gonna be in the hospital over Christmas, he oughta at least get some holiday cheer from us."
Max looked at her friend, whose enthusiasm for her plan was growing by the moment, and she finally just laughed, shaking her head. "You pull this off and help me make something edible for Logan – you just may be a Christmas miracle worker."
"Yeah, you see, Boo? That's the spirit..." She poured around the remaining bit of beer from their one pitcher they could manage with pocket change. "Time for a game plan ... think Kendra would want in on this? 'Cos you two have a better oven than I do and the girl may have some extra change to kick into the project."
"Kendra?" Max shrugged, "Sure, I'll ask her – seems like something she might like to do."
"Good. The three of us will be about all that will fit in your place for all this. When we gonna do it?"
"I think Kendra's leaving town on the 24th. She has some job that morning, and she's leaving right after."
"And Normal is gonna have us bip-bip-bipping 'til the last minute that day. When's he setting us free, six o'clock?"
"He was talking about eight," Sketchy said morosely.
"Then maybe we cook after work on the 23rd – and sneak over on lunch, or on break. Then we have the 24th to deliver our own presents, while we' runnin' for Normal. If Kendra's not busy she could get us started while we're at work."
It certainly made sense ... and the thought of cooking up Christmas goodies with friends – friends who could cook and would cover for her if she screwed up – started sounding more and more appealing. She finally gave in, and lifted her mug to offer to toward the others. "To home made presents!" She laughed.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Max had to admit that Original Cindy's idea was not only working out perfectly, but that it was working more smoothly than she'd ever imagined. Not only did they have those extra few days to scrape up more tips to add to the ingredient fund, but at Original Cindy's suggestion they all kept their eyes open for special ingredients, new ideas. They parlayed their familiarity with many of Seattle's small businesses to add to their resources – Cindy found a caterer who was stuck with a large sheet cake, baked but not iced, after an engagement party was cancelled; Max pestered a local baker to sell her some of the small bits of chocolate or other candy scraps left after decorating his wares. They kept an eye out for baskets or boxes they could get for nearly nothing – and each of the women had to give it up for Sketchy, when he brought them a large roll of pristine butcher paper, to turn Max's worn tables and counters into a real kitchen, ready for production.
They had their game plan, their schedule. And on the 23rd, Kendra got things started at the apartment as Max and Cindy alternately delivered and ran by for a quick bit of help. Their stops became a bit longer each time, however, and Normal grew more surly each hour. His two smarter messengers, which usually meant better messengers, had busted their humps the whole month and let him make delivery promises he thought he'd never make – but now they chose to start slacking?
"Where the fire truck's Max? And Cindy? It's December 23rd, for Pete's sake..." he yelled at Sketchy, as the messenger dropped off yet another signature. "At this rate, you'll all be here 'til midnight..."
"Look, Normal..." Without Max or Original Cindy to get his back, Sketchy was left to his own devices, and for whatever reason decided to tell the truth. "Because they had to give up their Christmas money for Herbal's leg, Max and Original Cindy are trying to make everyone some Christmas presents – you, too, even. They're doing their runs and swinging by Max's place, every other run or so. Just today."
Normal wavered, the combination of his own frustration with Jam Pony's insurance company not paying for his messenger's injury, the bit of Christmas spirit he was feeling – and the amazing thought that the two devious reprobates who worked for him were making him a present too – worked to soften his usual Grinchy reaction. "They are?"
Sketchy nodded.
"Just today?"
"I swear."
Normal actually nodded slowly, and grumbled, "well, okay – but if you see them, tell them their stops over there need to speed up a bit. And this isn't going to be a habit..."
"Not a habit," Sketchy agreed.
"So ... what are they making?" Normal asked, curious now. "Certainly they aren't knitting scarves and hats..."
"They're baking."
"Baking?" Normal's eyes went wide, and he started to grin his disbelief. "Baking? Max, Miss Bad Ass Tough girl, baking? Oh, I would pay to see that..." As he thought about it, Normal started laughing. More thinking ... more laughter...
"They might let you – how much?"
Normal was hooting his laughter now, and just grabbed another package for Sketchy to deliver. As usual, Sketchy didn't get Normal's sense of humor, so never explained that part to the women when they returned. When they each went to Normal, and even thanked him for cutting them some slack, they didn't understand why he just looked at them and hooted all over again.
"Normal' been hittin' the eggnog or somethin,'" Cindy explained to Kendra, later that evening, as she and Max rolled up their sleeves to stay and get the real baking started in earnest. "Whatever, he never said nothin' more about us comin' over here, once Sketch told him that's why we were runnin' late."
"Don't tell me that 'honesty is the best policy,' 'cos I won't believe that for Normal, not even at Christmas." Max started in on mixing ingredients for her first solo batch of goodies, stuff that they told her even she wouldn't mess up. She stirred melting ingredients at the stove under the watchful eye of Original Cindy, and watched the others as she learned about measuring and blending and kneading. Their apartment has started to take on the sweet, heady scents of the ingredients they used – sugar, chocolate, toasted nuts and cinnamon. They laughed and joked and delicious smelling food started appearing from their oven...
It had all been going so well that Max forgot about the money she'd lost, forgot about the darker side of her life and the world around her. It was all about friends and good times, she thought as she put another tray of cookies in the oven, and brought another rack of cookies to the table. This Christmas thing...
...was just another excuse for the skum out there to take advantage of the distraction! she suddenly growled to herself: as she came by the window she happened to glance out and saw – the nerve of the bastard! – that some sleazeball had managed to unchain her baby and walk it outside, where he had a waiting truck. "Shit!" she spat, crossing the apartment in the blink of an eye.
"Max! Where ...? Wait..." she heard from behind her, but was downstairs in one leap and outside before either of her friends could say more. Some Christmas, she glowered, as she streaked through the chilly, rainy evening toward her target, stupidly parked under the one working streetlight on her block. Barely bothering to look around for witnesses, Max blurred up to the guy and hauled him up to face her, nose to nose, and shook him a little as she growled, "just what do you think you're doing with my bike?"
The man's eyes went wide, but blinked back at her, eye to eye, and silently pointed over to her right...
...where she saw a chilly, hunkered down Logan Cale watching it all...
"Logan?" She was so surprised she let loose of the man's shirt, barely watching as he landed back on his feet in front of her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that, to his credit, the man didn't just take off, but merely turned to look at Logan, too, waiting...
"Hey." Logan didn't move, but looked up at her with a pleasant smile, as if it weren't freezing outside, as if he wasn't wet with the rain – and as if he wasn't just sitting there, watching some stranger vandalize her baby.
"Hey?" Max repeated, staring at him in disbelief. "That's all ya got?"
"Hey, Max?" he tried, his smile broadening into his favorite 'trust me,' expression of innocence. At her glare, he added, "it's not what you think..."
"What am I thinking?" she demanded.
"Something not good." He was failing miserably at stalling, and wondered why he hadn't thought about her catching him mid-surprise. "I think you'll be happy, when you hear..." he tried.
"What, that some guy is stripping my bike for parts?"
"No..." the 'guy' moved again, deciding that it was too cold not to just take the situation in hand himself. "'Some guy' is bringing you parts..." He stepped over to the back of his van and opened the double doors, revealing two gleaming new tires, and pulled out the first. "You just showed up too soon."
Max's eyes grew huge as she took in the crisp, sharp, deep tread, the pristine black rubber, and looked back to Logan. "You ... found these? For me?"
His eyebrows had lifted as he watched her closely. As certain as he was that this would mean more to Max than would jewelry or clothing or perfume, he knew better than to assume anything where Max was concerned. At her question, he shrugged a little and tried a small smile – an authentic one, this time. "Merry Christmas, Max."
He'd been right on the money on this one.
She blinked at him in surprise for another moment, then darted over to him to give him a quick, enthusiastic hug. "Oh, Logan, they're perfect!" She enthused, pulling back to pause a moment and look him in the eye, smiling in the most genuine pleasure he'd ever seen in her. "Thank you – "
The tire man deftly popped off her old, worn front tire, chuckling at Max's reaction, and muttered, "you're a lucky man, pal, to have a girlfriend who's excited about tires. My ol' lady still talks about diamonds. Diamonds! In this economy..."
Logan blushed at the man's misunderstanding, that Max was his girlfriend, and dared a glance at Max to see if it bothered her. But all he saw was her delight and an excitement she rarely let show, her eyes twinkling for him, as she turned back to the other to respond briefly, "how'm I gonna ride my bike on diamonds?" She looked back to Logan, and with a childlike curiosity, asked, "this all was just from the other day, when you were fixing your tire?" As he nodded, she sighed happily, impressed, "you're good."
He shrugged – almost embarrassed with her reaction and how pleased it made him – and minimized, "I hadn't thought about you zipping around out there on bald tires before. Not a very good idea."
"Well, this was a great idea." She favored him with another warm smile. "Thank you," she repeated, her look direct and appreciative.
He swore he felt himself warm all the way to his toes, but he managed to find his voice. "Merry Christmas, Max. Even if you caught Santa setting up your gift," he added ruefully.
The mechanic chuckled again as he worked, and nodded up to Max, "you can try out your present before Santa leaves, just to be sure they're on good and tight."
At that, Logan shifted to raise a hand, her spare keys dangling there. "Kendra slipped me your keys so we could get to it..." He glanced up toward the windows again and nodded. Max turned around to see Kendra's face at the window, grinning, as she waved...
...and Max suddenly remembered. "Oh, no; wait! Logan, I'll be back..." She dashed back inside, hoping that whatever cookies she could have ruined by charging out mid-baking, Kendra or Original Cindy could catch – or fix...
Logan watched her go, and looked back up to Kendra, who was laughing now, and Logan waved, grinning himself at that. As his companion glanced up from the tire with a quizzical look, Logan explained, "Max isn't much of a cook – and it looks as if when she saw you out here she was in the middle of baking something..."
It hadn't been that much of a guess: he'd taken in her appearance and, seeing a dishtowel slung over her shoulder and splatters of flour and batter on her sweater, and smelling a sweet, vanilla and sugar scent from her as she'd hugged him, he knew what must be up. Christmas cookies, maybe? Kendra must really have her hands full...
The mechanic was finishing up as Max came back out, her cheeks glowing warm and her hair a bit looser, curls bobbing with her steps, but otherwise surviving her emergency – and, as always, looking beautiful in it all, Logan found himself musing. "Everything alright?" he dared, still suspecting he knew what was up.
She nodded, looking a little sheepish, and shrugged, "fine." Her smile lingered on him a moment longer before she turned to her baby. "It's ready?"
"All set." The mechanic took a step back, and Logan handed over her keys. As she reached for them, he stopped her as she plucked them from his fingers.
"Hey," he said softly, his hand raising toward her. She waited – and with a grin, Logan reached up to pull the dishtowel from her shoulder, dangling it for a moment in front of her. Her grin in response was winsome and endearing... "Go on – try 'em out," he urged.
...and in only a couple seconds, he watched her flying down the block...
He grinned at the mechanic, now stowing his gear, and he shivered a little, now remembering the cold drizzle that had begun to pick up again. He fished his money out of his pocket. "Thanks a lot," he said to the man. "You were just in time to play Santa. And you helped make me a hero."
"Thank you," the man could see the generous tip included with his pay. "And any time you need to get her another present ... you give me a call," he grinned.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Max could have ridden all day, but knew that everyone was waiting for her – Kendra and Cindy would wonder where she'd gone, and the man with Logan was waiting for her so he could leave and maybe go diamond shopping for his wife. She did a couple test-bursts of speed, stopping suddenly – and stopping, not sliding. Perfect...
She pulled back up and thanked the man, and walked her bike back inside as Logan finished speaking with his guy, who then closed up his van to leave. The van was pulling away when she walked back up to a chilly, wet Logan, and she shook her head. "Logan – this is so ..." she shrugged. "Thank you. I wasn't going to be able to do this for myself for a while, after all."
"Then I'm glad I could help."
She tried not to laugh suddenly, as the 'p' sound he made came with a little poof of rain and steam in the chilly, wet air. He looked like a drowned puppy ... and he was actually shivering a bit now. She blustered a bit to cover the feelings raised at the sight. "But what did it get you? Look at you, Logan; you're soaked. You come down with something and Bling will never forgive me..."
He smiled a little and shrugged. "Party's over, anyway, I can just go on home. It looks as if we caught you in the middle of something..."
She looked at him with a sudden odd, guarded, even uncomfortable look, then seemed to shake it off as she rolled her eyes, as if in surrender. "You're not going all the way home soaked, when our place is warm and dry. C'mon upstairs." She turned to go back in, adding, "it's just Original Cindy and Kendra and me; we were just ... doing some Christmas things."
He looked at her in wary surprise, not yet moving. "'Christmas things?'"
She stopped in her tracks, hip out in attitude, and turned back to him. "Yeah, Christmas things... you know, ho ho ho, deck the halls, that sort of thing?" Her chin lifted defensively, and Logan suddenly wondered if she was trying to hide something else amid whatever baking was going on.
"Well, yeah, I know, Max, I just didn't think you were ..." He trailed, hearing himself sound as defensive as she looked. He relaxed then, refusing to invent more things to make things awkward between them. It's Christmas, Cale, he reminded himself. Peace on earth... "I'm sorry we interrupted your celebration," he said in soft sincerity. "I really don't want to throw off your plans..."
Max heard the change in his tone and realized he thought he was interrupting a private get together, maybe a civilized little gift exchange, instead of the crazy, messy, warm and wonderful-smelling evening they had going. He wouldn't understand that her consternation came from her nervousness that this cooking thing would work out right, and probably thought that her irritation was that her 'party' had been derailed. Her posture softened immediately from what she realized must have looked almost like a defensive stance, and her tone carried a rueful apology as she smiled slowly. "It's nothing like that." She looked at him in a less self-absorbed appraisal now, taking in his waiting expression, his reddened cheeks and mist-streaked glasses, his wet hair and clothes – and saw that he was trying to hide his shivers.
Why that made her feel a whole new wave of affection for him, she'd never understand...
"Please, Logan – come on upstairs," she tried, now as sincere as she'd ever been. "It's just ..." He'd certainly understand, given that he knew she wasn't all that adept in the kitchen. "Well, you'll see. C'mon in with me." She started to move in inside, but paused, turning back to him. "You don't have anywhere else you have to be now, do you, no downtrodden to rescue or bad guys to take out?"
He chuckled a little as he relaxed, another shiver shaking the sound. "Not tonight."
"Good. Then come on." She started walking back to her building with an air of confidence that he would come too. "Knowing Kendra, she probably has some guy's leftover clothes that would fit you, something dry."
Logan scrambled to follow along, his hands a bit stiff with the cold as he grabbed his wheel rims. He was still uncertain about what he'd find them doing; knowing he wasn't about to get out of his own clothes, he reflected that it would probably be smarter to just go on home. But it was Max, asking him up to her place, and he wouldn't pass up a chance to have a bit more of the evening with her – and to see what she was up to with her friends, to see further into what made her tick.
And as he followed her into the elevator, still magically working in good part due to her own efforts to keep the aging motor oiled and cleaned, the smile she gave him as she thanked him yet again, remembering all over again the Christmas present he'd just brought her and enthusiastically telling him how well they worked, left the damp and chilly night outside far behind ...
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Ten minutes after his arrival, Logan Cale found himself in Max's bedroom, his clothes stripped off, doing all he could to not think about Max sleeping there in the small bed for those few hours she needed on occasion. He put his wet, now foggy glasses on the small table in the corner and peeled off his soggy parka, socks and jeans. Even his shirt had gotten damp as the mist had turned to rain – but when Max had appeared, he barely noticed it. When he saw her delight with his gift, he'd forgotten the rain all together. When he'd come up to her place, he wouldn't have remembered the weather at all if Max's friends hadn't threatened to strip off his wet clothes themselves if he didn't change that very minute...
From the moment they'd gotten off the elevator, Logan could smell the heady, familiar smells of Christmas baking, of cinnamon and nutmeg, sugar and chocolate ... the scents became stronger the closer they got to Max's door, but he still couldn't believe it was the source until she opened the door and they were enveloped in the warm, welcoming aroma. "Celebration, huh?" Max teased, as she led him inside. "More like work detail."
Logan's eyes grew large as he took in the many rows of cookies out cooling on the makeshift work table in the living room, a board scrubbed down and covered with first a clean sheet, then with what looked like genuine butcher's paper. As he walked in, Kendra was spilling thick, amber liquid out across a battered, buttered metal pan, and he realized she was making peanut brittle. Original Cindy was stirring something on the stove top and grinned in guilty conspiracy to Logan. "Hey, Boo. I really didn't think she'd catch you down there, but the girl has radar when it comes to that bike."
He chuckled. "I should have realized that – but we were nearly done. Thanks, Cindy."
"You were in on it too?" Max turned to her friend in surprise.
"Well, yeah, Max, I figured you'd think the present was worth it." Cindy's grin never faltered.
"...but what is all this?" Logan interrupted the women, coming closer to see all they'd accomplished through the day, impressed that they'd even found red and green sugar for decoration and enough flour and sugar to make all the treats he saw. "This looks like Santa's kitchen – his pre-Pulse kitchen."
Max gave him a regretful look. "Yeah – Merry Christmas, Logan. It's bad enough it had to be a home-made Christmas from us – but you're seeing yours in the worse of things, still just a blob of parts."
Kendra watched the handsome man as he listened intently to Max, clearly trying to figure out what she was getting at, and explained, "Herbal needed an emergency operation, Logan, and the bastards at Harbor Lights demanded payment up front. These guys pooled all the money they had, even their Christmas money, and fronted his operation. So..." her raspy voice lifted in her usual cheer, and went on, "we pooled what money was left, and worked our contacts, and got some made-for-depression recipes – and everyone on our lists is getting a Christmas care package of girl-made goodies!"
Max turned back to Logan, her expression carrying her concern that it would be so much less than he deserved from her – especially now. "Nothing like new tires, huh?"
He glanced up at her to see her worry, and was surprised to see that it seemed to matter so much to her. "No, Max, this is terrific ... all of you," he looked around the room and was struck with how much these three had given for their friend, wondering vaguely what he would have to do to arrange with the hospital to get their money back... "to be there for Herbal. Is he okay?"
Original Cindy put down her spoon and turned from her pot on the stove, coming up to him with a suddenly stern look on her face. "Herbal is gonna be fine, Boo, and we'll tell you all about it as soon as you get out of them wet clothes. We outa hospital funds and can't cover for you if yo' scrawny self comes down with pneumonia sittin' here all wet. Kendra, you got some left-behinds for our boy to get into?"
As Kendra began her frank, appreciative assessment of him, sizing him up for her stash of men's clothing, Logan started his protest, "look, I'm fine; I can just leave and let you..."
"You shiverin' like it's 20 below! You get changed and have some of the hot cider Kendra whipped up." Original Cindy ordered. "Girl's got more skills than just Japanese and a wicked tongue, ya know."
Not wanting to speculate whether Original Cindy meant Kendra's way with words or ... other uses for her tongue, Logan started to shake his head again when Max spoke up.
"Please? If you got some weird respiratory thing just because you were out givin' me tires...." Logan saw that look in Max again, a concern for him that went beyond simply protecting her meal ticket, and wasn't some misplaced pity. As their eyes met and she saw he was relenting, Max smiled hopefully. "Maybe you can help direct the kitchen production here. You're the great chef..."
"Not with this stuff," he shrugged. "Not as much as these two are, obviously..."
"Here." Kendra had disappeared and now bounced up to him with a folded pile of clothes, still sweet-smelling with the laundry soap used on them. "Max's room is right there. Take everything off – and I mean everything. Don't make me come check..."
"'cause she will," Original Cindy helped.
"'cause I will," Kendra continued, as her friends' performance raised a blush of discomfort on Max's face. "You're not out here and dry in 10 minutes ... we're sending Max in to help."
Not missing the suggestive, teasing tone in Kendra's voice, Cindy's wide grin – and Max's sudden refusal to make eye contact, Logan knew he was outnumbered. "I'll be right back," he conceded, with a wry grimace. After all – he was cold and wet, the clothes were warm and dry ... and he had a chance to drink hot cider and watch Max Guevara baking....
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Kendra had managed to find a serviceable pair of grey sweatpants long enough even for his long legs, dry socks, and a surprisingly elegant wool sweater of a deep, dark navy. Back in Max's room, he shivered again, now not only damp but exposed, and he rubbed his hair briskly with the soft, worn towel Kendra had given him, then worked its way quickly over his clammy skin. What did Max say about a present for me, too? he wondered now as he pulled on the warm, blessedly dry clothing. Something she was baking? She definitely was helping them with it, even doing some of the cooking herself, and not just letting her more experienced friends do it all. What's more ... she seemed sort of nervous and awkward about me catching her at it, too...
Knowing Max, she was worried about getting it right. The thought made him smile ... and made him hurry into the clothes he'd been given. After all, he'd been invited to stick around and watch, and if it didn't make Max feel too awkward – he really would like to do just that.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Hearing the hallway door open, Kendra turned to see if she'd guessed right about the clothes she'd given Logan – and as she watched him come back into their living room, she stared appreciatively, noting the clothing fit and then some. The deepest, darkest navy of the sweater and its high, rolled collar made his eyes shimmer greener than she'd ever seen them, almost like summer grass...
Kendra blinked, then grinned in unabashed lust. "Wow – you really need to keep that sweater. I don't remember whose it was but it never looked that good on him, whoever he was."
Logan colored a little and smirked, glancing at Max to see if she had any reaction – to Kendra's words or, he dared to hope, to whatever Kendra seemed to see in him in the borrowed sweater. Max had looked up at him too and, as their eyes met, she smiled, but there was something else there too, and she quickly stepped around the counter where she'd been working and stood in front of him.
"Your present is back there. Let me have a little surprise left, okay? No peeking?"
He grinned, willing to give her anything. "Okay. No peeking." He looked across the room at all the goodies and dared, "and no tasting? As good as it smells in here, how are you managing to not eat everything you've made?"
"The cider helps – here." Original Cindy handed him a steaming mug. "And you can try one thing – rule is, 'til we see how much we get done and if we're gonna get all our gifts done, just one tester taste a piece."
Logan grinned. "Okay. Max?" He turned back to her, "any recommendations? What have you made?"
"She helped with everything," Kendra covered for her. Logan nodded once to Kendra, but looked back at Max, waiting.
Max felt an odd flicker of her nervousness return as she glanced to her earliest efforts, boxed and ready for distribution into the various gifts they'd package when everything else was done. They weren't that bad, she told herself, as she steeled herself to walk over to the side table. "I did these, all by myself."
With a smile of anticipation, Logan followed her over to peer into a big box – and was thrown back more than two decades when he saw it filled with treats he remembered from his childhood. "Max!" his smile of surprise lit his face.
She was stunned to see that Logan Cale, wealthy playboy who must have grown up on caviar and pate and only the best of everything, was actually pleased to see her efforts. She blinked in surprise, and started to explain, "these are..."
"Rice krispie treats; yeah, I know. And these are the peanut butter ones..." He pointed to the batch sitting side by side with the cereal-marshmallow bars. "I can't remember how long it's been since I've had either of these..."
"Help yourself," Max smiled, her relief evident in her voice. Unbeknownst to the pair, Kendra and Original Cindy, as one, looked over to Max and Logan as Logan admired Max's efforts, and Max actually blushed with a look of delighted success. Sharing a silent smirk, Original Cindy and Kendra turned back to their own Christmas preparations, each of them certain now that she would never believe a word of Max's protests that she and Logan 'weren't like that...'
"I don't know which one to try; they're both good..." Logan was looking from one batch of bars to the other, then lifted one of the original marshmallow treats to bite into it, appreciatively. "Ohhh, just what I remembered," he grinned as if he were a ten year old again, dipping into the holiday treats. "Great job, Max. Nice reminder of better days."
She smiled happily as Logan took another bite of her 'cooking,' and wore a pleased smile of his own. With barely a guilty glance toward her friends, Max lifted one of the peanut butter bars and handed it to him, too. "Merry Christmas, Logan," she whispered, as he took the extra bar from her.
"Merry Christmas, Max" he said softly. They wavered for several moments, lingering over her culinary efforts for another few moments, the magic of the gift-giving again catching them in its spell. Slowly again aware that they weren't alone, Logan grinned again, self-consciously now, and said, "I'm keeping you from your work. Can I do anything to help?"
Max blinked back to the present, also caught in the power of the moment. "Probably," she looked back at the other cooks – who pretended nothing unusual was going on. "You're a pretty good cook yourself."
"Then put me to work." He grinned, and moved to follow her as she went back toward the kitchen.
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Four hours later, as the baskets and boxes of Christmas cheer took the place of the cooling bars, candies, cookies and cakes, Logan glanced at his watch and was surprised to see how long he'd been working with the kitchen crew. Original Cindy was wiping down the counter and talking about heading home, stacking her deliveries at one end of the table near her coat. Kendra offered her a ride and got her own coat, ready to make a few late night deliveries to friends she knew would be leaving early the next morning.
Suddenly, after the evening of bumped elbows and production lines, of cooking and packaging and tying up parcels, Max and Logan were alone in the warm apartment. Max wiped the counter Cindy had already cleaned, again looking awkward now, suddenly not sure what to say. Logan spoke, hoping to ease her mood.
"So what do you think about all this Christmas baking? At least before the Pulse, it was a tradition in a lot of homes – family or friends cooking up big batches of Christmas cookies or candy, to give away." He said. "Cindy and Kendra seemed to enjoy it."
"I couldn't have done it without them – probably still can't." She didn't meet his eyes and busied herself with more unnecessary puttering. If this hadn't been Max, he might describe her demeanor as suddenly shy. Intrigued now, he watched her, even more closely.
"You made the Rice Krispie treats..." he tried.
"Yeah, with them directing," she said, vaguely, then seemed to pause a moment, finally moving to lift a square box, measuring maybe a foot on each side, and brought it over. The box – or, as he could see, the box lid – has been festively wrapped in silver wrapping paper and decorated with tiny clusters of holly berries and leaves. She placed it in front of him, slowly, not moving her eyes from the gift. "But this one .. " she chewed her lip, the shrugged. "All me."
"Max..." The sound of his voice led her to raise her eyes up to his, and she found he was smiling in touched delight. "This was what you were working on, over there?" She nodded, and he realized that over the past couple hours they'd kept him busy with the baskets and boxes – so he wouldn't see her finish his? His smile softened. "May I look now?"
She wavered, then nodded, and as he reached to lift off the lid, she suddenly reached out to touch his hand, wanting to explain. "It's ... it's not the usual..."
He cocked his head slightly, and spoke softly, "then it's perfect – 'cause neither are we."
She looked at the supportive smile, the intelligent green eyes sparkling even greener with the deep navy of his borrowed sweater – and relented, removing her hand. "Okay," she breathed.
...and he lifted the lid. "Wow," he said simply, and lifted out the cake. "It's beautiful, Max..."
"Not 'beautiful,' really..." She looked at round, marbled cake, glistening with the dusting of fine sugar crystals she'd given it. "It's an Angel Cake." At his questioning look, she smirked and went on, "and Original Cindy said to make sure to tell you that I know it's not Angel Food cake. It's an Angel Cake, from a recipe from the first Depression, a hundred years ago." She saw his expression shift with curiosity, and explained, "Cindy's sister kept it from their first Christmas, after the Pulse, back when food was so hard to come by. Cindy's mother had gone to a local bakery to try to get the family a nice Christmas dessert, but everything was just too much – an' eggs and sugar alone cost a month's house payment – but she saw some stale angel food cakes that the baker was gonna just toss, so she talked him into letting her take one home. On the way home she remembered seeing an old, old recipe ... so made one more stop at the market along the way. And when she got home, and got Cindy and her sisters to bed, she took out the cake – and tore it up in small pieces. She took out the few candy bars she could buy with the little money she had left, ones with real chocolate and nuts and caramel, and she chopped them up and mixed them in ... she mixed sweetened milk with eggs and mixed it all into a whole new cake... made special, for her family..."
Max finally looked up at Logan, obviously touched with the story. "She made it every year after that too. Every year, when times were better, more went into the cake, more chocolate, more nuts, sometimes fruit or more candies, sometimes ribbons of caramel or chocolate or mint were stirred in. But it was always meant as a reminder that no matter how little she might have to offer, she wanted them to know that they ..." Max hesitated. "She needed to show them ... that she would give them all she had, any time they needed it..." She was silent for the moment, then finally looked back at him, unwavering. "Me, too."
The reaction was all in his eyes, not his face, but Max could see that he understood. And instead of being thrown by her words, instead of being freaked out that a test tube, lab rat was trying to tell him he was an important part of her life – he seemed surprised – and touched. And pleased. Mostly pleased. She relaxed into a smile.
"It really is beautiful, Max. Especially because you made it..." At her smile, he shrugged, "want to try some?" She hesitated, and he urged, "it's more than enough to share."
"It should be for your Christmas dinner," she smiled.
"Then come to my place for Christmas dinner," he countered smoothly.
"I thought you were going to your aunt and uncle's," her smile quirked up at the corner. "You're not going for dinner with your family?"
He looked at her with a growing hope, and said , "nah. Unless ... you want to come with me."
She laughed. "To your family's Christmas dinner?"
"Sure. Or to my place, and we'll make a Christmas dinner, just for us. But either way – come share it with me. Your cake – and Christmas."
She looked at the man who had come to mean so much to her, and at that moment trusted him enough to agree to anything he had in mind. "Okay," she nodded, the idea of having Christmas plans suddenly warming her, and shrugged, "do I get to know which dinner we'll be having?"
"It's Christmas, Max – why not both?" At her beam of delight, he reached back in the box to pull out one of the cookies also nestled inside. Holding it out for her, he grinned as widely when she leaned over to take a bite, as he held it for her. "Merry Christmas..."
She grinned, and as she chewed, she reached in for another cookie to hold it out to him, as he had to her. "Merry Christmas, Logan." She watched with a new, hopeful excitement as he slowly leaned toward her and, eyes twinkling, slowly took a bite... "why not both?"
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Best wishes for very happy holidays, everyone!
~S~