He's paced up and down the main street of this town for maybe, like, the fifth time?
Everything's still decorated to fit the constant monster-craze these people have, but with a kind of cool/weird holiday twist. The little cutout bats in the windows wear little scarves, there's mistletoe hanging in the spiderwebs over the doors, Christmas trees had the occasional eyeball ornaments, and he even saw one roof with the decoration of Santa and his reindeer, except the reindeer were all skeletons, and Santa himself looked kind of boney.
Once this place got wind that they really were in the vicinity of an actual monster hotel, Halloween seemed to stick around longer.
You'd think shopping around here would be a good place to find the perfect gift for one particular monster, but Johnny was sure Mavis wouldn't like the usual cutesy tourist stuff they sold around here. He might buy her that 'Bite Me' coffee mug he saw earlier for her next birthday. Or maybe an anniversary? She might laugh at the fang-themed font. She did drink coffee, right? Would a mug be too cheap for an anniversary gift?
His cheeks flushed redder, from more than just the cold. He had to make sure he survived their First Christmas before thinking that far ahead.
Drac had been no help whatsoever. Okay, well maybe almost.
. . .
"Johnny, my boy, you know I've been fully supportive of you and my daughter's relationship—"
"Er..."
"—and the best way to start off a good relationship is to make an earnest personal effort, that's the best gift. In other words, I want to see what you come up with."
"You're not gonna help me, are you?"
"Nope."
"You still don't like me, do you?"
"Oh, I like you, Jonathan, that is why I'm letting you choose a gift for her by yourself. You know, instead of me intentionally sabotaging any chance you may have with false, stupid present suggestions - suggestions that will absolutely humiliate you in front of her for the rest of your short little life, and thereby ruin any future relationship expectations. So, no, I'm not going to help you, that is my early Christmas present for you."
"Um, thanks?"
"You're welcome. However, while I cannot give you any suggestions, you can ask me questions, and I might feel like answering."
"Oh, cool. Well, then, um, what's her favorite color?"
". . . You're kidding me, right?"
Johnny shrugged, Dracula face-palmed.
"I was going to pull that 'ask me but I won't actually answer' schtick, but good grief, maybe you do need help. Black goes with everything, start with that."
"You sure? I wondered, but that's not, like, racist or anything?"
"Kid, we're vampires, it's just a thing, trust me on this."
"Well, alright then, then what about also—?"
"No, nope, gonna cut you off there, you're fending for yourself, starting now."
"But you - she - oh, fine. Thanks for the info, anyway."
"Don't mention it. One last piece of advice for you though, or maybe it's more of, eh, a heads up?"
"Sure, what?"
Dracula's smile was the epitome of geniality, "Don't worry too much about what you're going to give her. No matter what you do or how hard you try, she's going to like my gift the best. Because mine will be better than yours. So, you know, no pressure. Ciao!"
Johnny had been left slack-jawed as the old bat flew away.
"W-well, well that's what you think, you—" he shook his fist at the sky, "I'll think of a good name to call you later! And thanks for the 'advice'!"
. . .
So here he was, the day before Christmas, with nothing to show for it.
And it's not like he hadn't asked for anybody else, Frank and Murray's ideas were pretty alright while Griffin's was just, well, weird. He wasn't going to think about Griffin's idea. And he'd been bombarded with gift ideas from a ton of other guests, monster and human alike. Anyway, it's not like anyone was unhelpful, maybe aside from Drac, but Johnny wanted to give Mavis something . . . cool. Something unique, something personal that she could see and smile at and think of him. But anytime he thought about what she might like, he spent time thinking about her, and his brain just, well, locked up, stuck on a Mavis-loop, a nice but making-him-useless loop. Then his thoughts went back to 'running out of time, running out of time' and it was back to the panic.
He thought he was pretty good at gift-giving, or at least making people happy. He could do music, so maybe he could write her a song?
But maybe that's too cheap?
They'd gotten to travel a bit before visiting back here for Christmas. There could've been loads of things she'd smiled at earlier that he could've gotten for her as a gift, some sort of souvenir, or something cute and, well, romantic?
But maybe that'd be too cheesy?
He'd taken a few cool pictures of her, too, and thought about framing them, but that might be creepy or back to the 'cheap' problem.
And he was sure Drac would hate him if he tried getting her some sort of pet. Plus he wasn't sure if they'd accidentally eat whatever small animal he brought.
He was stuck.
So it became the day of Christmas, and Johnny was a sweaty, shaky wreck, clutching his guitar like a life-raft as he played Christmas music covers with the band for the hotel audience. Fortunately his nerves didn't show in his music, but the guys clearly knew something was up.
Mavis was in the crowd, singing and dancing along, and he nervously avoided her eyes. Dracula looked entirely too smug.
Johnny had tons of things in his backpack, and was rummaging through them desperately during a break from the music while hiding in a storage closet, a reel of tape stuck in his pocket and a roll of wrapping paper clenched in his teeth, ready for whatever last minute gift-wrapping he could do. He loved his backpack, but currently felt as if all that he had in it was crap, crap, crap!
"Hey, Johnny, you okay?"
His shriek was muffled through the paper, it crackled and nearly shredded between his teeth.
Crap.
"Yef!" he said hurriedly, shoving his backpack behind his back.
Then he blinked when he saw that he was alone.
"Mafis?"
The door was open wide, and a small box sat on the floor, the size of his fist, yellow wrapping with cute little bow of orange ribbon.
He blinked again, eyes darting nervously from side to side. He spat out the wrapping paper from his mouth.
"U-um, Mavis?"
He crept hesitantly towards the little present, reaching a slow hand out towards it. He caught the writing on the tag, To: Johnny, before it suddenly hopped just out of his reach. He yelped and fell back, startled by the possessed present. Is there a ghost in the Christmas present?
Was this some sort of weird monster thing he didn't know about?
Well, he's seen weirder. And the tag did say it was for him.
Tensing and crawling forward carefully, tongue between his teeth, he reached for it again, only for it to hop just far enough to throw him off.
"Hey!" he protested, and then outright leaped for it, only to crash into the opposite wall of the hall.
It hopped back to the awkward pile that was Johnny, and did a little wiggle dance of victory right next to his ear.
Okay, now it was just being mean.
"That's it." he grumbled, swatting at it, it dodged, and the chase was on.
Up and down the hotel halls, to choruses of 'Do Not Disturbs' and 'Merry Christmases', leaping over floating tables and clambering up Christmas trees. Sliding down long stair railings and clambering up window draperies. Dodging many monsters' feet, and one very irate lady skeleton's hand, and the chase soon took him outside the hotel, where he found himself clutching the outer wall, keeping his balance on a jutting stone windowsill. He thinks he's finally cornered it on a decorative precipice.
"You . . . got nowhere to go now . . . !" he panted, raising his voice to be heard over the snowy wind. He looked down, and briefly thought maybe he didn't either.
The present gave another wiggle, and then opened its lid to flick a strip of green ribbon at him, and Johnny realized it was sticking out its 'tongue'.
"Oh, you little—!"
His teeth chattered in the cold. In a fit of poor decision-making he lunged, and finally closed his hands around the surprisingly solid little box.
"Ah-hah!" he shouted triumphantly.
Then he looked down, hovering briefly in the air.
"Ah."
Then gravity kicked in, his legs flailing wildly.
"AAAAH!"
And then gravity kicked up.
Somehow he was being dragged up through the air by the present in his hands, the shriek caught in his throat as he went up, and up, and up, until he was dangling by the edge of the roof, feet dangling while he was desperately hanging on to the little box.
He turned gently in the breeze, swallowing when he realized who was sitting on the edge of the roof, blue eyes glittering with amusement.
Mavis smiled a bright little smile at him, wrapped up in a neat little scarf. She kicked her legs gently from the roof's edge, holding up a fishing pole in her hands, glowing slightly with her magic, from the pole to the nearly invisible line tied to the gift in his hands.
"Gotcha."
"You got me." he admitted, relief coursing through his veins, now entirely unafraid to be dangling hundreds of feet off the ground, because she was holding him up. "Um, Merry Christmas, Mavis."
"Merry Christmas, Johnny." She tilted her head and frowned at him, "You've been avoiding me all week."
"M'sorry." he mumbled sheepishly, managing to shrug even with his arms stretched above him.
"Was . . . was it something I did?"
"No, no, nuh-uh," his protest was quick, shaking his head hard enough that he spun gently on her fishing line. "It's, um, it's, uh..."
He hung his head in shame, but he was there and she was there and it all just spilled out. "Okay, I have no idea what to give you. I've been stressing and, yeah, avoiding you was kinda dumb, because, I just wanted to, you know, give you something awesome and cool because I think you're awesome and cool and—"
"Oh, Johnny..."
"—I kinda wanted to show Drac up a little, sure—"
"Johnny?"
"—but I'm realizing I'm actually really, really bad at this whole gift-giving thing and it's making me feel even more guilty so I was avoiding you even more and—"
"Heh, Johnny?"
"—and I'm just a real lousy—"
"Johnny."
He shut up as she reeled him in closer. Her eyes were bright and her smile was sweet.
"You've already given me something," she told him, and he blinked, confused.
"Er, what did I give you?"
She tugged him in close enough to place a warm little kiss on his forehead.
"You."
His blush was even warmer, enough that snowflakes steamed off of his skin.
"Plus, uh, there is a little something you could give me right now." she suggested, grinning a little at his reaction.
He blinked dumbly for a few seconds, "S-sure, what?"
She gestured upward with her eyes, as she pulled him to sit on the roof. Her smile widened when he looked up, and he had the goofiest one to match on his face.
She had tied whole bunches of mistletoe to the end of the fishing pole.
. . .
"Really, though, I want to give you something cool," he protested later, after they were inside and warmed up, she put a mug of hot cocoa in his hands.
"You're already cool," she assured him, draping a blanket on his shoulders, feeling a little guilty. "In fact, too cool. Drink up." She'd meant it all in good fun, but she felt embarrassed for forgetting how sensitive humans were to the cold. His cheeks were flushed from the chill, and his hands were shaking a little, but he was already looking better, and his eyes were still lively and bright, a pleased smile still tacked to his face like it was stuck there. It had been a lot of mistletoe.
"Something, I dunno, something you can look at, smile at?"
"Your face works well enough for me," she decided with a grin, a snap of her fingers started a cheery fire in the fireplace, that she urged him to sit near.
"I mean something interesting."
"You are interesting."
"Mavis, I mean it, I'm lame at this." His face fell a little, even as the light of the fire warmed it.
"No, you're not," Mavis sat next to him, shifting a little closer, her 'bait' gift resting in her hand. She put an arm around his shoulder, offering him the box.
He looked guiltily from it to her, before setting his mug down. He was about to reach to take it before he hesitated.
"It's not gonna bite me, right?"
She shook her head, laughing, "No, it's just a present."
"I still feel bad, Mavis."
"Just open it, trust me."
He sighed, and did, and blinked at what was inside. It was just a photograph, he took it out and looked at it, squinting, before he recognized it.
"Oh."
There were no people in it, it was rather just a pretty scenery picture of a sunrise.
It was the sunrise seen from the hotel roof, taken from the safety of the shadow from one of the chimneys.
'For my Zing' was written on the back.
"I had to make it quick, so it might be a little blurry," Mavis admitted as he looked at it, "I tried a few days to get it right."
"Why'd you do that?" he asked, surprised.
"Hey, I was panicking, too." she confessed to him. "I mean, you got all this cool stuff about you that I don't even know about yet, and music, stories, friends, and I only got to see a bit of it. But traveling with you has been amazing, and I'm looking forward to more of it. But this," she tapped the picture in his hand. "This is something you showed me, the first special thing out there that I'd seen with you, something special to the both of us. A picture might be lame, yeah, but it's of something that belongs to you and me, right?" She bit her lip. "I mean, at least that's what I was thinking, but," Then it was her turn to hide her face in her hands, "Ugh, I had a whole cool speech I wanted to give about it, but a picture really is so lame."
"No, this is cool."
She peeked from her fingers.
"You're just playing with me."
"No really, this is cool," he told her, smiling at the photo. The smile was still strained, "I'm out of ideas, heck, out of time. What can I give you?"
She stared at him, and he was reminded uncomfortably of her dad for a moment.
". . . You're kidding me, right?"
He shifted nervously, feeling like he missed something. "Um."
She snorted, fortunately seeming more amused than annoyed, "I already told you. You gave me you." she said simply, then gestured to the photo in his hand, "You gave me that. You've given me time with you, and so many wonderful things and adventures and-and feelings, Johnny, every day I spend with you is a gift given to me." She was embarrassed, "Every freaking day is Christmas with you."
He was dumbstruck. His smile was so wide she had to blush.
He suddenly glanced at the top of her head, "There's something in your hair." he pointed out.
"What?" She stared, taken aback, but tried to feel for it. "What is it?"
"This." He suddenly stuck a sprig of mistletoe in her hair that he'd managed to save from earlier.
The fire was forgotten and gradually died down, the cocoa will have long gone cold, but they happily won't notice.
The next day, he'd give her a photograph, one of a bunch of mistletoe.
She'd love it, and hold it over his head whenever she had the chance.
. . .
A gift that can be given does not always have to come in a box.
There is pride and care in wrapping a gift, yes, and there is joy in seeing the thing unwrapped, in seeing the delight in another's eyes when they receive it. But there are some things that are too precious to buy from shelves, too big to be put into boxes, that wrapping cannot contain and that money cannot buy.
May you all receive and cherish such a gift, and treat it well. God bless all, and Merry Christmas.
This story, in turn, is dedicated as a gift for someone who is a beloved gift themselves. I hope they don't mind the wrapping.
Keep well, and thank you as always for reading.
Sincerely, the hatchling