My now not-so-Secret Santa!
Okay, so technically it IS almost Christmas Eve for you guys. It's just, like... a few hours away from Christmas Eve in America, right? O.o I live in Australia, okay?!
Yes yes yes. It's Graire, massive surprise coming from me. I guess I just know how much DoubleKK loves it normally, and I hope she likes this one, too, because I have to say that I like it. XD
I don't know what genre I'd stick this baby in. I guess it's got a little bit of angst, possibly, but awkward Gray in social situations makes me giggle. Shall we just call it romance?? I swear, we need a separate 'Christmas' genre. Or maybe a 'Fluff' genre. Or maybe I should quit it with the rambling Author's Notes.
The background story thrown in there because it's... well, half the point of the story, and Gray's past is my total favorite to invent, and because angsty, bad-boy Gray is just TOO smexy to pass up ;)
Enjoy, KK!
Picking Up The Pieces
--
I hate Christmas.
I remember the unfathomable excitement I felt when I was seven years old. I remember the sleepless, anxious night of Christmas eve, doing the mental checklists comparing when I'd been bad that year to when I'd been good that year – wondering which famous naughty or nice list of Santa's I was on; which list my little sister was on. Somehow finding a few hours of eventual sleep, but still managing to wake up at some unearthly hour of the morning to find a five-year-old Rose sitting on the end of my bed, knees tucked up to her chin.
"Can we open presents now?" she'd lisped, her big blue eyes sparkling. Crawling out of bed in my baggy pajamas, leading her down the hallway to my parent's door and knocking on it loudly. The impatient, sleepy groans from inside; mutters of, 'I swear I've had five minutes rest,' before my bleary-eyed father threw open the door and Mom followed close behind, clutching her video camera in two weary hands.
The sight of the Christmas tree, sparkling with a thousand colored lights and topped with an angel; not a traditional star. It was the presents under the tree that grabbed my attention of course – beautifully wrapped packages – a waste, considering how quickly and thoughtlessly the paper would be torn apart by an eager child's hands. Breathless wonder throughout the alternating process of present opening – Rose, Gray, Rose, Gray, Rose, Gray – the quiet disappointment at a gift I had no interest in, compared to the thrilled exclamations when I opened one that I'd really, really wanted.
Refusing to eat the Christmas lunch that my mother had slaved over – more interested in playing with my new toy cars, while Rose brushed the hair of her new Barbie and unsuccessfully begged me to trade my perfect chocolate bar for her slightly melted one, only getting what she wanted when I conned her younger mind into giving me a packet of lollies, too.
I remember being ten years old; when Mom finally got sick of cooking a dinner that me and my sister wouldn't eat, and started taking us to Christmas family gatherings at her mother's house instead. Going to play football at the park with my older cousins and leaving 'baby' Rose behind to sulk in my mother's lap – though she was only two years younger, and in perspective, my cousins probably didn't love the fact that they had me tagging along either.
Sitting in Grandma's shabby living area after stuffing ourselves with turkey and ham – the tiny space full of uncles with strong aftershave and aunts who left unwanted lipstick marks on my cheek as they handed me books and movies that even Rose was too mature for. Dad almost asleep in the corner, cheesy holiday specials playing on the miniature television, and the entire room wearing tissue-paper crowns out of fifty cent Christmas crackers.
A long car ride home; my sister whining as I tugged annoyingly on her hair, hiding my hands innocently behind my back whenever Mom turned around – not noticing as Dad's grip tightened on the steering wheel and his jaw set into a firm line. Begging – my mother begging us to be quiet, just for a few minutes. Begging us to stop fighting. Begging us not to ruin Christmas for us all, this year.
And then... I remember being sixteen – a boy with a bad attitude that I guess I'm yet to grow out of. I didn't want to go to my Grandma's that year – 'It could be her last Christmas, Gray,' my mom had pleaded. She couldn't change my mind – I didn't care about presents this year; didn't see any joy in spending the day playing football with my cousins... couldn't think of anything worse than being stuck in that depressing house with my extended family for another damn day. I had an invitation to a party, from a guy at school that I'd never even spoken to – so much more tempting than spending Christmas day with my family; am I right? I wore my mother down. The only thing she asked as I walked out the door was that I behaved myself, and of course, I rolled my eyes and said I would.
Alcohol. It's a strange thing – that a simple drink can change your behavior; make you lose all sense of decorum and responsibility even when you hadn't had all that much to spare in the first place. It had seemed like a good idea that night, hadn't it? And I remember all too clearly how we'd laughed, clutching our sides just to stop ourselves from falling to the ground in hysterics as we lobbed that trash can through the next door neighbor's window. I mean, they'd called the cops on the party, saying that we were getting too 'loud' – they deserved it. We would've smashed a couple more windows, too, if we'd got the chance. But we didn't.
A ride home in a police car. Still laughing, still answering back as the policemen asked my mates and I where we lived. But when I was the last one left in the car; after I'd seen my friends dragged inside by crying, yelling parents... now that I was sobering up, well, suddenly it didn't seem so funny anymore.
When Mom answered the front door, her dressing gown pulled securely around her as she took in the sight of her son, a policeman standing on either side of him... judging by the look on her face, that moment hurt her more than anything else I'd done in my selfish young life. And then my dad came downstairs, took a glance at me – and he said one, simple sentence. Not to me, to my mother.
"I think it's gone far enough."
She nodded silently, thanking the police for bringing me home, and in a voice so cold – asked me to sit on the couch while my dad headed for the phone.
Seventeen years old, Christmas Day. Past the point of exhaustion as I lifted my heavy hammer once again, bringing it to crash down in an attempt to shape the metal in front of me. Far, far away from home – well, no, I guess this was my home now. Dad had shipped me off to live with Gramps in the boonies where I couldn't, as he put it, cause them any more heartbreak. I hadn't spoken to my parents or my sister since I came to Mineral Town one year previous. Oh yes, they celebrated Christmas in this place – it was just that Gramps didn't celebrate it. Blacksmithing was a job for the whole year around, according to him. I don't know. Maybe he just wanted to keep his 'reckless' grandson out of decent society.
So now, at age twenty-four, my emotions about Christmas kind of match my name. I guess I'm the Grinch or something, but whatever – I'll think what I want about the stupid day. I have that right, if nothing else.
--
"Huh," My grandfather said slowly, turning the bracelet that I'd spent weeks slaving away on over and over in his rough hands. His eyebrows knitted together as he scrutinized it – I was just waiting for him to throw it down and make an insulting remark about the finish, the materials, or the general make of it. Amazingly, he did nothing of the sort – a reluctant grin, of all things, crept onto his face. "You're improving."
Startled, I blurted out a simple "What?" in disbelief. He smirked, handing the bracelet back to me and turning away towards the furnace.
"I said you're improving. That... it's not half bad. Of course, I wouldn't sell it, but... you're getting there slowly." It was probably the biggest compliment that had left the stubborn old man's lips, and I was certainly more than a little shocked to hear it. "It's Christmas in a week," he added as a random afterthought, making me grit my teeth.
"Yeah, I know," I growled defensively. "So what?"
"That, uh... Claire. She's having an early Christmas party tomorrow... came by this morning, while you were at the mines, and asked me to tell you... you were invited."
"But you're not gonna let me go, right?" I asked through gritted teeth, swinging my hammer and making satisfying contact with the solid metal I was now supposed to be shaping. I refused to let my thoughts wander in the direction of the petite blonde; distractions like that while I was working never ended well. "I don't get why you're telling me, when you're only going to say that I have to work or something like that." He stayed silent and I snorted, lifting the hammer again.
Claire. I was surprised that she'd even spared a thought about inviting me, to be completely honest. She'd shown up here in Mineral Town almost a year ago, to farm on the abandoned ranch just south of this shop, and at first, she'd made a pretty decent effort to get to know me. It wasn't that I didn't want to get to know her as well – just that every time she asked me if I wanted to go out somewhere... well, Gramps would insist that I had to work. After awhile, she... just stopped trying. Yet here I was, with an invitation to her Christmas party.
Not that it meant anything. Claire was a friendly girl; she must have invited everyone and thought I'd be offended if she left me out. While she may, for completely unfathomable reasons, have had a tiny crush on me when she first came – it was more than impossible to assume that the feelings still stood. I guess that even if I had been able to go out when she'd asked, my personality would have driven her away eventually. I definitely hadn't ever met a girl who could deal with me.
Damn it, I was going to be no good at my work now that I'd heard this – and Gramps should have known that. That man knew everything about me whether I wanted him to or not. You might be surprised that something as trivial as some girl would be this important to me – well, generally I'd say you were right. It's just... this one girl is a little different to the rest of them.
Can't say exactly what was different about Claire. Sure, she was pretty – but no prettier than Mary or Ann. She worked hard and had a nice sense of humor, but again, that's nothing the other girls in town didn't have.
I guess she was just the kind of person that drew you to her. Corny as it sounds, I can't think of a better way to describe it – she's just... like the sun or something. She radiates warmth, and you want to be near her as much as you can. Claire... had made the effort to be close to me, even though I'd done nothing but push her away. She just had a gorgeous personality – I suppose that's the simplest way to describe it.
And unfortunately, I was far from the only guy in town who felt that way. More unfortunately, I was the last guy in town that deserved her.
"You know," my grandfather said suddenly, snapping me out of my reverie, "You've been working... exceptionally hard this past year. If you wanted to take tomorrow off and go to the party, I don't think it'd hurt your work too badly. 'Course, you'd have to work extra hard the next day; you've got to keep up if you ever expect to –" I tuned his familiar speech out, focussing on his first, far from familiar words. Was that some kind of... sick joke? Or was he really, seriously, actually considering giving me a day off?
"Are you kidding?" I asked incredulously, making him laugh. I saw nothing remotely funny about it.
"I'm serious. Don't look so surprised – I'm not that bad, am I?" Another incredulous glance answered his question, and he glared at me. "Look, if you don't want to go, just say so..."
Did I want to go? I wasn't... wasn't good in social situations, now. I'd been out of practice for a good number of years obviously; besides, even before my 'incident' I'd never been a huge bundle of laughs. And Claire... wasn't someone I wanted to be making an idiot of myself in front of ever, let alone at her party. It was probably safer if I just stayed with Gramps – besides, what could I possibly expect to happen at the party? The most likely option was watching more than reluctantly as Claire kissed some guy under the mistletoe –
Mistletoe. Huh. There's an idea...
"Alright, stay here then," Gramps growled, annoyed with my silence. "Thought that maybe you'd appreciate it..."
"I'll go," I said quickly. Once he'd actually said it, the idea of missing out was much worse than the idea of looking like an idiot. I'd brave the stupid party; put up with sickening Christmas cheer just once more in my life, then do nothing but work for the rest of it. It was an absolutely thrilling prospect.
"Good. You'll enjoy yourself. But if you screw up, boy," he tacked on threateningly, "You'll be sorry. You've shown me that you know how to be a gentleman when you're absolutely forced into it – so just... force yourself into it, tomorrow night."
--
Maybe I should have put a little more effort into this, I thought silently as I stared at myself in the mirror. Basically, I hadn't changed a thing about my appearance for this party. A quick shower when I got to the inn from work, then straight back into my ordinary clothes. Maybe even the effort to brush my hair wouldn't have gone astray... then again, it was for the most part hidden under my usual cap; the letters UMA printed across it in large font.
Heck, I really didn't think this was the kind of thing you were meant to wear to one of these parties. I couldn't even ask Cliff... my good-for-nothing roommate had left with Ann to help Claire set up before I had even finished up at work. But I decided to stay in the clothes I had on for three reasons – first, frankly I couldn't be bothered changing out of what I had on – second, I don't think I even owned any formal clothes – and third, I think I'd feel worse if I looked too formal than if I looked too casual.
And crap, I was late. How was that even possible?! 'Late' happened when girls spent hours and hours primping and shining and making themselves up. 'Late' should definitely not happen after the amount of effort I'd put in.
Of course, standing there wondering how on earth I'd managed to be late was doing nothing productive; just making me a whole lot later.
It wasn't a long walk from the inn to Claire's farm – then again, it wasn't the shortest distance either. But tonight... with my heart beating somewhere in my throat, and my head yelling at me to turn around now, not to throw myself into another reckless social situation... tonight the distance seemed shorter than ever before, and I swear it was a matter of seconds before I was standing at the gate to her farm.
She'd certainly gone all out on the decorations, which made me even more nervous about my choice of clothes. The house was glittering with Christmas lights; same with the animal buildings and every tree on the property. I caught a glimpse of someone through one of the farmhouse's small windows, approaching the front door, before Karen pushed it open and dragged Rick out by the hand.
Dammit. Yeah, I knew it – I was definitely not dressed right. Karen was wearing a white top, green vest and red miniskirt, going all out Christmas and topping it off with a red Santa hat on her brown hair. I mean come on, the miniskirt had to be too much. Not that the girl didn't have the legs for it, but... in the middle of winter? And Rick – in a good pair of jeans and white shirt, obviously conned into also wearing a Santa hat. He may not have gone as far for the occasion as his girlfriend had, but next to me... ugh. Maybe I should just go...
I actually turned to leave, blushing a deep red with the idea of walking in to the party; complete odd one out. But my intentions were destroyed – as usual – with the mortifying sound of Claire's cheerful voice, calling out my name in what I could only interpret as amusement. "You're not leaving so soon?"
Reluctant and wincing at the same time, I turned to face her. "Um... yeah, actually. I have... something to..." I trailed off, my brow furrowing in confusion. No Christmas themed colors – sadly, no miniskirt – she was dressed in her everyday overalls and with the way my heart leapt at that, I had to physically restrain myself from kissing her. "You're not dressed up?"
"Neither are you," she laughed, Little-Miss-State-the-Obvious. "Thank God for that... I didn't even realise that they'd all put in so much effort." She shrugged. "People really got into the Christmas spirit, I guess. Just wish I'd realised before I answered the door to Ann and Cliff, wearing these." She gestured to her worn denim overalls with an amused grin. "You're not really leaving, are you? I'll feel like a right idiot if I have to spend the rest of the night by myself."
"No," I jumped in immediately. "No, I'm... I'm not going anywhere." The brilliant smile that flashed across her face froze me for a second – I hadn't caused that, had I? Since when had I ever made anyone happy?
"Come in," Claire insisted, leaning against the door patiently. "We'll freeze to death if we stand out here for much longer." I followed her silently and she closed the door, walking into the center of the room. "Do you want a drink or anything?"
"I'm fine," I replied awkwardly. Now I was really remembering why I hated this kind of thing – I remember parties throughout my earlier teenage years. There were these little groups, and if you didn't know for certain which one you belonged in, you were cursed to spend the rest of the night sort of... hovering between them, trying not to look like a complete loner and deep down, wishing you were anywhere else in the world. Or maybe that was just me. But I could see Ann and Popuri chatting animatedly to Cliff, who honestly didn't look like he was getting all that much say in the conversation – then the doctor having a serious discussion with Mary while Elli kind of just... gazed at him. Rick and Karen had gone out somewhere, and I didn't even want to know what was going on between them – so basically, I had the choice of listening quietly to one of the two main conversations while trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. God, why had I come?
Oh yeah. Claire. Speaking of which, I'd probably join in whichever conversation she was at – I guess she'd make an effort to include me, even if it was out of basic pity. But right now I couldn't see her either – at least I knew she wasn't off with some guy somewhere; I could keep my tabs on all of them this way.
"I'm really glad you came," the blonde's voice said from behind me, nearly giving me a heart attack. Claire either didn't notice the way her words had made me jump, or she didn't care. "I... I mean, I like everyone here, but it kind of... felt like I was tagging along with their conversations. We can spend the night being antisocial together – I'm some great hostess, huh?" She walked over to the couch and sat down, leaving a large space next to her – I could only assume she wanted me to follow her, and I quickly complied, staring at my hands as if they were the most fascinating things on this earth. Just why I was staring at my hands when a beautiful girl was sitting next to me, I couldn't tell you. I don't know. I blame stupid Christmas.
"I haven't seen you much, lately," Claire said, a welcome interruption to my thoughts. "You... you must be working hard at the forge, right? I wish I had that kind of motivation. It's been close to a year on the farm, and I don't have it anywhere near the standard I'd like it to be at! I don't think crops are my forte. Then again, I don't think I have much of a talent with animals either, so –" Goddess, the girl could talk. I watched her carefully, a corner of my mouth pulling up into a half-smile through no fault or will of my own as she rambled on animatedly. I... couldn't believe she was going to all this trouble to make me feel welcome, to tell you the truth – because I knew that was what it was, no matter what she'd said about 'tagging along' with the others – she could get along with any person in this world, with her personality. I refused to believe that she'd rather be with me than with any of her other friends. She must have realised that I wasn't really comfortable here with anyone... but her. Which was kind of embarrassing.
More embarrassing was the fact that she'd stopped talking a long time ago, and was now looking at me with a curious expression on her face. When I finally reacted with a short apology, she blushed and glanced down at her workboots. "Don't worry about it. I guess I was boring you."
I raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "No, you weren't." I received a timid smile in reply.
"Thanks, Gray. I'll... I'll stop talking about myself. How is your work going? To work so hard, every day – you must really love it."
"It's okay," I coughed after a pause. "I... I wouldn't say I love it. It helps my grandfather, and... I guess I'm just stuck here until I get the money together to leave."
"You want to leave one day?" It was no doubt wishful thinking on my part, but I could swear that was disappointment on her face.
"... Don't you?"
"Well... not really," she confessed, biting her lip and swinging her legs up onto the couch, crossing them in front of her so she could talk to me without turning her head. "I guess a peaceful life is better for me. It might be different for you; I don't know... you seemed like the type who would appreciate life out here. I guess maybe I was wrong."
"I – well, no, wait – I didn't say I don't like it here," I stuttered – even though I kind of had said those words exactly, but the look on her face was making me wish I'd just kept my damn mouth shut. "Mineral Town's not bad, I – guess I just... haven't really made many relationships here." I groaned. "That sounds stupid –"
"Trust me, it doesn't sound stupid at all," she said seriously. Her blue eyes were more intense than usual – I'd never had anyone look at me so closely in my life, and it was disturbingly confronting but exhilarating at the same time. All this from just one girl...
"Whatcha talking about?" Ann asked, popping up suddenly and squeezing in the small space between Claire and I. I scowled at her, but it went pitifully unnoticed as Popuri bounced over as well, and Cliff shyly followed. Before I knew what had happened, Claire had been separated from me by a barrage of loud and meaningless – in my eyes, at least – conversation. She was smiling again, laughing as she shook her head at something Ann had commented on and apparently more than happy to talk to them. It was good, that I didn't have to feel guilty about monopolizing her attention anymore.
And then... my much more dominant, selfish side was throwing a silent hissy fit. I tried to hide it, I did, but it's not like I would have brought much to the party even without my private conversation with Claire being interrupted... and now, I kind of just... sat there while everyone around me talked. This was the kind of party I knew and... didn't love.
I felt Claire's gaze on me a few times, but it took me a long time to respond to it. She hadn't been talking for awhile and the others didn't seem to be particularly missing her input – then again, Ann could probably talk to a rock for hours and not realise it wasn't replying. When I eventually glanced up, it was to meet Claire's concerned expression – which made me wince – but then she inclined her head towards the front door, and I physically felt my heart speed up. She quietly moved, swinging her legs over the side of the couch and pushing her way to the door – and once again, I followed.
She grinned at me once we were standing outside, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the side of the house. "You looked uncomfortable in there."
"You looked happy enough,"
"Not really." She crossed both arms over her chest and blinked out at the garden thoughtfully, biting her lip again. "Ann got a little over-excited out here. I gave her the decorating job."
I turned around again, smirking automatically. It had started to snow, so the trees and buildings were blurs but the pinpoints of colored Christmas lights remained as bright as ever. It really was beautiful. You know, if you liked that sort of thing.
I think the saddest part of this whole situation was that I'd probably never had a better friend than this girl. This girl who was only nice to me, because... well, she was nice to everyone. I was nothing special to her, but Goddess, she was the best friend I had and... much more. It wasn't right.
"You're not cold are you?" I asked suddenly, watching snowflakes fall onto her pale skin. She laughed, running one hand back through her hair.
"I'm surprisingly warm," she admitted, her cheeks a lightly tinged pink. "You?"
"Same," I said gruffly, pretending to glance at something over her shoulder in an effort to relieve the awkward tension. Truthfully, I think I only succeeded in making it worse. And Claire was staring at me again, her eyes narrowed in thought. I couldn't keep eye contact with her – she was suddenly standing far too close for comfort; my heart was going like a jackhammer and my mouth was painfully dry. How many times could I describe the unreasonable effect she had on me? "The snow," I suddenly observed, shuffling my feet slightly as I looked at the ground. "It's all gray."
"... Yeah. Well personally, I think white snow's overrated," the blonde smiled, ducking her head to look at the ground as well. "You don't see many things that are quite that perfect, huh? Besides... I don't know. I guess I always liked the imperfect things the best."
Goddess help me.
"Why do you hardly talk?" she added softly, tilting her head to the side. Well, that certainly wasn't what I was expecting.
"Personally, I think talking's overrated," I mumbled shortly, earning a soft laugh out of her. I had a talent for being unintentionally funny, hey?
"You're a mystery," Claire whispered, stepping even closer to me. Her proximity was distracting; the scent of her perfume was too tempting, and those pouted lips were practically ordering me to grab her and kiss them like there was no tomorrow.
"There's nothing mysterious about me," I managed to choke through my not-so-appropriate thoughts. "It's called being a jerk. Pretty simple."
A sly smile crept onto her pretty face as she stepped forward again. I swear, one step closer and I refused to be held accountable for my actions. "I think you sell yourself short, Gray. I think there's a lot more to you than I've seen... that's the mysterious part."
Another step towards me, leaving practically no space between our bodies, and I'd just about had enough of this game. Teasing me like that – she was asking for it; she couldn't complain about anything I did now.
And then all at once, the impossible had happened - she was kissing me - and I wasn't about to push her away.
Maybe Christmas had come early this year. But hell, I'm not complaining.
I love Christmas.
--
LOL. Sorry for the OTT corny-ness. I love it toooooooo much :D :D
Hope you liked it, DoubleKK!! And of course, all you others ;) Merry Christmas!