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Only Cal helps Piper set up the Christmas tree; something neither are surprised about. Her family –– or whatever family she once knew –– have erased her name from the Christmas cards. No more "Perfect Piper". Now, "Creative Cal" has replaced her, yet "Doctor Danny" still has his own rightful place. In a pathetic attempt to make Piper feel better, Cal mocks their brother: notes how tedious he is; that his nerdy-ness is the reason he hasn't got laid in the past several years. It doesn't help. Because Piper isn't upset with Danny; it's not his fault her mother and father can no longer look past the fifteen month sentence looming on her shoulders.
The tree is in the living room, opposite the settee, near the fire. They hang bulbuls –– white –– and a little tinsel, but Piper makes it clear she doesn't want too much tinsel. Too much decoration will ruin it. Cal is cooperative. They drink whiskey, try some eggnog (which Piper immediately regrets), and even tease themselves to some port. Piper doesn't drink cheap anymore. At least, not as much. Life is richer, life has plenty more to offer. Now that her sentence is over, she no longer takes her privileged world for granted. Prison has opened to her eyes to what is really there.
For a joke, Cal wants Piper to put her stocking up too. They're twelve-year-olds, children, young siblings messing around, believing Santa Claus will come down the chimney and display Piper's presents beneath the Christmas tree. There won't be many presents this year, though. She doesn't expect many either. Doesn't want many. Presents –– materials –– they're not that great anymore. There's something else she wants. Somebody she wants. Having a Christmas tree, a stocking, tinsel –– all of that, it just doesn't matter like it used to. Who has the biggest presents, the most presents –– jewellery wrapped up in pretty paper, big meals on the table; food shared with a family she couldn't be truly honest with. She spent her whole life celebrating Christmas that way.
Never once did she celebrate Christmas her way. She didn't spend it with her: the invisible woman. Never spent the day with Alex. The only family she could really be herself around. Wealth, privilege, the amount of relatives she had –– fuck, Piper is grateful for all of that, but compared to Alex, it's nothing. Because even though Alex is not stable, she's not perfect, she's not wealthy, she's not going to be there waiting for Piper at the end of the aisle, dressed in white –– she's still her Alex. She's love. She offers love to Piper no one else has before. She is Piper's.
Piper wants Christmas with her. She doesn't want presents, doesn't want arguments, doesn't want to force smiles. She doesn't want anything but laziness; thick socks, hot chocolate, blankets, and Alex to hold onto as the nights get colder. She doesn't want Alex to be perfect, but she wants the perfect life with Alex. And that is possible. She knows that's possible. She's just too scared to ask. Too scared to know the truth. Too scared about the possibility that Alex might walk away.
They can give me gold. They can give me another life. They can give me freedom.
... but, compared to you, that doesn't amount to anything.
At three in the morning, Cal leaves, quite drunk and Piper collapses into bed. When she's awake, she goes to work, and she's the nice, blonde lady she is supposed to be. And, afterwards, she drives back to her apartment through the snow. Watches the Christmas lights while she passes. Smiles. Piper loves Christmas more than any other holiday. Loves the bitter, crisp air. Loves the carols echoing in the quiet night. Loves the warmth of her home. She lights a fire every night, pours half a glass of red wine, sits on the settee and reads her book.
She doesn't text Alex.
She doesn't call Alex.
For once, she lets Alex come to her.
On the 21st December, Piper starts to doubt. Her neighbour has decorated his apartment so wonderfully. He invites her round for mince pies. She meets a few people: his sister, two flatmates who live on the floor below. They haven't been involved in drugs, murder; they've never stepped into a prison. They're good people, and she tries to connect with them. Tries to talk and understand them, but they are not her. She once would have believed she was one of them, that she could understand and talk to them, but she is still the same woman dressed in orange khaki.
She is still Piper Chapman. A lone wolf, who howls every night for her lost mate.
But, by ten o'clock, when she heads back to her own apartment, she starts to doubt Alex will ever come to her. She doubts it fiercely. Maybe Alex already has company, someone to warm her bed. The corner of Piper's lips twitches. She's angry at the very thought Alex may be with another woman already, but what does she expect? They never confirmed anything when they left Litchfield, they never really confessed what they wanted. Nothing was established.
Yet, despite this, she isn't surprised when she sees Alex sitting by her door. Waiting for her to return. She's dressed in black jeans, a v-neck t-shirt, and a leather jacket. She dresses like she did at twenty-five. Piper halts on the staircase, and Alex scrambles to her feet. She must be freezing. Alex has never been very good at dressing warmly for the winter. Alex's cheeks are slightly red from the freeze, and her dark makeup is a lot heavier than usual.
As Piper hesitantly steps closer, she notices her lips are chapped, her nose sore. Alex has a cold. 'You don't wear enough outside,' Piper remarks. Alex shrugs. She doesn't need to explain why she's here, they both know why she's here. Piper sighs, in some sort of relief, and smiles. 'I thought you would arrive sooner. But I guess you've been busy.'
'Tsk,' Alex smirks crookedly. 'Yeah, right. If you call lying on my ass, reading all the time "busy" then sure.' She stops talking, her eyes taking in everything that is Piper. Her boots, jeans, thick and slightly puffy coat, tied back hair, blue scarf, gloves. 'Can I come in?' She asks. It isn't her role anymore to initiate everything. Alex has to step back. She has to let Piper take charge; she, now, has to lean on Piper to make decisions, to think about she wants.
Alex is starting to act like an adult. The lover Piper has dreamed of having for years.
She's growing up.
'Of course.' But she need not ask. Alex is always welcome in Piper's home.
She is home.
They step inside the apartment together. Snow melts on Alex's boots, and she shudders at how warm it is. The fire roars, and the Christmas tree is beautiful. Christmas cards are displayed across the walls, and there's a light-up snowman in the corner. A stocking too. Alex keeps her jacket on, whereas Piper removes her coat, boots, scarf and gloves. She steps past Alex, asks what she would like to drink. 'You got any beer?'
Piper pulls a face. 'Since when do you have beer?'
'Since I started liking it.' While Piper busies herself pouring drinks, Alex admires the cards. Most of them are from people she's never heard of. There's one from Polly and Larry and Finn. Alex swallows, and isn't sure why Piper kept the card. There's an additional message from Polly, on the left, and she hopes Piper and her can meet again soon. Have a coffee together. Maybe spend New Years together, although she has a hunch she's pushing it. That she misses Piper (awfully), and hopes things are going well.
Alex snorts, returns the card, but doesn't feel much about the issue. Larry is nothing to her, and she never cared about Polly. Piper is suddenly by her side, and passes a pint of beer, 'It's Great Lakes,' she says, referring to the alcohol. 'You tried it?' Alex takes a sip.
'Have now. Not bad.'
Piper looks at the card. She's distracted for a moment, before she says, 'I didn't think I'd hear from them. My parents have been conveniently away on holiday over the past month. I haven't seen much of them. Cal helped me with the tree. Do you have one?'
'No,' Alex chortles.
It's not that funny, though. She chortles because she doesn't want Piper to know that she's alone. She doesn't have siblings to help her set up Christmas trees. To make a house a home. Piper sees right through her and her expression softens. 'You should stay here, Al.' She hasn't called her by the name in so long, Alex doesn't recognise the significance at first. There isn't a verbal response. Alex is oddly quiet. Her nose twitches. She sniffs. Her cold is acting up. 'We can share the tree,' Piper teases.
Alex grins. 'If we're sharing it, then we have to get rid of this shit.' She points at the red tinsel.
'I thought it went well with the white bulbuls.'
'Aha. How could I forget your skilful taste in ornaments?'
Piper scowls. Leans up to kiss her cheek.
They pause. Alex's breath is hot on Piper's lips. Before they kiss, properly, on the mouth, Alex's eyes are already closed and instantly Piper's cheeks flush. She loses her breath just a little. Her lips hover over hers, arms gently wrapping around the back of her neck. Piper smirks, 'You missed it.' Alex smells so good: faintly of cigarettes, the beer she's tasted, something sweet, and of snow. Pure, white, refreshing snow –– it leaves Piper falling for her all over again. 'Unless you have somewhere else to be, I think you should stay.'
It's the first time in a while since Alex has smiled so broadly. Dimples show in her cheeks, and Piper has to smile back. Suddenly, it's easy, it's so easy and they both know Alex's answer. She's had this answer, this same answer, for decades. From the first day she met her.
'I don't want to be anywhere without you, kid.'
Piper hums a short, pleased tune. Closes her eyes, and kisses Alex softly. It's how it's supposed to be. 'Merry Christmas,' she mumbles.
So Alex stays, the tree is shared, and even though there isn't a large meal to have with the family, even though there aren't many wrapped up gifts under the tree; what they have, what Alex and Piper have –– each other –– is plenty.
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