Summary: Life is short. But for some, it can also be long. It's the little moments you have to live for; the happy accidents and unexpected moments that manage to make you smile. Mitchell knows this best of all. A series of oneshots: in which Christmas gifts are not always the most important thing.
AN: Oh God. I'm so, so sorry. That's all I can say for those who favorite/followed/reviewed this story back in December. Just…*sigh*
I have no excuses that matter in the long run, but I'll use this as a peace offering.
~Serendipity~
Chapter II: I Can Hear the Bells II
"You've got to be joking."
"It's perfect."
"It's revolting. Please, George, let's go."
"No! We're going in there."
"Ha, you see, with this there is no 'we.'" Mitchell raised his pointer fingers and, well, pointed them at George. "There is only you and your stupidity."
"Oh, Mitchell, please—"
"OhMitchellplease, nothing! It's crawling with kids and stuffing and…beady eyes—no, George, I'm a grown man! You, on the other hand, are apparently questionable."
George turned to his friend with an earnest look.
"George, no…" Mitchell tried to look away, but the werewolf followed the path of his gaze. "George, not the face. Stop it…you're an embarrassment to your species, you know that?"
George didn't relent. If possible, his eyes grew larger and more pathetically pleading.
"George…"
"Yes, Mitchell? Best friend, oh pal of mine?" Still with the face. Mitchell gritted his teeth and shook his head. He leaned close to George with his head bent.
"If anyone else hears about this, I'm tossing your gift into the trash."
And before George could add to his statement, he said,
"I'll crush it into a million little pieces, then toss it into the trash."
George had no qualms about dumpster diving to make a point.
"Don't worry, Mitchell," he said, leading his friend over to the store with bright red letters and loud music that would be sure to give the vampire a migraine after what he'd suffered with the bells. "This is the best idea I've ever had, I can feel it."
On Christmas morning, all of them sat comfortably on the couch with hot chocolate and a present each to kick start the festivities, Nina finally opened her gift from her boyfriend and simply raised a brow, a slow smile stretching across her face until she could no longer control the bubble of laugher that came out of her mouth. She kissed George on the cheek and laughed until tears came out of the corners of her eyes, something the other three rarely saw and were surprised by, but she cuddled the stuffed bear to her chest.
"I made it myself," George said proudly. Nina smiled wider, something Annie didn't think was possible.
"I love it, babe. It definitely has your personal touch…"
Mitchell snorted and Annie elbowed him in the side. He secretly called it the "monstrosity," simply because it took George three tries to glue the eyes (leaving some questionable residue around the beady, black pupils). The ballerina outfit it wore was slightly skewed in the back because George put a little too much stuffing on the right side, giving it a singular roll of fat that was out of place with the bear's only slightly rounded left side.
But Nina was secretly touched that George had remembered how much she used to love dancing as a little girl. She'd taken lessons since she was four, only stopped when she broke her ankle at eleven. It never healed quite right, so she never danced again. Dancing was what had initially trained her to be outwardly confident and independent, their strict teachings what trained her sense of discipline. George was able to pull the soft side out of her, show her that she didn't need to be put together all of the time. That with the people she considered family, she could be herself.
And this reaction was why George, being Jewish, indulged in these Christmas holiday traditions. Nina's carefree laugh, a time for Mitchell to relax and allow himself to forget about his daily struggle, and a chance for Annie to...well, be Annie without the rest of them distracted by work.
Annie thought the gift was sweet, but couldn't help her amused grin with Mitchell tossing her conspiring looks throughout the entire exchange. He'd warned her beforehand that George had forced Mitchell along on the single worst idea he'd ever had, and it was everything he'd thought it would be.
"George, what's that smell?" Mitchell whispered.
"Old popcorn and dirty socks, I believe."
"Is that what children are supposed to smell like?"
"Eh, try not to think too hard on that." Then George was turning away to talk to one of the employees, and Mitchell was trying hard not to gag.
"Your turn, Annie. Watcha got there?" asked George. Annie turned the box over in her hands. It was rather large and flat, almost like the width of a book but much bigger than that.
"I'm not sure…but it's from you, Mitchell!" She turned to Mitchell with a smile and he couldn't help but return it at her excitement.
"Well, go ahead then," he said. "Just know that mine has two parts. One you have there, the other I have here."
He pulled the second, much smaller box from behind him. When he saw her grab the present from under the tree, he grabbed its companion for when she opened hers from him.
"Ooh, two presents! I feel special," she teased, and started ripping off the blue wrapping paper from the first one.
"Well, I—I couldn't decide which one would be better, so…both." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, but she didn't seem to notice his babbling with how focused she was on the present. Letting the wrapping paper fall to the floor, Annie's mouth fell open in a soft gasp.
"Mitchell…"
Her fingers caressed the old leather cover, the binding she'd super-glued four times.
"When we moved, I…I found this, and thought you would want it when," he paused, swallowed past the painful memory of that time. "When we got you back."
In actuality, at the time he hadn't been thinking he could bring her back. But the guilt had been eating him alive and it was a part of her he could still keep with him when he was craving her tea and just needed her.
Annie looked up at him with a bright, tearful smile. Carefully she set the gift down on the coffee table and caught Mitchell in a warm embrace, sitting with her legs folded under her so she could hug him fully. She surprised him with the strength of her arms around his neck, but he let himself truly enjoy it, wrapping his arms around her waist. She pulled away all too soon and George asked what it was that Mitchell had given her. The vampire ignored the strange smile on George's face while Annie plopped back into her seat and happily answered.
"It's my old photo album," she said, opening it for all of them to see. For a few minutes they laughed at her old baby pictures, picnics and outings to the park with Annie and her older sister Sarah and her parents, Annie with braces, Annie and Sarah off to the school dance.
"Oh my God," Annie laughed, "I'd forgotten about my heinous sense of fashion back then."
"Aww, what's wrong with it?" Mitchell teased. "I was sure those ruffles were back in style in the 90s."
"And what about that lovely shade of chartreuse," added George, his brows raised.
"You two hush," she said in amusement, and flipped the page. There were pictures of her graduation, the after party with all her friends, then a time jump to a single frontal shot of the house in Bristol.
"Mum gave me this to take with me to college…I didn't really take any more pictures after I met Owen," she said, and the name still managed to bring down the atmosphere a little. "And then I died…but then these strange men moved into my house…"
The next group of pictures were candid shots Annie took of George and Mitchell while they weren't looking at her. Not that Mitchell came out in the photos, but it was quite funny trying to pinpoint where he would have been. By then they'd already become friends and it was a night George had made spaghetti. Mitchell had been stealing all of the garlic bread to prove it had no effect on him while George clearly looked indignant at his hard work going to waste. He tried to steal the basket back but Mitchell held it just out of reach, as seen by the basket floating in mid-air off the table. Annie remembered it well; he'd been taking large bites out of the bread pieces while fighting George off.
There were a few more of George making funny faces at the camera and toward the end, there were some of him and Nina who mostly avoided it. Except for one, a date night for Nina and George. Annie did Nina's makeup and insisted on the picture to remember her handiwork, and Nina gave in and smiled softly at the camera.
"Thank you for this, Mitchell," Annie said at last, "It's a little bit of home."
"Well, technically it was already yours," he pointed out with a smile, "but you forgot about this one."
He handed her the second gift, and this time she opened it with even more gusto until again she was left speechless.
"How in the world did you find this?"
"It was the only thing under your chair besides the album."
"Is that a jewelry box?" asked Nina.
"No," Annie said with a smile as tears trickled down her face. "It was my grandmother's though."
It was clearly old and wooden, but beautifully carved and painted with swirling designs and a metal latch. Annie twisted a knob in the back several times and opened the top, revealing the black velvet inside and a gentle melody that began to play.
"I don't remember the last time I looked at this. I was a little girl when she gave it to me, a year before she passed. My sister got one of her oldest rings, but I wasn't jealous when I had this."
"It's beautiful," said Mitchell. Again she smiled at him and he wiped the tears from under her eyes with a gloved hand.
"Aw, Mitchell, you outdid us all," George said with a smile that betrayed he didn't mind all that much, with how happy their ghost seemed to be.
That day was more peaceful than they'd been able to enjoy in a long time. But soon enough, the morning passed into afternoon with Annie and George working on Christmas dinner and Nina and Mitchell contentedly watching old Christmas movies playing on telly. Dinner went from a quiet evening to a game of "who can toss the most roasted almonds into George's mouth." Needless to say, if Annie could be tired after the full day she'd had, she would be dead on her feet. But Mitchell took out the trash and helped her clear the table while George and Nina went for a walk around the neighborhood to see all the Christmas lights.
"Honestly, it couldn't have been that bad," said Annie.
"You have no idea. The guy was like, 'well, first you pick a skin for what kind of stuffed animal you want, then go to that machine over there. It'll stuff it for you, blah, blah, blah.' Then George stuck a little heart into it and picked out clothes and all that."
"Stuffing the animal, how cruel."
"All the little kids laughing and chanting to the music blaring, I could have sworn it was a demonic ritual."
"Oh, Mitchell—"
"Or a taxidermy practice. Instilling it at a young age."
Annie couldn't contain her incredulous laughter and threw a dishrag at him.
"You're terrible."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they worked on their task of putting away the food and preparing the dishes for George and Nina when they got back.
Mitchell caught the smile on Annie's face and couldn't help but tease, "Thinking about those ruffles in hot pink this time?" Annie guffawed and half-heartedly slapped his shoulder.
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
"Not a chance." He set down the plates in the sink and moved out of the way for Annie to put in the silverware.
"Thank you, though. It was way better than my gift." New gloves (his old ones had been threadbare) and replacements of some of his favorite CDs he'd lost in the move to Barry Island.
"Are you kidding? Those are my favorites and I couldn't believe I'd lost them. All I did was give you back your own stuff," said Mitchell, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.
"Yeah, but it was perfect." She looked down at her flats for a moment. "If I'm being honest, I was a little homesick."
He looked over at her in sad understanding.
"I love being here. Love it because I'm with my family, you and George, and now Nina," she said. "But that little house was…well, it was more than just where I died. Maybe that has something to do with it, but…all those memories, you know?"
"I know, Annie. It's hard…but as long as we're all together now," his eyes met hers and he smiled genuinely, "I'm home."
Her smile was soft while her eyes were a bit glassy, but she turned to him and pulled him into another hug, this one even warmer than the first despite the fact that neither could give off warmth. It was a strange, yet comforting feeling that Mitchell was becoming more and more grateful for every time it happened. Because now he knew what it was like not to have it.
To have Annie.
It reminded him how selfish he had been, blinded by the responsibilities he'd placed upon himself and how blinded by rage he'd let Lucy make him. He pulled away but didn't remove his hands from Annie's waist as he looked down at her.
"Annie." She frowned at seeing the heaviness in his eyes, stared up at him in concern. "Before…the last things I said to you I—I never meant…they were terrible and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Annie."
"Oh, Mitchell, I know," she said and brought him close again, tightening her arms around his neck. "It wasn't you…not really."
"I've never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted you to see that side of me," he said into her hair. It was soft and ticked the side of his face. "And when you were gone…I felt you. I felt you leave and it was the most painful thing I've ever felt in my life."
He felt her tears on his shoulder and heard her quiet gasp and had to hold her tighter.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again, and she shook her head, pulling away just enough to stare directly into his eyes and take his face in her hands.
"It's okay. Without you I wouldn't be here now, and here is the only place I will ever want to be." And now she could say she meant those words, because Mitchell had reminded her of what was important. Not a house she'd died in, full of unfulfilled promises and a life that was never meant to be, but the people who were with her now.
"I just remembered something," she said, a glint of mischief in her smile and the slight raise of her brow. He smiled a little, playing along.
"What is that?" Her hands drifted down to the lapels of his jacket that he'd forgotten to take off after taking out the trash.
"My gift to you also has two parts."
"Really?" Mitchell asked, his eyes dancing. "What's the second part?"
Annie leaned upwards and used his jacket to bring him down to her level, touching her lips to his tenderly, sweetly, and just long enough for him to press back against her and reflexively hold her tighter against him. When she pulled away he could have sworn she was blushing, even if that was probably impossible for ghosts. The sudden hesitance in contrast with her previous boldness, to him, was endearing.
She let her arms swing at her sides while Mitchell crossed his in front of him and tried hard not to smirk.
"That was for, you know, saving me," she said. And after a slight pause, she smiled, "And for reminding me where home really is."
His eyes softened and he stepped forward, grasped her shoulders, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"Anytime."
So I'm sure many of you know the store I was referring to where George found his "perfect gift," and I know they don't have you glue on the eyes, but for the purpose of this story I took creative liberties. Let me know if you liked it, where I should continue, all that jazz. Thanks!