Author's note: this chapter, along with the next (last) one are dedicated to Tara. 3
The cold wind nipped Aiden's extremities, despite his best efforts (a hat, boots, gloves and a scarf) as Westchester's "downtown area" came into sight. The ground was a nightmare, especially for Charles' wheels, so walking/rolling to town, though it was short distance, was out of the question. None of the cars Charles owned were large enough to fit all of them in it, so they had decided to charter a bus for the ride into town, and just bear up to the cold weather when they got there.
The bus ride had been tense; after all, it had not been a friend who was driving them, it was a stranger. A human, in the non-mutant sense of the word. And it wasn't that they couldn't trust all humans–they just wanted their security and anonymity intact. Well, that, and the bus not to crash into a tree when, all of a sudden, one kid started screaming and another began shooting discs of fire from his waist. Hank had decided to stay at the mansion, despite Charles' most determined reasoning, and Sean and Alex's attempted draggings.
"The last thing you need is a blue golem blowing your cover in town." He shrugged Alex and Sean off, letting Alex hit the floor from a foot or two higher than Sean. He wasn't even angry; his voice, which was a low growl to begin with, did not contort in any frustration that wasn't linked with having two grown men attempt to abduct him. "And besides," he said, "Someone needs to look after this place."
During the bus ride, they had all remained silent, and kept to themselves, even extroverts like Sean. He sat next to Aiden with hands folded in his lap. This tranquil job put the bus driver in a very good mood, and he told each and every one of them personally how wonderful it was to drive them as left the bus. Most of them (sans Alex) managed to fake a smile as they left it, but none of them were able to maintain it after.
"I wonder how he'd have felt if he knew who we really were." Aiden found himself muttering as his boots crunched against the already trampled snow. He was still a little bitter that Hank wasn't able to come, despite his assurances that he was alright and entreatments for him to have a good time. It wasn't fair that Hank couldn't come just because he couldn't look normal in public, just because he couldn't hide his ability like the rest of them–he tried to stifle such thoughts; they weren't fit for the season.
Charles had brought them all to a local café for hot cocoa, and had dismissed them to do their holiday shopping, on the condition that they'd meet back in the café in about an hour. They all dispersed eagerly and alone, after a solemn warning to be on their guard from Charles, and began entering shops. Aiden was succeeding mostly in stifling any discontentment he was feeling, since the novelty of the whole situation was so striking to him; sure, he had lived in New York City once, but he hadn't been anywhere remotely "downtown" for months! That, on top of the fact that he needed to purchase his Secret Santa gift, motivated him.
The whole gang had decided, even Charles, to put their names into a hat to decide who would get who holiday presents, as they all agreed that everyone getting presents for everybody was a bit excessive. Money was tight for most of them (except Charles, of course), but that was okay, since they didn't really need money at the school, as strange as that sounded. Charles had gone the distance and funded them completely, and they all were grateful, but something like Secret Santa required money. So, Charles gave them all a "holiday stipend", as he had put it, to spend, with only one requirement attached to it: part of it had to go to their Secret Santa present. Aiden didn't know how Hank would manage to get his present, or if that was even considered at the time.
He went from shop to shop, wondering what he would get Sean. He had been quite relieved when he had drawn his name from the hat, as he had no idea what he would have gotten for Charles or Hank, let alone Alex–not fit for the season, Aide, not fit for the season. He tried to push it out of his mind. With Christmas, and furthermore, New Years coming, he had resolved to think less negatively, at least when it was practical to, and worrying about what would have happened if he had drawn Alex's name from the hat was not under the label of "positive". Things were still terse between them, but he had to get a present for Sean, and he could push anything else as far out of his mind as he needed to. Today was meant to be about Sean, or at least getting a gift for him.
The problem was, he didn't know what to get. Sean seemed like a really contented person: he dressed himself well, needed nothing to augment his ability that wasn't provided by the school, and was just all around happy. The only thing he could think of getting him was food, but he worried whatever he could get would perish by Christmas, or worse, someone, Sean especially, would find it. As far as Aiden knew, there was only that one fridge in the kitchen in the entire mansion, and not only was it communal, but Sean stopped by it whatever chance he got.
Aiden shuddered, remembering the sound of shattering glass as that jar of jam hit the floor, falling from Sean's hand as Erik presented himself in the hallway. The thing was, it wasn't even really Erik. It was a girl named Raven, or Mystique, as she liked to call herself, and she was a shapeshifter. She had come to "retrieve" Aiden, as she had said, and as much as Aiden wanted to say yes, he found himself saying the opposite. Huffing, she had vanished into a puff of red smoke after a mysterious man of the same color had advanced out of the darkness. Sean had told him later that the man's name was Azazel, and he was a teleporter.
All of Erik's friends thus far had treated him so badly, between verbally and physically attacking him and just deceiving him, and that wasn't the kind of thing persuaded him to join their side. If Erik cared about him, wouldn't he have came and got him himself? Aiden knew that was demanding a lot, but it only felt right to wonder about it; Erik should have looked out for him more in this whole situation, or at least sent nicer "friends" to pick him up. He sighed. He was planning to tell Charles on Christmas that he was going to stay, even though he wasn't one hundred percent sure about it–at least the people at his academy treated him like a person–most did, that is. He was very nervous about it, and Charles' intimidating nature didn't help–
His eyes fell upon a book, bound in tan leather. Unconsciously, he began to stroke the cover. Catching himself, he began to leaf through it, and was surprised to find it empty. It was a notebook–in the place of words were lines.
"Ya like it?" The gap-toothed shopkeeper said, smiling and stroking his beard. "That's hand-bound, you know. Built-in space to hold your pen, too."
"Wow." Aiden said, picking it up. "How much?" The shop-keeper told him the price; it was just about the entirety of his "holiday stipend", but it had to be bought. Sean had many things: a hungry stomach, imagination and sense of humor, all bottomless, but one thing he did not have was organization. Or, the opportunity to have it, the means to write it all down. He reached for the money in his pocket.
On Christmas day, they were all up bright and early, and had breakfast in the dining hall. Aiden was pretty sure everyone had taken a crack at getting their way into the living room, where the Christmas tree was. He knew that he and Sean had, with very little success: the door was locked, just as Charles had left it the previous night. He had made them all bring their presents to leave under the tree before telling them that he was going to lock the door.
Breakfast was special: blueberry pancakes. They were delicious, and the only thing that puzzled Aiden was where they came from. They certainly weren't store bought, and he couldn't quite imagine Charles waking up early and laboring over the stove so that they could all have a good breakfast. Hank soon fessed up, and despite several sardonic laughs from Alex, everyone thanked him.
"Well, everyone," Charles said, as the eating began to wind down, "Shall we retire to the living room?" He was met with yearning nods, and only one person disagreed with the scheme: Sean, who was hoping to get at least two more pancakes. After several exclamations from the group, Sean decided to have his second breakfast later, and everyone began to make their way to the living room, Charles at the front, the only one with a key. Tired of waiting, Sean began to push him, speeding up the process significantly.
Before long, they were all in the living room, reclining in couches, armchairs or on the floor; it didn't matter as long as they were near the tree. It rose above all of them, even Hank, twinkling as if it were aware of all the good cheer it was bringing. Under the tree were five presents, one for everyone who wanted to participate in the gift exchange. At the very right, wrapped in polka-dotted paper was the one Aiden had bought, the paper wrinkled slightly from being hidden under his bed.
"Let's start…on the right, then." Charles said. "Whoever gets the present will give theirs, next." He rolled up to the tree, and, picking up Aiden's parcel, checked the card. "It says it's for you, Sean." Sean shot up from the floor, clambering to Charles, whom he snatched the present from.
"Um–sorry." he said after it was safely in his grasp.
"It's quite alright–" But the end of Charles' sentence was drowned out by the tearing of paper, and the revelation of the notebook. The first thing he noticed was the leather, then the built-in pen compartment.
"This is–wow," he said, "Who got me this?" After a moment, Aiden stood. "Wow, thank you!"
"You're welcome," Aiden assured him. "Now you finally have some place specifically for quirky sandwich recipes, or your notes on homosexuality or whatever–" He felt Sean tackle him in a hug, and reciprocated. "I figured it's also kind of a present for Hank, Charles…all the instructors, really; keeps space in your school notebook for your notes." Charles gave an approving nod, Hank smiled.
"Sean, would you like to give your present, now?" Charles began to ask, but Sean was already advancing to the tree, and he picked up a package wrapped in brown packing paper and bright red ribbons. He brought it to Charles and pressed it into his hands, simpering.
"You know it." he said quietly. Charles cut the ribbon and systematically began to unwrap the present. The whole audience was on the edge of their seats, wondering what Sean could possibly have gotten Charles for Christmas, and perhaps Charles knew this, as his hands trembled with urgency, but this may have just been childish excitement that he was unable to repress. His brow furrowed as he began to see what was underneath the paper. No one could take it anymore; they all just got up and outright looked, then, beholding a pair of Groucho glasses, new and in the box.
At this point, Sean was the only one laughing, but surely enough, Charles began to laugh, too. It was a controlled, nervous laughter, at first, but as others began to join in, it lost its tame and restrained nature. When asked for an explanation, Sean merely said, "Dude, you need to lighten up." This sent another wave of laughter through the audience when it was discovered that Charles had gotten Alex a pair of silver cufflinks. "See?" Sean said, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.
After Alex thanked Charles for his present, it was time for him to give his own. The list of people was becoming smaller and smaller, and though Aiden momentarily feared that Alex had him, he was relieved, even if momentarily, when Alex presented a gift to Hank. Bemused, but good-natured, Hank smiled and thanked him, beginning to unwrap the present. If the others around had thought Charles' present opening was methodical, they now saw how mistaken they were. Hank took the tape off of the hastily wrapped present first, and, setting the brown box underneath the paper aside. He folded the paper until it looked as good as new, better than it had when it was wrapped, in fact. Only then did he turn to the box and open it. A shifty eyebrow twitch was what first notified Aiden that something was wrong. He lifted an extra large apron, lacey apron from the box.
"Very funny, Alexander," he said quietly, in a tone more threatening than anything else. Aiden almost winced; it looked as if a fight was about to start. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who thought so; he thought he saw Sean tense up next to him, and was one hundred percent sure that Hank's hands were normally not balled up in fists. But, instead of taking things too far, Hank folded the apron and put it beside the wrapping paper. "Thank you." he said brusquely. "Who's next?" After a moment of tense silence, Charles told him that it was his turn to give Aiden a present, as he was the only person left who hadn't received one. Hank simply nodded, advancing to the tree. He picked up his present and went to the couch, where Aiden sat. "May I speak with you privately?" Aiden acquiesced. When they were outside of the room, Aiden asked Hank quietly if he was okay. "Oh, me?" he asked. "I'm fine. I'll be fine." His tone was getting less assured with every sentence he uttered. "That chump couldn't mess with me if he tried."
He offered Aiden his present: a box smaller than his hand, wrapped in green paper. Aiden tried to unwrap it in an orderly fashion, but gave up, and began ripping at the paper. He tucked the wrapping's remains into his pocket and opened the gray box that it had concealed.
"I know it isn't much, and it's not even finished, but I thought you would value it–" Hank began during the whole unwrapping process, but was cut off by a gasp and a hug. In Aiden's hand was, welded together masterfully, leaving only fine lines where the metal had been torn apart, the flask that had once held whiskey and nitrogen gas. Hank held Aiden tightly, glad his present was so well-received.
"Thank you so much." Aiden said, and though he was trying to hide it, he was beginning to tear up. He looked down at the flask; it was still missing a rather large shard on the front side, but he had thought it was beyond repair after Emma had smashed it with her diamond foot.
"I'm sorry it's not full–I couldn't find that last damned piece–I can make a piece to complete it, but I was going to ask you first–" This time, it was Hank who gasped. Out of his pocket, Aiden produced a shard of metal on which the initials EL were carved in script letters, and inserted it into the hole in the flask. It fit perfectly, and wanted nothing but to be welded into the overall structure.
"I would really appreciate it if you'd weld this in." Aiden said quietly, barely able to contain his tears. He hugged Hank again. "Thank you so much. Merry Christmas–" He retreated, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand and cutting off the end of his sentence.
That night, after the Christmas festivities were over, and Sean was in a food coma on the couch, Aiden crept away to Charles' office. They had many things to speak of, after all.