Plot Synopsis: On her first Christmas as an official member of the Gibbs family, Jenny adjusts to the differences of this Christmas versus the pain and bleakness of all her others, and embraces feeling altogether happier with how far she's come in her recovery-and Kelly's, as well.
First Noels
December 1997 [Christmas Eve/Morning].
True to the tradition Jenny had first experienced on a more somber holiday eve four years ago, the classic comedy A Christmas Story was playing on loop on the television, while a fire burned in the earth and the smell of overly sugary sugar cookies permeated the air. While Ralphie sat with a bar of red soap in his mouth on screen, Jenny looked down at the seven-year-old in her lap and laughed quietly as she noticed Elizabeth had fallen asleep again. Her plan to uphold a vigil for Santa Claus had grown less and less determined as the hours dragged on and she got sleepier.
Gibbs looked up at the sound of his wife's laugh, and Kelly lifted her head from his shoulder, glancing over. She grinned, and Jenny shook Elizabeth gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head—which had fallen heavily against her shoulder.
"Vigil's over, Princess, it's time for bed," she said finally, sitting forward and nudging Elizabeth firmly.
Elizabeth grumbled, trying to muster some alertness and blink herself away.
"Ew, princess," she whined.
"Sorry, Sergeant," Jenny amended good-naturedly, and Elizabeth beamed, placated a moment.
She yawned and lifted her chin.
"Mommy," she began, puckering her lips. "Santa's not—"
"Lizzy, I told you, Santa doesn't come until you go to sleep," Kelly piped up.
"I was pretend sleeping!" Elizabeth insisted, yawning widely again. "I promise—I want to catch Santy Claus in the chimney!"
Gibbs smirked patiently and lifted his hand, snapping firmly at his youngest daughter.
"Jen's right," he said gently, eyeing Elizabeth sternly. "Bed time."
Elizabeth glared at him blearily, and hopped off Jenny's lap. Her stepmother stood up and tugged playfully on the edges of her hair, teasing Elizabeth silently. Elizabeth started to trudge out of the room, but Jenny clicked her tongue and pulled her back. Elizabeth's eyes widened and she darted over to kiss her father and her sister goodnight. She put her hands on her hips and gave her older sister a look.
"Kelly needs to go to bed too," she insisted. "I want my presents—Kelly is making Santa late!"
Kelly giggled, crinkling her nose, and pointed at the screen.
"Twenty more minutes and then I'm going to bed, okay?" she insisted seriously. Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at her, and then dashed down the hall to brush her teeth and get ready for bed.
Kelly glared mildly and then snuggled back up next to her father, eyes on the television.
"Make sure she flosses," Gibbs said, turning and narrowing his eyes.
Jenny caught his eye and nodded, winking.
"Way ahead of you," she said, following Elizabeth calmly. "You, know, Sergeant," she began, speaking to the little girl as she followed her down the hall. "Santa and the Tooth Fairy, they're tight, so you'd better be good and brush 'em good."
Jenny leaned in the bathroom doorway, watching Elizabeth dutifully brush her teeth with a brightly coloured Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles toothbrush. She smiled to see it—and to see the scrapes on Elizabeth's elbows left from playing kickball with the boys in her first grade class. To Joanne Fielding's dismay, Gibbs' remarriage and Jenny's female presence had no effect on Lizzy's lively tomboy tendencies. It seemed that it was just who Elizabeth was, and where it bothered Joanne; it just made Jenny love her all the more.
Elizabeth tried to sneak away without flossing, but with a look Jenny reprimanded her and the girl reluctantly went about finishing her routine—Elizabeth didn't really need supervision to go to bed anymore, but she still liked to be tucked in, and Gibbs and Jenny were happy to do it. For Jenny, it was something she relished—she wouldn't ever have babies to take care of, so she would cling to mothering Elizabeth for as long as she really could.
Elizabeth finished up and darted into her bedroom, peering out to wait for Jenny. She smiled at her, and followed her in, watching Lizzy get into bed and obediently wait for Jenny to come snuggle the covers around her.
"I'm not tired, y'know," Elizabeth announced, as Jenny tickled her sides gently while she smoothed all the blankets out.
Jenny touched Elizabeth's nose smartly and arched a brow.
"You're sleepier than you think, babe," she said knowingly, and leaned forward to kiss Elizabeth's temple. "Believe you me, morning comes faster when you sleep the night away."
Elizabeth giggled, and yawned sleepily.
"You sound like one of Kelly's princesses," she whispered, crinkling her nose.
"Hmm? Which one?" Jenny asked conspiratorially.
"The one who sings with the animals!"
Jenny laughed good-naturedly.
"That doesn't narrow it down much, does it?"
"Princesses are stupid and boring," Elizabeth whispered.
Jenny shook her head.
"Princess just like different things than Sergeants, Liz," she placated wisely, and flicked off the bedside lamp. "Get those sugar plums dancing in your head," she ordered, getting up.
She navigated the messy floor, making her way out of the room. She was at the door when Elizabeth spoke up, her voice already slurred with slumber—and Jenny smirked to herself; she had known the first grader was more tired than she was letting on.
"Mommy," she whispered.
"Lizzy," Jenny whispered back, pausing.
"If Santa brings me coal because I slapped Kelly last week, that's okay because Daddy married you and I got a Mommy so that's okay instead of presents."
Jenny bit her lip, looking admiringly at the little girl. She dipped her head. That was the thing about Elizabeth—she was a little untamed, and a little aggressive and daring, but she did tend to say the sweetest things at the most unexpected times. She winked in the dim light, hoping Elizabeth could see her.
"You're not getting coal, Ellie," she whispered affectionately, using the rare nickname only she ever employed, pulling the door closed, and leaving Elizabeth to sleep by the light of her beloved Power Rangers nightlight.
"Lizzy's right, Kel," Gibbs drawled, glaring pointedly at his eldest daughter. "Bed time for all non-adults."
"Oh, c'mon!" Kelly protested, bolting upright and narrowing her sharp eyes at him. "You totally let Lizzy stay up, like, three hours past her bed time!"
Gibbs laughed.
"You think you can make it to two a.m.?" he challenged pointedly.
"Um, duh," Kelly retorted loftily. "I have trouble sleeping, I stay up that late all the time," she informed him primly.
His smile faded slightly, and he ran his hand over her shoulders protectively. He hated it when she said things like that, and he didn't think she realized how much it troubled him to remember how bad things were for her sometimes. He was on the brink of asking her if her nightmares had been worse lately, when Jenny re-entered the room, caught his eye, and shook her head subtly.
"Kelly," she said brightly. "Help me set out these cookies for Santa?" she suggested.
Kelly twisted, eyed Jenny, and then got up, following her into the kitchen. She breathed in deeply and smiled, surveying the nicely decorated cookies.
"You're so good at icing them," she gushed, beaming at Jenny. "How did you learn to do it well?"
Jenny thought about it.
"Well, Munch used to have a wife," she said, grinning at Kelly's raised eyebrows of disbelief. "Mm-hmm," she confirmed, laughing. "And when Munch was taking care of me, she taught me how to bake lots of things."
Kelly nodded.
"That's cool," she said, trotting over to the counter and selecting a Christmas themed plate for the cookies. "My mom was bad at baking."
"She was not," Gibbs yelled from the living room—Jenny smiled, imagining the annoyed look on his face.
Kelly gave Jenny a wide-eyed look and nodded.
"Daddy doesn't understand that baking and cooking are different," she whispered seriously. "Mommy was only good at cooking."
Jenny nodded, starting to help Kelly arrange cookies elegantly on the plate. She tilted her head.
"It happens," she said good-naturedly. She crinkled her nose pleasantly. "It works out, then. I don't feel like I'm taking her place as cookie provider."
Kelly yanked her hand back and looked appalled.
"I didn't mean to make you feel like that!" she yelped, stricken. "I was just talking! I'm not mad at you for making cookies and—" she started to turn red, and Jenny put an arm around her quickly and shushed her, diffusing the situation easily.
"I wasn't offended, Kelly," she said, soothing her. "You know, I just," she paused. "I tread carefully," she murmured. "It's the first Christmas you've had a stepmother around. I'm trying to figure it out, too," she explained.
She and Jethro had been married since the beginning of October—and Thanksgiving had been impossibly difficult. Gibbs had chosen to go to his hometown of Stillwater, presumably to avoid flaunting his new wife in his mother-in-law's face, and Joanne had thrown an absolute fit and accused Jenny of interfering with tradition—it had not been pleasant, and Jenny had been wary of the upcoming Christmas holiday season ever since.
Kelly still looked sheepish, as she placed a yellow-iced, star-shaped cookie in the middle of the plate, finishing the perfectly organized pile of sugar cookies.
"I don't like the word stepmother," she muttered. "Cinderella had a stepmother," she noted, making a face.
"What would you prefer I be?"
Kelly looked exasperated, and then uncertain, like she didn't want to hurt Jenny. Gibbs prowled into the kitchen at that point, a wary look on his face. He'd been listening in, and he was concerned he might have to run damage control if something hurtful came out of Kelly's mouth—thought hurtful things rarely came out of Kelly's mouth.
"I don't know," Kelly said, taking the plate of cookies. "Stepmother makes you sound so…second-class," she said, turning her small nose up. She tilted her head to the side. "Kind of like…you can only have a silver medal, because someone already got the gold," she tried. She shrugged, and turned a little, her nightgown swishing around her knees. "Second wife, stepmother" Kelly sniffed. "I just think you mean more than that, or else Daddy never would have married you."
Kelly turned on her heel and scampered off to place the cookies, and Jenny raised her eyes to the ceiling, biting her lip to meter her smile a little. Gibbs glanced after Kelly and then turned back to Jenny, to gauge her reaction. She looked at him and shook her head, her hair falling in her eyes.
"I love her," she said quietly.
Gibbs smirked and stepped forward, kissing the corner of her mouth. He squeezed her hand, and opened the freezer, getting out a bottle of bourbon. He gestured to it, and she shook her head—she rarely ever drank, and when she did, it was weaker stuff than his whiskey.
"Hot chocolate?" he asked gruffly.
She nodded, and watched him a moment before wandering back into the living room. Kelly had placed the cookies, and was admiring an ornament on the tree, a small smile on her face. She turned, illuminated by the fire, and gave Jenny a sly look.
"Can I stay up and help you guys wrap presents?" she asked.
"No," Gibbs called sternly from the kitchen.
"Please?" Kelly asked. "I know Santa's not real—I stopped believing when my Mom died," she reminded them, eyebrows going up. "I could cut the wrapping time in half!"
Jenny grinned, shaking her head sympathetically, and Gibbs peered out of the kitchen, narrowing his eyes at Kelly.
"You don't get to sneak a peak at the goods, you little con artist," he said sternly, and she crinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. He made a motion with his hand like he was snatching it out of her mouth, and she closed her lips, squealing a little.
"You don't have to go to sleep if trying to is going to stress you," Jenny compromised gently, "but you do have to retire to your room and read a book until you fall asleep."
Kelly curtseyed.
"Yes, m'lady," she drawled, affecting a little accent.
She shuffled closer to the fire for a moment, watched the television a bit longer, and then looked around, as if making sure everything was ready for Christmas morning. She wrapped her arms around herself and then darted forward and hugged Jenny.
"I'll go to bed," she said, looking up at her earnestly. "I'm going to start Harry Potter tonight!" she added happily, and then squeezed Jenny tighter. "Lizzy would never forgive me if, uh, Santa hadn't wrapped anything by the time she wakes up."
Jenny nodded in agreement, running her hand through Kelly's long auburn hair. Elizabeth would be truly heart-broken, indeed, if she and Jethro couldn't get the presents wrapped before she was up and at 'em.
Kelly swiped a cookie from the plate and went to say goodnight to her father—after remarking loudly that it was so not cool that the adults got second helpings of hot chocolate—and then, as she made her way through the living room, she stopped, and looked at the Christmas tree.
She blinked.
"Kelly?" Jenny asked, worried suddenly.
Gibbs stepped into the living room, alerted by the tone of his wife's voice.
Kelly blinked again, and then looked over at Gibbs, and looked at Jenny.
"I'm okay," she soothed quietly; her eyes big and blue on Jenny's. "I was thinking—I feel normal," she said suddenly, abruptly. "It's kind of been…well, since that one December well…I always think of the Rat King but I…this Christmas I feel normal."
Jenny smiled at her whole-heartedly, her hand going inadvertently to the orchid pendant at her throat. Kelly smiled back, and then dipped her head and murmured another goodnight, darting off to bed—Jenny went to look at Gibbs, and found that he'd ducked back into the kitchen.
She went in cautiously, and found him staring at two mugs of hot chocolate, one with a peppermint stick in it, the other spiked with his usual bourbon. His shoulders were stiff, and when she approached him, she found his jaw was set. She recognized the sort of tension in his face and muscles that was there when he couldn't talk, or was having trouble dealing with emotions.
She touched him gently, and his muscles flexed.
"She feels normal," he repeated hoarsely—he sounded so relieved, so stunned.
Jenny smiled, and kissed his shoulder, her forehead lingering on his arm.
"Jethro," she murmured soothingly, her voice low. "Me too," she whispered, closing her eyes.
She crossed her arms and blushed slightly, standing behind him as he moved aside a wooden beam and revealed a stash of wrapping paper, presents, and Christmas bows. She was impressed—hidden in plain sight; the girls had never been the wiser, and he was clearly proud of the basement secret. He stepped back, and she leaned forward, and then tilted her head, looking at him. She chewed on her lip.
"So," she began softly, straightening. "Walk me through this."
She'd never been on this side of Christmas—the playing Santa part. There was something exhilarating and exciting about gathering all these gifts and making them part of the magic of children's—her children's—Christmas morning. She felt almost as excited as the girls would be tomorrow.
"Carry it upstairs, wrap it, get a few hours of sleep before Lizzy screams us awake," he said gruffly, handing her two brand new tubes of wrapping paper.
"We have plenty of wrapping paper upstairs," she murmured.
"Can't use it," he grunted. He arched a brow at her. "That's how Kelly figured it out—Shannon wrapped the presents from Santa in the same paper we'd used for family friends," he added wryly.
"She's too smart," Jenny laughed, taking a step back.
Gibbs gestured at the stairs.
"Go, get comfortable. I've got the gifts," he said gruffly—and she went upstairs to settle herself on the living room floor near the tree and the fire, where they'd already laid out scissors, tape, and glittery ribbon—as well as the girls' stockings.
She chose the spot closest to the hearth—it was cozy warm for her, but Gibbs thought it was sweltering. They had waited about an hour and a half before checking on the kids—Elizabeth was dead to the world, and Kelly had fallen asleep peacefully—and gathering the things to play Santa. Half the cookies were gone, and each of them was on their second mug of steaming hot chocolate—though hers was still only spiked with peppermint candy. She swept her mug off the hearth and took a long sip as Gibbs came up the stairs with the whole haul of gifts in a large Rubbermaid container. He arranged the tub so it was on it's side and they could grab gifts and wrap accordingly, and then sat down with his back against the couch, angled next to Jenny.
"You want to wrap or stuff stockings?" he asked, grabbing two boxes from behind the couch—one labeled Kelly and one labeled Lizzy—and pacing them near the stockings.
She pulled the boxes towards her tentatively.
"Stockings," she requested slowly. "I've no skill at wrapping presents—and you've had practice," she noted with a laugh.
She surveyed all of the things they'd accumulated for the girls over the past few weeks—some of them looked intimidating to wrap, and she'd rather leave that to him—after all, he'd done this by himself for years now. She bit her lip and pulled a stocking into her lap, checking the name before she started stuffing it.
Gibbs began measuring out paper for some of Kelly's new books.
"You always wrap them on Christmas Eve?" Jenny ventured.
Gibbs nodded, ribbon between his teeth.
"Wouldn't it be more prudent to wrap them beforehand?" she asked, smirking. "Less risk of the girls waking up, less last-minute work…"
Gibbs nodded, tying something up with the ribbon.
"Yeah," he agreed, rolling his eyes. "We didn't wrap 'em when Kelly was little, just placed 'em under the tree," he explained. "She got older, and I was deployed half the time," he grunted. "Shannon said she wrapped on Christmas Eve to take her mind off me bein' gone."
"Ah," Jenny said. She tilted her head. "You kept the habit—for the same reason."
He glanced at her, and nodded curtly, remaining silent. She turned her attention back to the stockings—it wasn't the first time she'd spent a Christmas at this house, but it was the first year she was living here, married to him, calling these girls and this life hers. She had been here on Christmas the year Kelly had been raped, but she had worked both years after, and then last year, as merely Gibbs' girlfriend, she'd only spent half of her time with them on the holiday, for fear of upsetting Joanne.
She thought of what Kelly had said—about feeling normal. She realized she understood that—the sort of normal feeling was settling over her, too. She never thought she'd get married, or have the chance to call two beautiful little girls her daughters, but here, this Christmas, she had a family—and she was participating in the tradition in a way she hadn't—she could hardly remember Christmas ever feeling so lovely—
She laughed a little, her eyes full of wonder, and Gibbs looked over.
"What?" he asked.
She paused, chewing on her lip, and looked up.
"I," she began. "This is—the first real Christmas I've had."
"Jen," he began gently, stopping what he was doing.
"In a long time," she amended softly. "I can't remember—I was six when my parents died, Jethro," she reminded him. "The memories are so faded," she broke off. "I haven't had a good Christmas in—twenty-four years."
He set his jaw, his eyes on her intently.
"Your aunt-?" he began.
"She never knew what to buy me," Jenny said, her lips turning up uncomfortably. "She put gifts in plastic bags, or she worked, and had a housekeeper watch me—and she didn't keep me for long."
Gibbs nodded, and when she went back to arranging the stockings, he went back to wrapping—he was impossibly quick about it, halfway through Kelly's haul already. She examined a small ballerina ornament for Kelly's stocking and then she cleared her throat, words spilling out of her mouth before she realized—
"Christmases in foster care were cold but…the first Christmas with Nancy and…the Orchid Thief," she paused, "it was nice," she managed.
He went on wrapping, but listened up sharply—she very rarely spoke about her time with the Moores, and when she did, he never knew quite what to do—and he had to take his direction from her.
She laughed a little.
"They didn't know what twelve-year-old girls liked, so they showered me with all kinds of things—Barbies, lip-gloss, an Easy Bake Oven," she broke off, and Gibbs snorted—she laughed in a strange way, because they both know the Easy Bake Oven was something Kelly had gotten two years ago. "That first Christmas...it was…endearing. While I was too little for...him to notice me, I guess."
She fell silent. She shifted, and picked up her mug of hot chocolate.
"They tried to make it a home," she said, as if she was confused. "He just—and then he raped me," she said dully, and closed her eyes.
Gibbs started to reach out, but she swallowed her drink and put down the mug, moving on briskly—and moving on to Lizzy's stocking.
"Christmas was miserable after that," she revealed frankly. "I was—I've told you—well, prostitutes, you'd be surprised at how high the demand is for them on Christmas, especially underage ones," she said grimly. "The years after I shot him, I don't remember it really—and then after I joined the force," she simply shrugged. "I chose to work. Elliot, Fin...they have kids—the others had people to go to," she shrugged again.
She licked her lips.
"It is," she murmured. "This—the first real Christmas," she mused. "It's…normal."
Gibbs had stopped wrapping. He just watched her, scrutinizing her intently—the way the firelight glinted in her long, thick red hair, and made shadows dance on her face in a glittery way. She looked young and scared, and he set his jaw angrily—he wanted to change so many things, for her, for Kelly. He watched her until she was finished stuffing Lizzy's stocking, and even as she got up to hang the girls' stockings over the fire.
"Jen," he said gruffly, looking up at her firmly. She looked over her shoulder. "This is your normal," he told her, patting his hand on the solid floor next to him, and then jerking his chin at the Christmas tree. "Me 'n' the girls. Nothin' else. Not Rick. Not those years when you turned tricks. This."
For some reason, he was the only man who could say the Orchid Thief's name to her without it making her flinch, or want to claw her eyes and ears out and off. She started to move towards him, but he pointed up at the mantle.
"Grab yours," he ordered firmly, gesturing to her stocking.
She took it, her hand shaking a little, and collapsed gracefully back to the floor. She crawled towards him, and he took her shoulders and pulled her close, lifting his knees so she fit in front of him between his thighs. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, his lips lingering against her cheek for a moment. His free hand lingered on her stocking.
"I've been stressed about this holiday," she whispered hoarsely.
"I know," he growled—he knew she'd been anxious and scared and nervous about it all, because this marriage was still so new, and there was a change in dynamic as she went from a friend of Kelly's to a confidant to an authority figure, and as she became Elizabeth's mother, and navigated that in terms of being his wife and still her own person—and he knew it was overwhelming, and Joanne was making things more challenging than they should be.
"The girls, Jen," he said. He shook his head, sighing, and frustrated. "Kelly hasn't had a good Christmas since she lost her mother."
"You don't give yourself enough credit," Jenny said quietly, shaking her head. She tilted her head up to him. "You're the only reason those girls enjoyed Christmas at all, since Shannon died."
He kissed her lips, a sort of grunt of disbelief rumbling in his chest, and she pressed closer to him, finding comfort in his warmth. So they still had half a pile of presents to wrap—it could wait. His hand slipped into the stocking, and he pulled out her gift—she gasped and pushed his hand away, but he smiled and shook his head.
"No," he growled good-naturedly. "Wife get hers on Christmas Eve," he insisted, pushing the box into her hand.
She held it reluctantly, and then she shifted to open it—and inside the white box were two hand-carved, smoothly finished, and finely painted orchid earrings—no diamonds, no amethysts, no expensive frills—just his handiwork, and her favorite flower. She bit her lip—closed her mouth tightly; her eyes stung.
"Orchids," he said gruffly, touching her necklace. "You said Munch got you that so you'd stop associating your favorite flower with that bastard," he remembered bluntly—it was so difficult for him to navigate all the psychology of her recovery. "These orchids are from me," he went on gruffly. "Associate 'em with me," he ordered, and then gestured around. "This."
She let her head fall against his chest for a moment and kept her lips closed tightly, clutching the box in his hands—he was the most incredible rock; his ability to ease the suffering around him, even when he himself suffered, constantly stunned her. She brought her hand up to brush at tears on her cheeks, but he got them for her, and then tilted her head up to kiss her again.
"I love you," she choked out.
"Hmm," he muttered, kissing her again. He stroked her hair. "I'll plant some in the backyard in spring," he promised. "Orchids, and sunflowers, for Kel," he added.
"I love you," she said against, more forcefully. There was nothing more important to say at the moment, and she couldn't if she tried.
It was emotionally wrenching to talk about her past Christmases, but she'd tried to struggle through it because with Jethro, she did feel better when she said something instead of suppressing it—she couldn't always help it if there were tears afterwards.
"Jenny," he murmured, kissing her jaw, tilting her head back, his lips travelling gently and slowly to her throat.
She leaned into him, enjoying his attentions, her thumb running over her carved earrings.
"Jethro," she said, a little bashfully. "I did—I was in Victoria's Secret and I—bought some…festively coloured lingerie," she admitted, shrugging her shoulder to give him a glimpse of a red and green patterned lace.
She had been wary of the lingerie since she bought it—and the look if surprise and thrill on his face wiped away her uncertainty—usually, she refrained from flashy or overly sexual underwear, because it made her uncomfortable to be too sexualized—insecure residue from her days on the streets. She'd wanted to go out of her comfort zone, though—if only because she'd never been more comfortable with her sex life than she was with Jethro.
"Yeah?" he asked huskily, moving his head to kiss the strap of the colourful lingerie. "You supposed to be Mrs. Claus or the home-wrecking elf?"
"Let's keep it in the species," she laughed.
"Bed?" he asked quietly, still pressing kisses to her throat.
She didn't know—she was kind of enjoying the innocent affection in front of the fireplace. She hesitated, and he eased off his ministrations a little, sensing her uncertainty. She looked apologetic, and then looked at the presents.
"Ah," he half-groaned, realizing they needed to finish.
She touched his jaw and kissed him, pressing the box of earrings against her breasts.
"Presents," she murmured. She flushed. "Then I'll sit in your lap."
He smirked, and kissed her again, lingering protectively. They were interrupted—by the sound of a small throat being cleared—and for a moment Jenny was petrified it was Elizabeth, and whirled around, stricken—but there stood Kelly, halfway to the kitchen, rubbing one eye, an empty cup in her hand.
Gibbs cleared his throat and straightened up.
"Kelly, go back to bed," he ordered seriously.
"You guys go to bed," she retorted, just as serious. "Lizzy's going to be so mad when I tell her that her Mommy was kissing Santa Claus," she groused, shooting them a smug look.
Gibbs glared at his pre-teen daughter balefully, and Jenny raised her eyes to the ceiling—Kelly being annoyed by her father's affectionate behavior, it was such a welcome new normal.
She was somehow simultaneously well rested and exhausted when Jethro shook her gently awake at—the crack of dawn. She blinked in sleepy confusion, and he placed a finger to his lips, indicating they should feign sleep.
"Jethro?" she hissed, curious.
He opened one eye and pulled her close, pressing his lips to her ear.
"Thought you'd want to be awake the first Christmas you get woken up by screaming kids."
"You—you ruined it!" she laughed, pushing at him playfully.
He smirked.
"It's less traumatic if you're awake, Jen," he assured her, pausing. "I didn't want it to freak you out, Lizzy attacking you in your sleep."
She smiled at his foresight, and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.
"How do you know when she'll bee awake?" she whispered breathlessly.
"It's six o'clock," he growled gently. "She's always in here no later than six fifteen—"
The end of his sentence was drowned out by Lizzy's excited shout as she burst into the room, flung herself onto the bed, and started to bunch around to wake them up for Christmas—and Jenny burst into laughter, because the excitement was contagious, and she felt it prudent to embrace the first Christmas she'd woken up happy in such a long time.
so, "coping mechanisms" and "slumber parties" focused pretty heavily on kelly's issues, and then "paper and blood" and this one focus more heavily on jenny's ("dates" is more relevant to the romance than anything else). i have a couple more ideas to touch on in this universe, so i think i'll be back fairly quickly-but do enjoy this little Christmas foray, it's so sweet.
feedback appreciated!
-alexandra