A/N; Merry Christmas, everybody! I apologize for taking so long to post again, but finals are a bitch! So here is the latest installment of Reese's story, and for more lovely Christmas fluff, check out Chapter Three of the collection The Way It Is, The Way It Should Be because it's a nice fluffy fic that may make you smile. Merry Christmas and happy holidays, you guys! Enjoy!
-Ash
"Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"
I snap my eyes open and reach for the sword I keep propped against my nightstand, expecting the worst instantly. But all my fear subsides as soon as I see Ross and Reese jumping up and down on top of the bed. Trott, who is next to me, rolls over and pulls the covers over his head, cussing and complaining in a low voice. I drop the sword off the side of the bed, covering my face with one hand.
"Oh my god, you two. It's six in the morning. What are you doing?" Reese, his leg fully healed after six months, jumps once more then falls on top of my chest, straddling my torso.
"It's Christmas!" he yells, his eyes gleaming and sparkling. I push him off and roll over, his words not really getting through my foggy, half awake brain. Reese gets back up and keeps jumping, shouting the same thing over and over again. Then the words hit my brain and I sit straight up in bed, causing both him and Ross to fall.
"Holy shit, it's Christmas!" I throw off the covers and jump out of bed, hastily throwing on a shirt. I had slept in my jeans after a long, late night of preparing the magical strings of lights for the castle. "We're expecting everyone over for dinner!" I run to the other side of the bed and tear off Trott's covers. "Get up, Trott! We have to clean up the castle!"
"Why are we having people hereā¦" he mutters, groping for the covers. "Why can't they all go to Lalna's castle?" I pick him up and set him on his feet, once again struck by how short he is.
"Because he hosted Christmas last year," I say. "Besides, we haven't hosted Christmas in the Spire yet." Finally, he opens his eyes and moves around, finding clothes in the sprawling mess that is the room we share. Once he's found some clothes, we walk out into the main room. My jaw practically hits the ground.
"Holy shit."
-Reese POV-
The place is an absolute mess. Pizza boxes from BeBop's pizza joint, bowls, and discarded bits and bobs from crafting litter the floors. Smith's magic area is in shambles, books and essentia vials strewn everywhere. My gunsmith's table, tack workbench, and storage chests are cluttered with bits of metal and leather and rivets. Trott's machinery area is beyond description. I can't even see the tinkering table under the piles of shit everywhere. The smeltery is a mess, and all of the casts and molds are all over the floor. Chests everywhere are overflowing with crap, or hanging open from when one or the other of us forgot to close them. Once I get over the shock of the mess, I take stock of the situation, organizing a list of things to do in my head.
"Right. Ross, you start on the furnace and smeltery area. Get things cleaned up. Things that need to be put in a chest, leave in a pile in the middle of the floor. Make another pile for trash. That goes for you two as well. Trott," I say turning to the bleary eyed man in a walrus shirt, "you handle the tinker's table and machinery area. The magic and flux cleanup is up to you, Smith. We don't want Kim going crazy around the flux, ok? I'll handle the chests and the trash. Ready? GO!"
In less than an hour, everything is clean. Smith is being the Sorcerer's Apprentice, waving his wand at a bunch of mops. Thankfully, he's better at magic than Mickey Mouse, so they aren't going haywire. As we go along, the pile of trash in the middle gets bigger and bigger, but the place looks much better than it did earlier. Somehow, Trott finishes his area quicker than everyone else, so I send him downstairs to start decorating and putting up the tree. After Ross, Smith, and I finish, we head down the grand staircase to help decorate.
Four hours later, the place is spotless. The Main Hall is decorated with magic lights and golden tinsel. In the center of the room, a giant Christmas tree rises up almost to the ceiling, a golden star perched at the top. Presents are scattered around the bottom, with room for many more. Smith turns to Trott with a confused look on his face.
"How the hell did you get that star up there?" he asks the shorter man. Trott grins.
"Very carefully." I laugh, and so does Ross.
"Ok, guys!" he says. "Go get cleaned up and dress nicely. We are expecting people in" -he checks the clock- "Forty minutes. Go!" As one unit we thunder up the stairs to complete the last stage of preparations.
