Lapis stops by Dr. Drakken's house after he flies home for the night. She wants to see the blue circles again and the multicolored bulbs strewn everywhere.

The house is apparently cold, because Drakken nestles under a wide blanket embroidered with pictures of what Lapis now recognizes as snowmen. He brings his shoulders together and rubs his arms, and then he leans against her.

She is comfortable and warm already.

"I wonder if maybe we shouldn't have opened our presents early," Drakken says worriedly.

Lapis feels the hollows of her insides flinch. "Is it forbidden?" She wouldn't want to be accused of violating an Earth custom on her first Christmas.

"Not by law," Drakken says. He shifts under the blanket and lets out an elaborate yawn. "Just…if you open too many too early, you might not have anything left for the big day."

The big day, Lapis assumes, is Christmas itself. It arrives in only two days, time that Lapis knows is lagging for Drakken. She feels sorry for him, but she can't empathize.

Two days is a firefly's flicker.

"Ah, well, don't worry," Drakken says, and Lapis isn't sure if he speaks to her or himself. "Mother will have plenty of other presents wrapped up and waiting for the both of us."

Lapis nods, her toes curled up under her insteps. Homeworld also used to have a festival marking the end of their solar year, though never one as fanciful as this. The Pearls did not get the day off, for one thing, and while there was dancing, the crux of it was to praise the Diamonds for their wisdom and thank them for the Gems' prosperity.

Looking back on it is like looking at a tree struck by lightning: a blackened, charred, twisted remnant of beauty.

"Are you excited?" Drakken says. His voice has the warbling quality that an archaic Gem ship takes on as it is powering down. His eyelids, too, seem to be sagging under Earth's limiting gravity.

"I…I am," Lapis answers honestly. "It's been awhile since I got the chance to be excited, and that's probably half of it right there. I'm so glad I –"

A sawing noise cuts her words short. Lapis looks down to find Drakken's head reclining against her arm, its pressure heavier than it looks, his lips parted open and huffs buzzing from his nostrils. For a moment she is concerned, then confused. Then she understands.

He's asleep.

He has been so excited all day that he finally wore down his supply of energy.

Lapis feels her face soften in the low light. Gently, she backs away from Drakken, cradling his head in her hands so it won't hit the floor; she was Taught that human skulls vary in durability. She lowers him and watches his body go into a childlike curl.

And for a moment, she watches him. It is only the third or fourth sleep she has witnessed.

Drakken's long, curled eyelashes splay across the smudged skin beneath them. His cheeks pucker with sawed-off breaths, buckling the scar against the pastel blue. He grunts in his sleep, waves his hand at some object known only to him, his nose almost lost in his eyebrow as it lowers pensively. And yet there is still that smile, flashing and fading only to flash again.

Steven uses a pillow when he sleeps. Lapis retrieves a chubby one from the couch and prods it under Drakken's neck, bramble strands of his hair tickling her fingers. He already has a blanket, so she simply readjusts it around his inert form.

Something, however, is still missing.

Lapis looks at Drakken's favorite chair, where his teddy bear and hers are propped up together, holding hands, his with a constant pout and hers with a tentative hope. She scoops up Drakken's bear and secures it in the lanky wild swing of one arm.

In her head, Lapis wishes him a good rest and no nightmares. She gathers Plastic into her arms and departs for Mama Lipsky's.

The next morning, when Lapis arrives to collect him, she spies a neighbor woman struggling to push her car through the snow. She's cleared both sides but a pile of creamy snow remains at the base of the driveway, refusing to budge as the car's back end taps it again and again.

Lapis pokes Drakken. "Do you like that neighbor?" she whispers. Even through the car's front glass, she can see the woman wearing a scowl.

"Yes," Drakken says. "She's pretty nice."

"Okay." Lapis raises her hands and inundates her head with thoughts of warmth and fluidity. Within seconds, the snow has dwindled to a puddle through which the car easily splashes. The woman cranes her neck in disbelief, and Lapis grabs Drakken's arm – his jaw has dropped to a depth that still amazes her – and spirits him away behind his house.

Now they have a Christmas secret together.