A/N: I meant to cross-post this before, y'know, Christmas happened, but such is life!
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Eddy's heart beat like a bongo drum, syncing up oddly well with the festive humming that was drifting out of the kitchen. There was a clatter as dishes were rearranged and then the tap seemed to roar to life. Eddy, pressed against the wall just around the corner, shot a look back at Ed. His friend and compatriot was hunched over, biting his fingers up to the knuckle, and watching Eddy closely for directions.
Good. If he followed along, they might just pull this off.
Using the sound of running water as a cover, and relying on Double Dee's back being turned to the doorway to use the sink, Eddy waved at Ed and crept past on the very tips of his toes in one long, thigh-burning stride. Ed chose to follow by flattening himself against the carpet and scurrying like something out of a nightmare, but the important thing was that he did it quietly. They waited, listening, but when Double Dee turned off the tap, it was to go back to his work. Unseen, Ed and Eddy shared a thumbs up.
Keeping in time with each other, they made their way down the decked hall to the living room, focused on the twinkling string lights at the end of their tunnel vision. All the time, they kept their ears perked; they'd already refused to have any hand in the fruitcake that Double Dee was making, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to call them in to help anyway.
They were at the living room doorway when Eddy's hands started to sweat. This was it. Double Dee had hidden his gifts like a squirrel hid nuts; Ed and Eddy had been half sure that even he wouldn't be able to find them again. But, lo, there they had been when they'd dragged themselves home out of the Christmas Eve hustle and bustle, filling in the empty space that had made a mockery of their tree all these weeks as they had always been meant to.
Double Dee had batted their hands away when they'd rushed in for a look and a shake, of course. He'd been unmoved by Ed's wibbly lip and Eddy's suggestion that he didn't care what they'd gotten him alike. They had huffed and groaned and only when Double Dee nodded, satisfied with their performance, and turned his back did they share a grin between them.
Back in the present, Eddy checked behind them to make sure the coast was clear and elbowed Ed in the side to quiet the giggling that had bubbled out of him. He glared at the pout he got in return and made a series of complicated gestures. These were to say that they were going to move in on their targets, sitting oh so very unaware, in a series of steps on his mark.
Ed's eyes followed every movement, face set like stone. Anticipation stirred through him as the gestures came to their end and Eddy figured later that he only had himself to blame for not realizing what was about to happen. In hindsight, he probably should have gone over the signals with Ed instead of making them up on the spot.
And in Ed's defense, when he burst into motion, he still managed to do so with a silence that really wasn't to be expected of six-foot-four of gangly bumbler being launched wholesale across a room. If he hadn't run up against the silver bells dangling from the lowest branches as he tucked himself in to land among the colorfully and carefully wrapped gifts, he might even have gotten away without any sound but displaced air.
Wait a minute, Eddy found himself thinking as the tinkling of the bells stabbed him in the ears like hooks and twisted, is that why he hung those there!?
"Ed, wait!" Eddy whisper-shouted– shouted more than whispered, since his shot nerves had taken his sense of volume down with them.
"Wait, indeed," said a terribly unimpressed voice from just behind Eddy.
"Oh, uh," Eddy stuttered, jumping half into the room in his surprise and turning a grin, weakened by how wide it stretched, around on Double Dee. "Hey! Fancy meeting you here!"
"In my own living room," said Double Dee, words as flat as the tight line of his mouth. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows were hiding even higher than usual under his hat, though there was an air of triumph to him. "Whatever are the odds."
"Hey, you're the math guy," Eddy shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He turned back in Ed's direction and contrived to look shocked to see him curled up behind the pile of gifts. He gasped, hands coming to his cheeks. "Ed! What are you doing?"
"Uh…" Ed looked at him like a puppy that had lost its bone. When Eddy only cringed and wiggled his fingers in an attempt to get across abort mission! (they really should've gone over the signals), he sputtered a few more sounds before dropping his head like a rock on top of the box he had cradled in his arms and pretending to snore.
Double Dee hummed long and low, mouth pulling even tighter.
"Gentlemen," he said in that disappointed parent voice he had, "need I remind you that Christmas is in a mere three hours and two minutes?"
"You don't have to remind me, Double Dee!" Ed chirped, perking up right out of his fake slumber and dancing in place. "I'm keeping count!"
"Then surely you understand that you haven't long yet to wait–"
A chorus of groans interrupted him. Eddy threw his arms in the air, imploring to the brightly shining star that adorned the top of their tree, while Ed flopped back down into the gifts like a sack of laundry which had given up.
"I hate waiting," Eddy grumbled, his arms falling across his chest. "And it's gotta be Christmas already somewhere anyhow."
"Eddy– Ed," Double Dee implored. "Please. Won't opening gifts– together– be even better for having waited until morning? Just think of it– sharing breakfast as the light of the first Christmas at our own abode shines in on us through the frosted windows. The three of us gathered around our very own tree, exchanging tokens of our esteem and affection." He sighed, hands clasped under his chin. He beamed out at them and spread his arms as if to embrace the very room they'd all decorated together. "I bid you, gentlemen, imagine it. If you find yourselves unconvinced by the thoughts of our peaceful joy come morning, by all means– help yourselves to the presents now."
A beat went by as Ed and Eddy locked eyes. Double Dee was already sighing like a deflating balloon into one hand when they squealed out in glee and fell upon the gifts like beggars upon a fine meal. Eddy executed a neat dive into the pile while Ed snatched up the box he'd pretended to sleep on like it was a teddy bear. Double Dee watched over the hand he now had pressed over his mouth while they sniffed out the boxes with their names on them and tore in.
"Oh boy oh boy oh boy," Ed chanted as strips of wrapping paper rained down around them like confetti. "Ohh, Double Dee, you shouldn't have!" He flipped the lid off his chosen box and his smile fell at once, head cocking alarmingly as if to try to catch it. He turned the box upside-down and watched as nothing at all fell out. "Oh. You didn't."
"What gives?" Eddy demanded beside him as he scrounged around in his own box full of air. He wormed himself in head and shoulders before popping back up to glare over the side. Double Dee's eyes were shining, shoulders shaking; his hand over his mouth was doing a poor job of covering his smile. "If you tell me that the real gifts are the friends we made along the way…"
Double Dee laughed outright at that. "Gifts though you both are," he said, strutting his way over, smile becoming more of a smirk with every step, "no." He looked down on them both from over his folded arms. "I anticipated your childish antics and planned accordingly. Oh, but they did brighten up the decor, didn't they?" He tutted and tsked and made short work of scooping up the shredded wrapping paper into the empty boxes, turning back down the hall once he had all the debris in hand. Over his shoulder, he recited the Christmas morning rules that he'd convinced them that they'd agreed to somewhere along the way. "Breakfast at seven, gentlemen, and opening presents– the real presents– at seven-thirty. I look forward to seeing you both there."