Dec 25
To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with. – Mark Twain
Ducky could not recall ever feeling so content.
Christmas Day. A time for celebration and family. A time for friends and gifts. A time for giving and receiving. A time for fun and laughter. This year he had invited his friends around to his house, aware that if left to their own devices each would spend Christmas alone.
Timothy and Abigail had arrived first. He had not been surprised – he doubted Abigail had managed a wink of sleep last night and had probably forced Timothy to stay up with her as well. The Goth had been her usual excitable self, despite her not having had any Caf-Pow at Timothy's insistence.
The squeal of brakes had announced Ziva's arrival, with a very green Anthony riding shotgun. They had spent the morning arguing until their fearless leader's arrival, Jennifer in tow. A round of headslaps later, everyone settled down.
Christmas dinner had been perfect. Abigail had brought the cranberry sauce, Timothy the 'pigs in blankets', Anthony the roast potatoes, Ziva the vegetables and Jethro the dessert. Jennifer had been banned from bringing anything after almost burning down her kitchen the previous year while cooking pasta. Ducky did not want to be responsible for any injuries.
He smiled as he surveyed his friends. This moment in time was perfect.
A/N: Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. *in my defence, it's 0130 my time and I seriously need sleep*