(HEY ALL It's been FOREVER since I updated this story, which is too bad because I love it! The thing is, I headcanon about this story a lot, but writing it all down is HARD. XP So I'll probably only write the highlights, the particularly inspired ideas.
In brief other news: I suck at responding to reviews. :( Your comments make me the happiest person alive, and I am truly in the wrong for failing to respond. I apologize for that, please don't hate me! *hides*
Since this is a special chapter, we're doing a little tribute to Off to the Races. This is a songfic too, done in a similar style. ;)
Oh, double fun fact! The song in this fic is called "Maybe This Christmas" (by Shane Dawson) and it is the origin of the title of the story!
This chapter takes place on, you guessed it, CHRISTMAS. Well…Christmas Eve, but close enough, right? (It should be said by this point Ace and Marco are already in a relationship))
~It's Christmas time and Santa's here
Making the children smile
But he's just a pedophile
So you better watch your child~
Ace had never been much of a Christmas-holiday-"fluffiness-all-around" kind of guy. It probably had to do with the fact that, in all 18 and a half years of his life, he'd never personally celebrated any of the December/winter holidays.
He'd never had anyone to celebrate with.
And the crude, perverse, holiday-oriented things he'd been asked to do around this time of year definitely didn't qualify as celebration.
It'd been right around this time of year last year that he'd been at his very worst, as well. The anniversary of his overdose was in a week. Well…he thought it was. He wasn't exactly in a state to remember the date for later reference at the time.
So, all in all, Christmas wasn't exactly his favorite.
~Christmas trees in every house
Covered in shiny lights
But they just turn brown and die,
Or set your whole house on fire~
Marco, contrarily, loved Christmas. He'd never been much of a religious, to Ace's understanding, but for all the last week he'd been smiling a lot more. It was one of the many things Ace didn't get about Marco. Didn't he see the absolutely sickening hypocrisy? It was just a chance for companies to make money. That was literally all it was. Sure there may be a few people who legitimately celebrated the birth of Christ, but Ace had read somewhere that was supposed to be in April.
Even as Ace was getting dressed he could hear Marco bustling about downstairs. Ace had asked him, multiple times, where exactly they were going tonight, but Marco only smiled a little more warmly and told him it was a surprise. Part of Ace had stiffened in trepidation at that, but it had been a year. It was time to start trusting people again, he'd convinced himself. And besides, as far as trusting went, Marco was probably the most honest person Ace had ever met.
~These are the reasons I hate the season,
But Imma give it a try.~
So Ace voluntarily pulled the loose sweater over his head, because hell. Marco deserved to smile. And even if the memories floating through Ace's head weren't pleasant, he could tell Marco's were. So, for all the times Marco had been so good to him, all the times he'd been there for him, all the things he'd done for him, Ace could endure one night of a terrible holiday.
~Maybe this year I won't be sad on Christmas
Maybe I'll have a happy holiday.~
Marco stumbled about downstairs, searching, desperately for where in hell he'd put the damn presents.
He checked everywhere, the upstairs closet, his office (still a mess with wrapping paper and left over snippets of ribbon), under his bed…he'd checked the damn pantry for Christ's sake, where in hell had he put-
As he opened the door to the coat closet beside the front door, he had to leap back, hands fumbling desperately for the cascading, brightly wrapped parcels. Well shit. Found them, at least.
Marco began organizing them slightly, sorting them by their recipient. Thatch, Izou, Jozu, Pops, Namur… He mentally checked each name off in his head, silently counting the presents before tucking them into a bag. They were infinitely easier to carry that way.
The party was a Whitebeard family tradition. Nothing pretentious or showy, everyone just got together to spend the night under one roof again. They spent the night decorating the tree, frosting sugar cookies, and laughing. It was always a warm, glowing night in Marco's memory, and each year, despite the children becoming adults and more wrinkles crinkling Oyaji's eyes when he laughed, it never changed. It was a constant, something Marco could always count on to be there to illuminate December, when it sometimes seemed the clouds meant to swath New York in white for good.
Ace was going to love this, he just knew.
~Replace my heartache and my pain
With mistletoe and candy canes,
This Christmas, could go my way.~
Ace was going to hate this, he just knew.
It wasn't Marco's fault by any means. But when Ace saw the gaudy, traditional Christmas wrapping paper, he felt his stomach clench in a way that neared nausea. How many times had he been a 'present' in the past? He didn't like to recall.
He remembered one particularly sickening encounter. Two days before Christmas, Ace had gone to work for someone, like usual. Everything was fine until he was on his way out the next morning and had seen the man's fucking Santa costume on a chair. The guy pretended to be Santa. For children. One of those "ho ho ho, and what do you want for Christmas, little Timmy?" Macy's guys. What. The. Fuck. Human depravity never failed to exceed what Ace had previously estimated to be its cap.
So as he descended the stairs, hand still habitually loosely trailing down the railing even though his legs were far strong enough to support him by now, he fought hard to hide his disgust and distaste from his face, instead painting a smile.
Fuck Christmas, he thought.
~Having fun with all your friends,
Sipping on that eggnog,
But it just looks like jizz
All over your upper lips.~
The car ride to the grocery store (Marco had received a call from Thatch claiming they'd need a "fuckton" more eggnog, Marco being sure to keep the conversation discreet so as not to spoil the surprise for Ace) was occupied by the usual blend of poppy, traditional, and various choirs covering the all of 12 apparently entirely irreplaceable Christmas carols. Ace never understood why no other, newer, less obnoxious songs. He didn't grumble, though. Today wasn't about him. If Marco liked hearing the same songs on endless repeat for a few days, Ace could stomach it.
Well, at least until "Baby it's Cold Outside" by Bing Crosby came on. Then Ace couldn't help the tiny snort of disdain. Marco seemed to be in too good a mood to get actually upset about it, though, and only arched an eyebrow.
"What, not a classics fan?" he asked, lips quirking into a smirk. Ace glanced at him, then returned his eyes to the window. Shit. Well… he tried to come up with an excuse that didn't suck and wasn't the truth, but the look Marco was giving him said he saw through it and expected nothing less than the full truth and nothing but the truth. Now. Ace sighed in mild defeat.
"…I was just thinking about how this is the first song that actually reminds me of any of the Christmas' I've ever had," he admitted, eyes flicking down to avoid seeing Marco's reaction. At this point, he doubted he'd ever see any of the disgust or judgment he'd been conditioned to expect come from Marco, but old habits die hard and he still almost expected every little truth he told to be instantly followed with a title like 'disgusting whore' and a look of disdain to match.
Marco did blink in surprise, eyebrows shooting a little higher, but no hardness darkened his face. He wasn't quite sure how to respond, though, and remained quiet for a time. He didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to know what kinds of memories darkened Ace's previous Christmas'. Regardless, it wasn't like he could exactly change them. The best he could do was try to give Ace something to replace all of those bad memories. He smiled, mentally. If anyone could do it, it was his family.
~House made out of gingerbread
Cookies like Christmas trees
Giving you heart disease
And type 2 diabetes.~
When they finally did arrive, the sunlight, diluted as it was by thick clouds, was beginning to fade. Ace didn't know what he'd been expecting, but the large house that met his eyes certainly wasn't it.
He could see windows illuminated from within by what must have been candlelight, from the warm, yellow-white glow. He studied the house feeling something akin to nervousness and that familiar black worm of old terror twisting in his guts. What were they doing here? Nonetheless, as Marco exited the car, pausing only to withdraw a series of large paper bags holding all manner of wrapped presents and handing off a bag containing several large cartons of eggnog to Ace, Ace obediently followed suit.
When they reached the heavy front door, Marco was too laden down by the bags to knock. "Hey, would you mind opening the door?" he asked Ace, nodding, face still a grimace of effort. Ace had offered to carry some of the gifts, but Marco had insisted he could handle it. Ace's brows furrow in confusion.
"…Open it? Shouldn't I…knock first?" he'd asked, unsure, nerves and growing anxiety clawing at his heart. Marco smiled at him warmly.
"Believe me, nobody will hear a knock. It's better to just go in." He was excited to see what Ace would think of his family's particular brand of Christmas. Not only that, it would be Ace's first time seeing them all together. He'd met the majority of them separately by now, but there would still be a few new faces to Ace. Namely Jozu, Blamenco, Rakuyo, and Namur. He didn't doubt for a second that they'd like Ace, though.
Ace hesitated only a moment longer, and when Marco nodded a second assurance, opened the large door. A billow of snowflakes accompanied them as they dashed into the house, shutting the door before too much cold air could follow them in.
Ace had turned to shut the door behind them, Marco sagging further into the interior of the house to drop off the multitude of gifts. Despite the fact that his back was still turned, Ace could already tell this was a very, very relaxed party. He could hear the rambunctious sound of drunken laughter, could smell spiced rum, eggnog, and baked goods, as well as something savory, no doubt dinner.
"MARCO HAS PRESENTS." That voice was undoubtedly Thatch's, swelling to bursting with near childish excitement, and may or may not have cracked at the end.
Ace turned around just in time to see Marco swarmed by a veritable mob of people, those already drunk too inebriated to skid to a stop before collision, nearly bowling him over. Instantly the paper bags were torn entirely apart (Ace understood now why Marco had insisted on using disposable bags instead of carrying the gifts in something sturdier and easier to manage than 10+ paper bags) and within seconds the presents had been confiscated, being spirited off to God knows where. Very few people remained in the vicinity. Only an entirely ruffled looking Marco, an elegant, dignified Izou, and a…probably more than somewhat drunken Thatch who clutched his gift to his chest as if it might be ripped away.
Izou approached Marco quietly, extending a slim hand, to which Marco passed a carefully wrapped box. He smiled down at it warmly. "Thanks, Marco." Izou turned to Ace. "In explanation, presents here operate on a strictly 'finders keepers' policy. The recipient's claim to a gift is only as permanent as the marker their name is written on it in, or how well you hide it." Ace glanced at Thatch, who, drunk, actually hissed at him, clutching his gift tighter before retreating, peering at Ace suspiciously from around a corner. Ace couldn't help the burst of laughter. Let it be said that any man, with enough alcohol, is above hissing, he thought. Still smiling, he raised a curious eyebrow at Izou.
"…Nobody steals your presents?" Izou gave a mischievous smirk.
"That's because nobody wants the things I get as presents. Except me." Izou nodded his head, indicating the house and the still disappeared occupants. "Don't know if you noticed but we're pretty male dominated here. So they don't have much need of high heels or makeup." People were beginning to filter back in, having safely stashed their gifts. They'd traveled in droves through the wide entryway, but now a few filtered back. The epicenters of occupation seemed to be buried deeper in the house, as there had definitely been more people earlier.
"Under the tree is a safe zone, of course," Izou added. He smiled warmly at Ace and Marco. "Now come on in! Take of your shoes, though, I don't want to have to clean the carpet again." Marco toed off his shoes, looking slightly less disheveled than before, having somewhat tamed the bird's nest that had been his hair after the stampede. Ace followed suit, intending to stick by Marco's side for the majority – if not all – of the evening. With just one look you could tell Marco was entirely at ease, entirely at home. Ace was…decidedly not. He'd never been in a setting like this, and on top of that, he'd seen faces he was sure he didn't recognize.
To be honest, Ace was a little scared.
This situation was entirely foreign to him, this setting so completely unlike any he'd ever been in. He didn't know how to behave. He didn't know who he was supposed to talk to, what he was supposed to say… And what if he did something wrong? This was Marco's family, people obviously important to him. Ace couldn't mess up this night for him, his opinions on Christmas be damned. Ace felt a tiny shiver, another round of unbidden memories flashing through his mind. This time last year he'd been at a very, very different Christmas party.
He'd been high as a kite at the time.
He'd been taken there by…who again? Ace couldn't recall a name or a face, only the sensations, the blur of colors and emotions and the pounding of blood in his ears loud so loud… Ace clenched his eyes shut and firmly shook his head once. Izou had already turned away to lead them further in, Marco following, and Ace trailed after, hovering by Marco's side, keeping him carefully on his right. He almost wanted to hold on to Marco, to anchor himself in this Christmas, this present. The past scared and hurt him more than he could say.
~These are the reasons I hate the season,
But I'mma give it a try.~
When they emerged into the living room, Ace blinked in mixed surprise and wonder.
He'd expected the ceiling to be taller, for there to be some enormous tree stretching up 20, maybe 25 feet. He'd expected delicate, careful decorations. He'd expected something grand and impressive and jaw-dropping.
Instead, the ceiling was no taller than any other. The tree huddled unobtrusively in the corner, decorated only in sporadically placed yellow-white lights. On a nearby table, a multitude of ornaments rested, organized in some system Ace couldn't deduce. People milled about, sitting comfortably on the large, deep couches arranged in a loose arch around the fireplace. Some were even sprawled on the floor, bundled in blankets, sipping at steaming drinks. Faded, old iridescent lights draped the walls in strings, their warm rainbow light painting the room faintly with their colors. The ceiling lights somewhat diminished their effect, but they still added a friendly element of color, the near tackiness making them seem friendly and childlike. An almost laughable amount of presents cowered under the tree, stacked desperately on top of each other to remain under the protection of the branches. The presents Marco had brought were a mere fraction of the ones there.
The kitchen was directly jointed to the living room, and more raucous celebration emanated from there. Ace could see a crock-pot filled with what he assumed to be apple cider, based on the smell, and a stack of empty glasses rested nearby, ready for use. Littering the counter were also some empty eggnog containers and a few bottles of rum. There was some kind of card game happening at a smaller table, but the main table, a sturdy, weathered, kind-looking thing, was reserved solely for sugar cookies and the decorating thereof. There appeared to be some kind of contest going on as to who could make the most outlandishly detailed cookie, of which Thatch was the reigning champion, despite his drunkenness.
Ace swallowed thickly. It was apparently clear this was not anything like anything he'd ever experienced.
~Maybe this year I won't be sad on Christmas
Maybe I'll have a happy holiday.
Replace my heartache and my pain
With mistletoe and candy canes
This Christmas could go my way~
As soon as he'd entered the area, he was instantly approached by a smiling Vista who greeted him warmly. Ace did his best to respond in kind, trying not to show just how much he was internally freaking out. Everyone seemed so at ease, but he was the stranger here, the odd one out. Should he be as relaxed as they all seemed to be? Should he maintain some kind of formality, as he didn't technically belong? He realized Vista was asking something and zoned back in, trying to push back his nerves.
"-ir. So if you don't mind, could you kick Thatch's ass for me? I've seen you draw! You can do better than him, right?" Ace glanced between Vista and where Thatch was sitting at the head of the table, triumphantly finishing decorating a snowflake-shaped cookie. Vista began herding him towards the table before Ace could protest. "He's really getting sloshed so it shouldn't be too hard. And I really, really want to win this bet." Before Ace knew it, he was seated at the Christmas cookie table, surrounded by a variety of shaped cookies, various colors of frosting, innumerable shapes, types, and colors of sprinkles, and all the different piping he could possibly want. Thatch had turned to look at him, a look of comical surprise on his face.
"You…You traitor!" His expression shifted to one of melodramatic hurt. He actually looked like he might cry. "I have thoughted friendliness!" Ace's eyebrows rose. That…was pretty fucking drunk. Before he could argue that Thatch was no longer in a state to compete, Vista was by his side.
"Okay, the rules are simple. You have 5 minutes to decorate any cookie you want with any design or colors you want. Izou will judge who wins after time is up. If you don't finish, you're immediately disqualified. Got it?" He didn't give Ace the chance to agree. "Okay, go!"
For a moment, Ace froze in indecision. It wasn't really his place to be participating, was it? Vista said it was fine, but did everyone think so? Oh shit Thatch had already picked a cookie, and while he still looked drunk enough to pass out, his hands weren't shaking and he already had a first layer of frosting down. Okay. No time to think about this shit, then. Ace felt his competitive spirit flaring up and snatched a Christmas tree shaped cookie, setting it on the table before him and quickly smothering it in green frosting, leaving only the little nub of a stump at the bottom bare, the pale tan of the cookie making an appropriate color for wood.
Everything else faded into a blur as Ace decorated. Carefully manipulating the butter-knife, he flicked it up every few centimeters, giving the frosting a spiky texture to look like needles. Once that was done to his satisfaction, he reached for some sugar pearls of various colors. He carefully drew out 10 metallic gold ones, setting them aside. Next he reached for the red piping, carefully placing dollops of it sporadically around the tree. Next he carefully tapped a pearl into each dollop, leaving a shiny gold ornament-looking thing with a little halo of red. Next came the yellow piping, carefully traced in lines across the tree to give the illusion of tinsel. That done, and knowing he had 2 minutes left at best, he snatched up the white and yellow piping, as well as some sparkly white sprinkles. Using the white, he carefully frosted the tip of each branch, giving the tree the illusion of snow. He gently pressed in some of the sparkly sprinkles to further the illusion, carefully feathering the edge of the white piping so it faded into the green and looked as realistic as frosting could. After that, he took a tiny, star shaped cookie and, after carefully splitting the bottom half off so it wasn't as thick, covered it in yellow piping, placing a few white pearls in the center before using a friendly dollop of white frosting to glue it to the top of the tree.
Once done he slapped the knife and pipings to the table, raising his hands to show he was done. Not a second later the alarm signaling time went off.
Ace glanced at Thatch, who had finished a bit before him, apparently. He'd decorated an ornament-shaped cookie, red, with delicate white pipe work that looked nearly silver with the mixed grey-and-sparkly sprinkles he'd pushed into it. He was smiling at Ace dumbly, face glowing with alcohol, Ace's apparent 'betrayal' forgotten.
Izou approached the table, expression of the utmost seriousness on his face.
Thatch, giggling, turned to look at Izou. "…You look like an owl that discovered lipstick." Izou froze, standing near the head of the table, and Ace flinched, seeing the expression that overtook Izou's face. Thatch was way too drunk for this, or even to realize the gravity of what he'd just said. Izou smiled sweetly, turning to look at Thatch, placing one hand on the back of his neck.
Without warning, Izou slammed his head down onto the table and, more specifically, ensuring his face collided with the cookie he'd just spent five minutes creating. It crumbled beneath his forehead, frosting and sprinkles sticking to his cheek and nose. "Ace wins," Izou deadpanned. "Because my piece of shit brother doesn't even begin to understand beauty, be it in cookies or otherwise." And suddenly, despite the laughter around him, Ace felt a cold overtake his heart, and his smile was forced.
~I've never seen reindeer fly
I've never heard the sleigh bells ring
I've never seen a snowman come to life
I've never heard the angels sing
But I hope, and I pray
That maybe this Christmas day
That'll change.~
Ace, after politely excusing himself from the cookie-decorating table, had found his way out onto the back deck. The air was stunningly cold, tiny snowflakes occasionally dotting the air. He leaned against the railing of the deck, breathing in the biting air and wishing it would do something for the ache in his chest.
You don't belong.
Ace's eyes fell closed, a single warm tear sliding down his right cheek. It was true. He didn't belong. This wasn't for him. This was for the good people, for the whole people. He wasn't even close to being counted among them. Ace's fingers clutched desperately at the wood. He didn't deserve this. He could never be a part of this, not after what he was, what he is. The things he'd done could never be wiped away, and his Christmas' could never be anything but what they had been because that was all he deserved.
Ace didn't have a family.
Ace wasn't a part of this one, either.
Inside the house, he could see the family within decorating the tree. Could hear them laughing and talking and loving one another. Ace swallowed thickly. This was why he was different. He couldn't love. Not like that. He didn't know how. He didn't know how those people found all that warmth within themselves and shared it. He didn't have that kind of warmth in himself, nor did he know if he had the courage to share it with others. Ace wasn't capable of love, in his own estimation. Too much of a coward to give, too hollow to have to give away in the first place.
He could see, through the window, that they were decorating the tree now.
The system of organization on the table made sense, now. Each little group was one person's to put on the tree. All the ornaments in that group were gifts from their siblings – some from the very day they were born – to show what they most loved about them, or that they felt represented them.
It was beautiful, and it was something Ace would never have.
~Maybe this year I won't be sad on Christmas
Maybe I'll have a happy holiday.~
Ace heard quiet footsteps approaching through the snow and hurriedly wiped any lingering tears off of his face. The footsteps stopped just beside him, so close he could even feel a little of the radiating body heat of the person. They were on Ace's left, and if he looked he'd be able to see who it was. But he didn't need to look.
"Shouldn't you be inside?" Ace asked, voice thick. He was trying to swallow the painful lump in his throat, the tears that wanted to rise again.
"Shouldn't you?" Marco responded softly. Ace swallowed hard and, after a moment, shook his head softly.
"…No. I shouldn't. But you should," he said. Marco seemed to sense his current fragility.
"Why not you too?" he asked quietly. Ace tried to bite back the shuddering sob that tightened his chest, but was unsuccessful.
"I-I don't deserve to be in there," Ace said unevenly. The tears were falling fast and hot down his face, falling into the small amount of snow on the railing and making tiny craters. Marco turned to face him more fully.
"Ace…" he said gently, placing one hand lightly on his back. Ace shuddered, but the warmth of Marco's hand was welcome, and he found himself turning, desperately clinging to Marco, burying his face in his chest. Marco placed his other hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair softly. "Shh…Shh…talk to me, Ace. Why don't you think you-"
"You don't get it!" Ace snapped into his chest. Another sob wracked his frame. "It was t-today!" His breath was hitching horribly in his throat, making speech nigh impossible, and memories flooded back, everything he didn't want to see, everything he wished he wasn't. "Today is wh-why I don't deserve it!" He clung to Marco desperately. His voice dropped to near silence.
"…Today w-was the first ti-time I let a client give me drugs." He shook lightly, clinging to Marco and dreading the moment he knew was coming, the moment Marco would shove him away.
~Replace my heartache and my pain
With mistletoe and candy canes
This Christmas, could go my way.~
When Marco gripped his shoulders lightly and pulled him gently off his chest, Ace felt his whole world crashing around him. He was right. He knew it. Marco couldn't accept something like Ace, especially not into something as warm and glowing and right as his family, as this one time they got to all be together. Ace stared at the ground, tears still falling freely. He couldn't bear to see Marco's face. Marco released his shoulders only to replace his hands on Ace's face tenderly, palms pressed against his cheeks. He pulled delicately on Ace's face until he was forced to look up at him. Marco used his thumbs to swipe at the tears still slipping from Ace's eyes.
"Ace listen to me. None of that matters." He was smiling at Ace like he was special, like he was precious. "What you've done before or what's been done to you doesn't matter to me and it doesn't matter to them. All that matters is who you are. And I love the person who you are. And if you show it to them, they'll all love you too." Marco chuckled, brief and quiet. "There was a fight over who got to eat the cookie you made." One of his hands stroked quietly at the side of Ace's hair. "Thatch was outraged when he thought I hadn't gotten you a present." Ace felt new tears brimming in his eyes. "Izou must have called me ten times this week to make sure you were coming tonight too." Ace's heart felt light in a way he'd never known. "Vista didn't even actually have a bet, he just wanted you to feel welcome. And…" Marco leaned forward, kissing the tears off of Ace's face, the gesture as delicate and tender as starlight, "…Pops got you a very special present. So come inside? Please?"
Ace swallowed, smiling, and nodded, fighting hard to blink away his tears.
~Maybe this year I won't be sad on Christmas
Maybe I'll have a happy holiday.
Replace my heartache and my pain
Let's just dance the night away
This Christmas is going my way.~
Marco led Ace back into the house by the hand, and upon Ace's reentry he was instantly enveloped by the crowd, everyone smiling and clapping him on the back and asking him where he'd been. Marco released his hand and retreated into the crowd, Ace losing sight of him.
"PORTGAS D. ACE," Whitebeard's voice bellowed from somewhere closer to the tree. Instantly the crowd shifted, giving Ace a clear path to where Thatch, Izou, and Whitebeard stood. Ace approached, a warm, nervous energy quickening his heart. When he stood just before Whitebeard, the enormous man extended his hand, palm up.
In it rested a small, wrapped box.
The paper was green and red striped, so glaringly 'Christmas' it was shocking. It was wrapped, as if to defy the Christmasiness of the paper, in a gold-yellow bow that stood out harshly and almost repulsively against the green and red. And Ace couldn't have loved it more.
Ace felt his heart tighten with excitement and wonder as he accepted the gift. He pulled gently at the knot in the ribbon, untying it carefully. He quietly tucked the ribbon into his pocket. Something told him he'd want something to remember this night forever by. The paper went next. Ace, sensing the significance of the gift, decided not to tear it apart haphazardly, as he might have, instead tearing it carefully, never inverting the box. The box beneath was simple enough, creamy white. The kind of thing large jewelry usually came in. It was deeper than any jewelry box, though, and Ace honestly wasn't sure what came in a box like that.
He pulled off the lid and felt his heart stop.
It was a beautiful piece of shaped, colored glass. Red and orange and yellow merged and twirled with one another, light and seeming to nearly glow on their own. The piece was so lifelike, Ace nearly felt it was going to spring to life in his hands. From the top of the glass was a delicate gold chain, attached to a sturdy gold hook.
It was an ornament, in the shape of a flame.
The glass flickered and caught the light from the various candles and the fireplace itself and glowed with it, seeming to give off a warmth and light of its own. It felt alive, and as delicate as a newborn bird.
Ace looked up at Whitebeard and he hoped his face and eyes contained everything he felt, because he knew his voice had failed him. Whitebeard was smiling at him softly. With the ornament seemed to come a question, though. And it was what the gathered people were there to see. What Ace would say. The room was dead silent, full of excitement and hope.
"Thanks Pops," Ace managed to choke out, and as he said the words he thought he felt his heart burst in his chest and wondered that he could live with it as broken with joy as it was. The room exploded into cheers, and as Ace found a place for his ornament on the tree, someone put in a Christmas CD, non-lyrical. Ace's ornament ended up hanging next to a stunningly beautiful blue, peacock-like bird similarly formed in glass, right near the top of the tree. Upon finishing this task, once they could be sure he was no longer holding a fragile glass object, Ace was instantly swarmed, everyone surrounding and congratulating him. Ace felt like he had been reborn. People hugged him, shook his hand, Thatch, drunk as he was, even kissed him on the cheek before promptly collapsing on the couch and falling asleep.
Finally, after everyone had been around to give him their own version of a welcome, there was only one person left. Ace's eyes turned from the previous congratulations and caught.
Marco was smiling at him like he was the only beautiful thing in the world, and as he drew up in front of Ace, he bent, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Welcome to the family," he said, looking the happiest he ever had. Ace grinned at him, and as a new song came on, grabbed Marco's hands playfully.
"Just dance with me."
(So? Didja like it? I know it's a day late, but my family was obviously spending some time together on Christmas day, so I was busy. Hence why I'm posting at 2:30 in the morning on December 26th. If there's one thing you can say for me, it's my ability to stay up to absurd times. I really hope you enjoyed it, and if you'd let me know what your favorite part is, I'd much appreciate it! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, etc. This was the first truly fluffy chapter of the story (although I guess there was a bit of sad, but it ended, right?), and I did my best to get you all to start spewing Disney songs. But I need practice, obviously, and I'll get better with time, so if you could let me know where I could improve and/or what you really liked, it'd be much appreciated and help me progress as a writer! Thanks for reading!
-Stuff'nStuff)