Window Shopping:
Christmas: The most wonderful time of the year. A catch phrase which is, sadly, relative to one's point-of-view. If you enjoy dealing with opulent consumers over an over-priced novelty Santa dolls that would only serve as idle decorations to be lost in the darkest regions of the attic; if you get a thrill from haggling with vendors consumed by greed and numbed by the mindless rabble; or if you're just one of those masochistic types who get giddy at the slightest inkling of human suffering, then yes, this would be the most wonderful time of the year.
The young man huffed, his breath forming a gray plume in the frosty air. Timothy Drake didn't expect the present company around him to understand his less-than-exuberant take on the `most holy of nights'. But, then again, most of them probably didn't have to worry about recurring nightmares involving Joker's Christmas-themed rampages of old.
Metropolis was bustling with all kinds of holiday merriment. Santas on every corner jingled their tiny little bells in hopes of fetching loose change for the needy. Red-and-green banners and ribbons streamed the luminescent street lamps as far as the human (and Kryptonian) eye could see. The mega screen in the center of the square played all the latest advertisements for all the latest somethingoranother and whatchamacallit.
*And to think, people actually BUY that junk.*
Being rich, the anxieties of Christmas shopping never really bothered him much. Though lack of monetary funds (what with his father's company having gone belly-up recently) ensured that he WOULD have to be a little more conservative this year, it still wasn't anything he lost sleep over. Still, shopping for his friends, rich or not, was often an adventure in-and-of itself. Impulse was the easiest to shop for, as his ideal gifts were comparable with that of a five year old's. Unfortunately, so was his interest in them. He had lost count as to how many times he had stepped on a toy that, no more than a week before, had been the focus of al his youthful exuberance. Superboy USED to be just as easy: Sports magazines that displayed as many scantily clad women as legally possible. But, against all odds, Kon had actually started to MATURE over the past year or so. Now he was actually asking for REAL gifts. And he shuddered at some of the requests Anita had made in her list (he didn't think he could FIND half that stuff she asked for in the continental US).
Of all the Christmas lists that the gang had exchanged for each other, the one that most tickled him was Secret's. Rather than WRITE what she wanted, she DREW what she most desired (and not a bad drawing at that, too). In the picture she wore a fuzzy red Santa cap atop her dusty-blonde head (which would do nothing to block the cold); she wore the cutest little red Santa jacket, which was buttoned tightly across her upper torso, its length falling to the middle of her thighs, and adorned with fuzzy white fluff balls and fuzzy white trim, all of which accentuated her ever-so petit figure. Completing the ensemble were a pair of white, knee-high stockings and black platforms. All in all, the entire ensemble came to a total of $196.98 (charged, of course). But it was the one gift he didn't mind buying. Visions of the young girl bouncing joyously as she modeled her new wardrobe danced about his head as he made his way onward. (Why couldn't everyone else be that easy to please?)
"Oooo..." A young child swooned, his face pressed against a shop window. A sliver of drool seeped from the side of his lips as he ogled the latest window display.
"Bart, don't drool," the child's mother moaned. "You'll freeze to the window again." Tim halfway-smiled, thinking about a young speedster of the same name, and continued on.
Cars zoomed by at speeds better suited for summer conditions, unconcerned about the half-inch layer of brown slush and ice left over from the salt trucks. Tim sighed, backing away from the edge of the sidewalk as yet another spray plastered the pedestrians.
"%^&$!" a Santa cursed, his red suit now an Earthy brown. "This thing was a %^#% rental!"
"So much for this coat," a young girl (kinda cute at that) bemoaned as she gazed down at her now-sullied coat. A shame too, Tim thought. It looked expensive.
All through the night air Bing crooned about how he was dreaming of his Christmas being a certain color. Tim, on the other hand, wondered what happened to all that `Global Warming' the environmentalists kept promising.
*I didn't think you Bat-types got cold.* In his head he could hear Kon poke fun at his apparent discomfort.
*I could lace all your clothes with Kryptonite without you ever knowing, you know that.* would have been his reply, had Kon been there. Thankfully, when he went Christmas shopping, he had the common sense to do it alone.
The heavens opened up, and from their outstretched arms a curtain of white started to fall. Youth and elderly intermingled and competed for marked down novelty items and over-priced gizmos and gadgets that would serve as over-priced paperweights in the months to follow. The snow fluttered about them, the tiny flakes dancing about in the wintry wind, as Timothy Drake suppressed the urge to moan out loud. He was TRYING to enjoy himself. He really was. Seeing the glimmer in everyone else's eyes as they gawked at some of the gaudiest pieces of junk was both amusing and saddening. He wanted to get into that same carefree holiday spirit. Closing his eyes, he forced his mind to draw upon some happy moment involving the season to get him in the mood. He saw an empty house and a Christmas Day unwrapping presents he had to buy for himself. He saw a cackling clown dangling a child over the edge of a giant tank of boiling eggnog. He saw frozen eyes and icy cries. But he found nothing that would constitute a happy memory.
Shaking his head, Tim made his way onward. He had finished half his shopping already, and was quite adamant about getting it all out of the way before some maniac of mad scientist or whatever decided to pull something stupid and ruin it all...
"Gotcha!" A voice squealed behind him. Darkness invaded, as his woolen cap was forcefully brought down over his face. Years of training taking over, he cartwheeled into the air, bounding over the individual responsible for his impaired vision. Removing his hat, he found himself face to face with a very stunned Olympic gold medalist.
"Cissie?!?" Tim responded, bringing his hand up to his chest in an effort to mentally force his heart to start back up.
"Paranoid much?" She replied, giggling a bit. Out of everyone in the group, Cissie seemed most accustomed to his feats of agility. The fact that her butt was firmly planted to the snowy ground, however, was clear indication that even SHE wasn't completely immune to being startled.
"Don't laugh," he said, offering a hand. "Last time I went shopping I was kidnapped by some guy who thought he was the reincarnation of King Tut."
"Really?" She asked.
"Not really. But it could happen." She playfully smacked his shoulder, and he playfully pretended that it hurt. He was surprised she recognized him. Even though he'd shown his face to the group a LONG time ago, no one seemed to ever recognize him out of costume. Not that he ever complained, mind you. But it would've been nice to know that they paid at least THAT much attention.
"What brings you to Metropolis?" She inquired. "I figured you'd do all your shopping in Gotham."
"*Sigh* Every time I try to shop or do anything REMOTELY normal in that town some maniac tries to blow me up or kidnap me or God knows what else. I figured I'd stand a better chance of getting my shopping done if I was as far AWAY from Gotham as possible."
"Makes sense," was all she said.
"Doing some Christmas shopping with your mom?" Tim inquired.
"Psh! Hardly. She can't even make up her mind what she wants from the value menu, let alone what to buy for Christmas. No, this year I decided to go on my own. Figured I'd actually get some shopping done that way." Tim noticed that she was making a great deal of effort to try and shield a sizable bag behind her tiny figure. It didn't take the world's greatest detective to figure out why.
"And would that be MY gift you're trying to hide from me?" He joked, pretending like he was trying to snatch the bag from her. She squealed and nudged him away. He pressed on a bit more, and got a face full of snow for his troubles. The freezing slush didn't exactly feel pleasant against his bare skin, but hearing her laughing did ease the stinging somewhat.
Out of all his friends, Tim admired Cissie the most. She had stood at the edge...and walked away. She had taken responsibility for her actions and given up the game, and, because of it, had achieved goals that not even she had thought possible. Walking away from the super hero business not only saved her sanity, but reunited her with her mother and opened up so many worlds of possibilities. There was a part of him that envied her because of it, even longed to do the same.
But THAT was a luxury that he could not afford.
The pair walked along, though with no real purpose or destination in mind. Metropolis was a truly different entity from Gotham, Tim noted absently. Certainly cleaner. And it was definitely a nice change of pace, meandering about the sidewalk shops instead of the mall, which had become the social norm. There was just something to shopping in the open air that had a somewhat romantic appeal to it (though a sudden rush of icy wind reaffirmed why shopping inside a gigantic megaplex had become the socially preferred way to shop). He recalled shopping around this very same area once with his father (or, at least, he liked to PRETEND it was his father) when he was younger. He stopped in front of where the old toy store once stood, vaguely remembering staring at all the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figures, posed in such a way that it almost like they had been frozen in the midst of one heckuva battle.
"See anything you like?" she inquired. He shook himself out of the daze. To his embarrassment he found himself staring at a Victoria Secret's store.
"S-sorry," he stammered, his cheeks suddenly becoming very hot. She chuckled, nudging him in the rib cage, letting him know that she was just teasing him.
"C'mon," she said, motioning to a small café. "Let's get something to drink. My treat."
Tim smiled, and nodded in acceptance.
********
"I love this time of year, don't you?" the young Olympian sighed joyously, finishing off her mocha. The pair leaned inside the doorway of an old- style bookstore, taking some shelter from the winds as they sipped from their prospective beverages.
"Hmph," her companion rebuffed, taking a careful sip of his drink.
She cocked an eye at him. "Are all you Bat-types this grumpy, or is it just you?"
"It's one of the conditions that came with getting a cool costume: You have to swear against having fun. It was either that, or I wear the original Robin costume."
"The one with the elf shoes?"
"`Fraid so."
"But I think you'd look CUTE in leotards and hot pants," she joked, jostling his shoulders in a playful manner. He feigned annoyance, but laughed all the same.
The pair started walking, taking in all the scenery. A man not too far away was playing some a familiar yuletide song on his saxophone. A single mother across the street endeavored to keep her three kids in line while still desperately clinging the mounds of Christmas presents to her tired chest. In the background Tim thought he could hear a certain Czarnian spout a certain phrase, followed by some loud crashing and even louder screams. But he dismissed it as just another voice in his head (he REALLY needed to take time off from the team).
He glanced over at Cissie, who was seriously immersing herself into the holiday spirit. Her eyes darted erratically, her mind fervently taking in as much of the seasonal displays as possible. He could almost hear her humming to the music that echoed through the city streets, though not always on key. On occasion she'd nab him by his coat sleeve and drag him into some store, desperately wanting his opinion on how she would look in this item or that item, or if Cassie or Kon would prefer this doohickey over that thingamajig. He'd smile, give his honest opinion, and, depending on what his honest opinion was, brace himself for a hard smack on the shoulders (whoever said `truth hurts' should've been more specific as to WHO it hurt).
Cissie gazed at her friend, somewhat troubled by his unwillingness (or inability) to enjoy the holidays. Heck, even Slobo was known to get into the holiday spirit (though remembering him being chased by several burly security guards the LAST time they went shopping made her rescind that last thought). She wanted to ask why, but she knew better. Rob...Tim...had always been more into solitude. Plus, he didn't like bothering other people with his personal issues. So she tried a different approach...
"Apple dumplings," she said matter-of-factly.
Tim gave her a sideways glance. "Apple dumplings?"
"Uh huh," she nodded. "My mom and I never really hung out with the family during the holidays. My training always came first, no matter what time of the year it was. So we'd always be on the road, going from one instructor to the next, never really staying in one place too long. But every Christmas Eve, by some weird coincidence of fate, we'd always seem to stop into the same run-down diner. I can't remember the name of the place. For that matter, I don't think it HAD a name. It was the kind you see in movies that take place in states like Mississippi or Kentucky, where you wondered how it could pass the health inspections looking the way it did. The clientele wasn't exactly top-notch either.
"But every year we'd stop by that same restaurant, and every year the same waitress would greet us and have the chef fix us up something special. And even though we never had enough money for dessert, she would always serve me a bowl of apple dumplings. And I'd eat those apple dumplings, the biggest little smile on my face, and she'd give me a big old smile in return."
"Sounds pleasant," Tim said sincerely.
"Would've been, if it wasn't for the fact that I hated apple dumplings." Tim gave her a funny, `you're kidding' look. She returned it with a genuine, 'oh well, that's life' smile. "What about you?" She asked. "What's your favorite Christmas memory?"
He stopped. Not suddenly, but gradually, so much so that Cissie almost didn't notice. He turned, and gazed at a single coat display. There was just one coat on display, but one coat was all that needed to be displayed. There was nothing specifically grand about it though. It was a simple woman's coat, a deep khaki tan with large pockets near the bottom and black buttons running up the middle. It wasn't made out of any special material either. But it had its own air of value somehow. Its own appeal.
Brushing the snow from her face, Cissie glanced at Tim, then back at the coat, then back at Tim.
"Window shopping," he said, also matter-of-factly.
She glanced at him quizzically. He, on the other hand, continued to stare at the display.
"My parents travel a lot, and don't have much time for Christmas. Sure, they'd take me shopping with them when I was younger. But they'd always be running off, going to this place or that, and I'd always be just one step behind, trying to keep up. Sometimes, though, I'd see all these other families pointing at items in the window displays. They knew that they could never afford half the stuff, but they'd just be standing there, dreaming of what if would be like if they could, immersing themselves in their own fantasy wonderland. And as we'd rush on I'd pretend that we were those families, and that we were window shopping just the same.
"Then, one day, they stopped taking me shopping with them all together. But I never stopped pretending that we were one of those families, window shopping for a better life."
He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He tilted his head towards her, a tired smile creeping at the side of his face.
"Is it a requirement for all super heroes to have a messed up childhood," she sighed solemnly, "or is it just us?"
"Sometimes I think it's a little bit of both," he sighed back.
Leaning her head on his shoulders, the pair gazed at the coat in the window.
It really was a cute coat.
********
"Awww, they look so cute!" Cassie squeaked as she peeked her head out from behind the corner. Her face was almost luminous as she gazed at the pair staring at the coat display.
"Yeah, what were the odds that those two would be shopping in Metropolis at the same time as us?" Kon noted, grabbing a hand full of Bart's popcorn (where the Lad of Lightning GOT the popcorn was another question entirely).
"I wonder what bird-boy and hot-pants got me?" Slobo asked, wanting more to sneak a peak at what was inside the bags than anything else.
"Hopefully some breath mints," Cassie choked, waving his breath away from her general direction.
"Don't wave that stench at me," Anita said, plugging her nose.
"Hey, my breath ain't THAT bad."
"THERE HE IS!!!" A loud voice bellowed from behind them. The group turned to find a very angry shop owner (head STILL stuck inside that giant Santa Slobo had `introduced' him to not too long ago) with a small contingent of police officers. They were all looking directly at Slobo. And they did NOT look happy.
The group stood there. For a moment they contemplated the chances of them believing that Slobo, in the heat of the moment, had ACCIDENTALLY picked up the store-owner and shoved him through the Santa decoration.
"GET `EM!"
So much for that thought.
"Nice going, ya KISS reject," Cassie scolded Slobo as the group made a mad dash away from the rather peeved police officers.
"Hey, he had it coming!" He defended himself.
"Less talk. More run," Anita huffed as she put as much distance between herself and the rest as possible.
And as the snow fell from the sky, a friendly voice sang out tidings of joy to all the land...
...and was drowned out by the screams of a soprano-voiced Czarnian.
Merry Christmas.
Christmas: The most wonderful time of the year. A catch phrase which is, sadly, relative to one's point-of-view. If you enjoy dealing with opulent consumers over an over-priced novelty Santa dolls that would only serve as idle decorations to be lost in the darkest regions of the attic; if you get a thrill from haggling with vendors consumed by greed and numbed by the mindless rabble; or if you're just one of those masochistic types who get giddy at the slightest inkling of human suffering, then yes, this would be the most wonderful time of the year.
The young man huffed, his breath forming a gray plume in the frosty air. Timothy Drake didn't expect the present company around him to understand his less-than-exuberant take on the `most holy of nights'. But, then again, most of them probably didn't have to worry about recurring nightmares involving Joker's Christmas-themed rampages of old.
Metropolis was bustling with all kinds of holiday merriment. Santas on every corner jingled their tiny little bells in hopes of fetching loose change for the needy. Red-and-green banners and ribbons streamed the luminescent street lamps as far as the human (and Kryptonian) eye could see. The mega screen in the center of the square played all the latest advertisements for all the latest somethingoranother and whatchamacallit.
*And to think, people actually BUY that junk.*
Being rich, the anxieties of Christmas shopping never really bothered him much. Though lack of monetary funds (what with his father's company having gone belly-up recently) ensured that he WOULD have to be a little more conservative this year, it still wasn't anything he lost sleep over. Still, shopping for his friends, rich or not, was often an adventure in-and-of itself. Impulse was the easiest to shop for, as his ideal gifts were comparable with that of a five year old's. Unfortunately, so was his interest in them. He had lost count as to how many times he had stepped on a toy that, no more than a week before, had been the focus of al his youthful exuberance. Superboy USED to be just as easy: Sports magazines that displayed as many scantily clad women as legally possible. But, against all odds, Kon had actually started to MATURE over the past year or so. Now he was actually asking for REAL gifts. And he shuddered at some of the requests Anita had made in her list (he didn't think he could FIND half that stuff she asked for in the continental US).
Of all the Christmas lists that the gang had exchanged for each other, the one that most tickled him was Secret's. Rather than WRITE what she wanted, she DREW what she most desired (and not a bad drawing at that, too). In the picture she wore a fuzzy red Santa cap atop her dusty-blonde head (which would do nothing to block the cold); she wore the cutest little red Santa jacket, which was buttoned tightly across her upper torso, its length falling to the middle of her thighs, and adorned with fuzzy white fluff balls and fuzzy white trim, all of which accentuated her ever-so petit figure. Completing the ensemble were a pair of white, knee-high stockings and black platforms. All in all, the entire ensemble came to a total of $196.98 (charged, of course). But it was the one gift he didn't mind buying. Visions of the young girl bouncing joyously as she modeled her new wardrobe danced about his head as he made his way onward. (Why couldn't everyone else be that easy to please?)
"Oooo..." A young child swooned, his face pressed against a shop window. A sliver of drool seeped from the side of his lips as he ogled the latest window display.
"Bart, don't drool," the child's mother moaned. "You'll freeze to the window again." Tim halfway-smiled, thinking about a young speedster of the same name, and continued on.
Cars zoomed by at speeds better suited for summer conditions, unconcerned about the half-inch layer of brown slush and ice left over from the salt trucks. Tim sighed, backing away from the edge of the sidewalk as yet another spray plastered the pedestrians.
"%^&$!" a Santa cursed, his red suit now an Earthy brown. "This thing was a %^#% rental!"
"So much for this coat," a young girl (kinda cute at that) bemoaned as she gazed down at her now-sullied coat. A shame too, Tim thought. It looked expensive.
All through the night air Bing crooned about how he was dreaming of his Christmas being a certain color. Tim, on the other hand, wondered what happened to all that `Global Warming' the environmentalists kept promising.
*I didn't think you Bat-types got cold.* In his head he could hear Kon poke fun at his apparent discomfort.
*I could lace all your clothes with Kryptonite without you ever knowing, you know that.* would have been his reply, had Kon been there. Thankfully, when he went Christmas shopping, he had the common sense to do it alone.
The heavens opened up, and from their outstretched arms a curtain of white started to fall. Youth and elderly intermingled and competed for marked down novelty items and over-priced gizmos and gadgets that would serve as over-priced paperweights in the months to follow. The snow fluttered about them, the tiny flakes dancing about in the wintry wind, as Timothy Drake suppressed the urge to moan out loud. He was TRYING to enjoy himself. He really was. Seeing the glimmer in everyone else's eyes as they gawked at some of the gaudiest pieces of junk was both amusing and saddening. He wanted to get into that same carefree holiday spirit. Closing his eyes, he forced his mind to draw upon some happy moment involving the season to get him in the mood. He saw an empty house and a Christmas Day unwrapping presents he had to buy for himself. He saw a cackling clown dangling a child over the edge of a giant tank of boiling eggnog. He saw frozen eyes and icy cries. But he found nothing that would constitute a happy memory.
Shaking his head, Tim made his way onward. He had finished half his shopping already, and was quite adamant about getting it all out of the way before some maniac of mad scientist or whatever decided to pull something stupid and ruin it all...
"Gotcha!" A voice squealed behind him. Darkness invaded, as his woolen cap was forcefully brought down over his face. Years of training taking over, he cartwheeled into the air, bounding over the individual responsible for his impaired vision. Removing his hat, he found himself face to face with a very stunned Olympic gold medalist.
"Cissie?!?" Tim responded, bringing his hand up to his chest in an effort to mentally force his heart to start back up.
"Paranoid much?" She replied, giggling a bit. Out of everyone in the group, Cissie seemed most accustomed to his feats of agility. The fact that her butt was firmly planted to the snowy ground, however, was clear indication that even SHE wasn't completely immune to being startled.
"Don't laugh," he said, offering a hand. "Last time I went shopping I was kidnapped by some guy who thought he was the reincarnation of King Tut."
"Really?" She asked.
"Not really. But it could happen." She playfully smacked his shoulder, and he playfully pretended that it hurt. He was surprised she recognized him. Even though he'd shown his face to the group a LONG time ago, no one seemed to ever recognize him out of costume. Not that he ever complained, mind you. But it would've been nice to know that they paid at least THAT much attention.
"What brings you to Metropolis?" She inquired. "I figured you'd do all your shopping in Gotham."
"*Sigh* Every time I try to shop or do anything REMOTELY normal in that town some maniac tries to blow me up or kidnap me or God knows what else. I figured I'd stand a better chance of getting my shopping done if I was as far AWAY from Gotham as possible."
"Makes sense," was all she said.
"Doing some Christmas shopping with your mom?" Tim inquired.
"Psh! Hardly. She can't even make up her mind what she wants from the value menu, let alone what to buy for Christmas. No, this year I decided to go on my own. Figured I'd actually get some shopping done that way." Tim noticed that she was making a great deal of effort to try and shield a sizable bag behind her tiny figure. It didn't take the world's greatest detective to figure out why.
"And would that be MY gift you're trying to hide from me?" He joked, pretending like he was trying to snatch the bag from her. She squealed and nudged him away. He pressed on a bit more, and got a face full of snow for his troubles. The freezing slush didn't exactly feel pleasant against his bare skin, but hearing her laughing did ease the stinging somewhat.
Out of all his friends, Tim admired Cissie the most. She had stood at the edge...and walked away. She had taken responsibility for her actions and given up the game, and, because of it, had achieved goals that not even she had thought possible. Walking away from the super hero business not only saved her sanity, but reunited her with her mother and opened up so many worlds of possibilities. There was a part of him that envied her because of it, even longed to do the same.
But THAT was a luxury that he could not afford.
The pair walked along, though with no real purpose or destination in mind. Metropolis was a truly different entity from Gotham, Tim noted absently. Certainly cleaner. And it was definitely a nice change of pace, meandering about the sidewalk shops instead of the mall, which had become the social norm. There was just something to shopping in the open air that had a somewhat romantic appeal to it (though a sudden rush of icy wind reaffirmed why shopping inside a gigantic megaplex had become the socially preferred way to shop). He recalled shopping around this very same area once with his father (or, at least, he liked to PRETEND it was his father) when he was younger. He stopped in front of where the old toy store once stood, vaguely remembering staring at all the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figures, posed in such a way that it almost like they had been frozen in the midst of one heckuva battle.
"See anything you like?" she inquired. He shook himself out of the daze. To his embarrassment he found himself staring at a Victoria Secret's store.
"S-sorry," he stammered, his cheeks suddenly becoming very hot. She chuckled, nudging him in the rib cage, letting him know that she was just teasing him.
"C'mon," she said, motioning to a small café. "Let's get something to drink. My treat."
Tim smiled, and nodded in acceptance.
********
"I love this time of year, don't you?" the young Olympian sighed joyously, finishing off her mocha. The pair leaned inside the doorway of an old- style bookstore, taking some shelter from the winds as they sipped from their prospective beverages.
"Hmph," her companion rebuffed, taking a careful sip of his drink.
She cocked an eye at him. "Are all you Bat-types this grumpy, or is it just you?"
"It's one of the conditions that came with getting a cool costume: You have to swear against having fun. It was either that, or I wear the original Robin costume."
"The one with the elf shoes?"
"`Fraid so."
"But I think you'd look CUTE in leotards and hot pants," she joked, jostling his shoulders in a playful manner. He feigned annoyance, but laughed all the same.
The pair started walking, taking in all the scenery. A man not too far away was playing some a familiar yuletide song on his saxophone. A single mother across the street endeavored to keep her three kids in line while still desperately clinging the mounds of Christmas presents to her tired chest. In the background Tim thought he could hear a certain Czarnian spout a certain phrase, followed by some loud crashing and even louder screams. But he dismissed it as just another voice in his head (he REALLY needed to take time off from the team).
He glanced over at Cissie, who was seriously immersing herself into the holiday spirit. Her eyes darted erratically, her mind fervently taking in as much of the seasonal displays as possible. He could almost hear her humming to the music that echoed through the city streets, though not always on key. On occasion she'd nab him by his coat sleeve and drag him into some store, desperately wanting his opinion on how she would look in this item or that item, or if Cassie or Kon would prefer this doohickey over that thingamajig. He'd smile, give his honest opinion, and, depending on what his honest opinion was, brace himself for a hard smack on the shoulders (whoever said `truth hurts' should've been more specific as to WHO it hurt).
Cissie gazed at her friend, somewhat troubled by his unwillingness (or inability) to enjoy the holidays. Heck, even Slobo was known to get into the holiday spirit (though remembering him being chased by several burly security guards the LAST time they went shopping made her rescind that last thought). She wanted to ask why, but she knew better. Rob...Tim...had always been more into solitude. Plus, he didn't like bothering other people with his personal issues. So she tried a different approach...
"Apple dumplings," she said matter-of-factly.
Tim gave her a sideways glance. "Apple dumplings?"
"Uh huh," she nodded. "My mom and I never really hung out with the family during the holidays. My training always came first, no matter what time of the year it was. So we'd always be on the road, going from one instructor to the next, never really staying in one place too long. But every Christmas Eve, by some weird coincidence of fate, we'd always seem to stop into the same run-down diner. I can't remember the name of the place. For that matter, I don't think it HAD a name. It was the kind you see in movies that take place in states like Mississippi or Kentucky, where you wondered how it could pass the health inspections looking the way it did. The clientele wasn't exactly top-notch either.
"But every year we'd stop by that same restaurant, and every year the same waitress would greet us and have the chef fix us up something special. And even though we never had enough money for dessert, she would always serve me a bowl of apple dumplings. And I'd eat those apple dumplings, the biggest little smile on my face, and she'd give me a big old smile in return."
"Sounds pleasant," Tim said sincerely.
"Would've been, if it wasn't for the fact that I hated apple dumplings." Tim gave her a funny, `you're kidding' look. She returned it with a genuine, 'oh well, that's life' smile. "What about you?" She asked. "What's your favorite Christmas memory?"
He stopped. Not suddenly, but gradually, so much so that Cissie almost didn't notice. He turned, and gazed at a single coat display. There was just one coat on display, but one coat was all that needed to be displayed. There was nothing specifically grand about it though. It was a simple woman's coat, a deep khaki tan with large pockets near the bottom and black buttons running up the middle. It wasn't made out of any special material either. But it had its own air of value somehow. Its own appeal.
Brushing the snow from her face, Cissie glanced at Tim, then back at the coat, then back at Tim.
"Window shopping," he said, also matter-of-factly.
She glanced at him quizzically. He, on the other hand, continued to stare at the display.
"My parents travel a lot, and don't have much time for Christmas. Sure, they'd take me shopping with them when I was younger. But they'd always be running off, going to this place or that, and I'd always be just one step behind, trying to keep up. Sometimes, though, I'd see all these other families pointing at items in the window displays. They knew that they could never afford half the stuff, but they'd just be standing there, dreaming of what if would be like if they could, immersing themselves in their own fantasy wonderland. And as we'd rush on I'd pretend that we were those families, and that we were window shopping just the same.
"Then, one day, they stopped taking me shopping with them all together. But I never stopped pretending that we were one of those families, window shopping for a better life."
He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He tilted his head towards her, a tired smile creeping at the side of his face.
"Is it a requirement for all super heroes to have a messed up childhood," she sighed solemnly, "or is it just us?"
"Sometimes I think it's a little bit of both," he sighed back.
Leaning her head on his shoulders, the pair gazed at the coat in the window.
It really was a cute coat.
********
"Awww, they look so cute!" Cassie squeaked as she peeked her head out from behind the corner. Her face was almost luminous as she gazed at the pair staring at the coat display.
"Yeah, what were the odds that those two would be shopping in Metropolis at the same time as us?" Kon noted, grabbing a hand full of Bart's popcorn (where the Lad of Lightning GOT the popcorn was another question entirely).
"I wonder what bird-boy and hot-pants got me?" Slobo asked, wanting more to sneak a peak at what was inside the bags than anything else.
"Hopefully some breath mints," Cassie choked, waving his breath away from her general direction.
"Don't wave that stench at me," Anita said, plugging her nose.
"Hey, my breath ain't THAT bad."
"THERE HE IS!!!" A loud voice bellowed from behind them. The group turned to find a very angry shop owner (head STILL stuck inside that giant Santa Slobo had `introduced' him to not too long ago) with a small contingent of police officers. They were all looking directly at Slobo. And they did NOT look happy.
The group stood there. For a moment they contemplated the chances of them believing that Slobo, in the heat of the moment, had ACCIDENTALLY picked up the store-owner and shoved him through the Santa decoration.
"GET `EM!"
So much for that thought.
"Nice going, ya KISS reject," Cassie scolded Slobo as the group made a mad dash away from the rather peeved police officers.
"Hey, he had it coming!" He defended himself.
"Less talk. More run," Anita huffed as she put as much distance between herself and the rest as possible.
And as the snow fell from the sky, a friendly voice sang out tidings of joy to all the land...
...and was drowned out by the screams of a soprano-voiced Czarnian.
Merry Christmas.