A/N: I bought my dad a Porche for Christmas.

Okay, a remote control Porche (is that even spelled right...?). But still...it's totally awesome, and my dad loves it. He opened it up eagerly and quickly began playing with it. He's such a child. I got my mom nice earrings, with diamonds and some blue kind of stone (not sapphire). I know, I know, it rocks having money, that you can spend on people. I love being able to buy things for people on Christmas day, it's just great to see how happy they are and grateful. But when you get them something they really like, it's a whole other feeling...like you did good. I feel kind of like Twister probably did in this story on the matter. He had the money to buy his friends and family presents, and if felt good, but not knowing whether they'd like it or not was still kind of eating at him.

ENJOY!

Chapter 8

Twister had taken a seat in the hallway, next to the stairs overlooking the living room. He was leaning against the wall, his knees drawn up, eyes closed. He could seem like a completely different person sometimes; withdrawn, melancholic, and if one didn't know better, pondorous. Reggie smiled slightly, coming to stand beside him.

"I'm sorry, Reg," he mumbled, "I didn't mean to yell."

"I know, Twist," Reggie assured him, "We shouldn't have ganged up on you like that. We were all just really worried is all, and then you tell us it's because you went looking for something and it doesn't make sense...but I guess it's better than Otto convincing you to go out and try snowboarding in the storm."

"Tried snowboarding," Twister murmured, rubbing his neck, "Bad idea..." They were silent, the adults were down the stairs talking, their voices a low buzzing in the background. "They're trying to decide how to punish Otto and me," Twister explained to Reggie, who nodded, saying nothing, "Personally, I think after the second tree I learned my lesson." Silence again. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't mean to yell, I know," Reggie whispered.

"No. Not about that," Twister leaned back, looking down the hallway, "I worked really hard, Reg, to get you this great present. That's why I had all those double shifts, that's why I took so many hours at my job...not because my boss is a prick, but because I wanted to get you something really nice for Christmas."

"Oh," Reggie said quietly, she wasn't certain what he was getting at, but the sinking feeling in her stomach told her she wasn't going to like it.

"I was really proud," he continued, "It was the hardest I'd ever worked for anything. And I thought I was doing so good lately, too. I was always getting praised at my job for being a hard-worker, I was getting good grades at school for the first time in my life, I hadn't forgotten anything, at least nothing I can remember right now, and I was even keeping my room clean, sort of...! I was totally exhausted, but my parents were proud of me and I had the best girlfriend in the world so it didn't matter..."

"Twister..."

"I don't have anything to give you, Reggie," he sniffed, "I was wrong, I hadn't changed. I forgot to zip up my damn jacket pocket, and your present slipped out...I lost it on the slopes. It was the best thing I'd ever gotten for anyone...and I wanted to make you happy, and I thought it would make you happy...and now it's gone, and I have nothing. Merry Christmas, Reg, your boyfriend's a fuck up."

"Oh man, Twist. You...and Otto...you went out there to look for my present," Reggie concluded in mortified stun, and Twister nodded miserably. She slid to the ground beside him, running her hand through her hair, her heart pounding in her chest. "Twister, you guys could have gotten killed! Over some stupid present...there is nothing you could have bought me, nothing in this world that is worth yours or Otto's life!"

"I know!" he snapped, "I screwed up again. That's twice...I wonder how many other things I screwed up today, that I just can't remember I..."

"Stop it," Reggie hissed, "I can't talk to you if you're going to be like this. I guess yelling at you isn't helping either." She lay her head against his shoulder and for a moment neither said anything, "You really worked hard to get me that gift?"

"Yeah," Twister mumbled.

"Then I love it."

"You don't even know what it was."

"I don't have to," Reggie whispered, "All I have to know is that you worked hard for it, and that it was important to you to give it to me. Haven't you ever heard it's the thought that counts?"

"My parents tell me and Lars that all the time," Twister said, "I never asked what that meant, because if it meant thinking, I wasn't interested. Especially when I had presents to open." Reggie shook her head, kissing his forearm and smiling up at him.

"I guess you kind of already gave me a present this year," she went on, and he looked at her curiously.

"What?"

"You." Reggie took Twister's arm, wrapping it over her shoulders, snuggling against his chest, and continuing, "This is the first year I've ever had a serious boyfriend for Christmas. The first time I've ever cared about the guy I was dating enough to worry about what to get him; first time I've ever been with someone who worked hard just to get me something nice. So you're wrong, you already gave me something for Christmas, and I already know it's the best gift of any I'll get this year."

"Thanks, Reg," Twister murmured, pulling her into a cozy kiss, and letting a smile spread across his face. They sat like that a moment, before he said, "So...what did you get me?" Reggie rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him and grinning slightly.

-0-0-

The next day went by begrudgingly. The kids watched television most of the time, the storm raging outside. The adults sat in the kitchen, talking. Sometimes Otto would moan about how bored he was, and Twister would join in and Lars would start yelling at them, and a fight would ensue, continuing until Sandy stepped in, scolding all the boys and sending them in opposite directions. It was the following day, Christmas Eve, when Cleo joined her aunt, who was preparing lunch in the kitchen.

"Cleo, estoy apesadumbrado que usted no estará con sus padres para los días de fiesta (Cleo, I'm sorry you won't be with your parents for the holidays)," Sandy said, brushing Cleo's hair tenderly behind her ears.

"Está bien, tía, yo todavía está con la familia (It's alright, aunt, I'm still with family)." Cleo assured her, "Cuando esta tormenta termina quizá podré ir los veo. (When this storm ends maybe I will be able to go see them.)"

"Espero tan," Sandy commented, "Con las líneas telefónicas abajo, no se parece justo que usted no podrá incluso hablar a sus padres el día de Navidad. (With the phone lines down, it doesn't seem fair that you won't be able to even speak to your parents on Christmas day.)"

"La tormenta terminará quizá mañana (Maybe the storm will end tomorrow)," Cleo said hopefully.

"No se parece probablemente (It doesn't seem likely)," Sandy told her solemnly, "Pero no lastima para esperar. (But it doesn't hurt to hope.)" There was a crash in the living room and both women made their ways through the door to the small space. The scene was a mess. Lars was holding Twister in a headlock, Otto and Reggie were shouting at one another, Tito and Ray seemed to be arguing as well. Raul was yelling at his sons, and Mrs. Dullard was trying to hold her own son back as he was attempting to break up the Rocket siblings.

"Oh, mi dios," Sandy muttered, "Will everyone...please...Lars, let go of your brother...Regina and Oswald Rocket that is enough shouting..."

"Tia..." Cleo whispered. Sandy scowled as her calm rationality was holding no affect. She placed her hands on her hips and angrily glared out at the occupants of the room.

"Shut your mouths, all of you," she roared, and everyone fell silent, "Tomorrow is Christmas, and we are all family! There will be no fighting! Lars, release your brother. NOW!"

"Yes, ma'am," Lars murmured, letting Twister go, who shoved his older brother angrily.

"Maurice," Sandy seethed.

"Sorry."

"Regina, Oswald, whatever you two have to say to one another can be said in a lower tone!" Sandy snapped, "This is a small cabin, everyone doesn't need to hear you!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Rodriguez," the two Rockets murmured.

"Tito, Ray, you are good friends, you can talk things out! You are setting a bad example for the kids!"

"Yes, ma'am," Tito and Ray mumbled in unison, heads hung in shame.

"Paula, Raul, next time just come get me," Sandy shook her head, "It's Christmas tomorrow. Can we please have peace until then?" She frowned, giving the group one last scowl before turning back into the kitchen, Cleo following closely behind.

Everyone resumed a more peaceful manner; trying to force down the tension. Mrs. Dullard left towards the kitchen as well, looking to see if there was anything for her to help with. Sam settled on the floor, tapping at his laptop; which had died not long before and what with the electricity down due to the storm, he had no place to recharge the battery. The lights and everything else was running on generator juice, and they were hoping that didn't give out on them. Reggie flipped the television on; but all they got were snowflakes on the screen as it was. Otto suggested a board game to Twister, who shrugged figuring there was nothing better to do and they situated themselves on the floor with the board laid out, setting up the game pieces. Tito and Ray frowned at one another. They had been working on the radio, as all they were receiving on it was static. They'd gotten in a fight over which wire went where before Sandy had come in to lay down the law, and now Raul came to sit with them, pointing out that they had, indeed, both been wrong about the placement.

Lars slinked onto the couch beside Reggie, who regarded him with a disinterested glare. He grinned at her, slipping his arm over the couch behind her, leaning in and grinning.

"You know," he whispered, and she narrowed her eyes at the television, aimlessly changing the channel, despite the fact they were all the same buzzing snowflake image, "I noticed there were a lot of presents under that tree for you..."

"That's great, I hadn't really looked myself," Reggie muttered tersely, "I wouldn't have thought you'd care about a package if it wasn't for you." Lars ignored the slandering comment, acting as though he were suddenly interested in his fingernails on the hand behind Reggie.

"I also noticed that none of them seemed to be from that twisted little brother of mine," he went on, "I thought it was strange. I mean, what kind of lame-o boyfriend wouldn't get a girlfriend like you a present on Christmas. A shame really."

"Lars," Reggie started, drawing her breath in with a great deal of annoyance.

"Hey, I'm just saying," Lars said, raising his hands defensively in front of him, then with a mischievous smirk, "I got you a present, Reggie."

"Lars," Reggie hissed, "I prefer his nothing over your something." She lifted herself from the couch in disgust, coming to slump on the floor beside Twister. He smiled at her somewhat and Lars sneered, leaning back in slight dissatisfaction; it wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for.

"Thanks," Twister mumbled in Reggie's ear, "But he's right." Otto glanced up briefly, then looking back down at the game board grumpily.

"You want to play, Reg," he asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Hey, Squid," Twister called, leaning back to look at Sam, who'd perked up slightly at the name, "We're playing a game. Join?"

"Yup, coming," Sam replied, dragging himself over. The men started talking about some sport or the other, and Lars shifted through several of the magazines he'd brought. Sandy came out later to announce lunch, and quietly they shuffled into the dining area.

END A/N: You're probably all wondering "what's up with Lars? What a bastard saying all that crap!" He's just trying to stir up trouble. No, he's not hitting on Reg. He admits she's good looking, but he doesn't want her to be his girlfriend. You're probably all wondering what's the deal with Otto, too, and his apparent obsession with "snow bunny babes"? It's simple. His best bro has a girl, so he kind of feels like, well maybe I should have a girl. He's not really a perverted dick, it's just the way he's acting. I think it fits his character better, that he probably wants a serious relationship, but he's got to act macho "Casanova" about it. Please forgive the both of them.

Please excuse any grammatical and typing errors. A REVIEW would be greatly appreciated.

Is this storm ever going to blow over, you all wonder. Huh. So do I. I know...I know...it's something I should know...what with being the author. We're not omnipotent you know! Not all seeing, some things just happen in the story and the author has no goddamned control over it! Just get off my back about the subject!

Boy, am I cranky. Late night, early morning.

THanks FOR Reading.