Author's note: Thank you to my sister for all the Beta-ing. And thank you to all who reviewed.
I'll be Home for Christmas, Part 3
"Damn!" Harper cursed as the stupid tree that had cost him an arm and a leg crashed to the ground. Sighing, he tried once again to get it upright in its stand.
And failed.
"Damn, damn, damn!" Nursing bruised fingers, Harper glared at the tree, vowing revenge, and decided it was time for a strategic retreat.
Sighing once again, Harper took a break. And nearly broke his neck on one of the bottles of snow-in-a-can that littered the room. Sweeping aside tinsel that was shredded beyond almost all recognition, he sat.
Sitting at that bar, he surveyed his domain. He'd spent all night decorating.
It looked like crap.
"I just don't get it! It was always so easy before!" Harper complained to the air. Then again, he'd always had his family, or Trance or Rommie to help before.
Glaring at the ugly room, he tried to think up an accurate description. The best he could come up with was that it looked like a baboon's ass exploded all over the room.
Definitely not Christmas-y.
"Damn," he muttered once more. Wishing he had some help, but realising that since he wasn't sure any one was even going to come, Harper got up with a groan and marched over his new arch-enemy: The Christmas Tree From Hell.
"I'll get you, my pretty! And your little dog too!" Cackling manically, Harper once more tried to hoist the tree up. His efforts were rewarded with a slap in the face from one of the branches.
"Hey! I wasn't touching anything I shouldn't have been," Harper scolded the tree as he scrambled to get a proper grip. He tried once again to hoist the tree up and as he stood there sweating and cursing, he wondered why the hell he was even going to all this effort.
It wasn't like any of them would come. They'd never wanted to celebrate Christmas. Every year he made them. And every year, the rolled their eyes and "allowed" themselves to be dragged into the holiday spirit. As if he was too stupid to see the superior holier-then-thou attitude that they sported the entire time.
Still, he'd thought Beka had always enjoyed it.
And yet he'd been wrong about so many things with her so recently.
The more he thought about it, the more depressed he got. Of course none of them would come. The Tree From Hell shook and groaned, dragging him from his thoughts.
Consciously pulling himself out of his melancholy, Harper decided that he didn't care if no one came. He would have a Christmas celebration himself, by himself, for himself.
And with that Harper went back to his tree wrestling, something he had decided should be a new Olympic sport.
After a few minutes (and bruises and scrapes and curses, not to mention lines from old B movies), Harper was no closer to getting The Christmas Tree From Hell up, than he was when he'd started.
"What I wouldn't give to be two feet taller and built like Rhade," Harper groused and promptly spat out pine needles.
He was interrupted from the "you'll be sorry for all the trouble you've given me" speech he was giving The Tree From Hell by a loud knocking at the door. Grumbling, Harper left off with a mumbled "don't go anywhere" to The Tree, and went to answer the door.
"Beka?" Harper did an admirable imitation of a fish as he viewed the pilot and the presents in her arms.
"Hey Harper, Merry Christmas! Need a hand?"