It's still early but ngl this is a contender for my favourite of the whole thing. They deserve every bit of peace and love they can possibly get. Also having them apart from Mika on Christmas is OBLITERATING me but I needed this to mesh with Bloodline and we just can't rush things yk?

✧･ﾟ: on the 5th day of Christmas :･ﾟ✧ :

"You're A Mean One"

Normally Kurda liked to consider himself to be fairly in touch with his human roots. Because like it or not, every vampire and vampaneze has them. Why deny it?

He's also never had a problem slipping back into civilization on an as-needed basis. He was almost embarrassed to admit how excited he was for this trip to the supermarket with Gracie. What would be a mundane excursion for the average father-daughter duo felt like a miracle to Kurda. Seven years in exile really conditions you to appreciate the little things. Besides, there was something to be said for the comfort and convenience that humanity offered. It was a refreshing break - especially at the most wonderful time of the year.

All it took was five minutes in the supermarket for Kurda to pull his hood up over his head and grind his teeth so hard he could've sworn he felt one crack. He wished he could go back in time and undo his offer to make a grocery run. It was only fair to restock Dermot and Angela's pantry considering the wayward ensemble of vampires and vampaneze had cleaned it out in less than a day and a half. But the combination of blaring music, careless shoppers, and overall dizzying array of commercialism was quickly eroding all those warm-hearted intentions. Had Christmas always been such a blood sport?!

That thought was occupying his mind when he tripped over a screaming child who'd lain across the aisle because his mother refused to buy a 5kg tub of candy canes. Kurda quickly recovered his balance, apologized (as if it was his fault), and caught up with Gracie. She was navigating the shopping cart further ahead.

"We're almost done, right?" Kurda groaned, dropping his 5kg tub of candy canes pulling his hood more tightly around his ears as the store's corporate-approved holiday playlist settled on Last Christmas again. Kurda hates Last Christmas. And Kurda likes everything. Enhanced vampiric hearing was more of a curse than a blessing in a dire strait like this. At least Gracie's vampire blood was fresh enough that dipping a toe back into the human world was still effortless for her.

"Not really." She said, leafing through the handful of written snack requests she'd collected from the others. "So far the only list I've finished is Vancha's. And all he wrote was onion."

Kurda snorted in amusement, momentarily forgetting his discomfort. "Wow. He's really treating himself for the holidays."

"What does he need an onion for?"

"I've learned not to guess at Vancha's motives. I'm always wrong. What's next?"

Gracie stopped the cart at the end of the aisle and scanned the horizon with laser-focus reminiscent of Mika when he really got in the zone.

"Clementines." She said, pointing at a display nearby. "Darren's mom said something about how much she loves clementines this time of year."

"Clearly she's not the only one." Kurda sighed. The landscape between them and the clementine corral resembled a mosh pit. The words were barely out of his mouth when he narrowly avoided being crushed against a cooler by an eager shopper darting between them. "Gods, this is worse than the Festival of the Undead! Why is everybody running around like it's a competition?"

"It's four days before Christmas. This is their Festival of the Undead." Gracie shrugged. She seemed far less fazed by the chaos than Kurda felt.

It took what felt like an eternity to get close enough to grab a few crates of the juicy orange fruit. Kurda figured five would be enough. They were dealing with a full house, after all.

Then he saw the little old woman, five feet tall and maybe ninety pounds at the very most. She was standing a ways off from the clementine display, staring longingly at it. She seemed to be waiting for a break in the crowd to make her move. But the prices had just been marked down and the supplies were depleting quickly. If the crowd cleared out it would almost certainly be because the clementines were gone.

"Oops. I accidentally grabbed an extra." Said Kurda, casually setting one of his crates in her mostly-empty shopping cart as he passed by. "Here, you can have this one. Save us both a trip over there."

She beamed at him with pure delight, even adjusting her bifocals for a better look. "What a chivalrous young man!"

Young. Hah.

"No problem at all." Said Kurda, smiling back. He carried on back to Gracie, and no sooner had he triumphantly dropped his remaining four crates of clementines into their cart than he heard a raspy warbling voice from over his shoulder -

"My dear boy, I don't suppose you could fetch a few tins of cat food off the top shelf for me? I can't quite jump like I used to. And the staff seem terribly busy."

"Go." Said Gracie, only partially rolling her eyes at the way Kurda's face fell with sympathy. "I'll keep working on our list."

Kurda returned to his new friend and let her lead the way. She moved about as quickly as a glacier. Kurda had nothing but immense respect for the elderly and the wisdom they could bestow. But the atmosphere of the store was reaching critical chaos and he wished it would be appropriate for him to just pick her up and expedite things a little. But of course that wouldn't even have been in the realm of appropriate, so instead he offered to push her cart. In the short but harrowing trek from the fresh produce to the pet aisle, Kurda learned her name was Clarice, she was a widower, she had four children, seven grandchildren, and a cat who lived better than most people.

"My poor Sprinkle needs the expensive kind these days- her thyroid's been giving her trouble. I do wish they wouldn't put it so high up." Clarice explained as Kurda reached for the coveted cans of medical-grade kitty chow on the top shelf. Charna's guts, no wonder she needed help. Even at five foot nine Kurda had to hop a little. But he got it. And then he got her a bag of kitty litter because it probably weighed more than she did. And then he got her some gourmet chocolate chips from another stupidly high shelf, because that was the only kind of cookie her grandkids liked to bake. And then he got her some non-drowsy cold medicine because she couldn't read the tiny print on the labels.

Before he knew it, Clarice's cart was full and she was waving goodbye from the checkout line. Kurda waved back fondly before hurrying off to find Gracie. For the first time since he walked in here, Kurda felt a glimmer of that good old-fashioned Christmas spirit. Maybe all hope wasn't lost. He smile-grimaced when he finally saw Gracie; she looked like she'd conquered their entire shopping list and then some. The cart was stacked so high it looked in danger of tipping over.

"There you are! That took a bit longer than planned. It started with the cat food, then one thing led to another." Kurda explained ruefully.

"I know. I saw you from the other end of the aisle while you were reading her the ingredients on the canned cranberry jelly."

"Yeah, she really had to think about that one." Said Kurda. "But she's all set now. And I'm so sorry you had to get all this stuff on your own."

But Gracie didn't look the slightest bit inconvenienced. Far from it. She was grinning back at him, face glowing even brighter than the fluorescent lights above.

"Are you kidding? I love that you helped that lady." She told him, gently bumping her shoulder into his as he fell into step beside her.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. That's my favourite thing about you. The way you take care of people. And not just your people. And even after everything you've been through, that still comes so easily to you. I'm really proud of you, you know that?" Said Gracie. She said it so easily, like she had no idea the power her words had.

Suddenly all of Kurda's stress evaporated. The pounding headache disappeared. Even the music seemed less gods-awful than before, and Kurda almost started singing along with it. Considered skipping down the cereal aisle. Because he was here. Sure, here was an overpacked supermarket teeming with so much late stage capitalism and pent-up rage the roof was liable to blow any second. But Gracie was here too. And that was more than enough. That was everything.

He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed, it was the closest he could get to a proper hug there in the crowded deli corner.

"Fuck, you're not crying, are you?" Gracie teased him. "Come on. At least wait til we get to the car."

Kurda wiped his eyes surreptitiously, but managed a hoarse chuckle as he composed himself. "Gods, you're worse than Mika."

"Yeah. I get that a lot. Okay, we're almost done. Just need the honey glazed ham."

"I thought Darren's family was doing turkey for Christmas dinner?"

"They are. I was going to cook the ham on Christmas Eve. Already checked with Mama Shan."

"Ah. I didn't know you were such an ambitious chef." Said Kurda.

"I'm not. I actually hate cooking for the most part." Gracie admitted with a wry grimace. "But I have a few exceptions. One of them being honey glazed ham at Christmas."

Kurda smiled again. "Alright, love. Let's get your honey glazed ham and get the hell out of here."

They honed in on the bright red promotional sign that declared honey-glazed hams could be found in the cooler below. There was a moment of despair when they got close enough to see the cooler looked empty. It was followed by the thrill of triumph when they got even closer yet and realized there was one final ham remaining, drawing them in like a pink beacon.

But Kurda and Gracie weren't the only ones on the hunt. They were so focused they didn't notice they had competition. A looming giant of a man (think Arrow-sized, except without the warmth in his eyes) was approaching from the other side. He had the exact same goal in mind. But there was only one ham. And with inches to spare, Gracie got there first. She plucked it triumphantly from the cooler and held it aloft like a trophy. Kurda whooped in excitement and clapped as if she'd just scored a winning touchdown.

The large man seemed to be under the impression there'd been foul play.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I saw that first." He grunted, stepping directly into her space.

Gracie knew exactly what his intentions were. She looked him dead in the eye without a shred of remorse, and smiled. "How nice for you."

"I was reaching for it. You snatched it right out from under me." Said the man. His brow furrowed into a glare as he added in a manner that sounded vaguely threatening, "Guess you just didn't see me there."

"No, I saw you. Better luck next time. Merry Christmas." Said Gracie, chilly smile unwavering as she placed the ham in her cart. She turned to go, and that was when he made his fatal mistake. He took another step closer to her - right up in her personal space now.

A year ago Kurda probably would've intervened. And even now his blood still boiled. He'll be the first to admit his protective paternal instinct is one of the few forces capable of blurring the lines of pacifism within which he operates. But after a year of reconnecting with his daughter, he knew exactly what she could handle.

The thing about Gracie is that it's simply never occurred to her to be intimidated by any man. Kurda supposes that makes sense considering her earliest memories involve being treated like royalty by the roughest, toughest, most intimidating men on earth. But the six-foot-tall-four-foot-wide workboot-wearing denim-clad behemoth wouldn't have known she could eat him for breakfast. He seemed to think he could just bully her into giving him the ham.

Kurda just hoped she wouldn't get them banned from the store before they got to the checkout line.

"Excuse you?" Said Gracie, arching an eyebrow coldly. She wasn't smiling now.

The man brushed right past her and reached into her shopping cart. And the moment he touched the ham his fate was sealed.

Gracie was visibly prepared to throw hands. But she settled for elbows and sent him crashing into a giant Santa cardboard cutout. Naturally that didn't offer a lot of support. He fell to the floor, cussing and panting like a wounded buffalo.

"Jesus Christ, lady! What the hell's wrong with you?!"

"Don't touch my fucking ham."

She didn't even spare him a second glance.

"Funny, I really thought we got your food aggression under control back when you were three." Kurda snorted as they carried on. "You used to bite us if we tried to take your snack away before you were finished."

"Honestly? If he'd asked politely I would've just given it to him." Said Gracie, casually tossing another bag of party mix in the cart. The encounter hadn't fazed her in the slightest. "But he was a bully. And the next person tries to intimidate won't have vampire blood to back themselves up. Hopefully he'll remember me and think twice."

The other thing about Gracie is that she really is nice. Kind. Empathetic. Her heart and soul are pure gold - she's a Smahlt like that. But she'll match your energy like karma personified. You step off the high road; she'll bury you in the ditch. Because she's also a Ver Leth like that.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Finally it was over. Well, there was a half-hour wait in the checkout line and then it was over. They'd kept the faith. Fought the fight. Climbed the mountain. Finished the race. All they had to do was make it out of the store and across the parking lot.

"Do you think this is what it feels like to open the Hall of Princes?" Kurda wondered aloud as the automatic supermarket doors whooshed open before them.

"Yeah, just without the ego complex." Gracie snickered. Kurda cracked up at that.

Their laughter died abruptly as they crossed from the main store into the foyer. On one side, the shopping cart bay. On the other, the saddest food bank collection they'd ever seen. Accompanied by the saddest looking guy to ever wear elf hat while ringing a big red bell.

"Slow day?" Kurda asked. He instinctively rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a handful of coins to drop into the plastic collection bin. He'd spent countless hours volunteering with this sort of thing during his exile. It was the closest he could get to feeling sane at the time.

"This is on par, actually." The elf man sighed.

Kurda's jaw went slack and his heart sank. "It is?!"

"Where have you been? Costs a fortune just to breathe these days. The average person can barely afford to feed their own family, much less others."

"Times are tough everywhere, I guess." Kurda replied weakly. His stomach was already churning with guilt over how much food they'd just bought.

He looked at Gracie. Gracie looked at Kurda. As a half-blood, she can't do real telepathy yet. But nevertheless Kurda usually has a pretty good idea what she's thinking. He wasn't entirely wrong on this particular occasion. He wasn't surprised when she picked one of their grocery bags out of the cart and set it in the donation box. But then she gave them a second one. And a third. Kurda's eyes welled up all over again as she handed over bag after bag til all that remained was the hard-won honey glazed ham.

Fair enough, Kurda thought. Everything else could be replaced. But that was the last ham left. He opened his mouth to tell her it was more than enough, it was time to go home. Then he watched as her gaze shifted from the donation box to the cooler next to it. There was a sign taped to it:

Due to rising costs, fresh meat is one of the most desperately needed yet least frequently donated items. If you wish to donate any meat products, you may place them here. We appreciate your generosity.

For the first time that night, Gracie hesitated. But only for a split second. Then she reached into the cart one more time. She carefully picked up the ham as if it was a priceless treasure, and tucked it into the cooler.

The elf man practically had to pick his jaw up off the floor as he gawked around at the array of food she'd left there. "Are you sure?! This is awfully generous."

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it." Gracie told him. Then she glanced at Kurda, a wayward grin lighting up her face as she gestured back towards the store. "We'll just go back and do it all again. Maybe I can steal a ham from some asshole's cart."

This week in my imaginary merch store we're launching limited holiday edition t-shirts that say "Don't Touch My Fucking Ham".

If the ham battle sounds vaguely familar it's because it was loosely inspired by that scene in Christmas With The Kranks. I've actually never had an original thought in my life.