Author's Note: Another chapter up! And omg I am sooo sorry this story is so long. Are you all just extremely angry with me right now? I know, I am sorry but I can't seem to write this any shorter. I feel like it would take away from the story. I want to develop the characters more. Dialogue- clearly- and interaction is my favorite part of the story so hopefully you agree. I love you all for your wonderful comments. Nothing makes my day more :)

PS I haven't edited this chapter but will sometime this week- I doubt you guys really care but in case you have grammical pet peeves like me haha ;)

You Again?

Chapter 19

"Here."

I handed over what I'd been carrying for the past week. I hadn't had the opportunity- more like the willpower- to give it to him sooner.

"What's this?"

"You can read, right?" I snapped at Darien for no particular reason. It's Darien- that is reason enough, right?

He took in the words on the creamy white card with green and red sparkles (and a red ribbon too. They went a little overboard this year if you ask me…).

"Why thank you Serena."

I'd be lying if I said the smile didn't faze me a little.

It was so dang pretty.

I'm the girl. Shouldn't I have the killer smile?

Nope.

"Damn him and his pretty ways."

Oh… shh—

"What was that?"

Oh my god! I'd just muttered it out loud! That was supposed to be a thought! Stupid head!

"Nothing, nothing." I quickly backtracked; I'm good at that. I've been doing it for years and years. Practice makes perfect. "It's my obligation to give you that. You are, after all, the latest author. They want you to feel appreciated."

"Ouch." He faked a wince- that was even cute, how can you pretty up a wince? It is beyond me. "You mean, you don't want me to feel appreciated? I gotta say that hurts a little."

"That is not what I meant-- " I began but, of course, he didn't let me continue.

"You mean you do want me to feel appreciated?"

"Well, sure, of co—" Again- interrupted.

"I have several ideas of how you can accomplish that goal."

My mouth, I'm pretty sure (maybe 99.99), dropped.

But, again, I backtracked and shut it.

Darien is a complete and total tease- he can't help it. Maybe it's a compulsion? Like my total lack of grace and poise around him.

"Yup, by going to the party. I know. It is brilliant. And, you know what? We do it every year." I nodded my head firmly—and insistently, "They're geniuses, let me tell you. Them and their parties. Everyone just loves a good Christmas party."

"Technically it's a 'Winter Celebration'." Darien rightly correctly- so he can read.

"Yeah, well, we do have to keep it nonpartisan and all that. Don't want anyone to feel left out. It's a celebration for the masses. Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Jews, atheists…" I trailed off, not remembering my long list of religions.

"Wouldn't Holiday work for that?"

He's such a skeptic.

"No, not everyone celebrates holidays either. I know, its depressing."

"Or really happy, depending."

I looked at him curiously. Darien's a cynic? Or maybe he's just really able to empathize. For some reason I think it's the former.

"Not into Holiday cheer? Actually—winter cheer would be the PC way I guess?"

He shrugged it off, "Not particularly."

I was going to make a joke about Santa and lots of coal and him being naughty but- call it me getting some brains- I rethought that one. A million different comebacks could be given for that one, none of which I liked envisioning. All ended with me turning tomato red.

Instead, I found myself actually serious, "Why's that?"

I'd unconsciously leaned forward on my desk toward him—the obvious polite thing to do to show that you are a good listener.

Darien didn't seem too into the whole verbal chatter like he usually is. "

"Never been."

Again with a deflective shrug.

I assume I can guess why. Dead parents don't make for wonderful celebrations. Maybe he didn't want to share.

I swear I consciously decided to drop the subject but somehow my mouth ran away with me- as always.

"The first Christmas- Winter- whatever- Sammy and I spent alone together was probably the most depressing, but after that initial bump the season became our favorite time of the year. And I don't mean to sound like an after school special or something. The second year I went all out- overcompensating for the pervious year's lack of cheer I guess- and Sammy seemed only too pleased to go along. Dead parents sorta put a damper on the spirit, but if you just think about all the things you have to celebrate instead of all the stuff you don't have, it's actually worth it. Maybe even kinda fun."

I couldn't help the smile that spread over my face. The season is full of everything I love- music, laughter, loud people, not to mention presents!

God it's great.

My brilliant speech seemed to have affected the Grinch- he's smiling. But I'm not sure what to make of the smile. It's that one that makes me nervous. I'm never sure of its meaning.

"Am I good or am I good? Cindy Lou's got nothing on me."

He laughed.

Yup, I'm good.

"It isn't necessarily that I agree with what you're saying, but you're just so happy saying it. It makes me think, maybe some people can think about it that way. It's great. Just cuz I'm miserable in the season doesn't mean I want everyone else to be."

He was still smiling.

Smiling and saying the word miserable all at once. How does that work?

"Then explain the misery to me, Frumpy. You have a job- two of them now-, money- more now-, and most importantly friends and I'm guessing you don't spend your nights holed up in a monastery- not that they would even let you become a monk with that kind of attitude."

Again he laughed. What can I say? Maybe I should do stand up. With the occasional clumsiness and my now routinely hilarious anecdotes I could make millions… maybe more.

"You want to know the deep dark secrets behind the Shields misery?"

He'd stopped laughing and delivered the line with a perfectly stoic face. I almost hesitated-- almost. I could never- probably would never- pass up a chance to enter the illusive mind of Shields. He'd been my nemesis, now my author and whatever else- I'm not sure. Friend- sort of? Maybe more than just sort of. He's my friend.

And now he is challenging me. He doesn't think I'll take the chance. I can tell.

And the worst thing is- basically the only thing I can really think about is the fact that he hadn't countered my comment on the nights alone. It stung a little. I swear, if I didn't know better I'd think that was a tug of jealousy, but I do. It's probably my heartburn.

I answered anyway- ignoring my newest illness.

"Yes, I do."

He looked skeptical- surprised even-, but I stared him down. Thanks to many-a-staring-contests with Mina, I'm good at it. Great even.

And, of course, I won.

Maybe I could beat him at chess sometime… Not likely, Amy's a great teacher but she's no God. I can't even beat Mina in that realm.

And I'm telling you- Mina is definitely not the brain of the group. Love her to death and all- but it's the truth.

He gave another of his shrugs- something I'm now just realizing is a Darien trademark- and actually talked.

To me.

Darien was opening up to me.

And I have no clue why.

That heartburn just keeps getting stronger.

"I told you before how my parents died when I was six?" I nodded slightly in response- not necessarily wanting to see this vulnerable side of Darien but somehow feeling like I needed to see it, to know that he was an actual person with issues, not just my enemy, or just my banter buddy for that matter. "Well, they died, as you've probably guessed, around this time of year. In a few weeks, it'll be the death anniversary. Not Christmas Day or anything nearly so dramatic, but close to the time." He paused for a second, catching stray thoughts maybe, "A week from my birthday too, actually." My eyes widened of their own accord, I can't help that reaction- it's instinctual. "They died in a car accident. We'd gone on a road trip up North for the holidays but I insisted I wanted to be back home with my friends for my birthday- sooner rather than later. They, of course, couldn't resist." He laughed a little self-indulgently now, "Who could resist this face?" I couldn't help my own small smile, but it wasn't quite a laugh because I knew where the story was leading. The unhappy ending… "On the way there was this semitruck or something. I don't actually remember this part- only the memories of what I was told by the doctors at the hospital. The actual accident is nothing in my memory- a blackout maybe, but afterwards was the trauma." I nodded, he seemed hesitant to go on but I wanted him to- again, it was almost a need to understand him on a more human level- actual emotionality. "The doctors told me what happened- that my mother was dead, my father in a coma. I clung on to the hope that he'd make it- I was six, remember that. I thought he'd be fine because my dad was Superman- of course. I even thought that my mom would magically reappear- that the doctors had been wrong because Mrs. Superman- as I'd labeled her- couldn't die. 'Superman will protect her.' That's one of the few things I remember my dad telling me. He loved his heroes- and of course, he wanted his son to think of him as one. Of course, the image sorta died with his death. Superman doesn't die of anything other than Kryptonite and the way I saw it- Kryptonite wasn't anywhere near that bed. I was."

He paused a little and I wasn't at all sure what to say. I've always been the worst person in these kinds of situations.

I've been through it all- pretty much- but I can never seem to actually convey my thoughts or even really be intelligible when someone shares something like that with me.

Cheerful news I love- like Amy's engagement a few weeks ago- but this kind of thing is my greatest weakness.

What can I honestly say?

"Thank you."

Well, that is surprising. I'd said the farthest thing from my mind- or at least it had been but it makes sense somehow.

He raised his eyebrow- the one brow thing I can't do. He didn't understand either.

"Thank you. You know- all those years ago I thought you were a selfish, spoiled brat. I never thought you actually had problems. It sort of gives my teenage bully nice closure. He had issues too."

I smiled. Couldn't help but.

If I'm being honest- at least with myself- I'll admit I put the whole nemesis thing behind me after the note on my almost-death-bed (maybe not quite so dramatic). But I hadn't had a way to really tell him that. I knew it- but he didn't.

I still snap at him- how could he know? But that's not going to change even if he isn't an enemy. It's just my reaction to him- he's the same- but now it's nicer I guess. I don't say things to actually hurt him- it's, I guess, because I'm comfortable with him.

Huh. Who would've thought this day would come?

My smile was reflected in his expression- and I knew I'd made the right move for once. I hadn't messed up and said something absurd or uncaring or anything I'd regret. I'd finally done something right.

"But you should come."

We couldn't sit staring at each other all day- I had to get back to the subject.

He shrugged, "Maybe if there's nothing better to do."

"Ouch." I dramatically put my hand to my heart- the one with the now almost palpable issues (couldn't he hear that?), "That's what my appreciation invitation means to you?"

He laughed, "Oh, now it's your invitation. Two minutes ago you were 'obligated' to share 'their' invite."

I rolled my eyes, "Oh, get with the times gramps. Things change. Go with the flow."

"Gramps? Seriously?"

I laughed a little but didn't say anything. Just stared him down. He was going. Cindy Lou never gave up on her Grinch. I wouldn't give up on mine.

He opened his mouth- I sensed an impending surrender….

And then the intercom beeped.

Crap.

I pressed the button, "Yes Brad?" I couldn't help but exhale a little—his timing sucked. Darien was this close to defeat!

"Mss Tsukino—Mr. Wipple is here to see you."

Hey! Heartburn's gone! That Brad really is a miracle- and his stuttering has gotten better. I'm fairly impressed.

But crap… what'd he just say?

"Mr. Wipple?"

It was dumb of me to repeat the name; I'm not stupid. I'd just forgotten about that appointment.

Crap again.

I looked down at the watch- 12:30.

The meeting with Darien had started an hour earlier- we were just supposed to go over the marketing aspects of the book. The story has already been sent off to the real editors- so they are at work on that and it won't be long until their part is over. The more important stuff for me—and Darien for that matter- to worry about is marketing it. The book cover, the magazines and critics we'd send it to before publishing for reviews to put on the back cover, etc. That whole conversation had probably taken up half our time but then we'd gotten sidetracked, then he'd pissed me off with some remark I can no longer remember, and then I'd given him the invitation, etc, etc.

This meeting was supposed to be over half an hour ago. I was supposed to be prepared for the meeting with Charles Wipple—he's grumpy, demanding, and to be honest- gets on my nerves.

The guy is a mystery book genius but he's gotten… well, let's just say 'humble' is definitely not a word I'd use for him.

And now I have to scramble around my fairly messy office and find his crap—oops, I mean his work.

I really shouldn't even be thinking things like this. He's threatened to switch agencies more than once- but luckily, he never does. He'd been my first big find. I figure, maybe he feels some sort of loyalty. I can only hope.

Not that my career would be in jeopardy or anything without him, but let's just say, Holmes would not be the happiest agency if the unfortunate were to happen.

"One moment Brad. Run get Mr. Wipple some coffee and a donut or something please." I emphasized the 'please' for a number of reasons. Number one being that Brad's job description does not require him to do such things but he is kind and knows Mr. Wipple by now. Number two being that I am desperate for time.

Crap, crap, and crap.

I hadn't had time to dig out his file or even look at it- I was supposed to be updating him, but I'm not even updated!

I hadn't even realized it but I was running around my office with no heed for Darien's presence. I'm never so unprofessional in front of clients but Darien is clearly not my usual case. Let's just say he's special. Always gets to see me at my worst.

"Do I want to know?"

"No." I immediately replied and went back to my search.

AH HA!

"Yes!"

The file was not only right there on top in my drawer, but there was a note from Heather- one of the marketers for Mr. Wipple's book. She'd written everything I need to tell him. God, I love her. I'll have to get her something really nice this season.

Then I remembered my other problem… Darien's still here- I looked up at him to politely escort him out when the intercom went off again.

"Yes, Brad?"

"Mr. Wipple doesn't want the donut. He won't take it."

"Why?" I hadn't really meant to ask, but I was curious. Who would refuse a free donut? Why?

"He says he won't put 'such garbage in his mouth' if I paid him."

I rolled my eyes, but kept my voice even and professional. I was about to speak but…

"Should I pay him?"

I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"No, no. Of course he won't take it. I knew that. Sorry, Brad. Keep the donut- you didn't charge it on your account did you?"

"I did." He sounded so depressed about it.

"Well, your lunch is on Holmes today. Tell Mr. Wipple one moment and I'll be with him."

"He says the building's too hot."

"Fan him or something." I muttered and turned to Darien.

He was staring at me strangely.

"Well, as you can see- my next appointment is here."

"I can see that." He replied but didn't get up. He was smiling now though- so he was being annoying on purpose.

"Thanks so much for your time."

"Yup, no problem." Still with the same smile.

Oh my god.

"Get out." It sounded a little like a whine. Now he flat out laughed-- and got up!

"Just waiting for you to stop being Mss Tsukino." He stuttered the name like Brad always does.

"Well, your Mr. Shields. I can certainly be Ms. Tsukino." I replied as I walked him to the door.

"But your Ms. Tsukino is much more uptight than my Mr. Shields. Mr. Shields is a blast."

I couldn't help but laugh and give him a small shove out the door.

"Goodbye Mr. Shields."

"Good day to you too Ms. Tsukino," The words came out like some sort of Southern gentlemen. The laugh turned into what I can only presume is a giggle… I swear, I've never been giggly. Really. Not since the sixth grade.

As Darien crossed the room, he came upon a very surprising site- for both of us.

Brad stood in front of a lounging Mr. Wipple, holding a folded paper of some sort—fanning Mr. Wipple!

"Oh god! I'm getting fired."

It was muttered under my breath but Darien heard and laughed as he walked out the office doors. He gave a last mocking wave and was gone.