Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The office was warm and smelled faintly of fast food and Gladys' perfume. You tossed a French fry into your mouth, glanced behind Gladys to the window, framed so perfectly it looked more like a painting than reality. Collinsport had turned monochrome with the snow, gray clouds against gray sleet. Small bursts of color here and there across town was the only indication that life existed.

You watched a distant speck of a person hunched against the wind in a bright green coat make their way across the docks. Gladys' voice carried through the quiet office, "I hear that John's leaving because of his baby."

That caught your attention, you glanced back to Gladys, “Renata is pregnant?”

She shook her head slowly, your eyes widened. “No...oh shit.” You sat back in the chair mouth agape, “—you’re telling me.”

Gladys beat you to the punch with a tight lipped smile, “exactly.”

“But what’s Renata going to do?”

“She’s moving in with Todd.”

“They aren’t–”

“No, I think Todd’s boyfriend would have something to say about that.” Gladys sipped her coffee and smiled mischievously, “Though I don’t think Renata’s realized that Todd isn’t interested yet.”

You shook your head gobsmacked, laughing at the drama of it all, Gladys chuckled at your surprise. “Why is it that you and Angie always have the best gossip?” You said, then ate another french fry mulling over the news. 

“It’s Angel Bay.” Gladys said delightedly, “amazing when you want to hear gossip, terrible when you actually have a secret.”

“Unless it’s you or Angie.”

She shrugged, “Angie gets her fair share of gossip.”

“Like?”

“Well, not lately,” she amended, “but when you two started dating?” She grinned, "there wasn't a conversation here, that didn't include you two." 

Your face went warm, and you leaned back, she watched as you flustered further. Fortunately you were saved from a stuttered reply, as the office door opened and a sea of businessmen filed out; you both watched them unbothered. Most kept their heads down, a few nodded to Gladys and you, but in the throngs of slowly familiar faces, there was one new one.

He was younger than most of the businessmen, somewhere around twenty-five if you had to guess, and he lingered near Gladys’ desk. She glanced up at him, you bit down on a laugh as Gladys asked, “can I help you?”

His gaze jumped between the two of you before landing on you, he smiled, and you returned the smile politely, albeit hesitantly. “Do you work at Angel Bay?” He asked you finally, blatantly ignoring Gladys’ question, she didn’t seem bothered by it.

You shook your head, “I’m just visiting for my lunch break.” Gladys watched you knowing and amused, you weren’t sure why. When you glanced at her she wouldn’t hint at what it was. “I’m guessing you’re new?” You asked him, finally, still unsure as to where this conversation was going and what he needed.

He shrugged slightly, readjusted his tie, and you clocked the semi-expensive watch on his wrist. “New, but not inexperienced, I got hired as the nominee director.”

You nodded politely, half-certain that wasn’t true. “That’s great.” Glanced again to Gladys who still was watching this interaction amused and as if there was still something you were missing. He hadn’t left yet, and you were the only one contributing to the conversation at this point so you asked, “what do you think of Collinsport so far?” 

There was movement in the doorway of Angie’s office, and the woman herself appeared. Expression completely neutral; she looked authoritative, and calculating; and so insanely beautiful. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorway. Her fingers dug into the sleeves of her dark red satin shirt. You smiled at the realization that you had picked it out for her. 

A voice continued to drone on, and you glanced back at him, finally turning back to the conversation, trying to follow it. “—still barely know anyone or where anything is.” He smiled, “Maybe you could show me around sometime?” 

Angie moved from the doorway to Gladys’ desk. “Nate, I’m aware you’re new, so I will give you a pass.” She smiled at him saccharinely, Gladys and you shared a look as Angie continued, “I’m happy to give you a brochure or arrange it so that someone can show you around, but I’m afraid my girlfriend is rather busy.” 

He gave a short nod. “Of course, Miss Bouchard.” And made a quick exit from the office.

Angie waited till he was well and truly gone, before she pulled a chair up to the desk. Asked flatly, "he was asking you out, didn't you catch that?"

Gladys chuckled, finally breaking her silence to say. "The moment you walked into the room, I'm fairly certain Y/N forgot he existed."

You sighed at Gladys’ betrayal, and handed Angie her order, “I am still here.” But then conceded, “and I didn’t forget he was there, I just sort of had more pressing things on my mind.”

Angie glanced up to you, “Like?”

You slid her napkins, “your new shirt looks nice.” 

Gladys let out a loud laugh and you changed the subject as your face heated, “Gladys was telling me about what happened between Renata and John.” 

Angie didn’t glance up from her meal, “oh that? That’s nothing, have you heard about…”

-------------------

Your lunch break finished far too soon, and then you returned back to work. Work itself was easy, routine and a rather slow day. Though you knew there were very few slow days left you decided to enjoy this one to the fullest.

Placed festive decorations around the station, a large wreath outside on the building, and checked the string of Christmas lights for burnt out bulbs.

Finally the clock hit five, and you unceremoniously dropped a half inflated inflatable Santa. Called to Warren, "Santa's down." Gave a final wave and left the garage without time to waste.

Angie's car was waiting outside, thrumming; Angie herself watched from the safety of the car as you braved the few steps of snow.

Slid in seamlessly, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "How was work?"

"Not nearly as fun as lunch." She answered, already shifting gears and pulling away from the station. "You?"

"Fine. It was a rather slow day."

She hummed in acknowledgement, rested her hand on your thigh, instinctively you covered her hand. Warmth passed through your slacks easily, you wished Angie was pressed entirely against you if she was that warm.

-------------------

The car’s heater was still blowing full blast, the car was progressing slowly from comfortably warm to overheated and barely bearable, you resisted the urge to peel off two layers of clothing then and there. Both knowing that Angie would insist you put it back on and that you would need it the moment you left the car.

Angie had found a single radio station that had yet to play a Christmas song, and left it on. 

Come on Eileen began to play, you hummed the instrumental part and as the singer began you started to sing too. Angie flicked her hand towards the radio and the station changed instantly, you frowned and turned to look at Angie before it dawned on you.

“Still a sore subject?”

She didn't dignify your question with an answer, but the silence was telling enough; you exhaled sharply in a small laugh, “I could find a song about you, if that’d ease your mind. Beyond the obvious, that is.”

“Beyond the obvious?”

You grinned, and tilted your head towards her, “well every song about being in love is about you, my love.”

She squeezed your thigh, her expression softened in slow degrees practically melting at the endearment. The light changed to yellow. Angie slowed to a stop just as it turned red. Her fingers tapped against your thigh impatiently, and the station changed again, back to the song. You glanced over at her amused that's all it had taken for her to give in. "I don't want to talk about it."

-------------------

The evening was settling in with a blue-gray sky, snow crunched underfoot and a breeze cut through the well lit tree lot as your family trudged through tiredly. Liz, David, and Barnabas were the only ones actively looking at Christmas trees.

You and Angie followed along, Angie pressed against your back with her arms wrapped around you; because it’s so fucking cold, she had mumbled into the crook of your neck at the beginning of the search. Definitely not because she was clingy and cuddly at all.

Carolyn and Julia were dutifully following though far less interested. Victoria and Willie were the voices of reason when it came to how they would get the tree home, shooting down any tree that was too large to reasonably move.

Each and every time Barnabas and Liz both looked put off by the thought of not having a nine-foot-tall tree. “We brought the station wagon.” Julia commented offhandedly after so long, and you weren’t sure in whose favor that comment was towards. Not till Liz smiled at her proudly, and then you knew.

“I think this is the one.” Liz said finally turning back to the trees, you craned your head up to look at the tree. Maybe, Victoria and Willie were right. There was absolutely no way it would fit across the station wagon safely.

“I sure hope so after two hours of searching.” Angie said under her breath, lips brushing just behind your ear, and you smiled.

Liz turned to look at Angie, “Did you say something Angelique?”

“I said it’s a fine choice.” She said slightly louder, with a fake smile directed to your sister. You squeezed her arms, she deliberated after a moment and softened. Liz rolled her eyes with a mumble about ‘idiots in love’ and went in search of finding an employee. Angie pulled you closer and burrowed her face further into the crook of your neck. “When you asked me to come, I assumed this would be a quick affair.”

“It’s tradition.” You offered in response, leaned back against her more, “Would you rather I not invite you next time?”

“Absolutely not. I’m going to be here for every single tradition.” She sighed, and you felt the warmth of her breath against your neck, you shivered pleasantly.

An employee was found, and he was more than happy to handle the transaction up until you directed him to the station wagon. You could see the immediate realization that this wasn’t going to work. Still, he was determined, and perhaps it helped to have Angie by your side. Especially as more employees began to strap the tree down onto the car, then he spoke up. “We have your tree already in order, Miss Bouchard. Should be delivered on the second.”

She smiled, “excellent, thank you.”

Then it went quiet again, and the three of you stood in the snowy lot with distant Christmas music playing, watching as the station wagon creaked in protest at being strapped down by a nine-foot tree. 

-------------------

In the end the tree made it home, mind-numbingly slow. Willie drove the station wagon, with Liz shotgun and Barnabas in the back. You followed behind in your car, with everyone else. Everyone packed a little too tightly, while the radio played overly cheery Christmas songs, per David’s request. It was almost comical if not for the terrifying possibility that the tree might fall off the station wagon.

Then everyone was safely at Collinswood, clambering out of your car to stretch and complain, but the next hard part came when you needed to fit the tree inside and set it up. The semantics didn’t truly matter to you, though you watched with a level of fondness and grievance as your family all argued on the best way to fit it in.

Finally, it was decided, and then came the actual heavy lifting that originally had taken four of the men from the tree lot and a substantial amount of leveraging. It took under two minutes for Barnabas and Angie to adjust the tree and set it up. Supernatural strength and magic did have some advantages, you would concede.

All-in-all tree hunting took much more out of everyone, and no one was willing to dedicate any more energy to searching for the cardboard boxes full of Christmas decorations that were hidden somewhere in the house. 

Everyone dispersed to their own rooms as night approached, and you found yourself searching through the kitchen for a light snack before bed. You had the opening shift in the morning and while coffee seemed appealing you knew you would regret it.

In the darkness of the kitchen the only light offered was from the inside of the fridge as you tried to decide on some leftovers or a quick egg sandwich. Light footsteps approached and the kitchen light flickered on suddenly, you scowled towards the doorway to see Liz standing there. “Why did you turn that on?”

She stared at you surprised, caught off guard to find you slouching in search of food, illuminated only by the light of the fridge. “Why were you standing in the dark?”

You pointedly glanced to the kitchen windows and the inky abyss that waited outside it, “Because it’s night.”

“It’s five.”

You stared out the kitchen window again, and tried to remind yourself about the time change. Accepted defeat with a quiet, “I wake up at four, sue me.” Before you turned and decided on some leftovers.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and you reheated the leftovers as Liz stood near the counter. The microwave quietly buzzed, and you watched the timer countdown methodically. 

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” Liz asked abruptly.

You paused. Processed the statement. Then glanced towards your sister, hesitantly said, “...I hadn’t considered it today?”

Liz poured herself a cup of coffee and continued the interrogation casually, “I mean legality wise, is that something you might be interested in?”

The microwave beeped, but you stared at your sister with absolute confusion. “Where is this coming from?”

“Well, I visited the family mausoleum today.” She answered, before taking a slow sip of coffee.

“Oh.” You sighed, turning back to the microwave, and answered as easily as one might when faced with this conversation. “I wouldn’t be against marriage, but it’s not exactly a pressing thing on my mind.” You paused a moment more, “The family graveyard has more than enough room if I chose that route.” Then shrugged and left it at that.

Meal in hand you murmured a goodnight to your sister and left the kitchen, but didn’t leave the discussion. Your mind supplying more than enough questions to keep you entertained. None of them exactly appealing thoughts. Rather the most pressing one on your mind was Angie. What you and Angie had was great, amazing, and by far the healthiest relationship you’ve ever had. But was it marriage worthy?

You were well aware of your feelings towards Angie. Well aware of that dream months ago with a ring on Angie’s finger and a matching one on yours. But were you worth the commitment in Angie’s eyes?

You paused. Even if you were, would you continue to age while Angie stayed the same? Which brought up many more problems, with little to no solutions. All because of the family mausoleum, you thought bitterly.

-------------------

The night was spent tossing and turning, turns out stressful questions before bed doesn’t help induce sleep. Who knew?

Four a.m. rolled around and you were grateful to get out of bed, but regretful that the day had already begun. Begrudgingly you got dressed and stepped out into the cold air. Your breath puffed up in the morning air, and you walked briskly to your car, scraped the ice off your windshield and started the car.

Music played the moment the car started, I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas played louder than you anticipated and you yelped. Turned it down instantly, and sat in the empty car cold and tired. Finally, you put the car in gear, and mumbled under your breath the lyrics, changing the words a hippopotamus to sleep. 

-------------------

At the three-hour mark of your shift, aka just as Angie was arriving at work—you called. Stood next to the landline and mindlessly played with the phone cord as Gladys transferred you through. The day was spent in agonizing slowness, time trickled by with the speed of molasses. You still had five hours left…

She picked up the phone, static crackled on the line, and you launched into your question without so much as a hello. “I get my lunch break at twelve thirty, what do you want from the diner?”

There was a momentary pause before she sighed, "I have an important meeting during that time."

You quelled the disappointment, and recovered quickly; "That's fine. I'll see you tonight?"

"Tonight, I already bought the groceries."

"Right," you paused, hoping to stretch out a second or two more of her presence, "I love you."

"I love you too." She repeated back; you smiled. Angie always had the ability to make that sentence sound as emotional and vulnerable as the first time she had said it. And you never got tired of telling her that. "See you tonight."

Then the line clicked, and you went back to work.

-------------------

Work itself was fine. Slow. But routine, so much so that you barely questioned why you were called to Johnson's office. Half expecting him to tell you to go to lunch early, you were surprised when he asked you to sit down. You did so hesitantly. Looked across from your boss and waited for him to speak first. 

Observed him quick and appraisingly. He was a large man, both in stature and in presence--though you imagined it was hard not to have a presence when you were a burly 6'4, 260 pound man that looked like he was a lumberjack as a child. He was a gruff, blunt, and to the point but never unkind man. Which is why you took some comfort in knowing that if you had screwed up, he wouldn't drag it out.

He didn't wait long, leaned back in his chair and asked. "Do you mind handling the summarized contribution for the department?" 

"Not at all." Tapped your index finger rhythmically against the wooden arm of the chair. "When do you expect it?"

"Do you think the twentieth is reasonable?"

"I can manage it; if someone else takes over the tree lighting ceremony."

He seemingly already accounted for that, "Warren and a few of the guys will handle it."

"Anything else?"

"No, you're good." You gave a small nod and started towards the door. "Actually–" You turned. "Go ahead and take your lunch."

-------------------

Despite the early lunch by twenty minutes it still wasn't early enough to squeeze in a quick stop to see Angie. It took at least ten minutes to get the food, and arrive at Angel Bay, and the ten minutes with Angie would be cut short by her collecting papers and prepping for the meeting. Leaving you to listlessly drown your sorrows in hot chocolate at Gladys' desk while Gladys herself would watch on sympathetic, but amused.

Not that you had any of this down to a science.

Instead you called your sister; then those ten minutes were spent getting your sister’s order and making your way through your family’s cannery up the stairs to knock at Liz’s door for a millisecond before opening it. To find Angie sitting in the chair across from Liz. Angie looked pleasantly surprised; Liz looked caught off guard. You narrowed your eyes at Angie, “I thought you were in a meeting and that’s why you couldn’t have lunch with me.”

“I was.” Angie amended, standing. “It just ended.”

“You never told me it was with Liz.”

"Don't be jealous, sweetheart." Angie teased, already stepping closer to take your hand.

You scoffed, walked past Angie to set the bag of takeout on Liz’s desk. Your attention turned to your sister who was more liable to put your mind at ease, and because you knew Angie wanted your attention. “How’s your day been?”

Elizabeth’s focus had already smoothly moved to her meal as she picked up the bag. “Fine.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a meeting with Angie.”

She glanced up long enough to shrug, “I assumed you knew.”

“As fun as it is for the two of you to ignore me, I really should go.” Angie spoke up, you turned to glance at her.

Just as you were about to ask why she didn't want to stay, Liz offered, "Why don't you walk Angelique out?"

You glanced between the two suspiciously, there wasn’t that usually icy tension that came with the two of them conversing. If anything there was a begrudging respect? Admiration? Whatever it was was new and odd, and worryingly suspicious.

On the list of oddities you had experienced in your life, Angie and Liz getting along was at the near top of 'what the fuck experiences' right next to being the awkward third-wheel with Barnabas and Vicky to the fair that one time. They had an argument right before leaving Collinswood, and the three of you stayed in the house of mirrors nearly the entire night.

Currently you half expected Barnabas to pop around the corner with funnel cake. Such was your distress. It wasn't to say they couldn't get along, but they truly only ever bonded over the idea of protecting family, and hating random townspeople for reasons beyond you.

Angie, sensing your hesitancy, offered her arm out to you. Never one to deny spending even a passing minute with Angie, you walked her out of the office. Took her arm, even if she had mockingly offered it. And ignored the sinking suspicion.

The two of you left the office and started down the stairs, said just loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of machines, but quiet enough that no one else overheard. “So are you going to tell me why you had a meeting with Liz?”

She brushed her fingers distractedly down your arm, gaze fixed ahead. “I wanted to ask her how your family usually celebrated the holidays, that way I could do everything right.” Her voice low, and barely heard over the machinery noise.

You ached at the ‘ -could do everything right;’ both because of the romance, and the tenderness you felt at such an admission. She wanted to fit seamlessly into your family, and she wanted you to notice. Both realizations left you a little breathless.

You squeezed her arm gently, melted despite the nagging in the back of your mind that still couldn’t quite grasp the events from five minutes ago. Still your voice was full of fondness when you asked, “And if I asked Liz, she’d say the same?”

Angie looked at you, focused and gentle. "Of course."

And you knew she was lying. 

Knew in all the time you've known her she would be caught dead before being caught out being so openly vulnerable with her emotions—especially to Liz of all people.

That wasn't to say she wasn't open about her emotions, but only on her terms. And you had caught her being nice to Liz which was even more confusing and worrying than if she had flipped Liz off the minute you walked in.

You decided to politely ignore whatever was obviously going on and helped her with her coat, then her scarf. "Don't forget I'm making dinner tonight."

She hummed in acknowledgement, "What's dinner again?"

"Honey pomegranate chicken."

"Diedre's recipe?"

You hummed in agreement, then reminded her with a kiss on the cheek, "Don't be late."

-------------------

By the time you returned to Liz’s office she was finished with her meal, already writing things down. You didn’t bother with the pleasantries and plausible deniability, “She came here to brag about her Christmas gifts, didn’t she?”

Elizabeth looked up, stopped for just a moment before she replied. “It wasn’t necessarily bragging.”

“No?” You took the seat across from her, “Did she come to ask about what kind of presents I’d like?”

Her expression shifted into consideration, then she turned back to her list. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

You sighed, slumped into the chair, “I need to find her a good gift.”

Liz slowly slid your meal towards you, “I imagine she has everything she could ever want.”

Gratefully you took the takeout box, “that’s the problem.” Halfway through your meal your focus turned to her again, “on a scale of one to ten though, how all out should I go for her? Based on her plans for me.”

“Ten.” She answered flatly, which didn’t help your situation at all.

-------------------

The tree was already up and in place when you arrived home that evening. It was almost impressive how nothing was out of place, beyond a single card from the tree lot manager, with a ‘ Happy holidays! ’ written in quick blue ballpoint pen.

You set towards starting dinner, and then dinner was finished. Then the minutes ticked by slowly.

The hours ticked by even slower.

Nine-forty.

She was supposed to be home by now; had known it was dinner together for the past two nights. You laid on the couch, head against the arm of the couch, legs tucked under you. You sighed and stared at the blank television screen, your reflection staring back

Exhaustion started to creep back in, the reminder that you had woken up at four in the morning starting to make itself well known. Your eyes slid close, but your mind still ran a mile a minute, you would need to put dinner up sooner, wash the dishes, crawl into bed, set—There was a soft brush against your cheek, and you stirred away from it. The couch dipped, and you glared blearily up at Angie who looked soft and sad. “What’s wrong?” You murmured, words slurred and voice rougher than normal.

“Nothing.” She said softly, cupped your face and looked at you so tenderly. “Go back to sleep.”

Your eyes closed, but you refused to let this go, let Angie go. “Lay down with me.”

Angie moved onto the couch like she had been waiting for you to ask, like she had been barely resisting the urge to crawl onto the couch with you. She laid partially on top of you, and you welcomed the weight and warmth. 

“Did you wait for me?” She asked softly.

You hummed in agreement, added disappointedly, “You didn’t come.”

“Business got away from me.”

Half asleep again, you couldn’t resist pushing Angie’s buttons slightly. Turned your head, pulled Angie closer, and asked sleepily. “Why do I feel like home when you’re near?” She shivered against you, her hand slid across your back to pull you even closer and you couldn’t mistake the delight in her voice when she asked.

“Oh?” Her mouth brushed a light kiss against your temple, “since when?” She wanted details, she wanted to be told of how much she meant to you, and how much you loved her, needed her.

“I don’t know.” You said softly, “It’s one of those realizations that when it finally occurs to you, you realize it’s been true for a while.”

“I’m sorry for making you wait on me,” she said quietly after a moment. “I got tied up with a few things, and then I had a present to buy for you.” You glanced up at her suddenly and she smiled, “I’m not telling you what it is.”

Accepting defeat you settled back against the couch and let your eyes shut again. She sighed, "Have you already eaten?"

“I saved a plate for you in the microwave.”

She pressed forward and kissed you sweetly. Climbed off the couch and you listened as she walked over, listened to the buzz of the microwave, and the cancel button being used at presumably one second left. A drawer opened and the clink of the utensil against the plate made itself known. Finally, the couch dipped again, and Angie sat next to you.

You forced your eyes open again, and watched her fondly, said after a moment. "I need to talk with you."

She held the plate closely, fork primed and ready. "You have my complete attention." But her focus dropped to the food not a moment later. You smiled.

"Work will increase my hours for the next few weeks." You rolled onto your back and stared at the slanted ceilings and exposed wood beams, "It's nothing unusual Christmas time is just usually the most accident-prone time. Coupled with the fact that I'll be writing a summary of the events the department has overseen." You paused hesitantly, turning to face Angie again. "I'm not going to have as much time to see you as I usually do. My family already knows this, but it's one downside to my job."

She twisted the fork in her hand, "I have to go to New York for a business meeting." She said rather suddenly.

"Oh?"

"I wanted to surprise you tomorrow morning." Her gaze drifted back to her plate, a slight blush to her face. "Make it seem like a romantic thing over breakfast, but...I leave in two days."

"Two days?" You repeated slowly, still in that haze of sleep. "How long will you be gone?"

"Three days."

Which wasn't too long in the grand scheme of things, and you would already be busy. Admittedly you didn't think there had ever been a point where you had gone three days without seeing Angie. There was always a point where you would inevitably run into each other, and she made it a point more often than not to see you on a fairly regular basis. "We'll make it work."

-------------------

Angie had coaxed you into bed, eventually. And when you woke the next morning she was asleep on top of you comfortably. Semi-diagonal across you, with a hand up your shirt, and sound asleep. 

After several minutes of slowly disentangling and shimmying, you slipped off the bed, and out of the room. The day was just beginning, sunlight poured through cracks in the curtains, the coffeemaker gurgled to life; and there was a level of excitement for your plans. 

A quick breakfast was made. Scrambled eggs and toast while Angie was still peacefully asleep. You hummed to yourself as the coffee began to drip. 

Angie was slightly less than chipper at waking up to an empty bed, but she was quick to forgive when you already had breakfast and a cup of coffee waiting for her at the table. She took her seat across the table from you. Looking thoroughly disheveled, messy bedhead, and still in that stage where she was glaring at everything, more to do with the sunlight than any actual grumpiness. It didn't keep you from staring at her fondly, watching as she cut her toast into triangles and sipped at her coffee contemplatively. She glanced up after a moment and you were quick to look busy as if you hadn't been caught obviously staring. 

Asked rather quickly, “If you’re leaving, who'll be planning the Christmas banquet?” That landed on the 8th if you were counting right, and Angie had always planned it out. Always made it lavish and fun, and begrudgingly your family would go every year.

“I think it’s time to leave it up to someone else.” She said unaffectedly.

Leaving it up to anyone else on the town council would end in disaster, you knew that for certain. It wasn’t per say that everyone was grossly incompetent, though that was true for most of the council. Rather it was a testament to Angie’s organizational skills that she could host the entire party singlehandedly.

You also knew Angie well enough to know that hosting the Christmas banquet was something she enjoyed almost as much as being praised.

Which is when you made the decision you knew you would end up regretting—organizing the Christmas banquet while she was gone. “What if I took over the planning?”

Her eyebrows rose instantly, “Is that something you want?”

“I don’t know. It could be fun.” You shrugged, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, “Plus, at least I have you on hand if I want to ask questions.”

She went quiet, and you regretted bringing it up, until she spoke, “Sweetheart, when I mentioned New York–I want you to come with me.”

-------------------

Gladys' house smelled of freshly baked bread, and already baking cookies. It had the distinct feel of a grandmother's house, or what you imagined all the movies felt like. Warmth radiated through the place, cozy armchairs and quilts, as far as the eye could see.

Angie set the bags of presents down, and you continued to carry the groceries to the kitchen. Barely had set them on the counter when Gladys turned to you. “I have a favor to ask of you.” 

You stood straighter, “Anything.”

“There’s lights in the garage, but with Jim’s back…would you mind?”

“It’s no big deal.” You answered, pulling your jacket back on, already making your way to the garage. You started to untangle the lights and Jim came out to help you. You pulled the ladder out and lugged it all the way to the front yard before slowly expanding it. 

Angie helped Gladys set out a few plastic Christmas decorations in the yard while Jim helped to align the ladder for you. “Across the roof, anywhere else?” 

“No, Gladys and I already have a plan for the rest of the house. But thank you.”

You nodded, grabbed a string of lights, a hammer and several nails; then ascended the ladder. It was easy work to put the nails in, even easier to hook the lights along. You descended the ladder, and grabbed another set, before repeating the process. Finally after a good twenty minutes or so, you felt proud to slide down the ladder and survey your handiwork thus far. 

Obviously you would have to wait until it was dark, before you could actually tell if you had done it right. But considering it was already three, and the sun set at four, you wouldn’t have to wait long. 

Inside was warm and exactly as comforting as you wanted. Angie was helping Gladys in the kitchen and you followed the sound of her voice, entered the kitchen and the conversation suddenly tapered off the minute you walked in. A moment of awkward silence passed before Gladys asked you, “How’re the lights coming along?”

“Oh, we’re finished actually, they should be good, but if you need help getting them down. I’m happy to help.” 

Gladys smiled, “Thank you, Y/N.” Then reached over to a plate of cookies, “Here, have a cookie.”

Wafer-thin, and when you bit into it you caught the gingersnap flavor, immediately followed by a sweetness that cut any spice from the ginger. “Oh my god.”

"That good?" Gladys asked, grinning.

Angie finally pushed off the counter she had been leaning on, "Gladys acts as if she hasn't won every baking competition she's ever entered."

Gladys for her part looked abashed momentarily, before adding, "I came in second place to Maureen Shepard, once."

Angie hummed, "And when exactly was that?"

"1951."

"Have you been in a competition with her since?" You asked.

The timer went off and you both shuffled about to let Gladys open the oven, she continued, "Of course, and I've beaten her ever since, but lord knows she won't let me forget about it."

Angie and you shared a look of amusement, before you bit into the cookie again, asked around the cookie. "So what have you two been up to here?"

Angie then passed you another gingersnap, "Nothing of importance, sweetheart."

Right. The awkward silence the moment you entered the room had been totally normal.

-------------------

Once everything had settled and darkness had crept in at the ever so late five o’clock, Gladys had disappeared looking for her reading glasses and Jim went to ask the neighbors for a cup of sugar. Leaving you and Angie to sink into the plush armchair and couch respectively. The living room lights were dimmed and the Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner of the room, ornaments reflected perfectly, like some window shop display. 

Like some advertisement or movie about Christmas that you watched as a kid and internalized as what Christmas was, and then proceeded to hope for each year after. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" Angie asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded distractedly, "Fine, it's just occurring to me this is what Christmas is like for most people."

"Decorating?"

"I don't know, enjoying Christmas, and not worrying about distant family trying to rob me?" 

She turned her head towards you, and smiled. "Is that a family tradition of yours?"

You scoffed, "Not one that bears repeating.”

She watched you for a moment more, “you look as if you’re having an existential crisis.” She mused. 

“Fuck, maybe I am.” You focused back on Gladys’ tree, and considered your vein of thought again. “This feels like one of those moments where what you assumed to be normal childhood things, were actually insane compared to other people’s experiences, you know?”

She hummed in acknowledgement, and you surmised that she didn’t fully know what you were talking about. Being raised a witch in the eighteenth century was probably explicitly different, and there was never a moment she considered her childhood normal. She asked rather haltingly, “Do you enjoy Christmas?”

You considered the question momentarily before shrugging, “I mean well enough?” Tore your focus away from the shining ornaments to find Angie watching and waiting for you to elaborate. Spurred, you did. “You know my family, and you know how we are. Christmas always seemed nice for others but ended in some argument or long-lost family relatives trying to get money out of us.”

“And you’re starting to want to celebrate it like this?” She gestured around the living room, the tree and the presents and gingersnap cookies. A perfect Christmas environment, what probably constituted a normal person’s Christmas. If advertisements and movies were any indication. 

“I’m not about to go around singing carols,” you deadpanned. “But I wish I might’ve had a chance at something like this.” You focused on the presents already under the tree, wrapped with bows. Gladys was a professional at Christmas apparently, barely the fourth day into the month and she was already finished shopping. 

“We could celebrate it like normal people.” She said easily.

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

She smiled and leaned forward, “Let me take you to New York.”

“Oh a very smooth segue, I barely caught the fact that I already said no.” You teased.

She rolled her eyes, “And I should do what? Leave you here to plan the town’s Christmas banquet with little to no idea how to do it?”

“That’s what normal people do, don’t they?” You smiled, “throw parties?”

Footsteps approached and Gladys walked through the living room, catching the tail end of that conversation. “Who’s throwing a party?”

You turned to her, but Angie beat you to the punch. “She wants to throw the town’s Christmas banquet.”

Gladys smiled, “Oh that’s wonderful.” She gestured towards Angie, “Especially since we most likely weren’t going to have one while you were away.”

Angie, seemingly to know that she was on the losing end, quieted. You deliberated and moved to sit beside her on the other couch, as Gladys started towards the kitchen calling for Jim to check and see if she still had the numbers from last year’s Christmas banquet. 

It was now your turn to ask, rather softly, “do you enjoy Christmas?”

She seemed to forgive you for winning the argument, for now. “It’s never been an especially large part of my life; I’ve kept up appearances for the sake of it, of course. But I want to enjoy this one.”

“Then we’ll go all out for it.” You agreed. “Like normal people do.”

-------------------

You stood in the spray of the shower, blissfully burning. Didn’t step out until you felt your muscles had melted and all that was left was sinew and bone. The day had passed lazily, you enjoyed your time with everyone, and enjoyed helping. But felt the ache of a long day anyways. The mirror had fogged up and you wiped a quick hand across it, your reflection was still blurry but you could see that you still had all muscle and skin. 

Faintly you heard music from beyond the door, and began to dry off, glanced around for your change of clothes to find the bathroom empty; you dried and searched the bathroom. To no avail.

Finally wrapping the towel around your waist you ventured into the bedroom, Angie’s back to you as she set folded clothes into her suitcase. “Have you seen my shirt?” 

The record player sat on the dresser, spinning idly by as Sinatra’s New York, New York played. A bit too on the nose, you mused. Angie turned to glance over you, her gaze lingering on you for much longer than necessary, a pleased smile forming. “They’re in the suitcase.”

“Angie,” you sighed, moving to grab your clothes out of the suitcase. “I can’t go.”  

You pulled your shirt on, and could practically picture Angie’s disappointed expression, turned around to confirm that she was frowning ever so slightly. “And why not?” 

You smiled, and sighed again. “Because I have work, and someone needs to set up everything for the Christmas party.”

“Why not both leave, and let them deal with it however they shall.”

“Because we’re both too much of perfectionists to leave it at that.” You reached over to grab your underwear, and she took your hand before you could grab it. 

Angie let out a hum of acknowledgement, slowly pulled you towards her. “But sweetheart, think about it. Christmas in New York.” She stepped closer, voicing dropping lower. “I could take you ice skating, and shopping.” The record player started again, something much slower, and you glanced at the record player to see it moving on its own accord. “Think about how nice it would be for a vacation.” 

Your focus returned to Angie, “But it isn’t a vacation, you’re going there for business.”

“Well yes, but–”

"And if I came along you would want to spend more time there and stretch out the business part." Pulled her closer and sighed dramatically, played into that possessiveness that made her weak in the knees. "I don't like to share you."

Her face flushed slightly, eyes already half-lidded, "Sometimes I think you'd be better at business negotiations than I would."

You chuckled and began to pull away, already glancing over the half full suitcase. "But I wouldn't look half as hot as you do in those suits."

She set a loose hand along your jaw and directed your focus back to her, you followed along willingly. "I beg to differ." Her expression so solidly contemplative, as if she was picking out the best way to take you apart.

A moment more passed before she kissed you, a soft brush of the lips that always left you breathless at how tender she was. Before she sunk her teeth into your bottom lip and completely unraveled you.

-------------------

Nine o’clock rolled around and you kissed Angie goodbye, before heading to work. Hummed along to the radio half distracted by the day’s events. It hadn’t been bad. The decorating was fun, and you enjoyed visiting with Gladys; but you wished you could have spent the evening with Angie longer.

Her arm would have been thrown carelessly over you by now, cheek pressed against the back of your neck as the two of you sleepily carried on a slowly dwindling conversation. You switched radio stations and ignored the longing settling into your chest.

Dutifully you clocked in, and began the night shift. Rounding corners, and down hallways until you came to an often overlooked door. It was a testament to how overlooked it was that despite the lock on the door, it was never actually locked. 

Inside file cabinets lined the room neatly, a single plywood table sat in the middle of the room with a mildly uncomfortable looking desk chair pushed in. Fluorescent lights buzzed quietly, and a single tube had gone out near the corner of the room, giving it an odd half lit look. You sat down at the chair, grabbed a notebook and a pen. 

Only the start of your day. 

After several hours of reviewing and noting the past year’s expenses for the fire department, along with what town events they had overseen. You were barely through June. Perhaps it hadn’t been the best idea to schedule the decorating right before a night shift. And on top of that there would still be planning for the town hall Christmas party.

Sometime around two am, Warren knocked at the open door and you barely moved from your seat. “A drunk driver hit a fence. They say he’s fine, but we need to double check.” 

Warren drove the ambulance, as a tow truck was called, and you rode shotgun, bundled up and staring distractedly at the road ahead while distant dates floated through your mind. The siren was off, but the spiraling red and blue illuminated the long stretch of road, catching the snowflakes, throwing everything into blue and red, round and round. 

Roughly two miles out of town, the driver had clipped a fence and drifted, the tow truck was already there, and Warren stepped out of the car to talk with the driver and check for a concussion.

The driver was talking with the towman and gesturing exaggeratedly. Meanwhile there was Sheriff Hope talking with a different man. They were glancing at the fence, you guessed the man owned the fence, and sure enough they seemed to settle on something and the man disappeared down a gravel path. 

You sat and observed the scene unfold with a level of disconnect, only experienced by stoners and insomniacs. Sheriff Hope took over the drunk driver, and let the towman do his job, eventually getting the car up and secured. By that point Warren had already checked the man over and gotten dragged into a conversation, and then dragged Hope into a conversation. 

Finally, after a solid twenty minutes Warren climbed back in and slammed the door shut. A wave of cold air rolled through the car, and you sat up straighter. "All good?" You asked, blinking over at him. 

He nodded, "It's alright."

-------------------

You arrived home exhausted, body aching in protest and unfair treatment. You stripped out of your clothes and crawled into bed next to Angie. Under the safety of the blankets and the warmth of Angie, you took a slow breath, closing your eyes.

Two breaths later, and the alarm behind you shrieked loudly. 

Blindly you reached and hit the alarm with startling accuracy. Angie stirred beside you, but your eyes were too dry to open so soon again. Hair tickled your cheek, and there was a quick kiss against your chin. Covers were overturned on Angie’s side of the bed, and you listened to Angie getting ready for her day, drifting in and out of sleep every few moments. 

There was a brush against your forehead, a murmured, “I love you.” Angie’s voice all soft, and weighted. You turned towards her, and reached out for her hand. She took your hand instantly. “What time did you get home?”

“Seven.”

She hummed displeased, leaned back towards you and pressed another fleeting kiss to your cheek. “Get some sleep.”

“I will. Have a good day.” You murmured. Then promptly fell asleep.

-------------------

Sunlight poured throughout the window and you stirred slowly. The house was quiet, and you laid there working up the energy to crawl out of bed. Watching the fan spin idly above. You checked the alarm clock to see the red numbers proudly announcing twelve-twenty. You sighed, forced yourself out of bed and onto the topic of planning a party for the town.

Angie had given you a list of things to double check, to ensure everything was ready for the party. Then you had called Gladys and asked if there was anything else to add to that list, which ended with Gladys drafting up another list for you.

It wasn't necessarily hard work, but it was tedious standing next to the phone with a pen and paper and making call after call. Catering? Done. Townhall? Notified. Decorators? Scheduled. 

Truth be told it was easy for the most part, everyone seemed to already be under the impression the party was still happening. Angie seemingly hadn't broken the news to anyone she would be out of town, and you knew if you went with her it would leave the rest of the council scrambling the day of.

Finished with Angie's list, you moved a quarter of the way through Gladys' list. Slowly growing more and more fed up with how underappreciated they both were in orchestrating town events. After your twelfth call of the day, you moved onto your daily routine. 

You had already dressed, finished your workout, and were halfway through making lunch for yourself when you heard the front door open and shut. "Sweetheart." Angie's voice came mildly surprised, you turned to glance at her. "I thought you'd still be in bed."

You shrugged, "I have a lot to do the next few days, figured I'd get an early start on it." Her hands were behind her back, "What do you have?" 

"A present." She offered, "Your present, now look at the cabinets."

"Angie—"

She pointed insistently, and your body turned instantly, you sighed, "You didn't have to use magic for me to turn around you know." 

She didn't say anything, though you could hear footsteps, you stared at the cabinets, called out louder, "I'm going to burn our lunch, if—"

You turned instantly again, to find Angie sitting at the counter, "sorry, sweetheart." But you were too focused on flipping the food and not burning it. 

Finally you risked another glance at her, "What are you doing home?"

"I took the rest of the day off," she shrugged, "I wanted to spend some more time together before I left."

"And my present?" You teased.

"You will get on the twenty-fourth." She said firmly. "Just like all the rest."

It was only the eighth and yet there were at least eight presents under the tree, each with your name on them; and none for Angie. "What do you want for Christmas?" You asked rather suddenly. 

She smiled, one of those smug and prideful and endlessly fond ones. "I have everything I need."

You shook your head exasperated, "Says the person getting coal in their stocking."

She grinned, "Are you implying I'm on the naughty list?" 

"Don't start—"

She hummed, "You can't just set me up for something that perfect and not let me." 

"Fine, fine, go ahead." 

She waved you off, "the moment's gone, sweetheart, I'll wait for the next one."

Which was how the conversation on Christmas decorations began, and how you found yourself walking down the hallway looking for the third door on the left in search of Angie's Christmas decorations.

You followed down the hall, the first door on the left was an empty bedroom, the second door the same, but the third on the left was…different from the other rooms, bookshelves and tables with bowls and books and you stepped into the room instinctively. There was undeniably a cauldron there, like it was pulled straight from some Halloween movie, and you were already losing interest in finding the Christmas decorations. 

Especially when you turned and glanced at the writing on the wall. It was a rather large paper tacked onto the wall, a family tree by the looks of it, and on closer inspection you realized it was your family tree.

The beginning had Joshua Collins — Naomi Collins, followed by year of birth and death for each and right next to it a small appendage, “Death by seahorse statue.” 

Barnabas was below them, his year of birth, followed by an em-dash, no death date, and no appendage. Next to Joshua Collins was another person Jeremiah Collins. 

Two children, Quentin and Gabriel Collins. Quentin, appended next to his death date. “Death by petrification.” Died at age twenty-nine. 

Gabriel meanwhile had four children. Two had appendages next to their deaths, “Death by spontaneous combustion.” And, “Death by heart attack.” Aged thirty-seven and fifty-two, respectively.

The tree unfurled more and more, each with appendages for every generation of your family. Some names you recognized from ghosts, some you vaguely remembered from portraits. And as you got farther and farther you started to recognize more and more names. 

A few had small sticky notes attached like ‘Death by shark attack??’ or ‘Possibly curse—check later’ soon enough your gaze landed on the real prize. Elizabeth Stoddard-Collins the year she was born, and no appendage, same for Roger. Carolyn had a sticky note on hers that simply said “werewolf” and then Laura had an appendage, “Death by boating accident.” Followed by a sticky-note with a question mark on it. 

And then there was your name. A disconnected line from you to your father, and glancing at the whole tree entirely you supposed you were the first bastard child of the Collins name. Or at the very least the only one that Angie had ever kept track of. 

There were no appendages to your name, but there were several sticky notes in place around you. 

“Curse?”

“Dinner?”

“Fuck.”

Wonderfully sentimental of Angie to still have those there. She entered the room not a moment later, “It’s the third door on the right.” You hummed in acknowledgment and glanced again through the long list of people. She stepped closer, “…you found the family tree.”

You turned to smile at her, “You’re so obsessive sometimes.”

She watched you appraisingly, “Are you angry?”

“Are you still trying to curse my family?” You asked conversationally.

“No.” She sighed, “No, this was before us, and now I can’t exactly get rid of it because it incriminates me in several crimes.”

“Your first crime was what, two thousand years ago?” 

She offered you a dirty look and you smiled lovingly, she continued. “Nonetheless, I didn’t want you to see it and think I was still hellbent on destroying your family.”

“No you’ve just been wondering what to do with me lately,” you leaned forward and pulled at the sticky note next to your name that simply said, Fuck. “Anything you want to add?”

“I wrote this when we were still faking our relationship.” She explained, “I thought if nothing else I wanted to fuck you.”

“Oh that makes me feel so much better about this.” You deadpanned, placing it back next to your name.

-------------------

Fifteen boxes. Fifteen boxes worth of Christmas decorations that you had moved from the third door on the right all the way to the living room. Angie did her part dutifully as soon as you set each box down she was soon opening it and sorting through. 

“I thought you said you didn’t do much for the holidays.” You said finally setting down the last box. 

“Well you know it’s a rather big holiday, I’ve just collected a few things from over the years.” She said casually, and you nodded like you could relate. You approached the largest box and made quick work of the tape. Opening it to come face to face with the most terrifying looking Santa decoration you’ve seen. “Holy shit.” Angie stood immediately and rounded you to peer into the box. 

“Oh,” she lifted the Santa out of it easily, then smiled unaware of your silent fear. “This’ll be perfect right next to the front door.” 

She carried it over and sat it in the entryway, so perfectly angled that his eyes followed you no matter where you stood. “So, how long have you had that one?” You asked, trying to be polite, but not-so-subtly avoiding eye contact with the Santa that was attempting to stare into your soul. 

“I got it in 1907?” She remarked casually, like it wasn’t sixty years ago. “Maybe it was 1908?” She shrugged, then went onto the next box. You watched her go about it and considered the best way to approach the topic.

“Do you think that maybe we might want to downsize a few of your boxes?”

She barely seemed bothered by the prospect, “That’s probably for the best,” then pulled out several nutcrackers in various sizes and levels of creepiness. She set them on the mantelpiece, and you watched her work. 

“...are those also from 1907?”

“No, this one was 1873, sweetheart.” She said oh so casually, then adjusted one next to it, “and this one was from last year.” She set the empty box on the floor and turned her focus to you, “How does your family decorate for Christmas?”

“Liz has her Christmas village, which is a room specifically dedicated to all her figurines with the tiny Christmas looking village, you know?” You moved one of the empty boxes aside, “Christmas lights typically, stockings, ornaments…the usual.”

“No nutcrackers?” She asked and you couldn’t tell if she was fucking with you or not. 

“No. Something about them has just never appealed to us.”

She hummed, you glanced back at the nutcracker whose painted teeth gleamed in the setting sunlight, “You don’t think it’s possible that with your Christmas decorations being stored so closely to magical items that it might like…let the nutcrackers become sentient or something…do you?”

Angie didn’t even flinch at the question, “That shouldn’t be a worry of yours sweetheart,” she said so gently, “if anything you should be worried about the Santa.”

Your focus snapped back to the creepy grinning Santa in the entryway. God you hoped she was joking.

-------------------

The next morning was a quiet ordeal, Angie having already packed her bags in advance. She was finishing getting ready in the bathroom and you were still peacefully warm in bed. Again you insisted on driving her to the airport and again you were shot down. "I've already called the cab." She called out.

"Why can't I just take you there?" You sighed.

She came around the corner and stood there staring, "What if when you leave the airport, you're in a wreck and I'm not there?"

"Angie, I hate to break it to you; but that could happen any day."

She shook her head and moved to your side of the bed, "Don't remind me, I'm already having enough second thoughts on letting you be alone for three days."

You tilted your face up expectantly just as she leaned down to kiss your cheek. "I'm a grown adult, I don't need to be babysat."

She sighed, rested her forehead against yours, "Come to New York with me." Her voice soft and weighted. "I'll buy you new clothes, and take you out to the best restaurants."

"Not this time." You answered.

She brushed her lips across yours slowly, teasing with the idea of another kiss. "I wasn't asking." She said just as gentle as before.

There was a muffled knock from the front door, and you smiled at her. "Duty calls."

She sighed and kissed you once, before standing and picking up her bags. You were just as quick to sit up, "Did you want any help with your bags?"

She shook her head, "no, sweetheart, I've got it." And left the bedroom, looking more distraught than you expected. 

The front door opened and you could hear a muffled conversation start, as the door shut. You sat there staring at the bedroom doorway for longer than you would like to admit. Something about the way her demeanor changed in that last minute before leaving stuck with you for the rest of the day, and well into the night.

-------------------

Halfway through the night your thoughts had finally moved on from Angie's expression to more pressing matters; you were seated at the kitchen table with three different papers in front of you. A legal pad; with a long checklist all but two boxes were empty and unchecked–the list for the town hall Christmas party. A spiral notebook; full of notes and footnotes of information concerning events the firestation had overseen this year alone–three pages worth. Finally a single sheet of paper; with half baked gift ideas, a list of groceries to buy for the house, and a to-do list of chores you wanted to do before Angie returned.

You remembered you would need to call the band, and wrote down that one the legal pad. Which reminded you, you needed to get Carolyn a good band tee, wrote that note on the single sheet of paper. Which reminded you that you needed to get the exact date of that one concert Warren had offered a few coworkers to help supervise, you wrote it down. Then remembered that you needed to schedule the exact time of the party.

The cycle had persisted since dinner, and was continuing well into the night, roughly around eleven-thirty the phone rang and snapped you out of your work stupor. You rubbed a hand across half your face and suppressed a yawn as you picked up the phone. “Y/N.” There was a pause on the other line, followed by a slight intake of breath, you frowned. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Angie’s voice came through, staticky, and soft.

You relaxed back into the chair instantly melting, “Angie, how was your day?”

“Boring. I had back-to-back meetings,” she sighed, “then no one to enjoy lunch with.”

“You’ll be back in two days,” you offered. Leaning forward to look at the papers again with fresh eyes. Crossed two things off two separate lists.

“I know, I just,” there was movement on the other line, and you could picture Angie readjusting the phone. Knew she had done just that when her voice came out louder and clearer than before. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” You answered back easily.

“Promise?”

“My love,” you let the endearment hang in the air, let it travel all the telephone wires, so many miles and miles away till Angie heard it. Till she processed those two words. Then finally added the rest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

She hummed, and you knew that she was still letting my love continuously echo in her head, soothing her worries when you could do nothing else but tell her you loved and missed her. And that’d have to be enough for tonight. And tomorrow night. And the night after that.

Then the line went quiet, but not dead. Only occasional static between the two of you and the occasional shift on the other end letting you know she was still there. You wrote down a few more notes before pausing, “What catering do we typically use for parties?”

“Gladys has their contact information, I believe.”

You nodded writing that off. Then realized she couldn’t see you nodding, and added. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t be working this late, you know.” She murmured, you smiled slightly at her concern and ignored the burning exhaustion in your left eye. Alternating between keeping it closed and open intermittently in hope that it would fix the problem.

“I know.”

“Go to bed. I love you.”

“I will. I love you too.”

She paused a moment more, enjoying that final two seconds of silence before the line went dead and you were alone with your thoughts and countless tasks. The clock on the stove read twelve-sixteen. 

You went to bed.

-------------------

The two days passed quickly in a blur of work and sleep. Every so often you considered staying over at Collinswood, but the thought would always be pushed to the side when you remembered Angie would call. 

Again, the thought popped into your head as you left the fire station. Undoubtedly you could just show up at home again, and have your room and whatever meal Willie decided to cook tonight. But Angie would call, and you wanted everything to be put together when she came home tomorrow morning. 

So you drove the long way home to Angie's. The pink sky mixed with the dark blue of impending night as the road became slick with water, reds, pinks, deep blues, and blacks. All melting together in a rather charming impressionist painting. Too muddled together to discern where one object ended and another began.

Soon enough you were pulling into the driveway and unlocking the front door, setting your bag near the entryway risking a suspicious glance at Evil Santa, and turning on the kitchen light. It was quiet. Not necessarily lonely, because you knew if you called up your sister, she would invite you over or offer to come over and keep you company while not so subtly judging Angie’s interior design all the while.

In fact there were several different people you could call up and they would offer to come over, or invite you over, but there was something to be said for the silence here. You chopped the tomatoes, and the onions, and realized you really could use some music. Raided Angie’s records and found Redbone. 

Sauteed and added more spices and vaguely thought to be worried about if the party would go well tomorrow. But then the chorus of One More Time came on and you were adding in broth and doing the chorus like you were on stage. 

Dinner was eaten on the couch, watching White Christmas and taking mental notes of anything that seemed festive about it. If you were going to go all in for Christmas for Angie, you would damn well commit to it.

After dinner you cleaned up the kitchen and went to bed. Laid there in silence, hands folded across your stomach as you stared at the ceiling. You missed Angie. It felt stupid to admit, after you had seen her just three days ago, but still you wanted her next to you.

-------------------

Eventually you fell asleep, and unfortunately woke up before seven. It was still dark out when you started cleaning, and you couldn't find it in yourself to be tired or grumpy with that fact. You reheated some leftovers, and dusted the nutcrackers, but conveniently skipped over Creepy Santa.

For the next three hours you did every single task on your to-do list and chore list all except work on the document.

Ten finally rolled around and though it already felt like the day was halfway done, it was still early enough in the day that there wasn't much traffic. The sun was out, and it wasn't ridiculously cold nor was it too warm, just toeing the line of freezing, and Collinsport was sure to have snow by this evening, flowers sat in the passenger seat, and you sang along to every single song. Excitement bubbling up too quickly to quell or ignore.

Your thoughts seemingly on repeat, nothing beyond; Angie, Angie, Angie, Angie. Going through your head, and after the past week you deserved such a reprieve as driving half an hour to the airport to get your girlfriend.

There were undoubtedly other pressing things with the party tonight, but everything else paled in comparison to seeing Angie again. You put up with confusing lane changes, and asshole drivers cutting you off, and getting stuck in airport traffic. All with a smile. 

All for the moment when Angie threw her luggage in the trunk, opened the door and slid into the shotgun seat. She leaned over and kissed you, flowers quickly forgotten. Slowly. Deeply. A horn honked behind you, and you pulled away from Angie startled. 

She seemed annoyed, but undeterred, and settled for pressing quick kisses against your pulse, as you pulled away from the arrival lane, seemingly trying to make up for the past few days of isolation. Stopped after another moment, and rested her head on your shoulder.

She noticed the flowers and smiled, her hand intertwining with yours, “Your fingers are so cold.” She sighed, enveloping them in her warm grip.

“How was the trip?”

“Tiring.” She murmured, idly playing with your hand, “I don’t sleep well without you.”

You smiled softly, endeared. “We can probably take a small nap before the party, but I have to stop by town hall real quick.”

“Can I go in?”

You hesitated for a moment, finally settled on the truth embarrassedly, “I’d rather you see it when it’s completely ready.”

-------------------

The parking lot at town hall was empty save for catering, and a few cars here and there. Most likely the decorators and band if you had to guess; you parked and kissed Angie on the cheek, before slipping out of the car.

You walked up the steps, and opened the door without any fanfare. Inside town hall was chaotic in an organized way only you understood.

A party like the human body required proper circulation to be in any manner of speaking, alive. Instead of the usual chairs lined up orderly in the middle of the room, there were few placed here and there against the wall. 

The right wall was reserved for the buffet of food, both catering and two tables for everyone who would bring their own homemade things. And the rest of the room would be reserved for the masses.

Decorators were currently in every other conceivable nook and cranny of the building. They were setting up places for lights to give off soft lighting instead of the typical harsh fluorescent of a government building. Another pair were hanging strings of plain white Christmas lights across the ceiling, and you didn't envy the neck pain they would no doubt feel soon enough.

Everything was surely coming along, well within schedule. A quick round was made to talk with the catering, then with the head of decorating; both were well versed in how the party went, and you were happy to let them take charge.

Just as you were turning and heading towards the doors, you caught sight of Gladys coming from the right hall. Instantly you changed course and made your way towards Gladys.

Of everything so far observed nothing was nearly as important or imposing as Gladys' job for the night. She had offered for her and Jim to take over the children's room, which would be in a sanctioned off large room typically used for private meetings. After all there were only so many babysitters in Collinsport, and Gladys preferred watching the kids to what she called the 'drunk debacle' that was the main hall during the party. 

All that she asked was for an update the next morning on all and every tidbit of gossip, Angie had her covered on that account. As she deserved. Truly a saint for watching all of the children. But for Angie you knew she would do anything. 

As you neared you made out Gladys' outfit, and stared in confusion.

Her festive sweater had seen better years, the turtleneck had drooped a bit, the sleeves a bit too long, and the sweater itself was rather enormous. Brushing Gladys’ knees, and three inches longer on the right side than the left. The snowflakes on the sweater were actually the only thing about the sweater that looked…proportional. You would put money on it that she knitted it herself.

“Jim knitted it for me.” She said proudly amid your confusion, “Bless his heart he can’t knit for shit, but it’s the thought that counts.”

You smiled, and the head of catering approached. “Where would you like the tables?”

“Along the right wall.” Gladys answered before you had the chance to open your mouth. They nodded, and walked off. “I’ve got this,” Gladys assured. “Shouldn’t you be picking up Angie?”

“She’s in the car.” Smiled almost sheepish, “I wanted her to see it all together, tonight.”

She smiled in that knowing way, the way a parent might when embarrassing their kid about a crush. And you adored Gladys for that feeling. For all the parental advice that she doled out with equal measure. “Don’t look so embarrassed. Not yet at least.”

“Do you give Angie this much of a hard time about me?” 

“Of course.” She replied easily, “I think I give her a harder time actually.” She grinned at you, “But she never seems to mind. Not for you, at least.”

Traitorously your face warmed again. And your smile was building to a grin. “I trust you have it handled, but is there anything I could do?”

“Make sure she gets rest before the party. Force yourself to relax too.” She rested a hand on your shoulder, “Be here at six.”

“Six?”

“Six.” She agreed.

You nodded, and hugged her. She seemed momentarily surprised by the affection, or perhaps by the fact that you were so willingly affectionate, but welcomed it nonetheless. “Thank you for doing this.”

She squeezed you tightly, a death grip of a hug that was more comforting than claustrophobic. 

-------------------

You walked back to the car to see Angie slouching against the seat, head tilted and arms crossed, watching the cars pass, and looking thoroughly exhausted. She sat a little straighter when she saw you, and obviously was trying not to look as exhausted as she felt, but you noticed anyway. Slid into the car and smiled at her, “Home?”

“Everything’s alright?” She asked. “You don’t have to stay?”

“Gladys is handling the last minute things, everyone knows the drill.” You were already pulling out of the parking lot. “There’s no reason to stay and watch the process.”

“There’s nothing else? Your family? Work?”

“I’m all yours until Sunday night.”

-------------------

Returning home everything was exactly as you left it. Perfectly clean, trash out, laundry done, dishes clean. All of it was spotless. Angie walked in, sighed, dropped her bags on the floor unceremoniously and headed straight to bed. 

You picked up her bags and set them on the couch, already unzipping them when you heard a very indignant, “Sweetheart.”

Naturally you walked to the bedroom to see Angie starfished onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She glanced at you after a moment, but made no other move to acknowledge you, or make space on the bed. “If you’re not in bed with me in the next three seconds I’ll–”

You took a running leap at the bed, landing next to Angie. The bed bounced a few times and you grinned at her, “You were saying?”

“Smartass.” She murmured.

“Great ass.” You corrected, and made yourself comfortable. 

“Have you always been this insufferable?” She sighed.

“Always.” You agreed, sighed dramatically as you rolled once, towards the edge of the bed. “But I can tell when my company’s not appreciated so I’ll just…” She threw a leg over your hip before you had another chance to leave. Pulled you the rest of the way, sheer determination and possessiveness. 

“Stop that.” She hissed, already laying partly on top of you. Her lips inching closer and closer to your jawline.

“Stop what?” You asked breathlessly.

“Trying to leave me.” Her hand was already halfway up your shirt, resting along your ribs innocently. Legs tangled, and her head in the crook of your neck. “I just want to be home. With you.”

“We have until six.” You said gently, “But we have to start getting ready at five.” 

“We have six hours.” She said knowingly. The conversation tapered off into silence, and you laid there peacefully. Angie’s perfume was nice, something that reminded you of fancy clothing stores and expensive name brands, you occasionally glanced out the window to see snow flurries continuing their gentle onslaught. In slow degrees you felt Angie’s weight increase, until she was well and truly asleep on you. Slow and steady breaths against your neck, and her body heat was keeping the two of you warm. 

Eventually you closed your eyes, and fell asleep.

-------------------

You woke to Angie’s suitcase halfway emptied on the bed and a blanket over you. You sighed and stretched, glancing around the room to find you were alone. Miffed, you rolled over and curled into the blanket, footsteps approached and you waited till you were certain she was in the room before speaking, eyes still closed and body still flirting with the idea of sleep. “What if we called it a day and went back to bed?” You murmured.

“I’d say you put too much effort into throwing the party to stay home.” She answered and went about unpacking more of the suitcase, you sighed disappointedly, but knew she was right. And Gladys was expecting you two at six. 

“What are you going to wear?” You asked, quietly accepting defeat.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She answered, “But if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you watch.”

You opened your eyes to glance over at her, “I’m always good.”

She smirked, "Well if you want to watch, you need to get up and get ready."

You sighed and stretched leisurely, "I'm good, but not that good." Then tucked yourself further into the blanket.

She hummed, and disappeared back into the closet, and you knew it was an invitation. But you also knew that you two needed to be on time for Gladys and counted out the minutes it took for Angie to be ready. Knowing you could be ready in whatever time was left. 

Soon enough Angie came around the corner dressed in an emerald green sweater, cashmere and probably designer. The v-neck dipped just far enough that you forced your eyes upwards not a second later. She had a gold necklace, and earrings to match, with black slacks that were to no end distracting. 

And you desperately wished you had taken her up on her offer. 

That was the point you were sure. Especially when Angie smirked, and asked, "What do you think?" Like you hadn't been staring for the past half-minute. 

"...you look...good."

She stepped towards the bed, "Just good?"

"Gorgeous, beautiful, intimidatingly attractive." You shrugged at a loss for synonyms for beautiful.

She smiled, delighted by your silence. "I'll let you go ahead." 

-------------------

You were right on time as expected, at exactly five, fifty-nine the two of you were walking through the parking lot. Already the sun was down, and the party wouldn't start for another hour. 

Gladys met you at the doors and hugged Angie, "How was the trip?" 

"Exhausting, but I have so much to tell you."

The next hour was spent with Angie dishing out every bit of gossip she had overheard in the past three days, Gladys added her own comments and you stood there barely aware of any of the people they were talking about. But desperately trying to catch up in the conversation. By the time people started to filter in Angie and Gladys had moved onto more diplomatic topics.

-------------------

The band played Jingle Bell Rock right on time, and the entire town was here, in various states of cheer. Your family was somewhere around here, probably scattered throughout the building, but you remained near the buffet table, your focus remained solidly on a bowl of pretzels coated in white and dark chocolate, with festive sprinkles coated on the top. You grabbed a handful and made your way around the throngs of people, dodging swinging elbows, plates, and over-filled cups. At last you caught sight of Angie. 

She was as usual being a charming and perfect hostess despite the fact that she wasn’t actually hosting the party, people had flocked to her regardless, and currently she had a group hanging on her every word. You held back and waited, eating the pretzels and being careful to not let them melt. 

"How was your thanksgiving?" Someone asked behind you, you turned to see it was one of the bartenders you recognized, but couldn't recall his name for the life of you. 

You smiled politely, "Oh you know, food and post-turkey comas and the like."

He nodded, "I do." His gaze flickered over to Angie. "It looks like you're needed."

Angie was watching you patiently and when you met her gaze, she gestured to the spot next to her. You excused yourself and made your way to Angie. Spotted a plate full of Gladys' gingersnap cookies, and groaned; made a detour to them, before taking your spot next to Angie. "What are in these things? They're so addicting."

"Drugs." 

You turned to Angie, wide-eyed. "Really?" 

"No, she sets the bottom in sugar before they're fully cooled." She said unfazed, wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer. "So what did Mr. Dunn want with you?"

"Oh my god, that’s what his name is." You said suddenly, she sipped at the flute of punch, and you continued. "He's just Warren's friend, we know each other."

She hummed, and dropped the topic as Barnabas walked up. He nodded to you, "Y/N," turned his focus to Angie, "Wretch."

Angie smiled, "Barnacle, how nice of you to join the festivities."

He hummed, "It's a party so brilliant only a Collins could have hosted it."

"Thank you, I think?" 

He nodded, his fingers tapped along the top of his walking stick, "I have a request of you Angelique."

"And yet you began the conversation off with, wretch? You’re more stupid than I give you credit for."

He sighed, "I'd like to request you turn me human," he nodded to you, "you've had your happy ending, I want mine." 

"Not here, and not now." She said, then turned to greet Mr. Vandermeer and his newest wife seamlessly. 

You watched Barnabas turn to Willie and nod. "Barnabas," but he had disappeared back into the crowd and others quickly replaced him, happy to pull you into conversation.

-------------------

Typically with the sheer amount of people in the room, the band, and any number of countless minor noises that added to the symphony of chaos that was this party–a person would need a few beginning preludes to a speech, a few gestures, someone perhaps to yell for everyone to settle down for a moment.

But Angie needed none of those things.

She ascended the few steps up to the long curved oak desk that the council members usually sat at during meetings. Unhurried, she walked to the middle of the table, looking over the sea of guests, surveying her kingdom. She raised her champagne glass and tapped it twice with a fork.

A hush fell over the party, the band faded out. Angie smirked, so pleased by the ease she held over the crowd. There were times when it was difficult to differentiate what was part of her magic and what was simply Angie, and this was one of those moments. “First, I’d like to thank everyone for coming, such a pleasant party couldn’t be had without present company.” She flashed the crowd a smile that was every part politician and socialite. 

And a year ago, your sister would’ve called it fake, and you might’ve agreed with her. But now you smiled at Angie like she could see you out of this sea of faces. Nearly everyone else around you smiled too, smirked, or chuckled to themselves, and you were amazed by how spellbound she had everyone. “As you all know–” She began to launch into a speech that would no doubt deserve a standing ovation, but movement near the punchbowl caught your eye. 

Barnabas and Willie were quietly whispering to themselves near the punchbowl, slightly argumentative. But quiet enough that no one took notice. Naturally you began to navigate around people, all seemingly frozen in place watching Angie adoringly. Waiters deftly maneuvered around as they passed out flutes of punch for the toast no doubt coming, and you followed behind one who was clearing a path towards them. 

Just as you neared to diffuse the situation, Willie picked up the punchbowl only one-fourth filled and took off with it, Barnabas following behind. You sighed, and decided to not even bother with any of that. Not tonight. 

Turned back to Angie, and back to the speech in time for her to glance through the sea of faces and land on you. Her smile loosened in slow degrees, till she was smiling at you genuinely, still with that air of authority to keep the vulnerability at bay. But you saw through it easily.

“I’d like to thank Y/N, my better half, for organizing the party tonight.” Her voice still projected that utter confidence, but you could hear the soft edge of love in it. Would be a fool, not to. You saw several people in your vicinity glance at you, but you only felt Angie gaze. “I’ve been out of town, as many know, and I couldn’t have imagined a better person for the job. So to all of Collinsport I’d like to raise my glass and propose a toast.” She raised her flute, and gazed out at the rest of the town, “Wishing you more happiness than all my words can tell, not just for the holidays, but all the year as well.” 

Glanced over at you at the last second, and raised her glass a degree higher, just for you, then drank. Everyone followed suit, yourself included. The coffee was warm, and pleasant, but Angie’s attention was still better.

-------------------

She was by your side afterwards, people watching, as others milled about or danced. You couldn’t resist teasing her, “So better half, huh?”

“Girlfriend seems too informal for what you are to me.” She answered easily, as if it was the simple truth of the matter; and it shut you up. But she simply pulled you closer, as people came up to wish you two a happy holiday, or catch up, everyone wanted a moment with Angie and she didn’t seem to care so long as you were next to her. 

After a moment of respite, you leaned closer to her, "I'm going to start the car," pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

"Don't be long."

"Of course not."

Outside was colder than expected, snow flurries drifting down, you shivered and wished you had been smart enough to grab your coat. But made quick work of turning the car on, and the heater on full blast to let everything defrost a bit. Walked quickly back inside to see Angie had another several people competing for a moment of her time.

You sighed, but dutifully made your way over anyway. Angie smiled the moment she caught sight of you, turned back to the couple she had been talking to, and extracted herself from the conversation gracefully. She neared and you offered her coat to her, "It's snowing." 

The two of you dodged a few more people hoping to catch her in conversation, but just as quickly they took the hint and mentioned catching up another time. 

Finally you reached the doors, you braced yourself for the cold despite your jacket zipped, offered your arm to Angie and opened the double doors. Snow fell slowly, and the two of you descended the stairs leisurely. Lampposts buzzed with soft yellow light. Cars passed by slowly,  few and far in between. The doors shut behind the two of you and the silence that descended was a comfortable reprieve from the party. Faint chatter and music still continued muffled inside town hall. 

The hum of the engine harmonized with the thrum of the heater, as the two of you slid into the car. Angie sighed audibly, you smiled exhausted, "Have fun?"

She moved to rest her head against your shoulder and you leaned into it, welcoming the action wholeheartedly. "I'm ready to go home."

"Of course." You began the drive home and Angie didn't move from her spot next to you, you rested your hand on her thigh comfortingly. Hummed to the radio playing softly, passed Angel Bay's warehouse before you broke the silence. "I liked your speech, it was nice."

She gave a small hum, before asking, "Now that it's all over how do you feel?"

"Exhausted and still a bit of lingering stress from it."

"I told you, we should've left them to deal with it by themselves."

You smiled to yourself, "How are you feeling by the way?"

"Fine." She mumbled. "Why do you ask?"

The buildings slowly got more sporadic as you drove, closer and closer to home. She hadn’t moved her head from your shoulder, and had yet to make any sarcastic comments aimed at anyone, Barnabas specifically. "That punch was spiked wasn't it?" 

"Heavily." She agreed. "By at least five people." Then said quieter, "Myself included."

"Angie—"

"Gladys asked me to, she didn't think you'd remember to, and anyways the kids aren't allowed to have any of the punch, per tradition of it being spiked. A little vodka and it's fine, barely noticeable."

"Except..."

"Except this time maybe no one got the memo, it was already spiked." She sighed, resting her head on your shoulder again.

Your thumb ran across her thigh again, you offered, "I can run a bath for you when we get home, get you some water and hopefully you won't have a hangover when you wake up."

-------------------

You ran the bath, steam billowing up and you checked the temperature, adjusted as needed, plugged the drain and stood. Felt the pinprick of somebody staring, and turned to find Angie leaning against the doorframe, watching you. You gestured to the bath, "All yours."

Side-stepped waiting for her to let you pass, but she stepped forward and pressed against you. "Are you not going to join me?"

Heat rose in your face, but you smiled, "Last I checked you weren't feeling up to that."

She smiled, and you could see the slight blush steadily coloring her face, "I promise to be modest if you will."

Angie had never been modest a day in her life, but with the way the blush had settled in her face, and she was steadily silent, you knew it was a genuine offer to soak in the water with her. Why she couldn't have asked you that outright, you were left to wonder. "I'll have to pass." There were several things you wanted to do for Angie before she was out of the bath, anyway. 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, and moved towards the bath. You took your leave, made a glass of water and grabbed the ibuprofen, threw a towel in the dryer and returned to the bathroom. 

Angie had sunk in the water to her chin, eyes closed and looking at peace. Stepping over her discarded clothes, "here," passed her the water and painkillers, she took both gratefully. “Call me if you need anything.” You said, and took the glass back to the kitchen. 

The house was quiet and comfortable. A welcome reprieve from the party, and Angie's presence had you relaxed. You cleaned the dishes from lunch, set them out to dry, and started a load of laundry for her. The dryer went off soon enough, and you were quietly slipping back into the bathroom, setting the towel back on the towel rack. Smiled to yourself and grabbed her discarded clothes on your way out. 

By the time she left the bath you had the dishes done, her laundry already folded and put away, her suitcase set aside, a nightshirt for her on the bathroom counter, and a freshly warm towel waiting for her. It was a job well done, that you surveyed from the bed, propped up by pillows, the bedside lamp on and you finally forced your focus to your notes for the paper. The bathroom drain gurgled to life, and water sloshed. Marked a note in the corner that you would need the number of people used for each event too.

"You warmed the towel." Angie's voice came distantly, and you smiled to yourself, not for the first time that night.

"I did."

She rounded the corner and paused, after a moment or two you glanced up to see her standing there in her nightshirt, hair still damp and staring directly at you. "So, were you ever interested in actually throwing the party?"

"I mean, it's nice to know I can throw that party if the occasion arises," you shrugged.

"But why were you so dead set on organizing it?" 

Your face flushed and you glanced back at the paper in your lap. "You enjoy the party, socializing and all the hosting duties. I just figured..." Shrugged again, your mouth running dry. "I figured you'd like it." Glanced at her slightly nervous, "did you?"

She stood there for a moment silent with surprise, or maybe the stillness of her reaction was further exhaustion. She rested her hand against the top of the dresser as if to support herself and she looked away distantly. Sighed, "you're really testing my resolve right now."

"Angie?"

"Yes, I loved the party." She said, looking at you finally. "And the way you put away my things and the way you warmed the towel for me; and even if you hadn't done anything I would still love you." She walked over to your side of the bed, "even if you did nothing but exist, I would still love you."

Pulled the comforter off you, and tossed your notebook to the other edge of the bed. Slid on top of you, a welcome pressure and warmth. "You'd be a perfect housewife, you know."

"Don't start," you laughed, but she didn't back down. Took your chin and tilted your face up to her.

"Come on, sweetheart." She murmured, eyes half-lidded. "Let me take you to New York next time," her thumb brushed along your bottom lip, "let me show you what it's like to be well and truly mine." 

You grinned, "I think you want me to be entirely dependent on you sometimes." 

She hummed, pressed forward and kissed you, her hand sliding down to hold your throat in a loose grip. "All the time," she agreed, in the space between your mouths, so close you could feel her lips brush against yours with every word. She pressed forward again and kissed you slowly, till you barely could place where you were, and then she pulled away.

Your face still buzzed with warmth and the feeling of Angie's mouth on yours. She settled beside you, and you fixed the pillows so you could lay down, asked after a moment, "still feeling buzzed?" Pressed a fleeting kiss against her cheek before you reached over to turn off the lamp. 

"Not as much," she replied in the darkness, "just tired." Threw her leg across your hip, her cheek pressed against your shoulder and her arm slid across your waist. For a few minutes it was quiet, before she broke the silence again. "I think I want to undo Barnabas' curse."

"Do you think it's possible to turn him back after so long?"

She sighed, "I don't know, but I might as well try."

You smiled, "look at you getting all soft."

"I am not soft." Her tone was defensive, and you knew she was aiming a soft glare in your direction.

It earned a soft chuckle from you, "I guess you don't need to hold me every night." Her arm wound tighter around you.

"Fuck you." 

You laughed harder, and she leaned forward to nip at your pulse in retaliation, which didn't deter you. But you did settle, "I'm not the one spouting obvious lies." She didn't take the bait, and after a moment you added soft. "But I think that's arguably the best Christmas gift he could get." 

She hummed out an acknowledgement, something like a content sight. Sleep was already taking hold of her, and you weren't too far behind.