awickedtime | May all your Christmases be bright...

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May all your Christmases be bright...

Raised in the Church of Night, Nick's never celebrated Christmas before, but it's important to Charlie and Rosie, so it's important to Sabrina, so it's important to Nick. He'd basically given Rosie and Charlie free rein to decorate the apartment, which is draped in lights and glitter, the tree shimmering merrily in the corner. It's not dissimilar to some of the festivals that he had celebrated in his life. The iconography is different, though.

They've carved out time to spend together, in the midsts of all the other meals, all the other obligations with the found families that they've made themselves. Nick had agonised over gifts for the girls, less so for Charlie, and they're neatly wrapped in paper and metallic ribbon. He's proud of how pretty they look, if he's honest.

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Sabrina has more experience with the holiday than Nick, but she's found that sometimes the strange cultural clashes she'd grown up with lead to less clarity than just learning about something. She's very thankful that the solstice passes easily, and that when it does, they're left with a clear shot at a good, happy Christmas.

Her own worries about gifts had been very real, if short-lived. The memory of Harvey returning the colored pencils to her still holds a sting, though it'd taken only a moment or two in the presence of the people that really love her to decide what she wants to do.

Dressed in red velvet, she lets herself curl up on the couch to watch them, this little tangle of people she adores, as they move about and settle into place themselves. Salem dozes under the tree, and it's one of those rare moments where everything's going right, and she can just let go.

Just be happy.

Nick comes to sit beside her, a small wrapped box in his hands. He drops a kiss onto her temple and then just sits, quietly for a moment. "This is nice, isn't it?" he says, leaning his shoulder against hers. "Different from home. But nicer, somehow."

She leans into the little kiss, her eyes closing as if it's to be savored-- if she's learned anything this year, it's how important focusing on each moment is, that this is what they hold onto when terrible things inevitably happen.

"Warmer," she agrees. "Brighter. So much more love, just... existing. I wish I had gotten to be with you last-- oh, let's call it winter holidays."

"If only we'd figured everything out sooner," he says, turning the box over in his hands. "It'll be Lupercalia soon - think we can count that as an anniversary?"

"I wouldn't trade," she says, after a moment. "But it's a nice thought."

And then he mentions Lupercalia, and her eyes widen a bit, her thoughts heading into territory that really couldn't be qualified as nice. "We can count it," she says firmly, knowing there's no way to hide that she's thinking ahead. "And celebrate it however we please."

"Now that's a lovely thought," says Nick, leaning in closer to her for a moment. "Especially if we can get Charlie and Rosie involved. Might be a little bit cold here for soaking up moonlight, though?"

Greenvale had never really felt warm, but it never really felt as cold as Darrow seems to get, either; a peculiar microclimate all its own.

"Like we couldn't arrange for a little spot in the woods to be just warm enough," Sabrina answers, her eyes sparkling. "Totally possible, if we wanted. That one's more about-- enjoying life, than celebrating any dark so and so's."

And she can't deny how much she wants to finish what they'd started.

"We could totally do that," says Nick, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "A whole new ritual. Just for us this time. No room for the Dark Lord and Lilith."

Sabrina leans in and presses a kiss to the turn of his mouth. "We definitely have some unfinished business around this holiday," she murmurs, and then turns to tuck into his side instead, a sure move the keep herself from getting handsy.

"I think we did well with this holiday, though," she says, smiling at the decorated apartment, at Charlie and Rosie where they're bowed over something.

"Yeah, we did." He sits quietly for a moment, just watching Charlie and Rosie, love blooming in him, pressed against his ribs like something solid. Warmth floods through him. "A whole new holiday for the four of us. We can celebrate it how we want."

"We're going to have ridiculous costumes that look like the cover of a gothic romance novel, right?" She's only half kidding. "If I can't run around in billowing cloaks and tightly laced corsets, it's not a real holiday."

"Do I get to see both of you in billowing cloaks and corsets?" asks Nick, idly playing with a strand of her white blonde hair. "Because that? Is something that I could definitely get behind."

"Oh, very much," Sabrina assures him. "We'll have to lace each other up again, I'm sure." They're supposed to mostly behave on Christmas, she believes, so she leaves it at that. Mostly.

"Could see both of us do a lot of things."

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Charlie has been worrying about the present that he bought Sabrina for weeks - worried that it's not too enough, that it's too much. Eventually, though, he just takes a breath and decides to...jump. What's the worst thing that can happen?

"Merry Christmas, Brina," he says, coming to sit beside her on the couch. "Are you having a nice time? I know this isn't really your thing..."

"Merry Christmas, Charlie," and because she can, she reaches out to tug him forward by the shirt for a kiss.

"I think it could become my thing, religions aside," she finally answers, when she releases him. "Everything's lovely, and I have all of you. All of the people I love are happy and celebrating. I'm happy."

He huffs a laugh out through his nose as he leans in for the kiss, his fingers coming up to brush her cheek.

"I guess it isn't really about religion for a lot of people," he says. "Not anymore. Here, for the four of us, it can be whatever we want it to, right?"

"Turns out that's true for most things," she answers, "about making things how we want them to be. Which is good, because I don't think I'm very good at the part where I accept things I don't like."

She reaches out to take his hand.

"You know, this time last year you were still having to sneak into my room."

"You're really not," says Charlie, threading his fingers through hers. "Which is totally one of the things that I love best about you." He lifts her hand, kissing the sides of her fingers. "You're right. God. Poor Salem."

She can't help looking pleased with herself, on both accounts.

"He does put up with a lot," she agrees. "And I don't know, there's a nostalgic quality to it now. More than a year, though, now. And here we are." The words are soft, spoken like a private and well-loved idea.

"Here we are," echoes Charlie, curling his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for another kiss. "Everything's so different from this time last year, but..." He looks at Rosie and Nick standing together near the Christmas tree. "It's perfect, isn't it?"

"It really is," she agrees, curling up against him, trying to recall a time she's felt happier and more secure. "And then before too long we have another kind of anniversary indeed," she adds, with a quiet giggle and a waggle of her eyebrows. "Do we break into a room again?"

"Oh, man," says Charlie, a faint flush spreading across his cheekbones at the thought of it. "I don't...Kagura." He shrugs. "I guess I won't know I feel until we're up there, but...That'd be a pretty good way to distract me."

Sabrina lives to make him blush like that, whenever she can, and it's enough that she nearly turns and crawls into his lap, especially when she realizes just why he might be nervous about the party.

So then she does scoot until she's sideways on his lap, nose pressed against his cheek, whispering against the shell of his ear. "Just think of it as reclaiming the place. We can crush up some cookies, maybe, and I'll wear my finest black lace."

She gets into his lap and Charlie wraps his arms around her, shifting her weight in his lap until they're both comfortable. He smiles as she whispers.

"It's not the cookies I'm nervous about," he says, a little unconscious chill going through him as he remembers the summer. "But you in black lace? Definitely helpful."

"No, they just set the ambiance," she says, nearly boneless against him. "We don't have to, if you don't want. There's a lot of places we could go. I just want to spend the night with you."

She smiles. "...in black lace."