1stmacleod | Christmas morning

Christmas morning

Connor sleeps sprawled, one foot hanging out from under the covers, recovering from a late-night indulgence of spiked eggnog. It's tradition.
The bedroom door creaks open, a quiet sound of protest that would normally wake him, but it goes unregarded. A figure lingers in the doorway cautiously, assessing him, and then creeps slowly into the room to stop a few feet away. There's another pause, another quiet moment of thought, and then the gentle tugging on Connor's arm begins.
"Dad? Dad?"
He groans, and tries to shake off the touch without opening his eyes.
"Dad? It's Christmas dad! Pleeeease?"
One grey eye opens, and blearily regards the boy. Dark-haired and dusky tan from the sun, John stands by the bed with his best pleading look. He grasps his father's arm again gently, but doesn't pull. The clock reads barely past six A.M.
"I could make you coffee!"
Connor pictures John on a stool at the kitchen counter, spilling coffee beans on the floor and trying to work the grinder. He groans again. "No. Just... half an hour more?"
John says nothing, sinking down to sit beside the bed. He watches his father with a sorrowful gaze, waiting. Connor can feel it through closed eyelids.
"...Has it been half an hour yet dad?"
Connor collects himself with a sound halfway between a groan and a chuckle, rubbing his eyes. Who can be annoyed at a child for being impatient on Christmas morning? He shakes his head a little, bemused, and looks to the side of the bed again.

John isn't there.

This isn't the house in Marrakesh, it's Kairos' home in the mountains in France, and there are no children here to badger him awake, or lead him grumbling in his bathrobe out to the tree, or tear the paper impatiently off boxes of toys.

The clock still reads barely past six A.M. and it's Christmas morning, but the house is quiet, and Connor is alone in his room. He stares blankly at the place beside his bed where John would be, until it's almost half an hour, a real half hour that even the ghost of John won't let him sleep in.

He gets up, after that, because there's no way he can sleep. Regina doesn't mind an early morning walk, and then he makes tea, instead of coffee, because he can do it without letting the kettle whistle or any other noises that might wake Kairos. Then he sits in the living room, looking at Christmas, and seeing other trees and other mornings. When he hears Kairos stirring he's quick to make coffee, and seeing her makes him smile. He's got a girlfriend who loves him, and he's gradually relaxing into a more idyllic life than he ever thought he could have again. Connor is deeply grateful, but he has moments of wistfulness all through the morning and the rest of the day.
Some part of him worries about just how damn much scotch people have given him for Christmas, and part of him worries even more that he'll be drinking a lot of it, tonight.

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"Good morning," she says softly, a little sleep rumpled. "Hard night?" She doesn't have any sort of telepathy, but she figures holidays are kinda hard.

Connor smiles at her gently, shrugs, and turns back to the coffee maker. He's been alternately moody the past week or so, and that's probably a yes. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." She stares into the coffee carafe. "What kind of coffee is that?"

"...Peppermint something?" He glances at the bag, which says it's some kind of gourmet holiday blend. "Heh. You sound like you're not awake yet." Connor comes closer and hugs her against his chest, just feeling her and breathing in her scent for a moment. It's good to be reminded of what he has to be grateful for. And to be reminded when and where he is, although he doesn't get mixed up about that much anymore.

"Not really. Need caffeine." And that coffee sounds like it would do wonders, actually. She wraps her arms around his waist. "Mmm. This is nice too, though."

He just keeps on holding her for a few minutes, until the coffee maker burbles because it's finishing, and disturbs him from his thoughts. "I dreamed... I thought..." Connor sighs and rubs his face. He hasn't shaved yet, and he looks pretty rumpled too, but that's normal. "John woke me up. Christmas morning... he never could let me sleep in..."

"Aww, honey." She hugs him again. "Have you considered going to a support group for people that have lost children?"

One eyebrow rises. "And when they ask me about my daughter, and I tell them she was in her forties and got... tell them how she died?" He hugs back, then goes to fetch the milk and some cups.

"What, you don't think people lose children here? Or perhaps some sort of Nexus-funded therapy?"

"...There's... people in the Nexus for that?" Because it genuinely hadn't occurred to him. Connor's still a newbie. He pours two cups of coffee and fixes hers first, then adds milk to his own. "I don't know Kai... I'm not good at talking to people. It goes against every instinct I've got."

((Hey... there's been some changes around here!))

She shrugs and takes a sip of coffee. "I don't know. It seems they've got everything there, it seems to me they might have support groups too. And sometimes, listening helps soothe your soul too, ya know? No one's gonna force you to do anything."

((Lulz! Yeah, I wasn't completely happy with the tartan background. Found another version of MacLeod tartan and gave it an aged look. It came out... ripply, but I guess that makes it look more like fabric?))

"...Support groups." His tone is flat. He's not hot on the idea. Not lukewarm, even.
"Listening, I can do. I'm good at listening." He sighs, and puts the milk away, and slides an arm around her. "I'll be okay. I've always muddled through, before." Now that they've got their coffee, he's guiding her gently towards the living room, where Christmas is waiting for them under the lights of the tree.

((Like a quilt or something. I do approve. XD))

"If you're sure." And oh, the tree. Kairos is ... exuberant about Christmas usually, and the tree just makes all the little bits of decoration through the rest of the house seem almost quaint in comparison. They'd left it on all night last night, just like tradition in her little family.

She'd already given him one present last night. A pair of exquisitely plus pajamas and robe - not that she minds him naked, but every man should have some. Plus. It's a tradition she was unwilling to give up.

"So."

((That's 'kilt', not quilt. XD ))

A few days before Christmas, Connor came home with a newly made grapevine wreath and some pine boughs, too, so he's made a definite contribution to decorating the house. Not to mention all his pre-Christmas baking has left the house smelling like cookies for a while. If he doesn't pull himself together enough to make a real breakfast, there's still cookies, and he's put oranges in her stocking because that's an old tradition. Plus Connor has a weakness for oranges.

He's wearing the pajamas, top unbuttoned, and the robe is laying on the couch where he was sitting until he heard her get up. Connor doesn't own slippers, but he seems to prefer going barefoot. That and occasional shirtlessness is all just part of the rumpled, careless package that is Connor. He's clean, but he'll wear his clothes until they're more holes than cloth if she lets him. "...So." He gestures at the tree and presents with his mug. "I'm following your lead."

((No no, I meant quilt. I know how to spell kilt silly, I stare at men in them hard enough it just sorta is learned by osmosis.))

"We used to take turns back home. First me, because I was the youngest, then Kalyca, then mom, then dad." She plops herself down on the couch. "Since you're the resident man and I'm totally being lazy, it's your job to pass out the presents."

There's three presents for Connor, one ranging from giftcard sized to one that is huge and rectangular.

((I know, but the pun/similarity was too hard to resist. She should get Connor a kilt...))

"You're still the youngest. Well..." He pauses and glances at the dog, who has had her morning walk and breakfast already. "There was... a lady in the Nexus, giving out stuff- Not LOLed, I'm pretty sure. Mine wasn't." He brings her a crochet lace stocking with chocolates, peppermints, and oranges in it, and dumps that in her lap, and then brings her a few boxes wrapped all in the same paper. They're heavy, and he piles them on the couch beside her, then uncertainly picks up the gift-card sized gift with his name on it. He's got a huge heavy box for her too, but he's pretty sure it's not the same thing.

"She can't open her own presents though," Kairos grins, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"Oooh! Mysterious stranger presents? This stocking is gorgeous," she says, looking at it. And then the stuff inside. "Oh, wow. Yum!"

"Anything I should open first?"

"...The oranges are from me. We used to get oranges, once in a while, all the way from Spain..." Connor has to pause just a minute for nostalgia, then nods at the boxes he's put on the couch. It looks like they're menat to go together, and inside them she'll find a mini anvil, hammer, and hacksaw, and a plier set. He's been poking around in her studio, but he wasn't sure what she might or might not need. He also knows it's handy to have more than one of some tools.

She smiles once she's ripped into the paper. "Oh, thank you! I've been meaning to get some new stuff, but.." She shrugs. "Never got around to it. This is great, thank you."

He smiles a little, too, relieved. Gift giving is so stressful! Those are also the most practical and least meaningful of his gifts, so if she likes those then he's probably free and clear. "I know tools wear out..." Connor shrugs. he's still holding his first gift, not sure if he's supposed to open it yet or not.

"D'you wanna go ahead and open that?" she asks, pointing to the penguin-covered holiday paper.

He looks down and takes another gulp of coffee before he sets the mug on the floor, and then unwraps the little package carefully. "There is a package for 'Gina, but I put it on the mantel so she wouldn't rip it up early..." Because he's a sucker for dogs, and when he was getting biscuits for Clark's dog he had to get some for Kai's, too.

Inside that box are a few well made hand knitted sweaters. "Less from me than from a few of the Way ladies. You are handsome." she says by way of explanation. "I believe they'll fit you well."

These sweaters don't even have holes in the elbows! He'll wear them anyway. He blushes a little over her explanation, though. "I've... only helped out around there a little... oh god. Really?" He holds one up, but it doesn't hide enough to keep her from seeing his ears are a little pink. "Are you sure they didn't just feel sorry for me? I know I need to get new clothes. Duncan ragged me about it, too."

She shrugs. "Well, to be perfectly honest I tend to wax poetic around you. They wouldn't make fun of you, hon. They know it's hard out there." She will, however, encourage him to make a donation to the way.

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