Abe was laughing so hard he couldn’t speak. He took a few slugs of slivovitz in order to pull himself together. “This is….” He sputtered a few times and tried again. “A Jewish boy watching an angel and a demon decorate his Christmas tree. Oy gevalt.” He dissolved into guffaws again. Even Thomas was chuckling.
The truth was, Abe was too short to reach the tree’s upper branches, and although Thomas was getting better at hobbling around, he still needed crutches. That left Charles and Tenrael to arrange the strings of lights, hang the glass ornaments, and apply the final strands of tinsel. Tenrael was enjoying himself and doing a very good job; he clearly had a good eye for composition and design.
When the decorating was complete, Charles took his usual chair and Tenrael knelt beside him, leaning against his legs. Charles rested his hand on Tenrael’s hair and addressed their hosts. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“You celebrated Hanukkah with us. We couldn’t very well snub you on Christmas, could we? Besides, we need the company. We’re good and sick of each other by now.” The easy way Abe leaned against Thomas belied the statement, as did Thomas’s arm around his shoulders. “And you brought good gifts.” Abe waved his bottle.
Charles and Tenrael had brought liquor for Abe and some books for Thomas. The last time Charles had given anyone a Christmas present was when he was seventeen and had cleaned their small apartment, scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom until they gleamed and tidying everything else. When his mother came home from work, she stood at the door for a long minute, her hand over her mouth, and then gave him a hard hug. He still remembered how the scent of her hand lotion had filled his head.
Now, with the tree lights sparkling and the smell of fir in the air, the living room had a cozy, festive feel. Charles was comfortably stuffed with apple pie and hot spiced cider, and Tenrael was warm against him.
“I like holidays,” Tenrael announced. “I think we should celebrate more of them.”
“We can celebrate them all, if you like.”
The four of them sat silently for a while, gazing at the tree. Content.
Eventually Abe got up to fetch a fresh bottle. When he sat down again, he said, “Isn’t there supposed to be singing? Caroling?”
“I’d just as soon skip that, if you don’t mind,” Charles replied.
Tenrael looked up at him. “Do you object to music, Master?”
“No. Just Christmas tunes. I had enough of those from Fish.”
“What about this?” Tenrael stood, spread his wings, and launched into something in ancient Greek. He didn’t sing quite as well as a merman, perhaps, but he did have a lovely baritone. And the fact that he wasn’t luring anyone to their death was a definite plus. Charles hadn’t known Ten could sing, and he looked forward to more discoveries about his partner. As Ten went through a repertoire in a variety of dead languages, it was pleasing to know that perhaps they were the first group to hear those songs in a thousand years or more. It was Tenrael’s gift to them all, and very precious. He sang a dozen songs and then knelt on the floor looking very pleased with himself. Maybe he’d never had an audience before. Charles would make sure he had one in the future.
“Will you stay in San Francisco after I’m back on my feet?” Thomas asked. “There’s plenty of private dick work here. And some extra Bureau work now and then.”
“We’ll go back to LA,” Charles replied without hesitation. San Francisco was a nice enough city, but he preferred sunshine to fog. And he definitely missed his bungalow in Santa Monica and its nearby beach. Besides, it was easier for Ten to fly unnoticed at home.
“You can come to visit,” Abe announced.
“Holidays together?” Two words that Charles had never expected to say, as a phrase or separately. Yet here he was, and saying those words felt good. The promise of future happiness. He’d once thought that concept impossible, yet here he was with so much joy in front of him that he hardly knew where to begin. It was like trying to eat one of Tenrael’s room service breakfasts.
Abe nodded. “Perfect.”
They sat together for hours that night, trading stories, speculating about various pieces of Bureau gossip, talking about places they might like to visit after the war. At some point Tenrael climbed onto Charles’s lap. Charles should have felt ridiculous over that, but he didn’t. As a matter of fact, Ten’s feathers kept tickling him and making him laugh.
It was an excellent Christmas.
There was serious work ahead of them; Charles knew that. He and Ten would remain in the city for another two weeks or so, and the gods only knew what monsters would show up. People had died due to the merfolk—including Detective Collins and Bertha’s nephew—and Charles intended to keep everyone safe during the remainder of his watch. As safe as possible, anyhow.
After he and Ten returned to LA, Charles would need to have a talk with Townsend about the enigmatic statement he’d made right before he left. The chief never did anything idly; he had a reason for dropping that hint about abandonment. Charles was going to get to the bottom of it.
But there would also be plenty of time to stroll on the sand, to sit with a book in his lap and Ten at his feet, to try new sweet foods… and to make Tenrael shout and bleed and beg. All the time in the world.
Charles gave Tenrael a squeeze and then smiled at their hosts. He was drunk on happiness and hoped he’d never sober up. “Merry Christmas,” he said to everyone in the room. Because it was. And then he laughed.
“By any chance, is there more pie?”