Unexpected

A White Christmas

Even though our Christmases tended to only be the three of us, the whole affair was never truly a quiet one. Cooking big holiday meals was always loud with Grumps mumbling about carving and singing his 'Chicky-bone' song as he de-boned turkeys and with Grams asking if I could read her scribbled notes from last time she made the dishes. Music played, the Christmas jingles that were starting to get old considering that they've been running all November and straight through until now. Opening presents was always noisy with ripping paper and laughter as we lounged in the living room, my grandparent's Christmas tree glittering gaily with its fake icicles and silver 'JOY' ornaments. This Christmas was no different.

The house had been almost silent as I swung my grandparents' front door open and stepped into the house to hug both of them as they took in my tired, drooping eyes and the bruises and cuts that foundation makeup couldn't quite hide. Then of course it got noisy. Questions flew through the air like paper airplanes as I took a seat at the kitchen table where a cheery apple pie already sat having cooled on a rack there overnight. What had held me up? What kind of work could possibly have been so important that I had to delay my arrival? What had happened to my lip? What of my bruise? Was I okay? Had I slept at all last night?

I didn't tell them about the Mandarin. How could I? Even if I wanted to, even if I wasn't keeping the realities of my job secret, I doubted I could tell them because it was all probably confidential anyways. If they turned on the TV today to their favorite news channels they might see footage of a decimated, smoking oil rig. They might hear about an oil fire and the number of people that were injured or had died in it, but they wouldn't hear about the Mandarin, or about Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and James Rhodes, or the President of the United States of America. They certainly wouldn't know about a certain blonde agent known, or unknown, as the Catalyst. Instead I just gave them weak, vague answers, using a worn out and slightly annoyed tone like what had held me up had been minor and not worth my time.

I could tell that they didn't quite buy it. The worry and suspicion in their eyes made that sickly guilty feeling bubble back up my throat, but I held it back with a smile as they tried to brush it all away too, seeming to realize that I couldn't or wouldn't tell them, turning their focus instead on Christmas plans and catching up. That was one thing my grandmother was good at, smoothing things over and lightening the mood with small talk. She regaled me with a story about Christmas carolers with no sense of pitch visiting them last night as she set about cooking, insisting I sit and rest. Grams set about feeding me well after I relented and told her that, yeah, I hadn't slept or had dinner the night before. I blamed it on the fact that I had been flying after a late night at work. They knew I struggled to sleep on planes, so they didn't question my claims. Christmas breakfast was hearty with eggs, bacon, homemade jam, cinnamon rolls oozing with sticky white icing, and hot chocolate with whipped cream and crush candy canes.

Retiring to the living room, mugs of hot drinks clutched in our hands as I looked at the frosty world outside as 'Silent Night' played off in the kitchen still. An actual white Christmas lay outside. How different from the almost tropical weather I had been in only a handful of hours ago. I stifled a giggle as I watched a car pull up down the street a ways away, the doors swinging open to show a couple, bundled up and smiling as one of the houses across the street burst open too. Through the glass and the music, I could just barely hear as the family from the house swept across their yard to embrace the newcomers, calling out 'Merry Christmas to each other.

I'd hardly sat down on the familiar leather couch when Grams shoved a package with purple and white foil wrapping into my lap. I guess we were getting right down to presents then, hm? I laughed as she fluttered her hands at me for me to open it up. I grinned as I unfolded a long, cottony soft red and black lumberjack-checkered cardigan. Grams was all about new clothes, which is why I usually ended up being pretty well dressed all the time. The cardigan was followed by whole outfits with skirts, pants, and shirts. While I always appreciated these kinds of gifts, I certainly relished in them now, considering that I had lost the rest of my belongings during the whole Mandarin encounter, including my clothes. Besides the outfit I had on now, I had nothing with me besides the rental car's keys, my combat suit and energy device, and my cellphone which now had a broken screen since it had been hidden in my combat suit with me during the fight.