Chapter Text
Nefer woke slowly, the morning light pale and muted as it filtered through the window. For a few seconds, the previous night lingered in a fog until awareness settled in. Beside her, Lauma lay still, listening to the quiet sounds of the house coming to life. Nefer shifted carefully, hesitant, as if moving too much might disturb more than just sleep.
Neither of them spoke at first. When words finally came, they were soft and measured, the polite tone of people unsure where they stood with one another. They avoided each other’s eyes as they sat up, straightened rumpled clothes, and smoothed hair that refused to behave.
The snow had finally stopped. Outside, a clean blanket of white stretched across the ground, bright in the morning light. Children laughed and shouted as they built snowmen and lobbed snowballs at one another. Nefer and Lauma stood side by side at the window, watching the scene unfold in silence, sharing the moment without quite sharing each other.
After some time, they made their way downstairs.
Lauma’s parents were already settled in the living room, wrapped in festive sweaters and holding oversized mugs that steamed gently in the warm air. The room smelled faintly of cinnamon and coffee.
"Merry Christmas!" Lauma’s dad boomed, rising from his seat to pull his daughter into a tight hug. He laughed as he placed a pair of reindeer antlers on Lauma’s head before turning to Nefer and handing her a Santa hat with a grin.
"Merry Christmas," Nefer replied, returning the smile, her voice polite steady.
They exchanged a few easy pleasantries - comments about the snow, the cold, how early everyone had woken up. Eventually, Lauma mentioned that they’d be heading back to her place for the morning, but that they’d come by again for lunch later. Her parents exchanged a glance, understanding passing silently between them.
"Of course," her mother said warmly. "Take your time."
Outside once more, the cold bit at their faces as Nefer and Lauma began the walk back to Lauma’s house. Snow crunched softly beneath their boots, each step muffled by the fresh layer. They were still in pyjamas, coats thrown on hastily over familiar fabric, breath fogging in the air as they walked side by side through the quiet, winter-bright morning
The walk back was unhurried. The neighborhood was calm, the earlier excitement of children’s voices fading into the distance as they moved back into their own homes to play with their newly-gifted toys.
Lauma broke the silence first. "They’ll probably make too much food," she said lightly, adjusting the antlers still perched on her head. "Lunch will turn into… an event. Especially with you here."There was no accusation in her voice, just a pragmatic acceptance of how her family was.
Nefer huffed a quiet laugh, the sound surprising both of them. "I remember," she replied. "Your dad always likes to make the most of a moment."
Another stretch of silence followed, this one easier. Nefer fidgeted with the Santa hat in her hands before finally pulling it on, tugging it down against the cold. The wool itched slightly, and she frowned, but the warmth was immediate.
Lauma snorted, the sound escaping before she could stop it. The image stirred an old, familiar memory - Nefer’s long-standing disdain for "Mr. Claus." She had a habit of launching into overly serious lecture about the figure, utterly unamused by the concept.
"What?" Nefer asked, glancing sideways, one eyebrow lifting as she glared at Lauma.
"Oh, nothing," Lauma replied a little too quickly.
"That didn’t sound like nothing."
Lauma smiled despite herself. "It’s just… funny seeing you wear that. You always hated Father Christmas."
"I still do," Nefer said defensively. "My head is cold. This is purely a practical decision."
"Right," Lauma said, amused. "A tragic compromise."
Nefer scoffed. "Please. Not everyone can pull off antlers like you."
Lauma lifted her chin slightly, mock-proud, and Nefer shook her head. There was a smile forming at the corner of her mouth before she could stop it. It felt dangerous, letting herself smile like that, but also comforting, like slipping into an old suit that still fit.
They kept walking. Lauma watched their footprints trail behind them, parallel but not quite touching, and felt the quiet weight of everything she wasn’t saying. She still hurt. That hadn’t vanished. But the sharp edge of it had dulled, replaced by something more manageable.
She slowed her steps slightly and spoke. "We don’t have to figure everything out today, Nefer"
Nefer looked at her then, properly this time.
"It’s Christmas," Lauma continued, shrugging lightly, as if she were talking about something simple. "We can just enjoy the pleasures of the day. The time for digging through the past can arrive at a later date."
There was a pause, the cold air hanging between them.
"I think I’d like that," Nefer replied.
The door opened with gusto, and Ashru leapt inside, claws skittering slightly on the floor before he caught his balance. He’d slept through most of the walk home, bundled in the carrier, but the moment they were a few meters from the door he’d sprung awake, energy fully restored. Now he bounded ahead, tail flicking as he took in the familiar space.
Nefer and Lauma followed more slowly, shaking snow from their coats. The warmth of the house settled around them almost immediately.
Ashru paused mid-step, head tilting as he took in the living room. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, branches heavy with ornaments and twinkling lights that cast a soft, golden glow across the room. Beneath it sat a chaotic sprawl of presents: bright paper, neat ribbons, boxes of every shape and size.
Nefer stopped short.
Her gaze landed first on the tree, then dropped slowly to the gifts beneath it. Two of them she recognized immediately - the ones she had brought for Lauma. But beside and behind them sat far more than she’d expected. Small boxes, thin parcels, carefully wrapped bundles stacked and tucked together.
Lauma winced just a little, then smiled, rubbing the back of her neck as she walked toward the tree. “I might have gone overboard.”
Nefer blinked. “Overboard?”
Lauma crouched and picked up one of the smaller boxes, turning it over in her hands. “Some of these are Christmas gifts from last year. Some are things I picked up over the year. Stuff I saw and thought - oh, Nefer would like that.” She hesitated, then added more softly, “Even if we were apart, it was difficult to shake you from my thoughts.”
Ashru, clearly deciding this was an acceptable pause in attention, flopped down near the tree and immediately began nosing at a ribbon.
The omen settled onto the floor together, backs against the couch, the tree lights reflecting faintly in the window. Lauma handed Nefer the smallest box first.
Nefer hesitated, her fingers lightly grazing the edges of the box. “You didn't have to-”
“I wanted to,” Lauma said simply, her tone firm in a way that stated that it was not up for argument.
With a sigh, Nefer unwrapped the delicate paper, her breath catching slightly as she pulled the gift free. Inside was a small necklace, its chain thin and graceful, the pendant a simple gold snake, polished to a soft gleam. She ran her thumb over it, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.
But that wasn’t the end of it. The boxes kept coming.
The next held a set of painting supplies. The brushes had delicate and fine tips with wooden handles that smooth and polished. Alongside them were tubes of vibrant acrylics in every shade imaginable, from rich blues and fiery reds to cool, tranquil greens.
The third box was compact, almost unassuming, yet when Nefer carefully opened it, her breath caught. Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, was a pair of gloves . They were made from leather that was a rich chestnut brown, soft as if they had been worn for years despite being brand new.
Another box came, this time a bangle, its metal shimmering with a blend of copper and gold, creating a fiery, warm hue. The bangle was delicate but strong, with tiny engravings swirling around its circumference, as though it carried with it ancient stories of faraway lands.
Next, there was a set of pens. There were some fountain pens with glistening nibs, others sleek gel pens that glided across paper with the softest of touches. The inks ranged from stark blacks to brilliant emerald greens, perfect for either writing or sketching.
And then, another box. This one was heavier. Nefer lifted the lid and found two small, decorative pots - both ceramic, painted with intricate floral patterns in muted earth tones, their glazes shiny and smooth. They were the perfect size for houseplants,of which Nefer had many.
Each item felt like a piece of Lauma’s love, wrapped in layers of care and thoughtfulness. Nefer’s heart swelled as she ran her fingers over each gift, her mind racing with the memories of how Lauma had always known what would bring a smile to her face.
Lauma watched Nefer unwrap each gift, her heart beating faster with every gentle tug of the paper, every ribbon that came undone. She noticed the flicker of surprise in Nefer’s eyes with each new box, the subtle shift in her expression that told Lauma she was truly seeing the thought behind each gift. Her pulse quickened as Nefer examined each item, but it slowed just as quickly when Nefer’s soft smile and appreciative words revealed how much she liked them.
They were midway through the pile when Nefer’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
She stiffened immediately. Nefer already knew who it would be. She pulled the phone out and glanced at the screen. Jahoda. Of course.
“…Sorry,” she said, standing. “I need to take this.”
Lauma nodded, though something in her expression shifted. Concern, maybe, or simply the awareness that the fragile bubble they were in couldn’t last forever.
Nefer stepped to the side, turning slightly away as she answered. “Yeah?”
Jahoda’s voice came through bright and insistent. “Nefer! You vanished. You okay? How'd you like my gifts?”
Nefer leaned against the wall, eyes darting back toward the living room, where Lauma was now carefully re-folding torn wrapping paper while Ashru batting at a bow nearby. The scene tugged at her in a way that made her chest ache.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just… catching up with someone.”
Jahoda laughed. “Someone, huh? You’re being vague, Boss.”
“Not now,” Nefer replied, rubbing her temple. “I’ll explain later.”
There was a pause on the line, then a softer, more measured response. “Alright. Later. Don’t disappear again. Call me when you open your gifts!”
Nefer hung up and stood there for a moment longer than necessary, steadying herself. When she returned to the living room, Lauma looked up at her, waiting with another present in her hands.
"Nope," said Nefer, causing Lauma to frown ever so slightly. "I'm giving your gifts yet. This exchange has been most unequitable so far."
Lauma rolled her eyes. "Gift-giving is not about equity, Nefer. But… I am not opposed to unwrapping my presents next."
Nefer took a deep breath, her fingers brushing over the edges of the larger box before she gently set it down in front of Lauma. She hesitated for just a second, as if the weight of the moment was catching up with her, but then she smiled, a little sheepish. “I hope you like it,” she said softly, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
Lauma’s eyes brightened, curiosity sparkling in them as she reached for the box. The wrapping paper rustled beneath her hands, and she carefully removed the layers, revealing a sleek, sturdy telescope. The polished metal shimmered in the light, with intricate, detailed engravings on its body, its lens a perfect circle of possibility. Alongside it was a stack of astronomy books filled with star maps and stories about distant galaxies, constellations, and the history of the cosmos. It was a gift that spoke of the nights spent gazing up at the stars, the curiosity that Lauma had always shared, and Nefer’s understanding of her fascination with the universe.
Lauma looked up, her eyes soft and warm, joy in her expression. It was like Nefer had given her pieces of herself, carefully wrapped and chosen with such thought.
Next, Nefer pushed the smaller box forward, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. “And... this one’s a little different,” she added, a playful smile tugging at her lips. When Lauma opened it, inside was a delicate, hand-carved wooden box, its lid etched with abstract swirls and geometric patterns. As Lauma lifted the lid, she found a set of tiny, intricate wooden puzzle pieces. Each one seemed to be designed to fit together in a way that revealed a hidden picture or a secret message. It was a puzzle for the mind, something to work on over time, and as Lauma held it in her hands, Nefer explained, "I thought you’d enjoy this... something to keep you busy when you need a little distraction. Plus, when I commissioned it, I thought it was something we can do together. You were curious about my worlk, and I thought this may be an apt, though analogous, manner to demonstrate what weaving networks and harnessing intel looks like."
Lauma was taken aback, her hands momentarily pausing on the wooden puzzle box as her gaze drifted to Nefer. She hadn’t expected this. Nefer had always been so guarded when it came to her work, her private thoughts, her projects. There had always been an invisible barrier thar Nefer never quite let anyone cross.
Lauma’s heart gave a quiet flutter as she realized that this would have been Nefer's attempt at breaking the silence of her private world. Lauma couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for doubting that Nefer might be willing to share more. Maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong about Nefer’s unwillingness to let anyone close.
After the presents had been opened, the morning had taken on a quiet rhythm. Nefer had stepped out to fetch Ashru’s food from the car, leaving Lauma alone in the soft glow of the living room. When Nefer returned, carrying the food in a small bag, she found the kitchen light on, Lauma quietly moving around.
The warm scent of something baking filled the air. There was something about it - the rich sweetness of pie, or maybe something else, some other dessert she couldn’t quite place - that made her take a deep breath in.
She paused at the threshold of the kitchen, watching Lauma move around quietly. There was something soothing in the way she worked, the grace in her small, deliberate actions. Nefer stood there for a moment longer than necessary, the flutter in her chest returning, though it felt different now, softer. It reminded her of how things once were from the quiet closeness to the way they could occupy the same space without needing to speak, without needing to explain. But that space between them had changed, hadn’t it? There was something new in the air tonight, something neither of them could ignore.
Nefer cleared her throat, making her presence known. "What are you making?" she asked, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
Lauma turned her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder. She met Nefer’s gaze with a faint smile. "Nothing really - I'm just reheating some treacle pie." She glanced back at the pie for a moment, then back to Nefer, her eyes soft but steady.
Nefer nodded, but she didn’t move any closer. The tension from before hadn’t completely dissipated, and she wasn’t sure what Lauma was thinking, or what she wanted.
Nefer stood there, the silence thickening between them. Then, Lauma spoke again, her voice low but purposeful, her eyes flicking to the doorframe where Nefer stood.
“Standing there on purpose?” Lauma asked, her words gentle but carrying an challenging edge. Her eyes flicked to the doorframe where Nefer stood. “Or, is there something you’re waiting for?”
Nefer felt her breath catch. She didn’t respond right away, unsure of what Lauma meant. Lauma didn’t move, but she tilted her head slightly, her eyes fixed on Nefer with a questioning intensity. The moment stretched for what felt like an eternity, but then, without another word, Lauma took a step closer, her hands gently resting on Nefer’s arms.
And in that instant, the world seemed to pause.
The mistletoe hung above them, an innocent little sprig.
Nefer’s heart was beating faster than it had all night as Lauma closed the space between them, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, as if neither of them were sure how to navigate it.
When they pulled apart, Nefer's eyes were closed for a moment, her breath shallow. "I... haven’t apologized yet," she murmured, the words slipping out in the space between them. She hadn’t meant to say them, hadn’t meant to bring up the weight of her guilt just then.
Lauma’s hand gently cupped her cheek, her thumb brushing across the soft skin as if to soothe the emotional tension. “That's alright for now,” she replied softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I told you we would not worry about that today. But... you can think of this as a start of your apology.”
Before either of them could overthink it, Nefer leaned in, and Lauma followed. Their foreheads brushed for a moment, a nervous laugh escaping both of them, and then their lips met again.
As the warmth of the kiss settled over them, the quiet longing of the past year - the anger, the heartbreak, the lingering affection - found its way into the gesture. Lauma’s hand drifted to Nefer’s cheek, fingers brushing lightly against her skin, tracingthe familiar curve she hadn’t wanted to let go of.
Nefer responded instinctively, leaning closer, letting her hands rest on Lauma’s shoulders, pulling her just slightly nearer. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, a conversation without words. Every unspoken apology, every regret, every flicker of hope - everything that had hovered between them - was pressed into that single moment.
Lauma’s breath hitched when Nefer’s lips softened against hers, and the faintest shiver ran down her spine. I still care. I’ve never stopped caring. She didn’t have to say it. Nefer felt it anyway, letting her own fingers tighten slightly, conveying I know. Me too.