Chapter Text
It's Leota’s first year as a CEO, as a real boss and she has every intention of showing her employees that they made the right decision in working for her. Managing your friends in a group effort to save the world from itself is a tough job, but she’s pulled it off the best that she can. The breakup between Chris and Adrian had been messy, but it was bound to be messy considering the way Adrian is, so really she should give herself some credit.
That’s what Adrian figures Leota must be thinking to herself as she flits around the office in preparation for their mandatory office holiday party. (Mandatory? Rip had asked. Yes, mandatory, come on! Leota answered.) Leota cares an awful lot about the aesthetics of everything, even when her mother isn’t looming around the corner, and Adrian finds it absurd. He’s not mad at Leota (today), but he does still move her decorations around when she’s not looking and gets a kick out of watching her panic and reorient them.
The attire for the party was up to everyone individually, and collectively they spanned the entire spectrum of holiday garments. At one end there was Emilia and Rip, both wearing the exact same outfit they’d wear any other day of the year. Then there was Fleury, who had shown up for work today in a three-piece suit, powder blue with an incomprehensible snowflake and reindeer tie. John and Sasha arrived with holiday sweaters; Sasha’s makes her look like a Christmas tree with fake lights circling her body while John’s features a cozy polar bear family exchanging gifts. Adrian is in the Santa costume he bought especially for today, even the wig and beard despite Lee’s insistence to take it off. Adrian had successfully argued his case that considering it was a mandatory holiday party, if he wasn’t here today this would be what he was wearing. 'It’s not even Christmas!’ Leota protested, but the team ultimately voted in Adrian’s favour.
And Chris, when he arrived later in the day, was wearing something Adrian could barely see, so he cleaned off his glasses and looked again but it was still the same image even if he couldn’t process it. It barely fit Chris anymore, all these years later, and Adrian is certain it would fall apart in the next wash after having its seams under so much tension. Distorted across his large chest, the cherubic Santa’s face was warped into something more menacing. The lettering of the MERRY CHRISMYASS emblazoned across the top was crumbling but still legible.
It had been years since Adrian had seen that shirt. The last time he’d seen it was when he’d first started at Fennel Fields, half his life ago when they were different people: when his biggest concern was saving up to get out of his fucking house, to get away from Gut and his mother and the town that had never wanted him there in the first place. Back then, when his mother insisted that he buy Christmas presents for them all on account of his first job, he’d appeased his mother with a fancy soap and his brother with socks. He’d thought long and hard about what to get Chris, because in all those years they’d known each other he had never seen Chris with a gift of his own. He would find cool things instead of receiving them, and he would tell Adrian to be careful before he handed them off for his inspection—not because he didn’t trust the boy but because he was reminding him. This is important to me, Chris said without ever speaking. Be gentle.
Back then, in the before times, when it was Adrian and Gut and Chris. But it was mostly Adrian and Gut then, while Chris watched on uneasily. Look what I can make him do, Gut would say, and Chris wouldn’t look directly but would look just past Adrian, trying to see him beyond his exposure. He heals so fast it barely hurts him. It did hurt but Adrian didn’t say anything, because it was better to have his insides seen than to be ignored entirely.
Back then, Adrian had spent the majority of his money on that fucking shirt for Chris. That thing didn’t come cheap, he’d had to order it from a printing shop himself, spending the money on the bus fare both ways to place the order and to retrieve it too. He’d bought it ahead of time, before his mother had demanded gifts for everyone, as he’d had every intention of setting aside his escape to get Chris his first present that wasn’t a weapon.
Adrian had never seen Chris like when he tore off the wrapping. He’d seen him mad, with his jaw set and his veins bulging, and he’d seen him excited when he made a lucky shot or killed Dorian in a video game. Chris was a person who lived from moment to moment, an entire life of highlight reels tinted red. But what Adrian had seen that night was a Chris transfixed, holding that stupid fucking shirt like it had changed his life. When their eyes finally met, Chris didn’t even say thank you, he just stared at Adrian with that same lost expression and it honestly gave Adrian the creeps.
But he must have liked the shirt plenty considering he wore it every day for the rest of the year. He’d kept it stashed in Gut’s room because he was sure his father would have had an aneurysm if he ever saw it. Over the years it showed up again and again, especially during the holidays, until one day Chris didn’t come over at all anymore.
‘Can’t,’ he’d mumble over the phone when Dorian would ring him up. ‘Busy with training.’
Eventually Dorian stopped calling, despite Adrian’s protesting. He wouldn’t even tell Adrian Chris’ phone number, because according to Dorian: ‘You’re the reason he doesn’t want to hang out anymore’. One day Chris was just gone, and then one day Dorian was gone too, and it was just Adrian left in a house that wasn’t even haunted because not even ghosts wanted to be around him.
Adrian inhales sharply at the sight and the memories it brings with it, and he can tell by Chris’ expression that he knows he’s struck a nerve. When Adrian can manage to do so, he pulls his eyes away to look at anything else, and he eventually finds John, who is watching him with concern. The impulse to go over to him passes through Adrian, but instead of being stuck talking about feelings he opts to look through the paltry buffet Leota has set up for their party. While he is staring at a tray of cupcakes and trying to decide whether chocolate or vanilla icing is less disgusting, Sasha joins him on his left.
‘Adrian,’ Sasha greets him and this might actually be the first time she has addressed him directly. Adrian turns to look at her. She is wearing her signature half-smile, a contraction of muscles that comes easy to her. Adrian can’t help but wonder how much of her chooses to smile, or if she’s programmed that way. He wishes he had been coded to be human. Maybe then all of this wouldn’t be so difficult.
There’s a silence between them, where Adrian returns to staring at the cupcakes and Sasha waits for him to say something. When he doesn’t speak up, Sasha picks up the conversation for them: ‘Economouse said you brought everyone gifts?’
‘Huh?’ Adrian is pulled from his reverie by Sasha’s question. ‘Yeah, uh, yeah I did.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Sasha says while she looks at Adrian. Even if he doesn’t return her gaze, he is still very aware of her presence at his side. ‘You’re a good friend.’
Adrian can’t help but snort derisively at this. Sasha is so painfully new to the team that she doesn’t even know how funny her comment is, and Adrian allows his snort to devolve into a guffaw and finally a laugh. It feels good to get out of him, better for it to be chuckles than an ear-splitting scream. Sasha watches Adrian clutch his chest while he giggles, and if she finds it odd she doesn’t say anything, opting to observe him silently.
Eventually, Adrian’s laughter dies down. Sasha is still there, and he smiles at her—his attempt at a real smile, the one that makes his cheeks hurt with the tension in his musculature. ‘Thanks, Sasha.’ She’s not sure what she is being thanked for, but she nods all the same.
Adrian claps his hands together, and everyone at Checkmate snaps their attention to him and his ridiculous Santa outfit. It’s time to get the party started. ‘Who wants presents?’ Adrian calls out in a sing-songy voice, ready to blow his friends away with just how good of a friend he is.
‘Presents?’ Rip says cautiously, his eyes quickly finding Leota and staring daggers into hers. Leota from a year ago might have flinched, but now she only swallows, continuing to meet Rip’s glare. ‘Nobody said we were supposed to buy presents.’
‘Nobody was expected to buy presents,’ Leota clarifies. Part of her wants to point out that the buffet and days off were presents, but she abstains. ‘If Adrian chose to buy presents then that is his prerogative.’ When she glances over at Adrian, he’s digging around in a bright red sack. Her voice falters a bit at Adrian’s enthusiasm. ‘I just, well, Adrian I hope you got something for everyone?’
‘Yeah, of course, I’m not an asshole,’ Adrian responds, then looks around the room. ‘So, who’s first?’
Nobody wants to break the silence. Some are looking at everyone else: Emilia, Rip, Chris. Others are looking anywhere but at each other: Fleury, Leota, John. Sasha is watching Adrian, and so he winks at her. Her expression does not change, still that same pouty smile, but her left eyebrow twitches slightly.
‘Alright,’ Adrian says, cutting the tension decisively. ‘Fleury, come sit on Santa’s lap.’
Langston is surprised to be the first chosen. In fact, he is surprised to be included in the event at all. He’d presumed that this was an ‘11th Street Kids’ thing, whatever that meant considering Evergreen didn’t even have an 11th Street. Adrian’s grin is contagious, and Langston can find himself breaking into one too as he comes over to Adrian and his sack of mysteries.
‘I’m not sitting in your lap,’ Langston says, eyeing the newspaper-wrapped gift in Adrian’s hands.
‘No, dude, come on!’ Adrian protests because that’s not at all what he meant. ‘It’s just what Santa is supposed to say, okay? Take this.’
When Langston takes the gift, it’s light in his hand. Guessing what the gift might be is impeded by the sloppy wrapping: lumpy and barely taped together. He takes his seat and watches contemplatively as Adrian hands out presents to everyone except Ginger Cool himself. Langston watches John shift his feet as the presents are handed out, clutching his cup of punch to keep it from spilling as he fidgets. When it’s down to Leota, who had worried slightly that she might not be included, the punch is long gone and Langston wonders if John might just crack the cup with how tightly he’s gripping it. Langston’s eyebrows raise involuntarily when Adrian announces everyone is allowed to open their gifts—he thought Ginger Cool and Adrian were close. With a shrug, he tears the newspaper off his gift and holds it up.
‘Birds of the Pacific Northwest?’ Langston reads from the cover, looking over at Adrian and his manic smile.
‘Yeah, dude, isn’t it great? We can look through it together, and I can even quiz you on them! You never know when it might come in handy on a mission.’
The part of Langston that wants to scoff is held back; Adrian was making an effort to bond with him, even if it was clumsy. ‘Thanks, man.’
‘A remote?’ Emilia calls from across the room, holding up her gift with incredulity. ‘Adrian, what the fuck am I supposed to do with a remote? I don’t even have a TV.’
‘You didn’t have a TV,’ Adrian clarifies.
‘You broke into my house dude?’ Emilia queries, but there’s very little anger in her voice, just a lot of resignation. Yeah, of course Adrian broke into her house, but it was certainly the type of gift that she would have refused if it had been offered to her directly.
‘I did not break into your house,’ Adrian responds. ‘I definitely had a key.’ Emilia doesn’t even bother to challenge him on this, sitting back in her chair and rotating the remote in her hand thoughtfully.
Leota’s squeal when she opens her gift draws everyone’s attention, as she pulls a Yorkshire Terrier stuffed animal from its newspaper carapace. ‘Oh Adrian, this is so sweet of you!’
‘There’s some clothes too, in the wrapping paper,’ Adrian says with a grin. Leota has tears in her eyes, so Adrian is pretty confident he it out of the park with Leota at least.
Against his will, Adrian finds Chris, who is sitting beside Emilia. He’d waited for other people to open their presents first, not interested in being the centre of attention. Out of the wrapping, he finds a small pin and a belt. It takes Chris a second to understand what he is holding in his hands; Emilia asks him what it is and all he can do is shrug. Rolling the needle between his fingers, it hits him through the chest when he finally realises what Adrian has bought for him—the parts to restore his record player. It wasn’t anything fancy, it was probably shit when Keith had gotten it for Christmas all those years ago, but it had still worked up until the cops had raided his trailer and damaged it. Chris hadn’t had the time to fix it since, and he hadn’t been in the mood to listen to music because of it.
When Chris looks up, Adrian is watching him with storm clouds behind his eyes. Adrian, still in the throes of his fury with Chris for how things had ended, had still bought him a Christmas gift—his second ever. Even if Chris appreciated his newfound relationships with Emilia and Leota, he has to admit that nobody could ever know him so entirely and accept him so completely the way Adrian has. Thank you Chris mouths across the room. Adrian nods curtly and looks away.
‘What’s this?’ Rip asks, shaking the box in his hands. ‘Doesn’t sound like Cheetos.’
‘Because it’s not,’ Adrian says while rolling his eyes. ‘You could at least open it.’
After tearing open the wrapping paper, Rip stares down at the box of assorted hot sauces. He looks back at Adrian, confused, and Adrian is eager to explain it. ‘It’s a hot sauce challenge, where each level is even spicier. That way we can settle once and for all which of us is tougher.’
Rip breaks out into a grin. ‘Oh, you are so on, I’m going to destroy you.’
‘Count me in for that!’ Chris hollers, excited to test his mettle.
Adrian rolls his eyes, of course Chris would want to join in. ‘You can’t even handle spicy chicken wings, P.’ The group erupts into laughter, and a genuine smile tugs on Adrian’s lips.
Sasha didn’t make any loud exclamations when she opened the card she’d received. It was slightly bent after being wrapped up with the ankle holster that was presumably the real gift. As she read the contents of the card, a smile began to bloom on her face. Adrian is watching her take it in, and it’s as if she knew he was watching because she looks up at him before he can play it off nonchalantly, and she winks at him. Adrian remembers he is supposed to breathe.
With the gifts revealed, the team falls into comfortable chatter and Leota turns on the playlist she’d been up late curating. Adrian allows hugs from the people who ask: Leota and Fleury. Emilia punches his shoulder, and he thinks less about punching her back than he usually would. John is avoiding him entirely for some reason and is instead very interested in reading the card that Sasha very clearly wants to keep hidden from him.
Adrian picks up all the shredded newspaper and bins it. He heads to the back of the office to find a broom and dustpan, but before he can find it Chris has grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the storage room. It’s been a long time since Chris has touched him, but Adrian is confident that he would remember those hands for the rest of his life.
‘Hey,’ Chris says casually, as casually as one can after almost yanking their ex-best-friend’s arm out of its socket just to have a private word.
‘Hey,’ Adrian responds sullenly. Against his better judgement, some part of him is ecstatic to be talking to Chris, after all this time. After everything that happened.
‘I’m sorry how things ended up, dude,’ Chris begins, wiping a slightly trembling hand down his face. Adrian watches his other hand shake: he doesn’t want to meet Chris’ eyes. ‘It was messy, I’m immature and I don’t know how to handle these things. Neither of us do.’ Chris is searching Adrian’s face but getting nothing back. ‘It doesn’t excuse how I treated you.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Adrian says coldly. He’d rather be anywhere other than here right now. He’d rather drink an entire bottle of the hottest hot sauce he bought for Rip. He’d rather let Leota hug him over and over, and she’s really soft so it feels like being drowned by pillows. Anything would be better than having this conversation with Chris while he’s wearing that shirt.
‘I’m sorry, Adrian,’ Chris is already exasperated by this conversation. Talking with Adrian was always like this, where Adrian would take everything one way and refuse to concede any ground. Even when they were Peacemaker and Vigilante, hell even when they were Chris and Adrian, when Adrian was a spindly weed and a thorn in his side, Adrian always had to talk back. He hadn’t had his insolence beaten out of him the way Chris had, and it was wasted on Adrian because he could actually speak his mind but never ever spoke about his feelings honestly. ‘You’re still family, V.’
Adrian shakes his head urgently, desperately even. ‘No, we’re not family, we’re not even related.’
‘Yeah, I know, but come on man,’ Chris says while rolling his eyes. ‘You know what I mean. I still care about you.’
‘You’re not my brother.’ It’s said so coldly that it passes along Chris’ skin like a wraith, sending a chill through him. He’s not Gut, no, but was he any better than him? Was how he had treated Adrian really any better than what Gut had done to him, than what Chris had seen, than what Chris had just let happen?
‘No, I’m not, but I want to be better to you,’ Chris is fighting with himself to get the words out. This is not at all like how he had practiced it with Emilia and Leota. He needs to say this, to finally own up to what he had done to Adrian, to try and make amends. Even before Vigilante was revealed to be Adrian, that boy had still crossed his mind for years. In his worst moments, when he can’t turn away from the monster inside of him, he could see Adrian’s face and his searching eyes. Look, Gut would say, and Chris did look sometimes, but only when Adrian would let him. It’s okay, you can look. ‘I know your brother was a piece of shit and I’m sorry, I’m sorry Adrian, for all of it. For everything I saw and everything I didn’t ask about. I’m sorry for not stopping it. Let me do right by you from now on.’
It's only when he balls his hands into fists that Adrian realises he is shaking. The rage inside of him is singeing his insides, filling him with the smoke of his own charred innards. The words come out of his mouth like bullets. ‘I don’t need you to be my brother, I need you to be my friend, and apparently I’m not worth being friends with so let’s just be coworkers and move on with our lives.’
Chris reaches out his hand again but Adrian dodges it. He thinks about punching Chris, right then and there. He thinks about finally putting his hands around Chris’ neck and putting them both out of their fucking misery. Several feet away, he can see John and Sasha have left their seats and are walking towards him. The anger coiled in Adrian’s stomach unfurls and releases itself along his next exhale, dispersing in the air around them. He looks at Chris, whose anger has given way to hot tears that spill from his eyes. Adrian had won; Chris was in shambles and it was about damn time because it had been Adrian suffering in the silence alone for the past few months.
‘Merry Christmas Chris,’ Adrian says softly, and he does mean it. He wants Chris to be happy, and if Chris’ happiness requires them to be separated, then he supposes he wants that as well. It’s closure, in some sense of the word, because after wanting to talk about it for months he has found himself with nothing else he wants to say. Adrian has friends now, plural, he has people who cry when he chooses them the perfect gift. He has people who listen to him, who don’t call him names, who have his back as much as he has theirs.
Adrian takes a deep breath and walks back towards the party, back towards the new friends that welcome him with open arms. John's strong hand squeezes his shoulder, and Sasha offers him a cup of off-brand lemon-lime beverage. Adrian accepts both with genuine gratitude.
It’s a merry Christmas after all.