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Frosted windowpanes
Candles gleaming inside
Painted candy canes on the tree
Santa's on his way
He's filled his sleigh with things
Things for you and for me…
Dan doesn’t know how it’s happened, really. One minute it was Thanksgiving and he was rushing to call his parents and let them know he won’t be joining their dinner table this year, and the next it’s somehow Christmas Eve. He scrubs a hand down his face with a sigh, straightens out his spine. He’s been down here in this fucking basement for coming up on nineteen hours, he figures it’s time to call it a night. There was little he could get done these days anyway, everyone he needs to contact is either on vacation or simply not returning his emails.
So, Dan wraps himself up in his coat, makes sure his scarf is on tightly to brave the D.C. winter – when had it started to snow? – and says goodnight to the guest security guard while his familiar friend is away in Pennsylvania for the holiday.
He resolves to ordering some takeout, putting on the Charlie Brown special like he does every year, and tries not to think about how lonely going back to his apartment will be, but well. He didn’t have anyone to spend the holiday with.
Or so he thinks.
It's that time of year
When the world falls in love
Every song you hear seems to say
Merry Christmas
May your New Year dreams come true…
When Dan approaches his apartment door, little brass key already in hand, he comes up short. There’s a light on that he can see through the crack underneath his door, can hear music playing softly, and most importantly, he can smell something absolutely delicious wafting down the hall. Frowning, he checks to make sure that this is indeed his apartment, but yes there it is, that’s his door.
Hesitantly, he half expects this to be some kind of trap that the CIA has planted for him as a punishment for sticking his nose where it “doesn’t belong”, but when he opens the door he’s faced with you.
You, standing in his kitchen, dancing to yourself along with the music that’s playing on the small radio Dan keeps on the counter. Just about every pot and pan that Dan owns is either on the stove or in the sink, his dining table completely filled with food being kept warm under tight silver foil wrappings. There’s a very small tree in the living room, decorated with white lights and silver tinsel, and all of the ornaments that Dan’s mother had given him when he moved into this place years ago.
How had you found that?
How had you done any of this?
But before he can start asking his questions, you hear him at the door, and immediately you lower the volume of the radio and wipe the flour off your hands onto a little dishtowel.
“You’re home!” You give him the most beautiful grin he’s ever seen in his life, and Dan wonders if he’s actually hallucinating.
You live directly across the hall from him, and he has been harboring something of a crush on you for as long as you’ve lived there. Your friendship had started as all too many friendly neighbor relationships had -- late night run-ins at the mail room, occasional bumps at the grocery store, sometimes Dan saw you in the park when he goes on his runs. You’ve offered him all sorts of extra sweets and food that you cook too much of, he’s always given you holiday cards, and lately your friendship had been blossoming into something closer.
Not necessarily close enough for you to break into his apartment, though.
“(Y/N)? What, how did you get in here?” Dan has to ask, has to be practical, even if he is hallucinating.
“You gave me a key, remember?” You reply, holding up the matching brass key to his front door.
“Oh that,” He remembers now, remembers how hard his heart had started to beat when he asked if you could swap keys, with the intention being, “But that was for emergencies only.”
You cast your gaze down, worried he’s going to be angry. And by all accounts, he should be, he should be very angry with you, but.
But well, he can’t think of anything more lovely, than you in his apartment.
“If you ask me, being alone on Christmas is as pressing of an emergency as any other.” You say so softly, gesturing to the huge spread that must have taken you an absolute age to put together, “I…well I hope you don’t mind, I made dinner.”
Dan’s face burns with embarrassment, he knows that he’s got practically nothing in his own fridge, nothing but a couple old takeout containers that should probably be thrown out by now, and expired milk. You must have brought everything but salt and pepper over, but you’re kind enough not to make a big fuss about it.
“I thought…weren’t you going traveling this year?” Dan finally steps fully into his apartment, closes and locks the door behind him. He sets down his briefcase and slips off his scarf, loosens his tie. For a moment his mind trips up with how domestic of an act that is; he might as well kiss you on your cheek and say, honey I’m home.
“My flight got canceled because of that blizzard.” You shake your head with a sad sigh, “I’m going to see family for New Year’s instead, and I thought why not surprise you with a little cheer?”
“I’m very surprised.” Dan nods, scratching the back of his neck, trying to process it all.
“You hate it, I’m sorry.” You take his tone the wrong way, immediately start to clean up the mess you’ve made, face falling and burning with shame.
“What? No -- !” Dan trips over his tongue trying to apologize. He rushes to you, his big palms on your arms, looking you directly in the eye, “No, I don’t hate it. I – I’m – thank you.”
He means it earnestly, means it so much that he doesn’t know how to even describe it, how grateful he is for you.
“You’re welcome.” Smiling again, the look you give Dan has relief rushing through the both of your chests as you ask gently, “Want to change into something comfortable, and we’ll eat?”
Dan just nods, goes into his bedroom.
And when he emerges in a pair of soft trousers and a sweater, you offer him a plate.
And this song of mine
In three-quarter time
Wishes you and yours
The same thing too
Santa's on his way
He's filled his sleigh with things
Things for you and for me…
The dinner is incredible, it’s so flavorful that it makes Dan wonder what the hell he’s been eating all this time. He never knew food could be so good, or maybe he did once upon a time – a time before this case. He sighs, suddenly feeling so weary, resenting how this whole thing has spiraled into something so all-consuming. It would be easier if he had help, but he was very aware of how on his own he was.
At least, he was regarding the case.
You’re sitting opposite from him, and it’s so nice to have another person to look at, to talk to, to be with, at dinner time. He doesn’t think he’s had all these lights on at once in a long time, he almost doesn’t recognize his own apartment without the blue glow of the television in the dark.
“Have you been here long?” Dan wonders aloud, trying to piece together how and when you managed to get all this done.
“Kind of, but that’s okay. The radio and all the cooking kept me company. You’re back earlier than I was expecting, if you can believe it.” You chuckle into your glass, checking your watch to see what time it even was.
Dan’s heart does a little flip at the insinuation that you’ve been paying attention to his schedule. He’s got yours perfectly memorized too, had learned it so that he could try and stage something where he might pluck up the courage to ask you out.
Did this count? Was this a date of some sort?
The radio is playing softly, the lights on the Christmas tree twinkle and blink slowly, you’ve even put up the fake fireplace channel on the television in the living room, the digital crackle filling the apartment with placebo warmth. You’re both in comfortable cozy clothes, your shoes are off, Dan’s got a stain of gravy on his sweater – it’s the most intimate thing Dan has ever experienced.
“Everything’s delicious, I can’t remember the last time I ate something so good.” He compliments your cooking, unsure of how he’s going to actually be able to finish all of this. Hopefully you’ll take some back to your apartment when the night is over.
The very thought of that has his chest tightening – he doesn’t want you to leave. He doesn’t want this night to be over, he realizes, when you grow flustered at his compliments. Dan would give anything to get to see you look at him like that again, every day.
“I’m really glad you like it, Daniel.” You smile softly, eyes filled with something like fondness.
“Call me Dan.” He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard, so hard when your foot brushes against his gently, and you say just barely above a whisper in an agreement,
“Dan.”
It's that time of year
When the world falls in love
Every song you hear seems to say
Merry Christmas
May your New Year dreams come true…
You’ve both finished as much as you can eat, and Dan is dreading this part.
This is the part where you part ways, where you leave and go back all the way across the hall, and Dan’s alone again. He’s got a dishwasher and for the first time in his life he wishes that he hadn’t, just so the dishes would take longer, and he’d have more time to be with you.
But just as he thinks you’re about to do the whole it’s getting late…you catch something on the radio, and your whole face lights up.
“Oh – !” You gasp, turning the dial up a bit as Frank Sinatra’s voice croons and fills the apartment, “This is one of my favorite songs.”
“Really? Mine too.” Dan grins, thinking how lucky he is, how could he ever be so lucky!
“Dance with me, please?” You practically plead, your hands grasping for his and holding them tight to your chest, making Dan blink and blush and sweat a little.
“Don’t make fun of me if I step on your toes.” He nods, and you’re beaming at him, so filled with joy as he leads you to the small floor space of his living room.
This must be a dream, Dan thinks. It has to be, there’s no reality in which he’s got you in his arms, and you’re waltzing around to the music. Neither of you step on one another’s toes, but even if you had, you wouldn’t have minded. It was bliss, being here with you, sheer bliss.
He brings you around and around his living room, twirls you until you’re laughing, until you’re dizzy and pressed up against his chest, stars in your eyes.
“Stay with me tonight.” Dan whispers, officially throwing caution to the wind, rubbing his thumb across your cheek, “I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to go either.” You admit with a whisper right back, and Dan fears he’s going to black out, when you stretch up and close the short distance between your mouths, kissing him gently on the lips.
His arms tighten around you, eyes shutting tightly as he wills himself not to cry. Of all the things that had happened this year, of all the shit he’s had to deal with – this moment makes up for it, for all of it. The kiss is filled with a yearning, a mutual longing that is finally being released after who knows how long.
When he pulls away, your foreheads rest against one another and he’s practically panting, feeling his heart grow three times its size.
“Dan?” You whisper, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Yes?” He hugs you close, tucks your head underneath his chin.
“Merry Christmas.” You hug him back, the both of you swaying to the music as it fades out, knowing that now, when the night is over, nothing will be the same.
But it’ll be for the better, because you’ll be together.
And this song of mine
In three-quarter time
Wishes you and yours
Everyone
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas
May your New Year dreams come true.