Archive of Our Own ^beta

Numbers opened the door and saw horse. Wrench was in horse head mask again.

- Right. - said bearded man and went to the living room.

It was a day before Christmas Eve, but Wrench began preparing since November. He was dragging a huge variety of stupid festive things in their apartment, such as sticky snowflakes, garlands, tons of mistletoe (at a reasonable question, why the heck does he take so many, he said it’s a part of his secret plan), Santa hats and, finally, that horse head mask, that he wore in those days he had a particularly good mood.

Numbers himself didn’t like Christmas that much - he had never associated it with any especially good memories, although Wrench was definitely making him feel a little bit different about holidays. This time Wrench said he’s going to make "one of the best Christmases, with lots of gifts and good memories." Numbers then looked at him as he was a loony, but said nothing. After all, Wrench can do whatever he wanted to, if it was corresponding with two rules: 1)his actions won’t irritate Numbers; 2)his actions won’t include a destruction of property.

Entering the living room, she stretched out on a chair. Wrench went after him, pulling off his mask. «Bad news, Wrench» - signed Numbers. – «We have a new hit, so we’re leaving tomorrow in the morning.» Wrench made such a grimace in response, that he had to add, «It's not far from Chicago, so I think we’ll have time to go back before the midnight»

«Well, what else is wrong?» - He asked irritably, noticed Wrench still looking at him with a sour face.

- I was planning to make a chicken..

- Oh my god..

The next morning, they were walking briskly to the car. Numbers went to the trunk, to check if they took everything, but Wrench barred his way.

- What?

- There's your gift in the bag.

- I will not look in the bag

- No, I'll check it out.

- Yeah, whatever – said Numbers and climbed into the car.

The hit was really nothing in itself – another guy, who probably annoyed syndicate in some way. Tripoli loved to send them on lots of small shitty jobs, but Numbers was still glad - at least it was better than hanging around the house all day in the company of Wrench in horse head mask, hurring through the apartment, in order to create a festive atmosphere.

Quickly ended with the guy, they were having another problem – as there was no lake or river nearby, they decided to dismember a guy and expand a body in bags. And then it happened - Wrench, returning from the car, reported that they have no bags left.

- You said you'd check it out!

- I checked! How was I supposed to know that we have to carry a ton of garbage bags?

- Because you're a fucking hitman! When will you understand, that we should at least try to be ready for anything!

- Don’t you dare yelling at me when Christmas is coming! Besides, I have an idea - in fact, I had to buy a quite unusual package for your gift.

- What are you even..

- More like a canvas bag. But they were only sold in lots, so I had to buy six of them.

- Then why the hell are you still standing here? We’ll fix it with PE foil, then put in those bags and that’s it.

When finished, they loaded the bags in the trunk and went to look for the nearest dumpster. This time Numbers volunteered to throw all the bags, just to make sure his partner wouldn’t accidentally leave anything in the trunk.

- Is my gift marked somehow? - He asked, before he began.

- I pushed it into a corner, so you won’t be mistaken.

The evening was going surprisingly calmly – it looked like Wrench had been tired. The radio was playing a melancholy Christmas song, Christmas tree was sparkling brightly, and they were both sitting on the couch with glasses in their hands, and Wrench once again brought his horse head mask, leaving it on the coffee table.

- Can I ask you a question?

- Sure

- Why do you hate Christmas?

Numbers thought for a moment.

- Not that I hate Christmas .. my family never made a great event of it .. and then I left and spent most of the Eves with a bottle of whiskey and some shitty stuff on television. .. I just don’t understand the meaning of it, I guess.

- Well, it's a Christ birth..

- Oh no, don’t tell me all these church crap.. Dude, there are no miracles. Santa Claus does not exist. It’s you who brings me gifts, and I only believe in miracle when I wake up in the morning with no pain in the head or in the back or anywhere else.

- I think the point of it is unity. To all who have been at odds, or simply away from each other, it’s the only night they should reunite.

- Well, you are with me 24/7, so it’s not an argument!

Wrench gave him a scowl.

- I just hope you will be happy this night at least. Happier, than usual, I mean.

- Don’t you see my big smile? Oh, damn, I think I forgot it outside.

- Yeah, like your gratitude.

The clock struck midnight. They raised their glasses.

- Alright, the miracles have begun, old Klaus's in the city. – Numbers chuckled as pulled out of the couch a package - But we seem to have behaved not very well this year, so it's me who is going to give you a gift instead of Santa.

Wrench smiled and with a gleam in his eyes, he ripped packaging. There he found a warm scarf, gloves and a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, Wrench began to read carefully, then turned to his partner.

- What is it?

- You are going to the doctor in two weeks. Let's try to get you a hearing aid.

Wrench was speechless.

- You don’t have to do that, you know..

- Well, you can try. If you won’t like it, you don’t have to wear it. I was digging the information about this topic for the last few weeks and I should tell, you will need to train a lot, if you decide to wear it.

Then Wrench did what he wasn’t normally allowed to do - he gave a hug to his partner. Pulling out of the embrace, Numbers impatiently slapped his knees.

- And now where’s my gift?

- Wait here. - Wrench hurried into another room and immediately returned back with the bag.

Numbers reached to take it, but Wrench stopped him.

- I will put it right on the table. I want to see your face – he signed.

- As you say - Numbers rolled his eyes.

Pulling the rope, Wrench turned the bag and carefully shook it.

A bleeding head, wrapped in cellophane, fell out right on a coffee table. Both of them stared at it in silence.

- Well, merry fucking Christmas - signed Numbers, took a horse head mask lying next to him and put it on.

The radio continued to play: