Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They stood together on a marble ledge high above the world, watching the falling snow soften the city lights far below. 

"The System is quiet tonight," Neo remarked at last. 

Smith inclined his head. "It always is at this time of year." 

After a moment Neo nodded, then glanced down as he dug into the pocket of his cassock. "I have something for you." When Smith raised an eyebrow at the small paper bag Neo offered, the One added: "Spearmint leaves. Go ahead, try one." 

Warily, Smith complied, studying the green confection he'd pulled from the bag for a long moment — scanning its base matrix for any trace of harmful code — before taking a slow bite. Pausing. Chewing. Swallowing. "They are… not unpleasing." 

A small smile quirked Neo's mouth. "I thought you'd like them." 

"They would have made a poor choice of gift otherwise, wouldn't they?" The Opposite finished the first leaf and gave his companion a dark look, inserting long cold fingers into the bag again. "But, I have nothing to offer you in return." 

Neo shrugged. "I didn't expect you to. Besides," and his smile widened to startling radiance, "I've already got everything I need. Merry Christmas, Smith." 

This time the inclination of his head was a bow. "Merry Christmas, Mister Anderson." 

Beneath their shared gaze, the Matrix slept in a night both holy and silent.  

THE END

Chapter Text

"Mistletoe!" Peter yelled cheerfully from one step above, pointing at the hat he wore, then grabbed Egon by the shoulders and planted a slow, wet kiss right on his lips. 

Egon sighed under his breath. They were on the stairs, the mistletoe in question was indeed over both their heads, and it was Christmas. All the ritual prerequisites had been satisfied, including Peter being drunk enough that he was able to overcome his own inhibitions. 

It only happened once a year. Egon wasn't sure if he should regret that fact or count his blessings. 

THE END

Chapter Text

Bob almost fell off his zipboard after it glided into the car bay attached to his apartment, barely catching himself against the 262's side with a snort and a giggle. Too much ROM in his system. Definitely way too much ROM. But Phong had made the Clockshift punch himself, and evidently the old sprite believed that the stronger any drink was — cocoa, eggnog, what-have-you — the better. 

Drunk or not, Bob was in an excellent mood. The bright lights and merry carols of Clockshift always put him in a happy frame of mind, and the party at the Principle Office had involved half the System drinking, eating and laughing together — and exchanging gifts, most of them small and portable, including the geo gem pendant that Bob had given to Dot, ordered all the way from the Supercomputer. She'd beamed while he fastened the golden chain round her neck, admired the spark of crystallized with blue fire with obvious delight, and then kissed him — on the lips! — under the mistletoe, although she'd played coy and teasing afterwards. That alone would have been enough to send him soaring, quite apart from the alcohol currently coursing through his code… 

… and the combination had him so joyous that he almost floated into his bedroom, grinning like a loon, to flop down on his narrow bed and dream of that kiss again and again — 

— well, almost. Just in time he noticed the long box lying on his pillow, and managed to alter his course and collapse to one side of it rather than right on top of it. Sprawled across the powered-down mattress, he gaped at the unexpected present for a few nanoseconds, dumbfounded by its presence. Who the Dell —? 

It clearly was a present: the box was iridescent, the tasteful ribbon and bow that adorned it both beautiful and intricate. They were also in a set of colors he recognized instantly: indigo box, virulently green trappings. Megabyte? Megabyte had sent him a Clockshift gift? His core pulse surged in sudden alarm. 

"Glitch!" He brought his keytool to bear, rather unsteadily, on the mystery currently sharing his bed with him. "Scan!" 

A couple of chirps. A clear beep. Bob scowled. "No bomb? No poison gas? No malware?" 

Another beep, this one a little more emphatic. 

"No… anything?" 

This time the beep was exasperated. Bob sat up, regarding the package suspiciously. The package sat where it was, silently challenging him to deal with it somehow — personally, it didn't particularly care which method he chose. 

At last, with a sigh, he reached out and picked it up, putting it in his lap. The ribbon parted easily under his fingers and fell to the mattress beside him, then slid off the edge of the bed and slithered to the floor at his feet. He didn't notice the path it ended up taking because by then he'd lifted the lid on the box — and for a long span of nanoseconds he just stared, unable to believe his eyes. 

This gift hadn't come from the Supercomputer — it hailed from much further away, from legendary reaches of the Web where anything was possible. Ruby light glowed against the box's black velvet interior, a furl of exquisite petals manifesting the elegance of pure mathematics.  

"It can't be…" But it was, because when he reached into the box and picked up the flower gingerly by its emerald stem it began to softly sing in clear sweet harmonies determined by Bob's own matrix, its petals shimmering and transmuting themselves in patterns that expressed the essence of Bob's mind. "A Fibonacci rose! But —" 

But, indeed. This wasn't a gift that you gave to a casual acquaintance, or to your best friend — or to your most dedicated enemy. There was another melody in the voice that twined through Bob's apartment, imprinted into the artifact's substance by the only other person who had ever held it: a sly dark progression, harmonizing with Bob's lighter and swifter motif. This was a pledge of an entirely different kind. This was an unequivocal statement: I know you, Guardian… and, I desire to know you better. 

Much better. 

Enough to have spent a small fortune, anyway. Bob could have worked for three hours, saving every unit he made, and not had anywhere near enough to buy this kind of treasure. He stared at the rose, and the rose mirrored his own soul back at him — and something else, something far more significant and much more disturbing. 

When he left for Ghetty Prime a few microseconds later he took both the box and its contents with him, knowing that no other gift would be required — or accepted. 

THE END 

Chapter Text

He woke in the heart of a silent night, and for once the awareness of danger and death looming ever closer was not the first thought that crossed his mind. Instead he thought: It might be Christmas already, and a glance at the bedside digital clock confirmed that they were across the rim of midnight by an hour and twelve minutes. 

The world beyond this bedroom, the winter world where James Rosseau lurked and might well be plotting global Armageddon, seemed far away and unimportant. He couldn't think of it now, when he was wrapped in the soft heat of a luxurious bed and a slim body was draped over his left side, breathing warm living breath against his shoulder, blond hair sleep-rumpled atop the single pillow they shared. 

Even the simple act of looking down made Michael's heart beat faster. He drank in the vision of that face in the shadows, so gorgeous that it made him ache with mingled desire and love, a hymn that resonated across the whole spectrum of his being — mind, body and soul. His partner. His lover. His best friend in a world where he'd learned that trust was something only rarely earned, because so few were truly worthy.  

KITT, by design, had always been worthy on all counts. And now they had this, too. Even if it was only for a short span, even if it was the result of an evil genius's cold cruelty, even if they didn't survive the days soon to come… they'd been given this gift. One night of peace, and Michael was determined to cherish it. 

"Merry Christmas, Kitt." A tender kiss pressed to that smooth forehead, and a softer whisper: "I love you, baby." 

"I love you too, Michael," Kitt murmured, not even appearing to fully wake up as he snuggled even closer. Then, in a more peevish tone: "And don't call me 'baby'… not a child…" 

Smiling, he enfolded the slender body more tightly in his arms and murmured in return: "Sorry, big guy." Kitt mumbled something that might have been "That's better," and fell silent again. 

Michael closed his eyes and let himself drift on slowly deepening waves of contentment, the shared cadence of two hearts beating as one. They were alive. They were together. And for this priceless shining moment, that was more than enough. 

THE END