Work Text:
“Whatever you are doing right now… there has got to be an easier way of doing it.”
Negomi briefly turned away from attaching the command hook above the archway, looking down at her bestie-in-law with a grin. “Yeah, but it’s not nearly as fun.”
“Plus,” advised Nessa as she adjusted her grip on Negomi’s legs, “I feel like flexing on Aunt Claire.”
There is rarely if ever a time the Redfield home isn’t in some form of structured chaos: either Nessa’s younger siblings were running about making messes (as children often did) or Nessa herself was running about making messes (as Bates often claimed she did). It was almost as if “in chaos” was the house’s natural state, full of laughter and welcoming voices. Negomi was a new voice to this cacophonous choir, but she felt rightly in place regardless. It was her first holiday season as an unofficial Redfield, and thus the entire family had insisted she get to join them for all of the “fun parts” as Chris had called it. At first she’d been a little hesitant, but—
“Also, who left you in the fridge and let you get moldy?” Bates spoke up from somewhere below Negomi’s perch, a statement that was promptly followed by the sound of fabric jostling and an “ow!” as Nessa very maturely responded to this question by kicking him and stating she was festive, not moldy.
(The green streaks did look a little like mold colors, though. Negomi made a note to teach Nessa proper hair-dyeing technique next time.)
======
“All right! I hereby call this meeting of the Thirty-Fourthened Snack Platoon to order.”
“Thirty-whaten? Nessa, please, real words. Josh’s ten, he hasn’t learned how to translate from idiot to normal person yet.”
One of the many perks of St. Cichol’s season, Nessa explained, was the inevitable Baking of The Cookies. The Cookies were a longstanding tradition of the family, and Negomi had seen several members of Alpha Team get into fistfights over them. (Including Nessa, who presumably had access to them at request.) The Cookies in question had often been described as the platonic ideal of a chocolate chip cookie: dense with caramelized sugar, chewy in the middle, crisp at the edge, and loaded with more chocolate chips than what a normal human being would call sensible.
It was also the one thing Sybil Redfield could cook. Others using her same recipe never seemed to get them quite right, always something off in the taste or texture. Sybil herself claimed it was the use of a wooden spoon to mix the dough that made it work, but even that proved to be no help unless it was wielded by Nessa’s mother.
Thus these cookies held something of a legacy around the family and their nearest and dearest, and obtaining them was often a challenge. Though Sybil always made enough in the end… it became something of a game to try and get as many of them as you could to eat them yourself, and Negomi in previous years had been granted the much-desired position of “gets the spoon”. Accordingly, she had been tapped to assist a crack team of cookie thieves (Nessa, one of her little brothers, and a reluctant Bates) in the heist of the century.
Or at least of the current batch of cookies, which apparently were not pre-spoken-for and thus were anyone’s game. The three of them had assembled in Nessa’s basement bedroom, Bates lounging on Nessa’s bed, Joshua at Nessa’s PC watching Axl try to speedrun what looked like a fists-only playthrough of DOOM. And Nessa, sitting on the floor next to Negomi, had apparently appropriated a colander from the kitchen to be her helmet.
Which she was mildly salty about, given Nessa hadn’t thought to bring her a nice hat as well. (“On-site procurement”, she’d said. Ha!)
“Also, why thirty-four?” Bates continued, side-eying Nessa from the bed.
“There is strength in numbers, so bigger numbers are better,” Nessa said, folding her arms proudly and getting a pillow chucked at her in reward.
Negomi instead decided to refocus her attention on Tweeplr while Nessa talked. The social media sphere was buzzing already with holiday posts - Dr. Robotnik was doing a whole lecture series via Mewtube and Convulse on Kingdom-safe timespace displacement methods. The topic was beyond her but Nessa would probably be interested, so she dropped a like on the stream to remind herself to grab the VOD for her before scrolling by.
Next on the line, a video of Dante Sparda rolling down the street in a trashcan to the tune of Def March's "Sorry For Party Rockin'". Leo was in the background hand in hand with Gex, so she promptly retweeped that--
"-- the important thing is we can't get caught," Josh said somewhere to her right. "Because I wanna ask mom for a dog for St. Cichol's, and if she finds out, no way will Dad help me convince her."
"Absolutely," Nessa nodded, "this is a black op. All participation is disavowed by the collective!"
"Why would you want a dog when Negomi's right there?"
--and she promptly closed Tweeplr on sight of 1010 wearing reindeer heads trying to chase down Bass, wielding an elf costume and Rock Light with intent. It still felt strange to be part of all this, she had to admit - holidays with her moms were more subdued affairs. Colder, she supposed. Normally around this time of year she'd have been back at her own place taking work emails and arranging shoots or promotional Tin Pin matches... instead she was in her girlfriend's bedroom, listening to them try to plan around her mother's baking and how best to secure their ill-gotten baked goods. So far, the plan seemed to be once the spoon is in Negomi's possession, that is the signal except none of them could agree on what the signal would actually be signalling.
Their plan was doomed to failure anyway thanks to a text Negomi had sent five minutes ago between sips of bubble tea.
[txt to - mama sybil 🍪]
ur daughter, son and angry cat are planning a heist
do I get amnesty/first pick bc i snitched? lol
[txt to - puppy daughter-in-law]
only if you share with Axl. He beat you to it, lol!
======
The weather report was advising snow before the week was out, which meant adding lights to the house could not afford any delay and Chris was dead set on getting it done - except that the lights were in a storage tote on the top shelf of the garage. Normally, not a problem. Today, uniquely, a problem.
Fortunately after a chat with Negomi, he discovered an optimal solution that he could enlist his sister in...
"Why is Aunt Claire sitting on dad's shoulders?"
"Because apparently the five minutes it would take to get a ladder was too much," Sybil pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers with a sigh. "And he wonders where you get it..."
"That looks dangerous," Negomi commented in a way that likely would have gotten Bates to start yelling at her under any other conditions given it was her direct actions that inspired this.
"This is dangerous, so don't do it -- this. Do as pops says, not as pops does," Chris grunted and shifted Claire's weight on his shoulders. "Got it?"
A very cobweb-coated "yes!" echoed from the upper shelf, followed by a "Wait, how are we getting this out of my hands safely?" which was then chased with a Nessa shouting she'd climb up on a bench to take it and her mother shouting she'd do no such thing and finally was sent off with a comical series of crashes as Bates opened the garage door having realized Nessa was quiet for over five minutes again.
Nope, thought Negomi. Still not quite used to this yet. But I think I'm adapting.
======
Nessa's bathroom was surprisingly roomy and it was pissing Negomi off a little that her tub was so small. It had clearly been modeled on a Tokyo-To bathroom, so why go with a tub shower that could clearly not fit the rooms six-foot-fuck-you size inhabitant? Sure, it fit Negomi just fine, but Nessa being fine with it completely boggled her mind.
Touching up her eyeliner wasn't helping with this thought either. Nessa's mirror was way cleaner than hers usually was, sure, but liquid liner was SUCH a pain. Why did she insist on using it again? Was she really that against having a stick anywhere near her eyes--
"Hey, pretty pup, coming in."
And speaking of her girlfriend, there she was. Nessa poked her head into the room, eyes covered as if she hadn't seen Negomi's breasts in several more pleasing forms of somewhat dressed. "You pick what you're wearing yet? I'm having a struggle."
"Wearing? Shoot, did I forget a date?!" Negomi whirled, popping the liquid liner brush back into its container and setting it on the sink. "I'm so sorry--"
"Not a date, family photo. We take one every year." Nessa's eyes remained politely covered. "You're family too now, so you get to be in it. Do you have an outfit? No biggie if you don't, we can raid mom's closet. Oh, try to pick a red dress! I have a green suit--"
"I thought you said you were having issues with an outfit."
"I am! The issue being I had a nice dress and Bates, yet again, looks better than I do in it so he gets it. So we're trading outfits and you're gonna help me raid mom's closet, c'mon!"
Negomi didn't protest being dragged up to the top floor and into Sybil's closet to hunt down a dress - nor did she protest when Sybil herself offered to help her pick one, selecting a pretty white cocktail dress.
"For good luck," she winked.
Negomi pretended not to get what she was hinting at and accepted the dress - a dress that definitely met Nessa's approval, given the wolf-whistle as she walked out and the scolding she got from her mother.
...It did kind of feel nice, even if it wasn't fully real or normal to her just yet.
======
"Wow. He really does look better than you in that."
"See?! I told you!!"
======
Midnight, St. Cichol's Eve, felt like a golden hour in half drowsy sips of cocoa while a certain prickly bestie snored between them on the couch.
Tradition, Nessa had said, between her and her younger siblings. They would stay up in shifts and watch for the saint and his wyvern, just in case he mistakenly declared one naughty and they needed their case plead to the jolly holy man himself. Nessa had always taken the last shift, as she was the eldest and thus knew St. Cichol wasn't real in the way the city claimed he was. (Though there WERE presents under the tree that were from him. Mysteriously. Nessa stopped questioning it after he brought her a new motherboard as her parents barely understood the difference between a GPU and a processor...)
Thus this year she roped Negomi and Bates into it and Bates had decided fuck that, put down his "bitch is sleeping" eyemask and said Jingle could wake him with an arrest warrant. Leaving Negomi and Nessa semi-sleep deprived and giggling over cocoa to "keep watch".
"No. No, absolutely not."
"I'm serious! Negomi, he has the Blue Eyes White Jet, Cichol has a wyvern that clears the entire city AND Kingdom in a night..." Nessa paused for dramatic effect. "Seto Kaiba is Cichol. That's why his duel disk is so big, it's full of holiday cheer! And manifestos on why Yugi needs to duel him."
Negomi had no good response, giggling with her head in Nessa's lap. Not that she needed much of one. The living room was already quite cozy with all the lights from the tree and the remaining house lights dark, falling asleep would be easy.
Did you ever think it would be this easy?
Truthfully, no, Nessa hadn't. Most of her pre-adoption memories weren't worth going into, but she remembered how much she hated bedtime back "then". Walls too dark, enough to swallow little girls whole. A bed that felt more like a cotton abyss she'd never crawl out of. More stars, admittedly, but back then she barely saw them either. (It always baffled her, that family hated her so much why wouldn't they let her go and get potentially eaten by a wolf because she had to see the stars?) If anyone asked that lonely 8 year old, she'd rapidly shake her head and inform you she knew anything more than basics was kindness, and she couldn't expect kindness, it was something other people deserved.
(The first of many lessons her parents had to unteach her to make her less of a ghost with their name and more of a child they were raising.)
The Nessa who'd had time still didn't believe it either - she laughed more, smiled more, but there was still too much of a brick wall between her emotions and the larger world. And that was for the best, despite Piers' feelings on the matter, it was for the best and--
"Maybe if we spend enough time together, you can add a little doggy door for me?"
And Nessa said "Maybe. It might take a few tries." when she really meant "I have no idea. I don't know what not being scared looks like yet."
And yet here she was, moving a few stray loops of hair away from a barely lucid Negomi's eyes, surprised at just how comfortable she felt. Maybe it was just Negomi being Negomi and thus easy to love, or maybe...
Maybe it had just silently gotten better when she wasn't looking. And while she wasn't entirely sure what to do about that... she was sure that she'd like to stay here like this for a few more years. At least. A few forevers sounded better, she decided after Bates grunted and flailed his arm over their shoulders to drag them BOTH closer.
Yeah, she thought as she began to drift. A few more forevers sounds about right.