Christmas Fanfic part 2 (gifT)

I should apparently pay more attention to the message titles! Anyway, here's part 2.

I'll be at my parents for a few days to celebrate Christmas, but the last part is already in the works and I hope to have it up around New Years.



Hunter knocked on the door and waited for it to be opened. He glanced around the
neighborhood at the decorated houses that seemed to contrast strongly with the one he
stood at. Lights outlined the majority of homes on this street and illuminated Santas
stood guard on a few lawns. McCall’s home sat in relative darkness. He was about to
knock again when the door was opened.

She was wearing the dark green sweater she had worn to work that day, but like
him had changed into more comfortable clothing. The smile on her face said she was
genuinely happy to see him and he impulsively bent down to kiss her on the cheek and
wish her a Merry Christmas. After inviting him in, she took the bottle of wine he had
brought and encouraged him to make himself at home while she went to pour them
both a glass.

She had lived here slightly more than six months, and other than the day her
helped her move, Hunter didn’t think he had been here for more than an few hours. He
recalled bringing a meal over once or twice, and picking her up or dropping her off a
few times. But that was it. She hadn’t been to his home any more often. It made him
long for the days when he knew exactly where to find the limited food her kitchen held,
when she’d make the coffee at his place because it was easier than getting him to do it.
Still not understanding the unease of their new relationship, he centered his attention
on her home.

It was much more her than the mansion she had lived in with Roger. He knew
that off of the living room was a small kitchen with a breakfast nook, and down the hall
on his left were the two bedrooms. The furniture was mostly new, and there was very
little he recognized, but it seemed to suit the smallish and cozy house.

He walked over to the mantle to look at the small number of pictures she had
placed there. He first saw a young version of her he had never known, sitting in front
of a tree with Steve, her arms wrapped around his neck. Next was the holiday family
photo she had enclosed in the card she had sent him years ago signed “with love, Dee
Dee, Alex, and Grace.” There was one of her standing by a decorated fireplace with
her parents that he guessed had been taken the year she returned from London. In the
final and most recent one, she was dressed in an elegant red dress, a glass of
champagne in one hand, chastely kissing Roger under what he assumed was mistletoe.
As his eyes scanned them, it began to dawn on him why she had agreed to work today.

“This is good stuff, Hunter.” She voiced her approval of his wine selection as she
crossed the room to hand him a glass. “You done good.”

“Well, I try,” he said modestly, unsure of whether he should comment on the
pictures he had been so obviously scrutinizing. “A toast?” he suggested instead. “To a
happy end to the holiday and no more singing elves.” He tilted his glass towards hers.

“I’ll drink to that.” She smiled briefly and clinked her glass with his. “I put on
some music, but if you’d rather find something on TV go ahead. Give me about five
more minutes and dinner will be ready.” He was able to entertain himself for half that
time before he ambled into the kitchen. Placemats, silverware and napkins were piled
in the middle of the small table and he began to arrange them. When she brought the
meal to the table they both sat down.

“You actually cooked this?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes, Hunter, I can cook,” she told him.

He took a bite and then nodded his approval. “You’ve definitely moved beyond
the four basic food groups.”

“Gee thanks,” she said sarcastically. They continued to eat and reminisce about
their years in Los Angeles, a safe topic that they both knew well.

“I have to say, this is a much better Christmas than that time you almost shot
me,” he teased.

“Hunter! You were sneaking around my house at one in the morning. What did
you expect?”

“I was delivering your present! I suppose you’d shoot Santa too,” he accused.

“I would not shoot Santa, and why you couldn’t just give me my present like a
normal person is beyond me!” Her fork, piled high with dessert, gestured at him
dramatically.

“I would have given you your present, but you left work early.”

She shook her head, knowing she was not going to win this argument. “Just for
the record, it was after nine when I left work, and you should know better than to
sneak around my house, any cop’s house, at strange hours of the night.”

“Notice that I didn’t get you a present this year.”

“I did notice that, thank you very much.” She sounded offended, but she was
smiling and for the first time Hunter thought that he recognized his partner sitting
across from him. This, he thought, is how it should have been all along. When they
had finished the meal she urged him to leave her in the kitchen for a few minutes to
clean up.

“I can help,” he offered.

“No, it’ll be much faster if I do it. Go in there,” she gestured at the living room.
“It won’t take long.” He obliged and wandered around the room again, listening to the
Christmas music that was still playing on the stereo. He had just gotten comfortable on
the couch when she entered the room with another glass of wine for each of them.

“Thank you,” he said politely, as she joined him on the couch. “This has been
really nice, McCall. Thanks for inviting me over tonight.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said nervously, setting the wine glasses on the coffee
table and rubbing her hands nervously long her thighs. “I did enjoy spending the day
with you,” she said sincerely, “but, I also have something I need to tell you. And I
don’t think you’re going to like it very much.”

He was instantly alert. He watched her collect herself and turn to face him
directly.

“Hunter, I’ve asked for a transfer. There’s another opening in juvenile. I applied
for it and the captain approved it. I asked him not to make it official until I told you
myself.” Her brown eyes stared at him warily, gauging his reaction. “Starting in two
weeks, I won’t be working in homicide anymore.”