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Teddy was tucked in, dreaming of sugarplums (or, more likely, dinosaurs), and Jack finally had the chance to sneak Santa’s present under the tree and nibble at the milk and Chocos. Opening the closet door as quietly as possible, he hoisted the heavy present up and tiptoed to the tree. It would be a lot easier if he could just push it over, but Teddy had the inquisitiveness of his granddad and the troublemaking nature of Jack—he’d climb out of bed in a second if he heard. Carefully setting the gift down, Jack took a moment to admire the tableau—which, he quickly realized, contained more gifts than there were before he put Teddy to bed.
The two extra presents were wrapped in stately paper in stark contrast with the elves in sunglasses on the rest of them. Crouching down, he checked the neat cursive tags: one for Teddy and one for Jack. No other names on them, but he had a hunch they weren’t from Santa.
Jack picked up his present, weighing it—too light for a journal, and it rattled when he shook it. He’d better open it now, he reasoned, fingers already pulling at the seams. Just in case.
It was a trio of claymation ViewMaster reels: The Night Before Christmas, A Christmas Carol, and Rankin-Bass’s Rudolph. Two of them he'd had as a child, vividly remembered sitting under the tree and excitedly clicking through scenes before he even moved the wrapping paper from his lap.
Behind him, a voice that clearly didn’t belong to Teddy tsked. "You’re early."
"Close enough," Jack said, turning as he stood to see the Shade leaning against the doorway, head bare and shirtsleeves rolled up. "Hey, Shade."
"Oh?" The Shade glanced to the hall behind them. "And if I informed Teddy of that?"
Jack pointed warningly. "Don’t you dare." He returned the Shade’s smirk with a grin. "Anyway, thanks. Here I thought you’d spontaneously combust if you touched anything made after 1920."
"Jack, I own an espresso machine."
"Hey. You know perfectly well that was invented before—"
"I did not bring an industrial espresso machine into my house."
"Bakelite?"
The Shade physically recoiled.
"Oh good, I know what to get you next year. Which do you like better, orange or baby blue?"
"I will bury it in the Shadowlands."
"Want to come over for dinner tomorrow?" Jack blurted out. "We’ve got plenty of food—Mik and Tony are coming over for dessert, but it’s just me and Teddy this year."
He sure wasn't in the mood to go into that. But Shade was enough of a gossip that he had to know—he hadn’t left a present for Sadie or Muggs, after all.
He missed her. He missed Dad, and David, and running into Charity or an O’Dare on the street, and snatching up a lot of vintage postcards before the asshole with the overpriced shop the block over got there.
He missed Opal.
"I’m not one for celebrations," the Shade said apologetically. Jack found himself fixating on his fingers, fiddling with his sleeve in a way that seemed awfully human. He’d started painting his nails black (or staining them with shadows, more likely). It worked with the Victorian look, somehow. Kind of punk.
Jack shrugged. "Yeah, I figured. Still…" He hesitated—what was he going to say? That he’s lonely? That he’s happy here, that Teddy’s his whole world, but when he thinks about visiting his friends in Opal it sometimes hurts so much it takes his breath away?
The Shade was watching him, an unreadable look on his face. Something almost gentle, especially for him. Pity?
No. Understanding.
Jack couldn’t help a sheepish smile, like he’d figured out something private, and the Shade’s mouth curved right back.
"I’ll admit…" The Shade ran his hand over his hair, a curl escaping from his meticulous coiffure. "I haven’t made plans."
"You know," Jack ventured, "Teddy’s never seen the Opal tree."
"It’s rather colorful this year," said the Shade, the word sounding like a grave insult.
He missed, he was surprised to realize, the Shade. And maybe that was just part of missing Opal, except it wasn't that uncomplicated. He missed him popping in at fuck-o-clock in the morning to hand him a journal. Writing about him so effusively it made Jack blush to read it. Sitting together on a rooftop, the wind stinging Jack’s cheeks as the Shade commented on their beloved city.
The arch quirk of his lips that every so often softened into something sincere when he met Jack’s eyes.
"I’m sure as hell not getting a flight there on Christmas Day. But you…" Jack made a gesture to indicate a shortcut through the Shadowlands.
"Are you fishing for another Christmas gift?"
"You know, giving presents is better than receiving."
"I hesitate to take this advice from the only one in this room who has not chosen a gift for the other."
"I’m giving you the pleasure of our company." Jack glanced around. "And some Chocos?"
"Your company will suffice," the Shade said, nose wrinkling.
"Besides, you’d better give this present to Teddy in person," Jack continued. "You know you’re supposed to put your name on them, right?"
The Shade sighed theatrically, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Be ready at one tomorrow—the carolers are scheduled for thirty minutes past. And dress Teddy warmly; the forecast calls for snow."
Jack stepped forward to give his arm a companionable squeeze. "See you tomorrow," he said, and some impulse made him add, "Richard."
The Shade blinked, eyebrows high, and he could swear he saw a spot of color on his cheeks. "Until then." He had that same look he’d had when he said goodbye to Jack, he realized. When the Shade’s hand had pressed warm against his, and he’d suddenly looked away, flustered, as if he’d only just realized how sentimental he was being.
It was kind of cute.
The Shade’s hand twitched up to tip the brim of the hat he wasn’t wearing, and he disappeared with a burst of shadow before Jack could make fun of him for it.
Jack closed his eyes, Christmas tree lights twinkling through his eyelids, letting the nervous anticipation settle in his chest.
Yeah. Okay. He had a few things to ask Mik about later.
But before then, he had some shopping to plan—he’s pretty sure he knows a place with an old Jay Garrick action figure. And might as well pick up some more supplies while he’s out—more paper plates, not-San-Francisco winter gear for Teddy, some decorations tacky enough to keep the Shade from getting too smug.
Hell, maybe some mistletoe.