"Wake up! It's Christmas! Come on, sleepy-heads, time's a wasting! Presents, food, coffe, all in the parlor!" Bobby's voice was far too chipper for five in the morning. Remy buried his head under the pillow. the lingering heat from his lovers' bodies was mostly gone after an our. The alluring scent of coffee reached his nose.
"Come on, kiddo, coffee's just the way ya like," Logan coaxed. He sounded almost sulky under it. That made Remy peer out.
"Merci," he said, sitting up to take the mug. he shivered. "What's wrong, cher? Scotty won't play?"
"Locked himself up in his office and won't let me in."
"Po' cher," Remy said, stroking one of Logan's sideburns. Logan turned into the touch.
"He won't even tell me why he's locked himself in on Christmas mornin'."
Remy shook his head. "Business wit' Cable I expect. Lemme get some clothes and we head down. I got a sweater 'round here?"
"Ya got what you were wearin' last night. The rest's waitin' in yer room to be put away. You gonna actually move in here one day?"
"I don't know. I got you t' fetch clothes for me."
Logan looked down at his lover. "Will you be serious?"
"Too early in the mornin' for this, cher. But we'll talk. I promise." Remy kissed Logan gently on the lips.
"Time for presents. Everybody get your butts up!"
"T'ink Scotty'll let me smack Bobby 'round a bit? It's 5 AM!"
"Darlin', how often is this house up by five?"
"Most days," Remy admitted, reluctantly. He took a sip of coffee. "Chickory!"
Logan grinned. "Merry Christmas."
Remy smiled at him, then got dressed.
****
The parlor was full. There were no flights out due to snow, so ever Hank had cancelled his plans to go home. Charles looked around at his children and smiled. He was glad to see them all happy. He had a moment's regret that Rogue would be celebrating Christmas in Scotland, but that was for the best as well.
Remy was curled up between Logan's legs with a mug. Scott was leaning against Logan's side, fingers tangled in Remy's bangs. Charles wasn't sure what to make of the relationship yet. It was hard to tell which of the younger men had won the fight. Scott had a split lip and Remy had a lovely shiner around his left eye. To someone who didn't know any better they probably looked like the domestic victims of Logan's fists. Charles, however, had a spy who'd told him the whole story.
Speaking of his spy, Jean was lounging on the floor next to the primly seated Ororo. Hank was sitting on the floor as far from the fireplace as possible. Warren and Betsy had taken the window seat and were curled up together in a lover's embrace. Bobby was crawling under the tree to find all of the presents to pass out. His Spiderman pajamas were a shade of blue flannel that clashed evilly with his red Santa hat.
Soon enough everyone had their own pile of presents. By tradition, the Professor opened his gifts first. Then, the rest of the team opened their gifts according to age from eldest to youngest. Basically it was a manner of torture for Bobby that Scott had devised. It was only mildly sadistic, so Charles never corrected the behavior. Today, Remy would be the youngest. Charles wondered how he would react to the prolonged wait. The professor carefully chose his first present. He opened it along the taped edges, sparing the peper as much as he could.
****
Bobby bit his lip. The professor was obviously developing his sadistic tendencies. It was bad enough that they had to wait for him to work through his pile. Did the man have to be slow about it? Bobby couldn't even bitch that Scott had created the rule so he'd be second in line. Warren had Scott beat by seven months and Hank beat both of them.
Look at Scott! He's just sitting there, petting the fucking Cajun like a cat. Doesn't he car that I'm dying here? Bobby sighed and leaned back as the professor finally finished opening the CD.
"Thank you, Jean. How ever did you guess?" The professor's eyes were twinkling.
Jean laughed. "Well, I think the drooling whenever she was on-screen gave you away."
"I do not drool." The professor continued with his pile. He raised a brow at the origami work on the next present. "I think this is too lovely to open, Logan."
The Canadian shrugged. "Just paper."
The package revealed a book of poetry. Betsy and Warren had found a Picasso print with a perfect province for him. Storm offered a subscription to a new mutant psychology journal. Bobby had found a DVD set of *Star Trek: Next Generation* and Hank followed it up with a Picard action figure with accessories. Remy had created a small watercolor of Lilandra that spoke to her avian ancestry in the frame of feathers. Scott gave him a pocket-watch on a gold chain with a small card telling him that it was for "timing your lectures." And then, it was Logan's turn.
****
Logan grumbled under his breath as he picked up the first present. He didn't really want to know what the icecube had found for him, but he had to find out what was in the oddly lumpy package. He laughed outright at the stuffed goose with a hockey stick. Storm gave him a new pot for his bonsai. Warren and Betsy - starting an art theme - had found a simple calligraphy of "compassion."
Remy leaned his head against the inside of Logan's thigh. He settled back, eyes closed. The Canadian smirked down at him. He plucked the next present from the pile. It was from Jean and Charles. He opened it carefully. He blinked at the folders in his hand. The note made him smile. "Three tickets to anywhere and back. Just let us know and we'll drug Scott for the plane. For anywhere from a week to a month."
Scott moved suddenly, jerking Logan's attention to the flying wad of wrapping paper that caught Jean in the forehead. "Wench," Scott informed her.
"Thanks, Jeannie. I'll give ya a weeks notice. Got the place in mind."
"Where?" Scott asked.
Logan smirked, but didn't answer.
"Fine, but remember, I know where you sleep."
"Wouldn't mind you bein' there more often." Logan leered.
The field leader couldn't seem to find an answering taunt. He shook his head and settled back against Logan's side. "Open Hank's. He's been taunting me for weeks about his present for you."
"I have not been taunting you, Fearless. I have merely pointed out that I, through superior reasoning and application of my prodigious wit, have endeavored to find the perfect gift for our Canadian compatriot."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Children," Charles interrupted firmly, "you do this every year and I do not wish to repeat myself again. Christmas is a time for giving, not for fighting."
"You forgot to time yourself, sir," Scott told him. "Besides, it's a tradition, by your own admission. We do it every year. This year Logan's the lucky winner. So open the package already."
"Nah. Hand me the one from Scott, Darlin'."
Remy blinked up at him. He smiled lazily. "Gonna make it worth my while, cher?"
"I'll make more coffee fer ya while these folks open presents. Figure I got an hour before we get to yer presents."
"Bien." Remy handed Scott's package up carefully. He was intrigued now.
Logan's nostrils flared. He knew that smell. He grinned and skinned off the paper with a claw. "How'd you manage to get Cubans?"
"I know a guy, who knows a guy. Just make sure you smoke away the evidence."
"Scott Patrick!" Charles snapped. "We discussed black-market purchases when you were sixteen!"
"One word, sir, Blackbird."
Charles had no response to that. Remy handed up Hank's present. Logan opened it carefully. "Thanks, Hank."
"What is it den, cher?"
"A tab at Harry's."
"I'll conceded the win," Scott stated.
Remy handed up the last package. Logan's brows rose as he recognized the wrapping as a silk obi. He untied it carefully to reveal a small book. He opened it and froze. Mariko stared back at him as lifelike as a video clip. Each page held another perfect portrait - Jean, Yukio, Jubilee, Silver Fox, Kitty, and blanks for more. The final page was a quote: "We live as long as someone remembers us."
"Thanks, Darlin'."
Remy shrugged without looking up. "Ain't much."
"Got a request fer ya."
"Oui?"
"Add yerself and Scott to the line-up?"
"Bien. Later."
"May I?" Betsy asked coming from the window-seat.
"Sure." Logan gave her the book reverently. She sat down on Warren's lap to look at it. Remy leaned back to look up at his lover. He held up his empty coffee mug. Logan chuckled and went to make another chickory-laced cup.
****
"You have him well-trained," Jean laughed.
"He offered," Remy responded. "Besides, y'all won't drink chickory." He settled into a mock-pout.
"I want to see it too," Jean told Betsy.
"That's f' Logan t' decide, femme."
"Did you do these?" Betsy asked, ignoring that.
"Oui." Remy picked at the fraying hole at the knee of his jeans.
"Do you take commissions?"
"Non."
Betsy raised a brow at the vehemence of his refusal. "Too bad. I could get you a lot of work."
The thief shrugged. "Don't need it. Don't want it. Ain't someone supposed t' be opening presents?"
****
"That would be me, my friend. You are correct. No matter how much we wish to torture Robert, I should begin my pile."
"Torture Robert?" Remy queried.
"Forget it," Hank said with a toothy grin at his best friend. Bobby threw a snowball at him.
"No snowballs in the house," Charles chided.
Hank selected Jean's package first. He opened it with surprising delicacy for his size. He revealed the CD with a frown. It was marked in Latin. He smiled a moment later. "Thank you, Red."
"What is it?" Bobby asked.
"A rather obscure medical text which may have the first documentation of mutation in the human species." Hank selected the next package. The one from Remy. He opened the velvet-lined box. "Are these what I think?"
"Industrial grade," Remy confirmed.
"And perfectly sized. Merci." Hank snapped the lid shut. "Might I inquire about the possibility of other equipment form your source?"
"Talk t' me tomorrow, cher."
Hank nodded. Warren and Betsy had found stuffed pathogens and a poster for easy reference for the lab. They'd need a special mount for it if he wanted to put it over his desk. Hank was content to let Scott worry about that. He unwrapped the professor's gift to reveal two new subscriptions. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome, Henry."
Hank picked up a perfectly wrapped package. The delicate folded crane told him it was from Logan. He opened it carefully, trying to preserve the crane for his Christmas origami collection. The framed haiku was translated on the back in Logan's block script. "Thank you." Logan nodded. He was stroking Remy's hair now, and seemed content to do just that.
Scott had gotten him a new coffee-maker and grinder engraved with explicit script "For Coffee Only." Hank chuckled. "I predict that this will not last long."
"You may be surprised, Hank. If you use it only for its assigned purpose, it will last a lot longer," Scott stated. "That's why it's engraved."
"Where's the fun in that?" Hank's grin widened. He picked up Storm's present. The certificate explained that 10 acres of prairie-land had been preserved for him. "Thank you," he said, touched. He'd watched developments swallowing the open-spaces he'd enjoyed as a child. Bobby's present he saved for last. He checked it carefully for bobby-traps.
"Come on, Blue, would I do something on Christmas?"
"Yes," the other original team-members chimed.
"Once! I did something once and I'm branded for life."
"Your reputation is well-established, Bobby. No use protesting it now." Hank patted him on the head.
"Quit stalling, Hankster. It's unbecoming."
Hank opened the box. He blinked.
"Good for ten movies with goodies," Bobby informed him.
"Thank you."
"And now it's Warren's turn. Get a move on it Wings."
"Patience, Bobby. Patience."
****
Warren stretched. He took his time selecting a present form his pile. Finally, he picked up the one from Bobby. As usual it was a year's subscription to _The_Wall_Street_Journal_. "Thanks, Icecube."
"Next year, it'll be _Playgirl_," Bobby grinned. "Don't worry, Bets. I'll date you when Warren finally comes out."
"Make it the _Villiage_Voice_ so we can all use it," Scott said.
"Shut it, Slim, or I'll stall even more." Warren knew that Scott was just as eager to unwrap his presents as Bobby. He just hid it better. Scott crossed his arms and frowned. Warren smiled at him. He picked over the pile until he found the one from Gambit. It was heavy. He opened it, not sure what the thief would get him. He pulled out the binder that stated "Worthington Industries Security Review and Recommendations." He scanned the first few pages. "Where did you get these blueprints?"
"Read the recommendations t' find out," Remy grinned at him.
"I will. Thanks."
"Pas de problem."
Logan's package was next, a neatly folded angel on it. "I always hate unwrapping your presents. I think I should keep all of the paper."
"Just paper." Logan snorted. "Rip it."
Warren worked carefully, saving his angel. He opened the book of poems. "Thank you."
"Welcome." Logan was moving so that he could put an arm around Scott's waist. Warren laughed to himself. Logan was in for a ride. He'd watched Scott with Jean. Hell, he'd competed with Scott for her. Scott was just starting to get playful. It was fascinating to watch him transform from Cyclops back to the Scott who'd once been his best friend.
"Read it later," Bobby ordered.
"Patience is a virtue."
Bobby sighed melodramatically. Warren selected Jean's package next.
TBC