Hi everyone!

I'm in a real Christmas-y mood, for some reason. Except my fluff fics always seem so dark and stuff…

Don't forget to take the "present vs past tense in writing" poll on my profile! pleaaaaseeeeee!

Enjoy!

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Desmond's greatest fear has always been that Shaun already knows. For all the effort he puts into hiding it, he wouldn't be particularly surprised if Shaun knows everything anyways. Shaun is brilliant. Desmond is transparent. He hates banking on Shaun's apathy towards him, as a reassurance that he hasn't been found out. Even now, as Shaun works at his laptop and doesn't look at him, Desmond keeps getting the haunting suspicion that he's transparent to Shaun. It's as comforting as devastating that, a lot of the time, Shaun seems to look right through him.

"What in the world are you doing?" Desmond whips around at Shaun's voice, but he's looking at Rebecca. Jealousy spikes through Desmond, but, admittedly, Rebecca is doing something far more out of the ordinary. Desmond has been lying on the couch, staring at the sleet hitting the windows, and Rebecca is teetering on top of a ladder, a string of lights in hand.

"Decorating for Christmas. What else?" Rebecca attaches another hook to the wall, and suspends the light strand along it, "I found these hooks that stick to the wall, they work perfectly."

"Lights go on the outside of a house," Desmond points out, sitting up to watch. Rebecca rolls her eyes at him.

"You want to go outside in this hailstorm, be my guest. Besides, this is supposed to be a warehouse, not a secret assassin bed and breakfast."

"This is a bed and breakfast? Since when?" Desmond protests, "because I so haven't been getting served breakfast. I deserve my money back."

"You may have to accept the fact that the manager just doesn't like you," Shaun replies, and Desmond hears him start typing again, "no surprise that we never get any work done around here," Shaun mutters under his breath.

"Shouldn't we get a tree, too?" Desmond says, just because he knows it'll irk Shaun. Shaun doesn't appear to have even heard him. Rebecca, though, turns and beams at him.

"That's the spirit! You know, Desmond, I think you're my favourite."

"I thought parents didn't pick favourites," Lucy's voice comes from the doorway. She inspects the room, amusement in her blue eyes.

"You said I'm your favourite when I moved the couch into this room," Desmond points out, and Lucy laughs.

"Siblings pick favourites all the time."

"So I guess the real question is whether you consider me your older, wiser, helpful brother, or-"

"My immature, never-learns-his-lesson, has-to-be-babysat little brother," Lucy finishes, smirking. "And speaking of, I'm making you pay the electric bill if you leave all the lights on in your room again."

"What am I supposed to pay it with? The secret assassins don't pay me, and Abstergo doesn't exactly have me on a payroll either. You're just asking me to go rob a bank, aren't you?"

"I think it'd teach you to conserve electricity." Lucy watches Rebecca continue to hang up lights for a moment. "We really do need a tree."

"There'd really be no point to that," Shaun contributes from his desk.

"Of course there is! Decoration, and a place to put presents!" Rebecca makes a face at him, but Shaun has already turned back to his computer. Desmond sprawls back on the couch, staring up at the string of red and green lights. Images float through his mind, as enticing as they are ridiculous: Shaun asking what do you want for Christmas, as if he doesn't know the answer is you, just you; Christmas morning, guess what I got you Desmond, and hope, so much hope, and then Shaun saying, me. The idea of bows and a lack of clothing is there too, but Desmond halts his meandering thoughts before he can get into that too deeply. Hope is as painful as it is pointless.

"Anyone want to come?" Lucy is asking, and Desmond just blinks at her, having missed the entire conversation. "The store," she supplies, "for groceries. Seeing as we have nothing. As usual. Yes?"

"Uh, sure." Desmond casts a glance at Shaun, then Rebecca as an afterthought, "anyone else want to come?"

"I'm gonna stay and decorate more," Rebecca answers, now hunting around for more hooks in a box, "but pick me up popcorn."

"Please tell me you're not going to try and thread it all together," Lucy says, and Desmond rolls his eyes.

"Man, that takes forever. And you can't eat it!"

"You guys think I have the attention span for that? As if! Get the really buttery kind, would you?" Lucy turns back to her hunting, and Desmond looks to Shaun.

"Coming?" he asks, a stupid question. Shaun just shakes his head no.

Grocery shopping with Lucy is effortless, if less than interesting. She, like Rebecca, fills up silences with words, in a way that Desmond can't imagine Shaun ever lowering himself to do. It's like giving a gift to the silent listener, something Shaun would never do. He leaves that to Desmond, who babbles to fill up silences between them, makes him feel pathetic and desperate, and Desmond never wants to ask himself if that's Shaun's intention, used as a way to push Desmond away.

"I just love this time of year," Lucy is saying, studying the shelves of wheat bread. "All the Christmas decorations, everyone wishing each other well, it's all so nice."

"Yeah," Desmond says without thinking, "used to be my favourite holiday."

Lucy glances sideways at him, and he sees the curiosity on her face. "Are you going to visit your family?" Desmond shakes his head no.

"Haven't been home for Christmas since I moved out."

"Why not?" Lucy asks, pushing for more information. Desmond stares determinedly at the shelves before them.

"My dad isn't speaking to me anymore," Desmond says, and Lucy doesn't ask. No one ever does, because they assume the worst, because Desmond hasn't figured out a way to tell them that will get anyone to ask. He hates that this is always why he never admits anything, but this is what it always comes down to. Desmond always tells himself he'll confess when he's asked, but it's waiting for something that will never come.

Lucy is looking away and not asking for details, and Desmond can practically see all the things that will fall apart. His life has always been like this, the kind of waiting that's more like watching something that's always about to explode, waiting for the moment when he can think that's it, it's finally over, there's nothing left to wait for.

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Hope everyone liked that!

Please reviewwww :)

Love ya,

Sunshine