CHRISTMAS WAS SUCH A STRANGE HOLIDAY.

People hung up flashing lights and gaudy decorations to celebrate something I had not yet figured out; I assumed it was really just to support the government and the sales that would come from buying stupid presents for hopeful children, but I didn't say anything. I didn't dare; people were so protective of the holiday, I feared my death if one peep was made; all my training at the Academy would not protect me from the holiday rage.

Still, as the snow fell and made slush that stuck to my shoes, making them slightly soggy, I did not see any appeal whatsoever. Why would someone wish to bring a tree indoors and cover it with a million fire hazards? Why would they cook a feast of barely edible foods that no one would end up eating - aside from the potatoes - and would rot in the back of the refrigerator for weeks? Why would they cover boxes in tacky garbage referred to as 'wrapping paper' and give that away - what would little Jenny do with a doll? The entire family could have been kept fed for a month yet that money was wasted on brief slivers of happiness.

I chuckled bitterly and tucked my head deeper into the worn hood, cringing silently as the liquid tormentors fell on my skin. I had always hated snow, but to see it celebrated so profusely here - it was absurd. Snow wasn't fun, or beautiful; it was simply frozen water that was easily stained with anything and served with a side of annoyance and soaked clothing.

My hand jutted out from the warm pockets of my coat and I stared blankly at the present that had wasted half of my day; I regretted purchasing it, and wouldn't have it wasn't for a certain person and for a certain reason. He was so excited for the holiday, I didn't dare share my feelings with him - that often - and tried my hardest to appease him with manufactured joy.

I rubbed my boots off on the doormat situated just outside their apartment and rapped three times on the wood; thump, thump, thump, alerting the inhabitants that I was there and nearly frozen solid. I could already feel my nose dripping and knew it was bright red like the ridiculous reindeer who got an entire song made about him - Reginald or something, or other.

"Emily, hi," cried Aunt May's sharp voice, always laughing out a familiar smile and welcoming me in. "You look lovely."

Why was it that people always felt the need to express how 'lovely' someone looked near a holiday? The sweater that donned my torso had been worn a thousand times, yet she only noticed it then - why? Americans were such strange creatures; even months and months after spending time with them, I did not understand their customs.

I nodded and mumbled a 'thank you' as I stood awkwardly in the room, waiting impatiently for Peter to come out. He had told me that I needed to 'experience Christmas properly' and so, with much reluctance, I had agreed; there was no doubt in me that I would hate it, but I would do it for him. The chance to see the little light in his eyes was enough for me to endure his torment.

"Hi."

"Hi," I whispered back, a small smile licking my lips. "Are you ready?"

Peter nodded, and after waiting a quick second for him to ask May about something, we were off and out the door, hurrying off to the 'adventure' he had planned.

"So, what exactly is this surprise? The suspense is killing me."

His cheeks flushed, but I couldn't be sure if that was from my teasing comment or the bitter cold that nipped at any exposed skin. "It's a secret, Emily; if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, would it?"

"That doesn't mean you cannot, though."

"Doesn't it?"

The banter carried on between us as we walked; both of our voices were snippy and loud, carrying through the cold wind, but there was nothing but mutual happiness between us. I didn't want to do these Christmas activities, per se, but being with him would always make me smile.

Eventually, our walk ended as we neared large crowds and the air became crisper and colder; screams and laughter echoed all around us, and scrapes of metal against an unknown substance sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't make out where we were, not just yet, but it wasn't making me very excited.

"Come on!" he yelled over the noise, dragging me along towards the noise, "come on!"

This didn't seem to have any way of ending well.

Peter led me through and to a man, who after exchanging words I couldn't make out over the shrieks and tiny children making too much noise, handed him two sets of shoes with blades on the ends and two slips of paper. He gave me a smile too, but I didn't bother changing my glare.

I stared at the large area the room opened up into; all around me was ice, with duos and trios and groups of people sliding across it with the same pairs of blades on their feet as what we were given. Some were struggling to even stand, while others spun through the air as though they were primadonnas; they must have known the ice for years, by the looks of it. Everyone seemed to be so happy in the cold, yet I couldn't understand why; it was just ice, and it was dangerous. Why would this be fun?

Peter still pulled me along, this time needing more force than before, and we took our places on a long bench that overlooked the event. He handed over one pair of blade-shoes with a smile, "do you know how to put them on?"

"Of course I do." I had never seen these monstrous devices in my life and had no inkling of a thought on how to work them, but I couldn't tell him I couldn't put on shoes - that would be ridiculous. "They're just boots."

It took me five minutes to his sixty seconds, a statistic I didn't appreciate but tried to ignore. Peter didn't gloat; he simply watched and at one point helped my nearly-frozen fingers lace up the strings that tightened around my ankles. After the blade-shoes were strapped to me and my death was set in stone - again - he got up and balanced precariously on the weapons.

"Come on!"

"Come on, what?"

Peter's laughed echoed through the entire square - the Pavilion, it was called - and he slid towards me so his hands were just inches away from my own. "Here, let me help you."

"But I-"

"-just trust me, okay?"

I did trust him, I wanted to say, there was just no belief of support that would go into the knives on my feet. However, after a long pause and deep breaths of panic, I reached out to seize his hands and slowly pull myself up to stand beside him.

"There, look at you! Pro skater already!"

I took a shaky breath and glanced up, still not daring to release his hands. "You're making fun of me now, aren't you?"

He shook his head and drifted slowly, pulling me along with him - leaving me panicked and holding on for dear life as if we were going a hundred miles a minute. "I'm not making fun of you, I'm encouraging you. See, look? You're already getting the hang of it."

"The hang of what? Being petrified?"

"No, standing - though I guess the latter is important, too."

My laugh came out more panicked then joyful, but I hardly noticed; all my thoughts were on the blade-shoes sending me closer and closer to death and how any second, I could fall. This didn't seem fun at all, but more like a dangerous game with no good ending. Few things scared me, but this was slowly but surely taking the cake.

Peter seemed to sense my fear, as he pulled me closer to him and held onto my shaking body carefully. "You're not going to fall."

"You don't know that!"

"Of course I do! I'm Spiderman!"

That time, when I laughed, it was more genuine then the scared giggles that didn't match me at all. "Your logic is awful and I can't take you seriously - and you making me laugh is going to get me killed!"

He just held me closer and guided me around, his laugh sweet, albeit slightly taunting, music in my ears. Once I had gotten the hang of it, it wasn't half bad - I would not want to go halfway around the city just to put the blade-shoes on and slide around the ice again, but I didn't hate doing it. Maybe it was my teacher who never let go for a second or the Christmas songs that were both irritating and enchanting, but I did enjoy myself.

After a while, we skated to the side and slid off our bladed shoes, hurrying out of the rink with red noses and bright smiles as though we were five-year-olds running towards silly dreams once more. He held my hand and I didn't let go and we raced away, through the streets of New York and pushing past strangers with boxes heaped in their arms and glares staining their faces.

Our childish race ended in a tiny coffee shop, as Peter told me the bus wouldn't come for a long while and we had to wait and do something while we waited. I simply agreed, but I was glad, for the place was decked out in elegant Christmas attire, with gold and white ornaments everywhere and warm lights scattered about. It was strangely beautiful.

My hands wrapped around the cup and I smiled as they immediately warmed; hot chocolate was not a delicacy I had ever even considered, but after one taste, I was hooked and apparently, so was Peter. Of all the holiday traditions Americans revelled in, chocolate in the form of a hot drink was definitely my favourite.

"I, um, got you something." I had almost forgotten about the gift in my pocket. "It's not much."

He, too, reached down but his was smaller and slimmer, a carefully packaged box opposed to my simple container. I almost doubted giving him the contents; they were things I would want, but would that translate to him? Presents weren't things I gave often - or ever - and I had never thought of things in the way others would.

Peter tore off the messy bow and hurriedly lifted the lid, immediately grinning at the contents in a look that seemed to be both curiosity, wonder and another I couldn't read. He lifted the first thing, "batteries?"

"People apparently, um...need them a lot."

"Bandages?"

"You can't always call me to help you, I guess."

"Headphones?"

"You break yours a lot - or lose them, depending on the circumstance."

"Crazy hardcore...glue?"

"People need a little glue sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow at the next package, raising the bright colours so I could read before lifting the others. "You bought me a whole lotta chocolate bars?"

"America has really good chocolate," I shrugged. "I thought it was okay."

He just smiled and continued on the 'unpacking, lifting everything up with a cry of surprisingly joyful surprise and adding a comment for each. They weren't malicious in any way; actually, he sounded as though he enjoyed the gifts, a reaction I didn't expect from him. I supposed that was a good thing. Just...surprising.

Peter lifted the last thing and raised his eyebrows in confusion, turning over the sleek device carefully. "A USB?"

"It seems everyone needs them a lot here. You can hold your projects and such on it, right?"

I liked how confused and let down he looked - not because I enjoyed seeing him anything but happy, but because it meant my secret surprise left on the USB hadn't even crossed his mind. That at least would be something more personal to him - to us, if there was an 'us'. I wasn't really sure what us there could be.

Soon after he had opened everything, we left, my box under his arm and his unwrapped present clenched tightly in my pocket. I had not opened it, but strangely when I asked if I should he suggested for us to leave and take a walk - I didn't understand his hesitation towards my offer, but didn't fight it. I'd get the chance later, it wasn't a big deal.

We walked side by side down the snowy street, amidst the staggered crowds, each person rushing off to do one thing or the other. It seemed like we were the only ones not hurrying to place a or b; amongst the chaos, we took our time and drank in the joyful air that had sunken over everyone, even me. I wouldn't admit it, not for a thousand years but I did enjoy myself.

"I wish I could whip out mistletoe, you know..." his sentence mumbled off awkwardly as he seemed to regret it, though his reference flew right over my head. "Nevermind."

"I have no idea what that is or why you would want to 'whip it out'."

He shrugged and laughed awkwardly, almost as though he was trying to fill the silence somehow. "It was just a joke, a stupid Christmas tradition."

"What kind?"

"Uh..." once again, Peter hesitated and while he almost answered me properly, he seemed to change his mind at the last minute. "It's just a joke, like pranking people with fake holly. You show them that and...it's funny?"

I didn't see the humour in the joke he attempted to make, but perhaps that was simply because I wasn't totally accustomed to the strange idea of American humour, not yet. Still, I didn't like how his face fell after the failed joke and felt almost responsible for the decrease in the mood. 

Lifting myself off the bench we sat, I carefully placed the present down and spun in the falling snow, pausing to grin at him. Something about the moment felt so right, whether it be the caffeine running through my blood or the cold nipping at any patch of skin, or the way everything seemed to sparkle in the dim light. I wouldn't think this would make me happy, but in the moment, I couldn't help but adore the way everything fell into place perfectly. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Peter lifted his head to smile back at me, the rosy flush on his cheeks growing to spread across his pale face. "I thought you weren't a fan of Christmas?"

"I'm not," was my soft reply, tugging him up and into the flakes falling around us, "but something about today...it made me hate it a bit less. No, actually, not something; someone."

We were so close, I could count the snowflakes that had already fallen into his hair and slid across his face, and in the dim light, he looked as though he was almost glowing. A stray crystal fell and rested upon his eyelashes, and it was almost comical, how adorable he looked in such an austere, cold-hearted scene. One didn't expect to see the summer share its warmth on such a cold winter day, but he was the sun to my frozen heart, and he never seemed to warm me up.

"You know, this might be strange to say," Peter whispered, finally losing himself in the moment and ignoring the looks of people around us, "but you smell amazing. Like happiness, if happiness could be bottled up and given to someone like you. Is that weird?"

I just laughed and finally broke the glass wall between us to lay a careful kiss upon his lips, my hands against his chest and jaw and feeling the warmth of his body so near mine.

...

I later sat alone in my room, warm and dry clothes engulfing my body as light music played from downstairs and a peaceful air had fallen upon the room. My feet were covered in a ridiculous pair of socks bought for me from Gwen, who had the same pair in blue and MJ in green, and on the small table nearby a snowglobe sat in a winter wonderland, oblivious to the real world. It wasn't nearly as magical as it had been outside, experienced with him and at that level, but I didn't mind listening to the same Christmas tunes as much. The reindeer song still confused me, and the duet between the couple talking about how cold it was outside was more than irritating, but Christmas wasn't too difficult to tolerate.

My eyes slid from the book in front of me to the unopened present Peter had left me; I had almost forgotten to open it, something strange for me and my hatred for the unknown. I reached for the package and felt the silver wrapping paper, admiring the work; surely Aunt May must have helped him, but it was a work of art from someone's hands.

Once the paper had fallen off and I had opened up the gift, my heart stopped and I could barely hold onto the object, I was shaking so. My eyes were wide and threatening to burst as I looked down; it seemed to be worth a lot, and certainly meaningful beyond belief. I had never seen something quite so beautiful and so perfect as a gift.

His number was already in my 'favourites' so when I hurried to call, it only took three clicks to do so. Good thing, too; my hands were shaking too much that I was sure I couldn't enter it in.

"Hello?"

"Thank you."

Even without seeing him, I could tell he was smiling. "Anything for you, Emily. Merry Christmas."

I looked out the still-open to the snow falling softly and swiftly outside and could almost picture him on his own bed, copying my actions. "Merry Christmas, Peter."

*wipes tear*

That's the end of this story, my darlings. I've got an author's note that will be/has been published if you care, but this is the end and where I bid you ado. Thank you for reading this mess of a book, and for sticking through to this point - it was a tragic story, yes, but one I enjoyed writing and loved reading your supportive comments about. Whether you've read this from day one, or you're seeing this years in the future, your support for this means the absolute world and really helped me complete this book and get so far.

Thank you for reading Little Spy!