Secret Santa

"I want to pick a different name." Mac declares staring at the little slip of paper.

Dick

She sneaks a glance at him across the room. He's looking just as displeased with his Secret Santa choice which, she guesses, means he didn't get Logan.

"Did you get your own name?" Veronica asks, eyebrow raised, reading the expression on her face, "I didn't think so."

She turns away from her and Mac hates not even getting the opportunity to lie about it.

Veronica turns her attention to Logan, "Did you get me?" She asks searching his face while trying to grab at the piece of paper.

The paper is in Logan's mouth before she can get her fingers on it.

Wallace pats Mac on the back, "I'll trade with you if you want Mac."

Dick brightens up from the other side of the office.

"No trading!" Veronica's eyes are wide like she can't even believe her friends, plus Dick, would break the sacred laws of Secret Santa.

What the hell was she supposed to get him? Beer and porn maybe? She certainly couldn't afford the type of gifts he was used to getting. Not with all her money tied up in the act of not dying of starvation or exposure.

"No one can tell who they have. Not even after. I want everyone to guess." Veronica seems far too excited for this thing. Maybe she's trying to make being poor around Christmas more bearable by turning it into a game.

She already knew that the majority of Veronica and Keith's Christmas budget was going to Hunter.

It was a decent idea and she would be behind it if she had gotten anyone else.

"I don't want any handmade shit." Dick tells the room, "No thoughtfully made macaroni frames, or scarves, or shit. OK. If I end up with a handmade sweater, or something, I'm never going to talk to anyone again."

It seems Dick isn't really behind this thing either. If he had kept his mouth shut he would have just ended up with a micro brew six-pack and porn, but now? With the promise of never hearing his voice again she is sizing him up for a crappy, handmade sweater.

Her mom knits all the time it couldn't be that hard.

"Arg!" She screams out and throws the knitting needles and yarn across her apartment.

Stupid knit pearl bullshit.

She glares at the mess of metal and soft blue yarn. She figures the blue gray would look nice with his eyes, or her own eyes once it's thrown back at her, it certainly looked nice on the floor.

This was so much harder than her mother made it look. The tips of her fingers were sore from repeatedly stabbing herself with the knitting needles, it wasn't worth it.

He wasn't worth it, but the thought of the look on his face when he opens it up and tries to guess which one of them had so violently gone against his wishes pushes her up from the couch to retrieve the knitting.

She wants to see him stutter and grab the sweater, confused and outraged.

Sitting back down, she glances at the pattern she had gotten from her mother and goes back to stabbing herself and slowly creating a sweater.

Her mother had been so interested in the fact that she was planning on knitting a man a sweater for Christmas this year. There had been lots oif winking and smothered smiles.

Apparently her mother had knitted a sweater for her father for their first Christmas. It explained that horrible, lumpy thing he wore on holidays. He loved that sweater.

Her mother had assured her that the recipient would love the sweater just the same.

She very much doubted it.

"Arg!" She throws the knitting to the other side of the apartment, as far as she can manage.

She hates it! She hates knitting and she hates him.

The phone rings and she picks it up.

"I hate everything." She tells whoever it is in a serious deadpan.

Holy shit, is that how you answer the phone? No wonder you never get laid.

Dick's voice is on the other end, lilting with disbelief.

"I hate you, and that is so not true. I get laid plenty. They think I'm mysterious and intellectually stimulating."

They think you go full librarian freak in the sack.

She grumbles unhappily and moves to grab his gift from the floor.

"Why are you calling me? If you want me to fix your computer it's 75 an hour."

What!Logan said you fixed his for free!

"Yeah, well, I like Logan."

He's grumbling on the other end of the line before he finally relents.

Fine 75. When can you come over?

She looks down at the knitting in her hand; all she had planned for this evening was knitting and catching up on Sleepy Hallow.

"I'll be there in an hour."

He has the decency to only mutter about her not having anything better to do on a Friday night.

His computer is decimated by porn-related viruses.

She isn't surprised or anything. Not about the reason why his computer is FUBAR. What she finds curious is the images of girls all share certain similarities... with her.

Since when was Dick into petite brunettes?

Where were the tall, stacked blondes that looked like they were straight out of a Viking movie, or those Swinging Sixties era Swedish things.

She wipes them with a strange feeling in her gut. Dick is lying on the couch across from her, fucking around on his phone and sneaking glances at her that she, most certainly, isn't returning; at least not until he looks away.

There is something warm happening in her skin when he looks at her. It's odd and unwelcome but not unfamiliar.

She cleans out his laptop, installs a better firewall and sets it on the coffee table.

"It's done?"

"Yep."

She had been planing on pulling this out for the green, but she had finished as soon as possible. He looks oddly disappointed, maybe he thought she would do the same thing.

He gets up and is standing close to her, too close to her. He leans into her, pulling his wallet out of his pants, and she can smell him. He smells of lethargic luxury, a fruity smelling surf wax, sea salt, expensive cologne.

She hates everything and everyone for it smelling so appealing.

He pulls out a couple hundreds and presses them into her palm.

His hand is on hers, hot, and rolling her fingers up over the bills.

"This is too much." She wishes she hadn't looked up at him because something is in the space between them and she wants it gone, the feeling, the space.

"The rest is for the house call." He smirks at her and she isn't sure what look flashes across his face, but the smirk falters, he swallows hard and steps away from her.

She shoves the bills into her pocket and makes her escape.

"Arg!" She throws the almost sweater across the room and goes into the kitchen to pour herself a stiff drink.

She keeps seeing Dick.

Which isn't really that hard to accomplish since she spends almost all of her time at the office. Logan keeps sending him on errands apparently. He must have lost a bet.

All week he's been showing up at the office and leaving his damn smell all over the place. She swears he rubbed up against her coat while she wasn't looking because the smell has followed her.

She tosses back the whiskey, and goes back to the knitting.

It's barely a sweater. It's loose in places and death grip tight in others, it's a quality ugly, lumpy, handmade sweater.

Well, some of it was quality.

Some of it was shit.

Okay, most of it was shit.

She's rolling it into a ball and taping happy penguin wrapping paper around it.

She can't believe that she has actually finished it. She can't even count how many times she had thrown it around in a knitting rage.

Basically she was never knitting again and sending the knitting needles back to her mother the second she could.

She throws the gift and the needles into her bag and gets ready for work.

The month had gone by quickly, which she supposes has a lot to do with the fact that the majority of her days had been the same; work, knit, sleep.

She dropped the present off with Keith, who was going to bring them into the office later to stop people from trying to figure out who was their Santa.

Veronica was going a little overboard with the whole thing, but it was something she could control in a world that kept falling apart and putting itself back together with new pieces she wasn't prepared for, so she kinda understood where all this was coming from.

Dick was already at the office when she dropped her things on the couch next to him.

He eyes the mound of things, his eyes trailing across her purse. She grabs it quickly worried that he's seen the knitting needles.

"God, chill Mackenzie. I'm not going to go through your purse. This isn't the Breakfast Club."

She hated the Breakfast Club. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She loved and hated it. She had always identified most with Brian and, in true eighties form, he had left without the girl.

She sneaks a look at Dick, dropping her bags in the bottom drawer of her desk.

He's looking back at her and she feels caught, her heart hammering in her chest. She wonders if this shirt gives her cleavage.

No! God don't check!

She straightens up and looks down at him, trying to harden her eyes, but it's hard.

The entire month has been filled with him, thoughts, smells. She has spent her entire month knitting him a God-damn sweater for Christ sakes and she's worried it's softened her to him.

Someone clears their throat and she notices, for the first embarrassing time, that Wallace is lounging against the doorframe of the inner office with a mug of coffee in his hand.

"Good morning." She offers before hiding behind her monitors.

Mac does her best not to talk to anyone, or even looking up from her work. Veronica and Logan come in and she doesn't looks up. She can hear the comments of overworking her and trying to pull her away from whatever it is she is doing.

She isn't really doing anything at this point. She's done everything she needs to do. Invoices, administration, filling out paperwork, all done. She is fiddling around in terminal knowing that none of them know better to think she isn't doing anything.

When Keith comes in, however, she can't hide any more.

He has a Santa hat on, tinsel wrapped around his cane and a bag of presents which he carefully puts on the table between them all.

She pushes away from the desk and is forced into the only open space left.

Next to Dick.

Obviously the universe hates her.

The space is too small and it feels like there is no space between them; just hot feelings of too many varieties radiating from him and sinking into her skin.

Keith pulls the presents out of the bags, handing them to their intended targets. Veronica was really pulling out all the stops to keep the mystery alive. It's borderline fanatical really.

"Oh God, why is it soft?" Dick asks the room, his hands full of the happy penguins.

"That's what she said." Logan offers from across the room.

"The name of your sex tape." Wallace offers.

Logan and Wallace look at each other like long lost friends, smiling at each other from opposite sides of Veronica.

Mac looks down at the short, narrow box in her own hands, black wrap and silver ribbon. The box is beautiful and her curiosity pulls her attention away from Dick, who is trying to feel out his present.

The box in her hand looks like a jewellery box which was just absurd; they were all supposed to be thoughtful inexpensive gifts.

Maybe Veronica had pulled her name and fun costume jewellry sat inside waiting for her all glue and sparkles.

She looked over at Veronica who was holding an envelope with reindeer drawn on it.

Wallace was turning a normal enough looking box in his hands and Logan's gift was long and oddly shaped and wrapped in My Little Pony paper.

"Alright, I'll leave you crazy kids to it." Keith nods and makes his way slowly, but not as slowly as yesterday, into his office.

It's not until the door closes tightly that Veronica signals that it's ok to rip into their gifts.

She tries to watch Dick while unwrapping her own gift, but it's hard from this angle.

He rips into the paper, sending the happy penguins across her lap, as she puts the silver ribbon on the table and prepares to open the box.

"No fucking way." Dick's voice bursts across the small room and stops everyone.

They all freeze in their unwrapping and enjoyment to look at Dick.

She turns a little, her leg, bare under her skirt, hits his knee and rubs along his side as she moves.

Dick is unfurling her hard work.

"I thought I..." He narrows his eyes and looks around the room trying to figure out which one of them went so blatantly against his wishes.

His eyes fall on Mac and his expression softens like he absolutely knows it was her.

She looks down quickly and it seems to be answer enough for him.

"It's a good color I guess?" He shrugs looking at the steel blue in his lap.

He keeps sneaking glances at her as she turns her attention back to her own mystery present. The same kind of looks he had been sending her way at his house that warm her skin and pool heat in places it's so not appropriate to pool.

"It's a necklace." She tells the room confused. It's a silver bolt shaped pendant, "It's lovely..." She whispers pulling it out of the small box, ignoring the instruction booklet behind the velvet.

It looks oddly familiar, but she can't really place it. Where would she have seen this before?

"Oh my God, it's a pony!" Veronica exclaims, standing from her seat and all attention is on her. She's jumping around the room, her hands clasp tightly around a piece of paper.

"What?"

"It's not really a pony." Logan leans in to tell them. "It's just riding lessons."

Mac nods but turns her attention back to the necklace in her hand. Dick keeps looking at her like he expects her to suddenly get the joke.

She catches his gaze and searches it for something, but all that's there is that strange heat again.

He leans in close, breaking eye contact to whisper in her ear.

"I'll wear mine if you wear yours." His voice is low and hot, holding tight to her heart and lungs.

"So you know..."

"I do now." He pulls away from her smiling and takes the pendant from her hands, the way his fingers move along the metal is obscene, "Pick up your hair."

She does as he says and, turning her back to him, lets him clasp the necklace around her neck. His fingers grazing her neck way more than is necessary.

She drops her hair and settles the pendant between her breasts. It lays there, cold against her skin, in the cleavage created by this particular outfit.

A flush is evident across his face as he pulls himself away from her to pull the lumpy sweater over his shirt. She's pleased that the color does look really good on him after all.

"Mac?" Wallace pulls her attention away from Dick. He's reading the instruction manual that came from the necklace box. She can't image what kind of instructions she would need.

Unclasp hook

Put on

Reclasp hook

Wear.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what that is?" He is smothering his smile and handing Logan the instruction booklet.

Veronica is still overflowing with joy and talking to her father about her gift so Logan steals her seat next to Wallace.

"Oh my God Dick, you didn't..."

Dick leans back on the couch, his arms along the back of it looking like he owned it even in the lumpy horrible sweater.

"What? It looks great on her." She can feel his eyes on her cleavage and it sets her heart racing.

"What..." She pulls the bolt out and looks at it in her hand. There's what looks like a small button on the side and when she presses it the whole bolt vibrates in her hand.

She stands up quickly, "Oh my God, is this!? Is it the-"

She rips the instructions out of Logan's hands and with the bolt vibrating slowly, pulsing against her shirt, she reads the instructions.

It's a vibrator.

It is a pretty, wearable vibrator.

She quickly turns it back off and turns to Dick, eyes wide in what might be outrage.

He's just fucking loving this.

Calm down Mac, he's trying to get a rise out of you.

She turns the vibration off, sits down calmly and throwing Dick a heated look, that she isn't really sure what it's meant to mean. she breathes deeply.

"Thank you." She folds the instructions back into the box and goes back to her desk, dropping the box into the drawer next to her purse.

She can hear stage whispers between Logan, Wallace and Dick.

Why on earth did you think that was a good idea?

It's pretty. Girls like pretty things.

It's a vibrator Dick.

Girls like sex,too! I haven't seen Mac with anyone since she got back anyway. She could use a little stress relief.

They all get dead silent as she looks at them each in turn.

Finally her eyes fall on Veronica who has rejoined the party too late, her face lit up with joy.

"What happened?"

"Dick bought me a necklace." She offers, holding the necklace out noticing how Dick's eyes follow it out of her cleavage. She's fairly certain that's hunger in his eyes, but it's been a while since she's been on the receiving end of that kind of look so she's not sure.

"Wait! You know who your Secret Santa is?! How?"

She turns the necklace on and raises an eyebrow at Veronica, "Guess what it doubles for?"

"It isn't..." She whips around to look at Dick, " What were you thinking!?"

Dick shrugs, a sleazy smirk across his face, "I thought she'd like it. It charges by USB and everything. She's into that kind of thing."

She looks down at the bolt in her hand. Honestly, she does kind of like it. It's pretty and when she pulls open her shirt in order to let the metal sink back down she feels oddly powerful, like she's taking complete ownership of herself and her sexuality which isn't really something she's felt in control of in her entire life. There had been brief flickers of ownership in high school, but they had been decimated. It had taken a long time to get where she was now and maybe this little bobble made her just a little closer to that ideal.

She moves to get herself a coffee; she can hear a brief scuffle between Dick and Veronica before Veronica falls back into the joy that only ponies could give her.

She's pouring herself a cup when two hands appear on the counter on either side of her.

The hairs on the back of her neck raise, a warm feeling flows though her as Dick traps her against the counter.

Taking a breath and pulling in too much of his lazy, wonderful smell, she sets the coffee pot and her cup down before turning towards him..

"I'm supposed to be apologizing," He tells her quietly, "but you're not actually upset, are you?" His voice just fucking crashes over her, a warm coating she actually quite likes.

She raises a hand to his chest and runs her fingers over the well-handled yarn. The handmade sweater gives him a strange, harmless, innocent appearance that clashes against his voice and eyes that are trying to drag her into a closet and have their way with her.

She would much rather have her way with him and she wonders if he can tell because he presses in against her his body desperate for a friction she wouldn't give him.

Not here.

"You really going to wear this all day?" She asks instead of answering any of his questions, even the ones he's not saying out loud.

"If you'll wear yours."

She's pretty sure she's getting away with the better deal here.

"How will I know you've worn it all day?"

"Come over tonight."

"What about Logan?"

It's not the question she should ask. She should ask if he's asking what she thinks he is, if this is some strange semi-festive booty call, or even if he really thinks she'll sleep with him.

Maybe she doesn't ask because she doesn't want to know the answers. He's been in her brain all month, in dreams that were far naughtier than her usual fare.

"Does it matter? You a loud one?" He presses in against her again, rocking his hips lightly into her; one of his hands on the buttons of her blouse.

Her heart is hammering in her chest as he unbuttons a couple, he rubs the back of his hand against her newly exposed skin.

"What time?"

She asks, worried that her voice is betraying her because it is several shades darker than it has any right being at work.

"Seven? Bring dinner." He pushes away from her and leaves her ice cold and confused in the small coffee room.

They close shop early for a multitude of reasons, but mostly so the Mars' can spend the rest of the day with Logan and Hunter.

She goes home meaning to spend the two hours she has to kill before going over to Dick's spacing out and watching television. She has some wrapping to do anyway.

Her parents' and brother's presents still sit on the table, unwrapped, waiting. She should do it before she leaves since she was spending most of tomorrow evening with her family.

They had been so excited when Mac moved back, there was no way that she could disappoint them and miss Christmas Eve dinner and games. Not when she had been bailing on most other invitations.

The presents are wrapped in twenty minutes.

She has too much time on her hands. She flops forward against the desk and her necklace clangs against the wood.

She sits up quickly, her hand around the bolt and looks nervously around the room and then at her phone.

She had enough time for that...

She settles herself on her bed, her skirt pushed high around her hips, the necklace in her hand, her breath held.

She had tried to warm it up in her hands, but it's still cold against her wet underwear. She's been wet for hours and no amount of paperwork had managed to change that. She kept remembering the feel of Dicks hands and breath, and that his smell was fucking everywhere certainly hadn't helped matters.

She turns the pulsating vibrations on and sneaks the stainless steel past her underwear.

A soft gasp of noise escapes her mouth as the 'necklace' vibrates and pulses against wet, sensitive skin. The thin thing is much more powerful then she thought it would be and it sends pleased shocks of feeling through her body.

It slips inside and she grasps at the bedding, rocking her body against the wonderfully invasive present.

A low string of curses slides out of her as the necklace does everything in it's power to send her over the edge.

Her breathing is heavy and quick, the pulsating and movement of the little machine pushing her.

She puts her other hand to work, an urgent need to finish washing over her. With some rough touches she falls apart, loudly.

She lays there, the necklace still inside her. Puffing for breath.

"Best present ever."

She lays there for she doesn't know how long, the bolt of metal lowly vibrating in her building up a slow boil of beautiful, warm feelings.

Her phone goes off beside her and it crashes through the lively fog she's created.

She picks it up worried that it's going to destroy the great feelings settling into her.

It doesn't.

It's Dick.

Your stupid sweater is itchy,you still wearing your present?

She looks down at herself.

Yes.

He didn't ask where she was wearing it.

Good, now get over here.

She lays there for a long moment trying to take it out; she could lick it clean and put it back on, no problem but... then she would have to take it out...

She keeps it on low and rights her underwear. Getting up from the bed, she grabs a large bottle of beer, and a frozen pizza.

She had planned on stopping somewhere and bringing take out, but she didn't really want to put more time between her and Dick.

The drive over is... Interesting.

She feels like she's going to get caught any second and it only makes it feel better.

She hits a low beautiful completion as she pulls into Dick's driveway.

She sits there, hands grasped tightly around the wheel riding it out and when the waves are done crashing around her she's not sure if she is going to be able to walk properly.

"Best present ever." She whispers against the steering wheel.

Taking deep breaths she gets out of the car. She leans into the backseat to grab the bag of frozen pizza and beer, and by the time she knocks on his door something very sad has happened.

She's killed that battery.

The door burst open and Dick is standing there in the blue sweater, "Took you long enough, I thought nerds were supposed to be prompt?"

She smiles at him and walks into the house, her hand on his chest. She doesn't know what it is about that smile but she can hear his breathing hitch.

He follows her into the kitchen and traps her against the counter. She can feel his hardness as h presses against her..

One of his arms wraps around her waist pulling her tight to him.

With a light touch he presses his hand against her neck, searching for the chain. Not finding it he runs his hand lower into her shirt, grazing her breasts.

"Seriously! I wore this all day and you couldn't even put it on before you got out of the car to pretend?"

He makes to pull away from her, but she grabs his hands.

"You didn't say where." She tells him, Her voice low and heavy from her satisfying afternoon.

"What..."

She drags his hand down her body to the edge of her skirt and slips his hand underneath. He does the rest, his hand naturally seeking out the warmth of her core. His fingers push her underwear slowly out of the way and become entangled in the chain.

"You're using it right now..."

His fingers wrap around the edge of the bolt and pull it out of her slowly. She can't help the moan that falls from her mouth and it's paired with his own, low against her neck ,his hips rocking against her, desperate.

He holds the necklace out in front of her, it's dripping onto his hand.

She blushes so hard that she's sure he can feel it in her skin without looking at her.

"So you like my present then..."

Before she can answer, he pops the bolt in his mouth and it come out clean. He loosens his grip on her and she turns to face him.

She runs her hands up the sweater and into his hair, his eyes are flickering between her own and her mouth.

She pulls her own gaze away from his eyes to his mouth, wet and inviting.

Leaning up to him, he does the rest. His mouth on hers, urgent and welcome.

He grabs her hips hard and lifts her to the counter, settling between her legs, his hands grabbing desperately at her.

They break for air and she's envious of his naturally athletic nature because she is pulling in air at a rate that makes her seem wanton where he is barely breathing heavily at all.

She makes a note to take Wallace up on all those tennis games more often.

"Did you want to eat or something? Watch a movie?"

"Is this a date?" She can't help but ask.

"Is it not?" He seems suddenly worried and she pulls him back into another kiss, wrapping her legs around him, wanting him closer.

When they pull apart again his breathing has finally gotten labored.

"It can be a date..." She looks down at the space between them. There isn't any, " It's just, I don't usually put out on a first date if there's going to be a second..." She looks up at him nervously and his smile is smothered.

"How about this," he picks her up from the counter and starts towards the stairs, her legs and arms wrapped tightly around him, " We have our first date tomorrow and just enjoy each other's company tonight."

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve."

"Yeah."

"I'm spending it with my family."

"Well that works because so am I." He turns the corner and pushes his bedroom door open.

He doesn't toss her onto the bed like she expects. He just sits on the bed so that she has to untangle her legs from behind him in order to sit on his lap comfortable.

She tries to fix him with a serious look but his hands are between them working on his belt, his knuckles rubbing against her, driving her to distraction, "What do you mean," she takes a shuttering breath, "'so am I'?"

"I met your mom today at the organic market." He stops moving his hands to pay attention to her, or maybe the thought of her mother has made him a little less handsy.

"You what now?"

"You're mom came up to me in the market. She recognized the sweater and asked if I was your secret boyfriend."

"Oh my God, she didn't." She flops forward to hide her head in his neck, " God, what did you say?"

He's silent for what feels like an eternity. She moves again to look at him and he's blushing, ever so slightly, and avoiding eye contact with her.

"What did you say?"

"I said I was."

She is fairly certain he has never been more attractive than he is right now. She wraps her fingers around the awkwardly knitted monstrosity and pulls it up over his head.

She tosses it across the room with a practiced ease.

" You're really good at that..." A smile is spreading across his face because she isn't upset with him for telling her mother they were dating.

"I've been practicing all month." The smile she gives him is a little too predatory but he doesn't seem to mind at all.

In fact, she'd dare to wager that he liked it.

His fingers make quick work of her shirt, his hands and mouth lavishing her skin with attention.

He puts his hand on hers before she can wiggle it all the way into his pants, "I like sweater... I like you." He tells her quietly like its a big secret.

"I like you, too." She returns just as quietly, " That's why after tonight we start fresh, wait a little while until we have sex again."

He nods, " Emotional foundations and shit, right?"

"Right."

He pulls her off him and presses her down against the bed, taking charge of the situation in a way she is absolutely fine with.

Normally she would wait to the third date, but when Dick finally slides inside, hot and throbbing and full, she knows that she'll be lucky to make it to the second date without jumping him.

There were, after all, plenty of places for a quickie at her parents' place she just wonders if she can con him into wearing the sweater again.