a/n: Guys. I wanted to write like a bazillion Christmas stories, and yet here we are...oops. Yeah, I'm a little busy since it's December and all that, but also, ummm major time management fail on my part. So this is it, my one attempt at a Christmas prompt fill. Hope you like it! And now I need to go catch up on everyone else's stories! YAY Christmas :)

Prompt #1: It's Lucy's first Christmas without her sister (erased from existence) and her mom (Rittenhouse member) at her side. Seeing her sad, Wyatt and/or Rufus decide to cheer her up.

So we sing carols softly, as sweet as we know
A prayer that our burdens will lift as we go
Like young love still waiting under mistletoe
We'll welcome December with tireless hope

- Snow by Sleeping at Last

The sharp knock on her door comes suddenly, and she very nearly flings her steaming hot tea bag across the kitchen in response. Lucy presses a hand to her heart for a split-second, then instantly relaxes when the rhythmic tapping picks back up to the beat of Time After Time - Rufus' ironic selection for the team's secret knock - outside of her tiny apartment.

She smiles to herself and hastily makes her way to the door, the tea all but forgotten.

It's Wyatt on the other side of her door, a fact she's sure of before she's even made it out of the kitchen. He'd casually mentioned the possibility of stopping by tomorrow - a statement she's been clinging to with embarrassing abandon - but tonight's visit comes as a surprise. Even so, he's pretty much the only person who ever pops in without warning, especially at this time of night. She tries to tame the wild pounding of her heart as she slides the deadbolt open, but that dimpled grin of his leaves her with no choice.

"Hi. Go pack your things. We're here to kidnap you."

She glances skeptically behind him, but the hallway is deserted. "We?"

"There's a getaway car outside, so get a move on." Wyatt prods his way past her, ushering her back into the apartment and toward her bedroom. "C'mon, time's a wastin'."

"But - but..." she sputters senselessly, eyes landing on the glowing numbers of the microwave display a few feet away, "...it's getting late and it's - "

"Christmas Eve?" One eyebrow rises, goading her further with its implicit challenge. "I'm aware. Consider this your surprise gift."

She just shakes her head, totally awestruck, millions of questions racing through her brain. "What? Where are we - "

"Nope, no questions," Wyatt throws open the door to her room and pins her with a take-no-prisoners look. "Now get packing or I'll pack for you."

That effectively gets her moving. She's blushing just thinking about him rifling through her dresser, which means she probably wouldn't survive the alternative. She begins pulling items out at random - jeans, leggings, sweaters - before glancing over her shoulder and to find him intently watching her every move. He simply smirks in return, shrugging ever so slightly at being caught staring.

"Do I need more than a duffel bag worth of stuff?"

"No, that'll work," he answers vaguely, eyes twinkling.

"Then make yourself useful and pull my bag down from the top shelf in the closet."

"Sure thing, ma'am."

"I'm assuming we're not going too far, right?" she asks once he's facing her again. "Winter clothes only?"

Wyatt ponders that for a moment before lifting a noncommittal shoulder. "Winter clothes only, plus a swimsuit."

She barks out an automatic laugh, shaking her head defiantly. "Oh no, hell no, I am not - "

"Just throw one in there and save the objections for later," he says, eyes rolling upward. "No one will be holding a gun to your head."

"Fine, fine," she mutters begrudgingly, "but good luck finding one. I haven't been doing much swimming lately seeing as it's December and this gig doesn't come with much vacation time."

"Nice try, but I was the pack mule who hauled all of your junk up here, Lucy."

"What is that supposed to mean? And my stuff is not junk, thank you very much."

He turns away abruptly, disappearing into the closet once more. He's grinning victoriously a few moments later when a box labeled Summer plops down next to the duffel bag.

"You were saying..?"

Lucy would be annoyed if she weren't so impressed. "I was saying nothing. Nothing at all."

Once she's got everything loaded into her bag - everything but a few unmentionables and a damn swimsuit - Lucy turns to Wyatt and begins to wordlessly shoo him away, certain that he'll put two and two together on his own.

Which he does. Of course he does, because he's far more observant than the average person has any right to be, and that shit-eating grin of his is wreaking havoc with her thin scrap of composure.

"I've seen a bra before, Lucy. In fact, I've seen your bra before, so - "

"So you're waiting in the other room anyway."

He tilts his face impossibly close to hers. "Is that an order?"

Oh God, how can she be so attracted to someone this smug, this impertinent, this…

Irresistible. He's so damn irresistible.

Incapable of much else, Lucy plants a firm hand to his chest and pushes him backward with a reluctant half-smile creeping up her face. Wyatt just chuckles in response, warmth blazing up into his cheeks.

Good. Let him make fun of her all he wants, but he's obviously affected by the subtext too, the evidence of which is enough to justify her own trigger-shy reaction.

Once he's safely out of sight, Lucy gathers the last of her necessary belongings and then comes gliding out into the narrow living room, scooting past Wyatt on her way to the bathroom where she speedily compiles a small collection of toiletries.

She finds him waiting dutifully on the couch after she's satisfied that her work is done, and his solemn-eyed gaze is tracing over the only framed photo in the whole apartment. It's them, their unique little trio of a team - Rufus and Wyatt and Lucy, all crammed together into one side of a booth as per Jiya's direction. That picture captures so much for Lucy; it's the only little scrap of a family that either she or Wyatt has at the moment.

That hits her hard without warning. She's been so busy sulking about her own miserable lack of holiday plans - plans that have a huge Amy-shaped hole in them - that she's failed to consider the fact that all of Wyatt's holidays are this empty.

He looks up at her after a beat, smiling again, completely carefree. "All ready?"

"All ready," she echoes with a nod, doing everything she can to match his expression. "Let the kidnapping commence."

If possible, his smile seems to broaden. She's struck with a childhood memory, an illustration of the Grinch's heart growing three sizes bigger in just a moment of realization, and while Wyatt has never really been a Grinch of any kind, the comparison produces a quiet chuckle from deep within.

He eyes her warily, hand coming to rest on her arm as he leads the way out into the hall and down toward the parking lot. "Should I ask?"

"No," she says immediately, only succeeding in making herself laugh a little harder. "Definitely not."

He shrugs it off easily. They step out into the crackling December air just in time to find Wyatt's truck rumbling up to the curb.

"Wait, why - "

"No questions!" Rufus hollers as he shifts the truck into park and scrambles down from the driver's side.

Wyatt gives her a hand up into the passenger side and then he's moving around to the front and replacing Rufus behind the wheel, that same glinting smile never quite fading away.

From the moment they're peeling out - and yes, there was a very deliberate peeling, as if this is in fact a legitimate kidnapping - Rufus demands that they do nothing but listen to Christmas carols blasting from the speakers at an ear-splitting volume, because it's the only way he'll be able to keep his mouth shut.

As much as Lucy's dying to ask about a dozen different questions - like what the hell's gotten into the two of them, why was Rufus driving Wyatt's truck, and where could they possibly be going - she instantly gives up on trying to figure it out as soon as the music fills the truck. Rufus starts belting out Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree with incomparable enthusiasm and she drops the questions without a fight, joining in with him between rounds of gleeful laughter. Christmas music is her kryptonite, something she may have mentioned to one of them at some point…

Oh yeah, this is a very intentional diversion, isn't it?

But it doesn't matter if they're using that confession against her now, because she's having way too much fun to give a damn. She even hears Wyatt joining in on the chorus of Jingle Bells, and she doesn't dare look over at him for fear that he'll get self-conscious and stop. Not that he'd have any reason to do so...he's actually a somewhat decent singer, which is pretty far off from his claim of supposedly being tone deaf.

So she keeps on singing with one ear attuned to his voice, relaxing further into her seat as Wyatt navigates their way through the northbound holiday traffic.

And then before she knows it, his hand is on her shoulder, shaking ever so gently as she fights to focus her heavy-lidded gaze on his face.

"Hey, sleepyhead. We're here."

Rufus has taken off ahead of them with several grocery bags in hand, which means Lucy is left to process the idea of where here is with only Wyatt's eyes on her as she takes it all in.

There's snow, at least two or three feet of it, covering everything she can see like a thick downy blanket. It's the most picturesque scene, a perfect snapshot of a white Christmas in the mountains. And nestled right into the middle of it all - with the swirling snow and the tall pines and the outcropping of more mountains in the distance - is a rustic little cottage that looks right at home in the drifting wintry landscape.

"Oh my God, Wyatt," she breathes out, suddenly as wide awake as she's ever been.

"You haven't seen anything yet," he responds mischievously.

He snags her duffel from the back seat and takes her hand as she comes around the front of the truck.

"Be careful…" he slides his hand up higher to grasp her elbow in a firmer grip, "I shoveled and salted the walk earlier, but it's pretty blustery up here so - "

Lucy cuts him off abruptly, the words tumbling out of her in confusion. "You were already up here earlier today? Seriously, what is - "

"You'll see."

And oh God, does she ever. With barely one foot inside the front door she's already gasping and covering her mouth, tears stinging her eyes.

White lights blink everywhere. They extend like a canopy above her, draping from one exposed beam to the next in graceful arcs. Paper snowflake chains intermingle with the lights, shimmering with glitter as they sway back and forth in the frozen gust that's followed them indoors. A real fire crackles in the hearth across the room, the scent of fresh pine and sweet cookies floats over her, and tall white candles flicker on just about every available surface.

And that's when she finds the most adorable Christmas tree positioned just on the other side of the stone fireplace, tastefully decorated with a spattering of colorful bulbs and shiny tinsel. It literally takes her breath away.

She'd convinced herself that she didn't have time to deal with a tree this year, but that's not the whole story. If she's honest, she didn't have the heart to deal with a tree, not when she didn't have a sister who would eagerly dive head first into every last bit of family tradition even while their mom was sick and it would only be the two of them who'd enjoy the effort.

"Those better be happy tears."

The warmth that fills Wyatt's voice makes those burgeoning tears finally spill out over her eyelashes.

"Definitely happy," is all she can manage to choke out. His hand brushes comfortingly over her back and that's all the encouragement she needs. Lucy turns and throws herself against him, arms twining over his shoulders as she silently urges herself to not start full-out bawling.

"I'll never turn one of these down," he says as he squeezes her against him, "but I really can't take all the credit for this. It was a team effort."

As if on cue, Rufus and Jiya emerge from another room, a tray of cookies and several mugs balanced between them.

"You got that right, Logan," Jiya calls out teasingly. "And the team certainly made a mistake when we trusted you with a pair of scissors. Never again."

Wyatt keeps one arm looped over Lucy's shoulders as he turns them both, gesturing at the very last string of snowflakes on the opposite end of the room. "That crummy chain down there...yeah, that's my first and last attempt at paper snowflakes."

She laughs through the waterworks, swiping a hand across her cheek as she squints at his misshapen masterpiece. "It's...not so bad."

Rufus snorts at that. "Don't lie. It's uglier than Charlie Brown's Christmas tree, and I mean before the other kids fancied it up."

"No arguments here," Wyatt agrees with a good-natured chuckle.

Lucy reluctantly worms her way out from under Wyatt's arm, but the effort is worth it once she's made the rounds. Rufus doesn't say much as Lucy expresses her gratitude with another big hug, yet it's perfectly clear that he's pleased with her dumbfounded reaction. And then Jiya returns Lucy's hug with equaled force, swaying around a little with a giddy smile as she gives the place another once over.

"This may have started out as a surprise for you, but it's honestly been so much fun! I want to do Christmas Eve in a cabin every year now."

"Can I be the one who gets surprised next time?" Rufus requests with narrowed eyes. "I want to get off the decorating committee."

Wyatt scoffs, arms folding over his chest. "Right, because you did so much to the work…"

"Fight nicely boys," Jiya tosses out with a smirk before redirecting her attention to the mugs that she and Rufus brought in from the kitchen. "I've already got a kettle of hot water on the stovetop. What'll it be, Lucy? There's hot cocoa, peppermint tea, winter cinnamon - "

"Oh my God, winter cinnamon...I left an entire mug of winter cinnamon tea back at my apartment," she laments, her brain immediately flashing to where it must still be sitting on her kitchen counter.

"Well then it's a good thing that a certain someone had the foresight to add that exact type of tea to the shopping list," Jiya says a little too knowingly, her gaze skipping over to Wyatt who is still knee-deep in some silly debate with Rufus.

Lucy dodges that remark entirely, choosing instead to ask something that she only feels comfortable mentioning while Wyatt is otherwise occupied. "I'm beyond thrilled to hang out tonight, especially with everything you guys did, but...it's Christmas Eve, Jiya. Don't you and Rufus have other plans with your families? I don't want to keep you from - "

"You can forget that right now, okay? We're exactly where we want to be." Jiya takes one look at Lucy's facial expression, then gives her a reassuring nudge to the shoulder. "Seriously, I mean it. We're headed out early tomorrow to hit Christmas morning with his mom and brother, then later we'll do Christmas dinner with my family. It all worked out just right."

"Okay," Lucy says with a hesitant smile, "if you're sure - "

"Absolutely sure. Now let's get you some winter cinnamon tea. It's movie time."

Everyone else springs into action at those words. Rufus begins to fiddle with the entertainment console, Jiya vanishes into the kitchen, and Wyatt drags two of the biggest air mattresses Lucy has ever seen in from one of the darkened bedrooms. He glances up with a smile as she just stands there gaping in surprise again. In another few seconds he comes back with an impressive pile of pillows and blankets, and then she finally snaps back to life and makes herself useful, helping him to fluff everything out across the middle of the room until there's a perfectly cozy nest set up in front of the television.

Lucy drops down onto the edge of one mattress, her heart lodging up into her throat as she sees the movie title screen light up the room. "White Christmas? We're really watching White Christmas?"

"Is that alright with you?"

Wyatt's telltale smile confirms her assumption that they somehow knew that it's a favorite of hers, but she just can't figure out how they would have learned that...and that's all that she can really muster in response, a perplexed - "How?"

"You've been humming that snow song for days. The one they sing on the train."

Her jaw might actually hit the floor if he keeps this up. "You know that song?"

"Jess tricked me into watching it with her one year. She said it was a classic World War II movie. There was some ridiculous spiel about the camaraderie of soldiers banning together for one of their own, patriotism, courage...God even knows what else she threw in there. It was more than a little misleading."

Lucy's astonishment sparks into full-on delight. "That's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Everything she said was true, you know."

"You would take her side," he retorts with an eye roll.

"So you really didn't like it?"

"It really wasn't a classic World War II movie. The war is over in like the first five minutes and then there's nothing but singing and dancing for two freaking hours."

Lucy is still laughing as she manages to propose that they watch something else if he hates the movie that much, but he shakes his head with a very deliberate look, one that's rimmed with a thread of lingering sadness.

"She watched White Christmas pretty much every year, and I...I refused to ever watch it with her a second time. Obviously I regret that now."

This confession raises a whole other set of concerns, but Wyatt intercepts her thoughts before Lucy even knows how to put a name to what she's feeling.

"I'm okay, Lucy," he says quietly, a hand brushing across the top of her own. "No more regrets. We're watching White Christmas.

There's an implication somewhere in there, one that links her so closely to Jessica that she's left reeling on the inside, but Lucy deposits that thought into a very far-off corner of her heart and decides that she won't think of it again tonight, not when she's already so unbelievably happy. No need to spoil it with overanalyzing the are-we-or-aren't-we situation with Wyatt.

But as he rearranges the pillows behind them and then pulls Lucy alongside him until they're propped up comfortably against each other, it's hard to think of anything but the Wyatt situation - a situation that has shifted and expanded a lot in the last several months. It's not unusual for them to sit this close, to share blankets and pillows and personal space like this. So of course he's started to pick up on little things like what kind of tea she drinks or what movies she likes, right? She could do the same for him. It doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Yes it does. She's a liar if she tells herself anything else. It damn well means something.

Jiya is back with a sly smile in place as she observes Wyatt and Lucy snuggled up together, but she thankfully withholds whatever it is she's thinking as she doles out packets of cocoa, tea bags, and hot water before sinking down onto the other air mattress with Rufus by her side.

And then the movie begins and Lucy almost succumbs to another flood of tears. It's like she's detoxing from the weight of everything she's been carrying around for so long, releasing the stress and the sadness and the disappointment if only for this one night. With the opening scenes of an old favorite, the taste of cinnamon and snickerdoodles, and the collection of such amazing friends all huddled together in the firelight, she can finally take a deep breath and let everything else go. This is everything she's been missing, and short of permanently erasing Rittenhouse from her life and having Amy here with her this Christmas, she's convinced that nothing could be better.

Wyatt endures most of the movie without complaint, or rather with very quiet, very mumbled complaints that make Lucy snort with laughter. He unexpectedly scoots away from her toward the very end, whispering that he'll be back in a minute. She wants to protest that he's missing the big finale, but there's an impish playfulness in his expression that makes her hold back. True to his word, he's not gone for very long at all, but when he does slide over to her once more, he brings a serious chill along with him, one that has her moving further away from him just as he begins to drape an arm around her shoulders.

"Were you outside? You're freezing. Why - "

"You ask too many questions, ma'am."

The last notes of singing ring out and the screen fades to black, signaling the end of the movie as well as the end of Wyatt's torture.

He's not paying any attention, though. He and Rufus are trading very suspicious smirks over Lucy's head, which of course means she has even more questions than before.

The mystery doesn't last for much longer. Rufus say something to Jiya, Jiya rolls her eyes and mutters the word fine, Rufus nods at Wyatt, and then Wyatt is taking Lucy by the arm and towing her up off the mattress in quite a hurry.

"Okay, so you know how I may have mentioned bringing a swimsuit earlier?"

"Mentioned? You practically went on a search and rescue mission for that swimsuit."

"Guilty as charged," he replies smoothly. "But for good reason. Swimwear is a requirement for phase two of the Christmas Eve Kidnapping."

Lucy's allowed him to direct her over to one of the adjoining bedrooms, but now that her duffel bag is in sight and the unavoidable next step seems to be looming ahead of her, she tries to duck out of his reach.

Which is a dumb move, of course. Her chances of outmaneuvering Wyatt are lower than that proverbial snowball in hell.

"Ah, ah, not so fast." He traps her in the door frame, his solid body surrounding her as leans an arm against the wall and drops his chin until they're eye-to-eye. "So there's a deck out back, and on that deck, there's a Jacuzzi that's just about ready for us."

"Oh a Jacuzzi, why didn't you say so?" she asks dryly, nervous butterflies spiraling to life in her stomach as he seems to get even closer.

"C'mon. Everyone likes Jacuzzis, especially in weather like this."

Lucy wrinkles her nose and tries to shrink backward into the woodwork. "Yeah, other than the fact that I have to go outside - in a bikini, no less - to get to that Jacuzzi."

His lips twitch upward, eyes shining brighter. "A bikini, huh?"

"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

She plays it off like he's an exasperating child, rolling her eyes and twisting away until her back is to him and she can look preoccupied as she fumbles through her bag, but her veins are practically humming under his amplified attention.

"I'll be waiting for you, Luce, so don't take all night."

The door closes behind him, and Lucy counts her lucky stars that their latest jump through time took them to Miami in a heatwave, thus ensuring that her legs aren't an Abominable Snowman level of scary. That in and of itself is a Christmas miracle, but her apprehension about donning the simple black bikini goes beyond whether or not she's shaved recently. She's never been overly comfortable in a swimsuit, or rather she's never been overly comfortable being seen in a swimsuit.

Wyatt's voice booms from the other side of the door, announcing - "I'm ready when you are!"

"Well that took him all of two seconds," she grumbles under her breath before forcing herself into motion. Once she's triple checked that everything is in its proper place and she's as covered as covered in a bikini gets, she ties her hair up into a messy knot and sticks her head out of the tiniest possible crack in the door, fixing Wyatt with an imploring look. "Towel, please?"

"The towels are for after you get - "

"Towel, please," she repeats in the exact same tone of voice.

He huffs off for a moment, returning quickly with a towel in hand. She closes the door, wraps that towel very snugly around her frame, then emerges with a sigh.

"Let it be known that I'm dreading this," she gripes somewhat to herself while making a valiant effort to not ogle Wyatt as he stands there in nothing but a slim pair of dark swim trunks.

"Noted. Shall we?"

She makes it as far as the back door before she halts abruptly, the icy blast from the outdoors already creeping through the big sliding door before Wyatt even has it open.

"It's December. This is stupid. Why risk the good time we're having with a gamble for pneumonia and hypothermia and - "

"Give me your damn towel."

Lucy whips her head to the side to glare at him in disbelief, but he just goes in for the kill anyway. He untucks the towel for her, gives it a sharp tug, and amid her squawks of opposition, he's scooping her up into his arms and making a mad dash for the hot tub. Rufus and Jiya are cheering and whooping from inside the Jacuzzi, catcalling like two drunken maniacs, which might be the case in the not too distant future based on all the booze that they have lined up along the deck's upper ledge. It all happens in one dizzying, frosty, deliriously fun and so damn cold split-second, but that split-second is absolutely euphoric. And even though the whole thing feels about as distinctively reckless as Wyatt Logan gets, Lucy is relieved that he doesn't just plop her into the hot tub with a wicked splash, but instead takes care to get her suitably situated before he climbs in after her.

"Dude, that was awesome," Rufus says with a high five that Wyatt eagerly returns.

"I would have been inside till Easter if someone didn't move her along," he chuckles while easily blocking Lucy's attempt to smack his arm, not even turning his head to witness her intended attack as he wards it off.

"It's not so bad after a minute or so," Jiya says sweetly as she passes a glass to Lucy, reaching back for the bottle of champagne without needing to ask what she'll be drinking.

"It shouldn't be bad at all for someone who didn't have to walk across that icy-ass deck," Rufus teases with a grin.

He's right about that, but Lucy isn't adding any commentary to Wyatt's ridiculous - and endearing - antics, not when there's a good chance that she'll inadvertently end up saying something that will have her blushing and embarrassed.

Because she's still flustered, so so flustered by whatever the hell just happened.

So she takes a generous gulp of champagne and looks up at a low-hanging Christmas moon, hoping to erase the nagging desire that won't go away after having all of those stupid muscles enveloping her just moments ago.

She doesn't have a chance of succeeding though, not when he's crowding in next to her, reaching over to accept a beer from Rufus and barely backing up at all once he's got that beer in hand. And naturally Rufus and Jiya are looking adorably snuggly across from them, which only magnifies the sensation of Wyatt's arm coming to rest behind her. It's not long before Lucy forgets why she ever fought this idea to begin with, because the abrasive cold air and insecurity-inducing swimsuit just melts away into background noise as she tips back another mouthful of champagne and sinks into Wyatt's side.

It's Jiya's genius idea to start adding snow to their drinks, and then there's a whole game of seeing how fast varying amounts of snow can dissolve into the frothing water of the hot tub. Of course from that point it's only a matter of time until Wyatt escalates things by flinging actual snowballs at the rest of them.

Lucy squeals as she gets caught in the crossfire, snow streaming over her ear and down her neck. She wriggles in discomfort, nearly takes a dunk into the middle of the Jacuzzi when she begins to slip off the bench, but she hooks a hand around Wyatt's bicep just in time and propels herself back up onto the seat before she can go all the way under. He wraps her up in both arms and nuzzles his face into her hair, whispering conspiratorially, "You're on my team, okay?"

She turns her head, and her heart very nearly stops as her mouth brushes over the prickle of stubble on his cheek. "Okay, but only if we're making a run for it afterwards."

"Deal."

He backs away enough for his screaming blue eyes to lock in on her gaze, and she feels this wild dynamic charge pass between them just before he gives her a subtle nod. In a stroke of pure brilliance, Lucy dumps out the rest of the drink over the edge of the Jacuzzi and turns her champagne flute into a shovel, using it to dig up a bunch of snow from the windowsill behind her and catapulting the contents across the way at an unsuspecting Jiya.

"Go, go, go!" Lucy cries out before Jiya can rally, scrambling to get out of the Jacuzzi in a clumsy, thrashing free-for-all.

Wyatt grabs ahold of her from around the waist, hoisting her out of the hot tub just in time for a snowball to hit her square in the back.

"Oh, this is definitely war now," Wyatt roars, wheeling an arm back around to unleash another onslaught.

"No, abort mission!" she calls over her shoulder, skin tingling with the startling contrast from hot to cold, "move it, soldier!"

"Go, Lucy, I'll cover you!"

There's a booming litany of curse words sounding off from the hot tub as Lucy makes her slippery trek back to the sliding door, and based on the fact that all of the racket is coming from Rufus and Jiya, Lucy imagines that Wyatt is doing one hell of a job covering her retreat. He's tearing across the deck just as Lucy manages to get the door open, and he comes sailing through it with her, one arm cinching around her waist to steady her before they can go crashing into the nearest wall.

And then she laughs so hard and so long that she has to clutch her stomach to keep herself together. Wyatt finds her towel and bundles it over her shoulders, hugging her to himself and laughing right along with her. He looks like a gleeful little boy when he raises his head to meet her eyes, face ruddy and triumphant and too handsome for words.

"We really whipped 'em, Luce. Good work."

"Couldn't have done it without you," she replies a bit breathlessly. "Should we be planning our defense in case of retaliation?"

"Not a bad idea, but…" he leans to one side and peers past her, mouth tilting up into a smirk, "I don't think they're in the mood for revenge just yet."

Lucy pivots to catch a glimpse of what he's referring to, then hastily turns back to him with wide eyes. He's right. Rufus and Jiya are still in the hot tub, very entwined in each other without a single sign of retaliation in sight. "Nope. That's a mood alright, but not a vengeful mood."

Wyatt's thumb traces over her jaw, mopping up a wandering droplet of melting snow, then pulls back with a rough noise in the base of his throat.

"Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Let's hit the kitchen."

She's already put down a considerable amount of cookies during the movie and there's not really room for more, but she follows after him anyhow. His gaze keeps wordlessly straying over to her as he raids the cupboards. Her head must still be numb from the snow and the bubbly, because she's incapable of calling him out or teasing him; she's just content to stand there against the counter and appreciate his appreciation.

When she's finally able to pull herself out of the trance she's in, Lucy takes notice of the giant accumulation of snack food that he's assembled, as well as the two plates set out next to it all.

She lays a panicked hand across his wrist as he adds a bag of chocolate covered pretzels to the collection. "I don't know who you think is going to eat all of this, but it certainly isn't me."

He looks around at the rapidly-filling countertop and seems to just now see the insanity of what he's doing. "Wow, uh...you're right. This is a lot."

"Uh huh."

His eyes click back to hers, and she's not sure what sort of smile he's supposed to be sending her way, but there's an extraordinary amount of vulnerability in his expression. "I'm really not that hungry."

"Okay," she says slowly, following his every movement as he inches closer. "Then what's with all the food?"

Wyatt's attention dips lower to the towel that's still slung around her shoulders. "I, uh - "

That thought dangles, then comes to a screeching halt as a white blur explodes across the back of Wyatt's head. Another snowball flies toward them, but Wyatt is ready this time, yanking the fridge door open while simultaneously dragging Lucy with him so that they're both safely sheltered from the incoming barrage of snow. She tucks the towel tighter around her body, but it's no use - kneeling halfway into a refrigerator while wearing a still-damp swimsuit is so not worth the sacrifice.

She grabs the handle of a milk carton and waves the whole thing up above the door, proclaiming defeat with the only white flag that's within reach. "I surrender! We call for a cease-fire!"

"What?" Wyatt pulls her arm down as fast as he can, but she just passes the carton into her other hand and hoists it up a second time.

"Drop your weapons! We surrender!"

Wyatt regards her with a dramatic sigh and shakes his head in shame. "You're a disgrace to the cause."

She frowns up at him, completely unapologetic. "The cause is making me way too cold."

He looks as if he's about to suggest a vulgar solution to that problem, but he just cocks his head sideways and visibly chases away that unspoken thought. "Alright, cease-fire it is."

Once a truce is called and the two sides have made peace once more, the mood simmers into a softer, sleepier atmosphere. They all go their separate ways to change out of their swimwear, then reconvene to tidy up the kitchen before putting on some Christmas music and returning to the den.

Wyatt uses a lone index finger to outline the snowman pattern on her flannel pants once they're settled amid the blankets and pillows, his voice low as he says, "I like the PJs, Lucy."

"Thanks, if you actually mean that."

"What?" he chuckles incredulously. "Of course I meant that."

"I actually just bought them the other day...it seems that all my other Christmas-y pajamas were collateral damage in the shifting of alternate timelines." She squeezes a throw pillow to her chest and rushes through the next few words as quickly as possible. "Amy loved getting new Christmas pajamas, so I guess I must not own anything like this without her influence."

No one says anything right away. Rufus cuts his eyes over to Wyatt and Jiya opens her mouth to chime in, but Lucy speaks again before anyone else has the chance.

"It's alright, really. This - this night has been incredible, and I don't want to be sad about who I'm missing when I'm surrounded with so much love."

She makes a point of not looking at Wyatt when that particular L word spills out of her, but that's just juvenile and she knows it. She does love him, and he obviously he loves her. Even if nothing other than platonic love ever comes from this thing between them, her life has definitely become so much richer for just his friendship alone.

And although that thought is true through and through, the notion of a strictly platonic friendship is swept away much sooner than she could have ever predicted.

They're sprawled out across the air mattresses in the middle of the room, quietly trading stories about Christmases from years gone by, and now it's been a long time since Lucy has heard a peep out of either Rufus or Jiya. She's flat on her back, basking in the shine of endless snowflakes and twinkle lights above their heads. A big yawn rolls through her, causing Wyatt to smile down at her from where his head rests against his hand.

He glances over his shoulder, smirking as he twists back to face her again. "They're both out, sound asleep."

Lucy yawns again and runs a hand through her fanned out curls. "I'm not far behind them."

"I know," he murmurs affectionately, pulling a blanket up over her. "Merry Christmas, Lucy."

A corresponding Merry Christmas, Wyatt is right on the tip of her tongue, but he's lowering his face to hers before she can say a word, and then he's kissing her so warmly, so tenderly, that she can hardly believe it's real. How can any of this be happening? In what life does Lucy Preston find herself in a purely magical fantasy world, one that comes with a blue-eyed prince who has the ability to show up on her doorstep one night and whisk her away from all her troubles, gifting her with her very own winking wonderland in a snowy storybook cottage?

She touches her fingers to her lips as Wyatt withdraws slowly, and to her great relief, she's quickly reassured that this is no dream. His crinkly-eyed smile is very real. So is the light sweep of his hand in her hair. The familiar sonorous rumble of Rufus' snoring begins to pick up speed from the other mattress. There's a loud pop from the fireplace, which reminds Wyatt to go extinguish the flames and lock up the house. It's as enchanting as any fairytale, but the everyday details ground it in something so much more important, so much more lasting.

Lucy closes her eyes and curls up on her side. Those old visions of sugar plums are just about ready to start dancing through her head when she feels the mattress dipping from behind her. Wyatt snuggles in close, one arm stealing around her waist as he settles in for the night.

"Thank you," she whispers lazily. "For everything, Wyatt. Everything. It was perfect."

"You deserve it." He presses a lullaby of a kiss to the back of her neck. "You deserve the whole world, Luce."

For the first time in what feels like years, she's actually looking forward to waking up tomorrow so that she can take another step forward on this frantically disordered, bittersweet, unpredictable journey. She's learning to lean into the storm around her and enjoy the unplanned adventure, something that sounds so damn Amy-esque that she thinks maybe her sister isn't so far away after all.

And it's with the wish that Amy is home again in time for the Second Annual Christmas Eve Kidnapping that Lucy succumbs to a long winter's nap.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!