The following evening, walking into the precinct with his light up sweater blinking out "Kiss me under the mistletoe" in alternating green and red LEDs across the chest and a spring of actual, prickly mistletoe stitched to the knitted hem so it fell just above his waist, Connor felt better than he had in awhile. Especially with Mace at his side in his own matching shirt, black thread with the simple word "DON'T" cross stitched into it in bold, abrasive, capital letters right across his accentuated biceps were the unfortunate threads stretched tight against the broad muscles and clung to each other for dear life.
The detective hadn't been to a station Christmas party in years; but stepping into the DPD that Christmas Eve, the forgotten memories swept back to him in a warm flood, seeping into his veins to ward off the chill of the season and bring the beginnings of a smile to his face. Multicolored Christmas lights hung from the ceiling in heavy drapes and trimmed the edges of the office space to blink to a bright, joyous rhythm no one could hear, casting the whole room in their welcoming glow. A large, shimmering glass bowl filled to the brim sat atop one of the cleared desks in the middle of the room, the liquid inside snow white and too thick to see through, heavy and flat so it looked more like an ice rink had been poured into the bowl than an actual drink. Red, flowing ribbon hung from the desk but whoever had been charge of shouldn't have been as every drape was a different length than the rest and they'd rationed it wrong so the cloth only stretched to cover half of the table.
The rest of the station's employment wandered around the area slowly, just having come off the clock and not really settled into the swing of the festivities yet most likely. Captain Thorn was still there even, visible through the clear glass walls of her office where she could be seen gathering up her bag in preparation to head home for the evening.
Part of Connor wished he were preparing to head home for the evening too, wanting nothing more than to just curl on his couch against his android's side and flick on some crappy Christmas drama; but a stronger, more determined, part of him insisted that Mace deserved a better Christmas Eve than that. So, here he was.
"Yo, Connor, you actually came!" Jerome Booker's familiar voice met the detective's ears and he turned to see his friend coming toward them, broad smile set against surprised eyes. The man was wearing a simple red sweater with white cross stitch deers prancing around the hem, an inadequate choice beside Connor and Mace's own amazing attire if you asked the human in question.
"I thought you said you had something to do?" Jerome asked chipperly when he drew to a halt just in front of the pair, completely oblivious to the fact that he'd just blown Connor's cover as the detective felt the undeniable sensation of Mace's familiar is that so? eyes settle onto him, knowing they were gouging into his head without having to turn and see. Thank you, Booker.
"Yeah, well, it..." Connor began haltingly, carefully keeping his eyes on Jerome and not Mace's demanding orbs boring into the back of his skull like a drill from the advanced medical techniques of olden times. "Got cancelled." The human settled on stiffly, trying not to inwardly groan at how stupidly unbelieve it sounded to even in his own ears.
"Well, I'm glad you changed your mind." Booker blew right past the pathetic excuse with a warm smile, not even bothering to pretended he believed it for a moment. The detective would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the realness the man kept with him, never once dancing around his flimsy excuses or paper thin lies in all the years he'd known the officer.
"Me too." Connor lied flatly, letting his eyes flit around the room to try and convince himself of his own words as Jerome chuckled warmly and slammed his hand companionably into the detective's back, nearly sending the lithe male stumbling. It wasn't awful, just not exactly the first place he'd choose to be.
"Well, I better restock the coffee pot." Jerome dismissed himself prettily quickly after that, an awkward chuckle chasing his words that added nothing to their believability as he all but bolted the scene, face twisted into a stiff smile.
Connor was willing to wager a guess it had a whole lot more to do with the foreboding look he could still feel tearing through the back of his head than any actual coffee.
"Detective," Mace began slowly the moment Booker was gone, gravelly voice softer than Connor had anticipated. "If you didn't want to come-" The android tried to explain, LED pulsing a slow yellow and blue eyes confused as Connor forced himself to turn and look at his companion rather than at the floor as he would so like to. The unabashed concern painting the robot's expression made the human weak in the knees, a swelling bubble of guilt and conflict building up inside him as he struggled to find something to say and found nothing but sand filling his throat, rough and grating as he swallowed around words that didn't exist.
It was only a sudden, "Detective Everson, can I see you in my office?" from across the room that saved him, the words cutting Mace off mid sentence and bringing the conversation to an abrupt end.
Of course, saved was a relative term.
"Coming, Captain." Connor called back shortly, voice clipped and catching in his throat as he forced himself into motion towards the glass office, Mace on his heels.
Aurora Thorn was leaning out of her door, red painted nails holding it open for the detective as she pulled back so her body straightened and dark eyes fixed on the man, watching, waiting. Her hair was done up as usual and her professional dress was draped over with a scarlet one shoulder shaw for the season, the rich material silken and shining in the flashy lights hanging above her door. Her cold orbs narrowed as the pair approached and a frown pulled at her red painted lips, displeasure radiating off her like a tangible aura.
Connor nearly drew back at the harsh displeasure out of instinct; but he found himself pushing it aside easier than before now. He... Didn't need her approval. Nor her praise.
"Just Detective Everson, please." The woman corrected dryly, a flat look painted across her stern features as she staring pointedly at the android who'd followed his partner.
Connor's stomach gave an uncomfortable twinge but he caught the unsettled yellow of his android's LED out of the corner of his eyes and ignored the sensation in favor of pressing a reassuring smile in the machine's direction as he made sure his legs didn't falter.
Mace still looked unconvinced, LED a solid yellow and lips set in a minute frown as he stilled and watched the human take to the small flight of stairs but there was nothing much Connor could do other than stretch his lips a little farther in the stiff grin that felt flat on his face and give the robot a small wave. No wonder the android didn't look pleased, even Connor could feel how unconvincing the expression sat on his face.
The detective reluctantly let his gaze shift from Mace as he slid past where Captain Thorn still held the glass door open and into the room beyond, eyes flicking about to take in the sterile place in its dull grays and cold whites. In terms of decoration, the captain had switched her usual rose out for a poinsettia that leaned against the side of the small, blue vase perched at the edge of her desk, the red flower blossoming out brightly against the blank room. How festive.
"You wanted to see me?" The man prompted evenly, turning back around to meet the eyes of the woman still standing by the door, the thing falling shut behind her as she let her hand draw back to her side.
Aurora nodded slowly, bringing her arms in front of her to clasp one wrist over where her other hand held her purse, painted nails curling neatly over the dark strap of the sensible thing. "Connor," She began steadily, voice oddly careful. "I don't want you to come in tomorrow." She finally went on and Connor's stomach went for gold in gymnastics.
She was firing him? What had he done? His case quota was doing fine. He hadn't been late once all month. Hell, for some reason, Alec hadn't even gotten into a fight with him recently.
Something in his face must've alerted Thorn to the rollercoaster his guts had abruptly turned into because realization suddenly sparked through her eyes and a moment later a warm chuckle broke her lips, leaving the man confused as all hell. "I'm not firing you!" The captain assured hastily, eyes glimmering with amusement as Connor merely stared on in utter bewilderment.
Then he understood and his stomach started up the ride again. "I always take holiday shift!" The detective protested instantly, voice coming out sharper than he'd intended once he understood what he was being told.
"I know; but this year, you'll be taking off." Captain Thorn replied evenly, voice steady and certain and face set hard, leaving no room for debate.
"Captain," Connor tried insistently, fingers tightening at his side until his knuckles turned white with the strain of it. "I don't want..." He began but trailed off halfway through. He didn't want what?
He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to see his dark, empty house. He didn't want to be alone.
The detective's gaze trailed away from the police captain, looking past her and into the room beyond where Mace had stood at the edge of the crowd, engaged in some awkward looking small talk with Jerome but quite obviously lingering nearest the glass office he could get. This year he wasn't...
"Stay home, Connor." Aurora's voice drew the detective's attention back to the room and he turned to see her gaze following his, subdued smile playing at her lips. "Spend Christmas how it's meant to be spent, with people who love you."
He wasn't alone.