Marvey Secret Santa 2015 - Gift for godlike-beetheking
Merry Christmas, @godlike-beetheking!
Title: even the impossible is easy
Summary: The first Christmas after his Grammy had died, Mike went out drinking on Christmas Eve, trying to not deal with the fact that it was his first Christmas alone, and he went slightly overboard. The bartender called the most dialed number in his phone - Harvey - and Harvey had come and collected him and brought him back to his apartment. Mike had slept on the couch and spent Christmas Day there, recovering from his hangover and watching movies with Harvey.
This year would be the fourth Christmas they'd spent together.
Special Message from Santa: I was so nervous when I got your list of requests because they so weren't what I'd normally write but I stepped out of my comfort zone and I really hope you like the final result. :-) Merry Christmas!
Mike woke on Christmas morning to snow falling outside his window and the bed empty beside him.
He laid in the comfort of his warm bed for a long time, watching the falling snow. Though his relationship with Christmas had become complicated over the years, as a child it was his favorite day of the year. When he was a kid he and his parents lived in the suburbs, and he had vivid memories of playing in their snow covered yard; building snowmen and making snow angels and having snowball fights. His parents loved Christmas just as much as he did - maybe even more - and no matter what time he got up they were always awake already, making their traditional Christmas breakfast: French toast and crispy bacon smothered in maple syrup. For as long as Mike would live he would never forget the bright smiles on his parents faces throughout the day; when they all sat by the Christmas tree and opened presents, when they ate a deliciously home cooked dinner, when they cuddled together on the couch watching Christmas cartoons.
He was never so happy as he was with his parents on Christmas day.
When his parents died and he moved into the city to live with Grammy he lost all his Christmas traditions. That first year Grammy had tried to recreate the Christmas Mike knew, but the food didn’t taste the same and they had to walk twenty minutes to get to a decent park but there hadn’t been much snow fall anyway so it was all a moot point. It wasn’t the same, and trying to make it the same only made it worse.
So he and Grammy started their own traditions. Grammy had many amazing virtues which Mike would forever be grateful for, but cooking wasn’t one of them. Sure, she could put together lunches and dinners that were tasty and nutritious, but Christmas and all its trimmings was a bridge too far. They had Christmas lunch with Grammy’s best friend and her family, and it was nice, good people and yummy food, but Mike had always felt like an outsider, like it didn't matter many how many years passed or how much he liked these people he was still an intruder on their day. He liked their evenings better, when he and Grammy would travel into Manhattan and see the tree at Rockefeller Center and watch people ice skating and wander the city looking at all the lights and decorations and shop windows.
And then Grammy died, and he was alone in the world. Yes, he had Rachel and Harvey and his friends at Pearson Hardman, but it wasn’t the same. He’d lost the last person in his family, and nothing could make up for that.
Mike eventually made his way out of bed, stumbling into the kitchen and making coffee. He sipped it slowly before pulling out all the ingredients he needed for his breakfast. It still never tasted quite the same, and every year he wondered what secret ingredient his parents used to get theirs tasting just so, but his breakfast of French toast and crispy bacon didn’t make him sad anymore. It was an excuse to luxuriate in their memory, to remember all the good times, and it was painful and wonderful all at the same time.
When it was ready he sat at the tiny table by the window, fluffy flakes of snow still falling down outside, his steaming plate of food before him. He cut the corner piece of the bread and raised it mid-air in salute. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, hoping that somehow, somewhere, his parents and Grammy could hear him, and then he started eating, watching the snow continue to fall.
(continue reading on AO3)
