Work Text:
I’ll be home for Christmas // you can plan on me // please have some snow and mistletoe // and presents by the tree
I’ll Be Home for Christmas – Bing Crosby
The halls of Chastain Park Memorial Hospital felt different this year. The 25th day of December had been a day circled on the calendar for years, marked as one without expectations. No meetings, no obligations, and very few faces wandering the halls that he had made his own. It was a day of solitude that for years he had looked forward to. But this year, Randolph woke up in an empty bed not usually empty, poured one mug of coffee instead of two, and turned left out of the driveway wishing that he turned right instead.
Kit had been in the suburbs for two days and now that he was stuck working on Christmas morning, he was beginning to see why so many circled this day as one to spend with family. Last year felt much the same as it always had; the day arrived only four months into their relationship, so he did not accompany her annual trip to Molly and Derek’s house for the holiday, instead working his usual shift and taking on the role of Santa Claus for the pediatric patients. But this year felt different. Emptier.
Having deferred that role to another surgeon with a booming voice and a meticulously well-kept beard, Randolph was left to stare at the clock and, for the first time in his life, hope that nothing would prevent him from making the drive this evening. Kit had insisted that spending the day itself with him was not important and they could celebrate any day, but he knew the weak reassurance was entirely for his sake in case something did keep him at the hospital.
“I just want to be with you when you are done working,” she had said on Monday, “and for you to know that you are welcome any time.”
Even now, he could picture the soft smile on her face. Sixty hours was already long enough to be without her, and he was going to do everything in his power to be with her and her family as soon as he could.
A calendar reminder chimed and he retreated to his office. Ten thirty: video call with Josephine, it read. He smiled at the reminder from Molly’s e-mail address, imagining the youngster correcting her mother and insisting on adding the nickname that only he was allowed to use.
Right on time, the screen illuminated and he sat forward on his desk to accept the call.
Randolph had anticipated a certain chaos to the decorate the conversation, the result of gifts, sleeplessness, and chocolate chip pancakes, and was met with just that. Josie insisted on showing nearly every gift to the camera, but failed to account for the effects of the rapid movement on her conversation partner.
Before he could speak up, a familiar voice filled the background of the call.
“Jo, darling, maybe we can try holding the phone or the gifts, not both at the same time. Why don’t we put Randolph over here,” Kit said.
She positioned the phone to rest against a stack of something in the corner of the living room. Most importantly, he was finally stationary, and could allow his eyes to refocus on the scene.
Kit glanced towards the phone and winked. “Better?”
“Exponentially,” he replied, blinking away the dizziness and adding a silent, “Thank you.”
From this vantage point he could see the entire living room. The tree was lit up in one corner and the fireplace along the back wall was in the distance, still decorated as before. Josie had lost interest in continuing the conversation and had moved on to one of the building sets left under the tree, but he was more than happy just being a virtual part of Christmas morning at the Ingrams house.
The term in-laws glanced his mind for the first time in nearly twenty years, sounding sweeter than it ever had.
He sat back in his office chair and before long, he was once again on the move. This time with a bit more control. Kit turned the camera back to her and found a seat in the armchair by the fireplace. She wore an absolutely gorgeous sweater, a dark emerald turtleneck that must have been a gift from the morning, and was smiling into the distance.
Even through the screen he found himself equally lost in the magic of the morning.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, still somewhat lost in the daze. “I love you in green.”
A blush spread over her cheeks and she smirked towards him. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that it covers my collarbones.”
Randolph craned his neck to the side and fought a blush of his own. The memory of last weekend swept through him and his voice took on a roughness that could only be brought out by one person. “Nothing at all,” he answered.
“Are you sure?” She asked, tugging at the neckline and revealing one of the marks that was finally beginning to heal.
“Now you’re just being mean,” he growled.
Kit shifted in her seat and changed the subject back to something more civil, as younger ears began to pick up pieces of the conversation. “Do you think you’ll make it back for dinner?”
“I’m going to try. I’m on call until three, but Christmas isn’t as bad as Thanksgiving, so if all goes well, I’ll be there around five.”
“You do know that what I said on Monday still applies?”
He nodded to acknowledge the question, but was more focused on the new backdrop of the video. He had a clear view of the fireplace and counted one, two, three, four… five stockings. Three on one side and two on the other. The farthest one from him had RAND visible before the fold of the fabric, and he knotted his eyebrows. “Hey, Kit?”
“Yeah, love.”
“Why is there a stocking with my name above the fireplace?”
Kit glanced back to the fireplace and the knitted stockings, no two perfectly matching but all clearly handmade, and focal points of the holiday. Hers was the most worn, followed by Molly’s, which bore close resemblance to those belonging to Derek and Josie. But there was another, one with colors similar to hers, hanging beside it and bearing his name.
She smiled and held the phone a bit closer. “I thought I told you about this,” she said quietly, “but your face tells me otherwise.”
“Did I ruin a surprise?”
“No, I think I did,” Kit laughed. “I have been working on it for a month and finished just in time. I could have sworn I told you.”
“I would have remembered that. Wait… you made it?” When she nodded and turned the camera towards the fireplace, his jaw dropped and he brought a hand to his chin, leaning towards the scene in his phone. “I… wow. I knew you could knit but this… this is incredible. You are incredible.”
Randolph looked so at home at Chastain, the mid-morning sun in his office catching in his smile, white coat donned like a superhero cape, but she wished that he were here for all of the day’s activities. He was still scraping for something to say, but the look on his face spoke for him. It always had.
“There is a stocking with your name on it because you are my family, Randolph.”
For a long moment all he could do was stare into the soft, honest brown eyes behind the screen in disbelief. He had never felt so loved as he did with Kit, and every time he thought that there was no possible way he could feel more loved, she did something like this. It rendered him entirely speechless, his heart caught in his throat and blocking any response.
Just as he was about to speak, the pager on his desk sounded.
“Shoot,” he muttered, trying to silence the noise. Kit laughed in the background, the small moment of Christmas magic interrupted by something they both knew well.
“Go, darling. Go save lives. I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll call you if anything comes up.” He turned his attention back to the phone after checking the message. “Love you.”
“Merry Christmas, Randolph.”
He pulled into the driveway just after five o’clock, thankful for the slow day at work for the first time in his life. In one hand were a few last-minute gifts and bottles of wine and slung over the other shoulder was a small duffel bag to last the remainder of the long weekend.
Before he had a chance to open the front door himself, Josie was announcing his presence to anyone within earshot. It must have been Christmas because he did not even care about the flour or sugar coating her hands and the cashmere sweater when he lifted the girl into his arms. Soon she would be too big for it, but for a few seconds he could make the memories count.
Walking into the unfamiliar house in the suburbs brought with it a feeling in his stomach that he had not felt in years. It was almost like stepping back in time to when he was just a boy and walking into his grandmother’s house. The smell of something roasting in the oven and the warmth from the fire burning wrapping paper from the morning were an unmistakable reminder of holiday cheer and home.
Josie was still at his side, thoroughly debriefing the morning’s activities and the current status of the sugar cookies being prepared alongside dinner, and finally Randolph was able to greet the other two adults who had been expecting him and get a full sentence in.
“Okay, munchkin, where’s grandma?”
“Upstairs! Are you going to help mom and me with cookies?”
“In a little while. Upstairs, you said?”
“I think she’s looking for something, but we don’t know what,” Josie shrugged and turned back to the icing and sprinkles.
“Maybe I can help,” Randolph offered, looking towards the stairs.
Molly smiled at the man in the kitchen, the one who brought wine and gifts and had a stocking with his name above the fireplace, searching for only one thing. She put a hand on his shoulder and nodded in that direction.
“I think she escaped the noise for a bit,” Molly said quietly. “The guest bedroom is to the left.”
The door was slightly ajar and he knocked twice before making his way inside. Kit was reading comfortably on the bed, green sweater and all, her hair still tied back like it was this morning.
“Hey,” she said with a smile, “You made it.”
It was like he had walked into a dream. There was nothing he could do but follow the soft, silky sound of her voice.
“I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
He took a seat on the edge of the bed beside her. “Over the commotion downstairs, I’m not surprised.”
Kit slid down over the pillows and stretched, unintentionally lengthening her body and putting it fully on display, but Randolph was uninterested. Instead he peeled the glasses from her face and set them on the nightstand beside the book, and returned the quiet smile that had become a default state now more than ever, especially when it was just the two of them.
It was Christmas day, and he shortened his shift so that he could drive across town to the suburbs and have dinner with her family. He was here with her family because he is her family.
Few things were more magical than that.
A small bag was dangling from one of his fingers and curiosity took hold. She tried to peer into the opening, but he pulled the bag away and offered a small box from the top instead.
“This one first,” he said.
There was no wrapping paper and the box itself was recycled from a supply closet at Chastain. It piqued her interest even more than it had already and Kit lifted the lid, letting out a single stifled laugh at its contents. She shook her head as he helped to hold the lid, allowing her two hands to hold what was inside.
“Seriously?”
He grinned. “Yes.”
“Did you intend for me to open this when we were alone?”
“That was luck,” he shrugged. “It was a last-minute addition as I was leaving this afternoon.”
Kit knew exactly where the last-minute inspiration had struck. The greenery was hanging in the recovery wing, about halfway between his office and the elevator, carefully placed by her earlier in the month.
“Stealing from work and bestowing the contraband to your superior is awfully risky, Dr. Bell.”
He raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice. “That is part of the allure.”
She swatted his arm gently and followed his eyes downward, tracking her lips. Kit sat up taller on the bed, bending one knee to remain in his space, and held out the box. “Mistletoe, darling?”
“I am in love with a woman who loves Christmas, and have been thinking about kissing her all day.” He removed the branches and held it above her head. “Now that I’ve obliged her ridiculously silly insistence on abiding by tradition… I can.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to take the greenery away, but Randolph did not move. It seemed that the only way to have what she had been thinking about all day was to relent. Her hand curled around his knee and she pressed her lips softly to his, the smile giving way to an unspoken promise.
“You didn’t need any mistletoe for that,” she whispered against his lips, “all you had to do was be here.”
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and stayed close. “I will always come home to you.”
“That is the only thing I want. Christmas and every day.”
“I wish you’d told me that before I bought all these pr—”
His sentence was cut off by a shove of his shoulder and a chuckle, but the change in balance allowed for him to rest both hands on the mattress on either side of her hips.
“For the record,” he said quietly, inching closer to her lips and dropping his voice, “coming home to you is the only thing I want, too.”