→ i don't want a lot for christmas, there is just one thing i need

[creatio]

CHARACTERS: Barbie House Residents & You.
LOCATIONS: That pink little number where superpowered girls live.
WARNINGS: None in post, please let me know if I need to change that.
SUMMARY: Ugly sweater party time.

( If you know Kimberly and Clary at all, then you'll know there's been a festive treat in the works for a while. People will have received their personally designed invitations during the week, but neither of them have been shy in mentioning the party while wandering the city laden with shopping bags. The house is suitably decorated - enough mistletoe to potentially be a biohazard - but with a little help from the world's best ( and most stylish ) warlock Magnus Bane, it's definitely looking the part. And if it's a little small, well outside is covered in lights too, an army of space heaters dotted in their garden to make things as cosy as possible.

There's multiple flavours of punch, though be wary of the one that smells overwhelmingly of gingerbread, someone was a little heavy handed with the liquer. If that doesn't float your boat then the living room table is laid out with different drinks and snacks, some more festive than others. Eat, drink, be merry. And if you hear Blue Christmas at any point in their festive playlist, please track down Baby and give him a hug ( or a drink ... or one of those sprigs of mistletoe. )

The only rule ( and it's definitely a rule ) wear a Christmas sweater or suffer the wrath of women scorned. Though maybe not something with tassles or baubles, Simba might be after them. )

Comments

[killertrack]

Do I, now?

[ He remembers that he does, though - their very first date, and a promise of more dancing then that never materialized. So he pulls out his phone, connected to the house's wifi, and scrolls through the playlist he put together for the party. After a moment, he smirks, as he taps on a song, the music immediately switching to Jingle Bell Rock.

Then, he holds his hand out to Kimberly. ]

Will you do me the honor?

[recoined]

( it's a fun choice, upbeat and cheerful. it's all the emotions she wanted this party to give baby. as a result, there's zero hesitation in kimberly's agreement to take his hand, or to follow him out of the hallway and into the open space of the living room. )

You know it. ( she might be a little eager. ) You know you're my favorite dance partner.

[killertrack]

You flatter me, I'm really not that good.

[ And even if he is a better dancer than Robbie, Baby is sure she finds dancing with her actual boyfriend to be a better experience. However, he knows what she's doing - making Baby feel better, just. Being a good friend. And for that, he can only be grateful.

He spins her on the small, makeshift dancefloor, before pulling her to him, one of her hands in his, the other on her waist. ]

How's Christmas for you, back home? Fun?

[recoined]

Eh. ( the nonchalant response applies equally well to both statements, really. she enjoys being with her boyfriend, sure. she wouldn't be dating him if she didn't. but he's not exactly a saturday night fever kind of guy, and beyond the city-hosted ball a few months back, she hasn't had many opportunities to force him to practice. baby, on the other hand, is actually good at dancing. so, yeah. he's her favorite dance partner thus far. ) You're better than the other guy on my dance card, anyway.

( as far as christmas is concerned, however, kimberly's less homesick about it as a season. her head comes to rest against his chest as they sway, loose curls of her hair waving back and forth with each turn. )

It's fine for winter break, I guess. Mostly just my mom trying to one-up all the other PTA moms, trying to have the best family picture or wrapped gifts or whatever. It was never really anything worth writing home about.

( a small shrug of her shoulders. ) It wasn't, like, Leave it to Beaver or anything.

[killertrack]

[ Baby laughs, raising an eyebrow at Kimberly. ] On my 2018 to-do list: teach Robbie how to dance.

[ In his head flashes the image of him and Robbie trying it out in their living room, between the piano and the pool table, Baby giving Robbie tips on counting steps. It's a ridiculous image, but it warms his heart all the same. ]

I get that. Christmas at home wasn't anything too special either. The last few years, I haven't even been home for most... always on a job. Making the most of empty stores and empty streets.

[recoined]

Oh yeah? Well, good luck. ( and he'll need it too. but if anyone can teach the man to shuffle his feet without crushing hers, it's baby. the music flows too well within him for him to not be a good dancer. ) Let me know how it goes.

( the song shifts, eventually, from jingle bell rock to some smooth crooning version of baby, it's cold outside; baby's hand shifts, as if to spin the metaphorical ipod wheel towards another song, but she reaches out to still it. leave it on, she doesn't mind something slow. it's comfortable, lingering close like this to him, without any questionable intentions or nerves between them. just their friendship, warm and sure, and the gentle caress of the music around them. )

Like tonight? ( with the snows lately, she hasn't seen many cars on the road. even the trolley's been stilled for the evening by a bank near the center of the city, its cheerful ringing quieted temporarily. ) Maybe we could go for a drive again sometime. Have that picnic you promised me?

[killertrack]

Have I ever told you, what I used to do, back home?

[ He's not sure he has, and it feels like something she deserves to know. If she wants to be his friend, she should know how... not good of a person he used to be.

He brings their joined hands to his chest, pressing the back of her hand against his heart. ]

Not quite the weather for a picnic, but you just have to ask. I'm always up to go for a drive. Especially now. I'm sorry if I've ever blown you off, before.

[recoined]

You drove. ( but something in the way he asks her tells her that's not really the answer. in the same way that "i was a cheerleader" isn't the truth to her own story. it's honest, but there's something very important left out. ) Something tells me it wasn't a taxi.

( the weather is pretty garbage outside. that's not untrue. but if anyone can handle the roads, it's baby. )

We could just drive around, maybe have a picnic in the backseat instead?

( she offers a squeeze to his hand, gentle but firm all the same. he doesn't have anything to apologize for. )

[killertrack]

Yeah, I drove. [ He swallows around the lump in his throat, the beat of his heart picking up. ] I was a getaway driver.

[ It's the simplest way of explaining what he did. Who he was. A criminal. A criminal that helped other criminals get away with their crimes.

There are times, times like right now, where he feels like he should be judged harshly, for never taking a stand until the very end. Until it was too late. And now her touches, soft and reassuring and friendly, are making him feel like he doesn't quite deserve them. ]

If you still want, yeah.

[recoined]

( she could judge him. she could make a face and pull away and decry his choices as an accomplice in something probably not so great — bank robberies come to mind, with masked men waving big guns and duffel bags around before they pile into a waiting car. but what's the point? one bad choice, one bad life... she winds up echoing jason, because she can't think of any other way to say it. )

You did an awful thing, that doesn't make you an awful person. ( a wry smile; she'll have to remember to tell him how well his hallmark channel advice came in handy here. ) Just be the person you wanna be.

( this time, her fingers tangle in with his, a bit more intent in the reassurance she's offering. )

I'm not going anywhere. We're all screw ups, you know? That's why we're here.

( and maybe one day, she'll feel brave enough to share her own reasons. )

[killertrack]

You don't get it. [ Because she doesn't, if she thinks it's one bad thing. It's not one bad thing, It's a lot of bad things, one after the other, just because what? Because he was an angry kid? Nowadays, it feels like the worst kind of excuse. ] I did a lot of bad things. Over years, and years. I didn't try to get out, even though I knew. I knew they were terrible things.

[ He remembers a few things from his drunken talk with Jo, and be who you wanna be resonates with that, with him thinking he could be Miles now, and not just Baby. Without the haze of alcohol, it seems harder to achieve. ]

I'm trying. I'm really trying. I'm trying to be the person my foster dad thought I could be. An upstanding kind of guy. That's why I'm here, to make up for all the bad things.

[recoined]

It doesn't just... happen, you know. Being a better person, it's not like you wake up and you're suddenly somebody else. ( which sounds funny, to kimberly, because isn't that what happened to her in a way? she woke up, and things were completely different. but she wasn't. she was still herself, still left with all those terrible things she'd done in her past, and left to fix it. baby would have to do that too. ) It takes time.

( she pauses for a moment, peering up at him as if it'll help her read all the muddled thoughts in his head. )

If it helps, I really like this guy. Whoever he is, whatever he's done, I like him. He can stay.

[killertrack]

[ He can't help the half smile that appears on his face when she mentions liking the person he is. He wish he could show her - show her exactly the kind of coward he'd been in the past, too scared to try to get out from under Doc's thumb, even when he could. He doesn't feel like he deserves it, but should he look a gift horse in the mouth? Or should he just enjoy it, Kimberly's friendship, her gentle words and her support, when he's already feeling like half the person he used to be, a mere few weeks ago?

It might be cowardly, too, but he doesn't feel like he could turn her away, right now. He needs her. ]

It does take time. I've got 10 years of making up to do. I guess I'm going to be here for a long time.