Good Cheer (L.C., Open)

[Ginny Campbell]

The path from the front door to the driveway was hidden by snow, but Ginny knew her way well enough to stomp confidently through, paper grocery bags in hand and messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Two snowmen sat side by side just to the right of the path; one of them was wearing a football helmet, the other a rather garish paisley tie stolen from James' wardrobe: Ginny had bribed Niko into nabbing it for her with several Hershey Bars more than her fathers would have approved of. She didn't care; little brothers were for bribing with candy and making snowmen with.

"Hold on a sec," She paused before the front door, which was currently home to a very large wreath, complete with holly berries and bow. "I know my key is in here somewhere..." She muttered, attempting to balance groceries on her hips while searching in her pockets for the key to the house. After a moment she emerged victorious, unlocking the door and nudging it open with her shoulder -- a task made more difficult because she was trying not to break the carton of eggs. Music drifted from the CD player in the living room to greet them; was her father planning on playing that thing all December non-stop? Probably.

She deposited the bags of groceries on the ground long enough to pull off her boots and sling her jacket and hat on the coat rack -- her father would be furious if she tramped snow any further than the snowman welcome mat in front of the door -- and leaned down to pet Milo, who had come to investigate.

"Kitchen's this way," She jerked her head in indication, marching past the living room, which looked smaller than it actually was because of the Christmas tree towering up toward the ceiling, old-fashioned train set snaking its way just far enough outside the gold-and-white tree skirt to avoid the tracks being clogged up by needles. Already presents had appeared, neatly wrapped; James' attempts to keep them from being more than a jumbled pile had already been made futile by Milo's fascination.

Of course, the festivities weren't limited to the living room: Silver garlands and white lights were twined down the banister, the runners on the tables displayed poinsettias and snowflakes, and every corner and shelf seemed to hold some grizzled nutcracker soldier or pious angel or jolly Victorian Santa. Even the washcloths in the kitchen were full of Christmas cheer, off white with red-and-green plaid trimming and Noel stitched lovingly across each. And this was James being less in the Christmas spirit than usual.

"....Milo, off." She chided; the feline had decided to follow the two girls, and the counter top had seemed like a good vantage point to see whatever they were doing in the kitchen. Ginny disagreed, shoving him unceremoniously onto the floor the moment she had free hands, ignoring the indignant Mraow directed at her. "You need something to carry them, there are plenty of tins, they're in the cabinet over the fridge." Her father would undoubtedly notice if one went missing, but he would get over it. Eventually.

The carols were still playing in the other room, and Ginny found herself humming along to Lo, How a Rose as she bustled about, pulling things from cabinets and drawers. Soon the kitchen counter was covered with all the cookie making necessities, from flour to eggs to rolling pins and mixing bowls. Plastic Christmas cookie cutters --Christmas trees, Santa hats, bells and reindeer, holly berries, snowmen and angels -- were piled beside tiny tubes of red and green sprinkles and tubes of frosting, white and light blue just as important as traditional green and red. There was no longer any room for a cat, and Milo seemed to recognize this, as he contented himself with snaking between their legs and glancing up at them with undisguised curiosity, occasionally pawing at an ankle with an accompanying meow in the hopes that whatever they were doing was edible.

"You don't like cookies, Milo." Ginny gently pushed the cat away from her with one foot, shooting an apologetic glance toward her friend, "Do you mind cats? I can lock him in the laundry room while we bake if you want."

[L.C. Milliner]

When Ginny had said overboard, L.C. thought it meant that James put a few balloons in his front yard and had a mantle full of snowmen. Maybe there would be a few Santa statues scattered about and the tree would have a bunch more ornaments and tinsel then it required. L.C. grew up in a moving house where ‘Christmas’ meant a two foot tall plastic tree that wouldn’t fall over when the trailer moved and wouldn’t get needles on the floor. Christmas meant a tiny wreath on the door, three stockings nailed to the wall. That was her ‘Christmas’.

Well, this was the house Christmas threw up on.

As soon as she entered the house, she was in awe. How could a forty-five year old man put up all of these decorations? Well, Mr. Kilbourne probably helped too, but nonetheless, how did the two teachers ever get the time to put up all this holiday junk? L.C. kicked off her shoes by the snowman welcome mat (yet another thing she had to stop and stare at) and padded her way in. She looked around in complete and utter amazement. “Oh my Jesus. Is that… Is that a real pine tree?” She looked after Ginny with eyes as wide as tea saucers. She had never seen a real tree before! People still bought the real stuff? As far as L.C. knew, she figured people used plastic because cutting down those trees was, like, illegal or something. She heard the carols on the radio and was impressed- Mr. Campbell wasn’t even home, was he? The place was so full of Christmas cheer she wouldn’t be surprised to find Santa setting up in the guest room. Good God. It was like every free space available to give to the holiday had something shoved in it. There was garland. GARLAND, TONY!!! Who does that?!

L.C. barely made it into the kitchen. She bumped on the doorway on the way in because the was looking at a nativity scene, and almost ended up knocking down a snowman that was nailed to the frame. She straightened it and looked to Ginny, her face contorted into a half smile, half disbelieving jaw drop. “And you said he does this… Every year? And he’s having a bad year?” She asked, still glancing around.

L.C. wasn’t sure what to do, so she started unloading the grocery bags, folding the empty ones up neatly for Ginny to put wherever. She wasn’t sure if James was one of those ‘Go Green’ guys, but if he was then she didn’t want to offend him by crumpling up a paper bag. She was in enough trouble already at school. She went to the cabinet she was directed to and pulled out two of the flatter, wider tins. She wasn’t going to have loads of cookies, at least, she thought not. One had a big snowman face on top, and the sides were white. It was simple, so it would do for Sean. The other had a big star with a nativity under it, which she would give to one of her few friends. Probably Anthony. He could use some cookies to fatten him up. “These fine? Or will your Dad miss them too much?” L.C. doubted it- he had a bunch already.

She noticed the cat for the first time and smiled. “Nah, he’s fine.” She bent down and extended a hand to him, petting his ears like she had seen people do with cats. She didn’t have much experience with felines, but she seemed to be doing great- the cat happily removed himself from Ginny’s legs and decided he’d rather weave around L.C.’s limbs instead. She picked at the holiday cookie cutters and picked out a few she liked- snowmen, stars, reindeer, presents, that sort of thing. She smiled at Ginny as she lined them up, watching her get the stuff out.

And then she was lost. “Er, Gin? You realize I’ve never made cookies before, right?” L.C. asked, looking at all the messy things Ginny was sitting on the counter- flour, eggs, sugar… Stuff she was never allowed to touch. L.C. had never cooked anything in her life that didn’t come out of an Easy Bake Oven. “I’ve never baked anything that required an oven.” This meant, in short, she had never baked anything. See? Easy bake oven kid.

[Ginny Campbell]

Ginny nodded, rolling her eyes affectionately at her father's holiday enthusiasm. "Yep. Every single year. Without fail. And this is definitely not all out. You should see the place on a normal year, he really goes crazy. It's great." She smiled in memory of all the Christmas's past, when white candles were on display in every window and Christmas throw rugs and pillows adorned every couch and love seat. Even the bathrooms would play host to candles (red and green rather than white) with Christmas-themed washcloths and bars of Christmas soap. This year those touches were gone; as much as she liked to give her father a hard time about his obsession she missed those little details. She was still worried about him; he still wouldn't tell her what had happened. He had better return to his normal state of overdecorating by next year.

She glanced over at the tins L.C. presented and shook her head in dismissal of her friend's fears. "No way, are you kidding? He has plenty." He would certainly notice they weren't there, because no small detail escaped him, but she would just tell him she needed them. He had plenty of others and it wasn't as if they weren't easily replaceable should he suddenly decide that he didn't have enough. "But if you ever need to get on his good side, Christmas junk is the way to go. Or horrid ties, he's fond of those, too, but if you encourage him there I'll have to stop being your friend. Trying to get him away from his questionable taste in fashion." How someone with enhanced perception could lack any ability to tell what was and what wasn't a hideous tie was beyond her, but somehow James managed. Sometimes she thought he sought out the worst ties he could possibly find on purpose.

"What?! Never? Oh." Ginny pondered this new bit of information for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly, "It's not that hard. Unless your name is Chase Kilbourne, in which case I don't trust you to microwave a poptart without burning it." Her step-father was the only person she knew who couldn't be trusted with anything involving the kitchen. She didn't think following a recipe could be that hard, but he could barely make even the most basic of foods for himself. She would trust him to pour his own cereal, but that was about the extent of his kitchen skills as far as she was concerned: She wouldn't even ask him to make her a sandwich without fearing for its edibility. While L.C. was certain not to be the baking prodigy Annie was she also couldn't possibly be as hopeless in the kitchen as Chase. "The only bad part about cut out cookies is that we'll have to leave the dough in the fridge for an hour before we can do the cutting out and decorating and baking part, but that's not hard, only annoying."

While the other girl paid tribute to a very smug Milo Ginny skipped over to the kitchen hutch, bending down to open the bottom doors and searching through the cookbooks until she found what she was looking for: a rather worn looking Christmas themed cookbook from the shelves and expertly flipped it open to the recipe she wanted; she'd made them often enough growing up that she almost didn't need the recipe. Almost. She definitely felt more secure having access.

She glanced over the first couple of steps before handing L.C. a bowl. "Mmkay, you dissolve the baking soda in the milk and I'll cream the butter and sugar and eggs." She decided. That seemed like a safe enough task for someone who had zero baking experience. Not that creaming butter and sugar was exactly difficult. "Then we'll add them together, then add the vanilla and the salt and flour. Then we'll refrigerate it for a bit and then we get to do the fun part." That left them with an hour to bum around while the dough cooled; maybe she would give her friend the grand tour of the Campbell-Kilbourne house. "And then we get to give them away! Or eat them, whichever." She laughed, peeling the wrappings off the sticks of butter and dumping them in the mixing bowl, followed by the required amount of sugar.

Baking was always more fun with someone else.

[L.C. Milliner]

L.C. didn’t even want to ask what the ‘all-out’ years entailed- she was content enough with what was already around. She surveyed a nutcracker in the corner with a suspicion, vowing that if anything sprang to life she would promptly tear it to bits without ceremony or a second thought. With all the Christmas spirit floating around she was almost surprised that the snowmen in the yard hadn’t waved hello or conversed with her. Now that would’ve been a spectacle to see. As it was, L.C. was a bit freaked out, if anything. Mr. Campbell seemed so normal when she had met him- now that she had learned he was a closet Christmas creeper, she wasn’t sure if she could look at him the same ever again.

The blonde sat the tins to the side, out of the way of their baking space. She made a note of where she put them, so she wouldn’t forget them later. “Yeah, I’ll remember that. His birthday is right after Christmas, right?” She wasn’t entirely sure, she had heard it over the announcements once or twice but had never really thought about it past the first year she had been at Hammel when she had given him a card that said ‘Thanks’ on it, because he was the one who had brought her. Maybe she should’ve got him something. “I’ll get him a nice tie, then. Maybe between the two of us we’ll knock some sense into him.” L.C. joked, laughing a little. She wasn’t one to talk- she had no fashion sense whatsoever, she just looked decent because she picked good things up out of a bargain bin. When a person had to shop in consignment stores for so long, they learned how to find good deals fast.

“Mr. Kilbourne can’t cook?” L.C.’s eyebrows arched in surprise at the idea- she always figured the trainer to be the kind of guy that could survive anywhere. The idea of him not even being able to microwave a pop tart was alarming, to her. She would have to tease the trainer about it the next time she saw him. It was only fair- he had gotten away with a lot as her trainer, it was about time she returned the favor. L.C. at least knew how to cook on a stove top- her diet consisted of a lot of noodles. She could use an oven to make boxed pizza or TV dinners, but she had never made anything from scratch- just the stuff with instructions. She had been self-reliant before she had even come to Hammel when it involved cooking- her Mother often couldn’t be bothered and her brother had a habit of eating everything in the house before she could even reach it.

“That does sound annoying.” L.C. muttered, watching Ginny go to get a cookbook. She had seen cookbooks but had never used one before- again, she had only cooked things with instructions already printed on them. The teen leaned over the counter to read and felt lost. Three cups flour? Half teaspoon vanilla? Vanilla what? Ice cream? And what the hell was baking soda? How did you dissolve it? What was the bowl for?! L.C. stared at Ginny for a moment and nodded slowly, trying to comprehend what all the stuff on the counter was for. “Okay. So... Milk. Right.” L.C. muttered, grabbing the cold jug from the counter and twisting the cap open. She pulled the ring off the lid and put it on the floor for the cat to play with. Milo gleefully started batting it around the kitchen floor and left L.C.’s legs alone. She picked up a measuring cup from its place on the counter and, after glancing at the instructions, filled it to the line it was supposed to go to. She realized what the bowl was for and poured the milk in the bowl, feeling good about this so far. She grabbed the box labeled baking soda and opened it, pouring it to reveal powder. “Wait, what? This isn’t soda...” L.C. looked at the box and to the power in the bowl that looked suspiciously similar to cocaine. Ginny wasn’t secretly a drug pusher, was she? A little uneasy, L.C. shook out the right amount, and, double-checking to make sure all was well, poured it into the bowl with the milk. She grabbed a spoon to stir it, feeling her confidence build as she looked at Ginny.

“Hey, this baking stuff isn’t hard at all.”

Oh, L.C., why’d you have to jinx yourself...?

[Ginny Campbell]

"Mmmhmm." Ginny nodded, adding eggs to her mixture, "but it might as well be on Christmas. Least then he'd have an excuse..." She didn't actually mind his Christmas obsession; it was kind of fun showing off his cabin and watching the amazed looks on the faces of unsuspecting guests. Besides, she figured Christmas was one of the better holidays to be passionate over. It could have been worse; he could have been obsessed with Lent. She shuddered at the thought. Forty days of fasting? She attended Mass weekly but she sure wasn't devout enough to take Lent seriously. Thank goodness her father had chosen Christmas as his favorite holiday.

She snickered at L.C.'s offer to buy her father a tie. "You think I haven't tried? He'll find some awful, clashing shirt to wear with it, thus ruining your effort." James' ability to mismatch clothing was nothing short of remarkable; Ginny didn't think it was possible for another human being to replicate his fashion...sense...if they tried. "Just stick with Christmas junk and he'll be thrilled, and besides, it'll all be on sale after the holiday."

"He's a disaster in the kitchen," Ginny confirmed with an exasperated sigh at her step-father's culinary incompetence. "If a recipe can be messed up he will find out how. Good thing he knows this and stays out of the kitchen. Usually. If he's in here then something serious is going on, like the Apocalypse or else he found dad's secret candy stash and is going on a raid. You know, important things like that."

She glanced toward L.C., who looked uncertain; she almost went over to help but then the other girl began following her instructions with visibly growing confidence. Good. She had figured L.C. would be more than capable of figuring out the directions even without any prior experience. This was a fairly easy (if time consuming) recipe and L.C. was smart.

"Oh, no, it isn't soda pop soda, it's baking soda. Some recipes call for baking powder instead. I think you're mostly safe switching them out, but there's supposed to be a difference. I don't remember what it is, though," She admitted, stopping her mixer once she'd decided her ingredients looked appropriately creamed. "I'll ask Annie, I'll bet she knows." With all the cupcakes she baked she ought to.

She tilted her head to one side with a small grin as she watched Milo batting around his new toy. She would have to pick that up later or her father would be annoyed, but for now she was enjoying his cat's fascination with the plastic ring. "Nope! It isn't. We should do it more often, it's fun and tasty and if you need a gift nobody ever turns down baked goods. And if we can get Annie to join us," as if there was any doubt the cheerful red-head would, "then she can help us frost everything all fancy." Her college friend had attempted to teach her how to decorate baked goods prettily but Ginny had a difficult time getting the frosting to come out of the tubes the way she wanted it to. That was fine most of the time, but when Annie was around why not use her expertise?

"Great! I'm done, how 'bout you?" She looked over to see how the other girl was doing with her part of the prep work. "Time to add them together, you think?" She snaked out a hand to gather up the rest of the ingredients, ready to add everything together just as soon as L.C. confirmed she was finished.