who john [ten] & cindy! what christmas gift giving! where his office when christmas eve! warnings very PG status complete!
The shoes, those red Converse sneakers, were no longer on display to be admired. For weeks and weeks, John Smith had gazed longingly at the shiny beauties and yet he never bought them for whatever reason - however, his interest in them had been noted by the FBI agent posing as a store owner, and she’d kept them just in case. But as more time passed, it’d been less like dangling a carrot and more like...she should just take the damn things off the shelf and gift them to the poor man.
Yes, those shoes. Those shoes. They were in a box, carried to UCI where Cindy knew John had an office and was likely hunkered down in. She planned to surprise him, hoping his workaholic nature meant he was toiling away on something or another for the upcoming semester.
A short drive later, she had parked in the visitor’s lot and gotten directions to his building (this campus was huge). Cheerfully, she wandered inside to find the correct office number and when she arrived, knocked on the door with a shave and a haircut greeting. All the while bouncing in her red boots (the ones from her dreams - they were a little magical, which she’d show him if he was interested) and looking pretty jolly.
Those shoes, those wonderfully confounding shoes had eluded him. Every time John popped in to see Cindy, he lingered near them and came so close to buying them, only to put them back and get something else. He couldn’t sort out why he wanted them. The shoes didn’t go with anything in his professor-like wardrobe, all suits and tweed.
And yet, he thought they would go marvelously with every suit he owned--even the tuxes!
True to form, John was huddled away in his office with a space heater near his feet to keep away the cold. He wasn’t expecting visitors, had given no word that he would be at the office at all that day; so, he was pleasantly surprised when he heard a knock on the door. Sliding his glasses back up his nose properly, he rose to answer the door.
Greeting Cindy with a surprised, but wonderfully warm smile, John opened the door fully and laughed, “Cindy! Hello! What brings you here!” Oh, was that a gift? Looking from her to the parcel she carried, his enthusiasm faded into curiosity. “Playing Santa for the day?”
“Something like that,” she grinned, as always, pleased as punch at the reaction she got from the man. He was always so effervescent, with such a vigor and zest for life. It was difficult to deny that type of enthusiasm. “Consider it a Christmas present. If Christmas is your thing. I realize it’s not everyone’s.”
Stepping further into the office, she set the wrapped shoebox (it even had a red bow atop, as the crowning glory) on John’s desk. “Anyway, enjoy. I figured it’s long overdue.” Hopefully he wouldn’t mind that she’d finally just taken it upon herself to purchase those shoes for him - he already knew they fit, they were in his size, it was completely cosmic. “Oh, love Christmas!” He practically beamed, standing aside so she could come inside the much toastier office. “Doesn’t get much better than the holiday season, it’s amazing!” Of course, John was something of a special snowflake in his ability to find joy in every inane little thing. He liked to believe his love of Christmas (flourishing now for reasons he didn’t consciously acknowledge) had always been present, but really it was in full mode this time around for his recent experiences.
Hands in his pockets, John looked from the gift and back to Cindy. He hadn’t come to work prepared to give gifts to anyone, though she had been on his list of people to get something for--he lamented not having it on him! She was one of his favorites, but he’d find a way to make it up to her.
“Do I open it now?” He asked eagerly, exuberant as a child.
“Now’s good,” she nodded, finding it hard to deny such Christmas joy. Why bring a gift and then make him wait? That’d just be rude! Cindy really was excited to see the look on John’s face when he realized that those Converses were finally his. Forever and ever. And if anyone understood the appeal of a good pair of shoes, it was Cinderella.
Sticking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, she couldn’t resist the wide smile that crossed her face - pretty sparkly and ‘holly jolly’ herself - as she bounced a little on her toes, giddy in a stupid way. Ugh. Sentiment. But Cindy was no stranger to such things, what with her and her stupid big heart. Damnit.
“You’re gonna love them, I promise.”
Wriggling his hands above the package, John had to restrain a giggle at being given permission to open it right then and there. He still felt awfully rude not having anything to give in return, but he would, and that was the most important thing.
The buildup to what rested inside the package enthused John all the more. Not waiting a second longer, he tore carefully into the paper. So carefully that he hardly ripped an edge, at first. It didn’t take him long to let the pull of the holiday spirit urge him to shed the paper and reveal the box. With only minimal embarrassment, he gave a slight gasp, then opened the box up to show those shoes.
Those wonderfully red and not-at-all-him, but somehow very much him, shoes shot another giggle right up his throat. Lifting them up, one on each finger, his giggle turned into one, short laugh of triumph.
“Hah! Look at that! Had enough of me fawning over them every visit?” He teased, obviously beyond grateful for the gift. John would be wearing them as often as he could once that snow disappeared. Setting them back down daintily in the box, he circled back around his desk to hug Cindy one more time.
“You’re brilliant, you are! Have I said that before?” He asked as he pulled back, patting her shoulders for a moment. “Thank you, Cindy, really!”
Aw, John’s reaction was priceless. Cindy laughed too, and if she were a Scrooge then surely her anti-Christmas defenses would have melted into mush right then and there. As it was, she couldn’t see how anyone couldn’t like giving gifts if the reaction was similar to that. “Figured you finally needed them,” she admitted, returning the hug when one was given to her - yep, the friendly squeezes from this guy were familiar, and also good at perking up her day even when she needed about 2.5 more cups of coffee to function.
“I mean, they’re not exactly magical, like mine - “ A coy glance down at her red boots, which were a daring, vibrant candy apple shade. Ankle boots, not ones that climbed for miles, with a relatively modest chunky heel. “But they should still do the trick, whatever you intended them for. So you’re totally welcome, and Merry Christmas.”
He could have picked her up and spun her about the room in his enthusiasm, but with anyone not named Rose, John seemed to be keenly aware of proper boundaries. Ever since coming to the OC and forming a bond with Gwen, his Christmases hadn’t been as droll and uneventful as they were in England. His family hadn’t been known for their festive ways, they were the textbook traditional posh family with enough arrogance to corroborate it.
Needless to say, John had been a bit of the odd duck out in that regard, and all he had really needed to overcome it was to put that all behind him. So, he never went home. Sometimes, on his darkest days, he pretended they were gone.
“I did need them,” he beamed away at her, circling back to lift up the shoes excitedly. “Look at them! Haven’t got a single outfit to pair them with, but what does that matter? They’re brilliant!” It felt like some sliver of himself had suddenly been pieced together, and he couldn’t explain the reasoning.
“They’re what?” He asked abruptly, bespectacled eyes darting back to her in confusion. “Magical?” Had she mentioned that before? John’s head was far too cluttered to retain everything people told him, but he’d like to believe this was something he would recall. Then again, anything veering off the deep end of normal tended to be outright denied. “Do you mean literally magical, or are you joshing me?”
After everything they’d discussed, he had a feeling she was very serious.
Oh, quite serious indeed. “They’re from...the dream fairy,” Cindy stated, a laugh of disbelief bubbling up and breaking free. Sometimes even she still had to boggle at the state of her life here in the OC, but it was still home. More so home than she’d ever felt about Georgia, where she’d been raised, and that’s why she and Garrus were working behind the scenes to keep their dysfunctional home away from the prying eyes of the FBI. Sort of as FBI double agents themselves; it was tricky, but necessary. They used their undercover agent positions to do some good for Orange County.
She perched on the edge of John’s desk, tucking one knee over the other and wiggling one foot. “I mean, I dreamed about them first,” she clarified. She knew John dreamed as well, but he wasn’t very forthcoming - tight lipped, in fact. Cindy never pushed. “I wanted them really badly.” In fact, she’d pushed Dorothy out of an airship to get them - because they fit Cinderella better, come on, she was naturally the shoe queen anyway.
“But they act as sort of a teleportation device. Can bring me anywhere, as long as I’m wearing them. And they help me assume disguises. I can show you?”
A dream fairy. First people were invisibly tethered to someone else inexplicably, then came those frightening dreams he’d experienced, and now he was being told of the existence of a dream fairy. Attempting to suspend disbelief, John slumped into his seat, shoes on his lap, and stared up at Cindy as she delivered a much needed explanation.
He liked that he could count on her to give him information straight. She had the sort conviction that didn’t seem like a farce. It made him want to believe in the strange things that happened wholeheartedly, but fear dragged him back from it every time. John was so afraid of those old faces he knew somehow were his own. Still, he hadn’t had a dream in a long time, though he hadn’t tried to pinpoint when they’d stopped.
“They what? You--teleport? Change…” John was floundering a bit, the ability to suspend belief forcing him into the rigidity his family upbringing dictated. Had he not dreamed at all, too, he might have let rudeness drive him and order her out, but Cindy was a friend; John would never be cruel to his friends. And deep, deep down, some tiny little spark in him was just dying to see what she could do.
Swallowing the unease, John nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes, yes I think a show would be best, if you don’t mind.”
It was kind of weird, and Cindy wouldn’t blame him for being unnerved. The fact that John actually wanted to see was definitely positive - or that he’d made the decision to suck it up and tuck away the disbelief for just a moment. Better than her doing some kooky shit right in front of him, with no warning, and causing him to run screaming from his office.
“Okay,” she nodded, mouth tipped upward in a little grin. “Feast your eyes.”
She hadn’t done this a lot, but it was good practice. After a moment of concentration, the ripple and change effect began from the boots themselves and upward. Cindy wasn’t Cindy anymore, completely different than how she usually looked, less blonde and built in a slender but toned sort of way. More young socialite in clashing animal print heels and skirt, a tanorexic bottle redhead.
It was the starkest contrast she could think of at the moment.
Then she let the disguise fall away, and it was like a snake shedding its skin. She was back to her old self. “Guess it could come in handy sometimes,” she shrugged.
The apprehensive human in him had his hands gripping the seat, like she might blow up his tiny little office by one small move. He didn’t know what to expect, not really. John was a fan of sci-fi, fantasy, and everything else in between; but, they were all stories in the end. They weren’t real, then everything he knew seemed to collapse around him.
As soon as she changed, he was on his feet and he didn’t know to what end that would take him. Was he going to head for the hills? Why? Cindy had always been a friend to him. Suddenly Cindy was gone, at least physically speaking, she’d changed her face. Changed her face. It was that very notion that set him standing along with every nerve under his skin. Frightened and fascinated all at once, John made something of a very unmanly squeak before clearing his throat uncomfortably. Awkwardly.
“You,” he stammered, “but, then,” continued John in a helpless-sounding fashion. “What?” Had he gone mental? He couldn’t explain what he’d seen with his eyes, but something inside him had a scientific answer for it.
Naturally, he ignored it.
Collecting the shoes that had fallen in his surprise, he put them back in the box and nervously drummed his fingers against the desk. And just like that, she was Cindy again. Plucking his glasses off, John systematically began to clean them while mentally processing the experience.
“It isn’t natural,” he heard himself saying and instantly regretted it. Immediately apologetic, he flinched as he waved his hands around, practically flailing. “Sorry, sorry -- I can’t, I just need a moment, I think. You changed, you changed how you look because of your shoes, and that’s…” Terrifying? Unsightly? Impossible?
John exhaled with a sudden twinkle in his eyes, “Amazing!”
She laughed, a silvery and relieved sort of sound. At least a friend of hers didn’t think that she was a freak (or, in Cindy’s case, didn’t wet himself at the sight of her odd, science-defying shoes). No, that was a reaction she would take. Maybe later, some other time, she’d show off the whole teleportation thing. Being a Fable also came with a set of invulnerability perks too; it was just really difficult to kill her, but that was a whole other story.
“It’s kind of a parlor trick compared to what some people around here can do - like without the aid of fabulous shoes,” she said, smiling modestly. “But hey, I brought gifts and entertainment.” In addition to a healthy dash of freaking the poor guy out. He’d handled it well enough though.
Hopping off the desk, she went over and patted him consolingly on the shoulder. “I owe you a drink after that, whenever you want. I mean, for being a good sport.” It was the last she could do.
What other people could do? John had only just accepted that his friend Cindy could change her appearance as some sort of glamour and possible teleport, he couldn’t fathom other people being capable of more. Exhaling again, his heartbeat still racing over the excitement, he shook his head--several times. He’d be doing a lot of that the rest of the day.
“I’ll settle on seeing this marvel for now,” he said kindly, just glad that he hadn’t offended her with his initial outburst. It was a lot to process, but that didn’t mean he could go around being rude.
“A drink?” He considered aloud, quirking a smile along with a brow. “Well, wouldn’t turn down such an offer! After the holidays, hm? We’ll have a night out!” The impulse to invite Rose along had to be resisted, she’d find something else to do that night, he knew. “Light on the face-changing bit, I imagine,” he joked.
“Definitely,” Cindy agreed, holding up her hand as if to swear on the good book itself. “Light on the face-changing, I swear. But after the holidays sounds great. I’m sure we can find a bar you haven’t been to yet, someplace fun. I can bring Garrus if you want? And if you want to bring anyone, feel free.” John would like Garrus, she thought. Her bad boy alien was pretty charismatic.
Leaning in, she then gave John a kiss on the cheek - friendly and well meaning, and nary a lipstick stain did she leave. It was smudge-proof, thank you. “I’ll let you get back to work now, yeah?” He’d probably had enough surprises for one day.
Oh. Perking up at the prospect of bringing someone along, John opened his mouth only to promptly shut it in slight embarrassment. He’d think about it, run it by Rose, and-- “Well, I’ll see about that. Drop you a text after the holidays settle down.” His only plan was to go by Gwen’s later and drop off her gift, then head home to make sure he had everything for Christmas dinner!
Blinking in surprise at the gesture, he flustered rather quickly. John was an utter failure at flirting, let alone accepting affection from others. Fortunately for him, he liked to think of Cindy as a close enough friend that he didn’t flail for long! So, he hopped up and gave her one more hug.
“Not much to get back to, but that’s fine,” he nodded. “I’ll have your present by then, too--should’ve told me you were coming! Could’ve brought it along with me!” He laughed, not at all minding the surprise, of course. “Happy Christmas, Cindy!”