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"I still don't understand why we celebrate Christmas. We're not affiliated with any religious order," Kirito said and stared down at the tray of sugar cookies he held with an air of contempt.

"Presents, Kirito, presents," Brett muttered. He was sitting on the couch, seemingly concentrating very hard on the nothingness in front of him. "That's enough reason for me."

"The decorations, then?"

Brett sighed, annoyed. "Tradition, alright? What better way to stick it to society than for a bunch of psi assassins to put up bastardized nativities and cheerful holly?"

The telekinetic considered this. "I suppose...still, why do I end up doing all the work?"

"Because I'm busy," Brett responded, "and you are our bitch."

A cookie was promptly thrown and landed right between two unsuspecting eyes.

"Ow!"

"Kirito, don't waste cookies," Nagi commented as he passed, a couple rolls of wrapping paper and boxes floating after him.

"Sorry, tousan."

"You bastard! You ruined my concentration!" the assaulted redhead growled, rubbing his forehead.

"Concentrating on staring into space? Yeah, I can see how that would be a trial for you." Kirito snorted, blowing a stray piece of hair out of his face. "You've been at it all day and we're all starting to wonder if maybe your powers aren't doing something to your brain."

"It's true," a high voice suddenly chirped. Cailin sashayed down the hall and jumped into a crouch by the couch, chin resting delicately on its arm. "I heard Uncle Brad and Da talk about it."

"Where is your dad? I haven't seen him all morning," Brett asked, abandoning the act of nursing his injury and instead poking at the holly berries tied into curled auburn hair.

Cailin smiled. "He's decking the halls. Uncle Schu said it was the task best suited for him. Da thought it sounded fun and violent."

"Ah, good. Those halls really needed a good decking. Always sassing everyone and giving us an attitude."

"Idiot," Kirito stated while offering Cailin the tray. Pale hands grabbed as many as possible before retreating and the telekinetic wondered if he should have made more. "So what have you been doing anyway, sitting here and stuff?"

Gold eyes blinked. "Oh yeah. Brett-chan, are you feeling okay? Do you need a drink and/or to kill something?"

The two boys stared at her for a moment.

She shrugged and ducked a bit lower behind the couch.

"No, I don't need either. You shouldn't listen to my Schuldig, Cailin. Those are just his personal solutions to...well...life." Shaking his head, Brett shoved a handful of bangs back and scratched his head. "Look, I've been trying to get a glimpse of us opening our presents, okay?

His cousins said "Ooooh" and nodded their approval.

"And...?" Kirito ventured when the redhead didn't continue. "What's one of my gifts? Just one! I don't want to be spoiled..."

Brett smirked. "Bunny slippers. Fuzzy ones."

The Japanese boy seemed truly happy about this much to the others' confusion.

"Me next! Me next!" Cailin exclaimed.

"I only caught a glimpse of something, but there was leather involved. After that, I really didn't want to know."

"I need to make room in my closet..." Hopping up, the girl's red-clad visage bounded down the hall, bare feet echoing up the stairs. One of their fathers yelped and there was a thunk sound.

"Apparently she's getting something she wanted," Kirito observed dryly.

Brett made a vague sound, staring ahead again with eyebrows furrowed. His hair contrasted badly with the garland hanging lowly on the wall and his stern expression was disturbingly similar to that of the nutcracker Schuldig had brought home last week.

"Uh, Brett?" Kirito started tentatively, placing his tray on the side-table and waving a hand in front of his cousin's face. "Did you See what you're getting?"

"Huh?" Milk-tea colored eyes seemed to snap into awareness to meet his cousin's brown ones. "No. I didn't try looking for that."

Kirito waited, starting to become impatient, but his cousin looked dazed and confused after using his powers so much. Brett used to do the same thing every year once his precognition had developed until his father had pointed out how useless it was to actively waste energy on such a small thing. It didn't make sense, really, why the redhead had taken up the habit again, unless...

"So, what were you really looking for?"

Brett grinned up at the telekinetic and stood, stretching as he did so, making his shirt ride up an inch. "Ah, not much. Just wondering who was going to be here on Christmas."

"Who's going to...wait, isn't it always just us?" Kirito asked, annoyed now with the lack of explanation, but his bastard of a cousin just waved at him over his shoulder and wandered towards the kitchen. "Dammit."

Brett snickered at the mental yelling Kirito was directing his way, making his way to the fridge and grabbing a can of tonic. It opened with a click and a hiss. Glancing around, he set his attention on Schuldig, who was standing by a punch bowl of eggnog with a bottle of something in each hand.

The pink Santa hat really didn't suit him well. Someone had obviously forgotten to take the Victoria Secret catalog away from the older redhead.

"What's up?" Brett asked with one eyebrow arched. Absently, he twisted the tab off his can and threw it on the counter.

Schuldig turned to face his son, rum and brandy labels now clear. "Making eggnog," he said, smirking.

"Ah, technically the eggnog came in a cardboard carton, you know."

"Technicalities, brat. Now comes the real decision. To spike it, or not to spike it," the German mused in his most Shakespearean tone.

"But...you and dad are the only ones who drink that stuff," Brett pointed out, taking a sip of his own drink. Curious, he inched closer to the other telepath, wary of a trap or some other nefarious plot.

"This is very true," Schuldig decided, and promptly poured the contents of both into the bowl. "'Tis the season to be jolly...and get Brad totally smashed so he'll let me take him out and do questionable things behind the neighbor's manger scene."

"You know, that plan never actually works. You just end up dancing on the table singing "O Christmas Tree" in German before asking if anyone's seen your eight tiny reindeer."

"Never could find those bastards," Schulig mused, seemingly disheartened as he stirred his concoction. "Well, at least I think I get Braddles behind the manger the next morning. Almost as good."

Brett wondered if perhaps he should have bought his family a psychiatrist for Christmas before deciding that such a present would clearly go to waste.

He noticed, then, the package perched on the other end of the table. Just a small box in gold wrapping, a red ribbon tied around it.

One hand waved at the box. "That one mine?"

Blue eyes looked amused. "Yours? Naw. Most of your boxes are considerably larger, which you better appreciate, and under the tree already. We had to literally kill someone for one of them."

"So I am getting a Playstation 3. Awesome."

"Killed for," Schuldig repeated and was pleased when Brett didn't look the least bit worried about that. "Anyway, that one is for your brother."

Brett looked startled. "Alex?"

"No, your other brother. We just don't like to talk about him. Name's Eugene, but his mom was French. Has a strange fascination with berets and Cheeze-Its," Schuldig rambled, pushing the gift towards his son with the end of his ladle.

"It says 'Alex' on the tag..."

"Or, you know, it's for Alex."

Brett stared.

Schuldig shrugged. "Boss's orders, kid. Put it under the tree for tomorrow, okay?"

"Uh, sure. I'll do that," the redhead nodded, grasping the package and shuffling towards the archway.

"You gonna go back to your Vision Quest again?" Schuldig asked, hint of a grin working its way onto his face.

Brett shook his head, red strands covering his eyes. "Nope. I just found my answer."