Chapter Six January #2
No, this is good. It would’ve been nice to see if Brady had picked yours since he knew it was from you, but this is good. Get it opened, let him see what it is…
“All right, boys, let’s see what we’ve got here,” she said and neatly untaped each side to gently pull off the wrapping paper to reveal— “Oh,” she said with actual shock. “Oh God.”
“What is it?”
“It’s, uh… well, it’s hockey-themed.” She pushed aside the wrapping paper and held up the box, showing off the front.
There was a clear plastic window that showed a bobblehead of none other than Jaromir Jagr in all his mulleted glory holding up the Cup.
The figure alone would be shocking enough to any Caps fan, but the black Penguins jersey truly made it an abomination.
“That’s…” Lexi said but trailed off.
“I don’t…” GG stuttered. “I don’t, uhm…”
“Really?” Young Greg deadpanned. “Jagr? In front of my salad?”
“Is it terrible that I’m glad he’s in a Pens jersey and not in his Caps one?” Donno stage-whispered to Benns.
“And because I’m first, I’m stuck with this, aren’t I?” Gail said and glared at each and every one of them in turn, no doubt wondering who had inflicted this awful gift on the group but more importantly on her.
“We can talk about a late steal at the end if you’d like,” Benns said diplomatically. “I’m sure there are versions where that’s allowed.”
“Greeeat. Thanks, whoever got this.” Gail held it up and shook the box. “I love it.”
All the while, Nick watched Brady’s reaction. He hadn’t seemed particularly interested until the big reveal, and then he’d licked his lips. His eyes had briefly flickered to Nick, but it was too fast for Nick to read anything in it.
The next giftee was Donno, who picked a small package that ended up containing several packs of hockey cards. He flipped through to count them while Gail held up her bobblehead.
“It’d sure be a shame if someone were to steal this bobblehead from me…”
“Yeah, it ain’t going to be me. I got a nephew who collects these things.”
Gail sighed loudly. “Fiiine. Use your presumably cute nephew as an excuse.”
Brady was next, his gaze drifting over to Gail and the bobblehead often enough that Nick wondered if he’d rather bypass the whole show of taking a new gift from the table. As usual, though, he followed the rules without complaint and picked one of the larger gifts decorated with a huge bow.
He opened it and held up a red sweater that said CAPITALS in white block letters.
“What a beaut,” Young Greg said. “That is a fine sweater. One of y’all is way more talented than you’ve been letting on.”
The team went on and on about how impressed they were with it, that it looked warm, that it looked comfy, that it might be the item to steal.
And then there was Brady, the current holder of the longed-for treasure, looking like a kicked puppy.
Brady stared down at the handknit sweater, face carefully neutral. He bit his lip, and Nick wondered what was going through his head. Obviously he wouldn’t want to be rude and admit his own feelings about the sweater—someone had worked hard to knit it, after all—but he as clearly did not want it.
“Uhh… this is… uh… certainly a sweater…”
Nick was struggling to come up with something to say, a way to help—
“I wanna steal the bobblehead,” Brady said over the chatter.
The room fell silent in surprise.
After a pause, Gail nearly fell over in her rush to put down her mug and pass over the bobblehead. “Oh my fucking God, if you’re dicking around—”
“I’m not.” He made a “gimme” motion with one hand and held out the sweater with the other.
They swapped gifts, Brady with a soft smile as he inspected his prize. It honestly was so reminiscent of a kid on Christmas day that it melted Nick’s heart. Brady was happy, and Nick had done that.
“My turn! I pick this one!” Young Greg grabbed a large box and nearly dropped it when he tried to pick it up. It must have been much heavier than it looked, and Young Greg cursed under his breath as he tried again.
“Uhh,” Lexi said. “I don’t think this is a good gift for him…”
It was too late, though; he’d already torn into the newspaper wrapping. The newspaper pulled aside, it was very obvious that the box contained a six-pack of beer and a set of shot glasses.
“Oh,” Young Greg said, looking as disappointed with his selection as Brady had.
“Yeeeah,” said Lexi. “That’s not for you.”
“Oh dear,” said Benns, and then hurriedly snatched the box away. “Donno, Gail, Brady, would any of you be willing to trade for the beer?”
Brady possessively held his box more tightly, and Gail didn’t look eager to let the sweater go.
“Fine,” Donno grumbled and handed the trading cards over. “I already got my nephew a gift anyway.”
“I always wonder why we’re the only beer-league team that doesn’t drink on the bench,” Mags said, “and then I remember we’ve got a child on the team.”
“I’m turning twenty in March!” Young Greg protested.
“Twenty ain’t twenty-one.”
The next few gifts inspired some “ooh”s and “aah”s, as well as some shuffling around of the opened gifts.
There were hockey-themed cookie cutters, a book about the Hockey Hall of Fame, different colors of hockey tape, a hockey bag deodorizing spray (the arguments for who should get that one were on other people’s behalf rather than anyone wanting it for themselves, and it was universally agreed that Donno needed it the most), and a holiday edition of Cards Against Humanity.
When it got to Nick’s turn, there were only two gifts left on the table: Brady’s gold basket and a smaller gift in a pale-green bag.
There was plenty out there he wouldn’t mind having, but really, he didn’t even know what Brady had gotten, and he was not the type of man capable of ignoring that mystery.
“Pass me the gold one?”
Brady’s head shot up, and he narrowed his eyes at Nick, watching him unwrap the gift he’d brought.
He delicately opened the pristine wrapping job. The basket was the least surprising part of what he found: inside were five neatly wrapped caramel apples.
“Caramel apples?” he asked in confusion. He never in a million years would have guessed this, and while the question was open to anyone who had any sort of explanation, it was directed toward Brady.
“Seasonal treat,” he said with a half shrug. “It’s festive.”
“You keepin’ that or stealing?” Gail prompted. She currently had the Cards Against Humanity game, which had already been stolen twice. The Caps sweater, the only other real contender for Nick’s interest, had already been stolen the maximum three times and would be going home with Lexi.
“I’ll keep it,” he said and made sure to make eye contact with Brady as he said so.
“Great! So that just leaves Mags! And perfect timing, there’s only a few minutes before the Winter Classic.”
The last gift was a small Lego hockey player and a Lego Zamboni, which Mags amicably passed to Guy as a gift for his five-year-old son and accepted the cookie cutters as a trade.
“That was fun!” Benns said with a wide smile.
“Great choices, and I hope everyone ended up with something they’ll enjoy.
I’ll go upstairs and get Molly and everyone else.
We’ll watch the first period, then get some food during the intermission.
Y’all can head into the fridge and grab yourselves a drink. I’ve got beer and soda.”
Everyone rushed to the other room where the fridge was, and slowly everyone’s plus ones filtered in from upstairs.
While the team had bonded over gifts, the others had enjoyed a few rounds of cards.
Nick did a quick headcount as he scanned the basement lounge.
There were enough seats for the team, but with more people, it’d be a fight for every square inch of sitting space.
He should hurry if he wanted a good spot.
Nick didn’t rush. No need, when who he wanted was already in the room.
He nudged Brady with his shoulder to get his attention, and he was greeted with a warm smile.
“Next year, we should just get gifts for each other, cut out the middleman,” Brady said.
Nick’s cheeks flushed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh huh,” Brady said with a smirk. “You just randomly got a Jagr bobblehead for a bunch of Caps fans? Bullshit. You know I’m the only one here who’d like it. You got me a gift.”
Nick didn’t bother to deny it. “You expected me to get the caramel?”
“No, I figured it’d be Guy or Benns who took it.”
“What’d you think I’d end up with?”
“I was kind of hoping you’d go for the beer and then share it with me.”
“So basically you were hoping to use me to get two gifts?”
“Hey, you owe me a beer, remember?” He paused, hesitating like he was unsure if he should keep going before he added, “You know, I, uh… I made the apples.”
“You made the apples?” Nick repeated, not sure what that even meant.
“Well, not the actual apples. But I made the caramel yesterday at my parent’s place, and I dipped the apples and yeah. I made them.”
Nick held up the basket of apples, looking at each of them in new appreciation. Homemade caramel apples, each individually wrapped and tied with a bow.
“Why the fuck do you have so many random talents?” he demanded. “That’s not fair.”
“You don’t even know if they taste good,” Brady said.
“And if they don’t, you’ll hear about it, but still. This is like… next level gift-giving, I swear. This is up there with the handknit sweater.”
Brady made a face. “Let’s not talk about the sweater.”
“You know, you’re lucky they’d already claimed it, or I would’ve come in and swiped it and worn it the rest of the day.”
“That sweater is a monstrosity, and I’m glad you didn’t get it because you’d wear it every fucking time we go to the bar.”
“So what you’re saying is I should find out who made it and get—”
Brady punched his shoulder, not hard but not exactly gentle. “You’re such a little shit.”
“I try. Wanna grab some beer? I don’t know if I have my ID on me, so hopefully Benns isn’t carding people.”
“A beer sounds awesome.”