csi_sanders1129 | Fic: 12 Days

Title: 12 Days
Chapters: Day 12/12
Author:

csi_sanders1129
Genre: AU. Drama. Romance. Mystery.
Ratings: T
Word Count: ~5,400
Pairings/Characters: Jason/Spinelli. Spinelli/Other.
Synopsis: Jason and Spinelli suffer through 12 days of complete and total hell at the hands of the Creepy Christmas Stalker out to win Spinelli over.
Comments: Major thanks to

suerum for all of her help on this! Alright, guys. Last chapter, I hope the ending lives up to your expectations. Boys aren’t mine. Happy Holidays, all! Enjoy!

Days 1-4

Days 5-8

Days 9-10

Day 11

Spinelli woke bright and early on Day 12, but if he was a little weary of actually getting out of bed, he could hardly be blamed. Jason was pressed against him, his bare chest against Spinelli’s equally bare back, arms curled protectively around him. One of the elder’s hands had settled itself on Spinelli’s similarly naked hip, keeping him in place. There was the warm breath on the back his neck, and the general feeling of warmth that came with sleeping so close to someone else that made getting out of bed that much more unappealing.

But, it had to be done.

Today, in just a few hours, if Spinelli’s suspicions on the setting of today’s event were correct, he would sacrifice himself. There were things to do prior to that of great importance. Like make sure Stone Cold was informed of his plan.

“Right about now,” Jason began, his voice sleep-thick and so close as he pressed a kiss to the back of Spinelli’s neck. “I’m thinking about just taking you away from here. Getting out of the country until this is all over with.”

“He’d find me, Stone Cold. Hiding me wouldn’t deter him from his quest, it would only serve to make him more unyielding.” He answered somberly, turning over to face his now-lover. He buried his face against Jason’s neck, sighing in something like contentment when the elder brought his hand up to tangle in his hair. “We shall face today valiantly, no matter the possible outcomes.”

The elder nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

It was hardly what he wanted, really, just what had to be done. Running would only guarantee that they’d be chased, and he doubted he could make this deal again once that happened. “The Jackal presumes that the 12 Drummers Drumming characteristic of the final day in this blasted yuletide tune shall make their appearance at the Annual Christmas Day Parade this afternoon.” He looked to his watch, which read 7:22. “We still have plenty of time, perhaps we should rest up a bit more?”

What they ended up doing involved a lot less by way of resting and a lot more activity. In the end, they passed out for a few more hours and woke around noon, with just two hours until the parade began.

Once showered and dressed, they headed downstairs. Spinelli insisted on checking his email to verify the details of today’s event since they had yet to receive confirmation by any other means. Jason slipped away to speak to one of the bodyguards he had called on to provide him with adequate weaponry for whatever today had in store.

Making sure Jason was still occupied with the guard, Spinelli checked his email. He saw he had the email concerning the parade, and passed that one by in favor of clicking the other new message. It was another note, as he expected.

~Damian, my beloved and exalted, I did but try to extricate you from his clutches yesterday for he had the audacity to lay hands on you when I now know that in your heart you are repulsed by any touch other than mine. Yet, I did foreswear to harm him and thus, I left before inflicting further damage. The hours are waning and soon we shall be united as has been foretold. I will mark you as mine before we finally inextricably unite and together rend us of our bonds of mortality.

Okay, so the terms of his deal had been accepted. Jason would be safe. He deleted the message to err on the side of caution and moved to his next, exponentially more important task.

He typed quickly, making sure that it was painfully clear what his reasons for doing this were. He would have already done what the note warned of when Jason discovered this information.

With one final glance over the message, he hit print, and also printed the information in the email about the parade – even though they both already knew it. Pocketing the most important note, he approached Jason and offered the second page.

“You were right, then.” He said, breaking away from his conversation with the body guard. He motioned the guard away and he and Spinelli set out for the park. They’d be early, but then that was what Jason was hoping for. Maybe they could catch him before all the chaos of the parade began.

The street that the parade would follow was already starting to crowd, despite the time. Recognizable groups were everywhere. Carly and Jax, with Michael, Morgan, and Josslyn. Nikolas with Spencer. Alexis was just arriving with Molly and Kristina – who seemed far more interested in her boyfriend’s presence than with her family. Countless other familiar faces, but not the one Jason was looking for.

“You see him anywhere?” He prompted Spinelli, standing beside him.

“Negative thus far.”

In fact, it wasn’t until the 12 Drummers had made their appearance that Spinelli did see any signs of his mysterious suitor. He spotted the stranger across the street from him. He raised a single finger to his lips, telling Spinelli to remain silent – as if he didn’t already know. Spinelli offered a subtle nod of his head in response.

This was it. That was his signal to leave. He bit his lip, hesitating. Maybe… maybe Jason had had the right idea. They could run. They could go someplace far, far away, disappear with new identities and new lives and...

No.

The note he’d slipped into his pocket he now slipped into Jason’s. Silently, as stealthily as he could manage, he backed away from Jason, from everything that represented stability and safety and home, and disappeared into the mass of the crowd.

Even the knowledge that he was returning to someplace that should feel like home – it wasn’t, not without Jason – didn’t help him. He expected, more so, dreaded, that his stalker would approach him, walk with him back to the Penthouse, but he found himself blissfully alone. Just outside, he removed the gold ring from his pocket and slid it back onto his finger, where it most definitely did not belong.

He headed into the building, passed several of his neighbors, up the stairs, and expected to be overwhelmed by the number of birds they’d left behind. Upon entering Penthouse number 2, however, he found the place spotless, as if four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and one very scary partridge in a pear tree had not been residing there just over a week ago.

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate the mess.” Came the unfamiliar voice that Spinelli had yet to actually hear. “Or the noise.”

“The Jackal does indeed appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“You’re not the Jackal. Not anymore.” That was the harsh reply to his comment and suddenly the man was in his personal space, standing just in front of him. “The Jackal is associated with him, and we just can’t have that. You are Damian. Just Damian.”

Spinelli frowned, but quickly forced his features into a more neutral expression. “Ugh, as you wish. What should I, Damian, call you then?”

Betrayal, hurt, anger, flashed in the other’s eyes. “You mean you don’t know me?”

“I… I do not.” He said, hoping he just hadn’t sent this all down in flames. He scrambled to correct himself. “I mean, that is, I know of you, I have known of you, but I don’t know your name.”

He seemed appeased by Spinelli’s cover. “So, you have noticed me. Good. You can call me Franco.”

“Okay.” Spinelli stuttered. This… this really hadn’t been a good idea. “Again, the Ja- I am truly sorry for what you had to see of my involvements with Stone- the Unworthy One these past few days. But I thank you for agreeing to leave him unharmed.”

“It was only because you requested it. Had you not intervened I would have made him pay for what he’s done to you.” Franco assured him. “Your reasoning, though, I understood, and granted you that much.”

He nodded, and found himself being led toward the sofa. Franco sat down right beside him, knees bumping with their proximity. “I, ugh, would you mind refreshing my mind on how we originally met. I recall that it was in July, but I’ve been so overwhelmed by the recent events that I can’t seem to focus on the memory.” He hoped that sounded convincing enough to assure Franco that he wasn’t totally oblivious.

“I suppose that could be understood given the circumstances. It was at Jake’s, when your heathen of a roommate was not present. You sang with such passion, such emotion, and it seemed as if you were singing solely to me. Your words requested that you wished for someone to show you what true love was, so I knew I had my chance. I knew that we were meant to be, Damian.”

Spinelli’s mind whirled. If he could have been singing any more directly to Maxie, he couldn’t imagine how it would occur. How this guy thought the song had been some sign, some signal to him that they were meant to spend eternity together…

“Oh, that is correct.” He lied. “Why is it that you waited so long to identify yourself to me? Were you simply waiting until you could put this master plan into motion? How much effort you must have had to put into it. The details, how you got in here so many nights, even after the… unworthy one changed the locks and upped security, hacking into my laptop. How you managed to drug us once we’d gone to the hotel, all the bugs in the rooms.” Spinelli paused in his ideally ego-boosting speech. “It was all executed to perfection. Simply brilliant.”

Franco was all out grinning now. “I’m glad you could see the genius behind my plan to win you over completely. I knew you would see it.”

Spinelli nodded. “I, of course I would.”

“Come, let’s proceed with the tasks that will rid you of the contamination you faced - through no will of your own – by interacting so intimately with one so unworthy.” He stood, pulling Spinelli to his feet and making for the stairs as if he had lived here as long as Spinelli had.

“Pardon?”

“You must be cleaned. Did I not inform you of this in the message following your transgression with him?”

Spinelli froze where he stood, trying to recall. That would have been the email that he had replied to. The one that had threatened Jason outright. In truth, he had been solely focused on that aspect, not on whatever plans Franco had in mind for him. “Oh… you did, didn’t you?”

Franco ushered him on, and led the way to the regrettably pink room. Previously, it had been Spinelli’s safe haven. His own area - cluttered and filled with the organized chaos he had bestowed upon it. Now it was as if it had never been his room. His captor obviously sensed his hesitance for whatever was coming. “Oh, do relax, will you, Damian? I am merely asking you to take a bath, or a shower, if you would ultimately prefer. If you so wish it, I will even remain out of the room.”

“Alright, if that is what it takes, I will comply with your request.” He said, voice shaking even as he shut himself inside of his small bathroom. He was glad for the reprieve from Franco’s insistent gaze. Slowly, he stripped out of his clothes, turned on the tap, waited for the temperature to level out and climbed in. He washed slowly, stalling for time, but he knew he could only do that for so long.

A long moment was spent regarding the two shampoo bottles set on the edge of the tub. One was his, but the other was Jason’s. He’d had to borrow it once when his own had run out and he’d forgotten to return it. He opted for that one.

When he’d taken as long as he supposed he could – evidenced by the impatient prompting by Franco from the other side of the door – he turned off the water, stepped out, and dried off as methodically as possible. With all the conviction of a sentenced man heading for the hangman’s noose, he called out an assurance to his would-be murderer that he would be out momentarily.

As soon as he figured out what he was supposed to do about his clothes. He doubted putting what he’d been wearing back on would go over well – those clothes had been ‘contaminated’ by Stone Cold, according to Franco, but he definitely wasn’t walking out there in a towel. It presented quite the dilemma.

“Might I perhaps have some clothes to change into, Franco? Ones that have not been tarnished by the unworthy one’s touch? I thought perhaps we might talk a bit more before anything else.”

The door cracked open just a bit and a clean outfit was passed through to him. He changed quickly. Tugged on boxers and jeans, pulled the proffered button down shirt over his still damp hair, even slid on his shoes in case an opportunity for escape presented itself, and opened the door.

“Most appreciated.” Spinelli smiled as best he could. “M-my question: Why does this have to end?” he asked, with a sort of morbid curiosity. “Why can’t we simply run away, simply be together. Why, when I have just found my soul mate,” He exhaled shakily, reminded himself that this was all for his recently discovered soul mate – for Jason, “must we die?”

“Oh, Damian. Can’t you see?” Franco seemed pleased with his beloved having called him his soul mate, but that was not the point. “As long as we exist on this Earth, there is the possibility that you will stray from me. You said yourself that you have been enchanted by the undeserving one. If you have barred me from ending him, as well as any future suitor you might have, then there can be no guarantee that you will remain forever mine.”

He sat down on the edge of his bed as he absorbed the man’s psychotic logic. “I… I see.” He swallowed, chest aching and hands shaking violently because he knew that the end of all of this had to be coming soon.

“Indeed. Death makes everything betwixt and between us permanent. No amount of interference can ruin it for us.” Franco sat down beside him, one hand snaking out to card through his damp hair. “But, first, of course, we shall consummate our earthy affair.”

“What?” Spinelli began to protest, eyes widened and his mind kicking in to overdrive at the words. But, he found that the hand in his hair had an ulterior motive. It pulled him closer, smashing his lips against Franco’s even as he struggled to escape.

He pushed away, scrambled backwards off the bed. Even though it shouldn’t have been, the first thing in his mind was how amazing it had felt to wake up to Jason kissing him. Jason.

Jason…

It took only moments for Jason to realize that his roommate, best friend, lover, was missing in action. He spun around, the parade and his lookout for the stranger forgotten as his eyes searched frantically for Spinelli.

The stalker had to have gotten him. Somehow. He didn’t like the idea of the man having been close enough to grab Spinelli, to take him away without any fight, without anyone around them noticing it. Spinelli wouldn’t have wandered off in this without telling him, either, though.

He’d check around just in case though. The guy at the edge of the parade selling hot chocolate and water bottles hadn’t seen him. Nor had any of the police officers looking after the event. With very few options, he headed back to the hotel. Maybe he’d thought of something, gotten some hit on his research into who was responsible for all of this.

There was no sign of Spinelli at the Cyber Café, nor in the room they’d shared this morning.

If Spinelli was harmed because Jason had failed to protect him – from feet away! – he couldn’t even think about what he’d do if that were the case.

The gun in his pocket seemed so heavy. It was begging to be used and Jason would ensure that it would be once he located the bastard that had somehow gotten Spinelli away from him. He moved to remove it and found that something new was in his pocket as well.

A folded piece of computer paper. He opened it slowly, unsure as to whether or not it was from the Creepy Christmas Stalker. It wasn’t.

Stone Cold, Your Jackal has agreed to meet with the anonymous one behind all of this madness. In exchange he has assured me that you will see no further harm. I have told him that you have bewitched me, but I need you to know that it’s not true. Anything I am forced to say to him will only occur because it is necessary in order to convince him I am serious. It’s the only way to keep you safe, and that is my priority.

No matter the outcome of this encounter, know that my heart is yours and yours alone and that my home is, and always will be, with you.

Love, Spinelli.

The words took a moment to sink in, but once they had…

Damn it! Spinelli had done this for him! He’d… he’d wandered right into that psychopath’s plan. Even with his goodbye note, he hadn’t left a clue as to where to look for him. How was Jason supposed to know how to save him from this madness if he didn’t know where they had gone for this meeting?

He could have gone anywhere… especially if Spinelli hadn’t had a say in the location. They could be on the way out of town already if Spinelli had gotten in a car with the lunatic. They could be in any one of the hotel rooms. They could be…

Home.

He looked at Spinelli’s note again. My home is and always will be, with you. While right now it wasn’t home, not with the flock of birds turning the penthouse into some sort of aviary, it was still something that would have been previously associated with home.

With a destination in mind, he took off out of the room, note tucked safely in his pocket.

“Where are you going, Damian?” Franco protested, moving forward just as quickly as Spinelli had backpedaled, hauling the younger back to his feet. “I told you of this, too. In the message from earlier today. Don’t act surprised now.”

All he had cared about in that letter from today was that his agreement had been well received. Jason would be unharmed, that was all he’d really gotten out of the email before he’d set to work writing his note for his lover.

“No, no.” He objected, trying to back away from Franco, but he bumped into his dresser and found himself pinned. “I… I don’t want this, no.”

That didn’t sit well with his aggressor. Franco frowned, assaulted him with another bruising kiss before he could make any further attempts at escape. Hands landed on his chest, tugging at the fabric of his button down shirt, pulling it apart without much effort. “I will assume that this protesting is merely your concern over your beloved seeing the marks the unworthy one laid upon you.”

And, yes, there were marks on him from what he and Jason had done last night, this morning, and yes, Franco seeing them – noticing that they were fresher than they should have been since Spinelli suspected he didn’t know about just how far they’d gone, was a concern. But not for the reasons that his stalker believed.

Self-preservation instincts seemed to kick in about then, just as Franco’s hands began wandering dangerously lower. Spinelli pushed his assailant away, struggling out of the other man’s grip, and made for the door to his room. He pulled it closed behind him once he was through it, hoping for the time it would give him, and ran. Down the hall, down the stairs.

“Damian!” Franco shouted after him, sounding furious, somehow just behind him now, and the psychopath’s arms closed around him, keeping him from making it to the door. “I don’t know what you were trying to do, but…”

Spinelli shoved out of the man’s hold again, but he now found that Franco stood between him and his only exit. “The Jackal,” He said pointedly, done with the charade, done with the pretending. He was going to get back to Jason. They were going to run, they were going to be together, and if this guy ever showed his face again… “The Jackal is attempting to escape.” He pulled the ring from his finger, threw it at Franco who only fumed more.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Franco frowned. “You are mine, whether you understand that yet or not, Damian.” He growled out, dodging forward toward Spinelli again. He managed to get Spinelli pinned against the wall. “He’s really got you brainwashed, doesn’t he? This is all his fault.”

“Stone Cold never did anything to me that I didn’t want him to do.” Spinelli replied. His hands were pinned to his sides, and Franco was too close for him to be able to kick out at him. He was well and truly in trouble.

His captor, while still obviously infuriated by his actions, did not seem terribly put off by his words. “I don’t believe you.” Franco leaned back slightly; still close enough so that Spinelli couldn’t make another escape attempt, but enough so that he could let his eyes wander freely over the exposed skin of his beloved’s chest. “No matter what he’s done to you, you’ll be mine.”

The door opened then, and Spinelli was torn between dread and relief when he realized that it was his Stone Cold. He hadn’t wanted Jason to come and save him – it put him at risk and that had been his entire reasoning behind agreeing to this – but he didn’t want to die, either, or be forced into Franco’s pre-death plans.

“Stone Cold,” He heaved a sigh of relief, short lived as it was.

“Let him go!” Jason demanded, gun out and trained on the man who’d done all of this.

Franco pulled Spinelli off of the wall, moving him in front of him as a shield. “Try it, Morgan.” He said, the same knife he’d fought Jason with two nights prior out once again and lingering dangerously close to Spinelli’s neck. “He doesn’t want you. He told me himself. You forced him to do all of it.”

Desperate. He was desperate, clinging on to his fractured reality, Jason realized, and that… really wasn’t a good thing. That meant he could come undone. And with Spinelli in such proximity, it was insurmountably dangerous.

“Damian came here of his own free will and you will not take him away from me! He picked me.”

Jason nodded. “He did do that, so let him walk out of here of his own free will, too.”

The stranger, still unnamed to Jason, shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Leaving wasn’t ever a part of the deal. Damian had to know that when he agreed to come here. You had to know that, too, since he showed you the notes.”

“Consider this a new deal, then.” Jason countered, daring to take a step closer. The knife on Spinelli’s neck pressed a little closer, but he’d have a better shot lined up now – once Spinelli was clear of the action.

“No! There are no new deals. Not even the old deal anymore. You have become too much of a distraction for Damian, and you must be removed from the equation before you can further corrupt him against me.”

Jason set his gun down on the desk, stepped away from it. “Fine. I’m right here. If you want me gone so badly, come and get me.” He challenged, knowing that any attack orchestrated against him would offer Spinelli a chance at escape.

The rapidly devolving stalker paused for a moment, considering the challenge.

“S-stone Cold,” Spinelli stuttered out, paralyzed both by fear and the feel of the knife in such perilous proximity, but spurred into speaking by his mentor’s unadvised move. “What are you-” He started, but found himself cut off as he was roughly shoved to the floor. With the wind knocked out of him, it took him a moment to get to his feet again.

Franco was rushing forward toward Jason, knife well prepared to find its target.

Jason, again, was ready for his opponent’s action. It mirrored that of the previous attack. Predictable. The knife didn’t miss, per se; it left a small cut on his chest, but nothing deep or threatening. Jason had caught his attacker’s knife hand as it came down on him, and he took the opportunity to twist it. With a stubborn grip on the knife, his opponent went to his knees. But Franco kicked a leg out, sending Jason to the ground as well, and the struggle continued.

Spinelli, meanwhile still found himself trapped. They were fighting right in front of the door. He could probably cross behind Jason, but with both of them on the floor now, it was risky. His gaze landed on Jason’s gun.

“Spinelli,” Jason growled at him, as he and Franco fought over the knife. “Get out of here!”

He didn’t want to leave Jason here alone with the completely unhinged one, either. He picked the weapon up. It was cold and heavy in his hand, and there wasn’t a chance in hell of him firing the thing anywhere near Jason, so he squeezed his eyes shut and aimed his shot into the wall.

He missed, and the bullet embedded itself somewhere in the stairs, but it had the desired effect. It got their attention.

Franco scrambled to his feet, somehow still armed with the knife, looking quite pleased. “Damian, good thinking, my love. Take him out, get rid of him, will you?”

Jason stood as well, backing slowly away from Franco, who still stood between them and the door.

Against Franco’s words, and with Jason slowly moving to stand beside him, Spinelli raised the gun to level on Franco.

“What are you doing, my beloved? The game is over now. He forced you to do all that, you told me, so make him pay for his crimes!” Betrayal, confusion, alarm, flared in Franco’s eyes, but he still didn’t seem overly threatened by being Spinelli’s target, as if he were simply joking.

Spinelli was shaking again, trembling where he stood. Thankfully, his finger wasn’t on the trigger anymore, and Jason cautiously reached out to slip the gun from his unstable hands. “It’s okay.” He assured the younger man, but Spinelli didn’t seem to hear him.

Jason lined up the shot for himself, pulling the likely in shock Spinelli towards him – so he wouldn’t have to witness his attacker’s demise – and was well prepared to fire when unexpected noise erupted from the kitchen.

As far as they’d known, it had been Franco acting alone, but Jason wasn’t willing to risk chancing the presence of a partner. Reluctantly, the elder took his eyes off of Franco, but not the gun, turning to peer into the kitchen. He saw nothing.

“Stone Cold!” Spinelli warned, stunned out of his previous silence.

He turned back in time to see Franco lunging at him once more, despite the gun. He didn’t have time to readjust his aim and shoot, he was too close already. Any shot he took would only miss.

But then Franco was on the ground, unmoving, the knife lost somewhere beneath him. Spinelli had shoved the end-table sitting by the sofa forward, and Franco had tried to dodge it, falling instead.

Blood began to pool out from under the figure on the floor, and it became clear that Franco had fallen on his own knife. He still wasn’t moving; Jason doubted he’d be breathing for much longer if he even still was.

It was over.

The police would have to be called, Jason knew, but Spinelli was staring, transfixed, by the body on the floor, still shaking. Jason led him back upstairs, passed by the pink room - given that Spinelli’s clothes had changed, he figured that he’d been in there at some point with the stranger - and into his own room at the end of the hall.

Once safely away from everything related to the last 12 days, Spinelli broke down.

“It’s over,” Jason promised, sitting down beside him on the bed. “He’s gone, he can’t do anything anymore.”

Spinelli nodded slowly, and then promptly found himself pulled into Jason’s arms.

“What’d he do to you?” Jason asked. Not because he wanted to know, but because he had to. If that bastard had done anything…

The younger sniffled. “When the Jackal first arrived, we simply talked, but then he insisted that I take a shower, because he claimed that I had been contaminated through my interactions with you.” He explained, still trembling in Jason’s arms. “I, ugh, completed that task, and we talked a bit more, but then the unhinged one claimed that there was yet another part of his desired ritual that we had to first complete.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed and he found himself wishing that the stranger hadn’t tripped, if only so Jason could have killed him on his own.

“Franco – the unhinged one – assaulted me with a rather forceful kiss, and ripped my shirt open, as is still evident. I escaped his hold before he could do anything further and ran downstairs, and not long after that did you arrive.”

He stood, then, breaking the hold Spinelli had on him and crossed to his closet, pulling out one of several plain black shirts. “Here,” Jason said, it would be big on Spinelli’s smaller frame, but he offered it all the same and Spinelli eagerly accepted.

“Most appreciated, Stone Cold.” He answered, offering a small smile in return as he shrugged out of his own ruined shirt and pulled Jason’s over his head. Jason changed his own as well, relieved to see that the small nick on his chest had already stopped bleeding. “Perhaps… we should alert the proper authorities as to the condition of the remains downstairs?”

The elder nodded, glad that Spinelli seemed better now, and found the cell phone he’d left there when they’d abandoned the penthouse on day 5. He had a mountain of missed calls, but he’d sort that out later.

The police were there within moments, and Franco’s body was taken away. One very, very angry partridge no longer in a pear tree – who had obviously escaped the delusional man’s clean-up attempts and taken up residence on top of the refrigerator – was also located, thus explaining the noises that had distracted Jason during their standoff. Mac was surprisingly sympathetic to their predicament, especially once all of the evidence was turned over and the situation explained. It probably had something to do with realizing that Spinelli would no longer be attempting to pursue his no-longer-existent relationship with Maxie, now that he was apparently involved with the mobster.

“Assuming the Coroner backs up your story about the knife, the case will be closed.” Mac told them, as he prepared to leave.

Jason and Spinelli nodded their understanding, knowing that the findings would match up, and watched the CSI team leave not long after. The only thing remaining that proved there had been a dead body on the floor was the pool of blood where Franco had fallen.

“You want to get out of here?” Jason prompted, with plans to call on one of the organization’s employees to deal with the mess while they were gone. “Maybe grab some Christmas dinner at Kelly’s?”

Spinelli seemed to consider his offer for a moment, tugging at the sleeves of the too-long shirt he wore. “Make it Not-Christmas dinner and the Jackal would be most inclined to agree.”

Jason laughed, slinging an arm over the younger’s shoulders and steering him out the door. “Not-Christmas dinner it is, then.”