Tron Secret Santa 2014!

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December 19, 1980

The Christmas party was held down in the lab, which was now a riot of light and color – tacky blinking lights on all the railings, obnoxious metallic garlands on some of them, a ten-foot “it was a good idea in the 60's”artificial tree of an electric blue that matched the company logo towering in the center of it all. Add the now-lukewarm deli trays and someone's ghetto blaster belching static-filled “rock and roll” covers of holiday carols (did they just tape someone's garage band?),  the general din of conversation, and a glass of alcoholic punch. The whole thing was a sensory nightmare.  Alan was desperately looking for some relief.

The only spot that looked like it could offer some relief was in the corner, but it was already occupied. Lora was sitting in the corner looking about the way he felt; chin in one hand, styrofoam cup of punch in the other, eyes staring at the wall. 

They got off shift at the same time, and he would walk her to her car. After all, there were plenty of weirdos in LA and the garage wasn't properly lit or maintained. After a few weeks, it became routine, and if he had to stay a bit later to make sure she got to her car safely, so be it. It was only a couple weeks ago that she let him know that 'Lora' was fine by her, and that “Doctor Baines” was a good gesture, but not necessary.

Keep lying to yourself about the real reason you wait in the lobby until she gets off work, part of him scolded. But she has a type and you're not it.

All right, so he had a crush on her. So long as he didn't act on it or say anything, things would be just fine.

“Excuse me,” he said. “May I sit near you? I don't want to impose, but...”

“Have a seat,” she said. She was staring tiredly into her punch and it obviously wasn't her first of the night. He was going to just catch his breath and leave her alone when she finally spoke up.

“Looks like you're having as good a time as I am,” she said with a sigh.

He shrugged. “I'm not one for parties.”

She gave him a beautiful, but lopsided smile. “My bad mood shouldn't be infectious.”

“It's not. The noise is a bit much. And the food's awful,” he admitted.

She made a sarcastic suggestion. “Get another glass. It's almost tolerable.”

“Had a few already,” he said. “Hasn't improved.“

“So what are you doing for the holidays? Flying home to the family?”

“No family,” he had to admit. “My parents...well, they couldn't have any of their own, and I was adopted when they were older...” Another glass of that punch was looking like a good idea.

Her hand covered his. “I'm sorry.”

“It's all right.” Quick, polite reassurances, small talk. It was a good distraction from the din of a bad office party.

He really liked her hand being where it was, though.

Watch it.

They lapsed back into awkward silence, as the awful stereo croaked out “Winter Wonderland”

  Sleigh bells ring, are you listening, In the lane, snow is glistening A beautiful sight, We're happy tonight. Walking in a winter wonderland.

  No snow in downtown LA, and they weren't happy, and there weren't any sleigh bells...but there was a next best thing. And he could always blame the punch. 

“I could use some fresh air. Want to come with me?”

She tilted her head to one side to consider it, then a wide, radiant smile broke across her face. She got up, taking his hand and helping him to his feet. “About time you asked”

****

It was cool and clear outside. Bright street lamps and tacky Christmas lights made it easy enough to see. It wasn't even a matter of going anywhere in particular; they just picked a direction and kept going.

Lora didn't care much for destination, she was more preoccupied with the gentleman on her arm. Anyone other than Alan, and she'd expect some cheap come on or some thinly-disguised glances down her dress. Social awkwardness was typical for a room full of computer programmers, and during grad school, there were at least a dozen men for every woman who set foot in the advanced classes. Part of it was a difference in interest, part of it...

She didn’t speak much to her family anymore.

“Come on, just go for a Mrs. Degree,” her sister said. “He makes the bucks, you raise the kids.”

“You don’t need a Ph.D to teach school. That’s the only reason women take science majors, right?”

And the classic one from her mother,“You’ll never find a husband if you make him look stupid!”,

They were still on speaking terms, but not much more than that. Since her sister was now married with kids, the inevitable phone calls had changed to “when's your turn?”

Work was her passion, but it didn’t allow for much of a life.  Worse, she just ended things with Kevin; not to say the man wasn’t brilliant, funny, and well-intentioned; they just weren’t in college anymore, and he had no intentions of growing up. It was the right decision, but the prospect of spending the holidays alone just made December that much more…pointless.

She figured the company party was going to be the best it was going to get. She did not expect her attractive co-worker and self-appointed honor guard showing up and offering a rescue. Would it be so bad if...?

Without thinking, she leaned in a little closer. He stiffened and looked down at her, expression unreadable.

“Sorry, lost my balance,” she said, only lying a little. Maybe that punch was stronger than she thought.

He responded by putting his arm around her – not romantic, more protective. “Are you going to be all right? Maybe I should call you a cab.”

Guess he's not interested.

“I'm fine, Alan,” she said apologetically. Part to change the subject, and part because that punch really must have gone to here head, she suggested, “How about finding something to eat?”

****

They ended up in the most traditional restaurant for a Christmas gone wrong – cheap, hole-in-the-wall Chinese. Cheap Chinese, however, was a lot better than lukewarm deli trays, and the relative quiet loosened them both up.

“And then Gibbs said 'Here's the problem, son, it's not even plugged in!”'”

Alan tried not to choke on the chow mein. “Seriously? Douglas missed something that obvious?!” The mental image of Encom's chief handyman forgetting something as basic as electricity was far too funny a picture.

“Yeah, I know.” Lora said between laughs. “Cone on, you have to have a couple good ones!”

“Oh, I don't think I have a lot of good stories.”

“Go on,” she insisted.

“All right. There was this one time at scout camp...”

“You were a Boy Scout? Why am I not surprised?”

“Eagle Scout,” he corrected her. “So I was the senior boy in the troop; seventeen and a little stupid. I was showing the younger boys how to build a fire in case they ever got lost in the woods.”

“Ooooh. Seventeen year old boy and a chance to set something on fire.”

“Anyway, we had two re-purposed coffee cans in the scoutmaster's bunk. One was full of water. The other wasn't labeled. The scoutmaster had a small amount of gasoline for solvent and an emergency generator. And guess which can I grabbed.”

“Oh, that can't be good.”

“Yeah. Here I am with a big pile of leaves, brush, and kindling that I just got going with my pocketknife and flint, and then I grab the can of 'water' to put it out...”

“Oh, dear.”

“Let's just say the kids were impressed, but that my eyebrows took a while to grow back in.”

Lora's shoulders shook with laughter and her eyes were lit up with amusement. She leaned in a little, touching his cheek.

“They look fine now.”

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn he was leaning in for a kiss. He had the same shaky, stiff feeling like someone just asked him to go in front of the whole company and deliver the annual “state of Encom” report wearing nothing but his boxers. If she did, he wasn't sure if he wanted to stop her. Wasn't she dating someone already?

Don't kid yourself, you know damn well who's she's with, and how much he's everything you're not.

“Uh...thanks.”

She sat back down, slumping over. “I'm sorry, I should have known.”

Okay...”Should have known what?”

“You know what they say. Almost thirty and never married. So, which one is it? Taken or gay?”

What?!  “I think I'm missing something here.” Of course, the anxiety was making it very hard to think.

“Maybe it's both. I know you and Kleinburg -”

Alan shook his head to try and get some thought process back on line. “Roy is, I'm not!” He took a deep breath and a big gulp of his water. “Gay, I mean. I...like women. Well, more to the point...” Oh, this was going to get his ass kicked. He was not looking forward to that cowboy Flynn marching up to his desk and demanding a one on one in the parking garage.

The devil on his shoulder wasn't helping matters. You could probably kick his ass if you put your mind to it.

“You're seeing someone, and no matter what...” It was a sentence. Just a single sentence. Why was this so hard? “I'm not the one you want.”

Lora looked like she might as well have been splashed with the glass of ice water and sat back down slowly.  It was far too late to backpedal without digging himself in further. Trying to scrape up what remained of his dignity,  Alan threw some cash on the table to cover the check and put on his jacket. “I'm sorry. Chalk it up to the party if you have to. I'll understand.”

It was all he could do not to run out the door. 

****

Oh, this evening did not turn out anything like she planned. Might have been better for them both if they stayed at the awful party.

Think, Lora. Think.

Okay, assessing the facts. She had figured Alan was taken, gay, or both. None of the above turned out to be the case, and he just admitted he had a crush on he that he was just too painfully shy and honorable to do anything about. 

And you are on the rebound, missy. You just dumped Mr. Wrong five weeks ago. Now is not the time to go prey on the knight in shining armor who escorts you to your car. You are going to go out there, chalk it up to the punch, let him down gently, and the two of you are going to go back to being passing faces in the hall.

The devil on her shoulder was taking a different approach. Eagle scout. Bet he knows some good tricks with knots. And I'm betting he doesn't have a lot of experience, but I'm also betting he'd be a quick study.

Great. Now she was speculating whether or not he was a virgin.

Okay, this was enough.

She marched outside.

He had just hung up the phone and was waiting with hands in pockets, sitting on a bench. Lora walked up to him.

“It's over. Flynn and me.”

He peered up at her over his thick glasses. “Really?””

“Yeah.”

“Should I ask why?”

She shrugged. “Grew apart. More like I grew up and he didn't.” Sitting next to him on the bench, she looked into the distance.

Now he put his hand on hers. “I'm sorry.”

“It was my idea to end things, but...” Her eyes weren't just stinging because of the cold. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't use you...”

“Lora, you're not 'using' me. I think we're both as little lonely, a little tipsy, and it's getting the better of us.”

“We going to hop in a cab, go home, forget this happened, and spend Christmas alone?”

Silence. Maybe to be expected.

“I don't want to.” he finally said. “I don't want any of that.”

And that's when the cab pulled up.

“I don't want that, either,” she admitted.

They climbed in the back of the cab and handed the cabbie all the cash they had in their wallets. “Can you take us to see some good Christmas lights?”

The cabbie inspected the bills and replied with a thumbs up, then pointed to the back of the cab – right above their heads.

“Oh,” she said giggling and pointing above his head. “Mistletoe!”

He tried to glance up to see it, “Really? Wh -?”

She didn't give him a chance to complete the thought.

****

Sunlight filtered through the curtains at just the wrong angle to wake her up to a monstrous headache. Lora ticked off the basics; this was her own apartment. The rotten taste in her mouth reminded her why she had the headache; the Encom Christmas party, where both the equipment and the techs were liberally cooled with alcohol. Sighing, she sat up and fumbled for the pitcher on her nightstand. Grabbing her glasses and clumsily (but successfully) managing to pour herself a tumbler of water, she looked around her room.

Clothing was everywhere – more than usual. Her dress from the night before was tossed over the back of a chair and it looked like it got ripped around the zipper. Worse, Alan's sport jacket was neatly (well, relatively) lain on the dresser. There was also a set of matching slacks on the floor and the button-down shirt that probably had been properly starched and pressed at one point, but was now crumpled in the corner.

She didn't recall much, but she did recall that once Alan did allow himself to lose control, the end result was...amazing.

She padded to the door and peeked out. Not only was he staying for breakfast, he was cooking it. Where had this man been all her life?

“Lora?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

He turned away from the stove. “I was thinking. Since neither of us has anywhere to go for Christmas, do you want to come over to my house? You know, have some dinner, watch It's a Wonderful Life? I took a menu from the Chinese place. They'll deliver on Christmas.”

“Christmas? Christmas sounds good.” You realize you hit the jackpot here, she reminded herself. Be careful, don't break his heart.