Chapter Text
RDART didn’t celebrate Christmas.
They celebrated Gift Exchange Day, which was completely different and definitely not Christmas, according to the flyers taped everywhere that read:
GIFT EXCHANGE DAY
A Celebration of Generosity, Community, and Capitalism (But Make It Ethical)
The Dawkinsist common room was in chaos.
Mary sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully wrapping gifts in recycled brown paper and twine. Karen lay beside her, legs kicked up in the air, aggressively cutting out paper snowflakes shaped like atoms, dinosaurs, and question marks.
“This one looks like a duck,” Karen said proudly.
“That is a snowflake,” Mary replied calmly.
“It’s abstract.”
Mary sighed but smiled anyway.
They worked in companionable silence for a moment.
“I like Gift Exchange Day,” Karen said suddenly. “No pressure. No guilt. No weird songs about birthdays.”
Mary nodded. “And no one gets mad if you say ‘happy holidays’.”
Karen beamed. “Exactly.”
She glanced over at Mary, cheeks faintly pink.
“You look cute when you concentrate.”
Mary paused mid-wrap.
“…Thank you,” she said, very carefully, as if afraid to drop the moment.
Karen grinned and went back to cutting ducks—sorry, snowflakes.
---
Across the room, Ronnie and Derrick were attempting to decorate.
This meant Ronnie was doing it correctly, while Derrick was hanging lights in ways that were technically functional but spiritually upsetting.
“Those lights are uneven,” Ronnie said.
“They’re asymmetrically expressive,” Derrick replied.
Ronnie adjusted them anyway.
Nearby, Susan stood on a chair, hanging a banner that read:
JOY THROUGH REASON
Ronnie cleared his throat.
“So,” he said, very casually, which fooled absolutely no one,
“do you… enjoy the holiday season?”
Susan glanced down at him, amused.
“I enjoy baked goods and time off from exams.”
Ronnie nodded. “Same. I, uh— I was wondering if maybe you’d like to… exchange gifts? Just us?”
Susan smiled softly.
“That sounds nice, Ronnie.”
Ronnie’s brain promptly short-circuited.
He walked directly into a bookshelf.
---
On the other side of the room, Rocky was helping Derrick tape up paper chains made of recycled debate notes.
Derrick fidgeted.
“…Hey,” he said, not making eye contact.
“Do you—uh—like… Gift Exchange Day?”
Rocky raised an eyebrow, smiling.
“I do. Especially the snacks.”
“Oh. Cool. Yeah. Same.”
A pause.
Derrick blurted,
“I think you’re really cool.”
Rocky blinked, then smiled warmly.
“Thanks, man. That means a lot.”
Derrick nodded, face burning, and immediately went back to taping chains with way too much focus.
Rocky chuckled quietly and helped him straighten one.
---
Tommy watched all of this from the couch, atheist plush in his lap, feeling strangely… peaceful.
No one was arguing.
No one was afraid.
No one was pretending to be someone else.
Just friends.
Decorations.
Awkward crushes.
And a holiday built on choosing kindness instead of obligation.
Mary finished wrapping the last gift and looked around the room.
“This,” she said softly, “feels nice.”
Karen nodded and leaned her head against Mary’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” she said. “It really does.”
And for the first time, Tommy thought:
Maybe this was what the holidays were supposed to feel like.