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Chapter Text

x

"No," Izzy said, not even looking up from his computer.

Lucius stopped pouting, since that obviously wasn't going to be effective if Izzy wasn't looking, and instead adopted a pleading tone. "Just one wreath on the outside of your door, Izzy. Where's your Christmas spirit?"

"Not happening," said Izzy. "Get out." He pointed past Lucius to the rest of the office which had been transformed with Christmas decor. There were garlands and tinsel spanning the walls, Christmas lights twinkling amid the greenery, a miniature Christmas tree set up on one of the large co-working tables, and even stockings hung up in the breakroom next to the ten-foot Christmas tree that Stede had bought for the office.

Lucius rolled his eyes and stomped away, leaving the door to Izzy's office open. The open-concept office where almost everyone worked had gotten the full Christmas decoration treatment courtesy of Lucius. Stede had done the tree in the breakroom, sure, but it was Lucius who made the custom stockings with each of his coworkers' names on them, Lucius who made snow-person decals with Santa hats to put on the walls, Lucius who had put up wreaths on the doors to all the offices and the conference room and the bathrooms. The only space that remained untouched by Christmas cheer was Izzy's office between Ed's and Stede's. No twinkling lights, no boughs of holly, not even a candy cane.

In fact, the garlands stopped on either side of the door to Izzy's office. Lucius thought that was rather unnecessary; it could have just gone on the bit of wall above the doorframe, but Izzy had glared and threatened to tear it down, so...

"Izzy's like the Grinch," Lucius said, dramatically flopping into the chair next to Pete. "I need to figure out how to make his heart grow three sizes so he loves Christmas and lets us decorate. I mean, I've tried everything. I even found a Leather Daddy Santa figurine for him, and he threw it at me!"

"Don't let it get to you, babe," Pete said, patting Lucius's leg. "He's a dick to everyone. It's nothing personal."

"You did put mistletoe above his office door," Wee John pointed out. "It might be a little personal."

"He noticed it immediately," Lucius said sulkily, leaning his head on Pete's shoulder. "I don't understand. He can be a miserable dick with a stick up his ass, but that doesn't mean he gets to ruin Christmas for the rest of us."

Lucius failed to notice the irony of saying this in an office that resembled Santa's village, of course.

--

So maybe Lucius opened the good eggnog, the kind with a lot of alcohol. Maybe he turned on the Hallmark channel and watched, like, five Christmas movies in a row. Maybe he also watched the version of A Christmas Carol with the Muppets, because that was the only one he knew existed. And maybe, under the influence of a lot of alcohol and true-meaning-of-Christmas stories and the two grumpy old Muppets that made terrible jokes, he came up with a plan to get Izzy to love Christmas.

Or something. Lucius thought he was just so-so, but he liked to carry himself like he was cute, and he was really good at flirting and sex. Izzy was hot, too. Like, silver fox. Leather daddy. That rasping voice calling Lucius a good boy was a frequent fantasy in his spank bank. He knew Izzy was queer, of course, because everyone in the workplace was, and because Izzy had a little pride flag in his pen holder. It was, like, the only bit of color in Izzy's office. Anyway, the plan was to seduce Izzy and show him the magic of Christmas, just like all the Hallmark movies. It was going to work.

"You got this, babe," Pete said, because he was the most supportive boyfriend ever.

--

I

"Izzy! I made cookies for you," Lucius said, swanning into Izzy's office with a tray of sugar cookies.

"Didn't you tell everyone you were hopeless in the kitchen so that you got assigned to bring drinks and cutlery to the company potluck?" Izzy asked, fully engrossed in whatever was on his screen. Probably, like, a spreadsheet or something. Lucius didn't know what Izzy did, but he was probably a spreadsheet guy.

"Okay, yes, but I got Roach to bake the cookies and I decorated them," said Lucius. "So basically I did make them. And they're for you." He pushed the tray in front of Izzy's face, catching a glimpse of the computer screen as he did (a massive color-coded spreadsheet that kind of intimidated Lucius).

Izzy's nose wrinkled as he took in the sugar cookies in the shapes of Christmas trees and Santa hats, decorated with colorful icing and glittery red and green sugar crystals. "I'm allergic," he said, pushing the tray away.

"To what? They're nut-free, because of Frenchie, you know."

"Just take them away, Spriggs," Izzy said, craning his neck around the plate to see his spreadsheet. "And fuck off with the Christmas shit. I'm not participating."

Lucius sniffed and flounced away as pettily as he knew how, biting into one of the cookies. Fine, so maybe he couldn't melt Izzy's icy heart with delicious cookies, but that didn't mean he was out of ideas! He shared the cookies with the rest of the office, purposely distributing them just outside Izzy's door and encouraging his coworkers to loudly declare how delicious and festive they were.

Still no luck. Izzy ignored them all, and Ed took three cookies. Three! Even Lucius had only eaten two—and yes, fine, the broken ones, the ones that got slightly burnt on the edges (because even an excellent baker and cook like Roach couldn't help that Lucius's oven didn't heat evenly), and the ones that Lucius had drawn dicks on with icing (he was an artist and the white royal icing kinda looked like—never mind, the important thing was that he recognized that Izzy would have probably gone apoplectic if Lucius had given him those, so they were for him to share with Pete and Fang). Whatever, so Ed ate more than his fair share but there were still enough cookies for Izzy. Lucius ended up leaving the tray in the breakroom after almost everyone had left for the day, hoping that perhaps Izzy would eat one if he thought there was no one around to catch him, but no, not even then! Izzy wandered into the breakroom for his evening coffee around half five, noticed the plate sitting out, then covered it in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge!

Okay, that was, like, really thoughtful. Lucius only seethed a little from his hiding spot behind the ginormous tree.

II

"It's Secret Santa," Lucius said, holding out the Christmas stocking and shaking it so the little nametags in it clattered about. "And you have to participate because your name is in there and someone might have picked it and that means you're getting a gift, and you can't get a gift if you don't give one."

Izzy raised an eyebrow. "Or I can just tell everyone in the office that if they picked me for Secret Santa, I'm not taking part and they need to pick someone else."

"No you can't!" Lucius gasped in horror, hand to his forehead in a theatrical display. "That would violate the sanctity of Secret Santa!"

"Besides, you probably rigged it so you've got me and I've got you or something," Izzy said, which was completely wrong, absolutely incorrect, totally not—and Izzy was grabbing the stocking and tipping it out and turning over the half-dozen nametags that all said Lucius Spriggs.

"You were the last one to pick and I wanted to give you the illusion of choice," Lucius said with a straight face. Well, as straight as he could manage, being as camp as he was.

"And how'd you know you didn't get picked already? What was that you were saying about the sanctity of Secret Santa?" Izzy swept the nametags into the trash bin and tossed the stocking back at Lucius. "I told you to fuck off with this, Spriggs. Go have your true meaning of Christmas with someone who's interested and leave me the fuck alone." The last words were said in a low growl that Lucius had to admit he found sexy, even if he'd never actually say that to Izzy. Maybe the "seducing Izzy" part of the plan was doomed, but he still was determined to show Izzy how wonderful and magical Christmas could be. He clutched the empty Christmas stocking to his chest and retreated from Izzy's office.

Pete rubbed Lucius's shoulder reassuringly as they walked back to the co-working table. "Don't worry, babe, we can still do Secret Santa without Izzy."

"The whole point was to get Izzy to participate," Lucius said bitchily. "I don't even like Secret Santa. I'm more a white elephant girlie, you know that."

"Are we gonna do a white elephant exchange?" Jim asked, looking up from their laptop. "I fuckin' love those."

"Where do we get a white elephant?" the Swede asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "I do not think they would fit in the office."

"I know where you can get white snakes," Archie said. "Maybe my snake guy knows where you can get elephants, too."

Lucius's forehead lowered to the table. "Oh my fucking god," he moaned, as Jim, Pete, and Frenchie all began simultaneously attempting to explain the concept of a white elephant exchange.

III

It was easy enough to add a "strategy meeting" to Izzy's calendar. Lucius recruited Wee John to help with set dressing, dividing the conference room into three separate areas. And yes, Lucius had definitely come up with this plan after too much eggnog and watching Michael Caine acting around lots of Muppets as if it was the Royal Shakespeare Company. And obviously he had no idea about Izzy's childhood, but whatever, he could call it 'artistic license' or something. How was Izzy supposed to recognize the doll they were using to represent his child self unless it had a tattoo and goatee?

The second section had Tiny Jim, who had to be bribed to participate. They'd asked Lucius for their lines, which Lucius honestly hadn't thought of, and in desperation he blurted out, "I'm a little sick boy and me legs are sticks!"

Anyway, Jim was never going to let him live this down and they kept repeating that in a high-pitched voice before doubling over with laughter.

The final section with the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come was the pièce de résistance, truly some of Lucius's best work. Which was a damn shame, considering that Izzy had entered the conference room with a full coffee mug, taken one look at the bedsheet ghost costume and fuzzy cuffs that Lucius was attempting to pass off as chains, and said, "I'd rather not have to write you up for a dress code violation, twatty, so you'd better have something on under that sheet."

"I'm the ghost of Christmas past," Pete said unhelpfully, rattling his cuffs with enthusiasm.

"And I'm the bloody king of England," said Izzy, turning on his heel. "Fuck off. Again."

"You can't go until you see the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come," Lucius said pathetically as Izzy walked away with his middle finger in the air.

"I didn't get to say my line," said Jim, poking their head out from around the curtain dividing Christmas Present from Christmas Past. "D'you think Stede will want to hear it instead?"

IV

"First of all, the company holiday cards were designed and ordered weeks ago," Izzy said, leaning back in his office chair with his feet propped on his desk. "Which you would have known if you ever read your fuckin' emails, because Stede CC'd you on every one of them. Or if you were any good at your job as an executive assistant, because then you'd know that you can't order corporate holiday cards on December 15th and get them sent out on time. Second of all, the company holiday card would absolutely not feature me in a light-up Christmas jumper that says 'TITS THE SEASON' on it."

"Okay, rude," Lucius said, the arm holding the offending sweater dropping to his side. "But would you wear it anyway? I expensed it and I feel like Stede's going to need a good explanation for this one."

The look that Izzy gave Lucius could have peeled paint. "Wear it yourself, you tart. And fuckin' quit it with this Christmas shit already. I told you I'm not doing it a dozen times and I'm about out of patience. Bring this shit up again and I'll force you to handle all the correspondence from that piece of shit Banes for the next year."

Lucius shuddered and retreated but he wasn't done yet. He was going to get Izzy to embrace the Christmas spirit if it fucking killed the both of them. It was a matter of pride now.

Also he needed to figure out how to return the ugly Christmas sweater before Stede spotted the charge on the company credit card. Lucius had managed to get some nice computer equipment past him by claiming it was for the office, but the man was a clothes horse and absolutely would notice this purchase. Lucius wasn't sure the "must be a fraudulent purchase" excuse would work for this.

IV

"Lucius. HR. Now." Stede's tone brooked no arguments and Lucius feverishly wondered what he'd done to get Stede speaking sternly to him. Especially first thing in the morning, before Lucius had even gotten a coffee from the fancy machine in the breakroom.

Uncaffeinated, Lucius entered Oluwande's office. It was on the opposite side of the main work area from the executive offices because Olu insisted that at this company at least, human resources worked for the employees, not the c-suite. And generally speaking, Olu was great. He didn't make a huge deal about relationships in the workplace, probably because that would have been hypocritical of him; he managed to get Stede to stop with the weird team-building exercises that everyone hated; he was likely the main reason that Izzy hadn't killed them all in the first few months following the merger with Blackbeard.

Oh. Izzy. Yes, that was probably what this was about. Not that the man was in Olu's office, but Lucius recognized the crushed, fuzzy green ornament on Olu's desk as the one he'd hung over Izzy's chair last night. Also the pile of torn wrapping paper.

Yes, Lucius understood. "Look, it was just a harmless prank," he said as he sat down across from Olu. "I mean, yes, I did put gift wrap on everything in his office, but I didn't, like, break or steal anything. Or look at anything confidential."

Olu sighed. "It's not about the gift wrap. Not only, I mean. Come on, Lucius, you came like this close to a hate crime."

Lucius's jaw fell open. "What the fuck are you talking about? Moi, commit a hate crime? I just hung up a Grinch ornament!"

Olu stared directly into Lucius's eyes, face serious. "How many Christians do you know named 'Israel', really?"

Oh. Oh. "Oh," Lucius said, feeling his cheeks flush as he viewed all his actions over the past few weeks in new context. "Oh my god, I didn't even think... He didn't say he was Jewish!"

"He doesn't have to," Olu went on. "And he's not the only one in the office who doesn't celebrate Christmas. Ivan's Muslim, Roach is an atheist, Archie was part of a snake cult, and Buttons is... Well, honestly, I don't know what Buttons's religion is but I've had to talk to him about proselytizing about the moon more than once, so I wouldn't advise that you ask him about it unless you want to hear him talk for an hour at least. But anyway, the point is that it really shouldn't have gotten this far. We respect each other's boundaries in this office, you know that."

Lucius nodded, cheeks still flaming. "God, I'm so sorry. I was just..."

Olu waved a hand, cutting him off. "You don't need to apologize to me, Lucius. Save it for Izzy."

"He's going to kill me," Lucius said in a small voice. "They'll never find my body, and I have tickets to see Sabrina Carpenter. I'm too young to die."

Olu rolled his eyes. "If Izzy was planning to kill you, do you really think he'd have come to HR to ask me to talk to you first?"

"He's lulling me into a false sense of security. All of us! He's got you fooled so you won't suspect him," Lucius said, leaning over the desk and grabbing Olu's arm. "I need to get into witness protection!"

Oluwande pried Lucius's hand from his bicep. "You're going to be fine. Come on, let's get you a coffee so you can work on your apology."

Like a fool, Lucius followed him. Like an absolute fool, he didn't realize they were heading for the conference room instead of the breakroom until Olu pushed him inside and shut the door, leaving Lucius in the remains of his Izzy's Christmas Carol set. Where Izzy was sitting at the big conference table. Next to the fake gravestone with a cross on it that said ISRAEL HANDS and—

"Oh my god I'm so fucking sorry, I'm a complete idiot, please don't kill me."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a dramatic twat?" Izzy asked in a calm rasp, watching Lucius kneeling on the floor like a needy supplicant.

"Only, like, since I was five years old and insisted on wearing a pink feather boa to my first day of kindergarten," Lucius said, feeling detached from his body. Maybe he was becoming one of the ghosts. "Why am I telling you that?"

Izzy sighed, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. "Spriggs, I'm not gonna fuckin' hurt you."

"Physically, you mean," Lucius said, still cowering.

"For fuck's sake," said Izzy. He pushed one of the stupidly comfortable conference room chairs over. "Get off the floor and sit down so we can talk face to face, Spriggs. I can't take you seriously on your knees."

Lucius's soul must have left his body because he didn't make a lewd comment, just pulled himself up onto the chair and mumbled another apology.

Izzy slid a steaming mug over, one that said UNT and had the handle form a C. It wasn't one Lucius recognized, which was suspicious, but it did smell like a peppermint mocha latte, which... "It's not poisoned, twatty," Izzy said. "I know Stede grabbed you before you got a coffee and you're even more useless without caffeine than you usually are." He paused, then went on, "If it makes you feel any better, I've been told I'm unsafe to be around before my second cup of coffee."

Lucius barked out a sound that he barely recognized as a laugh, then picked up the mug and took a sip. It tasted right, at least. "Thank you," he said, because he really didn't know what else to say.

"I'm not gonna say I'm not pissed off at you," Izzy said, "because I still kind of am. I asked you to respect my boundaries and you trampled right over them instead of using your fuckin' brain for once." He rubbed at his goatee with one hand, eyes looking distant. "I know I haven't been... Easy to get along with since merging with your lot. There were a lot of changes happening with my responsibilities and documents that needed to be sorted out and Stede didn't have any of that shit in order, plus the relationship shit, so..." Izzy shook his head. "I know I was a dick early on, but I hope... I mean, I know I've been trying to do things in a more... Whatever the fuck Bonnet calls it. People-positive management system?"

Lucius nodded hesitantly. "Stede likes his buzzwords. Er, I have noticed less yelling from you, I suppose. Just didn't give it much thought, because I was kind of tuning you out any time you shouted anyway. Sorry about that too, I guess."

"Unwrap everything in my office and quit bugging me about Christmas shit and I'll call it even," Izzy said. "I won't yell at you to do your job so long as the work gets done. Deal?" He held out his hand.

Lucius shook his hand. "Deal."

Still in a bit of a daze, Lucius followed Izzy out of the conference room to his office. Izzy had very few personal items in his office, which was part of why Lucius had been able to quickly finish putting wrapping paper on everything the evening before, but the only things he had unwrapped were the computer monitor and a very bright little lamp on his desk. Izzy leaned against the wall next to the desk, since his chair was still covered in Santa wrapping paper, and turned the lamp so it faced him.

"Get unwrapping, then," Izzy said, crossing his arms.

For a while, the only sounds were from Lucius tearing and crumpling up the wrapping paper. He was working on a particularly stubborn bit of tape stuck to the desk when he felt brave enough to glance over at Izzy who was still standing in the light of the lamp and say, "Can I ask a question?"

"Yes, the stupid lamp is for SAD," Izzy said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"That wasn—I have one too, but that's not what I was gonna ask about," said Lucius.

"Oh." There was a slight flush to Izzy's cheeks. "Well, go ahead."

"Um, so, you're Jewish, right? And you celebrate Hanukkah, yeah? So, like... Is there a way to get into the Hanukkah spirit?" Lucius asked nervously.

Izzy grinned, showing his teeth. "The Hanukkah spirit is the spirit of killing people who try to make us celebrate their holidays, twatty."

"Okay, yeah, forget I asked," said Lucius, clawing the last bit of tape off the desk. "Er, I think that's it, so I'll just go?"

Izzy jerked his head towards the door. "Go ahead. Don't forget your mug, though."

Lucius looked down at the mostly-empty CUNT mug he'd put down on Izzy's desk. "Oh, I'll bring it back once it's washed," he said.

Izzy shook his head. "Consider it the Secret Santa gift," he said. "It's all yours."

Lucius picked up the mug, a small smile blooming on his face as he considered it. "I actually really love this," he said. "But you know there wasn't really a Secret Santa, yeah?"

Izzy waved him away, moving to sit at his desk. "Call it a peace offering, then."

+1

Izzy liked to get into work early. He had always been an early riser and if he got to the office before anyone else, he'd be able to work uninterrupted until most people arrived between eight and nine and the room outside his office got loud and chaotic.

Despite arriving earlier than everyone else, he usually left after five in the afternoon. Taking public transport before the sun was up was fine, but Izzy appreciated the shared time with Stede (and Ed, when he came to the office) driving them home. Besides, being one of the first to arrive and last to leave meant it was much tougher for people to pull one over on him. He had secretly been a little impressed by Lucius's wrapping paper prank, considering the twat usually was out the door the second the clock hit five.

This morning, Izzy unlocked the door and switched on the lights, stopping by his office for his coffee mug. The sun lamp was already on, programmed to go on automatically because Stede had said it worked best when it was on at the same time each day, like Izzy was some kind of plant that needed photosynthesis.

Yes, it worked. He still felt stupid sitting in front of it for an hour each day, but he had to admit it really did work, and sometimes he'd leave it on a slightly lower setting than burn-the-seasonal-depression-out-of-your-retinas brightness for the whole morning.

Today there was something in front of the lamp and Izzy frowned until he recognized it for what it was. There on his desk with a little blue bow was a brass nameplate that said, "FUCKER IN CHARGE OF YOU FUCKING FUCKS" and a note that read, "Happy Hanukkah! <3 Lucius"

Chapter Text

First of all, here's a disclaimer that everything here is my own personal opinion/experience and is not necessarily true for any other Jewish people you know. Plenty of Jews come from multifaith families and celebrate Christmas as well as Chanukah. This isn't about them, it's about me. Okay, maybe there's a bit of Festivus in here because I'm about to list some grievances.

Thing is, I live in the USA (did I fool you with my ability to write British people? Probably not, because I left out all the extra Us that y'all like so much) and as much as some folks like to claim that the USA is not a Christian country (or as much as certain folks currently in positions of power in the federal government like to claim that the USA is a Christian country), the fact is that the USA considers Christianity to be the default, and at times, only correct religion. You probably know that, of course, because certain people in the USA also considers being cis and heterosexual and white and male to be the default and only correct way to exist. Also they consider poverty a moral failing. But I'm here to focus on the de facto Christian identity of the USA (which yes, is absolutely tied to white supremacy, white Christian nationalism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, Christian Zionism, and more—but I'm literally writing a fuckin' diatribe as an addendum to a fuckin' fanfic, a kind of crack fanfic no less, and it's kind of a fucking bummer to get into all of that).

Contrary to what Fox News would have you believe, there is no war on Christmas. From the moment Thanksgiving ends in the US (hell, before!!!! You know who's in the last float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade? Fuckin' Santa!), it's like a switch is flipped and suddenly everything is covered in tinsel, every goddamn store is playing Christmas music nonstop, the Starbucks Christmas cups are out (btw boycott Starbucks for BDS and workers' rights reasons, since as of this writing the SBU is on strike), and yes, your corporate overlords may have written "Happy Holidays" on their cards and told you they're throwing a holiday party, but we know exactly what holidays they are talking about. It's not Chanukah, and it absolutely isn't Kwanzaa, or the Solstice, or anything but Christmas and New Year's. There's no question that I will get the day off on December 25th every year, but I have to use PTO in order to observe the Jewish high holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

If you haven't decorated your house or office for Christmas, if you aren't participating in Christmas-oriented activities put on by friends and coworkers like ugly sweaters, secret Santa, caroling, plays, etc, then sometimes you get called a Grinch or a Scrooge. It's assumed you're just a Christian who doesn't like Christmas. "Happy holidays" is the bare minimum acknowledgement of a holiday other than Christmas existing somewhere around November/December (the Jewish calendar is lunar-based, but we have a leap month every once in a while to keep our holidays in the correct seasons, which is why the Jewish holidays aren't on the same day every year according to the Gregorian calendar). However, Christians haven't bothered to learn a damn thing about Chanukah, instead elevating it to the same importance as Christmas is to Christians, and attempting to dress up Christmas traditions in a Jewish costume in order to feel like they're being inclusive. We light candles, eat fried foods, and play dreidel. We do not need your ugly sweaters, ornaments, elves on shelves. There's a card I've seen that someone thought was funny, with a bunch of attempts at spelling Chanukah crossed out and "Jewish Christmas" written instead, and I think that basically sums up what most Christians know about Jewish holidays and customs. Well, that and the Christian Zionists leaning into the "dual loyalty" antisemitic trope (and their entire motivation for supporting Israel being antisemitic) while also accusing me of antisemitism just because I am calling out Israel for committing genocide.

I wrote most of this before the massacre at Bondi Beach in Australia. I wrote it with the knowledge that Palestinians in Gaza are facing another cold winter while genocide continues—because the IDF is still bombing Gaza even though there's supposedly a ceasefire. I wrote it knowing that the story of Chanukah is about Jews living under an oppressive occupation that sought to destroy and stamp out Jewish customs and religion, about Jews using armed resistance to overthrow said occupation. I wrote it a fanfiction about a character based on a real person who almost certainly wasn't Jewish, but whose name is Israel and who I chose to make Jewish for this story, because... Well, my Judaism does not belong to the state of Israel. Wherever I live, that's my homeland. But it was the ancestral lands of the Narragansett and Wampanoag peoples first, and it's my duty to pay respects to the original stewards of the land, my duty to support and uplift the people who live here today.

Chanukah is about bringing light to the world, and that was one of the motivations for giving Izzy Seasonal Affective Disorder. I've also got it, in addition to your bog-standard depression (and anxiety and autism and ADHD—brains, they're great!) and I hate that sitting in front of my ridiculously bright lamp for like an hour every morning actually helps me to feel less lethargic and crummy in the winter, considering that I would prefer to be a Creature of the Night who dresses in all black and so on and so forth. SAD lamp in the morning, Chanukah candles in the evening, each bringing a little more light to a dark season (in my part of the world, at least). Because shit is bad right now, really bad for a lot of people in a lot of places, and sometimes it feels like the darkness is going to overwhelm you because there's just so fucking much of it. The chanukiah (you probably know it as a menorah, same thing basically) has one light for every night of Chanukah, plus one, the shamash, the helper. We use that flame to light the others. Find your shamash. Be a shamash for others. Bring a little more light to this dark place and keep fucking fighting against the assholes who would see you snuffed out.