"Uh-huh, I'm going to eventually need that back, dweeb." He chided with a grin as he watched you use his crutch, putting your weight on it and then doing a halfhearted push forward, mindless enjoyment as he leaned against the counter. The bedazzled sunglasses in the shape of stars that you'd gifted to him as a joke sat firmly up his face.

When the two of you had been younger, the holidays had been something you both almost dreaded, with the cheer-y smiles on everyone's faces only serving as a reminder of the quiet nature of your own home. Your father gone in the states and your mother working any job she could to get by, though now the holidays were simply a time that you knew your brother would be home and spending time with you. The nature of his job usually entitled him not talking to you for months at a time or even years, so to have the knowledge that if it was humanly possible, he would find a way to swing by your house for the holidays served as something to look forward to. So yes, the decorated tree and lights around the neighborhood were nice, but it was nicer just to know that he was alive after those four years of absence where you had been convinced he'd died. But he was back, say for missing a few limbs and a large portion of his vision.

He adjusted the collar of his shirt, a purple one you'd gifted him with the words "It's 5 o'clock somewhere" written in glittery gold letters, you'd given it to him as a joke a few years ago but he'd made it a point to keep it in almost peak condition as well as ensuring that he wore it whenever he drank as a half hearted joke. You were more surprised he'd even remembered it after four years of whatever hellish torture he'd been made to endure, if the roles were reversed you couldn't be sure if you'd even remember the running joke. But right now a cocktail with eggnog sat in his hand as he watched you walk over and return his crutch to him. He thanked you and gave you a warm glance before stating as he teasingly slugged you in the arm: "Happy holidays."