“You hit your brother with a tire iron?” Fenton Hardy stared at his older son incredulously. “A tire iron?”

“Yeah, but it was an accident,” Frank quickly reminded his father, raising his eyebrows in an encouraging gesture.

“Oh and that makes it so much better…” the investigator snorted as he scrubbed a hand across his face.

“Is he okay?” Frank’s mother demanded. She reached out and grabbed his arm imploringly. “Frank?”

Frank now regretted leaving his brother in the van, “He’s fine, Mom,” he tried to assure her. “He’s got a bit of a concussion and a few stitches—”

“I think we need to work on your definition of the word ‘fine’, young man,” Laura snorted then released his arm and started towards the terminal door, a small red tagalong being pulled behind her. “Concussion and stitches are anything but fine!”

“Mooommmm….” Frank whined even as he fell in line behind her; his father trailed them as he pushed the luggage cart. “If it makes you feel any better, he clocked me real good! Darn near broke my jaw!”

The petite blond woman stopped in her tracks, whirled around and grabbed Frank’s face in a surprisingly strong grip before he could move away. She tilted his head to the side to take a good look at the red mark on his jaw. Her eyes softened and she sighed heavily. “No, Frank, it doesn’t…. Believe it or not, I actually don’t like hearing tell of either of my sons getting hurt – and especially not about them hurting each other,” she shook her head to silence his protest, “even by accident.”

Frank lowered his gaze. He felt about two. “Sorry, Mom.”

Laura released his chin and gently traced the outline of the bruise, “Its okay, sweetie, I just need to see your brother – I need to see that he’s okay.”

The nineteen year old nodded. He knew about that kind of need. His father’s hand clasped his shoulder warmly and gave it a squeeze. Frank swallowed, “Okay,” and took the lead, “I left him dozing in the van.”

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Joe was supposed to be resting in the van. He knew that. In fact he’d promised his brother that. However as he pressed his aching head against the passenger side window and relished the numbing coolness, he saw something that caught his eye –

And thought immediately about his brother. Yes, Frank would kill him if he got back to the vehicle and Joe was gone, BUT if Joe timed this right, he could get it and get back with his older brother being none the wiser.

Of course Joe forgot one very important thing. He really couldn’t walk very well on his own.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

“Frank?” Fenton’s brow furrowed as they finally saw the vehicle, “What happened to your van?”

“Huh?” For one moment Frank had completely forgotten about the big Hank-car-sized dent in the passenger side. It really was amazing the doors opened actually. And then he grimaced. How in the world could anyone forget about Hank? “Uh,” he hedged and then chuckled awkwardly, “Actually there is a very funny story to go along with that—”

“Frank?” Something in his mother’s voice sent a chill down his spine. She stood by the passenger side window and was peering inside. “Where’s your brother?”

The dark haired teen stared stupidly at her. Joe was in the van, where else would he be? And then realization struck and he scrambled towards the van.

Quickly unlocking the side door, Frank threw it open –

“Joe?” his father’s deep voice bellowed –

But the van was empty. Joe was gone.

Frank was so going to kill his brother…again. Once he found him, of course…again.

Laura cupped her hands to her mouth and called out, “Joe!”

“He’s got a concussion,” his father needlessly reminded them as they prepared to search the parking lot for their wayward family member, “he couldn’t have gotten very far.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Frank muttered under his breath and then frowned when he thought he heard something. Holding up his hands to silence his parents, he listened intently. His frown deepened – it sounded like –

“Frank!”

Joe?

His father must have heard it too because he yelled out, “Joe? Where are you son?” They waited, barely daring to breathe, until they heard it again – Dad – this time it sounded closer –

In fact it was coming from the other side of the van!

Slipping in their haste to get to the driver’s side, the Hardys let out a collective sigh of relief. There was Joe, sprawled in the snow with his back pressed against the front tire of the van. He smiled sheepishly when he saw them. “I-I th-thought I could g-get there and b-b-back.” He shivered violently.

“There and back?” Laura pushed past Frank and Fenton and crouched down next to her baby, hastily taking off her scarf to wrap around him. “Where were you trying to go?”

“Th-there,” Joe raised a trembling hand – where were his gloves? – and pointed towards a deep bank of snow. “W-wanted to g-get F-F-Frank something c-cold for his j-j-jaw.”

Frank looked from the snow Joe was sitting in to the snow Joe was pointing at. “Uh, bro,” he exchanged a worried look with his father. “While I appreciate the thought…what’s wrong with the snow you’re sitting in?”

Joe scowled at him – or rather tried to but much of the effect was lost in the bone jarring shivering. Just how long has the stupid ass been sitting in the snow freezing his ass off? “I-I w-wanted w-w-white s-snow. Only th-the b-b-best for my br-br-brother.”

Laura and Fenton both looked at Frank who just hung his head and let out a heavy sigh. It would be impossible to kill him now…

Between the two of them, Frank and Fenton gently maneuvered Joe back into the van and warmly ensconced him in their coats and his mother’s attention.

It was only when Frank prepared to take the vehicle out of park that he thought to ask. “Hey, Joe?”

“Hmmm…” his brother was almost asleep again.

“What did you mean you wanted white snow? All snow’s white.”

Sluggishly the blond head shook, “Not snow by van…” he murmured and then chuckled softly. “Don’t eat yellow snow, Frank…”

“Don’t eat—” Frank started and then paused; stricken he slowly turned in his seat. “You have got to be kidding me…”

But Joe didn’t look like he was kidding. Joe looked like he’d passed out again.

“Oh crap.” Shifting back around, Frank glanced to the side at his father; his brother had been sitting in yellow snow? “If you’re looking for a last minute Christmas gift for me or Joe, can I suggest a complete detail for the van?” He remembered the sound of naked butt cheeks on vinyl and amended, “Or at the very least, a seat shampoo?”

He was sure that next year he’d look back on all this and laugh, but right here and right now – not so much; at least not until he got back home and found a semi-nude Hank and two very old ladies waiting for them on the front steps of the Hardy home with a fresh batch of gingerbread cookies.

His father turned to him as they got out of the vehicle. “Does this have anything to do with the dent in the side of your van?”

Frank had to grin; the looks on his parents’ faces were priceless. “Yup,” he admitted slinging an arm around his brother’s shoulder to steady him, “that and a whole lot more…”

…

“We are never leaving them at home alone again,” Laura Hardy said much later that night as she and Fenton got ready for bed.

Downstairs in the living room the lights on the large fir tree blinked vigil over the array of presents tucked neatly under its bottom boughs as two exhausted young men slept, nestled just as snugly, in their own rooms.

Fenton chuckled softly as he pulled back the blankets on his bed and slid under them, shivering slightly until they warmed up. “I don’t know, honey, they’re pretty old for a babysitter.”

Laura turned to her husband, brushing out her long blond hair as she did so, “They almost killed each other!”

“True,” he conceded, “but they’re siblings, I think that’s what they’re supposed to do.”

“Frank used a tire iron!” the pretty blond couldn’t believe her husband.

“Yes, and Joe used a deadly left hook,” he reminded her, “but it was an accident and a concussion, and in the end they did get to the airport in time to pick up us. So I think, all things considered—”

“All things considered?” Laura interrupted, putting the brush down on the vanity and slipping into the bed next to her husband. “These are my babies!”

“Your babies shave, have girlfriends and keep dirty magazines under their mattresses…” Fenton teased, as he waited for her to get comfortable against his chest before wrapping his arm around her. “I think they’ve gone past the Gerber™ stage.”

The woman sighed as she pressed her warm cheek against him and snuggled impossibly closer. “I suppose you’re right, but – ” she sighed softly, “but I just still worry.”

“And that’s what makes you a wonderful mom,” the investigator complimented her. “Besides,” he humored her, “who would we get?”

“Well,” Laura lifted her head and looked intently into her husband’s dark brown eyes. “I kinda liked that Hank guy—”

Fenton laughed, a deep belly laugh as he reached with his free hand to turn off the bedside lamp. “Hank? I’m not sure I’d want him responsible for keeping any boys out of trouble, especially not ours – I think he’s quite the handful himself.”

The blond smacked his chest lightly, “You’re bad!”

“Yeah, I know,” he leaned forward to kiss her forehead, “but that’s why you married me.”

The woman feigned shock. “And here I was thinking it was for the money!”

“Hank, huh?” Fenton mused, “Well…we certainly wouldn’t have to worry about Joe; did you notice how attentive he was to our youngest?”

“I thought it was just me,” Laura admitted and then shrugged. “Gladys and Myrtle?” She liked the two elderly women and hadn’t missed the pleased look on her sons’ faces when they found out that Hank was going to be spending his Christmas with the ladies. Apparently the gay bartender and the two spinsters had really hit it off.

“Hmmm…not sure we could afford the liposuction,” the detective teased, “I think Frank actually drooled on that gingerbread cookie on purpose to make sure no one else got it.”

That earned him another smack.

Laura rested her head back down on his chest and closed her eyes with a happy sigh as the regular rhythm of his heart started to lull her to sleep. “Fine then,” she murmured, “guess we’ll just have to continue taking our chances whenever we leave them alone.”

“Guess so,” he agreed; his voice tickled the hair on the top of her head as she spoke. “I do know one thing for sure…”

“Hmmm?”

“Those boys do keep us on our toes,” he paused and than added as the digital clock rolled the number past midnight, “Merry Christmas, Laura.”

“Merry Christmas, Fenton,” she managed and then drifted off to sleep.

Merry Christmas to everyone at the HDA!

The End