A/N: Now we're two days off schedule, but I hope you can still enjoy the story :) Merry Christmas to all who celebrate. Thanks for reading!

On Christmas Eve, I go downstairs as early as usual, and start making a few final adjustments on the engine, double-checking that everything is right. Of course, I can't be positive whether it's right or not–we'll only know once we test it.

However, Jay doesn't come at his usual time. At first I don't think much of it, since it is a holiday, and maybe he's busy with some Christmas-related things. But an hour passes, then two. He didn't tell me he'd be late, did he? Or maybe he did, and I was just too caught up on certain other things he said to notice.

I don't have anything to do, and we're supposed to close at 2:00. I have the keys to the car, but I'm not sure if it's a good idea to casually drive a billionaire's car around the city in winter. What if something goes wrong? Besides, I'm not that good of a driver. I know how, of course, but these days, I only drive customers' cars in and out of the garage, and onto the lifts. Besides, what if this car doesn't work like a normal one? I don't want to risk it.

Two more hours pass. I clean the shop (Ronin would be pleased with me) and help a woman who comes in to get her tires changed over to winter ones. She thanks me and tells me happy holidays. I'm just glad she doesn't see and question the unique car in the garage. I'm starting to wonder if maybe I should drive it, just a short way. But then who would be at the shop to help anyone who needs it?

Luckily, after I eat lunch, Jay finally arrives. He's wearing a navy blue suit and a red scarf, which does make him look rather cute . . . wait, what?

Think about it later, I remind myself. I have to say something, obviously. I've been waiting all morning. And when I do, it'd better not be something stupid.

"Where were you?" I ask.

"I'm so sorry, my mom took a day off so she could help the staff decorate for tomorrow, and she made me help all morning. Then she made me eat this super-fancy lunch that she bought. Then I had to take the bus here, 'cause I have to be able to drive the car home."

"Well, that's okay. I'm glad you got to spend time with your mom."

"Yeah, it was nice, I guess. I'm sorry. I should be more appreciative. I'm such a bad son." He winces, and I can tell he's feeling sorry for poor, motherless me.

I don't want his pity, but I ignore it and focus on his words. "You're not a bad son." I reassure him. "And I'm sure tomorrow will be great. You helped a lot. Now we just need to take her out for a test run."

"You could've done it without me, you know."

"Are you kidding? That car costs a fortune. I am not taking the chance."

"Okay, then. I guess I'll drive." We grab the keys, and I open the garage door. Jay holds open the passenger side door for me. I'm glad I took off my coveralls for lunch, partially because they're definitely not a good looking outfit, and partially because I'm terrified to get this car dirty. Jay cautiously starts up the car, seeming equally scared.

The car starts, and we both stop holding our breaths. We drive out onto the street, and I close the garage door behind me. So far, so good. We go down the street slowly at first, and start to pick up speed. After ten or fifteen minutes, we get back to the shop and park outside.

I cautiously check under the hood. Everything seems fine.

"How is it?" Jay asks.

"It seems okay. We didn't test it on the highway, but it should be fine. I don't know about long distances, but somehow I get the idea that this car doesn't get taken on road trips."

He shakes his head. "Thank you, Nya!"

We shake hands. His hand is warm, and he squeezes mine. "Seriously, thank you."

"Of course. But please, be more careful with your little experiments from now on, okay?"

"Don't worry, I will. Now, how much do I owe you?"

I've been thinking about this, tallying prices for the parts, the hours. But when I suggest a number, Jay argues that it's not nearly enough. I remind him that he's helped a lot, and also that I wasn't supposed to do anything big. We go back and forth for a while, but eventually settle on a price, and he pays me.

"Thank you," I tell him. "I would've done it for the experience and the cost of the supplies."

"Not on my watch." He smiles. "I'd better get home before my mother misses me. Thanks again, and Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." I smile too, but really, there's a lot more things I want to say. But I can't. He's a celebrity, and I'm just a mechanic. So I give the car one final look over, and let him drive away with it.