Chapter Twelve: Sleuths, Soot, and a Slightly Burnt Christmas
There were many things Ryan Marquez expected to do during his first Christmas season in Los Angeles.
Decorate a Christmas tree? Sure.Drink eggnog while pretending to enjoy caroling? Maybe.Help investigate an arson case involving a couch cushion?
That one? Not on the list.
"Ryan," Claire said, dragging him into the Dunphy living room, "you're the smartest kid I know. Look at this." She pointed to a small, charred hole in the center of the family's beige sectional.
Ryan leaned in. "It looks like a minor heat signature. Possibly a burn from a candle… or an overclocked PlayStation."
Phil popped up beside them. "We don't own a PlayStation!"
Ryan glanced at Luke.
Luke looked at the ceiling.
Claire crossed her arms. "We are not putting up the rest of the decorations until someone confesses."
"Mom, it's Christmas Eve," Alex sighed, coming down the stairs in her socks and hoodie. "Can we maybe not do the emotional hostage thing this year?"
Claire turned. "Not until I get the truth."
Phil clapped. "Let's CSI this Christmas!"
Ryan groaned. "I swear this family turns every holiday into a spin-off show."
One hour later, Ryan sat at the Dunphys' dining table, a notepad open, a diagram of the couch and possible angles drawn in pencil, while the rest of the house became a full-blown holiday investigation zone.
He was not taking it seriously.
But also… maybe a little.
"Here's what we know," he said, adjusting his glasses.
"The burn is recent. It occurred sometime between last night and this morning. The damage is localized, about three centimeters wide, with singe marks but no deep penetration—"
"He said penetration!" Luke shouted from the kitchen.
"Moving on," Ryan said loudly.
Alex leaned on the table beside him, sipping cocoa. "Okay, so who had access to the couch between midnight and 7 a.m.?"
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Did you really just say that like we're in Law & Order: Reindeer Unit?"
"Humor me."
They surveyed the suspects:
Luke, who claimed he was asleep but had glitter in his hair and the kind of guilty smile only a kid hiding something could make.
Haley, who insisted she'd been "Snapchatting in bed" but had a lighter in her purse.
Phil, who said he might've sat there while reading a "really exciting Yelp review about meat thermometers."
And Claire, who—let's be honest—was wound so tight about the holidays, she probably scorched the couch with sheer stress energy.
Ryan squinted. "Honestly? I'm leaning Luke."
"I'm leaning Phil," Alex replied. "He once shorted out the toaster because he tried to 'test if bread could be reheated twice without emotional damage.'"
Ryan blinked. "That's… concerning."
"Welcome to my every day."
As the house descended into a tinsel-covered interrogation zone, Ryan and Alex conducted interviews, took snack breaks (mostly Alex), and reenacted the scene using sock puppets and a cut-up marshmallow as the burn site.
Cam and Mitchell arrived halfway through with a tray of gingerbread men and strong opinions.
"I think it was Claire," Cam whispered dramatically. "She's suppressing something. You can see it in her tree spacing."
Mitchell whispered back, "You're reading into pine needle placement again, aren't you?"
Jay and Gloria called in from their vacation in Mexico via FaceTime. Gloria screamed when she saw the burn. Jay just muttered, "Don't let Luke near candles. Or batteries. Or unsupervised thought."
Meanwhile, Ryan finally made his way to the backyard with Alex to "clear their heads."
It was quiet under the string lights. Cold for LA, but crisp. Peaceful.
Alex leaned against the porch railing. "So, this is my Christmas. Dunphy drama, forensic couch mysteries, and my mom threatening to throw out the tree unless we confess to a crime we didn't commit."
Ryan handed her a candy cane. "Could be worse."
"How?"
"You could be alone. In a world you don't understand. Trying to rebuild your identity while navigating the hormonal chaos of high school and hiding the fact that you're technically smarter than every adult you know."
She raised an eyebrow. "Was that supposed to be about you or me?"
He smirked. "Yes."
She snorted. "Okay, Tony Stark."
He looked at her, a little more seriously. "I meant it, though. You guys may be… absolute lunatics, but being part of this?" He gestured toward the window where Phil was dancing to Christmas music in a Santa hat. "It's kind of… wonderful."
Alex watched her family inside—bickering, dramatic, ridiculous—and then looked at Ryan.
"Yeah," she said. "It kind of is."
He stepped beside her.
"So what do you want for Christmas?" he asked softly.
She blinked, caught off guard. "Um… I don't know."
"World domination? Lab equipment? Signed edition of Brief History of Time?"
She hesitated.
Then: "I want one day where I'm not overthinking everything."
Ryan tilted his head.
"Where I'm not measuring people's reactions or bracing for disappointment or holding my breath waiting for something to go wrong."
Her voice dropped.
"I want one day where someone sees me and doesn't just assume I'm the smart girl or the sarcastic one or the one who rolls her eyes at everything."
He nodded, quietly.
"Okay," he said. "Then my gift to you… is now."
She turned to him. "Now?"
He smiled. "You, here, now. No labels. No overthinking. Just… Alex. And me. Standing outside a crime scene involving sofa combustion."
She let out a laugh, small but real.
"I like this gift."
Then, very gently, she leaned in and kissed him again.
Not quick. Not a stolen moment. Just… there. Right. Honest.
A single strand of light flickered above them.
Then Luke opened the door and shouted, "GUYS! I REMEMBERED—I ACCIDENTALLY SAT ON THE COUCH WITH A LIT CANDLE I MADE AT SCHOOL!"
Claire screamed. "LUUUUUUKE!"
Phil yelled, "MY BUTT WAS IN DANGER!"
Ryan and Alex pulled away, laughing.
"I guess the case is closed," Ryan said.
"And so is the chance of a peaceful dinner."
"Still worth it."
They walked back inside together, hand in hand, stepping into the warmth, the noise, the Dunphy chaos that—somehow—felt like home.
For Ryan, this Christmas wasn't just about lights and presents and forensic drama.
It was about belonging.
And that, he realized, was the greatest gift of all.