Auld Lang Syne
"Rupert, get back over here."
"Jenny, the longer we put this off, the more arduous the process will be."
She rolled her eyes and stretched her legs out across the couch, cupping her mug of tea as she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Seriously? Christmas just barely ended." She smirked. "Scrooge."
"No, not a Scrooge," he was quick to defend himself, tilting his head and holding up a finger in that purely British 'I-am-going-to-school-you' way. "I just personally have never seen the point in waiting until the middle of January, or even February before taking down a tree." He gave the juniper an up-and-down glance before turning back to Jenny with a shrug. "S'not as if we have any other use for it. Can't get sap from it to make syrup. And even if we could, it's not exactly the type of stuff I'd want on my waffles."
Twisting her body so her forearm laid on the arm of the couch, chin resting on it, she pouted at him. "But I picked out that tree. I don't wanna see it tossed out on the curb yet."
She continued to pout at him, batting her eyelashes for good measure while he stared at her narrow-eyed. Finally, he heaved a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes and head toward the ceiling exaggeratedly before making his way back to the couch. "Fine. Fine." He lifted her feet only long enough to plop down on the other end, glaring at her. "You fight dirty."
"I do," she agreed with a self-satisfied smile and tilt of the head. Taking another sip of her tea, she peeked at him through her lashes, grinning cheekily as she added, "But you already knew that about me."
"So I did," he sighed, rubbing her feet.
"Besides," she glanced over her shoulder again, where the tree still stood proud, glowing its different colors in the dim light of the living room. "Look how pretty it is. Reminds me of a real Christmas."
The cold front they'd gotten at the beginning of December had only lasted a couple days before everything melted away and the temperatures were back up in the seventies. Jenny never even got the chance to make a full-fledged snowman, though she did get the pleasure of throwing snow at Rupert and shoving some down his pants. It had been fun until he started whining about "soggy underpants," in his words.
Luckily, she'd been able to turn his mood around by insisting that they get out of their wet clothes, and well... the rest of the evening had been even more fun than the snow fight.
"A real Christmas, hmm?" He echoed her, his hand now rubbing her legs. "As opposed to these phony Christmases we have here in California?"
She rolled her eyes. "You of all people should know what I mean, England. A real Christmas! With snow and cold weather and stocking hats and mittens."
He hummed thoughtfully, and together they stared at the tree for a long moment, comfortable silence settling over them. After what seemed like hours, Jenny turned to him. "Do you ever miss it?"
"What?"
"London." She shrugged. "A real Christmas."
"Jenny, the longer we put this off, the more arduous the process will be."
She rolled her eyes and stretched her legs out across the couch, cupping her mug of tea as she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Seriously? Christmas just barely ended." She smirked. "Scrooge."
"No, not a Scrooge," he was quick to defend himself, tilting his head and holding up a finger in that purely British 'I-am-going-to-school-you' way. "I just personally have never seen the point in waiting until the middle of January, or even February before taking down a tree." He gave the juniper an up-and-down glance before turning back to Jenny with a shrug. "S'not as if we have any other use for it. Can't get sap from it to make syrup. And even if we could, it's not exactly the type of stuff I'd want on my waffles."
Twisting her body so her forearm laid on the arm of the couch, chin resting on it, she pouted at him. "But I picked out that tree. I don't wanna see it tossed out on the curb yet."
She continued to pout at him, batting her eyelashes for good measure while he stared at her narrow-eyed. Finally, he heaved a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes and head toward the ceiling exaggeratedly before making his way back to the couch. "Fine. Fine." He lifted her feet only long enough to plop down on the other end, glaring at her. "You fight dirty."
"I do," she agreed with a self-satisfied smile and tilt of the head. Taking another sip of her tea, she peeked at him through her lashes, grinning cheekily as she added, "But you already knew that about me."
"So I did," he sighed, rubbing her feet.
"Besides," she glanced over her shoulder again, where the tree still stood proud, glowing its different colors in the dim light of the living room. "Look how pretty it is. Reminds me of a real Christmas."
The cold front they'd gotten at the beginning of December had only lasted a couple days before everything melted away and the temperatures were back up in the seventies. Jenny never even got the chance to make a full-fledged snowman, though she did get the pleasure of throwing snow at Rupert and shoving some down his pants. It had been fun until he started whining about "soggy underpants," in his words.
Luckily, she'd been able to turn his mood around by insisting that they get out of their wet clothes, and well... the rest of the evening had been even more fun than the snow fight.
"A real Christmas, hmm?" He echoed her, his hand now rubbing her legs. "As opposed to these phony Christmases we have here in California?"
She rolled her eyes. "You of all people should know what I mean, England. A real Christmas! With snow and cold weather and stocking hats and mittens."
He hummed thoughtfully, and together they stared at the tree for a long moment, comfortable silence settling over them. After what seemed like hours, Jenny turned to him. "Do you ever miss it?"
"What?"
"London." She shrugged. "A real Christmas."