Day 12, Sophie's Secret, PG
Please enjoy! (Thank you, sharpiefan , for swapping days with me.)
It was all Stephen could do to bear up under Jack’s weight, which had certainly increased in the last few days with all the turkey, beef and Christmas pudding he had consumed. Fortunately, he was only one or two sheets in the wind and still more or less aware of his feet and able to move them, although he’d stopped moving them altogether now that they’d reached the drawing room, and was merely swaying gently, both arms wrapped around Stephen’s shoulders. “She don’t look angry,” he whispered loudly to Stephen.
And indeed, Sophie, who, being a wife, might have felt entitled to frown at the sight of her husband coming home on Boxing Day two hours late and quite drunk, was definitely not angry. In fact, her eyes were twinkling above the hand that she had pressed to her mouth.
“She does not,” Stephen agreed. “She is too good for you.”
“You are too good for me, m’dear. Stephen has the right of it.”
Sophie burst into laughter and pointed up at the ceiling.
Jack tilted his head back and nearly fell. Stephen braced himself and hauled Jack back in against him. Jack laughed in his face, his breath warm and ale-scented. “We’re under the kissing bough.”
Stephen had to twist his neck to see above and beyond Jack, who was towering over him in much the same manner as the famous tower in Pisa. Yes, there was the bough of evergreen, with its ribbons and bows, and its dangling ball of mistletoe. “So we are, joy. We should move.”
“No, no,” Sophie cried. “You must follow the tradition!” She put her hand back over her mouth and laughed behind it.
“I already have him in my arms!” Jack crowed to her. “I shall have my kiss!”
“I think not,” Stephen protested.
“But it’s mistletoe! Come, Stephen, you know what that means.”
“Certainly, I do. It is Viscum album, a member of the Loranthaceae family, a parasite or hemi-parasitical growth common throughout Europe. The Ancient Druid sect regarded it as a sacred plant, and in certain Scandinavian countries….”
Jack’s warm mouth prevented Stephen from continuing his lecture.
Sophie giggled and grew quite red, as Stephen saw from a hasty glance before he closed his eyes and simply gave himself over to the enjoyment of the moment, which would surely be all too brief, and would definitely never be forgotten.
It was all Stephen could do to bear up under Jack’s weight, which had certainly increased in the last few days with all the turkey, beef and Christmas pudding he had consumed. Fortunately, he was only one or two sheets in the wind and still more or less aware of his feet and able to move them, although he’d stopped moving them altogether now that they’d reached the drawing room, and was merely swaying gently, both arms wrapped around Stephen’s shoulders. “She don’t look angry,” he whispered loudly to Stephen.
And indeed, Sophie, who, being a wife, might have felt entitled to frown at the sight of her husband coming home on Boxing Day two hours late and quite drunk, was definitely not angry. In fact, her eyes were twinkling above the hand that she had pressed to her mouth.
“She does not,” Stephen agreed. “She is too good for you.”
“You are too good for me, m’dear. Stephen has the right of it.”
Sophie burst into laughter and pointed up at the ceiling.
Jack tilted his head back and nearly fell. Stephen braced himself and hauled Jack back in against him. Jack laughed in his face, his breath warm and ale-scented. “We’re under the kissing bough.”
Stephen had to twist his neck to see above and beyond Jack, who was towering over him in much the same manner as the famous tower in Pisa. Yes, there was the bough of evergreen, with its ribbons and bows, and its dangling ball of mistletoe. “So we are, joy. We should move.”
“No, no,” Sophie cried. “You must follow the tradition!” She put her hand back over her mouth and laughed behind it.
“I already have him in my arms!” Jack crowed to her. “I shall have my kiss!”
“I think not,” Stephen protested.
“But it’s mistletoe! Come, Stephen, you know what that means.”
“Certainly, I do. It is Viscum album, a member of the Loranthaceae family, a parasite or hemi-parasitical growth common throughout Europe. The Ancient Druid sect regarded it as a sacred plant, and in certain Scandinavian countries….”
Jack’s warm mouth prevented Stephen from continuing his lecture.
Sophie giggled and grew quite red, as Stephen saw from a hasty glance before he closed his eyes and simply gave himself over to the enjoyment of the moment, which would surely be all too brief, and would definitely never be forgotten.