Fic: The Christmas Spirit
Title: The Christmas Spirit
Author: wastingyourgum
Characters/Pairings: Much, Little John, Will, Djaq, Alice/Luke Cooper, Little Little John, Robin
Mentions: Allan, Luke Scarlett, Dan Scarlett
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, Angst, Friendship
Warnings: None. No really - there's no intended slash, no matter what you might think.
Words: 2682
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own anything you find familiar.
Notes: Takes place mid-Season 2. Originally written for hoodland.
The Christmas Spirit
by wastingyourgum
"I love Christmas!" Much said happily as he wound a long sprig of holly around the beam above the kitchen range.
John just grunted and went back to trying to patch the latest hole in what he now laughingly called his 'boots'. The laces around them had been holding them together more than up for months now and the wet winter weather was threatening to make them disintegrate completely.
Will came over and quickly chiselled a small notch in the beam to secure the end of the holly so it didn't whip loose. "Yeah, me too. I hope you've got something special planned for dinner tomorrow, Much!""
"Of course I have!" Much huffed, offended by the mere suggestion he wouldn't have. "And," he brightened, suddenly remembering, "I have one more cask of the October Ale that I've been saving - so it should be a very Merry Christmas."
Will smiled. "And a very quiet St Stephen's Day if we're splitting it between just four of us!"
"Four?" Much puzzled.
"Djaq doesn't drink - remember? And you, me and Robin are all too skinny to have much so John'll get two thirds of it to himself! Bet that'll cheer you up - eh, John?"
"What" John looked up from his sewing. "Oh, yes, ale. At least I don't need to worry about Allan throwing up in my bunk this year."
Will's smile faded somewhat at the mention of their ex-colleague. "No, you don't."
"John? Can you put this bit up on the high beam up there?" Much held out another sprig of holly, trying to dispel the sudden frostiness that had entered the conversation.
"I think there's enough holly already, Much."
"One bit more won't hurt, will it? And we need to tie the mistletoe up there as well."
"Mistletoe?" John said coldly.
"Umm, yes."
"What on earth for? Will and Djaq don't need any excuse and I've no wish to see you and Robin kissing!"
"But it's traditional..." Much said meekly.
"So is the Sheriff's Christmas hanging and we put a stop to that, didn't we? People hang mistletoe over the doors of their houses, Much. They put holly over their hearth. We don't have a home or a hearth so stop trying to pretend we do!"
Much's face fell and he clutched the holly to his chest, scratching a fine line across it. He stomped off to the kitchen and started noisily banging pots together.
"That was uncalled for, John," Will said sternly.
"Well... I'm fed up with him acting like we're going to have a jolly family Christmas. He hasn't even got any family. He and Robin have each other and that's it. Your brother's miles away in Scarborough so you and Djaq have only got each other and my boy is God knows where and has probably even forgotten his name's Little and not Cooper!"
John looked away, suddenly embarrassed that he'd revealed so much.
"John..." Will started towards him.
"Just...leave me be, Will." John pulled his boots back on and grabbed his coat. "And tell Much I'm sorry." He wrapped a long scarf round his neck as he left the camp, passing a bemused looking Djaq.
"What was all that about?" she asked Will.
"That... was about this being a time to be with your family," Will said.
"Ah." She stood in front of him and slipped her hands round his waist, then leant her head against his chest. "We could have gone to Scarborough to see Luke," Djaq said quietly. "We still could. He will be missing your father too."
"No, I think seeing me would just make it worse. Maybe later in the new year." He gently kissed the top of her head. "Shall we see if Much needs a hand?"
>>>--------------------------------------->
John walked a short distance from the camp to a high promontory where he could have a good view of anyone approaching. He brushed the light dusting of snow off a fallen log and sat down to inspect how the repair to his boot was holding up. It would be fine for a few days more he reckoned.
I shouldn't have been so harsh to Much. He means well. Maybe not having family of his own just makes it easier for him to think of us as his family...
John rested his staff across his knees and tightly hugged himself, tucking his hands under his armpits. He watched as the setting sun turned the snow pink. At this time of year they only had about 4 hours of light either side of noon.
A sudden beam caught his eye. The sun was shining across Will's memorial to his father. The image of Dan Scarlett's face was slightly distorted - the sun had moved round the heavens since it was carved - but if you knew what you were looking at you could still pick him out.
John smiled but then he closed his eyes and sighed heavily with a frown. It would be Will's first Christmas without his father. He'd not spent last Christmas with him either but he'd known he was safe in Scarborough at least.
And I completely forgot... Stupid, stubborn, insensitive old bugger...
John found himself wondering if his own son would even remember what he looked like. It had been over a year after all and they'd barely spent a few hours together in the daylight.
Tall, scruffy, smelly, big beard, bad temper - that's what he'll remember if anything.
The sun had set now and darkness was coming in quickly. John realised he should make his way back to the camp and prepare to eat dinner... and most of his words.
As he was about to get up a woman suddenly appeared in front of him. She wore a long flowing white robe, far too thin for the weather. Her hair was white too but her face was young. No, not young, but not old either and very pale. She walked towards him, smiling, and John saw with a sudden shiver that her feet left no marks in the snow. He quickly grabbed his staff.
The cold must be getting to me, was his first thought.
"Hello, John." She had a soft, delicate voice with an accent that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously. "How'd you know my name?"
"I am a Christmas spirit - sent to help those troubled or in need."
"A spirit!" John crossed himself.
"A benevolent one, John, I promise. I come bearing two gifts which I would like to share with you, if I may?"
John frowned but he sensed no ill-will or evil from the woman so he stood up and hesitantly took her hand. As he did so the snow suddenly flurried around them. He blinked his eyes and saw he was no longer where he had been moments before.
They were standing in front of a house in a small village. John looked around trying to place the location but the spirit took his hand with an icy grip and pulled him forward right through the wall of the house. John gasped and clutched at his chest. He still felt solid enough - this must be some sort of strange dream.
It was a small house; not overly furnished but comfortable. A man and a woman sat side by side on a bench in front of the fire wrapped up together in a large blanket, talking softly to each other. Steam gently rose from their cups as they took small sips of something warming. A child crouched on the floor in front of them happily playing with his toys. It was a perfect picture of a happy family Christmas.
John and the spirit moved to stand in the corner of the room. He caught his breath as he finally saw the family's faces; Alice, Luke and his son, Little John.
John turned to the spirit, a mixture of pain and anger in his eyes.
"I don't need to see this! Why did you bring me here? What did I ever do to deserve being shown this?"
The spirit took John's hand again but this time it was warm and comforting. "This is your first gift, John. Listen..."
"What do you suppose Father is doing for Christmas?" Little John suddenly asked.
Alice and Luke glanced at each other then Alice shrugged. "I don't know, John. I suppose he and the others in Robin's gang have some sort of celebration at their camp."
"It must be very cold," Little John said.
Alice looked straight up across the fire and John gasped, thinking for a moment that she'd seen him, but she was looking out the window at the snow. "Yes, it must..."
She looked... concerned? For him?
Luke put his arm round her shoulder and gently squeezed it. "He'll be fine. They all will. He's survived worse winters than this one. Remember '87?"
She nodded. "Oh yes, that was an awful winter."
John nodded in remembrance as well. He'd lost three of his gang to the cold that year. It had been brutal.
"Can't we go see him and make sure he's alright?" Little John whined.
John smiled. God bless the boy...
"John, you know why we can't do that - it wouldn't be safe," Luke said.
"I don't care," Little John pouted.
"Maybe not, but your father does," Alice said softly. "He gave up a lot to keep us safe. Do you really want to risk all that?"
"No," Little John said, sulkily.
"No... Come here." Alice held out her arms and John got up awkwardly and limped over to sit in her lap. She stroked his hair as she held him. "Your father loves you very much, John, just as much as Luke and I. I'm sure he's thinking of you right now and wishing he could see you too... and maybe one day when things get better we'll be able to go back to Locksley and you can see him again." Little John sighed and snuggled closer into her. "But for now we just have to trust that he will be safe. He's doing good work - God will look after him - and Robin Hood and all his other friends."
Little John sniffed and dragged his nose across his sleeve. John laughed as he realised he was doing the exact same thing. He put his arm down and wiped the tears from his eyes with his fingers.
"Now - time for bed. Off you go." Little John picked up his toys and John noticed for the first time what they were. A hooded figure with a bow, another with a sword and shield, a thinner figure with an axe and, showing the most signs of wear, a large figure in a long coat with a staff. Little John put the first three figures in a box in the corner, the last he carried with him over to the bed.
Little John put the figure down on a small shelf as he crawled under the blankets. John walked over towards him as he wriggled on top of the mattress until he was comfortable. Once he was settled he stretched out and picked up the figure, then kissed its head before setting it back down again. "Good night, Father. Merry Christmas!" He closed his eyes and was asleep in moments.
John leaned over and smoothed the hair away from his forehead before kissing it. "Good night, my son. Sleep well."
"I will, Father."
John drew in a sharp breath at the response. He reached out again to stroke his son's hair but his hand went through him as if he were made of mist.
"No, please! Just a minute more!"
"I'm sorry, John. We have to go," the spirit said, sadly.
John closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was back near the camp. His hand was still outstretched. He slowly curled his fingers into a tight fist before dropping it back to his side.
"Your son loves you, is proud of you and longs to see you as much as you do him."
"He won't always," John said, bitterly.
"Yes he will, John. Each time he hears tales of Robin Hood's man Little John his heart will fill anew. He will not be satisfied until he sees you again."
"If that ever happens."
The spirit gently took his large hand in hers and uncurled his fingers. "It will, John. This is the other gift I give you. You will see him again and not just in your dreams. A time of great change is coming and it will be hard for you all but you will see your son again."
John looked into her ageless eyes and saw the certainty of her statement.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"Merry Christmas, John."
She vanished in another flurry of snow...
>>>---------------------------->
John walked slowly back to the camp. As he opened the door he saw Much balancing on top of a small barrel on his tip-toes, trying to tie the mistletoe to the camp roof. He turned a little too quickly as John entered. The barrel rocked under him and his arms flailed, desperately trying to regain his balance.
John dropped his staff and leapt forward. He caught Much just as he tumbled off, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the edge of the kitchen grill.
"Thanks, John!" Much said breathlessly. John set him down on the ground.
"What are you doing?"
"I thought I'd tie it up anyway. It's traditional - and just because we don't have a proper home doesn't mean--"
John clamped his hand firmly over Much's mouth. "Shut up, Much. Of course this is a proper home."
"But you said--"
"I know what I said and I'm sorry. I was just being grumpy. Here." He took the mistletoe and twine from Much's hands and stretched up, securing them to the highest point above the camp door.
"Go on then."
They both looked over to see Robin watching them from his bunk, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"What?" Much asked.
"You're both under the mistletoe now! Would be terribly bad luck if you ignored it," Robin grinned.
Much and John both looked up at the green leaves and white berries hanging just above their heads.
Much blushed scarlet. "Master - I don't think that would be entirely proper and I'm sure John has no intention of...mmph!"
He was cut off by two large hands wrapping around his arms, lifting him up off the ground and a face full of beard meeting his own.
"MWAH!" John gave Much an exaggerated kiss on the lips and then set him back down and winked at him. Robin laughed loudly at Much's stunned expression.
"Ewww!" Much staggered back into the kitchen and wiped his mouth with his hands. "John!"
"What? Don't blame me! You're the one who wanted it there!" John laughed.
"Not for that!" Much wailed.
"There's no pleasing some people," John grinned. Much just sulked at him.
Robin came over and stood beside John, still laughing. "Oh come on, Much. You'll hurt John's feelings!"
John clapped one large arm round Robin's shoulders. "That's alright, Robin. I'm sure you'll cheer me up." He pointed upwards and Robin's face paled.
"Oh no. No, no, no." Robin hastily backed away, shaking a warning finger at John who slowly advanced towards him, grinning.
"Fair's fair, Master," Much gloated. "You don't want to hurt John's feelings.."
"Come on, just a little one, right there..." John pointed at his lips and Robin made a bolt for it.
Will and Djaq entered the camp to find John chasing Robin around it as Much stood in the kitchen shaking with laughter. Robin was fast but John had a long reach and successfully grabbed him round the waist before turning him and planting a large, wet kiss on his lips. Robin coughed and spluttered as John roared with laughter and let him go.
"What in the world has got into John?" Djaq asked Much.
"I have no idea," Much replied. "I think he finally found the Christmas spirit."
"Oh." Will nodded wisely. "I thought you were saving the ale for tomorrow...?"
Author: wastingyourgum
Characters/Pairings: Much, Little John, Will, Djaq, Alice/Luke Cooper, Little Little John, Robin
Mentions: Allan, Luke Scarlett, Dan Scarlett
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, Angst, Friendship
Warnings: None. No really - there's no intended slash, no matter what you might think.
Words: 2682
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own anything you find familiar.
Notes: Takes place mid-Season 2. Originally written for hoodland.
The Christmas Spirit
by wastingyourgum
"I love Christmas!" Much said happily as he wound a long sprig of holly around the beam above the kitchen range.
John just grunted and went back to trying to patch the latest hole in what he now laughingly called his 'boots'. The laces around them had been holding them together more than up for months now and the wet winter weather was threatening to make them disintegrate completely.
Will came over and quickly chiselled a small notch in the beam to secure the end of the holly so it didn't whip loose. "Yeah, me too. I hope you've got something special planned for dinner tomorrow, Much!""
"Of course I have!" Much huffed, offended by the mere suggestion he wouldn't have. "And," he brightened, suddenly remembering, "I have one more cask of the October Ale that I've been saving - so it should be a very Merry Christmas."
Will smiled. "And a very quiet St Stephen's Day if we're splitting it between just four of us!"
"Four?" Much puzzled.
"Djaq doesn't drink - remember? And you, me and Robin are all too skinny to have much so John'll get two thirds of it to himself! Bet that'll cheer you up - eh, John?"
"What" John looked up from his sewing. "Oh, yes, ale. At least I don't need to worry about Allan throwing up in my bunk this year."
Will's smile faded somewhat at the mention of their ex-colleague. "No, you don't."
"John? Can you put this bit up on the high beam up there?" Much held out another sprig of holly, trying to dispel the sudden frostiness that had entered the conversation.
"I think there's enough holly already, Much."
"One bit more won't hurt, will it? And we need to tie the mistletoe up there as well."
"Mistletoe?" John said coldly.
"Umm, yes."
"What on earth for? Will and Djaq don't need any excuse and I've no wish to see you and Robin kissing!"
"But it's traditional..." Much said meekly.
"So is the Sheriff's Christmas hanging and we put a stop to that, didn't we? People hang mistletoe over the doors of their houses, Much. They put holly over their hearth. We don't have a home or a hearth so stop trying to pretend we do!"
Much's face fell and he clutched the holly to his chest, scratching a fine line across it. He stomped off to the kitchen and started noisily banging pots together.
"That was uncalled for, John," Will said sternly.
"Well... I'm fed up with him acting like we're going to have a jolly family Christmas. He hasn't even got any family. He and Robin have each other and that's it. Your brother's miles away in Scarborough so you and Djaq have only got each other and my boy is God knows where and has probably even forgotten his name's Little and not Cooper!"
John looked away, suddenly embarrassed that he'd revealed so much.
"John..." Will started towards him.
"Just...leave me be, Will." John pulled his boots back on and grabbed his coat. "And tell Much I'm sorry." He wrapped a long scarf round his neck as he left the camp, passing a bemused looking Djaq.
"What was all that about?" she asked Will.
"That... was about this being a time to be with your family," Will said.
"Ah." She stood in front of him and slipped her hands round his waist, then leant her head against his chest. "We could have gone to Scarborough to see Luke," Djaq said quietly. "We still could. He will be missing your father too."
"No, I think seeing me would just make it worse. Maybe later in the new year." He gently kissed the top of her head. "Shall we see if Much needs a hand?"
>>>--------------------------------------->
John walked a short distance from the camp to a high promontory where he could have a good view of anyone approaching. He brushed the light dusting of snow off a fallen log and sat down to inspect how the repair to his boot was holding up. It would be fine for a few days more he reckoned.
I shouldn't have been so harsh to Much. He means well. Maybe not having family of his own just makes it easier for him to think of us as his family...
John rested his staff across his knees and tightly hugged himself, tucking his hands under his armpits. He watched as the setting sun turned the snow pink. At this time of year they only had about 4 hours of light either side of noon.
A sudden beam caught his eye. The sun was shining across Will's memorial to his father. The image of Dan Scarlett's face was slightly distorted - the sun had moved round the heavens since it was carved - but if you knew what you were looking at you could still pick him out.
John smiled but then he closed his eyes and sighed heavily with a frown. It would be Will's first Christmas without his father. He'd not spent last Christmas with him either but he'd known he was safe in Scarborough at least.
And I completely forgot... Stupid, stubborn, insensitive old bugger...
John found himself wondering if his own son would even remember what he looked like. It had been over a year after all and they'd barely spent a few hours together in the daylight.
Tall, scruffy, smelly, big beard, bad temper - that's what he'll remember if anything.
The sun had set now and darkness was coming in quickly. John realised he should make his way back to the camp and prepare to eat dinner... and most of his words.
As he was about to get up a woman suddenly appeared in front of him. She wore a long flowing white robe, far too thin for the weather. Her hair was white too but her face was young. No, not young, but not old either and very pale. She walked towards him, smiling, and John saw with a sudden shiver that her feet left no marks in the snow. He quickly grabbed his staff.
The cold must be getting to me, was his first thought.
"Hello, John." She had a soft, delicate voice with an accent that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously. "How'd you know my name?"
"I am a Christmas spirit - sent to help those troubled or in need."
"A spirit!" John crossed himself.
"A benevolent one, John, I promise. I come bearing two gifts which I would like to share with you, if I may?"
John frowned but he sensed no ill-will or evil from the woman so he stood up and hesitantly took her hand. As he did so the snow suddenly flurried around them. He blinked his eyes and saw he was no longer where he had been moments before.
They were standing in front of a house in a small village. John looked around trying to place the location but the spirit took his hand with an icy grip and pulled him forward right through the wall of the house. John gasped and clutched at his chest. He still felt solid enough - this must be some sort of strange dream.
It was a small house; not overly furnished but comfortable. A man and a woman sat side by side on a bench in front of the fire wrapped up together in a large blanket, talking softly to each other. Steam gently rose from their cups as they took small sips of something warming. A child crouched on the floor in front of them happily playing with his toys. It was a perfect picture of a happy family Christmas.
John and the spirit moved to stand in the corner of the room. He caught his breath as he finally saw the family's faces; Alice, Luke and his son, Little John.
John turned to the spirit, a mixture of pain and anger in his eyes.
"I don't need to see this! Why did you bring me here? What did I ever do to deserve being shown this?"
The spirit took John's hand again but this time it was warm and comforting. "This is your first gift, John. Listen..."
"What do you suppose Father is doing for Christmas?" Little John suddenly asked.
Alice and Luke glanced at each other then Alice shrugged. "I don't know, John. I suppose he and the others in Robin's gang have some sort of celebration at their camp."
"It must be very cold," Little John said.
Alice looked straight up across the fire and John gasped, thinking for a moment that she'd seen him, but she was looking out the window at the snow. "Yes, it must..."
She looked... concerned? For him?
Luke put his arm round her shoulder and gently squeezed it. "He'll be fine. They all will. He's survived worse winters than this one. Remember '87?"
She nodded. "Oh yes, that was an awful winter."
John nodded in remembrance as well. He'd lost three of his gang to the cold that year. It had been brutal.
"Can't we go see him and make sure he's alright?" Little John whined.
John smiled. God bless the boy...
"John, you know why we can't do that - it wouldn't be safe," Luke said.
"I don't care," Little John pouted.
"Maybe not, but your father does," Alice said softly. "He gave up a lot to keep us safe. Do you really want to risk all that?"
"No," Little John said, sulkily.
"No... Come here." Alice held out her arms and John got up awkwardly and limped over to sit in her lap. She stroked his hair as she held him. "Your father loves you very much, John, just as much as Luke and I. I'm sure he's thinking of you right now and wishing he could see you too... and maybe one day when things get better we'll be able to go back to Locksley and you can see him again." Little John sighed and snuggled closer into her. "But for now we just have to trust that he will be safe. He's doing good work - God will look after him - and Robin Hood and all his other friends."
Little John sniffed and dragged his nose across his sleeve. John laughed as he realised he was doing the exact same thing. He put his arm down and wiped the tears from his eyes with his fingers.
"Now - time for bed. Off you go." Little John picked up his toys and John noticed for the first time what they were. A hooded figure with a bow, another with a sword and shield, a thinner figure with an axe and, showing the most signs of wear, a large figure in a long coat with a staff. Little John put the first three figures in a box in the corner, the last he carried with him over to the bed.
Little John put the figure down on a small shelf as he crawled under the blankets. John walked over towards him as he wriggled on top of the mattress until he was comfortable. Once he was settled he stretched out and picked up the figure, then kissed its head before setting it back down again. "Good night, Father. Merry Christmas!" He closed his eyes and was asleep in moments.
John leaned over and smoothed the hair away from his forehead before kissing it. "Good night, my son. Sleep well."
"I will, Father."
John drew in a sharp breath at the response. He reached out again to stroke his son's hair but his hand went through him as if he were made of mist.
"No, please! Just a minute more!"
"I'm sorry, John. We have to go," the spirit said, sadly.
John closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was back near the camp. His hand was still outstretched. He slowly curled his fingers into a tight fist before dropping it back to his side.
"Your son loves you, is proud of you and longs to see you as much as you do him."
"He won't always," John said, bitterly.
"Yes he will, John. Each time he hears tales of Robin Hood's man Little John his heart will fill anew. He will not be satisfied until he sees you again."
"If that ever happens."
The spirit gently took his large hand in hers and uncurled his fingers. "It will, John. This is the other gift I give you. You will see him again and not just in your dreams. A time of great change is coming and it will be hard for you all but you will see your son again."
John looked into her ageless eyes and saw the certainty of her statement.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"Merry Christmas, John."
She vanished in another flurry of snow...
>>>---------------------------->
John walked slowly back to the camp. As he opened the door he saw Much balancing on top of a small barrel on his tip-toes, trying to tie the mistletoe to the camp roof. He turned a little too quickly as John entered. The barrel rocked under him and his arms flailed, desperately trying to regain his balance.
John dropped his staff and leapt forward. He caught Much just as he tumbled off, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the edge of the kitchen grill.
"Thanks, John!" Much said breathlessly. John set him down on the ground.
"What are you doing?"
"I thought I'd tie it up anyway. It's traditional - and just because we don't have a proper home doesn't mean--"
John clamped his hand firmly over Much's mouth. "Shut up, Much. Of course this is a proper home."
"But you said--"
"I know what I said and I'm sorry. I was just being grumpy. Here." He took the mistletoe and twine from Much's hands and stretched up, securing them to the highest point above the camp door.
"Go on then."
They both looked over to see Robin watching them from his bunk, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"What?" Much asked.
"You're both under the mistletoe now! Would be terribly bad luck if you ignored it," Robin grinned.
Much and John both looked up at the green leaves and white berries hanging just above their heads.
Much blushed scarlet. "Master - I don't think that would be entirely proper and I'm sure John has no intention of...mmph!"
He was cut off by two large hands wrapping around his arms, lifting him up off the ground and a face full of beard meeting his own.
"MWAH!" John gave Much an exaggerated kiss on the lips and then set him back down and winked at him. Robin laughed loudly at Much's stunned expression.
"Ewww!" Much staggered back into the kitchen and wiped his mouth with his hands. "John!"
"What? Don't blame me! You're the one who wanted it there!" John laughed.
"Not for that!" Much wailed.
"There's no pleasing some people," John grinned. Much just sulked at him.
Robin came over and stood beside John, still laughing. "Oh come on, Much. You'll hurt John's feelings!"
John clapped one large arm round Robin's shoulders. "That's alright, Robin. I'm sure you'll cheer me up." He pointed upwards and Robin's face paled.
"Oh no. No, no, no." Robin hastily backed away, shaking a warning finger at John who slowly advanced towards him, grinning.
"Fair's fair, Master," Much gloated. "You don't want to hurt John's feelings.."
"Come on, just a little one, right there..." John pointed at his lips and Robin made a bolt for it.
Will and Djaq entered the camp to find John chasing Robin around it as Much stood in the kitchen shaking with laughter. Robin was fast but John had a long reach and successfully grabbed him round the waist before turning him and planting a large, wet kiss on his lips. Robin coughed and spluttered as John roared with laughter and let him go.
"What in the world has got into John?" Djaq asked Much.
"I have no idea," Much replied. "I think he finally found the Christmas spirit."
"Oh." Will nodded wisely. "I thought you were saving the ale for tomorrow...?"