#wiypt25daysofchristmas

Miserable. That was the only word he could think of at the moment. Ransom Drysdale was miserable.

He'd been attempting to make dinner, a fancy one at that, in three attempts now and so far, he burnt it, undercooked it and somehow turned a sauce into a gelatinous glob.

"This is bullshit," he said flatly. A coo sounded as he looked behind him at his eleven month old son, Teddy, happily gnawing away on a snack cracker and fruit while he suffered over the filthy counters and stove.

“Thanks for your support,” Ransom’s hands felll to his hips. “Suppose you think this is funny.”

A squeal came in reply.

“I would tell you to eat shit,” Ransom arched a brow before he scoffed and looked at the devastation on the kitchen side, “looks like your mommy’s gonna be doing that.”

Teddy signed for more snacks and Ransom groaned.

"Words, kid, they're in there, just... speak."

“Abbabbbaaddd,” came the nonsense reply.

With a tremendous eye roll that would put Joni to shame, Ransom scoffed at his son and went back to whatever bleak situation dinner had become but not before tossing his son another biscuit.

He cussed and he groaned, his fourth and now his final attempt at a meal falling from the pot and pan and straight into the garbage.

Checking his watch, he flicked up his brows. "Perfect. Just enough time for Bistro de Paris to deliver."

He reached for his phone and just as he was about to call through his order, it rang, his mothers caller ID flashing on the screen. For a moment he hesitated, ready to decline the call, but his Nanna Wanetta hadn’t been well recently so…

“Linda?”

“Lovely to speak to you, too.” His mom's sarcastic response came.

"To what do I owe the lack of pleasure ?"

“I wanted to know if me and your father will be seeing you, Y/N and Theodore on Christmas Day.”

“No,” he replied simply, cutting the call.

That easily handled, he dialed the bistro and put in the order for the exact meal he was attempting to make. Once he’d read his card details out he tossed the phone back into the side abs looked around at the mess in the kitchen.

“Fahk,” he grumbled, his eyes flicking back to Teddy, “you know, before I met your mom my time was filled with alcohol, hookers and drugs. Now it’s housework, puke and dirty diapers.”

Teddy blinked, blue eyes so like his own gazed back up at Ransom and then his baby boy smiled at him. A smile so big it caused his little nose to scrunch up, flashing the four teeth he had.

"You're lucky you're cute," Ransom snorted and collected Teddy from his high chair. "Let's get you down for a nap, huh?"

Then in a quick move, he puckered his lips and pressed them into his son's forehead.

Teddy down in the pack and play, Ransom quickly got rid of any evidence of his kitchen disaster. He’d become quite adapt at most household chores over the last few years since you had fallen pregnant; okay, some had resulted in trips to the ER, others almost burning the house down or blowing it up. But he tried. Which was more than anyone had ever expected of him.

And in that he was proud. But dinner, he'd yet to master anything beyond boiling water and the simplest of meals. In a way, it frustrated him, annoyed him to a desperate end each time and for once, just once in his life he wanted it to get it right the first time.

It was your favorite meal, chicken cordon bleu with dauphinois potatoes and a beurre blanc, and it mattered to him that he got it right. For you.

He tossed the pans into the dishwasher and set it going, before grabbing a beer and heading to the lounge. He found himself googling cookery classes before he snorted and gave his head a wobble.

“Fahk this, I’d rather hire a chef.”

That was it, the answer to his Christmas gift for the two of you. A chef, to handle dinners and the shopping. Weekends you could manage together, breakfast, he was getting good at and lunch was simple enough to throw together. Dinner, yep, Merry Christmas, you were getting a chef.

Just as Teddy began to stir, the gate buzzer went signalling the food was here. Setting it to one side to serve just before you got home, he got his son's dinner ready.

"Butter noodles and peas for you tonight, spawn," he set a few tablespoons on the highchair and began plating your meal.

In the knick of time, you pulled in and he smirked to himself as he set the last container in the trash.

You walked onto the kitchen, kicking off your heels and beemed as Teddy gave an excited shriek.

"Hi handsome, how's my baby?" You cooed back at him, plucking him from his chair.

“I’m fine.” Ransom replied.

“I was talking to Ted.”

“I remember a time before the crotch goblin when I was the first person you’d kiss when you got home,”

"But you're always my last." You kissed him.

“Good day?” He asked as you set Teddy back in his chair.

"Meh, this Christmas charity ball is going to kill me, but I'm better now. I had to work through lunch and I'm starved."

Ransom frowned, “that asshole Barber works you too hard. You’re a legal secretary not a fucking party planner.”

"There's a committee of us, Ransom," you shook your head, "and Andy is a senior partner, who happens to have his turn this year as the event head. They rotate each year. It's fine, I'm fine, just tired."

“He’s still a prick. And that son of his is a creep, reminds me of Walt’s brat.”

"Well, just... Let it go, okay?" You patted his cheek and sighed. "Dinner ready, handsome?" Now you looked to him with the moniker.

"Yup,” he nodded. “Go change and I’ll serve it up.”

"Okay!"

“You can wear my sweater, no need for anything else.”

"I might do just that."

With a smirk, you left the room and headed to change. You pulled on his soft cable knit, a pair of bed shorts and chunky socks before you made your way back down to the kitchen.

"That's what I'm looking for," Ransom smirked as he eyed you.

“Save it for later, Tiger, I’m starved.”

He handed you a glass of wine and you went to sit. He grabbed the two plates and followed right behind you.

As you sat, he placed a plate in front of you and you blinked. “You made this?”

"Yep, worked all day on it.”

“I’m impressed.”

"Thank you," he shrugged.

“I mean the house didn’t burn down…” you took a sip of wine, “wait, you still got all your fingers?”

"I'll show you what all ten fingers can do after he," he nods to Teddy, "goes to bed."

"Maybe you can show me, in the den by the fire and our Christmas tree."

“As long as your not gonna make me watch some Hallmark shit beforehand.”

"Fine, how about you read to me, you haven't done that in a while."

Ransom smiled genuinely, his cheeks sporting just a hint of a flush. For all his bluster and bravado, there were certain moments with you he loved. Reading to you had become a habit when you were pregnant, and one he’d happily adopted for Teddy too.

“Okay.”

"A Christmas Carol?"

He shrugged “you know Scrooge was on crack, right? It’s the only explanation.”

"Absolutely," you snorted.

“But I’ll read you the crack fic, Princess.”

You smile warmly in appreciation.

Breezing through the rest of dinner, you allow Ransom to clear the plates while you bathed Teddy for bed. His night time bottle of milk was had as he sat on his daddy’s knee, Ransom gently reading to him as he sat snuggled up in his little blue pajamas.

Becoming a father had truly brought out the best in your husband, who so many before you had written off as a spoilt, trust fund prick. Which wasn’t entirely inaccurate, but you saw a side to him no others bothered to even try and notice.

And you knew, despite what anyone may say, he’d die for the little bundle that was now starting to fall asleep on his lap. He didn't even make it to the final page of the nursery rhyme book before Teddy was fast asleep, the bottle languidly hanging from his mouth.

Ransom glanced down, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your baby’s hair. “Love you, spawn”

“Stop calling him that!” You admonished.

"I mean it endearingly," he lifted the tot and gently led him in his crib.

You tucked him in and turned on the night light, the pair of you posing in the doorway, watching for a second.

“He is beautiful, Ransom,” you sighed, “how did we make something so perfect?”

"I ask myself that every time I look in the mirror."

You turned to him with a sigh and roll of your eyes as he ran his hand through his hair, a soft look on his face.

“I know I’m an asshole, and I don’t deserve anything so wonderful but here we are, huh?”

"Here we are."

“Come on, princess.” His arm dropped round your shoulders. “I owe you a story.” His nose dipped into your temple as his lips fell over the shell of your ear. "And a few fingers."

“You do,” you smirked. “Which one d’ya wanna do first?”

"Fuck you into Christmas morning," he nipped at your ear as you walked the halls.

"That’s a week away… you think you got that kind of staying power?”

“Oh baby, you know I do.”

You flicked your brows, you knew he did. You definitely knew he did.

“Still wanna go downstairs?” He rumbled in your ear as you passed the door to your room.

"Nope." You pulled him into your doorway with a flirtatious giggle.

“Mrs Drysdale, I like your style,” he smirked as he kicked the door shut behind him.

Your lips were quick on his, his hands finding the hem of that sweater he loved to see you in so often. He loved your body, the way in ways it remained the same before Teddy and the supple ways it had changed since. His eyes flashed in the dim light coming from the strings of bulbs which hung down over the outside of your windows as he took in your bare chest, tiny shorts and socks which were pulled up to your knees.

"Fuck you're so beautiful," he breathed out as he backed you into the bed, his knees crawling across the mattress while your ass scooted along the plush surface. "My little kitten."

You blinked up at him coquettishly, your hands moving to the top of your right sock, but his fingers were quick to curl round your wrist, the metal of his wedding band cool against your skin.

“You know I like them, princess, leave 'em on.”

“Kinky fucker." You bit your lip.

"With you, anything," he smirked.

His lips pressed back you yours, the kiss urgent as his tongue battled for dominance with yours

"No foreplay," you nipped at his bottom lip. "Need you."

“So we’re skipping the fingers,” he nodded, sitting back in his heels and tugging your sleep shorts down, “needy bitch.”

Gracefully, he rose to his feet and whipped off his burgundy sweater before he undid his belt and jeans, and in a flash was naked by the side of the bed.

"Plans change," you swallowed, admiring your husband's body and form. Stay at home fatherhood didn't change him in physical or mental prowess whatsoever.

His hands gripped your ankles and he gave a sharp tug, pulling you down the bed so your ass was just perching on the edge at the foot.

"I thought I said... Oh fuck," his thick shaft slipped right inside.

"What was that?" He grunted as he pulled back and thrust forward again, his hands on your ankles, wrapping those smooth legs of yours around his slender waist.

"Oh fuck." You shuddered again.

“Yeah, that’s it…” he thrust deeper, “fahk, you were made for me.”

Your hands grasped for the comforter, fistfuls as he plowed into you as deep as he could. Your preening and gasping well heard no doubt if company were around.

"Fahking take me so well, kitten."

“Hugh, fuck…”

"Don't... call... me... that..." he grunted with each thrust. "Say my name."

You smirked sinfully and preened as he hit a sensitive spot, "Ransom."

"Yeah, baby, you’re mine.”

"Harder, please. Fill me up," you whimpered.

"Gonna fill you so good you’ll be feeling me for days, princess.”

"Dripping with you," you panted.

“God, you’re a dirty bitch,” he grunted, pulling out of you. You whined but didn’t have much chance to protest as he manhandled you onto your front.

Ass up, face down, his hand curled a kind your neck as your cheek pressed to the bed. In a jolt he was back inside you, a loud hiss coming from his mouth.

"Such a tight pussy, kitten, all mine," his flat tongue laved up your spine as he pistoned into you.

"Yeah, always…”

A few more deep thrusts and you were crying his name as you came. Your body went lax in his hold as your orgasm washed over you, your mind a pure blank as his hips continued powering in and out of you

You could feel him swell and pulse inside you, his fingertips pressing into your hips. A gutteral growl boomed from his throat and chest as he spilled into you.

A moment later he collapsed onto the bed besides you, turning you both as he did so. Strong, possessive arms held you to him, your back pressed to his chest.

He peppered between your shoulders with kisses, soft and slow. Your chest inflated slowly as you steadied your breath, breathing out long exhales.

"I love you," his nose bumped the back of your ear.

"I love you, too." You replied. "And I love Bistro de Paris."

You giggled a little as you felt his kisses stop, his body grow rigid behind you, his softened cock still stuffed inside you, plugging his essence from dripping out. "What?"

“You heard.”

That low, deep chuckle grew in his well sculpted chest, "Busted."

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "Next time, take the trash out beforehand."

“I did try. Those pans we have kept burning everything.”

"Blaming the pans isn’t going to improve your skills, Ransom."Gently you turned in his hold, your body freeing him from your heat. "But, I deeply appreciate the effort, honey. I know you try."

He smirked a little, his lips pecking yours, “we know my skills lie in the bedroom, princess, not the kitchen.”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

You and Nick Vaughan had been together for five years. You didn't know each other when you had both fled New York City for something new and coincidentally both landed in Chicago, finding each other through the Single in Chicago dating website. Nick had spent several of the years before you met working hard not to commit to anyone or anything, after being dumped by the love of his life in college. He’d jumped from band to band, gig to gig, and finally needed a change of scenery to try and find his purpose. You had been in a committed relationship for 12 years but it had never evolved beyond you and your partner being anything more than lovers. You’d parted friends, though you never expected to see him again, and you’d made a clean break from the city where you were born and raised to a new and exciting adventure.

On your first date, Nick had agreed to meet you for a drink late one evening after you’d finished a project at work. As you walked into the bar, the band caught your eye, especially the incredibly hot guy playing trumpet. He was tall with spiky brown hair and piercing blue eyes. His button down black shirt showed off his strong biceps and pecs, highlighting his tapered waist. The gray slacks he wore hugged his sweet ass just right. You sighed, thinking that whoever he was going home to tonight was a lucky girl. You almost fell off the barstool when you texted your online date your location and the hot trumpet player walked straight to you.

You found it so easy to talk to him. Despite being ten years older than him, you had lots of things in common. You’d closed the bar down that night and spent the rest of the evening walking around the city, the conversation flowing, until he walked you to your apartment as the sun rose and kissed you good morning. You’d been inseparable since. Within three months he’d moved into your apartment, and three months later, you’d ducked into the Justice of the Peace’s office and said your “I do’s.” You loved his family, he loved yours and every day had been better than the last.

So tonight, when the band had taken their first break, you grabbed him a gin and tonic from the bar and started to walk over to the stage when you caught sight of him and stopped on a dime. There was a beautiful young woman in full-on flirt mode with him. She was probably in her early 20’s, petite but with ample cleavage, which was impossible to miss in her tight red dress that barely went past her cute round ass. Her stiletto heels barely brought her to shoulder height with him, but they accomplished much in accentuating her shapely legs. She was standing so close to him, her hand on his forearm, and whatever he said must’ve been hysterical because she threw her head back to laugh, her long chestnut hair spread across her shoulders.

You were used to women flirting with him. He was gorgeous and he drew the attention of women everywhere you went. Tonight, though, he seemed engaged with this girl. He was laughing with her, not moving away, but leaning into her. You felt the air leave your lungs and you turned and headed back to the bar, steadying yourself along the edge. You weren’t sure why this time was so impactful, but you suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious and, well, old. You looked down at your dress, a little black dress that hugged your curves, showing how worked hard you worked to keep your body in shape underneath, but it wasn’t like her body. For whatever reason, you suddenly felt that your relationship was very vulnerable. It had never truly occurred to you that Nick could have any woman he wanted, and really, as many women as he wanted. The thought made a chill run down your spine. Tonight it was as if you’d seen into the future, and it scared the hell out of you.

As tears burned at the back of your eyes, you abandoned the drinks and went to the bathroom, gathering your composure. When you returned to the party room, the band had started playing again and the flirtatious groupie was sitting at a table in front of the stage, her eyes fixed on Nick. You stayed back at the bar for the rest of the evening, meeting Nick at the stage once the band had packed up their equipment. He took your hand, his trumpet case in the other, as you walked from the hotel to your apartment.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said. The night was chilly, a typical December night in the city, and he pulled you close to him, wrapping an arm around you. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “I’m good.”

“How’d we sound tonight?”

“Amazing, as always,” you said, trying to sound like you had a smile in your voice.

As you finished getting ready for bed, you looked past the silk chemise you normally wore to bed and pulled out a t-shirt and flannel pants. You felt anything but sexy tonight.

You turned down the bed as Nick returned to the bedroom. He emerged from the bathroom in his boxer briefs and climbed into bed next to you.

“Babe, something’s going on. Don’t you want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing,” you said, pulling the blankets up and rolling onto your side, facing him.

“I know better,” he said as he rolled to face you, propping himself up on an elbow. His other hand gently touched your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “Come on babe, what’s wrong?”

“I’m old,” you said simply.

He let out a chuckle. “Babe, you’re not old. Why would you even say that?”

You let out a sigh, wrapping a hand around his arm. “That girl,” you said softly.

“What girl?”

“The one in the red dress, the one that was coming on to you. She was beautiful. And young,” you said. “I just – I can’t compete with that,” you said sadly.

He leaned over and pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Baby, where is this coming from?”

“I just, I don’t know. I looked at her and how cute she looked next to you and I just realized, you could do so much better. I felt like I was invisible.”

He ran his hand over your hair, pulling you closer. “What color dress did you say she was wearing?”

You looked into those beautiful blues. “You know, it was red,” you said.

“No, I don’t. Don’t remember it at all. Wanna know why?”

You sighed for the millionth time that night, ready to hear some kind of lame excuse.

“I was kinda busy trying to concentrate on something besides you.”

You drew back, your jaw dropping, and glared at him. “Excuse me?”

He smiled, laughed a little, and pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “You may not have noticed my wife tonight,” he said. “She was wearing this banging little black dress and it showed off her incredibly hot body. Every time I looked at her, my dick got hard.”

You rolled your eyes. “Really?” you said sarcastically.

“Yeah, actually,” he said. “So I kept trying to distract myself from looking at you, because I was front and center on stage and my pants didn’t really have the spare space.” He smiled his amazing smile. “Then I found a good distraction. I saw all the men in the room looking at you. ALL of them. So I thought about the things they were thinking about and how I’d be the one to do all of them.”

You pulled your eyebrows together in a quizzical look. “What do you mean?” you said, snuggling closer to him.

“Well,” he said, “I’m the one who’d get to hold your hand and walk you to our home. I’m the one who’d climb the stairs to our bedroom and crawl into bed next to you. I’m the one who,” he said as he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss, “gets to kiss you goodnight again tonight.”

You smiled for the first time since you’d gotten home and ran your hand over his cheek, your fingers gently tugging at his neatly-trimmed beard. You heard a little moan escape him as he moved closer to you.

“I’m the one who knows how incredible you look under that sexy dress,” he said, his hand finding its way to your hip. “I’m the one who gets to run my hands over your soft skin.” He gently ran his hand up under your t-shirt to your breast, pulling the nipple gently between his fingertips, eliciting a moan from you.

He nestled even closer to you, kissing you deeply. “Best of all,” he said as he let his hand trail down your belly, pulling the elastic waist of your jammie pants down and reached into your lace panties, “I knew that in just a few hours, I’d be in our bed, making you make all those sexy noises you make when I’m buried inside you,” he growled in his low, sexy voice as he found your sensitive bundle of nerves, a finger circling your clit, his mouth on yours, kissing your breathless.

“Nick,” you moaned, your hips bucking up, begging for more.

He held his hand still, his other strong arm pulling you to him. That ice blue gaze took your breath away.

“I love you,” he said very matter-of-factly. “Just you. You’re my everything.” His lips were once more on yours, delivering a searing kiss. “Do you know how long I waited to find you? I’d all but given up that I’d ever find the one that was meant for me.” He smiled that electric smile. “And then there you were. And I’ll spend every minute of the rest of our lives making you understand just how much I love you, Mrs. Vaughn.”

“Reflect upon your present blessings—of which every man has many—not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”

Early December, 2013

"You know I can’t tell you that!” You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll get shot. All I can say is they’re keeping very true to Shadow’s comic book character. So, if you know you know. And I’m really excited to join the MCU. For a comic book geek like me, it’s a dream come true.”

Chris watched as you sat in the directors chair, next to Kelly and Michael, right in front of Disney World's Epcot, filming a segment for Live! With Kelly and Michael. You was there, doing an interview for your next film, due out this Christmas, about King Nicholas' daughter trying to find a way to bring the magic of the holidays back to her kingdom.

Filming a Disney animated film had been a dream come true for you and he knew it. Yet, he had to laugh at the way Michael snuck in a Marvel question.

“So you can’t give us any little snippets about the next Cap film?” Kelly pleaded, “nothing?”

“Nope.” You laughed, wagging your finger, “you’ll have to wait for the official press tour in the new year.”

Chris rolled his eyes as you dodged the typical questions. Filming had wrapped back in June of this year and the sequel to blockbuster hit, The First Avenger, was set to premiere in mid-March. Yet it was a well versed fact that everyone would try and cajole snippets out of the Marvel cast any way they could.

There was some more chat then about how voicing animation differed to live action movies and then, he sat up as Michael hit you with a question that wasn’t entirely off topic, but made him cringe nonetheless.

“So, in A Christmas Wish, Jeffrey Dean Morgan plays, or voices, your father, King Nicholas and obviously you starred alongside him and Chris Evans in The Losers a few years back. How did it feel being reunited again with your old costars?”

"Well, the weird thing is, I actually didn't see Jeff until we were doing press, because the beauty of animation is you can kinda record it anywhere. Where with Chris…” You hesitated and he groaned, knowing full well that was going to be picked up on. “Well, I was literally stuck with him in tight quarters sometimes for three months,” you laughed, trying to keep it light although your eyes told a different story.

“I can think of worse places to be stuck.” Kelly mused and you snorted. 

“Well, it… it can get hard when you’re living on top of one another for so long, it definitely helps when you get along.” You diplomatically answered.

"Do you though?" Michael seized his chance. "Does everyone get along? I mean, we're you the freshman here?"

Chris inhaled as Michael and Kelly both pressed you, and he watched you squirm to as you clearly were thinking of a way to dodge or redirect.

In the end, to his surprise, you did neither.

“Okay, I know what you’re hinting at, the rumours of a rift  between me and Evans so to speak but… ya know, we had a few creative differences but that’s it,” you feigned a casual shrug. “Chris is a passionate guy and knows Steve Rogers and is protective over him. I know my character and there were a few little disagreements on some aspects of filming in a couple of scenes but… it all gets left on set. You gotta draw that line, ya know?”

Chris could tell that, despite your best attempt to appear otherwise, you were rattled. Especially as your left hand toyed with your earlobe. He snorted and scoffed as he remembered exactly the moment you were talking about. It hadn’t been left on set, far from it. For once the trash mags had been correct in their reporting.

Thankfully, the interview went back to your current project and then finished about ten minutes later.

At that point, Chris shut the television off and got himself ready for the gym. It was early afternoon when he got a message from Meghan asking if he’d checked his Twitter. 

With a groan he opened up his account and searched through. Sure enough, you were trending as was he. The original article from TMZ, originally published mid-shoot, which had reported the argument so to speak was being dug up and reblogged again along with a bunch of new comments. The majority of people tweeting seemed to take your denial of said rift as confirmation.

And his fans were wasting no time in twisting the knives.

With an eye roll he called Meghan. “Well, this is fun…”

“You think?” She scoffed, “that was a pretty shitty question they asked her."

"She should have been better prepared but she handled it well, I mean, she's normally one to run her mouth.”

“Stop it," Megan scolded. "You are one to talk."

“Meaning?”

"Look, that's not the current point, what is is there's now a cacophony of comments and before you get a good lashing from Marvel, or her team jump in with something that paints you out to be the asshole, you need to redirect."

He sighed, “you told me not to say anything last time!”

"Well, clearly this is snowballing a second time and we need to stop it, so redirect. Post something political, or, I don't know, hug a tree or a strangers dog and take a picture."

“Message understood.”

“And call Y/N, thank her for not actually saying what she was probably wanting to."

“No. Hard pass." He shook his head as he spoke.

“I wasn’t asking.”

"Fine." Chris grumbled. "But I'm not happy about it."

“Good boy,” came the sarcastic reply.

He ended the call and with a huge groan scrolled through his contacts, stopping at one; PIMA. With a deep breath and an eye roll, he hit call and sat tapping his foot as he tried to reach you.

“What do you want?” You answered after his third attempt.

"Saw your slow pitfall this morning. I'm supposed to be thanking you for not speaking your mind. So... Thanks." He chewed on his cheek. 

She scoffed, “well you can tell Meg you did as you were told, good boy. How the fuck she puts up with you I don’t know.”

"Why are you such a brat?”

“And don’t worry, my team have no response to this shit storm on social media prepared. I can’t be bothered.”

“You know, there wouldn't be a shit storm to not be bothered with and we wouldn't be having this conversation if you'd just done what you’re media coached to do and that's reflect, redirect and move on. You....got sucked in." He growled.

There was a pause, “fuck you!” You snarled in response, “I deflected well enough and saved your precious golden boy reputation despite me being well within my rights not to-“

“Within your rights?”

“-do you have any idea how it felt earlier in the year when that article broke? Your fans ripped me apart. I was fat, ugly, fame hungry and you did NOTHING to stop any of it!”

"Shoes fit, sweetheart. You came at me, remember? You said you didn't like how Joe and Anthony had pinned you and Scarlett up like they had, you didn't like the way we had to improvise. I simply defended a character I've been for quite some time."

There was a pause as you took a deep breath, “I didn’t come at you!! I raised a concern I had, and Scarlett, Seb and Mackie had my back but you, you made me feel like shit on set. Like I was stupid, dumb…and left me to the wolves. You know what, Marvel might be my first big break but it’s yours too, remember that, asshole!”

The line went dead as the call purposely dropped on your end. Chris grumbled as he tossed his phone down and ran his hands over his face, scratching at that beard of his that was slowly growing back in. "Jesus, she's fahking impossible. Boils my blood."

But something about what you said was nagging at him. Sure, things had gotten hairy on set but he had simply assumed you’d ignored the comments and reactions arms he had. And he certainly hadn’t set out to belittle you.

It bothered him all the more because during filming for The Losers, you’d been tight. Real tight. It made him a little sad to think somewhere that had gotten lost along the way.

He looked at the phone again and was just about to call you back, perhaps attempt to maybe talk it through a little more calmly, when it lit up. Mackie was calling.

"What's up, dude?"

“Listen, far be it from me to get involved but what the fuck is with you and Y/N. She’s just called me in hysterics.”

Chris hung his head as if Mackie could see him. "I needed to talk to her and it ended like it always does, a fahking death match."

“Listen, I’m gonna say my piece and I’m done but don’t you think this had got outta hand? She merely questioned what the endgame with Shadow was. It wasn’t a dig st the improv scene. She just couldn’t see how it fit. But that aside, you really thinks she deserves the hatchet job that’s going down now?”

He had him there. No she didn't, neither of them did.

"You fucking idiot." Mackie sighed deeply when Chris remained silent. “Look, I’m on my way over to see her…”

“You’re in Florida?”

“She invited us over so the kids could enjoy Disney World. We’re going to the premiere. Her parents can’t make it, her dad ain’t been well.“

"She... Oh." Again, the situation left him without words, a rare occurance for himself. Then he sighed. "Just text me when you're done, huh? I'll try calling her later when she's calmed down."

But Anthony wasn’t done, “you know, she met with Feige a few weeks back? Asked him how much it would cost to back out of her contract and recast her.”

That floored him. "What?"

“You heard.”

"Fahk." He drawled in his slow, thick Boston accent.

"Yeah, fuck." Mackie mimicked. "You need to calmly fix this, for all our sakes."

“How? Like…”

“I dunno man, be more Steve Rogers… perhaps mean your apology.” There was a pause before Anthony laughed, “actually don’t, because he’s a reckless, stubborn asshole.”

"We're a lot alike in that sense." Chris sighed. "I'll think of something. Just... Keep her from going off the rails with ya? We used to be friends. We were tight, years ago. Then, I have no clue."

"I'll do my best, see you in the new year.”

"Yeah, see you man. Give my best to the wife and kids."

The call ended and Chris groaned. This was shit, and right now he felt like an asshole. He hated bullies, another of Steve’s traits he shared but now, he was beginning to feel a little like one.

And this was all down to the fact he couldn’t control his real feelings…

“Dick head,” biting his cheek he picked up his phone, checking Twitter again and grimaced. Some of it had taken a real nasty turn.

“Oh, fahk this…” he grumbled, and before he could back out, he typed a tweet.

It wasn’t much, but for now it was the best he could think of. His words were true, you were. As he sat and thought about everything, looking around in his lonely, huge, Hollywood hills home, he sighed as the bones of a plan formed on his head.

Standing from his couch, he headed for his room. This idea was not smart, it would stir a tonne of shit, and Megan would highly disapprove, but, he knew deep down you weren’t going to take his calls, no matter how hard Anthony worked at you. This called for desperate measures.

He refused to be the reason someone walked out of a job, a job that was going to skyrocket one incredibly talented and beautiful woman into the fast lane of her career.

"Josh, I need a favor. Or two...."

🎄🎄🎄🎄

You woke the next morning with a banging head. Mackie and you had sunk a very expensive scotch before he had left in the early hours of the morning after you’d assured him you were okay.

If anything you were embarrassed, annoyed too at how much that Bostonian Bastard could get under your skin.

Grumbling into your pillow you tried to comprehend where it all had gone wrong so quickly. Your time in Costa Rica years ago with him and the rest of The Losers was a great time, one of the times you'd ever had on set. You and Chris had been close, very close. Almost crossing that line between friends and more but not quite making it. But you’d left things on good terms, stayed in touch, talked and chatted when you saw one another at events and the like.

You’d been excited to get the part in Marvel, even more so when you were told you’d be one of the leads in the second Cap film… but for some reason, Chris had been lukewarm at best the moment you arrived on set. You, being fresh from a breakup, had probably let it get to you more than you should but it had. And still did. Because you didn’t understand. 

"Fucking asshole," you groaned, slowly sitting up. You grimly looked around your bedroom and sighed. "Shower, then coffee, no, coffee then shower."

You called downstairs for fresh coffee and toast with some greasy bacon and eggs, some potatoes and fruit. Then decided showering the stench of scotch away was a good idea while you waited for room service.

Just as you’d dressed in a pair of jeans and a logo tee, there was a knock on your door.

"Just a second!" You called our, towelling off your wet hair, bare feet padding to the door.

You swung it open, but weren’t greeted by your breakfast.

"What the fuck?”

Blue eyes pierced yours from under the brim of a Red Sox cap, a sweatshirt and jeans covering his body. "Room Service?"

“Idiot!” You hissed, glancing up and down the corridor. 

You yanked him inside and grabbed your cart behind him. "Just what the fuck are you doing here?" Your head spun, it throbbed.

“I wanted to talk to you, and you won’t answer my calls.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that, I don’t wanna talk to you!”

"Y/N," he sighed, taking your hands, "come on, this is extreme. We're too old for this shit."

"Extreme?” You yanked your hands away. “You're preaching to me about extreme actions when you literally just flew over three thousand miles all because your co-star didn't answer your phone call. How fucking childish! Even for you!" 

"Ant told me you went to see Fiege."

At that you blinked and then shook your head. “He had no right to do that.”

"Deal with that later," he popped a potato in his mouth. "Sit down and talk to me. Obviously, as you pointed out, I flew over three thousand miles to fix whatever absolute disaster has been created between us for whatever fahking reason. We used to be friends."

“Yeah, and then you turned into an asshole.” You wrapped your arms around your chest as you blinked back tears. “You made me feel like shit!”

"I'm sorry, you're right, I did, I was. I am an asshole. I don’t know where we went wrong.”

“You! You went wrong…”

“Fine, but why has it taken us six months to sit down and talk about this?"

You blinked and scoffed, “I had no desire to talk to you and be told I was being a drama Queen! You brushed me off, were cold… I’ve got no answers because I don’t KNOW!”

"Then we're at an impasse because I don't know either."

"You wasted your time and money on this trip, Chris."

“Clearly,” he sighed, “but God loves a trier huh?”

You stared at him, unable to even think if this was a scotch dream, your worst nightmare or the ghosts of Christmas past and present playing one fucked up trick on you.

“Look,” he leaned forward in his seat a little, blue eyes trained on you. “For what it’s worth I’m sorry. I’ve no explanation, I should have seen how it was making you feel, and for what it’s worth, I meant what I tweeted last night. And if you leave now, I think it will be a huge mistake on your part, and a huge loss for the rest of us.”

You licked your lips, your bottom one being pulled through your teeth. Your hand ran through your wet hair. "I can't... I don't know. The offer is on the table. I'm supposed to be back in LA to meet with them again after Christmas."

“They actually said you could sever?”

"We're negotiating." You answered honestly.

Chris took a deep breath and nodded, “I’m assuming there’s a deadline seeing as we’re supposed to start the prep for filming the next Avengers on March.”

"Like I said, after Christmas."

“Okay.” He slapped his thighs and stood up. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ve said my piece and, well, I’m sure you’ll do what’s right for you. But, I do mean this, it’ll be a shame to see you go,”

You grabbed his forearm, "Chris..."

“Yeah?”

"I don't want to go. But I don't know if I can handle this anymore," you admitted shyly.

He hung his head, “yeah I get that too. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

"Is it me? Am I that hard to work with? Because we didn't have this problem before."

“No, not at all. I just… I honestly didn’t mean to act like I did. I don’t know what it was. I wasn’t aware I was doing anything, certainly not before our bust up anyway. But that’s not an excuse, I get it.”

You looked at him for a moment. His eyes were earnestly searching yours, his face genuinely contrite and you could tell he was being honest.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, deciding to take the olive branch. For your sake, not his…

"Maybe I took it more personal than I needed to. I just... I'd just gotten out of something and I brought it to work with me. Failed the first rule, you know."

“We all do that.” He chuckled then sighed. “Have you heard from him recently?”

"No. He's with... It doesn't matter, he's moved on. I gave him the ring back and that's it."

“His loss.” Chris shrugged. 

There was a brief pause as you thought about him. How it went down and how much it hurt you. 

"He felt threatened. My career was going up and his stalled." You shrugged. "He didn't want me to take the Marvel job."

“Yeah well, for the record, I never liked the prick.”

“And there he is,” you chuckled, shaking your head, “there’s the Chris I know and kinda like.”

“Kinda?”

“Don’t push it.” Your smile was soft. You sighed. "What the fuck happened?" You stood. "I... We..."

“I don’t know, I wish I did.”

"You kissed me in Costa Rica. It was the wrap party, we never spoke of it again."

Chris swallowed, “I know. I… well, I pulled a Steve, didn’t I? By the time I got my head out my ass, you were dating him and… well, I got back together with Minka…”

"You won out, I'm the over dramatic, single one." You chuckled uncomfortably.

“Hardly,” he shook his head, “ didn’t work for either of us did it?”

"You.... The two of you..."

"Two months ago. We're just not the same people. We tried. Gave it a year but," he shook his head. 

“I had no idea! How the fuck did I miss that?”

“Well, we didn’t make a huge deal of it. It’s mostly gone under the radar so far, and it’s not like we really talked is it? I know you don’t like her.”

“She also doesn’t like me.”

You gave him a second, a chance to see if there was anything he wanted to share more but didn't. 

"Okay, let’s… I… start over.” You licked your lips, “just… try not to be dickheads?”

"Deal, easy as that."

“Okay,” you nodded, “I don’t wanna be rude but I’m meeting Ant and the kids in an hour but…” your hands pulled at one another.

"Well, maybe if you don't have plans, we can grab some drinks, on the down low later? Either my room or yours, just hang out, talk, catch up?"

"Sure, erm… I can message you when I’m back?”

"Yep, I'll be here. Josh snagged me a premiere ticket just in case you slammed the door on me now. I figured I'd keep trying until you talked to me."

"Pretty extreme, even for you, Evans."

"Don’t worry, I was going in through the backdoor. You've had enough bullshit this week thanks to me."

“Maybe showing a united front would stop this bullshit once and for all,” you mused.

“Maybe, we can talk it through later. I’m happy to do whatever.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,”

"I mean it. Whatever started this shit, I fucked up, and I'm sorry." He now stood at the door, his hand in the handle.

You were behind him. “Fresh start remember?”

"I know, just..." He pointed to his head, "clearing out the noise."

“Gets loud in there huh? I feel ya.” You gestured to your own.

"We should talk about that shit, some time, like we used to."

“One step at a time,” you gave him a soft smile.

"I'll see you tonight. Maybe." He reached out to hug you. 

"Yeah, maybe." You hugged him back. 

With a final nod he left and you watched the door close behind you. You stood still before you wiped the tears from your cheeks and turned to get ready for your day.

🎄🎄🎄🎄

You were sorting through the new photos taken of the partners and senior staff for the website and promotional pamphlets for new client packets and press releases when you got to Andy's file.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the handsome bastard as he sat on the stool, one leg bent with his foot resting on the bar, the other flat on the floor. Those large, gentle hands, which had the previous night trailed the curved of your body, were clasped in his lap, crisp and immaculate shirt and suit adorned his body as he smiled firmly beneath a perfectly trimmed beard.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumbled.

"You okay over there?" Amber giggled as she locked eyes with you, setting foot into your office.

“What?” You looked up quickly

"You look a little....flushed."

“Oh, the temp…it’s warm, no?”

Amber peered over your shoulder and smirked with a flick of her brows, "damn you're one lucky bitch. I can see why you're looking like you do."

You let out a snort, all pretence gone. “He should be illegal.”

"I'd arrest him," she joked then sighed. "I'm going home, I need to do some last minute shopping before the family get in. Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Merry Christmas, Amber," you stood and hugged her. "Enjoy the holiday."

"You too! Enjoy your parents and sister visiting." She beamed as she walked off. "I'd say enjoy Andy, but I already know you're doing that."

You laughed and watched her leave before your eyes strayed back to the photos. Exhaling, you sorted them back into a pile and dropped them into your drawer to be dealt with in the new year.

As you shut your office down, you smiled to yourself, your new engagement ring glistening in the overhead florescent lights. This Christmas was different than your first together, your relationship had taken off, you were engaged and the growth not only between you but within yourself was exponential.

You glanced at your watch and sighed with a sound, it was time to go home. Your parents were arriving with Penny tomorrow and from there you had just a few shopping days left to gather the gifts needed and set your kitchen up for your baking extravaganza which you, your mother and sister were planning, all whilst Andy and your dad did whatever they figured was holiday manly bonding time.

Shutting off your lights, you grabbed your purse and coat, heading up to Andy's office to see if he was ready to head out.

His door was open, but he was on a call. Leaning back in his chair, tie loose, top button undone. He gave a laugh down the handset and glanced up, beckoning you in with a huge smile.

You hung your coat on the stand by his door, your purse too before you shut the door behind you and locked it shut. No one was around, you and Andy the only ones in the firm this time of evening.

He looked so good the way he sat, it was still criminal. And truthfully, you hadn't come down from the high his photos had produced. While his beard had grown out just a little more since the shoot and his hair a little longer, God damn did he make you quiver.

He arched a brow, eyes flicking to the door before they moved to yours, shining with amusement.

“Listen, sorry to cut this short but something just came up,” he spoke into the phone, eyes still on yours, “no problem. We’ll catch up in the New Year. Merry Christmas, Duffy.”

He placed his phone down on the desk. “Angel?”

You spoke of nothing, only kicked off your vintage heeled Mary Janes and struted over to him in the cream sweater dress you wore, hitting the 'Do Not Disturb' on his desk phone, just in case. With a knit sock covered knee squeezing between each of his hips and the seat of his fancy leather office chair, you straddled him. Your lips latched to his in a dirty, filthy kiss as your fingers raked through the thinner yet delightfully still soft beard.

Andy palmed and squeezed your ass, pulling back, "Jesus Christ."

"That's what I said."

“What?”

"Your new press photos."

"Oh..."

“Oh? That’s all you got to say for yourself, Counselor? Oh?”

"Yeah, oh." He shrugged with you still on his lap. "Angel, you see me every day, it's not changed."

“Not like that! Jesus, Andy. You know I’m not sure I’m gonna approve them. The thought of you being responsible for ruining every pair of panties in the Northern Hemisphere kinda makes me a little territorial…”

"Who's going to even be looking? Outside a rare criminal or two."

“Everyone in the damned firm!” You whined.

Andy gave a low chuckle. "And you locked my door because?"

Your hands danced up his chest and you shrugged. “You’re a smart guy, figure it out.”

"You know the rules, you have to tell me what you want."

“Fine. I want you to know in no uncertain terms as to exactly who you belong to.” You flicked your brows as you licked your lips. “So you either fuck me over your desk or I’ll get down on my knees. I’m not fussy.”

Andy’s jaw dropped, like his brain shorted out for a second. “Holy shit, Y/N,” he swallowed, his eyes wide.

"On my knees it is." You slid down his lap and legs, your knees hitting the carpeted floor beneath you. Your hands quickly were on his belt, undoing the buckle with a clink before sliding the clasp away and pulling the zip down its teeth.

You pulled his half hard cock free, pumping your hand around his girth a couple times.

“Angel, I… fahk.” His protest died in his mouth the moment you took him in yours.

You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed, using your hand curled around his shaft to fulfill your strokes. You felt his hand come to the back of your head and tangle in your hair.

Andy grunted and moaned as you swallowed him down, "fahk, honey. That's it."

You moved slowly but deliberately, your tongue flat against the underside of his dick, teasing along the vein. You felt him throb against the hollow of your cheeks and you knew he was close.

"Angel…” his hand moved from your hair down your face, gently grasping your chin as you pulled off him with a slight pop, “get up here, baby.”

Your swollen and red lips, coated with your spit, smiled as you got off your knees, slowly rising. You turned your back to him, reaching under that sweater dress and pulled your panties down over your legs. Your eyes were cast over your shoulder as you backed into him, watching how he stroked his cock with his eyes on you. The hem of your sweater dress in your hands, you sunk down on Andy, facing his desk.

“I love this side to you,” his lips nipped at your neck as he bucked upwards, one large hand creeping up your dress to squeeze your breast. “So fucking demanding.”

"Ugh, fuck," you moaned. "I have needs, too, Counselor."

“I’ll always give you what you need,” his other hand cupped your other breast, slipping into the cups of your bra.

"Yeah," you whimpered as your hips twisted and rolled with his deep and slow pistoning hips. "Andy...."

“Tell me, Angel.” His fingers tweaked at your nipples, the way he knew you loved. That beard scratched at your neck as he kissed behind your ear.

"I need to cum," you whined.

With a growl, and still buried inside you, he lifted you and bent you over his desk. The mahogany was slippery under your finger tips as you grasped for purchase for the railing you knew you were about to get.

Wasting no time, Andy nudged your feet apart and began fucking into you in quick, deep strokes.

"Yes, Andy, please, that's it."

"Fahk, Angel, you look so good taking my dick like this," the filth poured from his mouth.

You groaned as his hands curled over your hips.

“That’s it honey, come on…”

You reached between yourselves and spread two fingers over your folds, feeling his cock between your digits, and pressed the palm of your hand into your clit.

"Jesus, Angel, I can feel that.”

You squeezed your fingers toward each other adding a tighter pressure to his shaft as your thumb replaced your palm, rubbing at that sensitive nub. You were tight, your insides buzzing with impending orgasm.

“Fahk…” Andy’s curse was broken and you could tell he was fighting off his release, “honey…I’m…please tell me you’re close.”

"Yes, so close," you moaned.

Andy took a hand from your hip and grabbed a handful of your hair pulling back just enough to get you to give a good 'ugh' from your throat. If you didn't cum now, he was going to explode and you knew it. You could feel it, the way he was tightening his hold on you, the control within shattering quickly if you didn't get yours before.

He bent forward, his hips already faltering as his teeth grazed your neck, “baby, I can’t hold… I’m gonna…”

"Together," you panted, your remaining hand curling around his neck, your fingers slaying in his hair. You wanted that beard to rough your cheek up.

He knew, he always did. His arm crossed over your chest as your back arched. He tilted your head round, cheek pressed to yours, mouths locking together.

With a handful more snaps of his hips and your fingers squeezing him, the two of you came together, tongues gnashing about as you swallowed the other's cries.

It took you a moment to regain any semblance of yourself as you took in gulps of air, Andys forehead pressed to yours.

"What the fahk was that?" He rasped. "That's one of the sexiest stunts you've pulled, baby, ever."

“I don’t…I don’t know.” You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat a little

"Well, I liked it."

“Me too,” your eyes opened as Andy pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"We gotta go though, the maids are gonna find us and they have keys."

“It’s not that late but point taken.”

Andy pulled away and slipped from your warmth. He kissed you softly as he tucked himself back into his slacks and fixed his dress shirt, ignoring his ill done and crooked tie.

"Patti's for dinner? Head into Denver in the morning do some shopping before we get your parents and Penny?"

“Erm, yeah…” you sorted yourself out, suddenly feeling a little cold and conscious of what you’d just done. “Sounds…sounds good.”

"What's wrong?" Andy picked up on it immediately.

“Nothing,” you were quick to smile, “Just hungry.”

"Angel...."

“I just…” you shook your head. “I’m gonna ruin the moment, please.”

"Y/N," Andy settled his hands back to your hips pulling you in. His nose bumped yours. "I'm right here. Deep breath in, baby."

“The last time any…anyone fucked me over a desk it…it was him.” Your voice was a whisper. “It was one of his favourite things to make me do and I don’t…I can’t understand why my mind took me back there just now, or why I wanted it and…”

"Hey..... Hey, hey, hey," Andy's arms came around you and held your head to his chest. "Deep breath, Angel."

“I’m sorry.”

"No, baby, don't be sorry. I... I didn't hurt you did I? Did I... Did I trigger something?"

“No, God, no.” You pulled back and looked at him. “I wanted it. I enjoyed it, just my stupid brain making me ask why I did when…I can’t explain.” You finished lamely.

"I didn't question it, obviously," then he sighed. "It was great. But I'm sorry you feel this way. I've learned that sometimes trauma can hit you when you least expect it and when you thought you've healed. I think it's okay to experience it if it's in a positive light."

“I wouldn’t expect you to question it, I instigated it and it was good, more than good. It was great.”

"Spades a spade then? I don't know what to do here, honey. But I want help you and I can promise you that you're safe."

“I know I am, and this is why I didn’t want to mention it.” You sighed, “it’s not what we did, it’s the fact I can’t understand why my brain took me back there. I haven’t thought about him, or any of them in so long.”

Andy's eyes were soft, sincere. "Maybe it wants you to see you've healed? I don't know." He sighed, "I'll tell you what," he helped you slip into your coat, "why don't we go home first, I'll draw you a bath and then pick up Patti's to go while you relax?"

“No,” you shook your head, “I got a better idea. Let’s go to Patti’s then stay out, get drunk. It’s Christmas.”

"Works for me." He snorted. "Let's get outta here."

“Thought we could make the most of it as when Grant comes home in the new year, we’ll have to pick him up from doggy day care, although Eva did say I could take him to the office.”

"Of course she did."He chuckled." He's not even home yet and he's spoiled."

“Well, technically I’ll be managing the office when she’s on maternity leave so…” you shrugged then grinned, “I can’t wait to pick him up!”

At that Andy laughed, his joy at your pure excitement shining through.

“Just wait, you’ll be a full blown dog dad soon.”

He rolled his eyes, "don't call it that!"

"Why not?" You smirked, "it's true."

“I’ll be his master.”

“Yeah that’s what my dad said about Bongo.”

"Well, we know that's not fahking true. That mutt runs the show. That's not gonna happen with us."

"Okay, BB, whatever you say.”

He opened the door for you and put the two of you went into the snowy and cold Colorado winter. Hand in hand you trekked across the square towards the parking garage where Andy opened the door for you to your jeep. Most days you'd carpooled unless Andy had a court appearance then you drove separately.

He turned to you when he got in. "I love you, Y/N. Please don't ever feel you have to hide stuff that comes up from the past, okay?"

“I don’t, baby, honestly. I just didn’t want to ruin the moment.”

"Okay,” he nodded, before he leaned over to kiss you. “Right, let’s dump the car and get drunk.”

You ditched the Jeep back at the condo and took an Uber to Patti's before hopping along the square and historic street, visiting each bar for what just to happened to end up being the Annual Boulder Holiday Beer Crawl.

By the time you were rolling, literally, out of bed as slow as could be, you were barely making it to Denver to collect your parents, Penny and a very dopey Bongo on time.

Your dad howled at the fact the pair of you were so disgustingly hungover, teasing Andy with the promise of a good scotch he’d brought with him to help him level up. Even going as far as to compare the two of you to Bongo, who'd been given doggy downers for the flight.

"Poor mutt's gonna be doped up until Christmas." He snorted.

"I told you, you gave him too much." Your mom groaned.

"It's doggy weed, he's loving life right now!" Penny joked. "You know what cures a hangover?" She paused for an answer. "Shopping!"

Both you and Andy groaned. Luckily, your mother stepped in.

"Tomorrow, Penny. Let's get settled at Y/N and Andy's before anything. And get Dopey Dooey here some food and water. Not to mention a small walk."

That night was relatively quiet, thankfully, but the next day you were pleased to report you felt normal again.

Between shopping in Denver and your baking festivities, Christmas Eve was fast approaching. You, Penny and your mom had planned a filling dinner for the day of but decided a charcuterie and beverage bar were the ticket for the eve. Especially with friends dropping in as an open house.

Almost everything was prepped the night before, meaning you could have a relatively relaxed morning.

Then, early afternoon, Andy walked into the kitchen where you where finishing chopping a selection of veg for a crudite platter and announced he had to pop out for an hour or so.

"On Christmas Eve?"

“Last minute present to pick up,” he shrugged on his jacket, “it arrived late, I won’t be long, promise honey.”

"Okay, I mean, be quick, Ron and Elle said they were stopping by soon." He swooped in for a kiss and you obliged. "Be safe."

“An hour, tops. Promise baby.”

"I trust you."

He chuckled, gave you another quick peck and headed out.

“You're so spoilt!” Penny scoffed as Andy disappeared through the door into the garage.

"What are you talking about?!"

"Super stud fiancé, rushing off for a last minute surprise!”

"I'm not spoilt."

“Penny, enough.” Your dad snapped

"I'm sorry, who's getting a house?"

“Stahp!” Your mom ordered, her accent strong. “Y/N, we’re not buying her a house, just giving her enough for the down payment. And when we can free up more funds, you’ll be getting the same amount, we don’t give to one and not the other. You know that.”

"I know! I never said that." You grumbled. "Penny, think about it, I don't deserve anything he gives me, including himself, but I'm grateful he has. Please for once, let us enjoy the holiday."

Penny blinked, “I never said you didn’t…” she sighed, “forget it. I was only trying to make a joke. I’m sorry.”

You went back to your crudités, hoping that Andy was back sooner than an hour.

He was, a minute sooner to be precise. Fifty-nine minutes after he left, you heard the newly installed and security updated electric garage door open (Andy’s early Christmas present to himself) and your jeep rolled in.

You smirked hearing the sound knowing he was just in time as you were expecting Ron and Elle any moment as well. You father and mother were enjoying mulled wine while Penny was texting her boyfriend on your couch.

You heard him open and shut the car door, then another, before you heard him mutter something that sounded a little like he was yelling someone it was okay. Frowning a little, you moved to the door but before you could get there, it swung open into yhe kitchen and your mouth fell open at the sight that greeted you

There in his wool coat covered arms sat a tiny, black and white spotted puppy with big and bright eyes with a big blue bow around its neck.

"Merry Christmas, Angel."

“Oh my…” you whispered as you approached them, “you said we weren’t gonna get him until the new year!”

"I wanted him to be a surprise," he said softly and warmly.

He passed the squirmy puppy over, his tail wagging so much his butt was wiggling. “Hi!”

“Oh my god!” You heard Penny squeal as you turned, a huge grin on your face as your puppy licked your nose.

“Meet Grant!” You grinned.

“Grant?” Your mum snorted and you chuckled.

“Yeah, after Dr Alan Grant…”

“Jesus.” She rolled her eyes as your dad laughed.

“See, told you it was stupid.” Andy reached out to scratch behind your puppy’s ear.

“It’s better than your suggestion of Spot, Mr Original.” You snuggled the pup and loved on him. Your heart was absolutely full.

Bongo gave an excited yip and you bit your lip.

“He’s not had his vaccinations…”

“But Bongo has,” your dad shook his head, “he’ll be fine.”

After a slight hesitation, you placed Grant down and he trotted towards the older dog who was stood, ears pricked, tail wagging.

“Look at them!” Your dad grinned, before he dropped to the rug, fussing them both. “And Grant, you’ve got both eyes and all your legs!”

“Should fahkin' hope so for the amount we paid for the little bastard.” Andy scoffed

"Andrew!" You snorted.

“It’s true!” He chuckled.

You rolled your eyes as he gave you a quick kiss. “I’ve got all his stuff in the trunk, let me unload it and I’ll be with you in five.”

“I’ll give you a hand.” Your dad stood up, and then almost went flat on his face as Grant grabbed the hem of his trousers.

“Jesus Christ… spotted, little dick!” He half yelled, half laughed.

"Dad!" You scooped your puppy back up.

“What?!”

"You'll hurt his feelings!"

Andy gave you an exasperated look at your dad's expense, “he’s a daahg.”

You frowned. And hid Grant from his words. "Don't listen to Daddy. He's new at this."

“Jesus… I’m not…” Andy groaned, hands on his hips. “Whatever.”

"Ignore him, he's rude." You pressed your lips into Grant’s teeny snout.

“Get used to it,” Penny snorted, as Andy looked round the room, utterly perplexed yet highly amused. “she’s just like dad when it comes to animals.”

“You both are.” Your mum laughed. “We had a houseful when you were growing up. Rabbits, guinea pigs, fish, hamsters…”

You looked at Andy with a smile, and his eyes grew big. "No." He deadpaned.

“You don’t-“

“I don’t care, no more!”

“Not even fish?" There was a pause in conversation.

"Negotiable." He snorted and returned to the garage, your dad behind him.

"What about chickens?” You yelled after him. “Free eggs?”

"No!" An echo from both Andy and your father could be heard from the garage behind the door.

"We'll have chickens."

“Like I said,” Penny chuckled as you burried your nose into Grants fur, “spoilt!”

You looked at her, then around your home taking in all the little things you and Andy had added for enjoyment and comfort, before your eyes went back to the puppy in your arms. “Yeah,” you smiled, “yeah, I am.”

🎄🎄🎄🎄