A/N: Written at some ridiculous late time of the night a week or so ago. Originally, it was supposed to have twenty-five chapters/mini fics as a way of counting down until Christmas but I sort of forgot about it so it's now going to have twenty chapters. There should be one a day and I'm going to try my hardest to stick to it. This is all (hopefully) going to be quite light and fluffy, I think I've done enough angst recently. This fic ignores the fact the riots happened by the way. Any suggestions for other festive scenarios are most welcome, just drop me a PM or a review.
Disclaimer: Casualty belongs to the BBC. No copyright infringement intended.
For Checky because I keep promising an update of Twenty-Four Seven and that hasn't happened yet. Probably going to be a few more days but I will get there.
1: Christmas Cards
Yvonne
"Yvonne?"
What now? It's stupidly early, I know this because I dared to venture from underneath the duvet about half an hour ago and it was dark. Very likely that it still is. No sane person with a day off would get up this early when it's this cold but Nick appears to have other ideas. And he sounds overly cheerful; how can one man be this happy this early in the morning? It's cold...no, it's freezing, dark and there's only twenty days until I'm landed in hell. Or Christmas, apparently that's the preferable name for it.
"Yvonne!"
Ugh, he's doing it again; standing at the bottom of the stairs and shouting up them when he could just come up said stairs and have a conversation at a normal level – note to self, must talk to him about that, it is becoming increasingly irritating. Surprised he hasn't got permanent sore throat. Anyway, if he wants some sort of an answer to whatever it is that apparently needs urgent attention this time in the morning on my day off then he'll have to come up and speak normally. Not budging.
Hmm, not quite sure how long he stood at the bottom of the stairs but eventually, he seems to get the message and comes up the stairs. Think he's finally realised that I'm not getting out of bed, not yet anyway. It's funny, we're just as stubborn as each other; neither of us will back down which can lead to some spectacular clashes particularly at work but once we've calmed down, we tend to come through it okay which is most definitely a good thing.
Doesn't sound like he's in a particularly good mood now. Oops. It doesn't matter, maybe if I just smile at him and promise to cook him dinner tonight or something, he'll snap out of it pretty quickly. Do feel a little bit guilty. Only a little, mind. Realised that I still don't know what is so important that we need to deal with it now.
"Christmas cards."
Ok, definitely wasn't expecting that. His first words as he comes through the door are about Christmas. Or the impending doom as I like to call it. Fun. There is still twenty days to go you know, not that I'm counting or anything. It's meant to be a time for family, right? Well I've lived without my family for so long that now I just don't bother with things like that. It's pointless me celebrating or rather, it used to be. I used to work through Christmas, it was much easier for me to avoid it all that way but this year is different, this year I've actually booked it off. Why? Because of Nick. He's my family now and if he likes Christmas then I suppose I'll have to shut up and put up with it. I just want him to be happy and honestly, I'd do anything for him - except wear one of those ridiculous jumpers. That just won't happen, no matter how hard he tries.
"Christmas cards?"
Am confused.
"Yes."
Well that's clear. As mud.
Right, deep breath. Count to ten and try to figure out what on earth he's going on about.
"What about them?"
I'm tired, Nick's puzzling me and I just want to go back to sleep. I didn't even know anyone still wrote Christmas cards, just shows how out of touch I am. It's been years since I sent one, I just text Jen on Christmas morning, is much easier and a lot cheaper. Plus there's more room for manoeuvre if I forget – has happened before.
"We need to write them."
Oh god. Worst idea ever. Who to? Nick sees all of the people that he would probably give one to most days (or most weeks in his mother's case) as do I so why do we need to write them? Never figured that one out. Surely it's easier to just say it. More personalised and after all, it's the thought that counts.
"What, now?"
Judging by that look in his eyes – sometimes isn't so good that I know him so well – it seems that yes, it's of utmost importance that we write them now. Feel like acting like small child and just asking 'why?' but probably won't go down too well. Does it even matter if we write them now or later? No-one's going to know when we wrote them, are they? Why do we even need to write them at all. Being grumpy now, should probably lighten up.
A nod. Verbal answer in three, two, one. And I still don't like it.
"Now."
Going back to sleep isn't going to happen, is it? Still have one more thing to try though. So cue a big, deep, melodramatic sigh followed by a massive yawn. If that doesn't make him feel even the tiniest bit guilty or change his mind about having to write stupid cards now then he has a heart of stone.
"Come on. Don't look at me like that, the quicker we get them done, the quicker you can go back to bed."
Said with tiniest hint of smile on his face. Still not sure why so much fuss is being made over these cards. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I'm working from tomorrow until my leave starts, will definitely be avoiding anything to do with the impending doom until then. Oh. Penny drops. That would be why he's insisting on doing them today. Sneaky Nick. He knows me better than I thought.
"Come on."
Ooh, tone has turned rather wheedly. Is ever-so-slightly cute at the moment especially when paired with that look on his face but suspect that it could grate on me after a while. Think that if I wasn't so pre-occupied by the thought of going back to bed and of course work tomorrow, I probably would have thrown a pillow in his direction because of that annoyingly patronising tone. Don't think he realises he does it.
Ten minutes later, still haven't moved. He looks distinctly unimpressed. But then he gets tactical and delivers the killer blow, so to speak. The coffee. Enticing me with coffee, is ever so slightly underhand – he knows that I could never resist coffee, nor could he for that matter. Now we sound like a couple of caffeine addicts. Great.
"I'll make you coffee if you get out of bed in the next five minutes."
Annoyingly patronising/wheedly tone almost gone. Suppose I should give into him now, think I've been mean enough this morning. Pretty sure that he means 'I'll put the kettle on and then you'll come and make coffee'. Always happens, think I make better coffee. Just kidding. But could be worth it if he actually makes the coffee this time.
Given in. Next however long is due to be spent writing silly messages in overly cute cards. Not my idea of fun but I guess that there could be worse ways to spend some time with him. Love that we are spending time together though even if we do have cards to write. Suppose it could be ever so slightly interesting. Maybe.
