A/N: So, exactly what happened to our Mr. Carson and Ms. Hughes after 'Ringtones'? This story is respectfully submitted in response to the Mistletoe Challenge. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: ITV and Mr. Fellowes may own them but it was my idea to make the time jumps happening in Series 2 leap our favorite crew all the way to the 21st century! ;-)
CHRISTMAS RINGTONES
Chapter 1 - Santa Baby by Eartha Kitt
Twas the night before Christmas and Charles Carson was still in his office going over contracts and addendums. It was no use going home because she wouldn't be there. She had a crucial contract meeting in Glasgow this morning with the distillers and there was usually a long dinner with lots of drinking afterwards so they decided together that she would stay over until the day after Christmas and fly back to London when the holiday madness would be over.
Still, it didn't keep him from missing her. He poured himself a brandy from the bottle that he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk and leaned back in his office chair with a deep sigh. His mind wandered back to that day, just over a year ago, when they'd first gotten together.
It was the 'paint party' in his new townhouse when his business partner, Ms. Elsie Hughes, organized a group of young people from the office to come over and paint the interior for him. It was the first time he'd really interacted with her outside of the office but it wasn't long before he'd fallen head over heels for her. He was ready to thank fate, or whatever set of circumstances had brought the two of them together later that evening, but he found out soon afterwards that she'd planned the whole encounter. He'd sent them down to the corner pub for dinner and a round of drinks on his account to say thanks when they'd finished the job; little did he know that she'd handed them her company credit card and sent them on to the discos in downtown London so that she could return to his townhouse with Chinese take-away and a bottle of wine. The rest, as they say, is history.
He still didn't know exactly what it was that she saw in a bumbling old company man like himself. She of the quick wit, sharp tongue and even sharper negotiating skills; she dressed smartly, was up on all the latest gadgets and electronics and could even keep pace with the kids on the dance floor. He couldn't figure out why she wanted him but she did want him, just as badly as he wanted her, and that was all that mattered.
He fingered the small ring box from Tiffany's sitting on his desk. He had been so looking forward to giving her the ring on Christmas Eve. They'd never talked of marriage and it wasn't really an engagement ring but to him, a ring signified a commitment and he wanted her to know that he was committed to their relationship…committed to her. He had looked at the solitaires in the jewelers case but he remembered her saying that she didn't like anything that was too high profile or flashy. So he had opted for a platinum band with three channel set blue sapphires, elegant but low key.
Suddenly, the lights flashed several times as if the electricity were about to go out. He stood and walked over to the plate glass windows and looked out at the winter storm. He could see several pockets of the neighborhood streets were without power. As the storm had gained in intensity, he had been glad that she was going to be staying over a few extra days.
He looked at his watch and frowned when he saw that it was almost six o'clock. They had exchanged several texts this morning and she thought they would be done around four o'clock this afternoon and well on their way to a 'good drunk' by six o'clock. She promised to call him before they went to dinner. He reached across his desk to check his cell phone for any missed calls…none. She'd finally taught him how to program his speed dial and so he keyed in her code and hit the call button and heard the voice of an automated operator…the cellphone you are trying to reach is out of service, please try your call later.
"Blast!" he roared.
William Mason was walking past his office just then and stuck his head round the door, "Something wrong, Mr. Carson?"
"No, Mr. Mason," he said shaking his head. "I was just trying to phone Ms. Hughes to see how her negotiations were going and I get the damned operator telling me there's a problem and I should try my call later."
"It's probably 'cause of the storm, Mr. Carson. We're headed down to the pub for a Christmas pint…" William trailed off in invitation.
"Thank you, Mr. Ma…William," he said with a tight smile, "I appreciate the invitation but I think I may just clean up here and go home. You take care of Miss Daisy in this storm and I wish you both a Happy Christmas."
"Thanks…you too, Mr. Carson," William said as he waved and disappeared down the hallway.
Charles opened his briefcase on top of his desk and started to put the contracts that he'd been reading into it. It would give him something to do over Christmas Day. He glanced down as he reached across to switch off his desk lamp and his eyes lighted on his desk phone…what did Mr. Mason call it?...oh yes, his 'landline.'
"Idiot!" he muttered under his breath as he picked up the landline. Why didn't he think of it earlier, he berated himself. He pulled the fuschia colored sticky note that she'd fastened to his calendar with the contact information for the office in Glasgow and punched in the numbers. Soon a very young female voice came on the line.
"Good evening, Clunes Distillers, this is Alice, how may I assist you?"
"Good evening, Alice," he began with his deepest most resonant voice, "This is Mr. Carson at Grantham, Crawley and Sons, I would like to speak with Ms. Hughes if she is available."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Carson," came Alice's voice sounding a bit like she was in a cave. "Ms. Hughes returned to London early this afternoon."
"She returned to….I don't understand," he barked into the phone.
"Yes, sir, the meeting finished at noon today and she left with Mr. Barrow and Ms. O'Brien at one o'clock. They rented a car and said they were going to drive back to London ahead of the storm."
"I see, thank you Alice…and Happy Christmas to you," he said and hung up the telephone.
Alright, she's on her way home. It's about 650 kilometers from Glasgow to London and under normal conditions it would usually take six and a half to seven hours to make the trip. With this weather it will likely add another hour or two at least so…that means they're due in around nine or ten o'clock...
"Hmm…if I make a couple of stops on the way home…" he muttered to himself. He took one look at his watch, grabbed his briefcase and strode out his office door. He was almost to the elevator when he ground out, "Blast!" He marched back to his desk and reached out to pick up the Tiffany box. He tossed it in the air and grabbed it on its way back down before pocketing it with a smug smile and turning back towards the elevators.
-o O o-
Getting around London was no easy task as the snow fall became very heavy. Traffic was snarled everywhere and even the Underground was experiencing delays due to the weather. As much as he wanted her home with him, he wanted her safe and in one piece so he kept up a silent mantra that he hoped would make its way to Thomas Barrow and remind him to drive safely…otherwise he would have one very irate Charles Carson to deal with.
Charles finally let himself into the townhouse just as the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed nine o'clock. She could be home anytime now so he put the take-away in the oven on a low temperature and made his way into the living room to make his preparations.
An hour later he was lighting the last of the candles and setting the wine on the hearthstone to breathe and warm by the fire. He glanced at his watch…right on schedule, he thought to himself and headed up the stairs to change out of his suit. He came back down the stairs dressed in a pair of khaki Dockers with a hunter green turtleneck on, both of which she'd given him for his birthday. She said that she liked the way they 'hugged his bum'. He'd taken a shower while he was upstairs and still had the towel draped over his head as he loped down the stairs calling out her name.
"Elsie, is that you?"
He wandered through the townhouse and found the source of the noise that he thought might have been her coming in; it was the tree outside the dining room window tapping against the glass. He looked at his watch again, ten-thirty…anytime now. He thought about pouring himself a glass of wine but it was the last bottle of her favorite, the 1940 Chateau Talbot, and he wanted to save it for her. He poured himself a brandy instead and walked over to turn on the computer and start the internet radio.
He stood in front of the desk as he remembered the weekend she had come over to help him set the whole thing up. It had taken them almost four hours to finish the job. Of course, most of that time was spent dressing and undressing each other and at one point, they almost knocked the monitor off when he bent her over the desk to make love to her. A smile ghosted across his face as the grandfather clock began to chime…it was midnight and he was beginning to get worried.
He walked over to the breakfast bar where he had deposited his briefcase, keys and cell phone. He tried her speed dial code again and still the call would not go through. He began to pace back and forth around the room. An hour later he was fit to be tied. He threw his cell phone across the room when he heard the automated voice for what felt to be the millionth time. He scratched the back of his head as was his custom when he was angry or upset and was about to grab his coat and hat when he realized that he had no idea where she was and he didn't want her to come home to an empty house.
"Where is she?" he asked aloud to whatever gods or deities might be listening. "Please keep her safe," his voice cracked with pent up emotion.
'DING-DONG'
The doorbell rang through the townhouse as though it was the big church bell in the steeple down the road.
Charles stood there dumbfounded for several long moments before he thundered to the front door and threw it open, ready to annihilate the poor soul who dared to ring his bell when he was waiting for…HER!
He couldn't believe his eyes…standing on his front step, covered in snow, teeth chattering and tears streaming down her face was Elsie Hughes.
"My god! Elsie, what happened?" he exclaimed as he took her by the shoulders and ushered her into the house. He brushed his hands quickly through her hair to get rid of the snow and unbuttoned her coat and pushed it off her shoulders and onto the floor.
"Ch-Ch-Charles, your floors!" she sobbed through her chattering teeth.
"I don't give a damn about the floors!" he yelled, taking her in his arms so that he could be sure that it was really her standing in front of him.
Her arms slowly went around his waist and soon she was clinging to him as she buried her face and sobbed into his chest. He felt her pull up the back of his sweater and he tensed slightly, waiting for her to tuck her hands into the waistband of his trousers as was her custom when her hands were cold. What he felt were two blocks of ice with ten little icicles causing him to jump.
"Elsie, you're freezing!" he said looking down as she turned her face up to him. All she could do was nod in agreement. "Come, let's get you in front of the fireplace," he said hurriedly as he led her into the living room and sat her down on a cushion on the floor.
He grabbed one of the quilts that he had stacked nearby and sat down behind her. He pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his legs around her and then covered them both with the quilt. They must have sat there for close to an hour before the shivering and the hiccoughing finally subsided. He could feel that her body had begun to warm up a bit but was afraid to move away from her.
"Elsie, love, are you awake?" he whispered not wanting to disturb her if she was asleep. He felt her head nodding against his chest. "How about I make us a cup of tea?" Again he could feel her head nod against his chest. He nudged her forward so that he could kneel behind her as he tucked the quilt back in around her.
"I'll just go and put the kettle on and be back in a second," he said kissing her on the forehead. He walked into the kitchen, filled the kettle and turned it on. He had already set up the tea tray in anticipation of their usual 'after-sex cuppa' but switched out their regular tea for an herbal variety. He thought he remembered reading somewhere that caffeine wasn't good for patients suffering from hypothermia. He suffered a moment of panic as he wondered if perhaps he should have tried to get her to a hospital but decided that since she was conscious and responding to his questions…albeit without words…that she probably wasn't truly hypothermic, just very, very cold.
He looked out at her through the breakfast bar and watched for a moment while she stared into the fire. He saw her reach down and pull the quilt away from her feet and proceed to unzip her snow boots and take them off.
"Thank god, she was wearing her boots," he thought to himself. Socks! She loved to wear an old pair of his woolly socks instead of slippers when she stayed with him. He took the stairs two at a time up to the bedroom and came down moments later with the flannel pyjamas he'd gotten her for Valentine's day from Victoria's Secret and her favorite pair of his woolly socks. Just then the kettle whistled so he wet the tea and managed to get the tea tray and the socks out to the living room.
He set the tray on the hearthstone next to the wine bottle and turned to give her the socks.
"I brought these down for you," he said quietly handing them to her.
"My favorite," she said smiling shyly up at him, "Thank you."
"Do you need some help?" he asked with a concerned look on his face.
"No, I think I can manage," she said bending down to lift the quilt away from her feet.
"I brought your flannel pyjamas down too, they're in the kitchen," he said shifting to his hands and knees in an effort to get up off the floor.
"Not yet," she told him placing her hand on his arm, "I'd kill for a cup of tea at the moment." She pulled her arms out from under the quilt and tucked it more firmly around her waist and legs and then turned to take the cup from him.
"What is this muck?" she asked him looking down into her teacup.
"I think its chamomile and lemongrass," he said picking up the honey pot to sweeten her tea. He glanced up and caught her glaring at him. "I remembered reading that caffeinated beverages were not recommended for patients suffering from hypothermia. Now, do you want some honey for your tea?"
"No, thank you," she glowered at him over the rim of her cup. "Oh, you're probably right," she finally said with a deep sigh, "it feels good to drink something warm. Could I have just a little honey, please?" She smiled at him hopefully.
"Since you asked nicely," he responded dropping a dollop of honey into her cup. They both laughed.
"I'm so glad to hear you sounding more like yourself, sweetheart," he said with relief. "When I saw you standing on the doorstep, covered in snow, I really panicked."
"I'm sorry, Charles," she said meekly hanging her head. "I wanted to surprise you and we really thought we could beat the storm home but we hadn't counted on the traffic in some of the smaller villages and the storm caught up to us before we even realized."
"Why didn't you stop somewhere and spend the night?"
"We did stop a couple of times but most places were full because of the holiday," she began, "Besides, Sarah and Thomas wanted to get home to their families as well so we just kept moving."
"Thomas couldn't have dropped you off in front of the townhouse," he started, "you were covered in several inches of snow, what happened?"
"Thomas tried, he really did," she said responding to the skeptical look on his face. "The roads weren't plowed and so the closest he could get was five blocks away. Then I had to walk through the drifts because nobody's been out to shovel their walkways yet."
"Hmph! Well, remind me to thank Thomas when we're back in the office next week," he grumbled.
Elsie just smiled into her teacup as she began to notice her surroundings. She saw that he'd pushed back all the furniture and laid out blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace. She looked up and saw the candles that had burned so low that most of them were threatening to gutter out. She leaned forward to put her teacup back on the tray and noticed the wine bottle and glasses on the hearthstone. She looked over at Charles who was suddenly studying the pattern in the bottom of his teacup.
"Charles? What's going on?" she asked waving her hand around the room with a flourish.
"If you must know," he said with a hint of sarcasm and went on to tell about his conversation with Alice, the receptionist. "…and so I thought that I would surprise you. I stopped and picked up Chinese…oh god! It's still in the oven." He jumped up and ran into the kitchen.
"It's still good, are you hungry?" he called out from the kitchen.
"Yes, please…and bring out those pyjamas you brought down."
He noticed through the opening in the breakfast bar that the electric lights in the living room went out and the lights of the Christmas tree turned on. He finished putting the boxes on the dinner tray and reached over to fish her chopsticks out of the side drawer. He gripped the pyjamas under his arm, turned out the lights in the kitchen and made his way back out to the living room.
He found her standing in front of the Christmas tree with the quilt wrapped around her. He set the tray down in the middle of the blanket on the floor and handed her the pyjamas. He turned to place another log on the fire and was just closing the screen when he saw the dress she had been wearing hit the floor near the doorway. When he turned around, she was standing there in front of the tree wearing only her underwear and his woolly socks. His hungry eyes took in every shadow and every curve until his gaze rose to meet her triumphant smile. Her triumph was short lived when a wicked grin started to spread across his face.
"What?" she questioned him as he watched her plant her small fists on those oh, so womanly hips.
"When did you start shopping at Marks and Sparks?" he laughed.
"How did you know?" she pouted crossing her arms which only increased her cleavage much to his delight.
He stood in front of her and slowly undid the fastenings on his trousers and lowered them to his ankles to show her the Christmas tartan boxers he was wearing that were an exact match to her tartan bra and bikinis. She stared at his undershorts for a moment and they both burst out laughing. He stepped out of his trousers and tossed them over to join her dress on the floor.
She walked over to him and he took her in his arms as she stepped up to stand on the tops of his feet to kiss him. She snaked her arms around his neck and started to ruck his sweater up around his shoulders in an effort to remove it. He grunted and reached up to pull the sweater over his head and send it across the room with the other articles of clothing.
His hands returned to roam over her bare skin as he kissed and nibbled her neck and shoulder. He started to suck gently on the swell of her breast when he noticed a small sprig of mistletoe sewn into the bottom of the cleavage on her bra. He quirked an eyebrow as he raised his head to look at her.
"I was hoping that I'd get lucky and you'd kiss me under the mistletoe," she said innocently trying but failing to keep a neutral look on her face. He cocked his head to one side with a small smirk and then lowered himself to his knees in front of her.
"Hmmm…under the mistletoe, you say?" he asked as he studied the sprig. He leaned in to kiss her midriff just below the band on her bra. He swirled his tongue over her skin and sucked lightly before breaking the kiss to look up at her. He saw her eyes darken with desire as she shook her head 'no.'
He quirked his eyebrow just a bit higher as he asked, "Lower?" He then kissed and tickled her navel with his tongue before looking up at her again.
This time he raised both eyebrows, "Lower still?" A grin spread across his face as he spied the sprig sewn into the waistband of her bikinis. "Aaah...more mistletoe," he said seductively. He placed his hands on the outsides of her thighs and pulled her closer as he kissed her center. He felt a small shudder pass through her as he mouthed her through her bikinis and when her legs began to quiver, he pulled back and eased her down onto the floor in front of the fireplace.
He buried his nose in her cleavage as he reached around to unfasten her bra which he tossed in the general direction of the doorway with their other clothes. He kissed and suckled her right breast while his thumb and fingers played over her left. It wasn't long before her back was arching and she was running her fingers through his hair. He left a trail of wet kisses down her stomach with forays to nip on her hip bones when he encountered the second sprig of mistletoe again. He kissed her through her bikinis and her hips lifted towards him in response. He looked up between her knees and saw that her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted.
He had considered teasing her about kissing him under the mistletoe sewn to the waistband of his boxer shorts but with everything that she'd been through, he decided that tonight would be dedicated to her and so he reached out and rolled her bikinis slowly down her legs as he followed his hands with light kisses and flicks of his tongue. He began working his way back up her legs, massaging her feet and then her calves as he went.
"Charles," he heard her voice above him, "if you don't get back up here soon…"
"Patience, my dear," he chuckled as he nipped at her thigh and then shifted himself up, positioning her knees over his shoulders as he leaned in to kiss her center. She writhed beneath him and he placed one hand on her stomach to soothe her and hold her still.
He used his tongue first to one side and then the other as he had learned would bring her great pleasure. She had always been confident in her lovemaking and very vocal…not just in the ways that she expressed the pleasure that he brought to her but also in teaching him what she liked and didn't like. He was the one who still had trouble expressing himself in the bedroom, but she had been kind and patient and he was learning how sharing those intimacies could bring great joy to their relationship.
He heard her begin to whimper and felt her shift her feet just a bit – back and forth – the first signs that she was beginning to 'wind up' as she liked to call it. He began alternating the strokes with soothing swirls of his tongue. He also inserted first one finger which he soon followed with a second and before long, the rhythm of her hips came to match. He enjoyed making love to her in this manner because he could watch her expressions and feel the way her body would shift and move based on what he was doing for her. He still had trouble truly abandoning himself to the feelings when she would return the favor. Whenever she felt that he was holding back, she would stop what she was doing to tease him about being a 'cold fish' and then he would have to tell at least one aspect of what she was doing for him that he enjoyed before she would continue. It near drove him mad with desire at times but he was learning a lot about himself in the process.
Aaah…there it was. She took hold of his wrist across her stomach with both hands, she was getting very close now. He changed the rhythm of his tongue again, to alternate swirls with small flitting motions. She had recently read an article in a women's journal about the controversial 'G-spot' and they joked about spending a weekend trying to find it. Afterwards, he decided to try a few variations and soon found a particular spot that seemed to result in greater pleasure for her as evidence by her reactions as she tumbled over the edge. If he crooked his fingers just so and shifted just a bit to the right…
"Charles!" she called out and soon her entire body was trembling around him.
He continued his attentions for a few moments more until her trembling began to subside and she released her grip on his wrist to reach down and stroke her fingers through his hair. He smiled to himself as she continued to murmur his name. He kissed his way back up her torso and rolled over on his side drawing her to him. He murmured sweet nothings in her ear as she continued to float on the last faint waves of her pleasure. He rubbed her back with soft even strokes until he felt that last pop of tension leave her body as she fell asleep on his chest. He pulled the quilt over them and snuggled down and was soon snoring softly by her side.
-o O o-
…Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!
"Dammit, Elsie! Turn that bloody thing off!" he bellowed from the floor in front of the fireplace.
"For your information, it's not mine…and I can't find it anywhere," she yelled back at him.
Charles sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes to find her standing by the breakfast bar, wrapped in the quilt and looking into his briefcase.
"What are you doing?"
"Your cell phone went off and I thought perhaps you had put it in your briefcase, but I can't find it," she said with a hint of sarcasm.
"It should be there on the breakfast bar with my keys," he said standing to walk over to her.
"Very sexy," she said with a smirk as she eyed his tartan boxer shorts.
"You thought they were funny last night," he said seductively, drawing her into his arms for a kiss.
"They're still funny," she laughed as she reached up and pushed several of his dark curls behind his ear. "You didn't blow dry your hair?"
"You told me you thought it was sexy when I left it curly," he said as he nuzzled the side of her neck.
"Mmm…I do," she murmured as she melted against his chest. "Speaking of sexy…who did you assign the sexy Ms. Eartha Kitt to?"
"Hmm?" he said concentrating on leaving her with a Christmas hickey behind her left ear.
"Your ringtone, 'Santa Baby', I hope that's not assigned to your other girlfriend," she said with a playful pout.
"Of course not," he said smiling down at her, "you're the only sexy woman that I want calling me 'Santa Baby'…oh, god! That was your cell phone calling my cell phone!" He let her go suddenly and started turning in circles, "What was I doing last night? Oh yes, I tried you on the speed dial for the umpteenth time and that blasted operator…I threw the cell phone across the room!" He ran over towards the desk and spied his cell phone lying on the carpet under the window. He bent to pick it up just as it began to play 'Santa Baby' again.
"Hello, this is Charles Carson," he said into the phone.
"Aaah…Mr. Barrow…."
"Yes, she's here with me," he said in a somewhat serious tone, "Would you like to speak with her?" Charles shook his head and motioned her away when she stepped up and reached to take the phone from him.
"Yes?...her purse, her briefcase and her suitcase…yes, we'll be by to pick them up tomorrow," Charles listened as he stared at the Christmas tree. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. "Mr. Barrow, when we hang up the phone, could you wait two minutes and then call back and leave the address on my voicemail?"
"Yes, two full minutes…and Mr. Barrow…Thomas…..Thank you..." he finally said, his voice hoarse and cracking with emotion. "…Happy Christmas to you, too, Thomas."
Charles hit the end call button and strode over to where she stood by his briefcase. He took her by the hand and led her over to the Christmas tree and knelt down on the floor. He tugged at her hand and tried to guide her around to kneel and face him.
"Charles what are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.
"Humor an old man?"
She heaved a deep sigh and turned to join him on the floor. He set his cell phone down on the floor between them, took both of her hands in his and leaned over to kiss her. He could feel her trying to turn her head to look at the Christmas tree during the kiss.
"What are you doing?" he asked when he finally broke the kiss.
"Looking for the mistletoe," she answered with a small snort. His cell began to vibrate on floor and then Ms. Kitt began to sing…
Come and trim my Christmas tree with some decorations bought at Tiffany's
I really do believe in you, let's see if you believe in me
Charles reached up just beside her cheek and pushed one of the branches of the Christmas tree down so that she could see the small box from Tiffany's that he'd hidden there. Her eyes grew wide in surprise.
Santa Baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring.
I don't mean on the phone, Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!
"Charles!" she gasped as she put her hands to her cheeks, "I…I don't know what to say…"
"Don't say anything," he said a little worried at her hesitation, "it might not be exactly what you think it is."
She reached out with a shaky hand and took the box from the tree. She looked over at him from under a quirked eyebrow as she slowly pulled the ribbon off and opened the lid. When she looked down into the box, her eyes welled up with tears.
"Oh, Charles," she whispered, "it's beautiful!" She tried to pick the ring up but her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't keep hold of it. Charles reached over and took the box from her. He slipped the ring out and then gently took her left hand in his and slipped the platinum band onto her third finger.
"Elsie, I know that we've never talked about marriage but we have talked about what it means to be in a committed relationship and I bought this ring as symbol of my commitment to our relationship…of my commitment to you." He leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss. "And I learned something last night…when I didn't know where you were or if I would ever see you again…Elsie, I love you with all my heart and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you want to turn that ring into a wedding band, you would make me the happiest man on earth."
Charles suddenly found himself flat on his back with both arms full of Scottish negotiator. She'd launched herself at him and was now trying to kiss him senseless.
"May I take that as a 'yes'?" he chuckled when they finally broke apart. She sat up straddling his hips having lost the quilt during her 'launch' and nodded her head vigorously.
Suddenly a frown crossed her face and she looked near to tears again.
"What's the matter now? Haven't change your mind already, have you?" he asked trying to tease her.
"No, Charles, it's your Christmas present," she said sadly, "It's in my suitcase."
"Don't look so sad, we'll get it tomorrow," he said as a wicked grin began to spread across his face. "And in the meantime, I'll just collect my kiss under the mistletoe." He reached down and snapped the elastic of his Christmas tartan boxers where the sprig of mistletoe was sewed into the waistband.
The End – Happy Christmas!
A/N2: In case you were wondering, the plot criteria chosen for this challenge entry were: Singing – drunken or otherwise (provided by Ms. Eartha Kitt), Christmas hickey, Tartan underclothing…and I was hoping for a little extra credit for 'creative kissing under the mistletoe'.
A/N3: Okay, so I lied…it's not the end. A wonderful friend of mine read this and asked the question…what about Elsie? How has she changed since she's been in this relationship? And so the seeds for a look at the story from Elsie's point of view were born. I promise it won't be re-hash of the same points here but I am writing a second chapter to this story…in direct violation of the Mistletoe Challenge rules…but I hope you will like it anyway.