December 1st - No If's, And's, or But's

"What are you doing here?" Morgan asked in surprise.

After December had started off on such a horrible note, the day had seemed a complete wash-out. By the end of the day, it seemed a toss-up between drowning his gloom in alcohol, hoping to forget, or getting an early start on Christmas preparations in the hopes of cheering himself up.

In the end, he was torn and hadn't been able to decide, but he had been driving home at the time and was stopped at a red light with a little bar on the corner and had just let that make the decision for him.

He had then been quite surprised when, approaching the bar and flagging down the bartender, he had ran into Emily. She was sitting alone in a dark corner of the bar, downing what appeared to be her third or fourth glass of liquor.

She looked up at him as he sat down next to her and attempted to smile, but it was weak and forced, not quite reaching her eyes. Almost immediately, the smile was gone, replaced by sadness. He couldn't help but notice from the slight reddish tint to her eyes and the faint way her make-up was smudged that she had been crying. Not that he could blame her...

She shrugged in reply to his question, not really sure what had lead her there. "I could ask you the same thing," she deflected.

He mirrored her non-committal gesture, but answered nonetheless, "I couldn't decide between starting to get ready for Christmas and getting drunk..."

She pursed her lips together and gave an unlady-like snort before pounding back the rest of her drink and signalling to the bartender for another.

He raised an eyebrow at her response to the mention of Christmas. "What?"

"I just didn't peg you as the 'Christmas spirit' kinda guy..."

Now he was more confused than ever. "Why not?"

"Never mind," she shook her head.

"Well," he said, unfazed, "I love Christmas... My favorite time of year. Can't think of anything I like better."

"Of course," she said under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"Are you seriously telling me you don't like Christmas?" he asked as if she had just uttered serious blasphemy.

"No," she said, attempting an air of finality.

"Come on," he pressed, not about to let her get away that easily, "No one hates Christmas... What don't you like about it?"

"What's there to like?" she deadpanned, "It doesn't mean anything, it's just another day with a little more hype, a little more craziness..." She sighed. "And considering what we learned today, I can't see how you can possibly be thinking about this month being anything besides gloomy..."

He frowned. "All the more reason to make an extra effort to be cheerful."

She rolled her eyes again. "Forgive me for being Scrooge, but I just don't see that happening. Now or ever."

He knew that there had to be more to the story than just what she was telling him, there was something more behind why she didn't like Christmas. And he was determined to find out what it was. Because he just couldn't stand to see her so upset. Notwithstanding the fact that he was madly in love with her and wanted nothing more than for her to happy, preferably in his arms.

This seemed like the perfect chance to make that happen... And, if not, she was his best friend and he couldn't just let her be so jaded about the happiest time of the year.

"I don't accept that," he said resolutely.

She scoffed, a little surprised, "You don't accept that? I don't really think that's something..." She stopped talking suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath of surprise, as he placed a hand on her knee and swivelled her bar stool around so she was looking him in the eye.

He hadn't noticed when he placed his hand on her knee, having done it reflexively, but noticing the way she immediately froze up at his touch, he quickly pulled his hand away as if burned. "I'm going to make you like Christmas. No if's, and's, or but's." He couldn't help but want to put his hand back on her leg...and other places. He immediately had to squash down such dangerous thoughts, reminding himself that right now she was just his friend and such thoughts would almost definitely get him in trouble.

She raised an eyebrow challengingly, "And just how do you plan on doing that?"

"It's a surprise," he said quickly to disguise the fact that, at this point, he had no idea whatsoever how he would manage that. "But I guarantee that you'll never look at Christmas the same again."

"You're on," she smirked, once again draining her drink.

He snatched her keys from her hand. "Come on, I'm driving you home; this is no way to spend the first day of December."

For a second, she looked as if she were about to press the matter, but after several seconds of silence in which she opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, she just sighed and relented, "Okay."

She moved to slide off her seat to stand, but was off-balance the second her feet hit the floor. "Whoa..." he said, quickly moving to her side to steady her.

"I guess I had a little more to drink than I thought," she said.

"Just a little..." As he slung her arm over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, he felt a little tug at his heart-strings, wishing more than anything that he could hold her close more often.