Okay, here we are. Are you comfy, curled on your sofa with chocolate or other sugary things? Worn by Present Hunt? Tired from exams or other mundane worries? Well, if so stay here and read these cheesy-eesy snapshots about our favorite psychos. Let's begin with some good Gules, sounds good? And Merry Christmas, guyz.
Be My Sugar Batman
The PD Christmas party had been cheap bordering on lousy. But McNab's eggnog had been fantastic. Lovely. Irresistible. And the nice part of her family was half-continent away and Carlton was busy trying to understand if he was bi and she still waited for Dad's damn call and so Juliet had just had to gulp down five cups before ten p.m. It turned out eggnog's aftereffects were way worse than college parties', and now all she could do was leaning against the Cold Room doorway and trying her hardest not to throw up.
Oh, it was all so wrong. She was healthy. She was loved. She was a strong woman that looked pretty with a Elf hat. With a Elf hat, for God's sake. She had no right in the world to be miserable. She wasn't nine anymore. No one has forgotten her. She was strong.
She squeezed her eyes, let out a groan. Heard two of them.
-Ehy?-
A voice answered from the other side of the door. -Ehy, Jules.-
-Gus. What are you doing here?-
-Ah, hoping to die I suppose. Too much pudding. You?-
That explained the risen-from-the-grave voice and the sudden crave for sitting by office doorways. Juliet swallowed. -Eggnog.-
-Ah. Tried last year. Not a great night so far, mh?-
-Not great.-
There was a moment of silence. In the hall someone turned on a bad version of "Let it snow" on the karaoke. Carlton was barking over the music, Shawn laughed.
-You know Juliet, that's so unfair. We're nice people, we should never reduce to that. We'd deserve someone to tell us when stopping with sweeties. Someone keeping us wise and healthy. A sort of Sugar Batman.-
She smiled. Her hand slipped a bit on the floor. -Yeah. That would be cool.-
Juliet could breathe a bit better. There was a green smell in the air, like woods and winter, swelling the cool half-dark. She looked up to the archway.
-Oh, the mistletoe. Crap.-
Her hand inched forwards. Gus talked after a second.
-We should kiss.-
-I suppose.-
Three seconds.
-It wouldn't be bad, would it?-
She smiled. Her hand touched other fingers. –-No, it wouldn't.-
They stayed there, and she could just feel him grinning through the jamb. Oh, it was all so sweet. Like early Christmases, when Dad's lies were still beautiful and she was a greedy happy elf. Like things slipping in place. Like eggnog. Oh no.
She pinned back against the door, calculating how many seconds would it take to crawl to the ladies' restroom. -But not now.-
Gus did a ugly sound from his side. -No, not now.-
P.S.: It's a kind of obsession for me, but I always try to show glimpses of Jules's issues in my stories: the need to be the perfect daughter, the strongest, the bravest, the most proper woman in her life, and the Badass pit she doesn't want to admit. And that we deeply love, 'f course.