I let out a sigh and press the phone between my ear and my shoulder, grabbing one of the throw blankets from the foot of the bed and pulling it over my lap. "I'm fine, Mom, I promise. You don't have to keep asking."
"Are you sure? Because I'll go to the airport and get a ticket right now—"
"No!" I exclaim, cringing at how it comes out. "It's okay. I'm okay. It's after eight on Christmas Eve; you'd never get a flight anyway."
She scoffs in my ear. "If my baby needs me, there's nothing that could stop me from getting to her."
I can't help but grin at that. "I appreciate the sentiment, Mom, but I promise you I'm all right. I'm just going to curl up and watch a movie and probably fall asleep before it's over."
"That doesn't sound like a fun way to spend Christmas Eve, Donna," she tells me, her voice full of doubt.
"I promise you, it'll be a lot more fun than a few other Christmas Eves I've had. Besides, isn't this the way most people spend the night before Christmas?"
"I guess," she answers reluctantly.
"See? I'll be fine. Like I said—" My phone beeps in my ear and I pause midsentence, looking to see who's calling. I deflate a little when I see it's only CJ. "Mom, I've got another call coming in. I'll talk to you tomorrow, all right?"
She pauses for a long few moments, and I know she's still debating if she should find a way to get to DC by tomorrow morning. "All right," she relents. "I love you, sweetheart. And Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Mom. I love you, and tell Dad I love him, too." I rush to answer the other line before it can go to voicemail. "Hi, CJ."
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas," she croons in my ear. "It may be your last. Next year we may all be living in the past."
"That's uplifting," I answer, rolling my eyes. "Thank you for that gift."
"Well, 'tis the season after all, and I'm a very giving person."
"Well, ho ho ho to you, too. What's up?"
"Nothing, I just wanted to wish you and yours a very happy holiday. We haven't had a chance to talk in a couple of weeks and this seemed like a good moment. Plus, it gives me a break from toddler patrol."
I chuckle at that. "How is Danny, by the way?"
"Ha ha ha," she answers dryly.
"Is Henry amped up for Christmas? I know it's not his first one but he wasn't exactly aware of it last year."
"You can say it," she says. "This time last year, he resembled a sack of drooling potatoes."
"But an adorable sack of drooling potatoes," I answer with a laugh.
"Yes, that's a given. He's excited for the lights right now, mostly, and the empty wrapping paper tubes. We haven't put any presents out because…well, he's a little hoodlum. He wouldn't care about what's inside the packages, but tearing the paper to shreds would be right in his wheelhouse."
"Ah, the joys of parenthood," I answer sarcastically.
"Mock all you want, you know this is your future at some point. Yes, he's a bit of a monster right now, but he's supposed to be. He's learning and exploring and creating chaos and he's a pretty cool little guy on the whole. The part I like right now is that, even though he's really into all the shiny stuff happening, he cares not at all that today's Christmas Eve. We could celebrate the holiday a week from now and it wouldn't matter to him."
I grin at the sound absolute love and adoration dripping from CJ's voice. I know for the past fifteen months or so, she's been exhausted in a way she'd never experienced before—her words—but she and Danny love their son with every fiber of their beings. "So…when can we expect baby number two?"
CJ barks out a laugh so loud that I have to pull the phone away from my ear for a few moments. "That's a hard pass from me, my friend. One is enough. Danny's in agreement. We love our kid, but he's enough. We haven't ruled out the option of adopting or fostering at some point, but taking care of one toddler is all we're willing to take on right now."
"Yeah, fair enough."
"What about you? When are you and Josh going to start procreating?"
"Ugh. You sound like my mother. And his mother. That's all they want to know. Because we've been married for almost a year we somehow owe our parents grandchildren."
"I thought you and Josh wanted to have kids."
"We do. We haven't talked about it much, but we do want them at some point. To hear our mothers talk about it, though, I practically should have been giving birth when we got back from our honeymoon." CJ snorts but says nothing. "We'll get there at some point, but since the reelection campaign is kicking into high gear as soon as the New Year hits, I doubt it'll be soon."
"You two are actually going on the trail again?" She asks dubiously, somehow sounding exhausted at just the thought of it.
"Not much, I don't think. Josh'll be busier at work with the President gone so much, though. Helen doesn't plan to be out there nearly as much as she was the first time, but there will still be a lot of campaigning to do from here, and my role in the whole thing will be different this time around. We'll be home more, but we'll still be busy."
"No doubt. So sorry I'm missing out on it this time around."
"Yeah, you sound like it. I'm sure those balmy, southern California temperatures you're suffering with really make you miss the frigid wind tunnel that is the city right now, too."
"Oh, yes. December in Santa Monica is the absolute worst," she deadpans. "Anyway, put your husband on the phone too so I can antagonize him."
I wince a little. "He's not here right now."
"He's not? Late night at the office? I thought President Santos was usually pretty adamant about work/life balance. I would have figured he would insist everyone go home early on Christmas Eve."
"Well, he is and he does, but Josh is out of town right now."
There's a long pause on the other end of the line. "What? Why?"
"He got stuck on a work trip."
"On Christmas Eve? Doesn't the President know it's your first Christmas as a married couple? Doesn't Josh for that matter?"
"No, he—" I let out a sigh; I just recapped this story for my mother. "He left last Friday on the eighteenth and was supposed to be back by the twenty second. Actually, the President was supposed to go on this trip but Josh being Josh volunteered to go instead. He didn't want the President to miss any time with the kids; never considered he was missing the last couple of days of Chanukah, though. I don't think he realized what he'd done until long after it was out of his mouth. He felt pretty bad about it when he told me, but what could I say? He was just trying to do the right thing and make sure that Peter and Miranda got to see their father for the holiday. Besides, it's not like we had big plans for Christmas so it didn't seem like that big of a deal."
"Okaaaay," she drawls out, still sounding confused. "But where is he now? If he was supposed to be back two days ago."
"Well, he left Denmark on schedule and had a layover in Norway, and they got hit with a massive storm so he's been snowed in. I thought Norway was more prepared for snow than we usually are over here, but his plane hasn't been able to take off."
"Oh; that's awful. I'm sorry."
"I mean, it's not as if it's the worst thing that could happen. He's just stuck overseas for Christmas. It could be a lot worse. We really don't make a big deal out of the holiday; it's just nice that we usually get to spend it together."
"Donna…" CJ says sympathetically, her voice trailing off, and I feel a catch in my throat. I take a couple of deep breaths to try to calm myself, but I feel a tear leak out of my eye anyway.
"Don't," I answer, my voice shaky. "I've done way too much irrational crying over this. I know he's doing his job, and I know he's not gone on purpose, but I'm disappointed anyway. It's bad enough that Josh feels rotten over this, especially because he's had to listen to me cry. It's out of our control, and we can certainly celebrate Christmas when he gets back."
"It's okay to be upset over it, you know," she says gently, "and it's also okay to cry over it. Your feelings are valid."
"But they're really not," I protest, sniffling as another tear makes its way down my face. "I'm behaving as if it's the end of the world when it's really just one of those things. We work for the White House, and you know as well as I do that it has a tendency to interfere with our personal lives. If we didn't know that at the beginning, we all knew it for sure when we signed on for President Bartlet's second administration. We've all worked holidays, we've all missed time with our families. It happens. Above and beyond anything else, Josh can't control the weather. He wouldn't choose to be stuck in another country, at least not if it didn't include me. And, you know, even though I'm so incredibly disappointed that Josh isn't here, I'd still rather he was the one stuck six time zones away right now than the President. His kids are still young and need as much normalcy as they can get. I know Josh feels the same way, too."
"I know it's no consolation, but I'm sorry this is how you're spending the holiday. Even if you're mostly okay with the reasoning behind it, it's still a bummer."
"I appreciate it, and we can celebrate when he gets home. I'm sure President Santos will insist on Josh taking a day or two because of this. He feels pretty bad about this whole thing, too, even though I don't think I've given him any reason to. It was just bad timing for a trip any way you look at it."
"Well, I'm here all night if you want to talk."
I let out a watery laugh, shaking my head even though she can't see it. "CJ, you have a baby at home. You don't have hours to talk to me while you ignore your child. I'll be fine. I've already talked to my mom, who offered to find a last minute flight here so I wouldn't be alone, and I talked to Josh, who I hope is actually getting some sleep instead of pacing around an airline terminal instead or harassing the employees at the counter to find a flight for him. He'll call me in the morning so we can commiserate together; meanwhile, I'm already in bed, I've got a couple of movies lined up, and with any luck, I'll be asleep before I get through either of them."
"What are you going to watch?"
The question throws me for such a loop that I can't process it enough to give her an answer. "What?"
"I want to know what you're planning to watch. Are you going to make yourself depressed by watching something sappy so you sit around and cry because you miss your husband?"
I can't help but laugh a little. "Well, that was the plan to begin with, though not intentionally. I was going to watch Love, Actually, because Josh really hates that one and I wouldn't have to listen to him gripe about it, and then it was a tossup between It's A Wonderful Life or Miracle On 34th Street, because both of those are movies he refuses to watch but…"
"If memory serves, we watched Love, Actually together at one point and wept like hormonal teenagers."
"Yeah, so I nixed that one. It's A Wonderful Life gets pretty dark before it gets better, and Miracle On 34th Street has always made me emotional, so I've now opted for National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and then I'll segue into A Christmas Story, which will probably just be on as constant background noise tomorrow, unless I decide to go into the office."
"Donna, do not go into work tomorrow. Only if it's an emergency. It'll just depress you even more."
"You really think sitting alone in my apartment on Christmas day while my husband is on an entirely different continent isn't more depressing than going into work and at least trying to do some good for the world?"
"When you put it that way…" she says with a chuckle. "Still, I'll give you a call tomorrow morning, after the kid has done the Santa thing."
"No, don't worry about it. I'll be all right. Josh'll call me as soon as he thinks it's a reasonable time for me to be awake, so by six at the absolute latest, and my parents will call me to make sure I haven't gone off the deep end and to listen to me open the presents they sent and then I'll get to listen to the rest of the family participate in the orgy of greed."
"You're right; that does sound depressing. Definitely go into work."
I burst out laughing, a few more tears leaking out of my eyes despite myself. "All right, all right. I'm hanging up now. Go spend Christmas with your family. I'll survive the next few days without the wit and witticism of CJ Cregg."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. Enjoy your holiday. Take lots of pictures and send them to me ASAP. We'll talk soon and maybe see if we can plan a trip out to see you at some point."
"We'd love that. I love you, too, and don't feel like you can't call tomorrow if you're really down, all right?"
"I love you, too, CJ. Have a good night, and merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas," she answers. There's a hesitation on her side before the call ends. I'm sure she wanted to stay on the line to try to cheer me up, but I appreciate that she didn't push. Besides, I think I'm mostly a hopeless case right now. I'm sad that I won't get to spend Christmas with Josh. He's always a good sport about celebrating it with me, even enjoying the festivities for the most part. Plus, it's a day we get to spend together, usually uninterrupted, and those are so infrequent that I really try to make the most out of them, even if it means we don't leave the apartment at all.
I glance over at my phone, briefly contemplating calling Josh again. Just to hear his voice for a few minutes but…it's after 2am where he is right now. I know he hasn't been getting much sleep and I don't want to disturb him if I don't absolutely have to. He'll call in a few hours and we'll spend the holiday together in whatever way we can.
With that, I put my phone on my nightstand, making sure the volume is turned up so I can hear if he calls. I get the TV situated, queuing up Christmas Vacation on TiVo and settling myself beneath the blankets—what else do I have to do right now? Sit up and feel sorry for myself? I've seen these movies enough times that I won't feel the need to hang on every word so I make myself comfortable and turn off the lights, hoping for the best.
No matter what I said to CJ, it really is ridiculously early to go to bed, especially considering the sort of hours I usually keep. In years past, Josh and I would barely be finished gorging ourselves on endless amounts of Chinese food at this point. We'd be digesting and lounging on the couch with a movie playing in the background as we made eyes at each other. Josh would be putting the moves on me until I "relented" and we wound up naked on the couch, or floor, or whatever surface we managed to land on.
It's so very tempting to let myself wallow, especially because the buildup to Christmas this year felt so lovely and magical. Maybe it's because we're still technically in our honeymoon phase and everything this past year has felt somewhat magical. Christmas didn't start out as his holiday, but he's definitely adopted it since we got together. He's always been good about giving gifts this time of year, but he hasn't had much choice but to be exposed to all things holly and jolly the last few years. He enjoys the commercial aspects of it mostly, and I don't blame him. Those tend to reel in just about everyone. So, he's been a good sport about having a tree and putting up decorations and playing along with my parents when they insist on calling us Christmas morning so we can play along with the rest of the family. I've adopted a lot of the Chanukah traditions, too, happily lighting candles and reciting prayers, trying to wrap my tongue around some of the trickier Hebrew words. It all works for us.
But that's what makes all of this harder. Because he's started enjoying so many of the trappings of the holiday, I notice his absence more. He was even more into it all this year, too. He was the one dragging me out of my office so we could go watch the tree lighting, wrapping me up in his arms and coat as the perfectly timed snow started to fall, kissing my cheek and my neck, tugging at my earlobe with his teeth, completely unabashedly making a general spectacle of us. Not that I was at all bothered by it. He was the one who picked out our Christmas tree, too, and went a little crazy buying new ornaments for it, insisting that we decorate the thing as soon as December hit. Being married has brought out an even more affectionate and doting side to him. I'm not complaining about it in the slightest, but it's objectively amusing. I don't know if he's referred to me as just "Donna" in the last ten months—it's always preceded with "my wife." I think he just likes to say it; I certainly like to hear it. I'm sure it'll get a little old at some point, but if my man wants to be so public about it, who am I to stop him?
I let out a sigh, then take a few deep breaths to keep my emotions in check. He'll be home soon. We'll celebrate then. He'll do everything he can to try to make it up to me, even though he has absolutely nothing to make up for. Being weepy about it all won't change a thing and it won't make me feel any better.
I turn up the volume of the TV, hoping the Griswolds' shenanigans will help me drown out my maudlin thoughts so I can get some sleep.
The first thing I become aware of is the smell of coffee. The second thing I become aware of is the smell of Josh. Overall, it's a very pleasant, soothing combination, one that promises to lull me back to sleep with very little trouble.
Something niggles at my brain, though, forcing me awake. My eyes open slowly and I prop myself up a little, realizing after a few long moments that I'm staring at Josh's pillow. I blink at it in confusion for a few long moments before I realize I must have spent the night clutching his pillow. It's only then I remember that Josh isn't here. Josh is, in fact, still in another country. I only thought I was surrounded by him because I used his pillow as a substitute husband…just as I've done repeatedly over the last week.
The smell of coffee wafting through the house baffles me for a few long moments before I remember that it's on an automatic timer so we don't have to worry about it in the mornings. We just dump the grounds every morning and put in new before we even leave for work, so we're usually greeted with brewing coffee as we wake up. Of course, there are many mornings that Josh is gone before the timer goes off, but we always make the effort.
With a groan, I turn over and grab my phone, surprised to see that it's almost seven, and disappointed to see that Josh hasn't even texted me yet. It's surprising, actually. Because of the time difference, he's had no trouble being my wakeup call just about every day he's been gone, and so that we get a few minutes to talk to each other before we have to go about our days. Maybe he thought that because it's Christmas morning, he'd give me a chance to wake up on my own. Not the most common of Josh tactics, but since it's a day off, it's a possibility.
I flop back onto the bed, dragging his pillow to my chest and burying my face in it. I'm just going back to sleep. There's no need for me to get up so early, and someone will be calling me before I know it, so I might as well. My bladder, however, disagrees, forcing me out of my cocoon a few minutes later.
After I've peed and brushed my teeth, I shrug into my bathrobe and shuffle out to the living room, blinking at the Christmas tree. The tiny white lights twinkle back at me merrily. In my haste to go to bed and forget everything, did I leave the tree on last night? Am I trying to burn the place down?
Honestly, I don't even remember turning the lights on yesterday, but that doesn't surprise me. It's one of those things I just do. I don't specifically remember plugging the lights in on any particular day, really. Still, it's very odd for me to have left them on all night.
I shrug to myself. At least the tree is watered regularly. The possibility of the tree being dry enough to cause any sort of damage are slim to none, and I'm fairly certain Christmas lights are now much safer than they used to be. I pull back one of the curtains a few inches, blinking in the brightness. It's snowing again, making everything look like the perfect winter wonderland. It's very depressing. This sort of weather would be the perfect excuse for us to not go anywhere, to just stay home and cuddle on the couch and watch movies.
Very depressing.
"Merry Christmas."
I let out a yell and jump, spinning around, my heart pounding nearly out of my chest. Josh smiles at me ruefully, his hair disheveled, his clothes rumpled, cup of coffee in his hand.
I blink a few times, rub my eyes, then blink again.
"Hi," he says softly, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. I clamp my hand over my mouth as tear well in my eyes. Am I dreaming?
Before I can begin to ask, he puts his mug down on an end table and rushes toward me, his wrapping around me in a tight hug. His scent washes over me, my body fits against his the way it always has, and I feel a tightness in me unwind.
I'm definitely not dreaming this. He's home.
"What...how…" I manage to choke out, wrapping my arms around him to make sure he can't go anywhere.
"They got the runways cleared a couple of hours after I talked to you and my plane finally got to take off. I would have called you, but I didn't want to get your hopes up just in case we ran into another speed bump. I had a layover in Boston, too, and I really thought we weren't going to make it. I was ready to rent a car and speed down here if I had to but…"
"How long ago did you get in?"
"I walked in the door maybe ten minutes ago. The guys didn't have to do a sweep since you were already here. I was actually just about to bring coffee in for you, but here you are."
"I missed you so much," I whisper, burying my face in his neck.
"I missed you, too. I'm so sorry about all this."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," I answer. "It was all beyond your control."
"Yeah, but I volunteered—"
"You did exactly what you were supposed to in that situation. I'm not mad about that; I never was."
"I still feel bad about it."
I lift my head from his neck, smiling at him fondly. I run my fingers through his rumpled hair, reveling in the feel of it. "Well…don't." He chuckles, making my body shake with his. "I'm serious. You did good. You didn't cause a snowstorm in Norway. Most importantly, you're here now."
Before I can continue, he presses his mouth to mine, kissing me like he hasn't seen me in a lot longer than a week. I hold his head in place, desperate to keep him close. Part of me still isn't entirely sure this is real—how could he have managed to get home early this morning, after all those days of not getting anywhere? Before I can think too much into it, his arms tighten around me, his fingers digging into my back, and the sensation reminds me all over again that he's here. Somehow, some way, he managed to make it home for Christmas.
We eventually come up for air, pressing our foreheads together as we breathe heavily. "I'm sorry I've been such a baby about you being gone," I whisper.
"Christmas is an important holiday for you," he answers. "It's okay to be upset. I was upset, too. I like this time of year with you."
I pull back a little and smile at him, watching deep dimples form in his cheeks as he grins back. "You know what, though…you're here now. I just want to forget the last few days and pretend that I've been a grown up about this. I don't want us to spend the day apologizing to each other, either."
He nods, leaning in to give me a quick kiss. "You're right. Let's just enjoy the day. I bet we'll still be able to order our extravagant amount of Chinese food today, and we can sit around and watch movies and—oh, damn."
My heart drops as his forehead crinkles, my mind immediately jumping to the worst. Did he suddenly remember he has to go in to work? That would figure. "What's wrong?"
"I don't have any of your presents wrapped yet. Everything's still socked away."
I breathe a sigh of relief. "Is that all? I can't believe you insist on doing that yourself when I know how much you hate it."
"Hey, it's the thought that counts, right? And the effort involved?"
"Honey, you're a very busy and powerful man. It's completely okay if you get someone to do it for you."
He definitely preens a bit at that, his ego always easy to stroke. "I am very powerful."
"You are," I agree, tightening my arms around him once again.
"After all, I managed to get home to my wife on Christmas against impossible odds."
I chuckle. "That you did."
His face drops a little again. "Still…you won't have any presents to actually open—"
I press my lips to his, silencing him. I kiss him thoroughly for a few long moments. "They're just presents. They look pretty under the tree, but I'd rather have you."
Somehow, his grin gets even wider. "You're so sappy."
"Josh," I whine.
"I've told you—you're like a living, breathing Christmas movie."
"You're so mean. I haven't seen you in a week and this is how you treat me?"
He readjusts his hands, sliding them under my pajama top. A shiver rushes through me at the sensation, making it difficult for me to continue to pretend to be mad. "I love everything about it. You find it all so magical and even the things that should be cheesy just aren't because you're so sincere. You're the reason I love this holiday and why I look forward to it."
"Yeah, well…I still mean it. If I have to choose between presents and holding you, I'm going to hold you every time. You are the only thing I need at Christmas. It really wasn't going to be the same without you."
"I plan to make it up to you," he answers. "Whether or not I need to apologize is immaterial. I just want to make up for any and all time we spend apart."
I sigh and snuggle into him again, enjoying the warmth that radiates from his body. "Well, if you're interested in making up for lost time, I'd be interested in revisiting just how powerful you are."
His head pulls back a little, angling to look at me. "Yeah?"
"Oh yeah." I grab his arm and pull it to my face, checking the time. It's still a little after seven, which means it's even earlier in Wisconsin, and my parents have a long-standing rule of no Christmas morning melee until at least eight. "We still have time before anyone calls." I disentangle myself completely, pulling his hand gently as I start to walk backwards down the hall. "Unless…you're too tired?"
He scoffs, following me willingly. "I got plenty of sleep on the plane, once I knew I was coming home to you."
He does look fairly well-rested, all things considered, but I wouldn't be surprised if he spends most of the day napping during movies. I don't care, though. We'll get to spend the day together and that's what I care about.
Well…this part will be nice, too.
The world, and the coffee, can wait for us.
I present to you my Christmas fic. It's less than a month after Christmas so it still counts…right? Hope you enjoyed!
