A Very O'Toole Christmas

Author's Note: This is a little collection of Christmas thoughts because I am so in need of an SSD Christmas fix. Of course, the characters all belong to the amazing Martha Williamson, but I must borrow them and give them a festive spin. This is all fluff and no substance – I leave the meaningful to others more serious than I.

Making Plans Part 1

'Oliver,' Shane McInerney O'Toole began, 'We need to have a little talk.'

This could have been an ominous beginning, but as Shane was beginning this discussion curled up on the couch so close to her husband that not even an air-mail envelope would fit between them, he was not significantly concerned.

'What about?' he asked, putting down his book, giving her his full attention.

'Holidays.'

'Are we going somewhere?'

'Thanksgiving. Christmas. Those holidays.'

'Oh. Do you have a preference?' Oliver questioned.

'Yes, but hiding out and pretending we are not at home is probably not an option!'

'Hmm. It is a thought with some merit though.'

Shane snuggled even closer if that was possible. She leaned over and kissed Oliver's cheek and then said with a wink, 'I know right? Maybe we can get Ramon to arrange a snowstorm.'

He smiled. A few days alone with his wife sounded just about perfect, but he didn't think it was really a possibility. Her next statement confirmed it.

'We need to catch up with Mom and Alex for one of the holidays,' she began, rolling her eyes. Maybe we should go and see them for Thanksgiving? At least we could make a quick getaway and she won't be able to alphabetise our closets.'

Oliver laughed. He loved Sharon, and spending time with her was something he found easier than Shane did. She truly was the mother he had always wanted. Shane, however, could clash heads with her mother over almost anything. Alex was a different case. Shane had begun to re-establish her relationship with her sister, and even though Oliver was fond of Alex, as an only child he was still unused to her relentless teasing and enjoyed her company in small doses.

'Let's call and see what they think.'

'You call Oliver,' Shane pleaded. 'After all, you are the favourite.'

Oliver narrowed his gaze at that but took the phone Shane held out to him.

Thirty minutes later, Oliver passed the phone back to Shane. She giggled. He had only managed to say eleven words during the whole conversation. Apparently, Mom had lots of thoughts to share.

With a rueful smile, Oliver informed Shane that they were expected in Virginia for Thanksgiving. She and Alex were spending Christmas with Aunt Catherine and her children, that Cousin Belinda's baby was due in mid-December which meant that Sharon and Alex were staying put for Christmas to spoil the baby (Was there some not overtly stated hinting that having babies was something to consider?) and that gifts would be mailed (USPS of course) including the traditional Christmas Eve gift.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. 'What is the traditional Christmas Eve gift?'

Shane giggled once more. 'Oh, I have a feeling you are going to hate it!'

Caught in the Act

It was very quiet, Oliver thought. Too quiet. Usually, Shane was easy to locate because she was surrounded by noise. Her shoes, her never-ending playlists, and her chatter all meant that she was easy to find. A quiet Shane was… suspicious. A quiet Shane in November could only mean one thing - she was hunting for her Christmas presents. As silently as he could, Oliver went in search of his ever-curious wife.

Shane was currently doing a thorough search of Oliver's closet. She though the closet was a little obvious, but as she had already searched his car, his office, the basement, garage, and attic, it was all she had left. She knew he had a present for her because he had exulted just last week that he had finished his Christmas shopping. Gloating, she thought, was an unattractive trait. (Guilt at her own lack of present-progress may have been behind her annoyance.) With a small nod of determination, Shane began to climb precariously up the open shelving, determined to reach to very top space.

Oliver wondered if he would ever get used to seeing his wife doing dangerous things, successfully overall. He silently crept into the walk-in closet and stood directly below her. He cleared his throat. Shane simultaneously gasped, twisted and lost her grip on the shelf, tumbling on to the only thing that was going to save her dignity – Oliver.

Having broken her fall, Oliver was now lying on the floor of the walk-in closet with a slightly guilty looking wife starfish-ed on top of him. There were probably many worse ways to spend a Saturday afternoon, he thought. Shane attempted to sit up with an alarming number of elbows in his direction, until he wrapped her in a hug that stilled her struggles. Her face was suffused with colour – culpability making her blush. She really was too cute. So cute that he decided that he needed to kiss her pink face – all of it.

Knowing that she was now thoroughly annoyed at being caught, he let he go. She sat up and glared a little in his direction. He sat up too, and smirked. 'Looking for something Mrs O'Toole?' he queried.

His gracious wife poked her tongue at him. 'Well of course I was looking for something!'

She leaned towards him fluttering her eyelashes. 'You know that my insatiable curiosity is one of the things that you love about me..'

'Who told you that?' he asked, pulling her closer.

She giggled. 'I didn't say it was top of the list.'

A pleasant interlude later, Shane returned to the subject at hand, namely finding her present. 'Am I at least getting warmer?'

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her. 'I can think of a few ways to answer that … but I assume you mean the present?'

'Good guess Sherlock.'

'In that case, you are positively icy.'

'Really?' 'Is it in the house at all?'

Oliver merely grinned.

'Mrs O'Toole, I realised that after your successful birthday sleuthing, I needed to become a little craftier with my hiding places.'

'The DLO?'

'Still chilly.'

'But you have already bought it?'

'Oh yes! Quite some time ago. Have you tried the garage? Or the attic?'

'You've given it to someone else to look after, haven't you?'

A knowing smile was still her only response.

'Rita and Norman can't keep a secret, so it won't be them. Your Dad has it doesn't he?'

'In case you were wondering, Dad has changed where he leaves his key out. No breaking and entering if you please.'

Another mature poking tongue was the response.

To quote Benedick, 'Peace! I will stop your mouth.'

Never one to give up without a fight Shane replied, 'I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion.'

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