A/N: More fluff. Cringe.

26. Christmas

The snow swirling frenziedly through the empty landscape is savagely beautiful. Nellie stares, enraptured, watching the dizzying flakes twist and pound down onto the treacherous ground. She barely feels the cold, too transfixed by the storm in front of her. She can hear the sea roaring its disapproval as the wind tears down the pier. If there's one thing Nellie loves more than the sea in summer, it's the sea in winter; Christmas at the seaside is the most exhilarating time of the year.

It's hard to believe they've already been down here for a year, the four of them. Like a proper little family. The thought of it makes her smile. Family. For years it was her wildest dream, but even in her vivid imagination, she never really expected it to come true. But it finally has, and Nellie couldn't be happier. She has a wonderful, beautiful son, her dear little Toby, and of course her husband, the one man she has longed for for practically her entire life. Sweeney Todd.

"For God's sake, Nell," a voice growls from behind her, rousing her from her trance-like state. "Come away from the window, you silly woman. You'll catch your death."

Said husband is standing by the door with his arms folded across his chest, eyebrows cocked. It's a slightly arrogant look, and she knows that it means he's amused with her. He leans casually against the frame, tilting his head to one side as he listens to the wind wailing outside the window, rattling the glass, the snow continuing to hammer mercilessly against the house. She sighs dreamily but complies with his wishes, casting one last longing glance at the snow before sliding into bed. She hitches herself up on one elbow, watches as he begins to undress methodically, dropping his waistcoat to the floor, starting languidly on the buttons of his shirt. He's been out all day, shaving the faces of gentlemen down in the town at the little barbering shop he owns. Actual shaves, of course—their killing days are long behind them now. They have more important things to worry about than the disposal of bodies.

Sweeney slips into bed beside her, lying on his back to contemplate the ceiling. Grinning, Nellie flops onto her side so she can mould herself around him, her head on his shoulder, an arm thrown across his waist, their legs tangled.

"You're cold," Sweeney protests gruffly, allowing her to snuggle next to him anyway. Nellie still can't believe that, after everything, he is still here with her. She knows how hard it was for him to accept her being pregnant, how difficult he had found leaving London behind after his revenge. She understands how torn he had felt when he'd married her, his heart belonging to another.

But now she likes to think that he's made peace with his demons. He certainly isn't as broody as he used to be, and even though he has still never said those three important words to her, she feels that he does care about her in his own way. Perhaps it will never be love, but she is content enough to know that he will be there no matter what.

She hums in her throat, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Did you check on the boys?"

"Yes. Curled up waiting for tomorrow morning, just like you told them to do."

"They're lookin' forward to the presents, bless 'em," Nellie muses. "You put them under the Christmas tree like I told ya to?"

"Yes, Eleanor," Sweeney grumbles, closing his eyes. "Toby's at one side and Zach's on the other, just like you directed."

Silence for a moment, then:

"Is Toby asleep?"

"Yes." Todd cracks open one eye to lazily regard her.

She begins tracing innocent patterns on his chest, the etchings on his razors. "What about Zach?"

"Asleep too." Her husband's breath hitches a little in his throat as her cool fingers play over his skin.

"Hmm…in that case…" The patterns become decidedly less innocent, reaching lower than is proper, and Sweeney flips over with a growl, pressing his body to her cold one. Nellie's grin is wicked as she purrs his name, angling her hips against his so she can brush against him, her hands moving to his hair.

Oh, yes, this Christmas is set to be the best yet, she thinks as he lowers his mouth to nip at the side of her neck. Coherent thinking ceases after that as his hands roam possessively over her body, his mouth moving to claim hers.

It certainly looks like she'll be getting the best present this year.