As always, my thanks to chelsie fan.

By the time the Carsons reached their cottage, Elsie was practically asleep on her feet. This worked considerably to Charles's advantage, because he didn't have to do anything to hide the slight…rearrangement of their living room. She would have tumbled into bed in her clothing if he'd let her, but eventually he convinced her she'd be much more comfortable out of her corset. Having spent nearly two straight days in it, even half asleep Elsie couldn't argue with that.

He left the room while she changed, and by the time he returned she was already snoring softly, her body only half covered by the bed sheets. He smiled, sliding under them and pulling them up to cover them both. She murmured a sleepy thanks to him and he smiled at her, permitting himself to simply gaze at her for a quiet moment. Unable to entirely contain his pride in her, he leaned over to plant a kiss on her cheek, and then another, before blowing out the candle.

Morning woke Elsie with a myriad of strange smells. Most pungently…coffee? And bacon? Charles could be heard bustling around the kitchen as usual, but there was some manner of urgency that wasn't usually there. Elsie threw off the blankets, concerned that something might be upsetting him.

"Charles?" she called, not even bothering to find her dressing gown before poking her head out into the hall. "Is everything-"

"Everything is fine!" he shouted. "Just, um, go back to bed!"

"Why?" she asked, not moving from the doorway. "What's the matter?"

Charles took a break from his tasks and went to her to stop her from coming any further out of the bedroom. "Nothing," he promised, kissing her forehead. "Humour me and go back to bed?"

"All right," she conceded, giving in to his pleading tone with a slight smile.

"Thank you," he said gruffly, hurrying back to the kitchen. Elsie shook her head, but did as she was bid and make her way back to their bed.

Fifteen minutes later, Charles came through their bedroom door bearing a large breakfast tray piled high with toast, coffee, eggs and sausages. Elsie shuffled up into a sitting position so he might place the tray over her lap. He enjoyed her rather shocked expression as he described the contents of every plate.

"Mrs. Patmore did give me considerable advice about the eggs and sausages," he admitted. "And a lesson, or two."

"It's wonderful, Charles. But you've gone to so much trouble!"

"Don't married women usually eat breakfast in bed?" he asked proudly.

She arched an eyebrow in his direction. "Married ladies, Charles, as you very well know."

"I do. And while I do enjoy eating with you in the kitchen, I thought it might make a nice Christmas Eve tradition for us."

Their very own traditions. Elsie smiled at this idea. Happily she took a sip of the coffee, savoring the taste. "You spoil me," she commented.

"Would it help to know that I've waited several decades to be permitted to spoil you?"

Elsie went very still at this. "Several decades?" she mumbled.

Thankfully she couldn't see how red he'd turned. "Not decades – well – but –" he sputtered. "I don't know. That just sort of slipped out."

Sensing his unease, she reached out for his hand. "Charles, have you eaten?"

"I may have tasted the first two attempts at a decent fried egg…" he admitted, not sure where this was going.

"Then come here," she said, squeezing his hand slightly. "I couldn't possibly eat all this by myself." He let go of her and slid under the covers, sitting himself up against the headboard.

She turned towards him with a smile, and his embarrassment dissipated somewhat.

"There is no point in being so spoilt if one cannot share it," she said softly, offering him a piece of toast. He took it from her and kissed her on the cheek.

"I married a very wise woman," he said, grateful they weren't going to tarry on his remark just then. He wrapped an arm around her and moved closer so they both might reach the tray.

"Yes, and don't you forget it," she said with a small smile.

Long after they had finished eating, Charles and Elsie lay about in bed, neither in any great hurry to get up. They'd drawn out breakfast as long as they could, until they were just blatantly cuddling without a shred of pretense. Elsie had abandoned sitting up straight, and had drifted to rest her head on her husband's chest.

She knew they ought to get up, but there was something so satisfying in just lying there with him, listening, feeling his easy breathing against her cheek.

"I like this Christmas Eve tradition," she offered, to finally break their silence.

"As do I," Charles agreed. With her ear pressed to his chest, his voice seemed to rumble even more than usual.

He noticed her face break into a smile and he wasn't quite sure why. He tapped her lightly on the nose with his forefinger. "Penny for them?"

"I like feeling your voice," she said, not caring if it sounded silly. It was the truest explanation she could think of.

He hummed for her benefit, and pressed a kiss into her hair. "You know, when we get up, there is another Christmas Eve tradition waiting for us."

That piqued her curiosity. "Oh? What's that?"

"You'll have to get up and find out," he said mischievously.

"What have you done?" she wanted to know, sitting up and knocking the tray that was still perched over her knee. "Oh!"

"It's fine," said Charles, reaching out and steadying it before a dish slid off. "I've got it."

"Thank you," she said shaking her head at herself. "I must have forgotten it was there."

"No harm done, love," he insisted.

"Good," she said, letting out a breath.

"I think I will take it into the kitchen, however," he deadpanned, picking up the tray, "before you take it upon yourself to drop kick it out the window."

She laughed before she could help herself, making it difficult to arrange her face into a suitable frown. "It would seem that I've married a very silly man," she said with mock severity.

"Don't tell anyone," he returned, leaning in to kiss her one more time. "And don't you forget it."

"Charles, I'm up, and I'm dressed. Now would you please tell me what you've done?!"

He was being very secretive, and she was almost annoyed. At his request she stood in the living room door, waiting as he adjusted a few last pieces of furniture.

"I only just figured out this place, and you decide to rearrange it?" she scowled, growing less patient by the second.

"You'll like it, I promise," he assured her, taking her hands. "Come here."

She clasped his hands, and he led her into the center of the room. Her mind worked furiously at trying to unearth what he was about, but she couldn't come up with anything. He dropped her hands, and she stood there, stranded, until she felt him behind her. Gently he turned her towards the corner of the room.

"Put your hands out and walk forward," he said, his voice low in her ear.

"What?"

"Just do it," he said pleadingly. "I'm right here."

She took a step forward, and then two more, her arms outstretched. If it were anyone but him she wouldn't have put up with any of it, but she sensed his almost gleeful anticipation. She would humour him, if it mattered that much. She took another step, more confident this time, and-

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her hands colliding with a bristly wall of foliage. The smell of pine hit her, previously obscured by the smells of cooking and coffee. Now it was unmistakable as her fingers sought out bumpy branches with large soft needles.

"It's a Christmas tree!" she declared, delighted.

"It's our Christmas tree," he said triumphantly, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her from behind. "All ours."

TBC...