Holiday, (n.): a day of festivity or recreation when no work is done.

Nora:

I remember the first time we celebrated Christmas together, just the two of us.

We would be going up to your parents in a couple of days, but Christmas was ours alone. Roman was somewhere in Europe where he had was training up for a world championship that was happening on the day before New Years Eve, and your parents and mine were on a Christmas cruise that all of us 'kids' had given them.

We did all of the Christmas stuff together, buying the tree, the ornaments, presents for our families and friends, I think this was the first time we actually started giving away presents together. Roman had complained of the fact jokingly, saying it was unfair he suddenly got one less gift now that we were giving him one together. I swear, he really needs to get a girlfriend soon, maybe she will make him grow up some?

The only time we really spent apart the days before Christmas was when shopping for each other's gift I think, and I struggled to find something to give you that you would truly cherish. You had not been much help, only telling me that you had already gotten what you wanted when I had said yes to marry you. As cute as that was, it did not help me much now.

* * *

"Hey Nora?"

I turned and looked up from the bowl I was stirring in, immediately chocking on a laugh as I got a look at you.

"What are you wearing?" I laughed, and I could just about see the indignant look on your face.

"Ho, ho, ho," he said, the ridiculously long beard hanging from your face jiggling about as you spoke: "So have we been a naughty or a nice girl this year?"

I laughed again before nodding my head vigorously, "I have been nice, Santa."

"Oh really? Because I have it from pretty good sources that you have been a naughty girl." I could see the smirk hiding behind the beard, and he rubbed his large belly with his hand as he laughed, "I do not give away gifts to naughty girls."

"Hmm..." I said, playing along, "I wonder... Will you give me a gift if I give you one?"

"You play a dangerous game Ms. Lockwood... It must be a pretty good gift if I am going to switch your name to the nice-list." The smirk underneath the fake beard was so large now that I could see your lips stretching tight.

Removing the pot from the heat and turning off the oven I turned fully towards you, sauntering forwards slowly until I was standing straight in front of you, placing one finger on your chest I pushed gently until you stepped backwards, lowering yourself gently onto a kitchen chair. Smiling I climbed onto your lap, arms wrapping around your neck.

Your hands reached for my waist and you tried to pull me closer, only making me laugh as the large pillow you had stuffed underneath your red coat stopped me from actually coming any closer.

Grumbling underneath your breath you looked up at me with exasperated eyes, "let's get rid of this stomach, shall we?" I chuckled, leaning backwards slightly – blindly believing you would not let me fall off of your lap. You did not disappoint, of course, and held me steady with your strong hands as I quickly opened the buttons on the large red coat before pulling the pillow out and tossing it to the ground.

You grinned wickedly underneath the ridiculous beard and pulled me closer; one of your arms wrapping tightly around my back while the other traveled up my arm until I could feel your fingers twisting into the back of my hair.

"I think we need to get rid of another thing," I whispered, tugging slightly at the beard. Grabbing a hold of it you pulled it over your own head eagerly, knocking the Santa-hat off as well.

"I've taken off two things now, and you have not removed a single thing. You are not even close to switching lists young miss."

"Maybe I never wanted to be on the nice list," I whispered into your ear, and I could hear you inhale sharply before tightening you hold on me slightly and maneuvering me until my face was directly in front of you; "you better kiss me now woman, or I swear to God..."

Laughing I leaned forwards until our lips were touching.

Things escalated quickly after that; and our Christmas dinner was not eaten until the next day, as we both settled for grilled cheese sandwich eaten in bed, your arm wrapped around my shoulders and both of us lazily watching some crap show.

It was the best Christmas ever.