MERRY CHRISTMASSSSSS CHAR
ILY, CHAR. ALSO, THIS IS PRETTY MUCH HOW I SEE BELLA & JACOB IN OUR PSL ENDING UP. NO LIE.
They're so hot right now.
So here's your gift. Five Christmases, five of my favorite holiday songs.
Bella wakes up to pounding and what, to her half awake and hopefully unreliable ears, sounds like Billy Black hollering about lazy police chiefs. The alarms says it’s 4:50 in the morning, Christmas day.
Bella curls up under her blanket and uses her Christmas wish for just another hour, please.
Reality sets in fifteen minutes later when she blearily open an eye and finds Charlie prodding at her lumpy form gently, eyes drowsy and coffee cup in hand. “The Blacks are here,” he says hopefully, like Bella can do something about it. “Why?” she croaks pitifully, only to be interrupted by someone bounding up the stairs in a way that has Bella’s eyes widening. “No,” she whispers, and ducks under the covers amid the sounds of Jacob skidding to a halt outside her bedroom door, wide awake and likely wanting something horrible like breakfast before six in the morning.
“Happy nondenominational winter holiday!” she hears, and whimpers pitifully as Charlie pats the blanket over her shoulder in a way that says, ‘I know, honey, I know.’
**********
“Hey college girl!” A sudden cold wetness spreads across Bella’s back and she lets out a shriek, jumping and dropping the pan she was cleaning with a loud crash. Jacob is laughing hysterically when she turns around, bent half over and clutching his knees. “Your face-” he wheezes, and Bella smacks him on the shoulder ineffectually.
She’d be more angry, but it’s been months since she’s seen Jacob.
“What are you doing here?” she says instead, surprise turning to genuine joy as his laughter fades away. “Is Billy here? Dinner’s all cleaned up, but there’s leftovers in the ‘fridge and-” Jacob cuts her off with a hug and she shrieks again at the melting snow clinging to his sweatshirt.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against her hair, insincere in that he doesn’t let go until she speaks.
“Is that a present in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” Bella manages to wiggle one hand between them and into the large pocket at the front of his sweatshirt to yank out a box with a victorious huff of air. Jacob laughs and releases her.
They stand for a long second, Bella turning the small box over and over in her hands, shaking it, then peeling wrapping paper away with the excitement of a five year old.
**********
Sometime during the party Jacob managed to find a Santa hat and fake beard. Bella thinks, ‘That’s my fiancé, oh my god’ before Mrs. Anderson (who is seventy and married) seats herself primly onto his lap and proceeds to blush crimson behind her wrinkles.
Bella reaches them just as Jacob purrs out, “And what do you want for Christmas, young lady?” to which Bella promises herself cruel and unusual revenge.
She just got this job and already she‘s considering just how to phrase her resignation letter. ‘I apologize for my husband-to-be’s behavior with the older women at the company party. I’m sure he didn’t mean to give them heart attacks.’
“Jake!” she hisses, curling her hand into his shoulder and tugging incessantly. He blinks innocently at her. “Mrs. Claus!” Jacob says and Bella can hear the smirk in the words even if it’s hidden by fake white hair. “Kitty was just about to tell me what she wanted for Christmas.”
**********
“Flights are all cancelled,” Jacob says, sounding tired and frustrated. “I got a hotel room and I won’t be home until tomorrow night.” Bella lets out a huff of air and settled deeper into their (half empty, this Christmas sucks) bed. She curls a hand around the phone and tucks both under her ear carefully. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“No, no,” she says, tucking her knees up to her chest and huddling deeper into the blankets. “It’s not your fault. Where are you now?”
“In the room. Oh, hey, what are you wearing?” And Bella knows that tone, the ‘distract-me-from-my-misery-with-innuendo’ tone. She’s just grumpy enough not to lie.
“A robe, under armor, flannel pants, a tee-shirt and your favorite button up.”
A pause, then “So the heater broke again?” She snorts, and he sighs. “I’ll fix it first thing when I get home.” She hears shuffling, then a long, drawn out sigh. “Bed,” he explains a moment later. “Talk to me. Just… anything.”
And so Bella does. A long stream of just how cold their bed is without his 106 plus degrees and the dishes sitting in the sink waiting for him and the fact that there’s a pile of gifts under the tree that she can’t open until he gets his ass here to help her. She talks even past the point where Jacob’s breathing tapers off into shallow regularity and the occasional snore. She talks until she wakes up suddenly, phone digging into her chin and Jacob grinning down at her, dark circles under his eyes and clothing travel rumpled but home.
**********
Jacob blinks blearily at a pair of feet wriggling just to the left of his face, one charmingly pink sock clinging desperately half on, the other long since left behind. He hears giggling, then feels a hand shove against his calf. “What,” he asks, voice gone hoarse with sleep, “are you doing?” Bella is still asleep, arm thrown to the side in a position Jacob can’t help but think must be ridiculously uncomfortable. She’s snoring slightly and there’s a damp patch on her chin. Charming.
“It’s Christmas,” says a tinny voice, muffled by comforter. Jacob shakes his head and pushes miniature feet away from his face and closer to Bella’s. His wife wakes with a snort and flailing limbs.
“What?” she asks, jerking up and blinking wildly in early dawn light.
“I’ve been told it’s Christmas,” Jacob replies, lifting the blanket to grin cheerfully at his daughter. She smiles back, comfortably sprawled in the warm space between her parent’s bodies.
“Christmas has been cancelled until a more human hour.” Bella glares at them both (well, Jacob and the twisting lump of blanket she assumes is Amy) and manages to look not at all scary with her hair flat on one side and sticking up in fantastic ways on the other.
“Nooooooooo.”
“Dude,” Jacob says faintly, cringing away from the wail. “Okay, okay, we’re up.”
**********
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. MERRY CHRISTMAS. PLEASE DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED. I WENT FOR FUNNY AND MAY HAVE MISSED.
OH HERE'S THE .ZIP. If nothing else seriously just listen to Back Door Santa. It makes me LOL for hours.
They're so hot right now.
So here's your gift. Five Christmases, five of my favorite holiday songs.
Bella wakes up to pounding and what, to her half awake and hopefully unreliable ears, sounds like Billy Black hollering about lazy police chiefs. The alarms says it’s 4:50 in the morning, Christmas day.
Bella curls up under her blanket and uses her Christmas wish for just another hour, please.
Reality sets in fifteen minutes later when she blearily open an eye and finds Charlie prodding at her lumpy form gently, eyes drowsy and coffee cup in hand. “The Blacks are here,” he says hopefully, like Bella can do something about it. “Why?” she croaks pitifully, only to be interrupted by someone bounding up the stairs in a way that has Bella’s eyes widening. “No,” she whispers, and ducks under the covers amid the sounds of Jacob skidding to a halt outside her bedroom door, wide awake and likely wanting something horrible like breakfast before six in the morning.
“Happy nondenominational winter holiday!” she hears, and whimpers pitifully as Charlie pats the blanket over her shoulder in a way that says, ‘I know, honey, I know.’
**********
“Hey college girl!” A sudden cold wetness spreads across Bella’s back and she lets out a shriek, jumping and dropping the pan she was cleaning with a loud crash. Jacob is laughing hysterically when she turns around, bent half over and clutching his knees. “Your face-” he wheezes, and Bella smacks him on the shoulder ineffectually.
She’d be more angry, but it’s been months since she’s seen Jacob.
“What are you doing here?” she says instead, surprise turning to genuine joy as his laughter fades away. “Is Billy here? Dinner’s all cleaned up, but there’s leftovers in the ‘fridge and-” Jacob cuts her off with a hug and she shrieks again at the melting snow clinging to his sweatshirt.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against her hair, insincere in that he doesn’t let go until she speaks.
“Is that a present in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” Bella manages to wiggle one hand between them and into the large pocket at the front of his sweatshirt to yank out a box with a victorious huff of air. Jacob laughs and releases her.
They stand for a long second, Bella turning the small box over and over in her hands, shaking it, then peeling wrapping paper away with the excitement of a five year old.
**********
Sometime during the party Jacob managed to find a Santa hat and fake beard. Bella thinks, ‘That’s my fiancé, oh my god’ before Mrs. Anderson (who is seventy and married) seats herself primly onto his lap and proceeds to blush crimson behind her wrinkles.
Bella reaches them just as Jacob purrs out, “And what do you want for Christmas, young lady?” to which Bella promises herself cruel and unusual revenge.
She just got this job and already she‘s considering just how to phrase her resignation letter. ‘I apologize for my husband-to-be’s behavior with the older women at the company party. I’m sure he didn’t mean to give them heart attacks.’
“Jake!” she hisses, curling her hand into his shoulder and tugging incessantly. He blinks innocently at her. “Mrs. Claus!” Jacob says and Bella can hear the smirk in the words even if it’s hidden by fake white hair. “Kitty was just about to tell me what she wanted for Christmas.”
**********
“Flights are all cancelled,” Jacob says, sounding tired and frustrated. “I got a hotel room and I won’t be home until tomorrow night.” Bella lets out a huff of air and settled deeper into their (half empty, this Christmas sucks) bed. She curls a hand around the phone and tucks both under her ear carefully. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“No, no,” she says, tucking her knees up to her chest and huddling deeper into the blankets. “It’s not your fault. Where are you now?”
“In the room. Oh, hey, what are you wearing?” And Bella knows that tone, the ‘distract-me-from-my-misery-with-innuendo’ tone. She’s just grumpy enough not to lie.
“A robe, under armor, flannel pants, a tee-shirt and your favorite button up.”
A pause, then “So the heater broke again?” She snorts, and he sighs. “I’ll fix it first thing when I get home.” She hears shuffling, then a long, drawn out sigh. “Bed,” he explains a moment later. “Talk to me. Just… anything.”
And so Bella does. A long stream of just how cold their bed is without his 106 plus degrees and the dishes sitting in the sink waiting for him and the fact that there’s a pile of gifts under the tree that she can’t open until he gets his ass here to help her. She talks even past the point where Jacob’s breathing tapers off into shallow regularity and the occasional snore. She talks until she wakes up suddenly, phone digging into her chin and Jacob grinning down at her, dark circles under his eyes and clothing travel rumpled but home.
**********
Jacob blinks blearily at a pair of feet wriggling just to the left of his face, one charmingly pink sock clinging desperately half on, the other long since left behind. He hears giggling, then feels a hand shove against his calf. “What,” he asks, voice gone hoarse with sleep, “are you doing?” Bella is still asleep, arm thrown to the side in a position Jacob can’t help but think must be ridiculously uncomfortable. She’s snoring slightly and there’s a damp patch on her chin. Charming.
“It’s Christmas,” says a tinny voice, muffled by comforter. Jacob shakes his head and pushes miniature feet away from his face and closer to Bella’s. His wife wakes with a snort and flailing limbs.
“What?” she asks, jerking up and blinking wildly in early dawn light.
“I’ve been told it’s Christmas,” Jacob replies, lifting the blanket to grin cheerfully at his daughter. She smiles back, comfortably sprawled in the warm space between her parent’s bodies.
“Christmas has been cancelled until a more human hour.” Bella glares at them both (well, Jacob and the twisting lump of blanket she assumes is Amy) and manages to look not at all scary with her hair flat on one side and sticking up in fantastic ways on the other.
“Nooooooooo.”
“Dude,” Jacob says faintly, cringing away from the wail. “Okay, okay, we’re up.”
**********
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. MERRY CHRISTMAS. PLEASE DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED. I WENT FOR FUNNY AND MAY HAVE MISSED.
OH HERE'S THE .ZIP. If nothing else seriously just listen to Back Door Santa. It makes me LOL for hours.