Merry Christmas for no_black_sheep
I really hope I got Andi right, I haven't written her properly before. *blushes*
The alcohol had been flowing and the Santa suit swamped him, the top two buttons were undone, revealing that there wasn’t much underneath, his beard was askew and the glasses he wore had fallen half way down his nose. He sat, no slumped on the chair, watching her move across the room.
Her suit fit perfectly, outlining every curve, hitting her in the right place, her Santa hat the only thing that was too big, and each time it fell across her face and she had to push it back he had to stifle his giggle. He’d learnt the first time he’d laughed in front of her; it had earned a hit around his head and the promise of things in his stocking apart from coal.
“Are you laughing at me, Mr Claus?” he couldn’t help but jump as he heard her voice in close proximity, having not heard her come up on him.
“Of course not, Mrs Claus,” he answered in return, offering her a smile that was slightly sheepish.
How she had gotten him into this costume he’ll never know. One minute he’d been going as a slightly scruffy Auror and then she’d battered his eyelashes, spoken a few well chosen words and handed him the costume - what other choice did he have to wear it?
He almost rested his head in his hand and groaned as the first strains of ‘Santa Baby’ came across the loud speakers and he watched as Andromeda’s eyes lit up.
“Oh look, they’re playing our song!” she giggled mischievously, pulling him to his feet and laughing as he staggered a little, reaching out to steady himself. Frank laughed as she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him and began to sway and he did the same telling himself it was that or fall down and maybe it half was but there was a part of him just wanted to hold her close for the duration of the song.
He knew there would be mistletoe somewhere, she would have seen to it.
“It’s rude not to look at the person you’re dancing with,” she said again right against his ear, making him half jump, half shiver and he shook his head to clear it, offering her his most charming smile.
“Maybe it’s not you I’m dancing with,” he shot back, with a smirk, knowing that eventually she’ll cuff him round the head again and they’d laugh and drink more firewhiskey and it would be just like old times.
Her mouth dropped open a little and she played offended, looking like she was just about to move away before he pulled her close again;
“You can’t leave, I’ll fall over!” he protested with a small laugh before kissing her on the lips quickly.
She looked up, there was no mistletoe.
“Does that mean I get one later?” she asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “After all, Mrs Claus has to kiss Santa Claus, it’s like some written law or something.”
“Maybe,” his smirk got wider as they danced more, the end of the song fast approaching. He rested his forehead against hers for the last few notes, sighing softly before looking upwards and guiding her towards the mistletoe that was just on the edge of the dance floor.
He pulled her close and kissed her deeply, pouring everything he felt for her over the years into it. He pulled away, watching her carefully;
“Merlin. Remind me to carry some mistletoe with me at all times, you know, for special occasions,” she said, her voice slightly breathless.
“I don’t think my wife would approve,”
“And who’s to say she can’t join in too?” the smirk she gave took his breath away completely.
The alcohol had been flowing and the Santa suit swamped him, the top two buttons were undone, revealing that there wasn’t much underneath, his beard was askew and the glasses he wore had fallen half way down his nose. He sat, no slumped on the chair, watching her move across the room.
Her suit fit perfectly, outlining every curve, hitting her in the right place, her Santa hat the only thing that was too big, and each time it fell across her face and she had to push it back he had to stifle his giggle. He’d learnt the first time he’d laughed in front of her; it had earned a hit around his head and the promise of things in his stocking apart from coal.
“Are you laughing at me, Mr Claus?” he couldn’t help but jump as he heard her voice in close proximity, having not heard her come up on him.
“Of course not, Mrs Claus,” he answered in return, offering her a smile that was slightly sheepish.
How she had gotten him into this costume he’ll never know. One minute he’d been going as a slightly scruffy Auror and then she’d battered his eyelashes, spoken a few well chosen words and handed him the costume - what other choice did he have to wear it?
He almost rested his head in his hand and groaned as the first strains of ‘Santa Baby’ came across the loud speakers and he watched as Andromeda’s eyes lit up.
“Oh look, they’re playing our song!” she giggled mischievously, pulling him to his feet and laughing as he staggered a little, reaching out to steady himself. Frank laughed as she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him and began to sway and he did the same telling himself it was that or fall down and maybe it half was but there was a part of him just wanted to hold her close for the duration of the song.
He knew there would be mistletoe somewhere, she would have seen to it.
“It’s rude not to look at the person you’re dancing with,” she said again right against his ear, making him half jump, half shiver and he shook his head to clear it, offering her his most charming smile.
“Maybe it’s not you I’m dancing with,” he shot back, with a smirk, knowing that eventually she’ll cuff him round the head again and they’d laugh and drink more firewhiskey and it would be just like old times.
Her mouth dropped open a little and she played offended, looking like she was just about to move away before he pulled her close again;
“You can’t leave, I’ll fall over!” he protested with a small laugh before kissing her on the lips quickly.
She looked up, there was no mistletoe.
“Does that mean I get one later?” she asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “After all, Mrs Claus has to kiss Santa Claus, it’s like some written law or something.”
“Maybe,” his smirk got wider as they danced more, the end of the song fast approaching. He rested his forehead against hers for the last few notes, sighing softly before looking upwards and guiding her towards the mistletoe that was just on the edge of the dance floor.
He pulled her close and kissed her deeply, pouring everything he felt for her over the years into it. He pulled away, watching her carefully;
“Merlin. Remind me to carry some mistletoe with me at all times, you know, for special occasions,” she said, her voice slightly breathless.
“I don’t think my wife would approve,”
“And who’s to say she can’t join in too?” the smirk she gave took his breath away completely.