“No way, I’m not taking a picture with some bearded drunk in a mall.”
“Why would you assume he’s a drunk?”
“The last one was,” Dean mumbled.
You’d been just about to leave the mall - the star Dean picked out to top your future Christmas tree swinging in the bag you carried, the metal’s delicate framework of whirls protected by tissue paper and a sturdy silver box - when you spotted the one thing you knew Dean was trying to avoid. The North Pole.
Or, at least, a big green chair with a Santa look-a-like atop it, surrounded by fake snow and trees, and a tall candy cane pole with a sign done in beautiful calligraphy informing the mall’s patrons this was meant to be the North Pole. Dean had recoiled.
“Come on, it won’t be that bad! It’s not like you have to sit on his lap and tell him what you want for Christmas, I just want a picture.” Dean frowned at you and shook his head. You reached forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, the bags in your hand hitting the back of his legs. “Please,” you whispered, pushing yourself as close as you dared in this public setting, “I promise I’ll make it up to you when we get back home.”
Dean raised his eyebrows and soften his scowl. “Oh really?” He shifted his own bags to one hand and slid the other around your waist. “And how do you plan to do that?”
Dean seemed to consider for a moment, just barely hiding the smile your effervescent grin created in his own features, then sighed and pulled you closer. “Fine, if it’ll make you happy.”
“Yay!” You planted a quick kiss on Dean’s lips and grabbed his hand from your waist, dragging him towards the line for Santa’s tiny North Pole. It almost felt like he was pulling you backwards, but you soldiered on anyway.
The crowd of people waiting for a picture were unsurprisingly young and you received more than a few questioning looks – some more like glares – from the mothers of the kids in line. You ignored them and squeezed Dean’s hand as he stiffened with discomfort.
“Next!” A cheery elf called, opening the little red and white stripped gate and ushering you and Dean inside.
Now that you were here you had to admit that you, too, felt uncomfortable – though you wouldn’t tell Dean - trying to take a picture with man in a red suit meant to provide entertainment for children. But you’d begged Dean to do it so you marched forward and sat on the seat beside the mall Santa, feeling unbelievably grateful that his chair was more like a couch and there was plenty of room. Dean stood beside you and didn’t even consider taking the spot on the other side of the bearded man.
“Say Merry Christmas!” a second elf singsonged.
You did as instructed and found yourself bolting from your chair as soon as the flash went off. You and Dean collected your picture and paid, thanking the colorfully dressed employees and heading out to the parking lot hand in hand.
“See, that wasn’t that bad!” you said.
Dean’s only response was to yank your hat over your eyes.
Note: I will be posting these stories for 12 days, if you don’t want to be tagged 12 days in a row please tell me, I don’t want to annoy anyone!
*The top two gifs were found on google images and are not mine, the third one I made.*
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