Imagine early mornings and Christmas decorating with Chris.
A/N: Part 3, woot! Links for the mini series will be added soon, there are two chapters to this series. (Baby Fever - Part 1/Part 2) and (Drunk Minds, Sober Hearts - Masterlist) Enjoy. :D
Dodger woke you up at 4:28AM because Phoebe was wide awake and Chris was fast asleep. You didn’t want to leave the comfort and warmth of your bed but you were a parent for the week and being a parent meant sacrifices; so you heard from your mom. Dodger jumped onto the bed and nudged you with his head, forcing you awake and out of bed. You sighed loudly; you were exhausted though you slept in your own bed at an appropriate time, you could only imagine how Chris was feeling.
You pulled your sweater over your head and slid your feet into your fluffy reindeer slippers before staggering down the hall to where your husband and niece were; Chris was curled up on the floor and Phoebe was in her cot, blabbering to herself. She saw you and smiled, holding up her arms as a gesture for you to pick her up. You smiled and let out a soft sigh, stepping around Chris to scoop her out of the cot and into your arms.
“At least one of us slept well.” You chuckled softly, tucking her soft locks behind her small ear. “I know you love Uncle Chris but I’m going to need you to sleep by yourself tonight. Do you think you can do that for me?” She giggled and cupped your face in her tiny hands. “I’m afraid that if you don’t-” you glanced down at Chris and chuckled softly. “Uncle Chris might change his mind about becoming a daddy and we don’t want that, do we?”
Phoebe didn’t know the words to tell you she understood but you knew she did, she was a lot smarter than people thought her to be. Look at how she emotionally manipulated Chris into keeping her company, and he wasn’t her only victim; her dad and her two grandfathers were constant victims. The men in her life were easy to trick, the women- not so much.
“Oh God,” you heard Chris groaned as he rolled onto his back. He looked up at you, wincing though there wasn’t any light. “What time is it?” He mumbled; his voice was laced with sleep. “Am I in Hell?” He asked and you chuckled, watching him hold his back as he sat up. “Why does everything hurt?”
“You slept on the floor, why doesn’t everything hurt?” You teased him, fighting the urge to smile. “I’m going to put you down, okay?” You told Phoebe and returned her to her cot; she laid back down and played with her own feet. “C'mon Cap,” you reached down to help him to his feet. “Let’s put you to bed.”
“Ugh,” he groaned, “what time is it?”
“Last I saw, it was four twenty-eight AM.” You told him and his face scrunched up. “Welcome to parenthood, sweetheart.” You teased, soothingly rubbing his back. “It’s okay, I can watch her while you catch up on some well-deserved sleep.”
“I’ll be fine,” he declined, “just get me some coffee.”
“It really wasn’t a suggestion.” You steered him towards the bedroom, drawing a soft chuckle from his throat; he was definitely grateful he had a wife as wonderful as you. “I know I’m not a child whisperer like you but I think I can survive a few hours with her.”
“I think you can do better than survive a few hours with her,” he smiled and kissed your cheek. “I just need a couple hours, I’ll be down as soon-” he yawned, “as possible. If you need anything-” he yawned again and you chuckled, “just come get me. I can-” another yawn, “always help.” He told you and you nodded, watching him climb into bed and curl up under the covers.
He was out in seconds.
• • • • • • • •
“What do you think?” You asked Phoebe, taking a step back from your mantel masterpiece.
You had cleared one of the shelves in the living room and created a Christmas feature that filled the whole room with the holiday spirit. It had the white Christmas feeling that you were so fond of and you couldn’t wait till the first fall of snow came over Boston. Christmas was one of your favorite holidays, people who knew you well knew you loved it a little too much. Each year you’d buy more decorations, in fact- majority of the boxes in the garage were marked ‘Christmas’. Things got to a point where Chris had to limit you to five new items each year, not that he could resist your puppy dog eyes when you found the sixth something that you just had to have.
“I think you started without me,” you heard Chris’ voice and turned around, smiling. He was wearing his black and white plaid shirt. “How the hell did you do all that while suffering from sleep deprivation?” He leaned over and kissed the top of Phoebe’s head. “It’s nice though, I’m glad you convinced me to let you buy that snowman.”
“Me too.” You hugged him from behind and he smiled, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “How’d you sleep?” You mumbled into his shoulder blade. “You look a little less tired.” You commented and he chuckled, turning around to face you when you released him from your grip. “But you could definitely use a few more hours,” you brushed his beard with your thumb.
“Is that a nice way of saying I look like hell?”
“You couldn’t look like hell if you wanted to,” you told him and pecked his smiling lips. “Do you want some breakfast?” You asked and he shook his head, wiping the drip from the side of his mug and licking it off his finger. “Are you sure? I can make you something.”
“Coffee’s good for now,” he nodded. “So tell me, my beautiful elf.” He raised his eyebrows with a playful smirk, making you laugh which drew a giggle from Phoebe. “What else is there to do to turn this normal everyday home into Santa’s Workshop?”
“We still haven’t put up the tree.” You reminded him and he dramatically gasped because it was unusual for you; you’d usually put it up at the start of December. “Okay, cut that out.” You fought the urge to start laughing when he did. “I’ve been busy with work and my husband doesn’t have the initiative to do things himself.”
“Excuse you,” he scoffed and chuckled simultaneously. “My initiative to do things has been ruined by you,” he said and you laughed because you knew exactly what he was talking about. “Do you remember the first Christmas we had together as a married couple? You were out of town for work and I thought I’d surprise you by decorating-”
“You don’t have to finish the story ‘cause we both know what happened and I don’t need a reminder of how bitchy I was,” you told him with a roll of your eyes.
“And you said I did it wrong and did it all again yourself,” he ignored you and finished the story anyway. You winced and he chuckled, grabbing your cheeks and squeezing your face. “But it’s alright, I knew you were a raging perfectionist before I married you.”
“And yet you still married me,” you teased him.
“What can I say?” He shrugged nonchalantly with a small smirk on his lips. “I’m a sucker for the crazies,” he winked with a click of his tongue. You laughed and playfully shoved him, causing him to lose his grip on your face. “Are we going to decorate this tree or what?” He asked, laughing. “Christmas is like- eight days away.”
“Trust me, I know.” You pointed at the countdown calendar on the fridge; Chris bit back his smile and shook his head. “Yes,” you nodded, rubbing your hands together. “Let’s get down to business. The tree’s in the backyard, I’m glad we got that sorted otherwise we would’ve been stuck with a stinky faux one.”
“For a person who hates bugs, I thought you wouldn’t mind a stinky faux one.”
“Not for the most wonderful time of the year,” you shook your head with a wide grin.
Phoebe clapped her hands together, giggling excitedly and drawing the attention of you and Chris. Chris put his mug down on the table and picked Phoebe up, bouncing her with a wide smile on his face. “Are you a Christmas nut like your aunt?” He chuckled when he saw you roll your eyes. “It’s okay if you are, just be cute with your crazy and you’ll have any guy fall at your feet. Look at your aunt, she’s insane and she got me didn’t she?”
“You’re lucky I don’t swear around children,” you told him and he laughed. “Just go get the tree, you jerk.” You tossed a plush Olaf ornament at him and he swiftly caught it, laughing even harder than before; Phoebe grabbed it from him as he lowered her back into her high chair.
“You know I love you,” he smiled.
“You’re lucky I love you,” you teased, pulling away before he could peck you on the cheek. He smiled one of his heart fluttering smiles and nodded in agreement; you melted on the inside and met his lips for a tender kiss. You were definitely lucky to be married to him, and eventually the mother of his children.
The Christmas Song "Trump's nuts Roasting on an Open Fire"
Trump’s nuts roasting on an open fire
as he keeps nipping at his foes.
you’ll cry creepy uncle
every time he arrives
for he keeps clawing at your clothes
everybody knows some money and entitlement
can help to make the season white
mothers of color with their kids out of sight
will find it hard to sleep at night.
They know that truuump is on his way.
he’s got black boys in hoodies locked up on his sleigh
and every working man is going to cry
when they learn that Letch don’t care how you live or if you die
Sooo I’m offering this simple phrase
to kids from 1 to 92
although it’s been said many times, many ways
Merry Christmas to you
Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas
Donald Trump, fuck you
“Hey Coran?” Lance asked, sitting
cross legged on the floor of the control room and pausing in the counting of
his fingers. “Can you pull up what today is on Earth?”
Coran leaned over the keyboard in
front of him as Lance pushed himself to his feet, standing ever so slightly
behind him and trying to figure out what the hell Coran was typing. “Well…I
don’t know much about your calendars, but here, let me bring it up for you,”
the man answered.
His fingers twisted and then a
calendar was on the screen in front of Lance, a big red circle around the date
on the page. Lance felt his stomach coil in anguish and he nodded, taking a
trembling step back. “Okay. T-thanks, Coran. I…I thought so.”
He turned and bolted from the room
before the Altean could ask what was wrong, brushing past Shiro on his way out.
The black paladin looked after him in confusion before glancing back at Coran.
“What’s wrong with Lance?”
The man shrugged, rubbing his chin
thoughtfully and staring at the calendar. “Not sure. He was counting for a
while, and then he asked me to pull up the date on Earth. Is it important?”
Shiro stepped closer and leaned in,
and his heart sunk. “Yeah, it is.”
“Really now? What, is it his day of
“No,” Shiro answered, pressing the
back of his hand to his forehead wearily. “It’s Christmas.”