A Very Not-So-Merry Christmas // A Mumford & Sons Fanfic

A Very Not-So-Merry Christmas - Oneshot

They had just started dating. Everything was new, different, lovely. Christmas was coming and they had decided to get themselves a tree. Of course, it didn't go so well. They'd gone to a tree farm with an idea in mind to buy a small, pretty tree. Marcus wanted one with more branches, Carey with less. "It'll take up too much space," Carey told him. "No it won't," he'd argued.

Finally, they come home with a tree. Now it isn't a particularly large tree, if only because of the fact that Carey always wins these sort of arguments between the two of them. They're both covered in mud, snow, and frost. "We decide to go tree shopping the very day after a typhoon of rain and it suddenly snows on us. Excellent plan, Mr. Mumford," Carey's muttering, chuckling in a humourless manner and tugging off her wellies.

It's true. Perhaps it hadn't been one of Marcus' brighter ideas. But then, no one had expected snow. At least he'd borrow his father's rusty pickup truck to make the drive out of London. That saved them some trouble. Marcus, who's carrying the large thing inside, branches and all, struggles and curses softly.

Carey only watches. Good, she's thinking. Let him think about how much of an arse he's been. Bloody git. And with that, she's wandering off to have herself a hot shower. She's caked in mud and frost and her hair is practically frozen to her temples. She's all but chilled to the very bone, it feels like.

A few hours later, though, and Marcus has the tree set up quite nicely in the living room of Carey's flat. Rambo's trotting around happily, panting, inspecting the tree and sniffing here or there. He's curious.

"Looks nice," Carey finally says, coming out of the bedroom with a box of her nan's ornaments, a towel drying her hair with the opposite hand. She mumbles playfully to him whilst ambling on over. "I'm glad we went with the smaller one." Marcus can only roll his eyes. He turns to glimpse over at Carey, saying, "I think I'll be having a shower now. You get started on decorating the blasted thing."

He rises to his full height again, groaning, a hand pressed to his achy lower back. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone," he mumbles, patting her bum and strolling off to have a shower as well. Lord knows he's dirty and freezing.

It's when he comes back that he's shocked with the sight at which he's greeted. Carey's decorated the branches with her ornaments, all Welsh and English-made. It looks rather pretty. She even added some tinsel, a bit of ribbon. He taps his chin, crossing the room to fix one or two of the ornaments, a grin finding his lips.

"What do you think?" Carey pipes up, a shy smile on her face. Coming over to her, he winds a long arm around her middle and pecks her cheek. "It looks amazing," he whispers in awe. Ever the perfectionist, Carey sees the tree is a bit off kilter. Huffing at her own mistake, she all but plods over to fix it.

"Wait," Marcus tells her, laughing softly at the determination in her expression. She's always been that way. Ever since they were children. Before he can get there, though, the tree tips right over. And where does it land? On top of Marcus, of course.

Marcus winds up lying on his back, hands flying out to stop the tree from poking him in the eye or anything. He's suddenly very glad they'd gone with the shorter, smaller tree.

"Oh, shit. Oh. Oh, fuck," comes Carey's voice from the other side of the room. Marcus could laugh. "Are you okay?" she asks, rushing over to lift the tree. She's so tiny. It takes a bit of pulling, a bit of work, but he's finally free and she's standing the bloody thing back up. No ornaments are cracked or broken, thankfully. There's been no bloodshed.

She kneels down beside Marcus, as if to inspect him for any injuries. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he says with a soft laugh. "Just let me help next time, yeah?"

With a soft huff, Marcus is sitting up. Rambo's pawing at his side, nudging him with a toy in his mouth. Our whacky little family, Marcus is thinking with a soft but sweet laugh. All at once Carey's pressing her lips to his for an affectionate kiss. He welcomes the surprise, as always, a hand cupping her jaw. Her lips linger on his, their foreheads pressing together shortly after. "Are we okay now? You're not angry about this morning, are you?" His voice is soft, tone tentative.

"No, I'm not mad," she says. "Although you drive me mad sometimes. I still love you." That makes him grin, a hand reaching out to squeeze her thigh. "Help your boyfriend up, yeah? We've a tree to finish."