Christmas at the Lang's: Book Four

8

The next hour was busy, to say the least. To say the most was to say Scott was totally working his ass off sorting out anything and everything Maggie wanted him to do to help with the meal, which was a lot. To use Hope's words, Scott was "being dramatic."

He was "being dramatic"? "Being dramatic"?! Outrageous! Scott was not being dramatic!

But he'd already had to go around forcing everyone to wear their Santa hats (Hank refused to keep his on, and Loki had initially, but had surrendered when Scott offered chocolate) and ask everyone what they wanted twice and put the kettle on three times. Three! And Hope had the guts to sit at the unset dining table and tell him he was being dramatic by saying he has to do everything!

"I am not being dramatic! I'm just dying of stress and being overworked," Scott said, dramatically sighing, then flopping into a chair next to Hope dramatically and pretending to faint. Also dramatically.

"Stress?" Hope asked, raising an eyebrow. "Scott, it's Christmas, what could you possibly be stressed about?"

Scott opened his eyes slightly to look at her out the corner of them. "Oh yeah? Well, when you organise Christmas for nine people it has that effect, you know. And anyway, you seemed pretty stressed when you were talking to Hank yesterday."

Hope's face darkened. "I'll tell you about it after Christmas, Scott. I don't want to ruin your good time."

OK, Scott was intrigued and scared. He was always scared if someone didn't say it's nothing to worry about. Plus, analysing his girlfriend's language there, he was getting the words ruin your good time. That, paired with her serious expression, and secretive tone with Hank, suggested just one thing to Scott. Whatever it was, it was bad news.

"See, now you've just made me interested," Scott said, leaning forward in his chair. "What's happening?"

Hope shook her head. "Forget it for now, Scott. Enjoy your Christmas."

But before Scott could further interrogate her because he was pretending he hadn't caught the hint, as if on cue, Hank opened the door and came in, with a serious expression and without his Santa hat. That man was Scrooge himself.

"Hope? I'm going to need to borrow you for a minute," Hank said, biting his lip. "I'm not... interrupting anything am I?"

Scott went pink. He couldn't help it. "No, no, sir. Not doing anything with your daughter. Please take her."

Hope rolled her eyes. Really, she didn't deserve them. "Cheers Scott. I'll be back for the dinner. Don't die of stress before then, OK?"

"Will do, boss," Scott said. Then he turned to Hank. "Hank, just for me, could you please, please, please put on your Santa hat? To humour me? Just for a few hours? It would mean so much to me." He even pulled a cute Puss in Boots face to go with it.

Hank considered him for almost half a second. "No."

Scott's face dropped. "You're no fun. OK, but don't expect me to stop bugging you about it. Oh, and you can go use my room if you want somewhere private to talk."

"Thanks Scott," Hank said, and he and Hope left the room.

Cassie looked through the gap in the wall from the kitchen. "Where are Hope and Hank going, Dad?" she asked.

"To talk," Scott said, getting up out his chair to go into the kitchen through the arch.

"About what?" asked Cassie.

"You're guess is as good as mine," Scott shrugged.

Maggie saw he'd entered the kitchen and immediately asked if he could do another "quick" job. How dare she. "Hey, Scott? Would you be OK doing another quick job?"