Twelve Ways To Spend One's Christmas Eve

Four Calling Birds

        “Good,” she says, getting up from her seat by the window and rushing towards the aforementioned counter. Sure enough, a plate of beautifully iced biscuits is set on the marble, and she eyes them closely, picking one up and peering at them through the darkness. “Is this...me?” she asks incredulously, holding one even closer to her face at the sight of a frosting girl on a sleigh pulled by several reindeer, smiling widely as gusts of icy wind whip through her deep red hair.

        “Aha, yeah...” Jonathan looks close to embarrassed as he comes to join her by the counter. “I didn't think you would notice...”

        “You frosted me on cookies?” she asks, half awed, half disbelieving.

        “It is your day!” he responds, a little defensive.

        “My day?”

        “Yeah,” he says, a little unsurely. “I mean...yeah. Christmas Eve is all about stockings and presents and giving and being happy and you're at the centre of that. I mean, people spend tonight with their families, and you get up, whizz around their houses at top speed, fall  - jump - down their chimneys and leave their presents under their trees all without them even knowing - hell, if it isn't your day, I don't know what is, Anna!”

        She pauses, cookie still halfway between her and the plate and the counter. “I...”

        “God, you still don't get it, do you?” he asks, and she thinks he hears a little frustration in his voice.

        “Get what?”

        “You're special, Anna!” Jonathan says, throwing his arms up in the air. “You think you're not, and that Nick is more important, but you so are!”

        She turns properly now, to stare at him openmouthed, but he doesn't seem to notice, still speaking at about a million miles an hour.

        “You're funny, and sweet, and thoughtful, and you always think of other people before yourself, and not to mention you're absolutely gorgeous - I don't even know if it's your magical genes or whatever, but God, do you not see yourself? I don't understand how you can - ”

        Overall, she thinks, she did make an effort. She really did. She tried to resist any urges she may have had for the past hour or so, but people always look so much more kissable in the dark, not to mention people are always more kissable when they are listing all of one's good qualities, which is precisely why Jonathan's monologue is cut off completely by Anna seizing the front of his shirt and dragging his lips to hers. He lets out a quiet oomph, but she soon makes sure his mouth is otherwise occupied, and it occurs to her as his lips move gently and steadily against hers - just how Jonathan would kiss - that this is the best idea she's had in, like, forever.

        He pulls away a few moments later, hands resting at the small of her back, and he's smiling, so she thinks maybe she didn't do something completely wrong.

        “I was not expecting that,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against hers.

        “Surprise?” she offers, and the resulting laugh makes her feel warm all over.

        “You caught me off guard,” he says, nudging his nose with hers.

        “I'm sorry,” she replies, arms still around his neck. “I just - I don't know. I think maybe I've been wanted to do that for quite a long time.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, Anna realises they're true.

        Jonathan's smile widens. “Oh yeah?”

        “Yeah.”

        “Good. Because I've been wanting to do it for a long time too.”

        “So why didn't you?” she arches a brow at him.

        “I don't know?” Jonathan says sheepishly, more of a question than a statement. “I guess I might've been a bit worried that it would mess with your crazy immortal mojo. Or something.”

        Anna pulls back at that, looking up to fix him with a pair of eyebrows raised high in amusement. “Crazy immortal mojo?”

        “Well, yeah,” he responds, and she probably shouldn't find the way he's defensive and the flush she can just make out creeping up his neck as adorable as she does. “I don't know...”

        She laughs. “For the record, I'm not one hundred percent immortal,” she informs him.

        “Oh?”

        “Yeah. It's just easier to say I am. The difference between us and you puny humans is we age at a completely different speed. A much, much slower speed.”

        “So...old for you is, like, three hundred years, or something?”

        “More like three thousand,” she corrects, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “But yeah. Everything moves at a slightly different speed for us. It's how we get round those houses in time.”

        “So are we currently in slow motion from your side of things?” Jonathan asks, frowning.

        “No,” Anna shakes her head. “I can change it around for a while. But only for short periods of time. I speed things up for you whenever I see you.”

        “That's...really cool,” Jonathan says, slightly awestruck.

        “Hey, I don't like that tone in your voice, Mister,” she chastises, poking his chest.

        “What tone?”

        “The one that implies that you can't believe I'm cool," she teases.

        “Oh, you are cool,” he informs her, tugging her closer. “You are totally cool.”

        “Is that so?”

        “Definitely.”

        “I'm glad you think so,” Anna says, eyes already drifting back to his lips.

        Jonathan leans a little closer. “Think you can manage to speed up time a little longer?” he murmurs, lips near her ear. Anna feels her lips curve into a smirk.

        “Hm, I think I might be able to arrange it.”

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