H&S: Story Of Dorothy Oneshots

Merry Birthday

        "Ooh! Ooh! Me! Gimme!" Dorothy jabbered, waving her hand in the air and jumping off the bed from where she had been casually sitting beside Sue. Speaking of the teenager, he was as stiff as a board as he picked up his fallen book. The maid laughed as Dorothy swiped most the sweets off the serving tray, stuffing about three in her mouth at once since her mother wasn't around to scold her.

          "Merry Christmas, Sue and Dorothy." The maid cheerily bid them goodbye as she hustled back out the door, face lit up with a huge cheesy smile. They could hear her hum a cheerful tune as she walked down the hall.

        Dorothy spun around to face the boy and clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes squinted with mirth as she held back laughter. Almost being caught amused her to no end, but it always left Sue paranoid. He never counted on a servant barging in without knocking. Not only was it generally impolite, but them being 'the help,' they were especially given orders not to do that. Usually they obeyed, because after all, privacy was valued among everyone. What if they weren't quick enough?

          "It's not funny, Dorothy." Sue sternly reprimanded her, slightly glaring with his chin tucked in his hand. "I have half a mind to tell dad to remind the maids that holidays don't permit changes in the rules. I could've been dressing, for all she knew. But, knowing dad, he'll probably get mad at me for 'looking down on the maids.'"

           "Just try and deal with it for today, pretty please." Dorothy replied pleadingly, pecking a kiss to his nose. "I want you to be really happy today. So, you should smile more, and forget about how dad is." She hooked her thumbs in the corners of his mouth and forcefully lifted his lips into a smile.

        Sue wanted to huff, he always had to deal with his father. It's not like he could back-talk him. "Fine." He simply said, although it sounded weird because she was holding his mouth open.

         The day grew colder as night pounced, the snow shimmering under the starlight. The nights were always longer during winter, Dorothy never got used to how the sky darkened so quickly. The family had dinner, along with the servants, all sat at the long dining room table draped with its pristine white cloth. Christmas feasts were the usual, main courses on big platters and sides on smaller plates surrounding them. A turkey, a ham, meatloaf, along with vegetables like boiled potatoes and green beans, and a large bowl of fruit salad. The desserts were present throughout, several cakes accompanied by a sweet potato pie, chocolate pie, lemon pie, and other fruit pies. The different smells that mixed together was glorious.
        
       After they finished eating, they lounged in the parlor, admiring the Christmas tree. A chambermaid continually stoked the fire in its fireplace, keeping everyone warm. The orange glow kept the room alight as clouds passed over the moon. Maria cuddled against Georg on the sofa with a quilt wrapped around them, both smiling with a twinkle in their eyes as the two adoringly watched beloved Dorothy open her gifts. She tore the wrapper to shreds, not saving any for next year since they wouldn't need to, and gasped in delight at whatever she found.

        "Another pretty dolly, how cute." Dorothy gushed, cheeks starting to ache, as she held a porcelain pilgrim girl in her gloved hands. Her eighth gift, with bouncy braids swinging from her bonnet. The silk gloves she now wore was her sixth present. She hugged it against her chest.

         "Your mother chose that one." Georg chuckled, holding a mug of eggnog (with a small dose of alcohol) that had a cinnamon stick jutting out of it. Maria winked as she lifted her own mug of spiked eggnog to her lips. Dorothy began to open the next present while munching a fresh-baked gingerbread man.

    Sue watched her with an expression one could only describe as unconditional love, leaned heavily forward in his recliner with his hands propping up his head. An honest smile gracing his pale face, a perfect curve in his lips. If Dorothy saw it then, she'd blush, thinking it made him that much more handsome, and grow  flustered from his undivided attention. But she was far too occupied tearing open wrapped boxes, and her father noticed him instead.