Someday soon we will be together
If the fates allow
Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now
- 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas', Meet Me In St. Louis
xx.xx
"Merry Christmas, darling."
Robbie awoke nested in the swath of plush duvets and pillows that her partner insisted upon piling on their bed every day. She stretched, the cotton fresh upon her skin, cool and comfortable.
"Mm, merry Christmas." She craned her neck upward so their lips could meet, and she smiled into the kiss. "Also - 'darling'? That's a new one."
"Well..." Henry kissed her again, somehow softer and more tender than it had been before, and sat down next to her, smoothing out the sheet. "If I'd had my way, we'd be the same age and we would have met years ago. I've got decades of pet-names saved up. I need to make up for lost time."
She gazed into his eyes, his playful, boyish smile warning her of what was coming next. He hovered above her then, ready to pounce, and Robbie's entire body seized up in anticipation. Then he came down, poking her in the sides, furiously and relentlessly tickling her arms and neck, laughing all the while.
"Henry, stop!" she squealed between giggles, short of breath, kicking her legs and laughing until it hurt. "Henry!"
"Robbie?"
"Henryyy... Stop it..." Her fake protestations faded out with a last few giggles, legs twitching, the image fading.
"Oh my god. Gross." Finn poked her in the stomach, hard, and she sat bolt upright. She was in his childhood bedroom bundled in a sleeping bag and, as she was realizing with a tidal wave of embarrassment, had been talking in her sleep.
His eyes were wild with sheer disgust. "Um... Were you having a sex dream just now?"
"No. No! Why would you even ask that?" She wiped sweat from her forehead, pulling her bird-nest of hair into the messiest of pony-tails, simply to get the frizz out of her eyes.
"Because," Robbie whipped around to see a young blonde woman leaning in Finn's doorway, arms crossed and face entirely enthused: his younger sister, Poppy. "You kept moaning the name Henry."
Robbie began to splutter out a reply, but before she could do so, Finn decided to chime in with his ever-present opinion: "I definitely think you were having a sex dream."
"And who's Henry?" Poppy sauntered into the room, still in her PJs, and flopped down onto the bed. "Is he hot?"
"Okay listen. He is not hot and I was not having a sex dream." Finn narrowed his eyes, wordlessly questioning Robbie's denial. She decided to tell the complete truth: "I was having a dream about him. But it was just... sweet."
Finn pretended to heave, Poppy looked all the more confused. "A romantic dream?" He scowled. "Honestly a sex dream would've been way less gross."
"So I guess I'll ask again... Who's Henry?" Poppy was in her early twenties, and was currently studying theatre at a university on the other side of the country: the whole family was full of theatre buffs. Given that today was Christmas Eve, Robbie would be spending the next few days with her, Finn, their mom, and their cousin Amelia (among others) in their family home in Clivesdale.
She flopped down on the bed next to Finn, who began to smirk. "He's a professor. Professor Hidgens. They're writing a show together."
"Ooooooh, really? And you like him? Romantic." Poppy sighed, clearly excited by the prospect. "That could be the plot of a musical all in itself - a young ingenue brought into the world of the theatre by a kindly professor? It's basically Phantom of the Opera mixed with Little Women!"
Robbie nodded, pretending to be nonplussed but making a mental note to check those shows out.
"Well the show is actually about businessmen who play football... So..."
Ding ding!
Finn rolled his eyes at Robbie's text notification. "Come on Pops, we better go and give her some privacy - it's probably her one true love, messaging her about the latest song he's writing for her."
"I know you're being sarcastic," Robbie muttered, "But it is Hidgens." She frowned at his text.
Finn dropped the joke. "What's the matter? Is he okay?"
"That is weird." Finn squinted at the message. "Maybe you should give him a call?"
Poppy took the phone. "Oh my God, yeah. Call him, and like... Confess your love, just in time for Christmas Day tomorrow!"
Robbie felt like she had the air knocked from her. "Okay listen: I have a crush. I don't love him, so let's just calm down." She gave the others a stern look, not quite as confidently as she'd hoped. "And I was planning on calling him tomorrow to wish him a merry Christmas anyway. He's in that house all alone, he probably just needs to hear a familiar voice..."
Poppy blinked, incredulous, as if struggling to process Robbie's words. "I'm sorry... He's all alone?"
"He's a bit of a recluse, Poppy." Finn began to explain. "It's just what makes him most comfortable."
"But it's Christmas, guys."
It made sense that she would have such a difficult time understanding the concept, given the way that the Lewis family all gathered during the holiday period: the more the merrier was their motto, and they practiced what they preached.
In her mind's eye, Robbie allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to spend Christmas with Henry. Swapping presents. Cards with sentimental messages inside. Sharing food, music, falling asleep in front of the TV... Two people, with no families of their own, forging new traditions together.
She didn't allow herself to dwell on her feelings or these small fantasies too often - lest her crush grow into something far less controllable and deniable - but each and every time she allowed herself to daydream, she felt a security and a warmth that she hadn't in a very long time.
And that dream.
Fuck.
"What if we invited him to come here tomorrow?" Finn's head snapped toward Robbie, his voice buzzing with excitement. "Mom wouldn't mind, she always makes way too much food anyway." He turned to Poppy then. "He'll get on with everyone super well - he's a musical fanatic, so you'll have plenty to talk to him about!"
Poppy snorted. "As if I needed any more convincing! I need this to happen. I already ship it too hard and I haven't even met the guy yet!"
Robbie's breath hitched in her throat. It was exciting. It was such an exciting thought. But was it a good idea?
Finn seemed to read her thoughts, picking up on her facial cues as their ten-year friendship had trained him to do.
"I was right about inviting him out to dinner the night you met him, and I think that I'm right about this, too." He squeezed her arm. "If you don't want to, or you think it'll cause him stress, we'll forget the whole thing. But Robbie... I like him." In his eyes, her own excitement was reflected.
Finn never liked the people Robbie dated. She used to think it was protectiveness, but now she was starting to suspect otherwise: she had the habit of staying in dysfunctional relationships for far too long, and Finn was a great judge of character. He'd seen through Scott's bullshit right away.
And he thought Henry would be good for her.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. The daydream of what tomorrow might be returned momentarily: Henry, playing a song he'd written on the piano as cousin Amelia's dog, Tilly, rested at his feet. His laughter as everyone applauded. His warmth.
"Well if you like him, Finn..." Robbie smiled, failing to contain her excitement or her true feelings now. "Then I suppose I'd better ask Henry if he'd like to spend Christmas with me."