#winterrose 12 days of christmas

[roamwithahungryheart]

On the first day of Christmas, Lauren gave to thee - a heartwearming soft Sy story!

Thank you @winter2112rose for coming up with this lovely Christmas challenge! x

“Is there a problem here?”

A deep Texan drawl sounded from the other side of a vast Fraser fir. Trouble on Christmas Tree Lane didn’t come often, but when it did, it came in the form of a perfectly manicured Soccer Mom. The stretch of road leading to Willow Brook Tree Farm had become affectionately known as Christmas Tree Lane, but on this particular day, there was no affection in the air. Soccer Mom drew back from the tree, the corners of her mouth twitching as she readied herself to launch an attack. However, her scowl was met with the stern, steely gaze of a man in combat uniform.

“Not at all.” Her voice softened to a sickeningly sweet lilt. “Thank you for your service.”

“Thank you ma’am.” The man crossed his arms over his beefy chest and cleared his throat. “But that’s not what I was hearin’.”

“It was just a misunderstanding, really.“ Your eyes cautiously flitted between the man and Soccer Mom. The last thing you needed was a big bust-up. There would be enough arguing around the table on Christmas Day.

The shop’s double doors opened with a whoosh, two small children swinging on the arms of a man who made a beeline for Soccer Mom. Hello Soccer Dad.

“Honey?” He didn’t look at her, instead locking narrowed eyes with the soldier, his posture that of a man in a Wild West standoff. “Is this guy bothering you?”

You could barely hide your intrigue. This would be interesting.

The children were silent, the young boy looking up in awe as if face-to-face with real-life GI Joe.

“Your wife was bothering this lady.” He gestured to you, still stuck in a staring contest with Soccer Dad. “As far as I’m concerned, that tree doesn’t belong to anybody until it’s in their truck.”

Soccer Dad’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. “Honey, Maddie and Tyler picked out the tree a week ago. Why do we need another one?”

“The PTA-“

Soccer Dad cut her off. “Fuck the PTA!” He half-whispered, mouthing the word ‘fuck’. “The kids are happy, so let’s just go home.” He held up a hand to you in apology. “I’m sorry about my wife. She’s under a lot of stress right now.”

“It’s fine, my sister has kids and she’s run off her feet right now too. I get it.” Your sympathetic reply worked its magic, perfectly placating this little white-picket-fence family. But you couldn’t resist taking it one step further, squatting down to Madison and Tyler’s level. “I bet Santa’s in a hurry now too. I have it on good authority that he’s definitely coming this year.”

Their eyes lit up and they erupted into a squealing chorus of “Really?!”

Soccer Mom nodded.

Soccer Dad shook his arms gently. “Whoever gets to the car first gets to track Santa this year. Go!”

They shot off, flanked by Soccer Dad to make sure no trees or ornaments were harmed in the process. Soccer Mom silently apologized as she fumbled in her handbag for her car keys. Then, with a smile, she slung her handbag over her shoulder. “Happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays.” You smiled back, examining your chosen tree one last time.

“Nice tree ya got there.” He extended a hand to you. “Name’s Sy. Let me help you get that beauty through the lot. It’s the least I can do.”

You shook your head in amusement. “You’ve already defended my honor. You’ve done enough, soldier.”

“In my line of work, there’s no such thing as doing enough.”

“You’re not gonna let up are you?”

“No ma’am.”

“Alright.” You shrugged. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to let me help you with something in return.”

Sy placed his hands on his hips in thought, shuffling on the gravel. “I guess that’s fair.” He caught the attention of a staff member with a subtle chuck of his chin and braced himself to lift the tree. You felt an immense sense of satisfaction as you handed over your credit card at the checkout. You’d won this battle. And you had a soldier to help you finish the job.

Sy’s eyes widened at the sight of your car. He clearly didn’t expect to see a Suzuki. He slapped the roof of the car and leaned against it. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Go ahead.”

“How about we put the tree in my truck and I follow you? I just don’t think this is gonna be safe.”

“I don’t usually let strange men follow me home, but since you’ve been so helpful, I’ll make an exception.”

“Well, thank you.”

Sy waved the staff member across the lot to a cherry red Chevy. Sliding into your car, you braced yourself against the steering wheel, constantly glancing in the wing mirror to check that Sy wasn’t about to make off with a free Christmas tree. When he pulled out of his spot and honked his horn, you knew – thank goodness - he was genuine.

When you reached your driveway, you hopped out and guided Sy forward, the two of you lugging the tree to the front door.

“Thank you for doing this. It was very kind of you.”

Sy chuckled. “Kind. Ain’t been called kind before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” You stopped turning the key, leaving it dangling in the lock. “Now, what can I help you with?”

Sy looked back at his truck and exhaled. “Well, I do have a niece that needs a present. I don’t have the first clue about what to get her.”

“How old is she?”

Sy really did look lost. “Six.”

“Leave it to me.” You rustled in your handbag for your phone. “Let me give you my number and I’ll call you when I’m done. You know where I live now, so���”

“I’ll know where to go.” Sy winked.

You finished unlocking the door and gave Sy a small wave, the keys jingling in your hand. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” Sy called out from the driver’s seat. Backing out of the driveway, he gave two staccato honks of his horn, and then he was gone.

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[roamwithahungryheart]

I found myself missing Dad!Sy and his chaotic family from my earlier story Homecoming, so I decided to bring them back for a little festive drabble!

This was inspired by the 'Santa suit' prompt from the lovely @winter2112rose .

Sacred Heart Elementary’s Christmas party had been a success for everyone except eight year old Alexander Syverson. Still in his elf costume, he slammed the door, launched himself onto the couch, crossed his arms and sulked. Being raised in a military family meant that Alexander didn’t get away with temper tantrums for too long. His father, Jack, peered around the living room door, then searched his wife Sarah’s face for an answer.

“Alex had a bad time at the party.” Sarah’s eyes softened. “Go easy on him, Jack.”

Jack replied with a grunt, then approached his son.

“Hey buddy, Momma tells me you had some trouble at school today, is that right?”

Alexander huffed. His eyes were red and puffy. “Sorta.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Whaddya mean sorta?”

Alexander took off his hat, scrunching it nervously in his tiny hands. “Daddy, is Santa Claus real? Emmett McAllister said he’s made up. He made fun of me in front of everyone.”

Jack crouched down to his son’s level. “You know how sometimes I go on secret missions? Ones I can’t tell anybody about?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, a couple years back, I was part of a mission called Operation: NORAD. Do you know what that is?”

Alexander shook his head.

“NORAD is how they track Santa every Christmas. I was one of the guys in the control room, and I saw his sleigh take off that night.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. “Really?” He squealed.

“Really.” Jack nodded. “So whatever Emmett McAllister told you, it’s a load of bullsh-“ He stopped himself mid-sentence – “it’s a big ol’ lie. And you know what else?” He shot his son a conspiratorial grin. “I happen to know for a fact that Emmett is on the naughty list.”

Alexander sat up straight then. “Am I on the nice list?”

“You bet.” Jack ruffled his son’s hair. “The Syversons are always on the nice list. Go on upstairs.”

With that, Alexander shot off.

Sarah leaned against the doorframe. “I know one Syverson who won’t be on the nice list this year.”

“Oh yeah?” He grasped his wife by the waist, pulling her against him.

“Sometimes being naughty is more rewarding than being nice.” She lilted, trailing her hands down his chest, making him jolt a little as she travelled further downward.

He responded with a low growl.

“Amen to that.”

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[roamwithahungryheart]

Another little something for the lovely @winter2112rose Christmas story extravaganza - I know I'm using the prompts out of order but after a fair bit of writers' block I'm letting my brain take me wherever it wants to go first so I hope you'll forgive me for the unconventional approach! This one uses the overall theme as inspiration.

Consider this a festive version of my Date Night series 😉 x

"Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is no!"

If there was one thing your best friend was good at, it was getting you into trouble. You could tell by the tone of her voice when you’d picked up the phone that she was planning something.

“Just hear me out.”

“I don’t have time to get into any crazy shit. I have Christmas shopping to do.”

“Come with me for the first night, and if you don’t wanna do it, then you don’t have to.”

With a resigned sigh, you bit the bullet. “Alright, what is it?”

“There’s a speed dating thing at a bar downtown and I want you to come with me.”

You rolled your eyes and slackened your hip, pressing your free palm against the kitchen island. “Didn’t you like, just break up with Scott?”

“Yeah, but he was an asshole, so I’m broadening my romantic horizons.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s like I always say, keep your mind, schedule and legs open.”

The First Date of Christmas

The bar in question was tucked away down a side street and aptly named The Bar With No Name. It was one of those typical hole-in-the-wall hipster haunts, which gave you a little more faith in the quality of men you’d be forced to spend the evening with. You were happy to tolerate flannel shirts and IPAs for one night. There was a banner strewn across the doorway with ‘The 12 Dates of Christmas’ written in gaudy red and green. Cringing inwardly, you took your friend’s arm and nudged through the double doors.

When you walked in, you were each given a name tag, a pen and a vague gesture towards the back of the room where a crowd had already started to form.

“Stick or split?” You eyed your friend cautiously.

“I can handle myself. Go have fun. The safe word is Dasher.”

You blinked in confusion. “There’s a safe word?”

“Always. If you want out, just text me.”

“You got it. Go jingle your bells.”

“Go be a ho ho ho!”

The bar had really committed to the bit, with staff members dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters, elf hats and reindeer antlers. A selection of Christmas hits pounded through the room, and in spite of knowing that your friend was perfectly fine, you kept glancing in her direction.

Then –

“Excuse me?”

Good manners and pleasantries were the last things you expected tonight, so you immediately turned. Standing before you was a man who looked like he definitely didn’t want to be there. A man after your own heart.

“Hi.” Your voice was flat, but you smiled.

“God this is awkward isn’t it?” He raked his fingers through his matted dark curls. “I’m Walter. But you know that because of the, uh…” He pointed at his name tag. “Fucking hell, this is terrible.”

“You can say that again.” You took a sip of your drink. “When I saw where this place was, I seriously thought I was about to get murdered or something.”

Walter laughed. “Well, you’re with the right guy. I’m a detective.”

“Sure you are.” You tilted your head skeptically.

He pulled out his wallet, revealing his badge.

“Oh shit!” Your eyes widened. “Big fan of Sherlock Holmes as a kid?”

“Yeah. I think it’s the reason most people go for the job. It can be difficult at times, but I love it.”

“Beating the shit out of assholes for a living? I’d love that too.”

Walter leaned in, the warm scent of beer hitting your face as he spoke, mingling with vetiver musk. “I’m actually undercover right now, but don’t tell anyone.” He winked.

You winked back. “Your secret’s safe with me, Detective.”

It surprised you that he didn’t hold himself with confidence or authority. He slouched, sipping his pint with a loose grip on the glass. It made you conscious of your posture, and you noticed that you were mirroring his. Your phone hadn’t buzzed. You’d forgotten the safe word. Was this going well? Were you actually considering coming back tomorrow night?

“Good to know.” Walter noticed your sideways glance and scanned the room. “Looking for someone?”

“Someone for you to arrest. She dragged me here against my will.”

Walter sucked in a breath, his eyes glistening with amusement. “Well, I’m glad she did.” He tipped his glass towards yours. “Fancy another drink?”

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