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INT. LARGE VICTORIAN LIVING ROOM WITH BLAZING FIREPLACE AND CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS ALL AROUND THE ROOM
The roaring fire illuminates a room filled to the brim with Christmas decorations. A figure is partly lit by the roaring fire. The Christmas lights flicker and reflect on a pair of glasses. The figure has one leg thrown over the other and leans back in a plush armchair. In their hands is a large leatherbound storybook, the words ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas emblazoned on the front in gold letters. The book opens and fingers delicately flip to the right page and suddenly, words fill the room.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the town
Not a person was stirring, not even a Knight;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
Marjorie and Reece
Marjorie paused a moment as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was a bit paler, had slightly darker circles under her eyes. She just told everyone that the stress of putting on the nativity at the nursery was affecting her. Knowing the chaos that this annual event inevitably caused, everyone believed her. She smiled as she put on her glasses, her ears perking up to catch the smooth notes of Bing Crosby’s voice as “Mele Kalikimaka” rang out through the house.
She quickly rushed downstairs to find her husband in the kitchen stirring a batch of pancake batter, a vinyl already on the record player. Reece immediately perked up when their eyes met and he put the bowl down to rush up to his wife. “You alright Marjorie?”
“Never better, darling,” she said with a smile. She really had never been better. She was spending yet another Christmas with her husband and hoped to spend many more together. Marjorie leaned back and peered over at the stove, eyeing the griddle preheating on the stovetop. “I love when you make your special pancakes!” she said joyfully.
“Marjorie… I make the same pancakes every week.”
“I know and that’s why they’re special. Because you only make them once a week.”
Reece laughed and affectionately rolled his eyes. “Want to help me make your ‘special’ pancakes?” Marjorie nodded enthusiastically and headed straight to the utensil drawer. She opened it and let her eyes roam over the various options inside.
“Your spatula, Reece.”
Reece looked at Marjorie incredulously as his eyes flicked from her excited smile to the item in her hand. “Marjorie, that’s a whisk.”
“Oh, I know silly! I was just kidding around! Here’s your spatula,” Marjorie laughed.
“Gorgeous, that’s a ladle,” Reece replied with a playful groan as he reached past her to take the spatula he needed from the drawer.
“Oh,” Marjorie said dejectedly.
Reece gently kissed her temple and asked, “Do you want me to add anything to this batch before I start cooking?”
Marjorie thought for a moment before replying, “I’ve been craving blueberries recently.”
“One order of blueberry pancakes coming up, beautiful!” Reece said, waving the spatula with a flourish before taking a container of blueberries out of the fridge. Time flew by as Marjorie “helped” Reece in the kitchen and soon a pancake mountain was born, adorned with blueberries galore and looking almost too good to eat. Almost. Her mouth watered as she set the table and she grew excited to have the food she’d been craving since the previous night.
Once the food had been eaten (and Marjorie had moaned her way through about a dozen pancakes), the couple found themselves sitting on the couch, watching the fireplace roar as Marjorie rested her feet on Reece’s lap and he gazed at her adoringly. As they relaxed, Marjorie fought an inner struggle with her excitement, her joy building and threatening to bubble over. But she had to contain herself so she could properly pull off this surprise, lest the couple three doors down find out because her voice carried a bit too well in the crispy, wintery air. Wordlessly, Marjorie stood and strode over to the Christmas tree, grabbing a surreptitiously hidden box in the back. “Darling?”
“Yes, gorgeous?”
“Could you come over here?” Marjorie asked leaning out from behind the massive, lush decorated branches. Reece narrowed his eyes in confusion before shrugging and doing as his wife had asked. Sometimes, Reece found it better not to ask questions. He had learned that the hard way from his sister. Behind the tree, Marjorie held out a strangely shaped, wrapped object and thrust it into his hands.
Reece looked up at her in confusion and asked, “Marjorie, what is this?”
Marjorie just held up her hand and said, “Just open it, please. Will you, darling?” He carefully opened the wrapping paper and found a plush toy of a knight. He looked up at Marjorie in confusion. “Just read it.” Following her instructions, Reece took a closer look at the knight toy and found that the tunic had been embroidered with the words “Baby Knight.”
Reece repeated the words soundlessly several times before he understood what Marjorie was trying to tell him. “You’re…?” Marjorie nodded.
“Yeah,” Marjorie replied, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Really?” Marjorie could only nod as tears streamed down her face. Reece dropped the toy and wrapped his arms around his wife – his wife who was carrying his child. He twirled her around as tears spilled down his face too. Reece had never thought the day would come when he would be happy, when he would be married to the love of his life and yet here, he was – the “worthless” son, finally happy, holding his wife and child in his arms. He pressed his lips to hers, her hand on his cheek. Their lips stayed connected as the whole world faded away and all that was left was this moment – this wonderful Christmas morning and the light of a beautiful future ahead.
The Knights were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Majorie in her 'kerchief, and Reece in his cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Reece sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
Autumn and Winter
Autumn smiled at her husband as he passed her an outfit for Dorian. She rolled her eyes at the garish colors as she dressed her son in the elf onesie Marjorie had bought for him. Winter was dressing Emery in a matching reindeer onesie (also purchased by Auntie Marjorie against Autumn’s wishes). “My sweet, when we go downstairs, we should open up the present my brother brought over last night.”
“Oh yes, we should, my love! How lovely of Reece to fill the twins’ box up with presents.”
“Yes… lovely,” Autumn grumbled. “As though we need more of him around the house.”
“Oh, you know you love it, Autumn. You enjoy having him around, just as much as the twins do.”
“Yes, I will admit I do,” she agreed begrudgingly. “But you can never tell him I said that. He would get far too much joy out of that.”
“Ah siblings,” Winter said, carrying his daughter out of the room. “I so hope our children have a relationship just like yours.”
A few minutes later, Autumn joined the pair at the kitchen table with Dorian in her arms. She sat down on a chair and propped him on her lap as Winter walked out of the kitchen, Emery in one hand and her favorite omelet in the other. “Your breakfast, my love,” Winter said, placing the plate in front of her. Winter joined her on the adjacent chair, his bowl of oatmeal in front of him. He propped Emery on his lap as he smiled at his wife, a drop of oatmeal on his lips. Autumn lovingly rolled her eyes as she leaned forward and swiped it away with her thumb, licking it off. Their breakfast was a silent, but light affair – accompanied by the sounds of silverware against plates and laughter as both Fortune-Knight twins grunted and pulled at their festive outfits. “I guess they take after their mother,” Winter laughed.
“Mama!” Dorain exclaimed excitedly.
“That’s right, my darling boy. That’s mama.” He smiled at the sight of his wife holding their son. Winter never thought he would experience a Christmas like this one – a quiet morning with his wife and children, enjoying a happy meal before they headed off to join their extended family for a trip to the local Christmas village.
As Autumn finished eating, Winter leaned over and tickled Emery’s stomach, drawing a fit of giggles from her. “My sweet,” Autumn said, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Winter looked up at her, still tickling Emery. “We should open the presents my brother brought over before we head to theirs.”
Once breakfast was over, they all sat on the floor by the tree as Winter pulled the twins’ box closer, pausing for a moment to admire the intricate woodwork on the lid and the carefully hand painted names in the middle. He slid the box over to his wife, who accepted it with a small smile, the one she reserved just for him. She unlatched the lid and opened it, revealing several books and two large envelopes. Autumn pulled them out of the box and flipped them over, examining the blank packets curiously as she tried to figure out what was inside. Winter bounced a giggling Dorian on his leg as Autumn opened one of the envelopes. She carefully removed the certificate inside and gasped as her eyes roamed the page. Winter looked at her with confused as she quickly opened the other envelope. “What is it, my love?” Autumn wordlessly handed the papers to Winter and pulled Emery onto her lap as Winter’s eyes bulged. “That is so Reece,” he laughed after a few moments of silence. In his hands, he held two certificates, each bearing his children’s names and…
Name a Star
Certificate of Recognition
Be it known that star number FK-D-25 shall henceforth be named
Dorian
Merry Christmas to my favorite nephew – Uncle Reece and Aunt Marjorie
--
Name a Star
Certificate of Recognition
Be it known that star number FK-E-25 shall henceforth be named
Emery
Merry Christmas to my favorite niece – Uncle Reece and Aunt Marjorie
--
Winter smiled as he handed the certificates back to Autumn who gently placed them in the box atop the two stuffed baseball bats inside. He laughed as his wife pulled out the toy bats and handed one to each twin. “Like mother, like children,” he mused as Dorian started waving the bat around with what could only be described as a truly gleeful expression on his face. The couple locked eyes with each other and burst out laughing at the sight. “We’re definitely going to need to watch out for him around bats, my love. I fear he takes after his mother.”
“Don’t worry, my sweet. I’ll teach him how to practice responsible batting,” Autumn said with a proud look (and concerningly mischievous) on her face.
“That is exactly what I am afraid of, my love.”
The stars on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to Autumn’s wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
Winter knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONNER and BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
Charlotte and Mia
Charlotte woke up blearily eyed and content, far later than she was used to rising on a Christmas morning. But this year there were no excited, over eager children begging for mom to open her eyes because Santa had come the night before. No, this year there were only her girlfriend’s arms and the quiet sounds of snoring. All the chaos of unwrapping presents had already happened and the aftermath was awaiting them downstairs, but that was for later. Now was for relaxing and enjoying a peaceful Christmas morning while her girls enjoyed the holiday with their father. She smiled softly to herself knowing they were having a wonderful time with their other parent.
The brunette quietly slipped out of bed, leaving Mia asleep in the tangle of blankets, and headed for the shower. She let the steam wash over her, humming “Jingle Bells” as she shampooed. With her hair rinsed, Charlotte just stood under the hot water when she heard the bathroom door open and heard Mia say, “Sweetheart, I’m putting some coffee on. Do you want me to make you anything for breakfast before we tackle the clean up?”
“Just some toast please! Thank you, Mia!” Twenty minutes later, Charlotte came downstairs to find Mia nursing a mug of coffee at their dining room table and a plate with toast, a mug of coffee (just the way she likes it), and some butter waiting for her. Breakfast was silent as sleep still clouded the edges of their senses and they simply basked in each other’s company. Fifteen minutes later, Mia smiled softly as Charlotte collected her mug alongside her own dishes and went to the sink. As the brunette hummed along, elbow deep in suds, the redhead quietly strode into the kitchen and pressed herself against Charlotte’s back, arms instinctively snaking around the brunette’s waist, the redhead’s chin on Charlotte’s shoulder. Mia pressed a quick kiss to Charlotte’s cheek and half-sang, half-whispered, “Allll IIII want for Christmas iiissss yyyooouuuu.”
Charlotte lovingly rolled her eyes and muttered, “Goof.”
“Your goof,” Mia replied, kissing Charlotte’s cheek again before releasing her hold on the other woman’s waist. As Charlotte finished up the dishes, Mia cleared some of the lingering items still left out after breakfast and wiped down the table. With all the other chores done, the two women stepped into the living room and stared at the mess of wrapping paper they had been desperately trying to avoid thinking about all morning. Mia sighed and look at Charlotte. “I’ll get the trash bag and you get the broom?” The brunette nodded wordlessly and turned on her heel, walking back into the kitchen. Charlotte returned a minute later with a broom in one hand and a large black trash bag in the other. She handed the bag to Mia and walked into the living room. For 15 minutes, Mia picked up every large bit of gift wrap that she could find, picking up ribbons and bows, shoving them all into the bag as it grew fuller and fuller. Meanwhile, Charlotte swept up any smaller bits of paper and anything else left on the floor.
With all the clean up finally done, Charlotte plugged the Christmas tree back in and settled onto the couch with a sigh. She pulled a throw blanket over her lap as she admired the lights twinkling. Two large glasses of eggnog being passed to her pulled Charlotte out of her reverie. “Movie time?” she asked excitedly.
“Movie time,” Mia replied with a nod. The redhead lit the fireplace, smiling softly as the soft amber light filled the room. She turned off the lights as she grabbed a remote and sank onto the couch next to her girlfriend. She gratefully took the glass of eggnog from Charlotte and turned on the TV. “Now close your eyes,” Mia said with a gleeful, mischievous grin.
Charlotte did as she was told, grumbling, “You better not be turning on Die Hard. It is not a Christmas movie.”
“It is so a Christmas movie,” Mia insisted, scrolling through the offerings across their various streaming services.
“It is not.”
“It is! Aut agrees with me.”
“Well, forgive me if I don’t really intend to take either of your opinions of Christmas movies into account,” Charlotte muttered, rolling her eyes. Mia laughed and kissed her temple, draping an arm over her shoulders.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” Charlotte cautiously opened her eyes, instantly perking up and smiling as she recognized the opening credits.
“IIIIIII’mmmm dreaminggg of aaa White Christmassss…” Mia had put on White Christmas – their favorite Christmas movie. The redhead smiled as she looked at her girlfriend and gently captured her lips in a kiss. All she could think about was how next Christmas, there would be a ring on Charlotte’s finger and they would be one step closer to a trip to the altar.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, Mia heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As Char drew in her head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
Clodagh and Sorscha
Clodagh smiled as she bounced baby Quinn on her lap, watching her wife as she buzzed around the kitchen like a chaotic bee in an attempt to get breakfast together. Sorscha was generally very good about keeping a level head, but with this being the first Christmas Quinn might actually vaguely recall, she was the picture of Christmasy stress. The redhead flipped pancakes like her life depended on their golden-brown exterior. “Babe,” Clodagh called.
“Yeah, darlin’?” Sorscha responded, her back still turned as she eyed the pancakes on the pan like the enemy they surely were not.
“You know that the pancakes can’t hurt you, right?”
“Well, yes, I know that!” Sorscha responded, spinning around on her heel, spatula waving. “But she might actually remember this Christmas! And I remember how much I enjoyed the breakfasts my mam used to make – I just want to recreate that for her.” Clodagh stood, adjusting Quinn on her hip before walking over to her increasingly frazzled wife.
“So, here’s what we’re going to do…,” Clodagh said as she wrapped her hand around the spatula. She attempted to pull it out of the other woman’s grasp, but Sorscha just tightened her grip and glared at her wife. “Sorscha, give me the spatula.”
“No.”
“Sorscha.” With a sigh, she released the spatula. Clodagh smiled and said, “Thank you,” before continuing. “You’re going to take Quinn and sit down.” Sorscha opened her mouth to protest, but Clodagh just held up the spatula and uncurled her fingers. Sorscha’s mouth snapped shut.
“Sorscha, take your child and go sit down before the pancakes burn and you stress yourself out into an early grave.” The redhead did as she was told and cooed at her daughter as she left the kitchen.
“I like it when you’re bossy,” Sorscha laughed.
“Yes, I am well aware, love.”
Fifteen minutes later, Clodagh set a steaming plate piled high with pancakes on the table as Quinn babbled excitedly in her high chair and Sorscha set the table. “Thank you, darling,” Sorscha said, smiling as Clodagh passed her the syrup. “I can’t wait to open presents with her today,” the redhead mused as she cut up pancakes for their daughter.
“Neither can I,” Clodagh replied as she watched her daughter kick her feet and sing a song to herself as she waited for her food. “I’m just enjoying one of the last Christmas mornings we’ll have without being woken up at the crack of dawn by a very excited toddler.”
Sorscha grunted as she set the pancakes in front of Quinn. “Please don’t remind me.” Breakfast went by quickly as the two women dug into their pancakes, occasionally stopping to wipe syrup off of Quinn’s increasingly sticky face and hands. “See I knew giving her syrup was a bad idea… and yet I did it anyway. You would think I would know better. Apparently not.”
Clodagh leveled an unamused look at Sorscha, who only shrugged and shook her head in response. She stood and kissed the top of Sorscha’s head. “If this is the worst mistake we make as parents, I think we’ll be alright.” After breakfast was over, Clodagh cleared the table while Sorscha took Quinn upstairs to wash off the sticky breakfast remnants on her face and hands.
They all sat on the floor and watched as Quinn ripped away the wrapping paper hiding her gifts, gleefully playing with the teddy bear she found in the second box. Clodagh and Sorscha smiled at each other and admired the family they had built for themselves and wondered how long they would be finding scraps of wrapping paper for. They found that neither of them really cared all that much as long as Quinn was happy. The giggles echoing through the room told them all they needed to know.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
Siobhan and Vivian
Siobhan and Vivian sat at the breakfast table, sipping coffee from their mugs and watching Jamie play with the new racecars he had gotten for Christmas. Siobhan softly smiled to herself each time she looked at the mug cradled in her hands. Her thumb traced the letters on the mug Vivian had given her this morning – a new addition to their collection, one chosen specifically for her. The words “Chaos Coordinator” were written in swirly blue letters on the white ceramic and Siobhan couldn’t help but think about exactly how accurate that is. Between workplace fires (literal and metaphorical), unique employees, and the annual nativity disaster, Siobhan certainly felt like a chaos coordinator. Maybe she would get that printed on some business cards.
“Did you get them?” Vivian asked over the rim of her mug.
Siobhan arched an eyebrow and drawled, “Of course. Can’t have a Christmas celebration without them now, can we?” She stood wordlessly and reached into the cupboard over the coffee maker. She returned with three boxes stacked high in her arms, each bearing the words “Gingerbread House Kit.” Siobhan placed the boxes on the table and wrapped her arms around Vivian’s shoulders. They both watched Jamie play with his racecars and enjoyed the joyous din of another family Christmas. “Are you ready?” Siobhan whispered in Vivian’s ear. The brunette nodded.
“Jamie?” Vivian called. Their son immediately looked up from his cars with a curious expression on his face.
“Is it time?” the young boy asked.
“It is!”
“YYYEESSSSS!” Jamie shouted, dropping his cars and running over to the table.
Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen table was transformed into Gingerbread House Central. Bowls of candy covered the table, cookie pieces were piled by each decorating station, bags of icing were placed around the table. Each member of the Serpent-Clarke family took their places at their designated stations as Vivian looked around the table with a grave expression. “You all know the rules,” she began. “You can decorate your house however you would like. You may use anything on the table. You have one hour. Let the 2nd annual Gingerbread House Games BEGIN!” She announced as she used a remote to turn on their favorite Christmas playlist. “May the odds ever be in our favor!”
“Viv!” Siobhan scolded. “You cannot make a Hunger Games reference in front of our 5-year-old,” she whisper-yelled at her wife.
“I got a little carried away,” Vivian said with a shrug of her shoulders. For the next hour, as Christmas music filled the room, flowing over them as they worked on Gingerbread masterpieces, Siobhan, Vivian, and Jamie iced and decorated, constructed and glued, arranged and ornamented. Jamie’s house had a roof covered in gumdrops as Vivian created a rustic cottage with a wreath made of green Smarties and Siobhan assembled an ornate, but colorful mansion. Soon, the playlist was over and the timer rang out as their hour was over. Each member of the family was covered in frosting, stepping back to admire their masterpieces.
“It’s time to judge the contest and to make things fair, I have decided to bring in some third-party judges,” Viv announced. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, quickly opening Facetime and selecting the right contact. The ringing and contact photo were quickly replaced by warm voices and happy smiles “Hello mum and dad! Happy Christmas!”
“Hello, Viv! How’s our favorite grandson?”
“He’s doing great, mum. In fact, we just finished our gingerbread house building and were hoping you could judge the winner for us.”
“We would love to!” Viv quickly flipped the camera around and immediately began giving her parents a quick explanation of the rules and showed off every house from every angle. Her parents ooh’ed and ah’ed at all the houses, commenting on the various design choices. Once they had seen all the houses, Viv’s dad announced, “We, the jury, have come to a decision,” in a formal voice. Viv and Siobhan gently laughed and rolled their eyes at how seriously he was taking this. “The winner is…,” he announced, projecting his voice. Viv’s mom very helpfully added a drum roll by drumming her fingers against the table. “Jamie!”
“Woo! Look at you go, Jamie!” Viv cheered.
“Good job, Jamie!” Siobhan smiled. Everyone cheered for Jamie as he blushed and then unabashedly plucked a gumdrop from his house. The adults all laughed at his antics as he reached for Viv’s phone to run off and talk to his grandparents. Once he had the phone in his hand, Jamie ran off to show off his Christmas parents as the two women watched, marveling at the loving family they created.
INT. LARGE VICTORIAN LIVING ROOM WITH BLAZING FIREPLACE AND CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS ALL AROUND THE ROOM
The figure shuts the book closed and rests it on their lap. They take off their glasses and cast a brief glance at the fire. And so, ends our brief glance into the lives of our favorite couples as they enjoy a lovely Christmas together. The figure stands and carefully puts the book back onto the shelf. They pick up a snow globe and give it a shake, watching as the snow swirls and settles, smiling to themselves.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!