Christmas Varchie Oneshots

Part 1.

There’s something simply lovely about burrowing deeply into a down comforter in a king sized bed, large pillows creating a little piece of tranquility to block out the harsh world. Veronica tucks the blankets in around her neck as she curls up in the fetal position, not yet ready to face the sunshine coming through the windows. Archie was out of bed when the sun woke up, and their dog joined her to lay on the foot of the bed a little while ago, but she’s ready to keep making this Sunday morning a lazy one. 

“Good Morning, Ronnie.”

Not quite ready to give into the disturbance in her snoozing, she peaks one eye open, the one not smushed into a pillow, to stare at him standing there next to the bed. He’s never woken her up early on a Sunday before, content to let her roll around in their big bed while he catches up on other things, and the sheepish grin on his face gets her thoughts running and her head lifting.

“You did something bad, I can feel it.” She shifts up to her elbows to properly stare him down.

He hides his hands behind his back to stop from fidgeting. “No, not something bad. Just maybe something a little over the top.”

She falls back into her pillow kingdom with a sigh. If it’s anything like the garden gnome disaster of last spring, she deserves a few more minutes of peace.

“Come look?”

“Right now?”

“Please?” He sounds excited instead of apologetic, so she’s hoping it’s not a complete disaster, whatever it is. Throwing the comforter back, she shifts to sit on the side of the bed, watching as her faithful pup gets up and rushes to grab her slippers, delivering first one than the other to her, something Archie spent weeks teaching him so that Veronica didn’t have the heart to tell him she didn’t really want dog slobber on her soft fur booties. With a pat on the head to the dog, she slips them on and stands up, preparing herself. 

Archie steps back and gestures for her to exit the bedroom in front of him, earning him an eye roll. 

“Oh, this better be good.”

She doesn’t know where she should be going, but assumingely proceeds to the main living space, the dog hurrying out in front of her down the hall. 

Archie covers her eyes with his hands before she gets to the end, causing her to abruptly stop and reach up with her own to steady herself. 

“Really?”

He laughs in her ear, pushes one of her legs forward with his to keep her moving while she keeps her hands around his wrists. 

“Stop. Turn.” She lets him guide her where he wants her, his chest coming up to meet her back before his hands pull away from her face and descend to her waist, curling around her as he says, “Ta-Da!”

She blinks a few times, disoriented and disbelieving. 

“Since we can’t have a real one in the building, I thought twelve fake ones would be a good substitute.”

Twelve, then. Because at first she wasn’t sure how many trees were currently in their living room, lining the walls like statutes, fitting into every available space, and dwarfing the furniture. There are cardboard boxes everywhere, packing papers strewn across the hardwood floor and all over the couches, and she watches as the dog tramples over a pile of them, spinning around twice before settling himself down into the mess.

“I’m going back to bed.”