Festive One Shots

All I Want For Christmas Is You

"Stay," Harry warns, holding his finger up at the canine sitting patiently before him. Chester's bum wiggles and his tail scratches excitedly against the floor, a soft whine following that's barely audible. "Ah! Stay..."

The black spaniel gruffs again in retort, but sits still as a statue from that point onwards.

Harry folds his arms across his chest as he studies the animal with a little scrutiny. It's true, the Springer looks ridiculous - tail wrapped in tinsel, comedy reindeer antlers meant for tiny humans fastened to his narrow head, and a bright red nose pinched to the end of his snout. That had been the most difficult to fasten, given how reluctant Chester had been to partake in his owner's plan to begin with.

The tinsel was bought on purpose - not stolen out of the decoration box when they were heaved from the scary attic on the 1st December, because they needed to be specific. Harry couldn't have his plan go smoothly if the tinsel was dangling from Chester's tail midway through their journey like a scarf blowing off in the wind. It was wire - manipulated so that the dog couldn't shake it off, even if he wanted to.

"Good boy," Harry says proudly, unmoving. "Now, listen to me, mate - this is a real last ditch effort at this, and it's all on you. I've tried one too many times, and it's getting embarrassing, so if you fuck this up for me I'm gonna have to wait another six months before I can find the right time to ask."

The dog stares at him, remaining motionless and silent.

Harry sighs deeply, pulling the little box out of his pocket and presenting it to the dog. He would've done better with a stress ball after the amount of times he's tried to plan this damn thing. He shouldn't blame you, but in a way he does. You're not the easiest person to try and propose to.

You don't like a fuss. For as long as he can remember, you've always maintained that a big, extravagant and over the top proposal is not something you'd even consider entertaining. You also don't like clichés. If you found a ring in your dessert, or in the bottom of your glass, you'd call him unoriginal. If he did it in front of anyone, you'd run away with embarrassment, though in all honesty, you've never seen him to be that kind of person anyway. You said once that if there were any grand gestures of any kind before he popped the question, you would probably say no.

His first attempt had been early one morning about a month ago. He'd planned to wake earlier than you, make breakfast for you to be served in bed - one of your favourite Sunday morning traditions -, and ask you after you'd eaten. And he did get so far - he woke earlier, he made breakfast, and served it in bed. Except, you'd had a bad night's sleep again, and around him fishing for the jewellery box and you moving your tray out of the way, somehow, your elbow had connected with his nose. He spent the morning bent over the bathroom sink fighting a nosebleed.

The next attempt was a little more daring. Well, only a bit more. An afternoon walk in the park with Chester on a very sunny but very cold day. You'd been wrapped up in layer upon layer - your favourite scarf hiding your face up to your bright red nose, your heavy, floral Doc Martens peeking beneath dark denim flared dungarees, and a cream woolly bobble hat to finish your ensemble. You'd stolen his gloves on your way out, too. He was nervous to ask you in a park because there was a chance that someone might see. He thought that after his first try, though, there might be less room for casualty. But he was wrong. Someone nearby tripped over and broke their ankle, and you being you, were the first person to run across the grass and offer your help, even if you were not in the best condition to be doing so.

And finally, his most recent attempt had been the worst. He'd planned a nice dinner - your favourite meal in the comfort of your own home, followed by your favourite film as you lay spread across the sofa like two teenagers with no boundaries. Except you were wildly uncomfortable after eating, soon to discover a reaction to something, leaving you cradling the toilet pan for the remainder of the night. You've spent too much time on the bathroom floor recently, and you were in no mood to do anything other than sleep once you peeled yourself away from the toilet.