12 + 1 Days of Christmas (A Very Syverson Christmas)

Bonus: Boxing Day

The house is blessedly quiet when you get back from playing "Mum's taxi". You had dropped Tilly and Pippa at the train station, they were going to the city for Boxing Day sales with their mates and Mitch and Bindi you took to your brother's house, for a day at the beach with their cousins. It wasn't completely silent though, the sounds of leather on willow and the sedate commentary of the Ashes Test Match flowed through the house.

You pause at the doorway to your open plan lounge room and kitchen and take a moment to appreciate your husband. In the last nearly twenty years he had changed so much. Still an extremely handsome man with a strong burly body, thick and heavy arms and legs with a soft belly that always warm and inviting. His hair and beard were nearly all grey now, the wrinkles around his eyes were there even when he wasn't smiling, and he wasn't quite as spritely as he used to be. And yet, you loved him more now than you had twenty years ago.

Sy hadn't just undergone a physical change. Although he would always be an American, his embrace of Australia was both charming and funny. To see him sit and watch five days of cricket was something you never would have believed possible when you first got together. And his wardrobe... You bite your lip so as not to laugh at his tiny footy shorts and Bintang singlet he got while on holiday in Bali a couple of summers ago.

"Grab us beer wouldja, Sugar," Sy says, breaking you out of your daydreams. You shouldn't be surprised he knew you were there, he always knew when you were watching him. He looks at you with his uncoordinated wink, and you smile.

"Get it yourself you bludger," you tell him, but you're already on your way to the fridge. When you hand him his beer, he grabs hold of your wrist.

"What're ya starin' at?" Sy grins. He knows what you're staring at, and he reflects the heated look you're giving him.

"You look like such a bogan right now."

"You're bein' cheeky li'l cunt, aintcha?" Sy puts his hands on your hips and brings you to stand in front of him. "I know ya think I'm hot in these shorts."

"Bugger off." You climb on top of him, straddling his legs.

"Come on, Baby. Lemme see your Map o' Tassie." Sy lifts your skirt a little, smirking at his vulgarity.

You press your lips together trying not to laugh. "Now who's being a cheeky cunt?"

Sy groans and rolls his hips under you, "I love it when you get all..."

You're both distracted by the sound of the tv. The unmistakable sound of wickets being hit by the ball. You turn quickly and Sy pokes his head around you as you get confirmation a wicket has fallen.

"Got him! Yeah! Fuckin' Pommies," he says and your head whips around to his. "What?" he asks.

You shake your head. "You are such a dag," you tell him. "I love you."