Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

My Love •|| MARJUMN ||•

Prompt: Autumn and Marjorie spending their first Christmas together.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the bedroom. Autumn was already awake, her long red hair tied loosely back as she tiptoed around the room. Marjorie was still fast asleep, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, one arm flung dramatically over her face.

Autumn chuckled to herself at the sight. She leaned down, planting a light kiss on Marjorie’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, sleepyhead,” she whispered before slipping out the door.

The house was quiet as Autumn moved to the kitchen. She tied an apron around her waist and began gathering ingredients. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and even a small pot of hot chocolate—she wanted this breakfast to be perfect.

She worked quickly and efficiently, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, humming softly to herself as she plated the food. A sprig of holly on the tray added a festive touch, and she smiled with satisfaction as she carried it back to the bedroom.

Marjorie stirred at the sound of the door opening, groaning dramatically. “Autumn, if this is you waking me up to clean or something, I’m filing for divorce before we’re even married,” she mumbled.

Autumn laughed as she set the tray down on the bedside table. “Relax, Grinch. It’s Christmas morning, not a chore list.”

Marjorie peeked out from under the blanket and sat up, her eyes widening at the sight of the tray. “Wait… did you make all this? For me?”

“Well, it’s not for the Caddie,” Autumn teased, sitting down beside her.

Marjorie grinned, her cheeks flushing. “You’re amazing, you know that? My idea of breakfast is… toast. Burnt toast.”

“I’ve seen your ‘cooking.’ You’re banned from the kitchen for life,” Autumn said, handing her a fork.

They ate together, Marjorie savoring every bite while Autumn stole sips of her hot chocolate. They laughed over memories of disastrous Christmases past—like the year Marjorie set fire to a tea towel trying to roast chestnuts.

When breakfast was finished, they moved to the living room, where the Christmas tree sparkled with lights.

“I’ll go first,” Marjorie announced, handing Autumn a neatly wrapped gift.

Autumn opened it to reveal a leather-bound journal with her initials embossed on the cover. Inside, Marjorie had written a short note on the first page: For all your plans, thoughts, and everything else you don’t say out loud. I hope this helps you let them out.

Autumn stared at the page for a moment before looking up at Marjorie. “You’re unbelievable,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “This is… I love it.”

Marjorie shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “You’re hard to shop for, okay?”

Autumn smirked, wiping at her eyes before handing Marjorie her own gift. “Your turn.”

Marjorie tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a hand-painted ornament with the words “Our First Christmas” written in delicate script. It featured a little cartoon version of them holding hands in front of a snowy house.

Marjorie’s mouth fell open. “Did you… did you make this?”

Autumn nodded, suddenly shy. “Yeah. Thought we could hang it up every year, you know?”

Marjorie didn’t say anything. She just leaned over and kissed Autumn, holding her close. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she murmured.

Autumn’s lips curved into a smile. “Right back at you.”

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

Later that afternoon, the snow was falling in thick, soft flakes outside the window. Marjorie was peering out, her face lit up like a child’s.

“Aut, come on, let’s go play in it!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing.

Autumn groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “Marjorie, it’s cold. And wet. Snow isn’t fun; it’s a weather hazard.”

Marjorie pouted, turning to her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please? Just for a little while? I promise it’ll be fun.”

Autumn sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I’m about to say yes to this.”

The next thing she knew, Marjorie had dragged her outside, laughing as she scooped up handfuls of snow. Autumn trudged behind her, muttering under her breath about frostbite.

But as soon as Marjorie hit her with a snowball, Autumn’s competitive side kicked in. “Oh, you’re dead,” she declared, scooping up her own snow and launching it at Marjorie.

Laughter echoed through the air as the two of them chased each other around the yard, Marjorie’s giggles mixing with Autumn’s begrudging laughter. By the time they collapsed into the snow, breathless and red-faced, Autumn had to admit—Marjorie was right.

“Okay,” Autumn said, brushing snow off her coat. “That wasn’t terrible.”

Marjorie grinned, leaning over to kiss her nose. “See? I told you. I always make things fun.”

Autumn rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” Marjorie teased, pulling her back toward the house, where hot chocolate and the warmth of the fire awaited.

As the snow fell quietly outside, Autumn couldn’t help but feel like this was the best Christmas she’d ever had.