Friends: Christmas

Part 10

You prop your chin on your hand as you sit at the dining room table, Chris sitting beside you as his mother bustles back and forth to the kitchen, refusing to let either of you help; she'd basically condemned the two of you to the table.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" you call.

"Yup! Just sit there, you two!"

You sigh, and frown as you lean back.

She shouldn't have to be cooking a last minute dinner.

Really, the three of you should be at your mothers house, eating Christmas Eve dinner together and not worrying or bickering like you were.

It was what your families had always done.

Until you'd had to go and ruin it.

And you had.

Royally.

You glance over at Chris, seeing him shifting nervously in his seat, looking like he couldn't sit still no matter how hard he tried. He kept tapping his fingers, adjusting his weight - even shuffling the silverware around and earning dirty looks from his mother.

You couldn't imagine what he was so nervous about.

You nudge his shoulder with your own, making him glance over at you.

"What's with the shifting?" you ask, gazing at him, aware that your eyes were tired; you'd applied some make up so it didn't look like you'd barely slept and had been moping all day, and you'd taken the time to braid your hair down your shoulder and dress in the outfit you'd intended to wear.

You looked the part of Christmas cheer.

You just didn't feel it anymore.

You hadn't felt the Christmas spirit in a long time, you'd just been going through the motions.

"What do you mean?" he asks, leaning back in his chair and mirroring your stance, his hands landing on his knees.

You narrow your eyes.

"You're all nervous," you say, tilting your head slightly. "What for?"

"I'm just - excited for you to open your presents," he responds, giving you his best smile. "I think you're going to like them."

"Of course I will," you agree, but don't stop frowning. "I just don't...."

"Dinner's ready!"

You both look over as his mother steps into the dining room, and your brows raise as you see the ham she sits in the middle of the table.

She'd been cooking all day, getting everything prepared last minute, and you'd offered to help several times but had been blown off. She didn't like others helping her in her kitchen, she was just one of those people.

And so you and Chris had watched the holiday specials all afternoon.

Well, mostly.

You'd kind of napped through a lot of it.

Which he always didn't seem to mind, even when it was on top of him and parts of his body went numb.

He was just a good guy like that.

You reach over absently, squeezing his hand and giving him a smile that he quickly returns.

You love Chris to death, you really do.

"This looks amazing," you say, glancing at the spread his mother has. "I don't see how you cooked so much in so little time!"

"It's a talent," his mother chuckles as she sits down across from you. "Acquired from many years of emergency band practices and friends suddenly popping up. I always have plenty of food in the freezer for just in case!"