Stenbrough Nights

|Shot 98| • Stanny Baby • |Stenbrough|

I miss Christmas

Also, I'm sorry I'm uploading this so late, I've been really tired and stressed ~Jae👑

° ° ° °

BILL'S POV

I set the record player on the counter and ran to our room to go through my Christmas records. A few seconds later, I heard Stan's soothing voice shout up at me.

"Babe? They're gonna be here in about an hour! Could you come help me?"

I smiled slyly as I picked up my favourite record.

"Coming!" I answered joyfully.

I all but skipped downstairs, record in hand, and made my way to the kitchen and stood in front of the record player. I blew the needle and set the record in place.

It slowly started playing the old record as it spun around and the sweet lively melody filled the kitchen.

I danced around the kitchen humming the song as Stan glanced at me.

"Alright, you goof, can you lend me a hand now, please?" he chuckled.

I laughed and kissed his cheek.

"Sure, Stanny baby" I hummed in his ear and have him a playful pat on his ass.

Stan scoffed playfully as I helped him with Dinner. The Losers would be here in an hour or so, so I gave Stan a hand whenever he asked.

Of course, why not have a little fun with my baby while he cooks? Just to ease the tension.

I started to prepare the house, adding decorations and helping Stan bake. But every time I walked past Stan, I hummed Santa Baby and playfully patted his ass.

"Stanny Baby" I hummed in his ear with each pass.

With each pat and hum, I could feel him tense up. He was getting completely flustered and couldn't focus on cooking.

STAN'S POV

"Stanny Baby" Bill sang in my ear and pat my ass.

Usually, I wouldn't mind so much. But every. Single. Time. Bill passed me, he'd sing in my ear and hum that damn song as he pat my ass.

I love him, but right now I was trying to focus on cooking dinner, and Bill was getting me so frustrated.

By the tenth time he went past me, I growled and grabbed a handful of flour.

"Babe, will you knock it off?!" I groaned, and without thinking, threw flour at him.

The only sound next was the sound of the record playing. My mouth in an o shape, Bill's wide eyes went from his flour covered shirt to me.

A grin quickly grew on his lips, and he threw flour at me in return. I scoffed, but smiled and threw batter at him.

In retaliation, he threw an egg, and it went back and forth like that until the entire kitchen was messy and our bodies were covered in ingredients.