Starlight

XV: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Someday soon we will be together
If the fates allow
Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

- 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas', Meet Me In St. Louis

xx.xx

"Merry Christmas, darling."

Robbie awoke nested in the swath of plush duvets and pillows that her partner insisted upon piling on their bed every day. She stretched, the cotton fresh upon her skin, cool and comfortable.

"Mm, merry Christmas." She craned her neck upward so their lips could meet, and she smiled into the kiss. "Also - 'darling'? That's a new one."

"Well..." Henry kissed her again, somehow softer and more tender than it had been before, and sat down next to her, smoothing out the sheet. "If I'd had my way, we'd be the same age and we would have met years ago. I've got decades of pet-names saved up. I need to make up for lost time."

She gazed into his eyes, his playful, boyish smile warning her of what was coming next. He hovered above her then, ready to pounce, and Robbie's entire body seized up in anticipation. Then he came down, poking her in the sides, furiously and relentlessly tickling her arms and neck, laughing all the while.

"Henry, stop!" she squealed between giggles, short of breath, kicking her legs and laughing until it hurt. "Henry!"

"Robbie?"

"Henryyy... Stop it..." Her fake protestations faded out with a last few giggles, legs twitching, the image fading.

"Oh my god. Gross." Finn poked her in the stomach, hard, and she sat bolt upright. She was in his childhood bedroom bundled in a sleeping bag and, as she was realizing with a tidal wave of embarrassment, had been talking in her sleep.

His eyes were wild with sheer disgust. "Um... Were you having a sex dream just now?"

"No. No! Why would you even ask that?" She wiped sweat from her forehead, pulling her bird-nest of hair into the messiest of pony-tails, simply to get the frizz out of her eyes.

"Because," Robbie whipped around to see a young blonde woman leaning in Finn's doorway, arms crossed and face entirely enthused: his younger sister, Poppy. "You kept moaning the name Henry."

Robbie began to splutter out a reply, but before she could do so, Finn decided to chime in with his ever-present opinion: "I definitely think you were having a sex dream."

"And who's Henry?" Poppy sauntered into the room, still in her PJs, and flopped down onto the bed. "Is he hot?"

"Okay listen. He is not hot and I was not having a sex dream." Finn narrowed his eyes, wordlessly questioning Robbie's denial. She decided to tell the complete truth: "I was having a dream about him. But it was just... sweet."

Finn pretended to heave, Poppy looked all the more confused. "A romantic dream?" He scowled. "Honestly a sex dream would've been way less gross."

"So I guess I'll ask again... Who's Henry?" Poppy was in her early twenties, and was currently studying theatre at a university on the other side of the country: the whole family was full of theatre buffs. Given that today was Christmas Eve, Robbie would be spending the next few days with her, Finn, their mom, and their cousin Amelia (among others) in their family home in Clivesdale.

She flopped down on the bed next to Finn, who began to smirk. "He's a professor. Professor Hidgens. They're writing a show together."

"Ooooooh, really? And you like him? Romantic." Poppy sighed, clearly excited by the prospect. "That could be the plot of a musical all in itself - a young ingenue brought into the world of the theatre by a kindly professor? It's basically Phantom of the Opera mixed with Little Women!"