Santa's Slay [Sleepy Hollow #Fanficfriday #Holiday]

Nightmare Before Christmas

"Trust me when I say that you have nothing to fear. The apocalypse didn't kill you and neither will this. You and I are in the same camp here, I won't judge you. Now come out here."

Slow and warm, Christmas music played over the snap of a roaring fire. A gust of wind shuddered the cabin, caking the windows with more snow.

At Abbie's request Ichabod, gangly legs nearly tripping over a box of spare Christmas decorations, came rounding the corner.

Abbie choked at the sight of him, doubling over with laughter.

"You look precious."

"I look utterly ridiculous," he said, raising his arms, triggering the lights on his ugly sweater and throwing Abbie into another fit of laughter.

The lights weren't even the best part of it. The sweater itself read 'jingle my bells' in bold white letters. There were two golden bells resting inappropriately on his chest, inviting you to do so.

"We all do, that's the point," said Abbie, tugging on the red nose of the felt Rudolph protruding from her own sweater. "Where's your Christmas spirit, Crane?"

He rolled his sharp blue eyes.

"Respectfully, where my dignity is."

The sweaters had been an early Christmas gift from Abbie's younger sister. Jenny Mills had left hours ago to run an errand, wearing her own monstrosity of a sweater. She was missing something momentous.

Abbie slipped her phone out of her pocket, having the mind to take a picture and send it to Jenny but she FaceTimed her instead.

"Abbie, is something wrong?" Jenny said, already in warrior mode. She was surrounded by flashing lights and a loud gathering of people.

"No, just the opposite."

At the sound of Jenny's voice, Ichabod waltzed over to where Abbie was sitting, peering over her shoulder a little too closely.

"What is this, one of those recorded messages?"

"No--" Abbie grunted, trying to untangle her hair from the lights on his sweater. "Say hi."

"Yes, just as soon as I uncover how you have managed to trap Miss Jenny in your  cellular device."

He rotated the phone this way and that like a toddler, tapping the screen.

"Looking good, Ichabod," said, Jenny, giving him a thumbs up.

"Nice try, Miss Jenny, but your efforts to placate me fall on deaf ears."

Abbie reached up and plucked the phone from his thin fingers.

"Please tell me that is not Mariah Carey I'm hearing," Abbie groaned jokingly, referring to the music blasting on Jenny's end.

"Hey, 'All I Want For Christmas is You' is a holiday staple," she said defensively as Ichabod leaned over the phone with hands clasped behind his back, his face probably filling up the entire camera.

Abbie arched an eyebrow and he straightened up, smiling apologetically.

All of a sudden the screen lit up with a burst of light. Jenny flinched, moving out of frame as people began to shout.

"Whoa, what was that?"

Jenny appeared again, voice muffled.

"No idea, power surge maybe? I'll call you back."

Ichabod and Abbie exchanged worried glances. After a minute Abbie shrugged, crossing the room to fix them both a mug of piping hot chocolate.

"I venture to hope that this is not one of your egg and grog concoctions. I have politely weathered a great many of your Yuletide traditions this past week but that is not one of them."

"No, try it it's good. I know how much you like Starbucks."

"I tolerate Starbucks, it is express thievery at best."

"Oh please." Abbie said, calling his bluff as she topped his drink off with a healthy and heaping curl of whipping cream.

"Cheers."

Ichabod grudgingly took a sip, eyes narrowed in Abbie's direction. He paused, turning his back to her as he threw the entire mug back, foam gathering in his beard.

Abbie smirked. Before she could enjoy her own drink, her phone buzzed. Ichabod turned to look at her as she slid open the call.

"Hello, Jenny, what's the matter?"

"You guys need to get over here, now."

"On our way."

Abbie grabbed her badge, sidling her gun into her holster.

"Right behind you, Leftenant."

Slamming his emptied mug down on the table, Ichabod wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his thick sweater and shrugged into his over coat.