Twelve Ways To Spend One's Christmas Eve

Eleven Pipers Piping

ANOTHER YEAR LATER

 Anna is exhausted.

There's no way around it, she muses as she drops down yet another chimney. She's practically on the verge of collapse. Her and Nick have split duties again this year, but, once more, she's ended up in last place, because sure, Asia and South America are bigger than North America and Europe, but most of Asia doesn't even celebrate Christmas, and the same cannot be said for the continents that Anna is currently going round. 

She purses her lips in tired irritation as she stands in the fireplace, letting out a sigh. She has one foot in the fireplace and one in the living room of the house before she hears the sound of mumbling and freezes.

“I – uh, I was wondering if...shit, no, that’s not going to work...”

There it is again, the voice that Anna could recognise anywhere. Heart in her throat, she steps silently out of the fireplace and peers into the adjacent room, which is dark but for the slivers of moonlight streaming in through the curtains.

Sure enough, the familiar silhouette of Jonathan’s figure is sat on one of the couches, back to her. He’s hunched over his own hands, holding something in them that’s too small for her to make out. Anna feels her nails digging into her palms and her jaw clenching, and it takes all of her willpower not to sit down next to him and ask him where the cookies are with a smirk and press her lips against his.

No more.

She exhales on a choke, feeling her entire chest constricting as Jonathan continues to mutter to himself, oblivious of her presence.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay. I got this. I can do this.” She watches as he glances back down to the object in his hands, which she still can’t see, and takes a deep breath.

“Cassie,” he begins quietly, and at the name, Anna feels slivers of dread begin to worm their way into the pit of her stomach. Jonathan continues, completely unaware.

“You have been...” he trails off, and she can almost imagine the frown gracing his features, how his brows will crease in the way she always found adorable. “I  - you helped me. A lot. Oh God,” Jonathan falls back and buries his head into a nearby cushion. “This is way harder than they make it seem in the movies,” he mumbles into the fabric, but Anna can still make it out, and it’s that which makes her feel like laughing and crying all at once, because what a Jonathan thing to say, but is he talking about what she thinks he’s talking about?

“Okay,” Jonathan breathes, pushing himself back up into a sitting position, the small object  Anna still can’t catch a glimpse of back in his hands. “Okay. I can do this.” He pauses to run a hand through his hair. “Alright. Okay. Cassidy Moore. You are...one of the best women I’ve ever known. And, uh, you’ve been...my best friend.”

Anna feels her knees suddenly go weak. She clutches at the wall for support.

“You’ve stuck with me even when I’m sure I was the worst person to stick with. You’ve been strong even when I wasn’t – especially when I wasn’t, actually...” Jonathan trails off with a sigh and glances back down at his hands. By now, Anna doesn’t think she needs to know what he’s holding. “Basically,” he mumbles, head bent as he looks at the floor. “You’re amazing. And beautiful. And kind. And smart. And...I love you. A lot.”

Anna swallows thickly as she fights back tears. Jonathan presses on, still oblivious. “And even though there is nothing in the world that would make me deserve someone like you...”

You already do.

“...I, uh. Hypothetically. If I asked you to marry me – well, it’s not like it’s hypothetical, since I’m asking you right now, but. I mean. Would you? Maybe?”