Peter & Mariska - Fourteen [A Short Story]

Eleven - Christmas With Five

"Dammit Peter, I didn't want to cry tonight."

Peter smiled a bit, hugging Mariska into him once more and rubbing her arm. No matter how long it had been, talking about Mickey was always hard for them both, especially for Mariska. The time may have passed, and she was no longer crying everyday like she did when he first passed away, but it was still hard as her father had been her very best friend. Peter too was still affected by the loss as Mickey had always treated him like another son and he had learned a lot from his father in law.

"Sorry honey," Peter placed a kiss onto his wife's forehead; "No more tears tonight, I promise." He wiped the tears away with his thumb before kissing her lips, while she squeezed his arm.

"I'm good," she took a deep breath then quickly took a gulp of wine; "You know what though, speaking of Dad, I was talking to Mom the other day and she found a picture of all of us from Christmas years ago - she said I look like I was about eight or something - and me and Dad are pulling the cheesiest smiles faces; she text it to me." She took her phone from his hand and scrolled through, before pulling up the photo her stepmother had sent her. Peter peered at the photo and smiled; he was immediately able to pick out his wife as that smile she was wearing in the picture matched that same breathtaking smile she often wore now.

"This is a great photo, I love it," he kissed the top of her head as he held her; "Christmas is always a happy time of year; it's my favorite. I think I've loved it more since the kids came along."

"Oh my God, me too," Mariska gigged, leaning into him; "Oh man...remember our first Christmas after we adopted Amaya and Andrew?"

"I remember because it was one of the best Christmases we ever had," he paused to take a sip of his wine;

"And it felt like our family was finally complete."

*******

December 2011.

Christmas - laughter, family, food, cheesy Christmas songs, mistletoe, egg nog, Christmas movies, gingerbread houses.

The Hargitay-Hermann family had all of that - plus an energetic five-year-old that was running around, a busy eight-month-old that took joy in the shiny wrapping paper, and a relaxed five-month-old that was content in the arms of his father.

Christmas in the Hargitay-Hermann household was full of joy, finally complete.

"August - get down!"

Five-year-old August jumped down from the sofa, flashing a cheesy smile to his mother, who was giving him a stern look even though it was quite the battle as all she wanted to do was laugh. August was still standing there in his Star Wars pajamas - his latest obsession - holding the blue light saber toy in his hand.

"Sorry Mama, it's just so cool," he giggled, rushing over to where she was sitting on the floor, holding little eight-month-old Amaya in her arms; "Can I go play in the snow?"

"Later, honey," Mariska told him, standing up from her spot on the floor; "Go get your hands washed for breakfast."

"'Kay Mama!" August replied. He quickly hugged her legs then ran off to wash his hands, dramatically sniffing the air as he went as the smell of breakfast wafted throughout the house.

Mariska smirked to herself, then focused her attention on the adorable eight-month-old baby girl that was smiling and had a chubby hand wrapped around the hair that had fallen into her face; "Come on sweet girl, let's go find Daddy; he's-"