The first of 2 Christmas fics I'm going to do this year, one at the start of December and one at the end. As this one is quite long, and covers twelve days, you can have it now to last you the rest of the month. I've been writing this throughout November, so it could be ready now. The other fic will be a lot more serious and ATEOTD-related but this one is just light-hearted.

Thankyou to slenderpanda597, who came up with the idea. I had a lot of fun writing this! It also sort of spiralled out of control and got massive, so it's turned also into a Boswell take on the Twelve Days of Christmas song. It very loosely follows the format of the song. Very, very loosely. Well, there are twelve days. And presents. But it all built up around the original idea which is still in there.

I suppose I'd better put in some warnings- this has a couple more innuendos than I usually write, a couple of cameos from other Bread couples. and one moment where...well, we'll get to that bit. Nothing I think that warrants bumping the rating up though.

Set around Series 2 (and, for the first time in history, I've written original Julie in...not that it really makes much difference.) No real plot or character development (they're more parodied than anything), no attempts at eloquence, just shameless fluff and flirting. Because, hey, it's Christmas.

Also, forgive me, but for the sake of the storyline, I've ignored the concept of weekends. What is a weekend? As my Australian Modernism lecturer used to say, when trying to set outrageously huge assignments for us. I'm not going by official DHSS rules in terms of opening and closing hours, etc, just fictional ones.

And there's some singing Joey. Because why not?

The Twelve Days of Christmas Benefits

On the twelfth of December, Joey Boswell made his Christmas visit to the DHSS.

Usually, Joey preferred not to leave it this late. Once the Social Security started handing out their one-off Christmas payments, the building was jam-packed with clients lining up for their holiday giros, and a short visit could take an hour at minimum. In light of this, Joey had been reminding his family since the start of November that if they wanted him to put in a claim for heating, for business expenses, for anything else that would cover them for the next month or so, that he would rather they gave him the necessary papers sooner rather than later.

But of course, what with Billy being too wrapped up in his new baby, Adrian being too wrapped up (literally) in Carmen, Jack being too wrapped up in trying to outbid other antique dealers for an enormously valuable Nativity set and the others always finding something or other to prioritise, the whole of November had passed without a single one of them approaching Joey about their claims. December had passed in much the same way—every day, Joey had made an announcement at the dinner table, and every day, everyone had gone oh, yeah and carried on eating—and it wasn't until last night, when he'd stood up, proclaimed that he was going down the Social Security tomorrow, and anyone's claims which weren't ready wouldn't get a look-in, that the family had sprung into action. It was like being children all over again—his brothers and sisters spent that evening frantically sorting out receipts and bills and scribbling down sums, as if trying to get last-minute homework done, and Joey had suddenly been bombarded with a whole stack of papers at once. Even Nellie, who was typically more organised than this, waited until the last minute to dump a plethora of family and Grandad-related claims on him, and the eldest Boswell, sighing and raising his eyes to Heaven, had sacrificed the rest of his night sorting through it all and writing himself a list of everything that needed to be taken care of.

Still, Joey reasoned now, glancing around the reasonably empty DHSS and exhaling in relief as he took his number, he seemed to have gotten in under the wire. The rush hadn't begun yet.

He sat down in one of the hideous plastic chairs, balancing the rather overfed manila folder of claim-related paperwork on his lap. It was just as well there wasn't an enormous queue yet. This lot might take a while to get through.

For an awful, sterile sort of place, the DHSS was looking rather nice today—someone had gone to the trouble of stringing up a few pieces of tinsel above the doors and across the front of the counters, and a couple of bits of plastic holly had been tied to the barriers between the partitions. There had been an obvious attempt made to make the place seem a bit more friendly and pleasant for the Christmas season, and Joey couldn't help but smile to himself as he surveyed it.

Until, that was, his eyes alighted on the third counter. While the other DHSS clerks seemed to have at least partially-heartedly entered into the spirit of things, allowing the tinsel and holly to adorn their desks, Martina's space was entirely devoid of decoration, appearing, in contrast, even colder and more unwelcoming than usual. Behind it, Martina herself wore an amplified version of her usual frown as she ploughed through her work, and Joey laughed under his breath at the sight of her. His usual clerk's increased frostiness and apparent dislike of Christmas would make for a rather entertaining visit, if exploited in the right way. He grinned, wondering just how much he could annoy her within his allotted time.

'NEXT!' Martina called, and Joey, disregarding whatever number was on his ticket, sprang up immediately and sailed over to her counter.

'Season's Greetings!' he announced as he lowered himself resplendently into the chair.

Martina was evidently unimpressed with Joey's Christmassy variation on his catchphrase.

'What is it you want, Mister Boswell?'

'Very festive, this,' Joey ignored her question. 'All these invisible decorations; really shows off your Christmas spirit, doesn't it, sweetheart?'

Martina glowered. 'I don't 'ave time fer frivolity, Mister Boswell. I 'ave a job to do, and unnecessary gilt isn't gonna benefit a detached working relationship.'

Joey tutted. 'Scrooge.'

'Says the man who hoards leather gear, an expensive car and an enormous stash o' money, and still comes down 'ere to acquire more.'

'Ah, but you are forgetting one vital thing, sweetheart,' Joey said, 'I am far more cheerful and generous towards others than the average miser.'

Martina growled under her breath. 'Get on with it, Mister Boswell. What is it you want this time?'

He would enjoy this moment.

'Well,' he began, retrieving the manila folder from under the desk and placing it on the counter. Martina's response didn't disappoint. She stared at the enormous stack of papers in what could only be described as sheer horror. Her head lowered to the file, then raised itself to him, then repeated the action, as though she were in a cartoon.

'You can't be serious. You're not claimin' fer all that, surely?'

'Shall we begin?' Joey opened the folder with a flourish, withdrawing the top sheet, on which he had written an inventory of everything which needed to be sorted out.

'You are serious,' Martina groaned.

'First of all, the most pressing matter is our Grandad.'

'Surprise, surprise…'

'Now, as you know, this poor, dear old man is fast approaching the age of seventy-five, and during these cruel winter months, a poor, dear old man cannot survive without heat. And as such, when the heating bill is increased by ten per cent…'

Martina, sensing where he was going with this, snatched up a form and slammed it in front of him.

'Fill that in.'

'Good. Right. Now, onto item two.'

'Just how many 'items' are there fer me to 'ave ter get through?'

He grinned. 'Sixteen, by my count.'

Martina's jaw dropped as Joey went on to recount Nellie's phone bill request, his Adrian's request for an advance on his next giro while he took a week off looking for work, and his Billy's claim for an extra lump sum because 'his baby needed more Christmas presents,' and by the time he got to claim nine, which involved new pairs of tights for his Mam and Aveline owing to the weather, her face was bright red and her jaw must have ached from having her mouth open for so long. When Joey paused for breath, she licked her finger, thumbing through a stack of forms until she'd counted off fifteen, and then shoved them at him as viciously as she could manage.

'Just take the lot, Mister Boswell. I can't bear listenin' to any more of that! Just take them away, fill them in, bring them back, however you do it, I don't care—only don't subject me to any more o' this torture!'

'There's that Christmas spirit of generosity!' Joey teased, taking the forms before she could change her mind and snatch them back. 'I knew you wouldn't let my beloved fam-i-ly suffer at this time of year!'

'Huh. Suffer? If only! Now,' Martina folded her hands, sighing, 'is there anythin' else you're going to insist on tryin' to get off me while you're 'ere, or am I rid o' you now?'

Joey considered, a facetious grin spreading across his face as a naughty idea pinged into his head.

'How about a kiss for Christmas?'

Martina's eyes popped out to about twice their size, and her lips pursed so fast Joey was momentarily worried she might swallow them. She sat frozen in shock for a moment, and then her brain seemed to kick in again, and she glared.

'No.'

The eldest Boswell couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. 'Oh, well, there's always next time, isn't there?'

Martina, still giving him a ferocious death stare, slapped a new form down in front of herself.

'NEXT!'

And Joey, although his original plan had been to do his forms here and now and make this his last DHSS visit of the year, was overcome by the urge to return again tomorrow.

No kiss for Christmas, eh, sweetheart? Challenge accepted.

On the thirteenth of December, Joey Boswell got together all his completed forms and pranced through the doors of the DHSS, snagging the first of the tickets before the rest of the rabble had time to cross the room.

'Number One!' called Martina, taking down her 'CLOSED' sign.

Joey zipped across to the desk, and with a grand gesture, presented her with the forms.

'For you, madam.'

'Oh, good,' the DHSS lady took in the thick stack with a look of distaste. 'That's my holiday readin' cut out fer me.'

'I do tend to be generous like that, don't I?' Joey said, aware of the impertinent tone that dominated his voice. 'And seein' as I've given you such a lovely gift, you could return the favour.'

'Oh, God,' Martina muttered, seemingly to herself. 'He's come back for more money.'

She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. 'And what is it this time, then? An extra allowance fer birdseed for yer Grandad's canary? A claim for the cat that lives two streets away? An increase in yer leather jacket budget, in favour of gettin' yerself an early Christmas present?'

Joey waited until she had finished speaking, and for a few moments he did nothing but grin, relishing the unpleasant apprehension that crept over her face.

'How about a kiss for Christmas?'

Martina gritted her teeth. 'No.'

Joey pretended to be affronted. 'But it's Christmas!'

'NEXT!'

And that was that.

But Joey would not be so easily beaten.

On the fourteenth of December, Joey Boswell came home to find Adrian being attacked in the parlour.

'Ah! Greetings! Nice to see you, Carmen,' he said, awkwardly manoeuvring himself around the canoodling couple towards where he'd left his paper on the other side of the sofa. Reaching over the entangled mass that was Adrian and Carmen, particularly when Adrian had one hand on Carmen's thigh, and Carmen seemed to be trying to get one hand up his shirt and another down his trousers, was not a pleasant task, but no matter how many times he pointedly said excuse me, the couple took no notice of him.

'Thank you…' Joey sing-songed through his teeth, creeping back across the room. 'So nice to be acknowledged…'

Adrian and Carmen's lips parted with a loud smack (finally, Joey thought), and they stared hungrily at each other.

'I've never done it in your parlour before, Adrian,' Carmen said, her voice rough with lust.

'Er—I'm in the room!' Joey protested. 'Adrian!'

'Oh!' that got his brother's attention, at least. Adrian hastened to sit up, half-freeing himself from Carmen. He looked a little overwhelmed, hair dishevelled, face covered in lipstick, eyes reminiscent of a deer in headlights, but then again, that was usual post-Carmen mode for Adrian. 'Joey! When did you get in?'

He fended off his predatory partner, who was now trying to place kisses all over his neck, and leapt off the sofa.

'Erm…I brought Carmen round for dinner.'

'So I see,' Joey said, wringing his hands in discomfort. 'Er, well…everyone else'll probably be back any minute…you'd better get yourselves…presentable, eh?' The remark had come out sounding more pointed than he'd intended, but the pair of them, after their little clinch, looked like they'd just been through a hurricane. And his Mam, Joey knew, would not be pleased by that sight.

'Yes…right.' Adrian came around the sofa, Carmen pouting indignantly, rising and shadowing him all the way round. 'I'll just…'

'We don't need to go to dinner, you know, Adrian,' she said.

'But I told my family we'd…'

'We could go next door to your Grandad's parlour…' she pushed the shoulder of her blouse down, fluttering her eyelashes despite the fact Adrian couldn't have seen, 'and do it.'

'Still in the room,' said Joey.

'Carmen, I don't…'

Carmen's long-nailed fingers lightly wrapped around his wrist, stroking it. 'Come on, Adrian. Come with me.'

Adrian grimaced, but his insatiable girlfriend's teasing proved too much for him.

'I think we'd better get out of here,' he managed to spit out, before Carmen had dragged him out the front door.

Joey shook his head after them, sitting down on the sofa they'd vacated and trying to block the mental image of what they were probably doing right now out of his mind.

Carmen had her methods of persuasion down pat, though, he had to admit.

The eldest Boswell thought back to his failed attempt this morning to get what he wanted at the DHSS. Asking Martina for a Christmas kiss had become more than just an attempt to tease her now. Every time she looked him in the eye and said no in that firm, authoritative voice, Joey's desire to actually crack this challenge, see what it took to get her to say yes, increased tenfold. He wasn't even sure why this was consuming him so, why he was even prepared to brave the now doubling queues at the DHSS just to see this challenge through, but he knew for certain he couldn't let Martina walk away having beaten him. And if it took him every day til Christmas, he was going to defeat her, going to get her to kiss him.

If only he could persuade her as easily as Carmen persuaded Adrian.

Hmm. He wondered…

On the fifteenth of December, Joey Boswell invented a food bill for Mongy and returned to the DHSS.

'Again?!' Martina exclaimed as he sat down, having bribed a fellow customer in order to get the first ticket for the third morning running. 'I realise you 'ave a big family, but even you lot can't get through money that fast.'

'It's just somethin' for Mongy.'

'Oh, yeah? Yer dog, this time. I might've known.' She made sure her shoulders visibly heaved when she sighed. 'Fill that in, love.'

'You're not going to fight it?'

'I 'aven't the energy ter keep stoppin' yer. Not when I'm 'avin' to withstand daily assaults.'

'Too kind, sweetheart,' Joey said as he withdrew his musical pen and signed the form. 'Too kind.'

She reached to retrieve the form from him. Joey, seizing his chance, put his own arm forward, gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist, as he'd seen Carmen do last night, running them up and down the back of her hand.

'How about a kiss for Christmas?'

Martina snatched her hand back.

'No.'

Joey tried his hardest to switch his grin for a hurt expression.

'NEXT!'

Perhaps Carmen's methods didn't work so well after all.

Or maybe he just wasn't good at them.

On the sixteenth of December, Joey Boswell purchased a small bouquet of roses on the way to the DHSS.

'And what would this bribe be for, pray?'

'Your words are cruel barbs, sometimes, sunshine. Would I bribe you? Would I?'

Martina arched an eyebrow. 'Yes.'

'And whatever would I bribe you for?'

'Oh, I don't know, Mister Boswell,' Martina shrugged dramatically, 'extra giros, payin' yer telephone bills for yer, generally givin' you money you've no entitlement to… favours…'

'Just a simple gesture of goodwill, sweetheart,' Joey held the flowers out to her, 'in case it's slipped your mind, what with no decorations to remind you…' (Martina rolled her eyes at this comment) '… we are in the midst of the twelve days of Christmas, and tradition dictates that one receives gifts during this time. Now, I have already provided you with forms, claims and my presence…'

'Oh, and those count as 'gifts', do they?'

'Certainly.'

'In which case, I suppose I should feel lucky that I'm 'gifted' with such things nearly every day by members of your family. P'raps that's why I'm no longer grateful—I receive the same things too often.'

Joey, anxious for her to take the roses, now pushed the bouquet into her hand. 'For you, my one true love.'

Martina blanched. 'I'm not—'

'Haven't you ever heard the words of the song? On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me…'

The DHSS lady hastily held up a hand. 'Please don't sing, Mister Boswell. I've 'ad enough of yer visits as it is this week, without turnin' this into Joey Boswell: The Musical.'

'What a fantastic idea!' Joey said delightedly. 'I would be a tremendous success if I wrote and starred in a musical, wouldn't you say?'

'Please do. Then you won't need us anymore.'

'And I can come in here and demonstrate my musical numbers.'

'Or not.' Martina shuddered. 'Be off with yer, now, Mister Boswell. I've got a lot ter get through. In case you didn't notice, we're gettin' very busy this time o' year.'

'Of course, sweetheart. Of course.' Joey half-turned, as if to get out of the chair, and then pretended a thought had just struck him as he turned back around. 'And speakin' of this time o' year… and seein' as I've just given you a lovely present…'

'Why is it I think I can sense what you're about to say?'

'Because you are amazingly perceptive. How about a kiss for Christmas, then?'

Martina's eyes narrowed, and then, to the eldest Boswell's surprise, she beckoned for him to lean in closer.

Joey moved his head forward until it was inches from hers, his heart swelling with victory, but Martina's lips went right past his and found their way to his ear.

'No,' she said loudly, causing him to jump back, his eardrum still buzzing from the assault.

Martina looked smugly triumphant. 'NEXT!'

On the seventeenth of December, Joey Boswell's DHSS visit was cut short by the fact that Billy had gotten trapped in his car.

'How about a—' he was in the midst of saying, when, at the worst possible moment, his mobile began to scream from his jacket pocket.

'Excuse me one moment.' He ignored Martina's incredulous look as he retrieved his phone and stuck it against his ear. 'Hello, yes?'

'Joey!' his Mam bleated down the line, 'Billy's trapped!'

Joey stiffened. 'Trapped? What d'you mean?'

'He can't get out his car—he's been complaining about it all morning—and that snide Miss Julie is in there with him. They're doin' my head in, the pair of them, just because they can't get the doors open!'

He allowed himself to relax as the relief crept over him. The way his Mam had opened the conversation, he'd been worried his youngest brother had been in a much worse scrape than that. Then again, he might've known. Nellie was inclined to make a drama out of the smallest things.

'Well…' he began, pretending not to notice the fact that Martina was huffing and looking at her watch, 'is Jack there? He's normally quite good at gettin' the doors open again.'

'I don't know where he is…oh, Joey, I don't know how much more of their rowin' I can stand to hear! It carries right through into the house!'

'Okay, okay,' he said, 'I'll come and help them get out. I'll see yer.'

He hung up, waving apologetically to Martina.

'I have to go…family emergency, you know.'

'I see.'

'Just before I go, though, there's still time for that Christmas k—'

'No,' said Martina. 'There isn't.'

Joey didn't have time to argue. He left the DHSS muttering to himself—he'd find a way to make her give in, if it was the last thing he did before Christmas—and headed out to his Jag as quickly as he could.

The situation, when he did arrive back on Kelsall Street and behold it himself, was almost as bad as Nellie had described. Billy's engine was smoking horrifically, and Billy, not only jammed inside the car but stuck in a seat that seemed to have jammed itself too far forward, was frantically rattling the doorhandle to the accompanying tune of Julie snapping at him from the passenger seat and Francesca screaming from the back.

Joey shook his head and strode over to assist.

'Greetings! In a bit of a fix there, aren't you, son?'

'Aw, hey, stop judgin' me and help me get out!' Billy's mood had evidently taken a turn for the worst. 'We're all stuck in 'ere!' He rattled the door again, and a few outer pieces of the car fell off.

'Now look what you've done, Billy!' Julie snarled.

Not entirely sure interfering with Billy's car wouldn't end in him covered in oil, or worse, Joey shrugged off his leather jacket and rolled up his sleeves as he moved in closer to the vehicle. On approaching the door, he immediately recognised the problem—Julie's door seemed to be genuinely jammed, but as for Billy's…

'Er, have you tried unlockin' it, son?'

A rather embarrassed silence ensued. Billy glanced at the door, and then, with an awkward laugh, flicked up the lock and pushed it open with ease.

'Do you mean to tell me, Billy Boswell,' came Julie's furious voice, 'that we could've gotten out your side all along? That I've been stuck in this death trap with you for two hours with a screamin' baby just because you forgot to unlock your door?!'

'Well, I'm sorry I don't notice everythin', Julie! I'm sorry I've been stressed lately, Julie! Only I 'ave got you and the baby to provide for over Christmas, 'aven't I, and when that's on mind I get a bit distracted! I'm not ready for all this!'

'I'm surprised you ever even passed yer driving test, Billy! How did you manage to keep your mind on more than one thing at once?'

'Now look here, Julie!' Billy thumped his steering wheel in frustration, an action which triggered the glove box to fall open. Julie went to shout at him, then shrieked instead as something came sliding out of it into her lap.

'Aw, hey, you weren't meant to see them!'

Billy reached out to snatch the object away from her, but Julie, ever in control of the situation, held it away from him.

'What are you tryin'a hide from me, Billy Boswell?' she demanded, her eyes widening as she examined it. 'Is this a box o' chocolates?'

'It was supposed to be a surprise,' Billy whined, 'I was gonna bring 'em out and give 'em to you when we got 'ome, only then we got stuck in the car!'

Julie's usually sneering face softened. 'Aw,' she said softly, 'bless. You are daft, Billy Boswell, but you've gorra way with yer.' She leaned across to kiss him, and Joey tactfully wandered off into the house and left them to it.

This whole incident, though having wasted a significant portion of his time, hadn't been entirely for nothing, though, he thought as he stepped inside. Billy, without realising it, had given him an idea.

On the eighteenth of December, Joey Boswell decided to put what he'd seen into practice.

'On the seventh day of Christmas…'

'What did I say the other day about singin', Mister Boswell?' Martina rubbed her temples.

'If I recall correctly, summat about me startin' a musical?'

Martina loured. 'I was thinkin' more along the lines o' when I said don't do it.'

Joey assumed his best offended face. 'My singin' voice isn't as bad as all that, is it, sweetheart?'

'Well, now you mention it, Mister Boswell, it is as bad as all that.'

He couldn't tell from the look on her face whether she actually meant that or not.

'Go on, then, Mister Boswell. What diabolical tactic are you gonna try on me today, then?'

The eldest Boswell laid a finger to the side of his nose, then reached inside his leather jacket and brought out his piece de resistance.

'Hey presto!'

Perhaps getting her chocolates in a Christmas tree-shaped box was a little on the obvious side, but when one was trying to ram the message home that this was a Christmas present, and that he was hoping for a Christmas present in return, they'd do in a pinch.

Martina took the box of chocolates, eyes still on Joey as she worked at the edge with her fingernails and prised it open.

'These aren't drugged, are they?'

'And would I drug you, sweetheart?'

'It's within the bounds of the imagination. I'm not entirely sure just how far you'd go ter get me to give you what you wanted…money or otherwise.'

'Oh, don't be so quick to leap to conclusions,' Joey said, slightly stung by this remark but refusing to let it show. 'If you were drugged, where would my victory be? Provin' I deserve that money—or that you do want to give me a kiss for Christmas—would produce far more satisfyin' results.'

'I doubt you could ever prove to me you deserved any of the money you swindle off the state,' Martina returned. She pulled the box of chocolates closer, examining the contents. Joey watched her rummage for a minute, noting to himself that any mention of whether or not she wanted to kiss him was conspicuously absent from her retort. Of course, that could have meant anything—or nothing—but for the purposes of his self-established challenge he took that as a good sign. At any rate, it was certainly something he could bring up in later conversations and really make her cross with.

Martina's hand circled the chocolates before honing in on a star-shaped one and plucking it from its spot.

She continued to watch him as she put it to her mouth, biting off half of it and chewing slowly.

'Not drugged, then?' Joey teased. The corners of her mouth turned upwards, her eyes crinkling evilly. She continued to savour the chocolate, popping the other half of it in her mouth and reaching for a second one.

Joey wasn't quite sure what her game was. It was unlike Martina to simply accept a gift from him without a lot more grilling as to his motives, or some sort of sneaky plan to get him back formulating in the back of her mind, and yet here she sat, casually cutting a swathe through the box of chocolates he'd given her.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

'Enjoyin' yourself there?'

'Well, you bought them for me,' Martina said, reaching for a third, 'I'm going to eat them.'

A stray little fleck of chocolate stuck to her bottom lip as she bit into it, and her tongue darted out to catch it. Joey shifted in his seat, trying not to succumb to the mental images her actions were conjuring, and the even stronger desire to win that Christmas kiss that it had unleashed. She smirked again as she went on chewing, and Joey realised that that had been her intent all along—that in eating the chocolate very slowly in front of him, she was deliberately being provocative.

No, he wasn't having that. He was the one who frustrated people, who teased them, who taunted them and toyed with their minds in order to gain the upper hand over them. He couldn't be in this position.

When Martina moved to take another chocolate Joey acted fast, slamming the lid down over the box before she could get there.

'I think it's evident enough you like that present, then,' he said. 'Now, would you happen to have anything for me?'

'If you're after any money, you've 'ad the lot. I've been instructed not to give you any more grants until at least next year.'

Joey shook his head. 'You know that's not what I was asking. So, Martina,' he folded hands, leaning forward, 'how about a kiss for Christmas?'

Martina didn't respond for a while, just sat smiling slyly.

'Shut your eyes, Mister Boswell.'

Joey started. 'What?'

'You 'eard me. Do as you're told.'

He shut his eyes, although he was unable to shut his mouth, a grin insisting on splitting his face in two. It was a little too much to hope for that the chocolates had softened her up enough to actually give in, but Joey allowed himself to remain slightly optimistic, slightly on guard for whatever she might be about to do, and went along with it.

Something pressed against his lips, and the eldest Boswell spluttered as a piece of chocolate was shoved into his mouth.

He opened his eyes, and Martina didn't bother to hide her wickedly victorious smile.

Joey swallowed the chocolate in one gulp, the action triggering a fit of hiccups. Desperately trying to keep a lid on them, he turned his attention back to Martina.

'I was rather hopin' for a kiss from you, not an inanimate piece of confectionery.'

Martina shrugged. 'It's not my fault you didn't specify that.'

'Oh, come on, that doesn't count!'

'And who said it didn't?'

'I did!' Joey could hear the whine creeping into his voice. She'd absolutely floored him, he realised. She'd manipulated the situation to a point where she was in control, where she had the ability to drive him to frustration, instead of, as Joey had originally intended, the other way round.

'I'm going to get that kiss, you know,' he said, aware that he sounded more pathetic than flippant at this point.

'Oh, are you just? And 'ow do you propose to do that, Mister Boswell? Seein' as how you've not been able to so far?'

'I will use me brilliant persuasion skills,' he replied. 'I am, after all, a master negotiator when it comes to you and the DHSS.'

'Oh, yeah?'

'And, I come with an irresistible charm that no-one can truly resist. I simply ooze grace and style from every pore,' he said.

And hiccupped.

Martina tried to disguise her snigger as a cough.

On the nineteenth of December, Joey Boswell ascended the steps to the DHSS only to find it closed.

He hunched his shoulders with the indignity of it all—he'd had a brilliant plan, he'd braved the chilly weather to come out here, despite Nellie's pleas for him to keep himself indoors on a day like today and not subject himself to a cold, he'd been more determined than ever to win his own little game and get that kiss off Martina, and it had all been for naught. Not only that, he looked a complete idiot now, standing outside in the freezing weather and shivering despite being layered up in a leather jacket and leather coat, in front of a building that wasn't even going to open its doors to him.

As Joey went to leave, a podgy man in a moth-eaten overcoat clomped up the stairs, arms folded and head down, heading for the doors as though on a mission.

'Eh, mate!' Joey called. The man stopped in his tracks, turning and scowling up at him.

'Wha'?'

'I wouldn't bother, son. They're shut.'

The man uttered a word that wasn't really appropriate for a public setting and kicked at the ground, scuffing his shoe on the concrete.

'Bloody idiots! What do they think they're doin,' closin' this close ter Christmas? I've got to get me giro, I 'ave, or me four lit'le ones aren't gonna 'ave nothin' to eat on Christmas Day! And I won't be able to nip down the pub for a quick pint come Christmas afternoon, know what I mean, pal?'

Joey sensed his companion wasn't actually looking for a response, so he simply nodded.

'They should give us a bloody break! It's as if they don't even bleedin' know it's Christmas! You'd think, just this one time o' year they might see their way to showin' us a little kindness! 'Opeless, ain't it? That bleedin' lot'll never give us what we want, will they?'

'Tell me about it,' muttered Joey.

On the twentieth of December, Joey Boswell was dismayed to see that while the DHSS was fully operational once again, Martina was not.

He'd walked in this morning with a purposeful stride, resolving this time to sound masterful and confident in himself rather than desperate, to get the ball back in his court and bait and goad her for a bit, watch her get all riled up and annoyed and ensure that, even if he didn't score his kiss, he was the one in control of the situation.

But though he sat in front of her counter for ten minutes, rehearsing his lines and the deliberately amusing false claim he'd thought of to open the conversation with, Martina never showed up.

'Eh!' called the clerk at the next partition. 'She's on her break, love!'

'Ah,' said Joey, 'thank you! Much obliged to you, sweetheart. Do you know how long she's plannin' on taking?'

'No,' said the DHSS lady, blinking at him through her spectacles, 'you're Joey Boswell, aren't yer? From the amount Martina's told me, I'd recognise you anywhere. 'Ere. She told me that if you came in, I was to give you this.'

She leaned over into Martina's counter, passing him a folded piece of paper over the desk, and Joey took it, perplexed, and unfolded it.

The paper was blank, except for one very little word, written in very large capital letters.

NO.

Joey crushed the paper in his fist and wondered what he was going to do now.

On the twenty-first of December, Joey Boswell entered the DHSS just as Martina was 'on her break' again, and that she'd said to tell him no. He gave the other clerk a suspicious look, not entirely unsure they hadn't planned this between them, that Martina hadn't asked for advanced warning of when he might appear, in order to take her time off accordingly.

Well, then, next time he'd have to take her by surprise, wouldn't he?

On the twenty-second of December, Joey Boswell waited until the DHSS had all but closed for the day, and darted into the foyer just as the last client exited through the outer doors.

'Don't expect any joy in there, pal,' the raggedy old man snapped at him. 'They stopped servin' ten minutes ago. Like gettin' blood from a stone, it was, tryin' ter ask them for anythin'! Just so they could 'make preparations!' Whatever the bloody 'ell that's supposed to mean!' He stomped off, and Joey, wondering just what he meant, wandered through toward the double doors.

For a second he wondered if he'd stumbled into the wrong place. The DHSS had taken on a completely different atmosphere, far more decorations adorning it than before, upbeat, Christmassy music filtering into the room from an old radio. On the far side of the room, past the counters, stood a rather large, plastic –but still reasonably realistic—Christmas tree, surrounded by an army of open cardboard boxes housing a variety of colourful decorations. Joey wasn't sure whether this addition to the trimmings was an attempt to make the place seem more friendly as larger quantities of people surged in, or whether it was just to acknowledge the fact that Christmas was almost upon them now, or a regulation, but whatever the reason, the place was a far cry from its usual sterile self. It almost gave him the urge to perform a little jig.

An arm shot out from behind the tree, reaching for a string of lights lying on one of the counters and inadvertently knocking them onto the floor.

'Oh, bloody—' the body attached to the arm emerged to pick up the lights, and Joey's heart thumped as Martina came into view. Now this was perfect. Martina decorating a Christmas tree, after being decidedly frosty about most things Christmas over the past week or so. Martina decorating a Christmas tree, as of yet completely unaware of his presence. Whether he could simply ridicule her for ages about this, or make the best of this apparent surge in Christmas spirit and claim his kiss, he was looking forward to whatever outcome this would bring.

Martina snatched up the lights, and then turned her attention towards the radio, giving it a glare as if it were one of her Social Security clients, and could actually see her facial expression.

'What else is on?' she murmured, twiddling the knob. Another jingly, chirpy song filled the room.

The DHSS lady grumbled some more, switching stations again and again and being greeted again and again with holiday music.

'Ugh,' she gave the radio a flick, as if that would actually affect it in any way, 'useless, you are.'

'Aw, you could always cut the poor dear radio some slack,' Joey said, deciding to make himself known, 'it's merely reflecting the spirit of the season.'

Martina jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping the lights again.

'What are you doin' 'ere?' she demanded.

Joey beamed. 'Greetings!'

'We're closed, you know!'

'Thought it was me only chance of catchin' you,' he said, taking a step closer towards her. 'Anyone would think you've been avoidin' me…'

'I've had a lot of work to be goin' on with,' Martina's shoulders tensed as she went on the defensive, 'I didn't 'ave time fer your daily festive cheer and ridiculous demands.'

'Or you were merely running out of willpower to turn me down, and had to hide to avoid succumbing to your passion…' Joey jested, pleased to see her face turn red, perhaps suggesting he was home and dry there, 'and speakin' of festive cheer, you're a bit of a dark horse in that department, aren't you, sweetheart? Decoratin' the office Christmas tree while you think no-one can see you…'

'Don't think I'm doin' this of me own free will,' she snarled. 'One of us 'ad ter do it. I drew the short straw.'

She looked down at the boxes of decorations in disgust, giving one of them a light kick.

'I don't see why it's necessary. We 'ad tinsel up already. They could've made do with that. It's gonna take me years to get all that lot up.'

Joey considered her, then the boxes. 'Well, seein' as I'm here, I could always…lend you a hand, couldn't I?'

Martina touched her ear, as though she couldn't quite believe what it was telling her. 'You…'

'You've signed over a significant sum to my fam-i-ly this winter, sweetheart, to see we survive this chilly time of year with enough heat and food to tide us over…one good turn deserves another.'

She raised her eyebrows.

'I mean it, sweetheart. Don't want you stuck in here all night, do we?'

Martina still looked wary, but she pushed a box over towards him with her foot.

'All right, then. You can start with those.'

'Great!' Joey clapped his hands and bent over the box as Martina applied herself to untangling the Christmas lights.

For a while they busied themselves hanging baubles on the tree, transforming it from a bare skeleton into a passable Christmas monument, and the room took on a cosier atmosphere with every colourful piece they added.

'All right, this, isn't it?' Joey ventured as Martina swung a piece of tinsel at the tree, and his hand reflexively shot out to catch the other end of it. 'You and me workin' together. We're gettin' through this. You know, it's got me thinkin'—if we combined our brilliance and respective skills, instead of pittin' them against each other, we'd be a force to be reckoned with.'

'Are you suggestin' I go into business with you, Mister Boswell? Because if so, you can forget it, love. I'd much prefer to earn money the honest way.'

'A shame, sweetheart. A shame.'

Martina wasn't looking at him, but Joey could instinctively tell, from four years of watching her reactions to him, that she was rolling her eyes.

'Could you get on, please, Mister Boswell? The objective of allowin' you ter help was so I could actually get home sometime tonight.'

She picked up another bauble, reaching up to place it on a high branch and missing her mark. Cursing under her breath, she strained her arm and reached for it again.

'Want some help, there?' Joey sauntered over, taking advantage of the clear foot of height he had over her and delivering it to its spot with ease. His fingers brushed hers as he took the bauble from her. He tried not to take too much notice of the sensation.

'I can manage meself, you know! There are plenty o' things for you to 'ang on there, without havin' to do mine for me.'

'As you wish, sunshine. As you wish.' Joey returned to his original task, smirking as Martina went to great pains to put three more decorations up higher than she could reach. When she grabbed the star, though, the eldest Boswell couldn't resist coming back over. There was no way she was going to be able to reach the top of the tree, no matter how hard she tried.

Joey watched her struggle with it for a moment, getting nowhere even when she stood on her toes, and then moved his own arm towards the star.

'I'm puttin' it on,' she snarled, feebly attempting to move it away from him.

He chuckled. 'Gettin' very possessive of that star, aren't you? It's that secret love of Christmas comin' out of you again, isn't it?'

'For goodness' sake, Mister Boswell. Do we 'ave to 'ave a running commentary? Just go and do somethin' useful, and let me get this star in its place.'

'Useful. Let you get the star on. Right,' Joey said, and then, taken by an impulse, he took a step back and placed his hands around her waist.

'Eh!' Martina yelped, and then promptly squeaked as Joey lifted her into the air, as he would a child.

'Much easier for you to reach, now, isn't it?'

'Let go o' me,' she hissed.

'You said to do somethin' useful,' Joey replied, pretending not to register the stab of pain as she kicked backwards at him and jabbed him in the shin with the heel of her shoe, 'and let's face it, sweetheart, you were never gonna get that up there without assistance, were you?'

Martina bristled, sucking in air through her teeth, and jammed the star into its rightful place. 'You can let go now. It's up.'

'Shame, that. We were just gettin' to know each other, weren't we?' Joey set her down on her feet. She pushed him backwards and stalked back over to the boxes of decorations.

'See what I mean about us workin' as a team?'

'Oh, shut up,' Martina had picked up another armful of tinsel, and she now threw it at him, her scowl melting as it hit him squarely in the face.

Joey paused to wipe his eyes and spit bits of tinsel out of his mouth, now unable to prevent himself sporting a grin as wide as hers had become. He retrieved the tinsel, scrunched it into something vaguely resembling a ball and threw it back at her.

'Oi!' Martina dodged a little too late, copping it in the shoulder. 'Oh, you'll pay for that one.'

She snatched up every last string of tinsel in the box, giggling now in spite of herself as she advanced on him.

'Oh, great artillery, that,' Joey lunged forward, skimming several pieces off the top, 'thanks. Now we're a bit more evenly matched.'

She hurled the whole lot at him then, and Joey moved very fast, gathering as many pieces as he could before they fell to the floor.

'Well, now the tables have turned, haven't they?' he scooped the rest up, strode over to her and dumped them over her head. Martina shrieked, still laughing, and made a rather pathetic attempt at hitting him with half an inch of tinsel that had somehow become detached from a longer strand.

'No, sweetheart, I think I've won the battle now,' Joey grabbed her round the waist again, preventing her from stooping and picking up any more. 'I always do in the end, you know.'

'Oh, rubbish.'

'No, it's true,' he picked a stray bit of tinsel from her hair, pulling her closer so the gap between them was virtually non-existent, 'I got you to show that Christmas spirit of yours, didn't I? I always knew you 'ad it in you.'

Martina shook her head, her mouth still twisted in mirth.

'And speaking of Christmas spirit, how about a kiss for Christmas?'

She sighed audibly, though try as she might, she couldn't wipe the smirk off her face.

'No,' she said, though it lacked its usual ferocity.

Joey opened his gob to say something in reply, and Martina took full advantage of his moment of shock to free herself from his hands, retrieve a fistful of the tinsel and hit him over the head with it.

On the twenty-third of December, Joey Boswell heard something which turned the situation on its head.

He'd seen a side of Martina last night he rarely got the opportunity to encounter—one which was playful and minxish, one which made him want that Christmas kiss more than ever, not for the enjoyment of watching her react with indignant rage when he suggested it, not for the sense of victory he'd gain from winning their little war over it, but simply for the sheer feeling of what it would be like to kiss her, what it would be like to hold her in his arms again and make her smile like that.

And he had come so close last night—he knew that as sure as he knew his name was Joey Boswell. They'd finished putting the decorations up without saying much to each other, though something subtle had shifted in the atmosphere between them after their little tinsel fight. Joey had turned up the radio again, much to Martina's annoyance, and tried to get her to dance with him to Have a Holly Jolly Christmas, and though she'd only half-heartedly let him spin and twist her, her mouth had been permanently curved into that little smirk of hers, and when they separated he could have sworn her hand had lingered a little longer in his than it needed to.

And when the last decoration was hung, and they'd stood back to admire it, Joey applauding their efforts and Martina merely sighing with relief and muttering about going home, he could have sworn their fingers brushed at least twice.

'Right, then,' she'd said, shoving all the boxes over the counter with some relish, 'I'll be off, then.'

She'd slipped on her coat, pausing with one hand on the door. 'Oh, and Mister Boswell?'

'Yes, dearest?'

She'd briefly rolled her eyes at the pet name, but the cheeky look on her face won out against her attempts to appear steely.

'You know, our combined effort's not so bad, is it? Well, we got the job done, didn't we?' She'd leaned more heavily on the doorframe, placing one hand on her hip. 'You may 'ave been onto somethin' with that 'force to be reckoned with' nonsense you were on about earlier.'

'Of course I was onto somethin'. I am fantastically perceptive on these matters, you see.'

'Are you, just?'

'I'd be right about that kiss too, if you'd give it half a chance.'

'Oh, yeah?' She shifted the hand on her hip a little higher. 'What about it?'

'That it'd be amazin', and very appropriate for Christmas?'

'Oh, yeah?' Martina said again.

He just stood there beaming.

She shook her head. 'Goodnight, Mister Boswell.'

Joey pressed his fingers to his lips, blowing her the most dramatic kiss he could manage.

Another shake of her head and she'd disappeared out the door.

She'd been teasing him again, bringing him close to his kiss and then leaving him dangling on a hook, and, Joey decided, she knew exactly what she was doing. If she were actually averse to the idea, she would have been a lot firmer, a lot more serious—that was how she was.

And now, with two days left til Christmas, Joey was sure he was in with a bit more of a chance. That, or he would do his utmost to get that kiss, so that, if nothing else, nobody could say he hadn't tried.

When he wandered in, the rest of the rabble who'd occupied the plastic chairs were busy murmuring to one another about the decorations, alternating between admiring them against their will and making snide remarks about the DHSS's motives in making the place more cheerful, to 'lure people in before they administered their torture.' Joey took his own seat, admiring the tree and taking extra pride in the knowledge that it was partially his own handiwork. He and Martina had done rather a spectacular job, if he did say so himself. And the process of doing it had certainly been fun. The temptation to lean over towards the woman sitting beside him and say I did that, was overwhelming, but Joey restrained himself from doing so. The other clients would probably lynch him for assisting with anything DHSS-related.

'Next!' Martina called. Joey, once again ignoring the fact that he was last in line, was over at her counter in a flash.

'Oi!' yelled someone behind him. 'You wait yer bloody turn, lad!'

'I am exempt from turns!' Joey called blithely over his shoulder, provoking further wrath from the other customers.

Martina gave him her usual disapproving look.

'And what makes you think you're important enough to cut the queue, Mister Boswell?'

'It is not so much my own importance,' Joey said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, 'although I won't deny that… it is more the importance of what I have to say.'

'Oh, yeah? Country closin' down because the Boswells didn't get their latest order of expensive gear delivered on time?'

'Even more important than that,' he replied. 'You see, I have been puttin' in a request for eleven days now, and I am yet to receive my dues.'

'Oh, yeah?' She leaned closer, lowering her voice. 'And what request would that be, pray?'

'I think you and I both know the answer to that, sweetheart.' He took both of her hands in his as he once again relayed the question. 'How about a kiss for Christmas?'

Martina's mouth twitched.

Then she smirked.

Then she grinned.

'No.'

She delivered the blow with some relish, and Joey's mouth dropped open.

'But…Martina… why?' Not the most eloquent defence he'd ever come up with, but, unlike his first few attempts, Joey had come in quite confident he might get her to change her mind today. Everything that had happened last night had convinced him…Martina had been flirting with him like mad, of that he was sure. 'Why not?'

Martina's eyes creased, the wickedness of her smile increasing by at least fifty per cent.

'Because you haven't got,' she said, pausing for dramatic effect, 'any mistletoe.'

'I haven't…hang on a minute!' Joey blinked and blinked again, 'I 'aven't got any mistletoe? Do you mean to tell me that if I'd brought…that I…from the beginning?'

'Don't you remember 'ow to talk in full sentences anymore, Mister Boswell?'

'J…I…y…' he stuttered.

'Or full words?'

'Martina!' Joey scolded, finding his voice again, 'you've been holdin' out on me all this time because I didn't 'ave any mistletoe?'

'Well,' she cocked her head to one side, 'p'raps not all this time. But at some point I changed me mind… I must admit, I was wonderin' when you'd get around to askin' me why not. Took you longer than I expected.'

Joey tried to process this. 'So if I…'

'You're neglectin' to finish yer sentences again, Mister Boswell.'

'If I…'

'While I leave you to think on that,' Martina said, 'I've other people ter see. As you surely must've noticed, it's nearly Christmas, and I've got a lot o' people queuein' up fer their last minute seasonal benefits.'

Joey sat, frozen to the spot. Martina eyed him meaningfully.

'NEXT!' she said, jerking her head in the direction of the door.

Joey stood and went, glancing back at her frequently as he went. He was still in shock at her remark, still unsure just exactly how he was supposed to react.

Mistletoe…all this time, if I'd had… would she have…does that mean she really did want to…

'Thanks a bunch, pal!' One of the men whom Joey had displaced in the queue advanced on him, his teeth grinding together menacingly and his hands bunched into fists. 'I was slated to go first! You'd better have a good reason fer pushin' in, or so 'elp me, you'll be pickin' up your teeth from the…'

'Sorry, mate, can't stop now,' Joey pushed the angry man out the way, flying down the DHSS steps as his brain regained control of him and he began to formulate a new plan. Well, if he were completely honest, he couldn't really call it a plan, given the fact that the opportunity to gain what he wanted had been all but giftwrapped for him, but Joey now knew exactly what he was going to do, and he was going to get it underway as soon as possible.

And come tomorrow, Joey was sure the odds would be in his favour.

On the twenty-fourth of December, Joey Boswell brought something with him to the DHSS. Flowers hadn't worked. Chocolates in a festive box hadn't worked. But the small branch of mistletoe the eldest Boswell clutched in his fist was certain to do the trick.

The DHSS was closing at midday today, presumably to allow the staff to enjoy at least half of Christmas Eve with their loved ones, but Joey, holding onto the hope that Martina would be staying behind just a little longer to pack up, waited, as he had two days ago, until the last client had exited the building. As two dumpy middle-aged women pushed their way past him, complaining at the tops of their voices about the 'sub-standard service' they received these days, he made his move, slipping through the doors and into the room.

She was there, as he'd hoped, still pushing chairs back into their proper places, her back to the door. Joey, seizing his chance, pulled the mistletoe from his pocket, along with the roll of Sellotape he'd brought, and very quietly tore off a piece with his teeth. He reached up, taping the mistletoe above the doorway, and then stealthily made his way across the room towards Martina.

The DHSS lady cried out in shock as he grabbed her around the waist, swivelling to face him and smacking him on the shoulder.

'Mister Boswell! Is it really so difficult to simply announce yerself, instead o' tryin' ter give me an 'eart attack?'

'It might not be difficult,' he said, giving her his most winning simper, 'but I think my way is far more rewardin'.'

'Oh, you do, do yer?'

'Quite,' Joey chuckled, 'but I've not made the long harrowing trip here…'

'—In yer Jaguar?'

'In me Jaguar, yes… simply to split hairs about my methods of operatin'. Now c'mere. I've got somethin' to show you.'

'Oh, yeah?'

'Right this way, madam.' He took hold of her elbows, steering her around to face the door. 'Behold! What do you think?'

Joey couldn't see her face as she took in the mistletoe, but her little laugh said it all.

Martina put one hand to her mouth. 'Well done, Mister Boswell. You've completed yer quest, I see.'

'Not quite, sweetheart. Not quite.' He turned her back around to face him, shuffling them both until they were situated just under it. 'There's one more thing I need.'

'And am I right in thinkin' I can guess the question you're about to ask me?'

'How about a kiss for Christmas?'

'Hmm,' Martina said, putting a fist to her chin, 'well, you've met me requirements, and there's only so many times I can stand firm against you when you keep wearin' me down like that…'

She moved in closer.

'You know, I think I might just let you 'ave that kiss.'

'Oh, really?' Joey did his utmost to conceal his elation at having finally succeeded. If there was room for one more tease, now he had won, it wouldn't hurt to slip it into the conversation and underline the fact he had come out on top. 'You, Martina, who prides herself on never lettin' a Boswell put one over on her, lettin' me triumph over you?

'Yes, all right, Mister Boswell. I thought I was 'avin' a Christmas kiss, not bein' force-fed a slice of humble pie…'

Joey didn't respond to her comment, though he was very pleased by it.

'You, Martina, who refuses to let anyone see her Christmas spirit? Who…'

'All right, all right, Mister Boswell! Enough o' that.' She pressed herself closer to him. 'You're frustratin' me now.'

'Oh, I'm frustratin' you, am I?' Joey was loving this conversation more and more by the minute. 'Well, I must say, sweetheart, you're long past due some frustration, after the twelve days of it I had to endure… holdin' out on me all that time, when all along I could have been enjoyin' a celebratory kiss for the holiday season if only I'd had one little mistletoe branch…'

Martina hissed impatiently. 'Mister Boswell! Shut up and kiss me, or I'll make you suffer.'

'Oh, yes? Well, I must say, I'm intrigued to find out what you have in mind by 'makin' me suffer,' but I think I'll forgo that today.' He removed his hands from her waist, placing one on either side of her face. 'Merry Christmas, sweetheart.' And with that, he tipped her head back and pressed his lips to hers.

Joey couldn't have said what he'd been expecting from this kiss—he'd spent far too much time planning how he was going to get to this point and very little imagining what happened after—but not even a full second into it, it had already exceeded all his hopes. The eldest Boswell had never been one for giving kisses away like party favours, taking it up as a pastime for a bit of fun or an addition to a drink-filled evening with a pretty girl at a bar—all his past experience in that department had been purely saved for long-term relationships. He wasn't entirely sure how one went about a casual snog, and so he'd simply approached the task as he would a clinch with one of his past special ladies, injecting passion into it, starting slowly and softly and then gradually losing himself in it. A part of him had wondered if Martina would stand still and rigid, and simply endure his Christmas kiss to shut him up, but the DHSS lady did nothing of the sort, instead melting into the lip-lock, pressing closer into him still and allowing one of her hands to stray from his shoulders and into his hair.

The light tugs at the roots of his hair, growing sharper as the kiss went on, were what caused Joey to let himself go completely, losing himself in the sensations, pushing that cautious thought about having to face Martina in the New Year and claim for things again after this to the back of his mind. Nothing mattered at that moment except for the feeling of Martina's hands curling through his tresses, her body close to his, her lips melding around his mouth, and the little twinge of victory he couldn't help but savour, which somehow intensified the sensations, made them all the better for it. Overcome by the whole experience, Joey let his restraint fall away, moving his hands from her face to rest on her hips, and then, when she didn't object to this, opening his mouth slightly and taking her lower lip between his teeth.

Martina gasped. Joey paused for a minute, breaking away, grinning at the little frustrated groan she made as he did so.

'All right, there, Martina?'

'Mister Boswell…' she murmured, instead of answering his question.

'Yes, sweetheart?' he pressed his forehead to hers, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. Martina's hands remained in his hair, curling a strand around one of her fingers.

'Isn't this a little bit over-the-top fer a Christmas kiss? Doesn't tradition dictate that kisses under the mistletoe are…well, a bit briefer?'

'Well, I've never heard that,' Joey tutted, 'what are they teachin' people these days? Anyway,' he moved to kiss her forehead, and then rested his head against hers again, 'would you have honestly preferred it to be that way?'

'I didn't say that, did I? But it does interest me ter know that you have as much disregard for other rules as you do fer the Social Security ones.'

'I maintain that that was never a rule,' he rebutted.

'Oh, you—'

'—Shush now,' Joey said, putting a finger to her lips and cutting off whatever retort she'd come up with. 'I believe we weren't quite finished.'

He removed his finger from her mouth, replacing it once more with his lips and picking up where he left off. This time, Joey went in straight for the kill, running his teeth over her lip and revelling in the way her breath hitched. Her hands tightened in his hair, and he moved his own up to the small of her back. All their little battles over the past twelve days danced through his mind as they kissed: that rib-crushing sense of defeat as she'd said no every time, the mix of sternness and jesting that laced her voice and echoed in his ears, the looks she'd given him, some austere, some with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, the way that little piece of chocolate had caught on her lip and she'd…

That particular memory had haunted him, had driven him mad with desire and intrigue, and a longing to know what it might be like to… well, he was right in the middle of the perfect opportunity to do something about it, and what was more, he was going to. Joey gently bit her lip again, seizing his chance when her mouth opened in a little gasp, and allowing his tongue to dart inside. Martina froze. It occurred to Joey briefly that he may have overstepped a line, that he really might have gone too far this time. The thought fazed him—should he continue with this, or take a step back? Then again, if she was all right with this, and he gave up now, he might never…no, he wanted to at least see if she'd let him. Having made up his mind to test the water, the eldest Boswell very tentatively reached a little further and touched the tip of her tongue with his.

The action seemed to snap Martina out of her trance, and she laughed against his mouth as she kissed him back, more ferociously than ever this time, no longer simply returning his gestures of affection but battling with him, kissing him as if to destroy him in the process, clawing at his neck and shoulders as if to tear him apart. And this, despite the slight sharpness of her nails, the slight viciousness of her whole demeanour now, was paradise.

Joey wasn't sure how long they stayed like that—time seemed to have unhooked itself from his consciousness and disappeared into the sky, but when they finally parted, he felt he'd been changed into the consistency of his Mam's custard, and it was all he could do to remain standing and not let his knees give way. He held Martina close to him, unwilling, and perhaps unable, to let go for fear they might both fall down, sighing in contentment as she rested her head against his shoulder and then allowing his own head to come to rest on top of hers.

'Merry Christmas, sweetheart,' he whispered into her hair.

'Merry Christmas,' she returned, her voice as low and scratchy as his. 'I 'ope you're 'appy now.'

Joey chuckled in spite of himself. 'Oh, yes, sweetheart. Perfectly.'

He considered, and then gently nudged her. 'And you?'

'Much as I hate to say it…I've 'ad worse Christmases than this.' That was as close to a proper admission as he was going to get off her, Joey sensed, but the way she held onto him, the way she was nuzzling lightly against his shoulder, spoke volumes. She was far from displeased by their little festive interaction.

They stood there for a few minutes more.

'Right, then,' Martina suddenly pulled away from him and out of his arms, 'I've got things to do before I go 'ome—and I would like to do so soon, considerin' it's Christmas Eve. And I've no doubt you've got yer family to get 'ome to.'

She was right, annoyingly enough—by all accounts, and more importantly, by what his watch told him, he should have been home half an hour ago to help his Mam start on the stuffing, and to keep his brothers (or at least Billy) out of the kitchen while it was being prepared. And then, after that, a whole few days of family festivities stretched out ahead of him. He really had better go and start partaking of them. He'd spent enough time over the last couple of weeks, when he should have been helping with preparations, on this little escapade, and it was about time he returned to his duties. Still, it was a shame this had had to end.

Martina's voice, as she'd said this, was slightly off the mark, a little too dreamy, still, compared to her usual clipped tones, despite the dig about his family she'd slipped in. She'd crossed back over to the counter now, and leaned on it as if her balance depended on it, her hair tousled out of its usual style so a couple of stray curls fell out of formation, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark with emotion, or desire, or confusion—Joey couldn't tell which.

He stood awkwardly, shuffling one foot, unsure what he should say, whether he should just up and go, or give her a little peck goodbye, or…what did one do in these situations? Having never partaken of a kiss just for fun before, or just because it was Christmas and he felt like marking the occasion with someone he spent the rest of the year engaging in a battle of wits with, he wasn't exactly certain what the protocols were, if indeed there were any.

A spoken goodbye would probably suffice, or another Merry Christmas, but before he could open his mouth to speak Martina had beaten him to the punch.

'Don't think, Mister Boswell,' she said, her voice still a little too soft to sound as stern as she was undoubtedly aiming for, 'that this makes any difference to anythin'. I'm out ter get you, and I always will be. Just because you got it into yer 'ead to kiss me for no apparent reason doesn't mean I'm gonna go all soppy on yer.'

Joey laughed. 'Of course not, sweetheart. Of course not. I mean, you bein' soppy. It's unimaginable.'

She snorted. 'And this doesn't give you license to now 'elp yerself to kisses whenever you like, either. It was a one-off.'

'Oh, I don't know about that, Martina,' Joey said, a brilliant idea coming into his mind, 'after all, there's always the kiss on New Year's Eve to think about…'

'We're closed on New Year's Eve.'

Joey would not be so easily dissuaded. 'In that case, you could always come along to my New Year's Eve party…'

Martina raised an eyebrow, looking more like her usual self again and less like the dreamy, post-kiss version. 'What New Year's Eve Party?'

'The one I have just this minute decided to host.'

'Oh, yeah? And who'll be at this so-called New Year's Eve Party?'

'Me…and you…'

'I 'aven't said I'll go…'

'Oh, but you will, sweetheart. You will.'

'Don't count on it, Mister Boswell.' She turned away, but not before Joey noticed the smile she was endeavouring to hide. 'Don't count on it.'

'I won't,' Joey turned towards the doors, pulling one of them open. 'I'll just rest sure in the knowledge that your enormous attraction to me will out once more.'

A piece of tinsel, hastily ripped off the Christmas tree, sailed through the air and hit him in the back just as he passed through the double doors.

'What kind of shot was that?!' Joey called back over his shoulder. 'Remind me to help you with your aim sometime, Martina!'

She yelled something back at him, which sounded faintly like that she had hit her target exactly as she'd planned, but Joey was too engulfed in his own laughter to hear her properly, and he continued to laugh all the way back to his car, and all the way home, and all the way up to his front door. He inserted his key into the lock, and paused a moment, thinking back on the highlights of the week.

No kiss for Christmas, eh, sweetheart? Challenge completed.

And, still chuckling under his breath, he turned his key and went inside.

The end... although I may do a follow up one about what happens on New Year's Eve, and how Martina might get her revenge...

I think I went a bit too far with that kiss. It's a bit steamier than I'd usually write...still, hopefully it can slide.

Merry Christmas, anyhow.