Title: Christmas Tradition
Genre: Family/Romance/Comedy
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Image: One can be found on my profile page!
Summary: Some family bonding, memories, and a little Christmas tradition that started it all.

Christmas Tradition

1/1

"Hey, Robin," Oliver called out to the eleven year old boy walking past him, fiddling with his iPod, "you wanna give your dad a hand with this?" he asked, motioning to the bundle of lights around his arms.

"What are you doing?" his son asked, lifting a blond brow, epitomizing his father when he's being scathing.

"Putting up Christmas lights, what's it look like?" he asked, lifting a challenging brow back. "Your mom said we're the only ones on the block without them," he muttered, rolling his eyes, shrugging. She'd been complaining for days and he finally had the time to get it done. He'd been bogged down with work and the league, but he had a couple days off now, so it seemed like as good a time as any.

Robin stared up at him rather incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest. "Uh, dad, have you seen the size of our house? That'll take hours!" he said, motioning to the Queen mansion behind them. "Where's mom? She would'a helped you."

Oliver sighed. "She's wrapping presents down at the Church for the orphanage. Your sister's are with her."

Robin nodded as if he remembered his mother mentioning something. "Hey, remember last year? When you tried to put them up with arrows," he asked, grinning.

Oliver frowned. "Don't remind your mother," he muttered.

His son cracked up with laughter. The experiment with his arrows and the lights hadn't turned out well. In the end, they hadn't had lights up that year. They had to settle with the lawn display, which his wife hadn't been happy with. She had told him, in no uncertain terms, that any lights going up were not to be accompanied by arrows. He might've taken out a window or three last time, and scared the gardener out of her wits, but it was all in the name of Christmas!

"So where's the ladder?" his son wondered, rocking back on his heels.

Oliver sighed. He knew he forgot something. Here he was wrangling with outdoor lights and wondering how he was going to get them up and he had no ladder to assist him. The roof was far too high for him to reach on any regular ladder and he started wondering where the ladder they kept for cleaning the gutters was. He blew out a heavy breath which made a puff of white appear in front of him. "Come on," he said, sighing. "We'll check the shed."

"So Megan and Natalie are with mom?" Robin asked, following his dad to the backyard of the vast property. The snow crunched beneath their booted feet and the chilly air left their cheeks red and their noses runny.

"Natalie wanted to go out to a Christmas party, but your mom found out it was unsupervised and roped her into helping with the gift wrapping," Oliver told him, shrugging. "And you know Meg, she doesn't leave your mom's side if she can help it."

At six years old, Megan was the baby of the family and she was the shyest of all the family. With long, wavy blonde hair and warm brown eyes, she was the epitome of adorable. She stuck close to her mom, hiding behind her legs when strangers came near. The only thing that pulled her out of her shyness was her bow and arrow. She'd happily spend hours practicing with her dad in the backyard and not bat an eye at anybody that stopped by, too engrossed with her talent.

Natalie was their oldest, at fifteen, and becoming more rebellious every day. She was beautiful and out spoken, very much her mother's daughter. She never hesitated in saying what she felt was her right to freedom. She wanted to stay out as long as she could, to date boys far too old for her, drive the Mercedes and drink to her hearts content at the many parties she was invited to. She was a constant worry to her parents, but she was a good kid. She worked hard in school, was always polite and kind, and knew wrong from right. She just wanted to experience her youth and her parents knew the world for its darkness, so they weren't ready to let her spread her wings.

Robin was their middle child, but he acted much older and tended to keep to himself. He looked like a younger version of his father, but his mom's green eyes. He was funny and curious like his mom. While he didn't say it often, his dad was his hero. He wanted to be just like him and took an active interest in his work; both with Queen Industries and the Justice League. He loved music, learning to play the guitar from a young age, and had penned out a few songs that he only let his mom and sister Megan hear. He was smart and rather popular at his school, but he'd learned quickly to stand up for the underdog as his father had taught him. He was genuinely well liked, but always a little wary about friends, given his wealth and what he knew his parents did for the world behind the scenes.

"Robbie?" Oliver called, motioning to the ladder folded up against the wall. "You wanna help me with this?"

"With all the bench pressing you do, you shouldn't need me to help you," Robin replied, walking forward to grab the other end.

"Don't think I didn't notice you in there working out a couple days ago," he replied, smirking. He walked backwards through the snow, holding the rather heavy steel ladder between them.

Robin blushed. "Just wondered how heavy it all was," he said, feigning indifference.

"Hey, I have no problem with it. You want to work out, go ahead."

Robin looked up at him rather sheepishly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Just, start out small. Your mom finds out I let you play around with the heavy weights and she'll kick me out onto the couch." He lifted his brows, a small smile quirking his mouth.

He laughed, shaking his head at his dad. "You always say that, but I haven't seen you spend one night on the couch yet."

Oliver grinned, shrugging. "I'm a good apologizer."

Robin snorted, rolling his eyes.

They came to a stop where they'd left the lights and stood back rather appraisingly. "How long do you think it'll take?"

"Really, really long," Robin told him, sighing.

"Maybe we should get Clark over here," Oliver suggested, face lighting up. "He's got that hovering thing down now, right?"

"Uncle Clark is probably still working on Aunty Lois' house," his son replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "She can't make up her mind."

Oliver frowned. "Well, we better get to work then…"

"I vote we try the bow and arrows again," Robin replied, leaning to one side and staring up at his dad with excited hope.

He snorted. "Yeah, right, and I'll just set the couch up early."

His son exhaled heavily. "Mom's expression would be priceless if it worked though!"

"It would be just as priceless when it doesn't!" Oliver shook his head. "Maybe we can just put up some tonight and then some more another night." He turned to his son. "Think she'll go for it?"

Robin lifted a brow.

"Yeah, me either," Oliver agreed, frowning. "Help me untangle these things." He picked up the knotted lights and handed one end to Robin.

"Hey dad?" Oliver looked up at him questioningly. "How long have you and mom been together?" he wondered, his brows furrowing.

"Uh…" He lifted his chin, his eyes turning to the side. "'Bout eighteen years this Christmas."

"You got together on Christmas?" he asked, surprise ringing in his voice.

Oliver grinned, nodding. "Yeah, all because of a little mistletoe."

Robin wrinkled his nose. "Ew, dad."

He chuckled. "You wait 'til you're older, you'll learn to love the stuff."

"Hey, I don't mind kissing girls now. I just don't wanna think about you and mom kissing," he replied defensively.

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah? What girls have you been kissing?"

His son mumbled under his breath, eyes falling and shoulders shrugging noncommittally.

"Not time for that talk already, is it?" he teased.

"Daaaad!" Robin whined, flushing with embarrassment.

"Your mom's gonna get a kick outta this," Oliver told him, grinning.

"You can't tell mom!" his son replied, outraged.

"What? Why?" he asked, rather baffled. He'd been so used to sharing everything with her, the idea of keeping something like this, as small as it seemed to so many other secrets they shared, was just odd.

"Because, she'll bug me about who it is and then ask if she's my girlfriend and she'll wanna know all about her. She'll probably do a background check on her parents!" he railed.

Oliver tried to hide his smile, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds like your mom."

"Just don't tell her, okay?" he pleaded.

He sighed. "Fine." He wondered if crossing his fingers counted at his age.

Robin nodded. "So, you guys have been together eighteen years, huh?"

"Yup." Oliver found a particularly nasty knot in the lights that just wouldn't budge. He used his teeth to take his gloves off, finding them a hindrance.

"Long time," his son said in what seemed to be a causal tone.

Oliver shrugged. "Guess so." How do these lights get knotted up anyway? Hadn't they just bought them a few weeks ago? They came out of a box perfectly fine! What went wrong?

"How'd you know you wanted to be with her forever?" Robin asked heavily.

His hands stilled on the lights and Oliver looked up at his son with a furrowed brow. "What's with all the questions, Robbie?"

He shrugged, eyes turning off. "Jaime's parents have been fighting a lot." He shifted around on his feet uncomfortably. "They're getting a divorce. They've been together twenty-three years," he told him, eyes wide. "We looked it up and it said that over fifty percent of people get divorces!"

Oliver nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You worried your mom and I are gonna split up?"

"No, I just—I mean I—" Robin sighed. "Maybe. I dunno."

"Do we fight a lot?" he queried calmly.

"No, but you're always saying she's gonna throw you out on the couch. Jaime's mom was always sending his dad out to the couch," he replied, his shoulders slumping.

He nodded, sighing to himself. "Some people, Robin, they just change. They grow apart or they fall out of love. It happens. Not everybody is meant to be together forever." He shrugged, biting his lip. "But you're mom and I, we aren't like them. There may be an over fifty percent divorce rate, but that doesn't mean that all couples break up." He reached out, gripping his young son's shoulder. "I've been with your mom for eighteen years and I don't plan on that ending any time soon. She's my partner and my friend and the best thing in my life." He grinned. "Besides you brats, of course."

"Natalie's the brat, I'm not a brat!" he defended, grinning.

"Yeah? Well I don't know about Natalie, but you've apparently been kissing all kinds of girls without my knowing!" he reminded teasingly.

Robin rolled his eyes. "Just a couple."

"A couple? Wow," Oliver said, smiling crookedly. "Becoming the young Hugh Hefner?"

He snorted. "Dad!" he whined, shaking his head.

Oliver messed up his hair, wrapping an arm around Robin's shoulders. "So, you're not worried anymore, right?"

Robin shook his head. "Nah. Now that I think about it, it was kinda stupid. I mean… You and mom are really close. And I know she loves you." He smirked. "For some reason. I dunno!"

Oliver laughed. "Yeah, she's pretty in love with me, huh?"

Robin looked up at him, his expression amused. "Don't even try and pretend like you aren't totally whipped!"

"I am not!" he denied.

"Totally are!" Robin said, shaking his head. "Mom has you wrapped around her finger. She says jump, you say, 'Can I bring my bow and arrow?'"

He laughed. Before he could reply, car lights flashed over the house in front of them.

"Uh, I think we ran out of time on those lights."

"Yeah…" Oliver looked over to the Explorer as his wife and two daughters jumped out.

"Natalie, we're not done talking," his wife called out as his eldest daughter slammed her car door and stalked toward the house. "You cannot flirt with a priest! It's just… It's completely rude!"

"He was cute!" Natalie shouted back, turning around and crossing her arms petulantly. "And I was just playing around. Come on, mom, it wasn't like I was making out with him in the back room!"

His wife sighed, pressing a hand against her temple. "I just want you to show a little more respect next time, please!"

"Fine. Whatever. Can I go?"

"Help your sister with her bags," she commanded.

Stomping, Natalie made her way to the back door to open it and helped her six year old sister to the ground.

"Daddy! Daddy, look!" Megan cried out, rushing across the snow toward him. She jumped up and he caught her in his arms, lifting her up to eye level. "I made a snow flake, see!"

"Wow," Oliver said, looking at the sparkly little ornament his daughter had made. "It's really pretty."

"Ya huh!" She turned and held it out to Robin. "See, Robbie? I made it all myself!"

"Good job, Megs," her brother told her, smiling.

"Lock the door please, Natalie," he heard his wife call out as she shut her own door and walked across the snow toward them. "Nice lighting job, Queen. I'm practically blinded right now!" she said sarcastically.

"I was working on it," he replied charmingly. He tilted his head forward to press a brief kiss against her lips, which she met easily. "But I don't think it's going to get done tonight."

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "Come on, let's go inside. I'll make hot chocolate."

"Yes! With marshmallows?" Robin asked excitedly.

She smiled down at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Of course."

Carrying Megan, Oliver followed behind them. Natalie appeared beside him, her mouth pouting as she grumbled under her breath. "Have fun?" he asked her, his mouth quirked on one side.

She glared up at him. "Yeah. Tons," she replied sarcastically. "So much better than any really cool party could've ever been. I'm so glad I was excluded from one of the best parties of the year so I could wrap crappy presents!"

"The children will appreciate it, Natty," his wife told her.

"Whatever," Natalie muttered.

"Wipe your feet," his wife ordered as they entered the front door. Boots, coats, scarves and gloves were discarded in the front doorway, piled up messily to one side.

The group of five made their way to the spacious kitchen where his wife searched the cupboards for the hot chocolate container and bag of marshmallows. He and the three kids sat down on the stools at the island. "So how'd it go?" he asked.

"Good," his wife replied, pulling out a pot from the lower cupboard by the stove. "I have a few papercuts, I ran out of tape four times, but everything is wrapped and ready to go." She grinned at him. She did this every year, as well as a few other charitable works in the city. They were also supporting three different low income families for Christmas hampers. Christmas was her favorite season and she made sure she did all she could for everyone less fortunate than them.

"Great," he said, nodding. "Now we just have to wrap the presents for these guys." He ruffled Robin's hair, which he immediately tried to right, frowning at his down to hide his smile.

She shook her head, "Nope. Natalie was right. Those presents weren't nearly good enough. I think this year's most charitable work would be to donate all of their gifts to charity. So all those kids can get something really great this year!" she announced, smiling.

"What? But- But- MOM!" Natalie cried out, her eyes wide.

"Aw, but I wanted a new bow!" Robin whined, slumping in his seat.

"I could give them my snowflake, too!" Megan said happily, holding up the glittery red ornament.

Oliver smiled at his youngest daughter proudly.

"Just for that, I'm reconsidering that pony you asked for," he told her, kissing her cheek.

"Oh! I could show the orphanasis how to ride her. They'll like Sparkle, right daddy?"

He suppressed a laugh. "I'm sure the orphanasis will love Sparkle… If you're mom and I decide to get her." His daughter was just as kind of heart as her mother. So young and innocent and sweet to the smallest hair on her head.

She clapped, smiling.

"Orphans, baby," his wife corrected. "And we'll think really hard about getting Sparkle, okay?" She sent a look at her husband telling him she didn't think it was a great idea and wasn't happy that he'd said they'd reconsider. He knew in the end they'd probably get Sparkle, but she'd probably invite the children from the neighborhood and the orphanage for a day of free rides on Boxing day or something.

"Okay!"

"Does this mean we're still getting out presents?" Natalie wondered, lifting a brow.

His wife sighed. "Sometimes, I wish you were still six years old."

Natalie snorted. "Yeah, I know."

The water began to boil on the stove and he watched her prepare the cups with a few marshmallows and take the whip cream out from the fridge. She was still just as beautiful as she'd been when he first met her; all soft curves and warm smiles. She had a biting wit and a great sense of humor that always had him grinning. Eighteen years later, she had a few more wrinkles, some grey hairs, and her hips were a little wider from their three children, but he loved her just as much.

"It's not all about fancy gifts, Natty," Oliver told her, staring at his daughter rather disappointed. "We could buy you everything you ever wanted, but it wouldn't make you happy."

"I wouldn't bet on that," she replied, crossing her arms petulantly.

Frowning, his wife placed Natalie's cup of hot chocolate in front of her. "You want your presents this year, Nat? Then you can work for them. Prove that you deserve them. There's a food drive on Sunday and I volunteered to serve lunch at the homeless shelter next Wednesday. I'll expect you to be up and ready to help."

Natalie's face fell, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping in astonishment. While his daughter was surprised, Oliver wasn't in the least. He hoped it taught her something.

"But- But- This is so unfair! What about Robin?" she pouted.

"I think you need this more than he does, sweetheart," her mother replied, staring at her evenly. "Maybe you'll learn a little something."

"Look," Natalie sighed, "I know I'm spoiled and I know that money and presents aren't everything. But this is Christmas, okay? I just didn't want to be left out!" She threw her arms up uselessly.

"And you won't be. You'll be a big part of it. For this family and all the other underprivileged people out there."

"Daddy?" she pleaded, turning to him.

He shrugged, uneasily. "Sorry, Nat-a-bean, you're mom's right."

She huffed angrily, stirring her hot chocolate and muttering to herself about the unfairness of the situation.

Hot chocolate was passed around to all of them and they happily enjoyed the delicious drink. Megan broke out her felts and started drawing pictures for them, all of which she wanted put on the fridge for display. She fell asleep on her pink pony drawing, felt still in hand, and Oliver carried her up to her bedroom, tucking her beneath her colourful blanket and kissing her forehead. Her room was the brightest in the house, all sorts of colors in every shade imaginable.

Not too long later, Natalie left for her bedroom to work on homework. He knew she'd probably be on the phone for the next hour, ranting about them, but her homework would get done and that was all that mattered. The experience his wife was planning for his eldest daughter was something she needed. She wasn't exactly selfish; she just tended to think more of herself than others sometimes. She had a good heart, but she was a kid still and she loved the presents that Christmas awarded her with.

"Hey mom," Robin called out from his seat beside his dad. "Can I come to the food drive, too?"

"Yeah, if you want to," she replied, smiling at him. "More the merrier."

"Cool," he said, nodding. He then yawned and stood up from the stool.

"Time for bed, mister," she told him, tilting her head to kiss his forehead.

"Okay," he sighed. "'Night," he told them, walking toward the door of the kitchen.

"Love you," his mom called out.

"You too," he replied.

"Alone at last," Oliver said, grinning up at his wife.

She smiled. Picking up her hot chocolate, she made her way toward the living room, glancing back to see him following her. She took a seat on the couch, adjacent to the large, glittery Christmas tree the whole family had decorated together. Their cat Jazzy was asleep beneath it, one of the bell ornaments on the floor next to her paw. Their fireplace was lit up and flickering warmly across from them, heating up the room and giving it a romantic glow.

His arm slid around his wife's shoulder as she laid her head against him. She sighed softly, one of her hands falling to rub at his stomach contently.

His eyes fell closed for a moment, reveling in the quiet of the house and the comfort he sat in. It was nice not to think about patrolling or business or tangled lights. Just to hold her, sit calmly in their nicely decorated living room, and simply relax. It brought to mind what his son had said earlier and he wondered if Robin had really worried they could ever break up. They'd had their disagreements, of course. Every couple did. But he'd never once thought of divorce. He'd been in love with her for eighteen years and he couldn't really imagine what life would've been like had he not kissed her that Christmas night beneath the mistletoe.

It was 2008, Christmas at the Kent farm with all of his friends. Egg nog was passed around religiously, most spiked, few not. There was chips, hot apple cider, meat, cheese and vegetable platters, fruit cake, home made cookies, and no low abundance of chocolate or candy canes. Laughter was at an all time high, cheer was on everyone's list, and he'd never felt more comfortable in his life. Mrs. Kent was a great host, welcoming all who came and making sure they all had enough of her cookies. She'd made a delicious turkey dinner with all the trimmings and the entire group had pigged out on it and ended up with more than full stomachs.

He sat listening to Clark tell a story about a former Christmas involving his dad, his eyes wide, smile big, and his arms waving around with emphasis. He had everybody laughing and Lois seemed to be smiling at him in a way that spoke far more than just friendship. She'd been looking at him like that a lot lately. Oliver had always noticed something between Clark and Lois, even if they didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't be surprised when they finally let the sarcasm fall and just be together.

Noticing his nog was low, he stood up from the couch and made his way into the kitchen. She was slicing up more cheese and pickles for one of the platters at the counter. Looking up, she smiled warmly at him. "Hey," she greeted.

"Hey," he replied, walking toward the fridge to pull out one of the many cartons of egg nog. After filling his glass, he walked back over to her, reaching over her shoulder to nick a piece of cheese. She slapped his hand, frowning at him, but he just grinned back and ate his winnings.

"No big Christmas party somewhere in Europe this year, Queen?" she asked, her mouth quirking.

He shrugged. "They never have the right cheese at those things," he replied, smirking.

She rolled her eyes. "It's just cheddar."

He snorted. "Tell them that."

She shook her head, chuckling under her breath.

He leaned back against the counter, watching her from the side of his eyes as she finished slicing up the cheese and piled them on the empty space of the silver platter.

She looked up at him curiously.

"So," he said, letting out a sigh. "Where's your dad?"

She frowned. "Working."

"On Christmas?" he asked, lifting a brow.

She shrugged sadly. "He was supposed to be back but something came up."

Oliver nodded sagely.

She gave him a half-smile. "Maybe next year."

He nodded. He hoped for her it would happen. He wasn't used to seeing her so down.

She reached out, taking his glass from him and taking a long drink. She smacked her lips, winking at him before she handed back his glass. "Now we're even."

Putting his now empty cup down on the counter, he grinned at her boldness.

She picked up the platter and walked it over to the table all the food sat on, placing it down between a bowl of chips and a vegetable plate. She dusted her hands off, job well done, and turned to walk back toward the living room. He walked with her, for some reason feeling like he needed to be near her. She smelled good; like cinnamon and apples. And he found the dim fire light made her green eyes glitter.

She smiled up at him, her mouth quirking with amusement. "See something you like, Queen?" she teased flirtatiously.

He smirked. "Careful, sidekick, I'm a dangerous guy to get involved with," he replied.

Her smile grew. "Danger's my middle name."

"Hey," Mrs. Kent's voice called out, drawing their attention to her. She grinned at them in a rather mischievous way. She pointed up above their hands and tipped her head. "Christmas tradition, kids."

A sprig of green and red mistletoe sat temptingly above their heads. Oliver's eyes widened and he looked back at Mrs. Kent who didn't look like she was going to just let them walk away from it. For some reason, he felt like he had to obey the tradition. He told himself it wasn't because her mouth was pouty and pink and perfect, or that the way her blonde hair fell in her eyes made him want to push it off her face for her. It was just tradition!

She stared up at him almost challengingly. "Not afraid are ya, Queen?" she teased. "I won't bite if you don't want me to," she whispered, winking.

He smirked, licking his lips and tipping his head.

"I don't have all nigh—"

His mouth descended on hers before she could finish her sentence; lips slanting possessively. He meant to make it quick, to leave her breathless and rather disoriented, but when she kissed back, he got a little lost. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through her blonde hair. Her lips parted for him, tongue dueling with his for dominance. She was an incredible kisser. She tasted like hot apple cider, shortbread cookies, and something all her. Hot, sweet, and absolutely delicious. He felt his feet moving beneath him and within a few steps he had her pressed against the doorjamb. Her hands fell on his biceps, sliding up until her arms were wrapped around his neck, fingers tracing the curve and fiddling with the small hairs she found. His other hand found her hip, sliding up her side and holding it tightly. Her body arched up into his and he felt her every curve pressed against him; soft against hard.

He'd always imagined kissing her would be great; an experience worth trying. He'd always thought her intelligent, cunning, and unbelievably attractive. But he'd never thought it would be this right; this perfect. He'd never fell into a kiss so easily. Maybe it was because he knew her; had been friends with her for nearly two years, had worked off and on with her for a year, and trusted her with his secret identity, no doubts. There was a connection there, he decided. It wasn't just attraction; there could be so much more.

They were interrupted by Clark, who told them not to have any more spiked egg nog. He didn't tell his friend he hadn't had anything to drink for hours, wanting to stay alert. Instead, he stuck close to her and later that night, they followed tradition under every piece of mistletoe in the house. He asked her out on a coffee date the next morning and they'd been together since. They married after two years of dating, had Natalie a year later, Robin following four years after, and Megan had surprised them seven years before. They weren't planning on have any more children, but they'd been just as happy when they'd found out as they had been with their first two.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him quietly, her hand patting his flat stomach.

He looked down at her, finding that same spark he'd felt eighteen years ago light up inside him. "When we got together," he replied, kissing her temple.

She sighed, squeezing him in a hug. "Seems like forever ago."

He smiled, rubbing her hip. "Feels like yesterday to me."

She looked up at him, grinning. Putting her hot chocolate down on an end table, she threw her leg over his lap so she was straddling his legs. "You still think you're too dangerous for me, Queen?" she asked him flirtatiously. Her head fell to one side, eyes boring into his, glittering with laughter.

He smirked. "Danger's your middle name, isn't it?"

She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him gently. "Chloe," she murmured, nuzzling her nose with his, lips hovering against his. "Danger." She nipped his mouth before laving it with her tongue. "Queen." She kissed him full on, tongues twisting together, teeth grating over lips, noses brushing. Her body pressed into him, thighs tightening against his. His arms wrapped around her, hands splaying out over her back, bunching her red sweater up in his palms.

He leaned her sideways on the couch until she was beneath him, hair laying around her head in a golden halo. He held himself up on his elbows, reaching out to brush a blonde strand off her cheek, tracing it with his thumb. "You're beautiful."

She smiled softly, her hand lifting to press her thumb against the cleft in his chin. "You're not so bad yourself."

He smirked, "I have my good days."

She chuckled, licking her lips.

He tilted his chin, kissing a trail over her cheek.

One of her hands ran through his hair slowly, nails grazing his head and sending shivers down his back. He found the sensitive spot behind her ear and suckled it until she bit her lip and let out a soft moan. "Ollie," she murmured breathily.

"Mm," he replied, trailing down her neck.

"Eighteen years," she told him. He lifted his head and stared at her, nodding slightly. "And I still love you as much as I did then."

His mouth turned up in a grin. "I love you, too, Chlo."

"You ready for another eighteen years, Queen?" she asked, stroking his hair and staring up at him with mischievous green eyes.

"Eighteen, thirty, whichever," he replied, shrugging. He laughed lightly before leaning forward to kiss her again.

Neither noticed the eleven year old boy sitting on the bottom step, smiling to himself. He had nothing to fear. He wondered why he'd ever really thought they could be like those statistics he read.

Standing up from the stairs, he hurried up so they wouldn't notice him. He wondered if his friend Tessa would still be awake. It was winter break after all. She'd assured him at least a dozen times that his parents were a long lasting couple and he wanted to let her know she was right. Checking the time, he found it was going on eleven. Sighing, he made his way to his room to go to bed. He'd have to talk to her in the morning. He paused at his parents bedroom and looked up at the sprig of mistletoe above the doorway. Stretching up on his tip toes, he managed to pull it off. Maybe he could give Christmas tradition a try with Tessa. It was her favorite season after all.

End

Author's Note: I never write seasonal pieces, but this came to mind when I was driving around with my dad and saw all the beautiful christmas displays. It all just sort of came out after that. I hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think! Reviews are sustenance, readers! Love yas - Fina!