Written as part of a Christmas Instagram challenge for the twelve days of Christmas, this very HSA Christmas is a unique series set in no particular time within the series; written simply for some festive cheer.
“Move over,” Sam said, overflowing mug in his grasp as he scooted into the armchair with her.
“Fuck off, Robinson. This is my seat!” Anna exclaimed, smacking his behind with the magazine she’d been reading.
Nonetheless, Sam didn’t give up and was soon tightly snuggled in beside her, untucking the blanket from around her waist and patting it over his thighs.
“Ahhhh, lovely and toasty,” Sam said. With a blow across his coffee, he took a tentative sip before sitting back, draping an arm over the back of the armchair that was far too small for the both of them. “Have you been farting?”
“Excuse me?” Anna looked abhorred.
“Well it’s impeccably warm, that’s all I’m saying. And the house’s gas may not be working but –.”
“Stop. Just stop,” Anna instructed. She went to stand up when she found her hips lodged between the armrest and Sam.
“You can’t get up, can you?” he smirked.
“Move over,” Anna ordered.
“I can’t. I’m stuck too.”
“I need to check on the ham,” she whined.
Sam gave a whiff of the air. “It’s not burning.”
“Brilliant.” With another huff, she slumped back down into the tight spot, socked feet stretched in front of her on the footstool. They were soon joined by Sam’s, only irritating her further. “Look, Robinson, if we have to endure the next god knows how many hours together, without heating, until the others get here, can you just please stop being a dick?”
Having already picked up her magazine, Sam peered over the pages at her with a false shocked expression. “Moi? A dick? You must be mistaken. I’m excellent company.”
“You’re a dick,” Anna said tartly.
“And you’re a moody bitch,” Sam said and took another nonchalant sip of his coffee as his eyes skimmed an article about the best night moisturiser. “Now, can you quit your yacking? I’m trying to find out whether I have an oily t-zone.”
“You have an oily arse,” Anna scoffed.
Sam looked up from the magazine again, subduing a smirk as she realised how poor her insult had been. Soon, however, he went back to reading while Anna stretched over to reach for the side table for her phone. Unlocking it, she saw several apologetic texts from their friends updating them on their journeys down the country. The closest – Susannah, Sticks, Bender and Jasper – were still hours away.
“Oh this is ridiculous. It’s almost eight!” Anna exclaimed, her elbow flying out and knocking into Sam. Fortunately, he steadied his mug before the contents spilt everywhere.
With a tsk, he waved the magazine in her direction. “Calm your tits. They’ll get here when they get here.”
“And what are they coming to? A house without heating which smells faintly of your farts, a burnt ham and –.”
“Your whining?”
Anna’s eyes narrowed as she scowled across at him. “I just mean –.”
“I know what you mean,” Sam sighed. Closing the magazine, he tossed it onto the large sofa adjacent and settled back, resting his mug on his chest. “But they’re not coming here for the ham or the heat or the farts.” He wiggled his eyebrows in Anna’s direction. She rolled her eyes. “They’re coming here for Christmas so we can all be together. So will you calm down, shut up and find the remote for the TV?”
“I can’t,” Anna said glumly.
“Why not?”
“I’m stuck!” she wailed, writhing wildly in the small space Sam had left her in the armchair, sending his coffee flying again.
“Better get used to snuggling up to me,” Sam said, licking spilt coffee off of his forearm.
“What?” Anna stuttered.
“Well if that guy doesn’t turn up soon, we’ll be hunkering down in the same bed in your room.”
“No, we won’t,” Anna gasped, eyes wide with horror. “I’m not sharing a bed with you!”
“Your room is the only one with a fire.”
“You’ll sleep on the floor.”
“The floor!” Sam cried. “You’d make me sleep on the floor when you’ve got a king sized bed?”
“I’m not sharing a bed with you and your cold feet.”
“I’ll wear socks.”
“No.”
“Please? I’ll keep farting to a minimum.”
“I need to check the ham.” Anna attempted to squeeze her way out of the armchair again but to no avail. She was well and truly stuck. At least she was no longer cold, which was a plus. Even if she was stuffed beside Sam Robinson.
“The ham’s fine, woman!” Sam bellowed, howling with laughter as Anna wriggled and writhed. Setting aside his coffee, he yanked her down, pulling the blanket over both of them.
“Oh gawd, it stinks!” Anna retched.
“You love it,” Sam laughed.
It was the filthiest smell she’d ever endured but she was warm. That was one thing to be thankful for.
A very HSA Christmas Copyright © 2020 Jodie May Mullen