Violent violet and bubblegum pink

Tiny feet patter on the floor.

She peeeeers around the corner of the doorway--and shrieks "Pwesents! Kwimas Time!"

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There's a startled thump, and about ten seconds, later, a bleary-eyed witch shuffles out into the living room, grinning sleepily.

Give her a break. It's barely dawn, and she's not a morning person.

"Happy Christmas, sweetheart."

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Glomp of doom.

It's not just ANY morning! It's CHRISTMAS MORNING, DORA!

"MEWWY KWIMAS PWESENTS NOW?"

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Laughing, 'Dora passes a hand over Sunny's blonde curls and then hugs her. "Don't you wanna wait for your dad? He's a little slower than I am."

There are Sounds, though, coming from the bedroom.

Rather like a disgruntled bear emerging from hibernation.

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...

She's torn.

"Dora open pwesent fwom Sunny! Dora open pwesent fwom Sunny!"

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"...Well, I suppose that might be do-able."

'Dora eases herself down onto the sofa, one hand at her belly, and makes herself comfortable.

"All right. I'm ready."

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Another shriek of glee as she runs off.

A small demon bunny ducks out of hiding and gives Dora a look that says clearly, "SAVE ME BEFORE SHE SQUASHES ME."

Too soon (in Hiss' opinion) Sunny returns, holding a somewhat flat looking pile of wrapping paper.

She couldn't find tape, so it's just wrapped around several times.

In it is a piece of paper that she drenched in glue and then glitter.

Lots of glitter.

Lots and lots and LOTS of glitter.

Some of it leaks out of the package as she flops it on Dora's lap and settles next to her. "Fo' Mummy!"

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"Oh, my!"

'Dora's grinning like mad as she very carefully unwraps the package, because it was so obviously all done by her daughter.

The glitter -- all the colours of the rainbow, it seems -- flies into the air with every movement and settles down into their hair.

Yup. That's gonna be there all day.

The witch is a little sniffly as she hugs Sunny tightly. "Thank you, Sunshine. I love you."

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"Love 'oo too, Mummy," solemnly, wrapping her arms around Dora.

Kinda. She is small, Dora is Very Big atm. But she tries.

"Made just fo' 'oo."

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There is a Bernard stumbling in the direction of the kitchen.

That autimatic coffeemaker was the best purchase ever. Better than the range. Better than the standing mixer.

Coffee. Mmm.

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To Sunny, in a stage whisper: "I think your daddy's up. Why don't you go wish him a happy Christmas?"

Yup. Totally evil, 'Dora is.

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So evil.

GLOMP OF DOOM TAKE TWO.

"MEWWY KWIMAS DADDY PWESENTS NOW?"

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There is flailing.

"Urg. Umma. Coffee. Then presents."

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Heartbroken stare.

She waited! For HIM!

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Fuck.

"Um. Just. Wait here, munchkin."

He shuffles to the kitchen. Coffee is procured. Yes.

Aaaaand, he's back.

"Okay. Presents."

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Nymphadora leans over to kiss him firmly as he sits beside her. "Happy Christmas, love."

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"Fo' Ber'd," happily, ignoring the kissing and sneaking up on Ber'd's lap.

He's presented with a package much like Dora's, but his has more red glitter.

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"Mmf. Merry Christmas," Bernard replies sleepily, and pats his hair down as he takes the present from Sunny.

He puts his coffee down and unwraps it with much care. It doesn't work. The glitter gets everywhere.

He can't stop grinning.

"Thank you, sweetheart. It's beautiful."

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She eyes it fondly. "Yes. Yes, is. Welcome, Daddy!"

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'Dora plants a kiss on Sunny's cheek, and then Bernard's.

"Shall we open the stockings, now?"

She casts a significant glance over to the mantle, where the previously-empty socks have MYSTERIOUSLY FILLED overnight.

Hmmmmm.

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aj_crawley

At a respectable hour of the afternoon, there comes a knocking at the door. Well... an elbowing. Slightly muffled, what with the thick (yet stylish) overcoat the elbower is wearing, but audible nonetheless.

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And a much more awake and put together Bernard opens the door and leans against the jamb lazily.

"Sorry. This is a holy day. Can you come back tomorrow?"

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"Bernard! Let him in!"

Dora comes into view as well and smacks her husband on the behind. "Happy Christmas, Crowley." She leans up to kiss him. "Come in, come in."

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aj_crawley

"And happy Christmas to you too, 'Dora," he replies, pointedly ignoring Bernard. Um, with love. "The angel's here too, but he got ambushed out in the bar. I stole the goods and abandoned him to his fate."

True enough, under one of Crowley's arms are a number of packages, festive reindeers and Santas contrasting with sleek gold on black. Go on, guess which ones are from whom. The other arm is carrying a small wooden crate, the contents of which promise to be both expensive and alcoholic.

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