Mistletoe| Cobert drabble
So I asked for prompts and @crawleyfan sent me this. This will be set in the Remind Me To Never Forget verse. If you have a Christmas/Holiday theme prompt, please send it to me or choose here!
Mistletoe|| Cora X Robert|| RMTNF Verse
They had not been dating long—a few months at most, maybe a little over half a year, and it’s new and wonderful, sort of a gift that keeps on giving. It’s a surprise to him that she had actually agreed to date him, and even that they lasted this long, since he’d been nothing but a bumbling fool when he’d asked her out. He’d brought her to possibly the most unimaginative date of anyone’s life, bringing her to Museum hop since she’s an art history major and has a great appreciation for arts—more than him, actually, and it’s a bit predictable on his part. He’s more than grateful that she’d found his stumbling foolishness charming and adorable rather than awkward and off-putting, because here they are now.
She had mentioned coming home for Christmas, and he’d been saddened about the news, though he’d understood. She did spend the rest of the year in the UK, and it’s only during the holidays that she gets to spend time with her family. He’d been ready to just accept the fact that their first holiday together as a couple would be spent apart until she’d asked him to come along if he can and want to. He would have jumped at the chance to go, except he’d been worried about meeting her family for the first time. This, this relationship he has with Cora is something he knows will last, and though he has no claims on forever, he knows that he is in this for the long haul, and so he’s really wanted to make a good impression on her family.
From what he’s heard of her family, he knows they’re extremely protective of her, her father more especially, and he knows how important it is for her that they should like him, because it’s important for him, too.
Luckily for him, after an initial tension between himself and her father, Isidore, they’d found a truce for Cora’s sake and the spirit of the Holidays (her family having been half Jewish celebrate both Christmas and Hanukah). The tension had risen once more when Cora’s mother had insisted they share a bedroom and it’s been clear on Isidore’s face that it isn’t exactly ideal.
Isisdore had not said anything though, and Robert had taken it like water to his back, and tried to enjoy the rest of his holiday with his girlfriend.
As it is now, they are sitting together in the den, resting after a party the Levinsons’ had thrown for their friends. Cora had told him that it’s an annual thing for their family, and it’s one of those days that her mother gets to gloat without it looking like she’s gloating because she’s doing it for the festivities. Robert had chuckled at that and had thought how alike his mother and hers are, except neither one of them would probably agree.
Cora’s head is pillowed against his chest as they sit in silence, watching the flames turn into embers, and he’s dropping soft kisses against her head, his nose burying against her soft, raven hair. He stills when she lifts her head to look up at him sleepily.
“Thank you,” she murmurs in a soft, low voice. “Thanks for coming with me here, even when you had your own family celebrations.”
He smiles at her and kisses her forehead, drops kisses against her nose and cheeks. “I won’t miss it for the world,” he tells her, and though they are mere words, he finds that he means them more than anything. “I’m glad I get to celebrate the holidays with you and your family. Thank you for inviting me.”
She grins up at him. “You know…” she trails off and he looks at her curiously, “I realize that there is something we haven’t done since we’ve been here.”
He looks into her blue eyes and sees the mischief lighting them up, and he knows, knows exactly what she’s thinking, and yes, they havemade love before, are active in that regard and they do enjoy a rather healthy sexual relationship, but he’s not about to…not here, not when her father is two doors down, waiting for a good reason to shoot Robert right in the skull.
“Cora,” he warns, and he sits up straighter, forcing her to take the seat next to him. She pouts up at him and he sighs. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” she asks petulantly, and looks at him with those blue doe eyes, in that very way that makes him want to give her the world should she ask him to.
Is he in deep? Yes, he is. Is he whipped? Looks like it. Does he care? Nope, he does not at all.
“Cora, your parents…” he trails off, hoping that she understands without him having to say it.
“Are sleeping and probably knows we’re boning each other, considering how my mother insists we stay in the same room?” she says, and damn, she makes a good point, but still. “My parents are not that old fashioned.”
Probably. Still, Robert shakes his head and stands with a sigh. He reaches a hand to her and waits till she clasps hers with his and she stands. She looks like the cat that ate the canary, until he looks at her dead straight in the eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry my love, it feels weird.”
She makes a face at that and sighs, but still relents, letting him lead her into their bedroom without a word. They make it halfway through the den before she digs her heels and stops in her tracks.
“What is it baby?” he asks, looking back at her to see what is wrong.
She’s grinning at him, though, and looking at him with that glint in her eyes that spells mischief.
“What?” he asks, but she doesn’t say a word, only crooks her finger and wags it in a come hither way. “My love?”
Her grin grows wider, and when he steps closer to her, she wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer. He’s confused, but cannot say he’s not enjoying the closeness. He looks at her eyes and can see the happiness shining in them, and he wishes, hopes his eyes convey the same for he is happy, so fucking happy, stupidly happy.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells her sincerely as he reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He feels something warm bloom in his chest when he notices a pleasant tint blooming on her cheeks.
She licks her lips and then looks up with a smile. “Would you look at that?” she says and he follows her gaze only to find the ceiling peppered in mistletoe. Martha’s idea of a good time apparently consists of drinks and a lot of drunken, mistletoe pecks and kisses.
He laughs at her then, shakes his head because he knows she’d been fully aware of the mistletoes overhead and that she’d stopped here for that very same reason.
What a little minx.
But far would it be for him to not kiss her when mistletoes are overhead. After all, it’s Christmas tradition. Shaking his head in amusement at her ingenuity, he smiles and then leans closer to press a soft kiss against her lips.
It’s weird and new, to feel like this—like it’s the first kiss all over again, as butterflies make cartwheels inside his stomach and it flutters and flutters, and he feels as though he is floating himself—to feel as though it’s new though so familiar, so good, so marvellous. He’s never been poetic, not really, but the way he feels now, he can damn well write Shakespearean sonnets after sonnets.
The kiss gets heated and hands start to roam, and though he still doesn’t want to…well make love when they are under the same roof as her parents and with a gun so easily accessible for her father, he indulges in this—this sweet kiss full of promise and cheer, and dare he say it, love.
He pours his everything into the kiss, and though he cannot say it yet, he makes sure that by the time they pull away, she has no more questions of what he really feels for her…
That she won’t doubt how much he truly loves her.