Baby It's Cold Outside

  Blaire's questing fingers hovered an inch below the bag of marshmallows she was trying to reach. She was on her tip-toes, one hand holding onto the shelf below the marshmallows and the other stretched out above her. She blew her bangs out of her face irritably and considered how she was going to reach the sweets without involving Prosper, who, she was sure, would tease her endlessly if she asked for his help.
  
  Cursing him and his infernal height, she braced one foot on the trash can underneath the shelves and began to pull herself up. Grabbing the marshmallows triumphantly in one hand, she gave a yelp of surprise when two arms twined around her waist, steadying her. Turning around and seeing a grin on Prosper's face, she shot a glare at him, hoping it would keep the teasing at bay.

"What, no thank you?" Prosper said, mock surprise in his voice.

  "My hero," She said absentmindedly, throwing him a grin to take away some of the bite from the phrase.

  She bounced from the pantry to the kitchen, cheerfulness in her every step, holding her prize tightly, and she had come to a stop in front of the counter when she realized that Prosper was still talking.

  "-not that you'd ever notice, anyway," He continued, oblivious to the fact that she had no idea what he was talking about, "But that's why you have me to remind you of it."

  His mischevious smirk gave her the suspicion that he was teasing her, but she eventually decided that nothing could ruin her happiness tonight and began searching for some matches to light Prosper's notoriously old stove. Ironically, though she constantly complained about it, his old stove was a large part of why she was at his apartment at the moment. Christmas was approaching frighteningly quickly, and tomorrow Prosper and Blaire were going their separate ways to visit their respective families. This being their last night together for a while, Blaire had announced- or demanded- that they were going to do something "Christmasy."

  Due to a conversation gone wildly off-topic, the idea had evolved into roasting marshmallows over a fire. However, this turned out to be a problem, mainly because neither of them wanted to brave the 10 degree weather outside to make a bonfire, and neither had a fireplace in either of their apartments. They had gone through a number of ideas, from roasting the marshmallows over a candle to creating a miniature bonfire in a trash can, but eventually they had decided to use the flame from Prosper's old stove, which still had to be lit by a match.

  They had exchanged gifts earlier, which had been a memorable experience for both of them. Blaire would still giggle to herself every now and again at the memory of Prosper squealing like a girl when he opened his gift and found tickets to the upcoming Jet concert, and she was still fondling her gift from Prosper: a necklace with a slender chain and a silver silhouette of a fairy dangling from the end. She had a feeling he had blown a lot of the money he had earned over the summer working at the record store, but that made the gift all the sweeter. Thanking him for it had put quite a delay on their marshmallow-roasting plan.

  Prosper had done the chivalrous thing and volunteered himself to go outside and get two sticks to roast the marshmallows on (although he had made quite a show of putting on every scarf and coat he had in his apartment first), and now that Blaire had found the matches, she concluded that they were ready to start roasting.

  Prosper grinned when she told him this, and made one of his lame but vaguely amusing jokes about being born ready while putting three marshmallows on his roasting stick, and one on hers with a grin.

  "Waiiiit a minute," Prosper declared suddenly, "there's something missing." This having been said, he dragged a chair from the other room into the kitchen and set it in front of the cheerfully crackling stove top, sitting down on it and pulling her into his lap.

  "There." He murmured, his breath tickling her ear while he wound his arms around her waist so that he was able to roast his marshmallow on the fire, "Now it's perfect."

  The fire in front of them threw a rosy glow over their faces and Blaire's answering smile, making the whole scene seem ever brighter. Snuggling back into the warmth behind her, she concentrated on getting her own marshmallow perfect; if there was one thing she was determined to be better at then Prosper, it was marshmallow-roasting. Many a sticky marshmallow later, Prosper put down their sticks and merely sat there, with his arms draped loosely around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. Blaire's eyelids felt heavy, and Prosper humming Christmas carols to her was not helping her conviction to stay awake.

  "Mmm... Happy Christmas, Blaire." He said sleepily to her.

"Merry Christmas," She whispered back to him, grinning but leaving the discussion of how to properly wish someone a good Christmas for another time.