Holiday Coda 63 - Cosmo Saville and John Galbraith

John was in bed, reading over what looked like police reports, when I materialized in the shadowy corner of our bedroom.

He glanced up absently, turned a page, did a doubletake.

I grinned, shook my hair back. “Hello.”

“I didn’t hear you come in.” John set the stack of papers aside, leaned back against the pillows, folding his arms behind his head and regarding me thoughtfully. “You’re home early. How was your solstice party?”

My grin grew wider still as I padded toward the bed. “Mah-vell-ous.”

Yes, yes, I’d had quite a bit to drink. Which Pyewacket, curled in the window seat, couldn’t resist commenting on.

“Meow!”

“Meow, yourself!” I retorted.

John’s expression remained grave, though there was an amused glint in his amber eyes. “What happened to your clothes? Or should I ask?”

I crawled onto the bed and did my sleekest, slinkiest impersonation of a panther on the prowl. It’s possible I even growled at him because John made a sound very like a tiger would make if tigers could chuckle.

“What happened to your clothes?” I replied cunningly.

John said gravely. “I took them off for bed.” 

“That is correct!” I cried, and pounced.

John’s arms closed around me, and somehow, he rolled over, blankets, sheets, and all, so that I was pinned beneath him, cushioned in a snowbank of pillows, blinking up into his bright, glittery eyes.

Last year, I'd spent last solstice with Andy playing drinking (and scrying) games in my old apartment. Twelve months later my entire world had changed.  

"There are leaves in your hair," John said.

"And mistletoe on my mind."

He made a sound of amusement. 

“What are you going to do now, my witch?” His voice was soft, his breath warm against my face, his lips inches from my own.

I purred, “Let me show you,” and twitched my nose at the lamp.