"Okay, seriously this time. Seriously." Steve was eyeing the governor doggedly from the kitchen, where he'd taken up a lean against the counter and sipped experimentally at the fresh hot chocolate that was supposed to be hers. "I love your sometimes fancy tastes, you know I do, but we're gonna have to dumb down some of your food choices for the party. Or man them up. Just sayin'. Maybe we could get some Taco Bell party platters and some Doritos. Think about it. You know, food for thought..."

The day had long since wound down and come to an end, the night hours dragging on close to midnight and blanketing the Eye with a peaceful quiet. The machinist had just recently changed into a clean white wifebeater and the fleece Grinch pajama pants Fionna had bought him after discovering how much he claimed to hate Christmas.

He'd been quirky and especially mercurial for weeks, since the Sunderton incident, so it could have come as a breath of fresh air that the man was so willing to argue over something so...ridiculous.

"I should show you the catering list from last year. I am ?dumbing? this down." She had a contrasting pair of Seuss flannel bottoms on - Cindy Lou Who in red - and a thermal Henley. Her hair was loose. Raza was in bed. It had all the promise of a cozy night. Except he was drinking her cocoa and talking about appetizers.

She rolled her eyes at him and got another mug out of the cabinet.

"I have no idea what a taco bell is for or when you ring it. But we can take a look at what else the caterer can make, if you want some things added to the menu."

"...you've never heard of Taco Bell?" He gawked. Literally gawked. In truth, she'd probably hate the stuff, but when it was late at night, you were drunk, and nothing was open... The Bell was King. "It's like...the McDonald's of Mexican food. But more awesome." It took a moment (or three) for him to recall who the steaming mug was for and soon Steve was sidling up to her, leaning in to steal a kiss. He didn?t give it back. "Wings would be awesome. And maybe something wrapped in bacon. Like bacon-wrapped bacon..."

She handed him the fresh mug after giving up that kiss. "McDonalds? Not familiar." Was she kidding? But she looked serious and he'd been to her world. So she wasn?t joking. "Bacon wrapped... bacon,? she echoed dubiously.

"Your hips will hate me if you let me take you on a fast food tour..." The corners of his mouth curled upwards in a grin. The empty mug was set aside, a sip stolen from hers along with another kiss from her lips, before he combed weathered fingers lightly through her hair. "It's horrible, horrible, delicious junk food.?

"You're horrible, horrible, delicious junk food. My hips don't seem to mind it," she indulged in a little droll murmur there, as she leaned into the counter and traced her fingers up along his ribs.

"Someone's lobbyin' to get her hair brushed. I can tell." Comfortable against the counter, he dropped a hand to her waist and rubbed affectionately. Hawkish blue eyes studied her face, small slivers of adoration bleeding through the wry amusement. "And you have amazing hips. Perfect for holding onto."

"I don't deny that I am always available for a little grooming. But I promise you, I had no ulterior motives," grinning and leaning toward her mug to at least share it between them.

"Uh-huh," he said, skeptical. "All politicians say that." He took a drink before lifting the mug to her lips.

After the sip, she dove in for the real question. "Will you help me get a tree tomorrow morning? Rekah?s coming for dinner tomorrow night and we?re going to decorate.?

Steve grimaced, groaning. "Yeah. I can do that. We can load it into my truck." God, he hated Christmas.

"It should be fun this year. Raza's getting old enough to understand Santa and presents." It was a small holly-sprig of incentive that she was fairly certain would work. He could bluster all he liked, but Raza had the man wrapped around his pinky.

"Low blow, Fi. Low blow." The grimace became a scowl, but there wasn't much heat in it. If anything, the machinist's blue eyes danced with a deeper amusement. "But fiiiine. I'll pretend it's not a stupid holiday..."

"Good," her eyes twinkled, but there was an element of relief there, too. ?You know he grumps along anytime you do. I want him to like Yule. I might have to show you just how much I appreciate that soon."

"Soon, like in... fifteen minutes from now when I'm done brushing your hair?" His blonde brows bobbed playfully before he was sipping from the mug again. "I mean, it wouldn't take much to just turn around, drop to your knees and..." He wagged his brows.

"You really think you'll be done brushing my hair in fifteen minutes? You're optimistic. That's sweet."

Chuckling, he leaned his face in close to hers, his breath warm against her jaw. "Your Miss Ladyship, I'll brush your hair for as long as you like. You're worth it."

"You'll put me to sleep and then you'll question that commitment," smiling before she scraped her teeth along his chin and broke away from him to start down the hall. "But I like the way it sounds."

"Sleep all you want," he laughed. "I'll just roll you onto your belly and have my way with you anyway." He flipped off the light to follow her, bringing the cocoa along. ?But seriously. At least get some damned nacho cheese and chips. And beer. I got an image to maintain.?

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(Written in collaboration with the bacon-wrapped talents of Steve Armstrong's player.)