A Very Nellie Christmas

Author's Note:

When J.P. is roped into playing Santa at the office Christmas party, Nellie makes the nice list by agreeing to be his elf. Of course, with Nellie, the naughty list and the nice list are really one in the same.

This is a story for the 2020 Winter Holiday contest. Some readers may recognize the characters from the Nellie universe; however, like all the Nellie stories, this is a standalone story and no other stories need to be read to enjoy this one. That being said, fans of the series may want to know that this takes place after Nellie & The Bastard.

Whoa, oh, it's Christmas time, pretty baby

And the snow is fallin' on the ground

Well, you be a real good little baby

Santa Claus is back in town

Hang up your pretty stockings

Turn off the light

Santa Claus is comin' down your chimney tonight

—Santa Claus is Back in Town, Elvis Presley

"I'm breaking up with you."

I folded my arms and glared at J.P. as he burst out laughing.

"Again?" he said. "Jeez."

"I'm serious," I said. "It's over. I can't do this anymore."

"Babe, it's just—"

"Don't call me babe. I'm not your babe. We're breaking up."

"Right, of course," he said. "That's how many times this week, Nellie?"

"Stop patronizing me. I'm done. You're not my boyfriend anymore."

He sighed, hanging the ornament he was holding on the tree before turning towards me and stretching his arms out.

"Come here," he said.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're going to hug me and then talk some sense into me."

He dissolved into laughter again, shaking his head. "How do you say this shit with a straight face?"

"None of your business because we're breaking up."

I kept my arms folded tight across my chest as he stepped around the Rubbermaid tote on my living room floor, past the tangled lights and discarded garland and empty ornament boxes. Glaring, I stood as stiffly as I could while J.P. wrapped his arms around me and held me against his chest.

"Let's unpack this," he said. "Is this a 'I'm feeling uncertain about this whole being-in-a-relationship thing and need you to beg me not to leave you because I need to feel wanted' or 'I'm having second thoughts about this whole relationship thing and need you to talk some sense into me'?"

"Neither," I grumbled. "It's a 'we're breaking up and that's final' thing."

"Okay, so both," he said. "Let's start with logic. You're usually more open to the begging once you realize I'm right."

"Oh, fuck off," I said, trying to squirm out of his grip.

He held me a little tighter, his face nuzzling my cheek.

"Oops, that's the 'I accidentally pissed you off' response. Begging it is."

"You're such a bastard."

He kissed me on the cheek, his breath warm against my skin.

"Please don't break up with me," he whispered huskily, his voice deep and dramatic. "Let's talk about this, let's figure this out. You know I love you, baby, don't do this to me. You're my sunshine, my moonlight, the candy cane to my hot chocolate, the elf to my shelf, the snow to my flake, the—"

"Ugh, stop!" I groaned, trying to hide the smile he'd managed to put on my face. "You're disgusting. That's so cheesy."

"You love it." He kissed me on the cheek again, his lips slightly closer to the corner of my mouth. "Look, it's just a Christmas party. I have to go. I'm new at the firm. It's going to look bad if I don't at least show up and act like part of the team."

"You said you didn't want to go to stupid shit like this anymore," I said.

"I know, but sometimes I have to do shit I don't want to do, like schmoozing with the partners and their wives and everyone else. It's the dark and ugly side of being a lawyer they don't tell you about in law school."

"Your dad is a lawyer," I said flatly. "You knew damn well what—"

"Details, details," he said, swaying slightly as he held me. "Look, if you really don't want to go—"

"I don't," I said. "I have absolutely zero desire to go to this stupid party where I'm going to have to dress up and play nice with the other girlfriends and wives and talk about shoes and yachts and be careful of what I say so I don't embarrass you. I've had enough of doing that for the stupid parties my dad insisted I go to and you know that."

"I do know that, which is why I wouldn't ask you to watch what you say or act any differently than you usually do," he replied. "You know I'm not embarrassed of you, right?"

I opened my mouth to respond but couldn't quite think of what to say.

"There it is," J.P. murmured knowingly. His lips pressed to my cheek again, and his arms loosened so his hand could make gentle circles on my back. "Babe, I'm not asking you to come and pretend to be something you're not. This isn't one of your dad's parties. I'm asking you to come because this stupid-ass party would be a lot more fun with you there."

"Of course it would be," I said stubbornly. "I'm a fucking delight."

I felt him smile against my cheek. "Of course you are."

"It's just..." I sighed heavily. "Doesn't it just kind of feel too couple-y?"

"Couple-y?"

"You know." I shifted his arms. "Like, relationship-y."

"How awful," he said. "It's almost like we'd be a couple. In a relationship. You know, like how we are a couple in a relationship."

"We've been together for, like, a month," I said. "And anyway, we're not. I just broke up with you."

"I mean, technically, yes, but we've been together for a lot longer than a month. Just because you only officially agreed to date me last month doesn't mean the last six months don't count." A hand trailed up to the back of my neck, making me shiver. "Is this really what you're going to break up with me for? A Christmas party?"

"I'll be the youngest person there," I said. "I'm still a student."

"Nah. The first part of the party has the families there. They have, like, a play area and Santa will be there. A bunch of people will be bringing their kids."

"Oh good, so me and a bunch of five-year-olds at the kids' table?"

He snickered. "I think Louie's kids are in their teens. More importantly, a bunch of the legal assistants are around your age. Remember, I told you about Danica and how she—"

"Oh, that's a good point," I said without thinking. "I could finally see if Danica's hot."

"She is hot."

"Maybe she'd be into a threesome or something."

He caught me off-guard with a quick kiss. "Co-workers and threesomes are things I don't want to mix together."

"You're no fun," I pouted. "This is why we're breaking up."

"Can you remind me again how many times you've broken up with me since we started dating?"

"I'll break up with you as many times as I need to for it to stick."

"You'd miss me," he said.

"Right. I'd miss having all that time to myself and not having someone eating all my food and making fun of me all the time."

His hands moved to my hips, holding me firmly against his lower body. "You'd miss getting dicked down whenever you wanted and screaming my name over and over again."

"Nope," I said. "I could get laid whenever I wanted to before you. I still can. I could go out right now and find some guy to make me scream his name over and over and—"

He was laughing before I finished speaking.

"I know you could," he said. "But you won't."

"Why, 'cause you think I love you so much?"

"No, because I'm already here and you're lazy. Why go out prowling for some dick when you've got me right in front of you, ready to fuck you whenever and however you want?"

"Hmm. A compelling yet insulting argument. Interesting tactic. Let me know how that works out for you."

It didn't work too badly for him. He brought a hand to my cheek, tilting my face up so he could kiss me.

"Look, Nell, I want you to come to the party," he said. "If you don't want to, I'll respect that, but I really do want you to meet the people I work with. And I want them to meet you. And it's the night before you leave to go to your mom's. If you don't come, I won't get to see you before you go. So, we can kinda make it our Christmas, since we won't be together on the actual day."

I tried to cover the pang of sadness when he said that. We had agreed that it seemed too early to spend Christmas together, especially when our families weren't in the same city. Well, sort of. My dad lived next door to J.P.'s family, but I didn't spend most holidays with my dad. That year, I had missed Thanksgiving with my mom, so I was especially insistent on spending Christmas with her. I promised my dad I would visit for a few days before New Year's Eve, but it still meant that J.P. and I didn't get to spend the holiday together. He had offered to come with me to my mom's, but I'd said no.

I mean, we'd been together a month.

"We go to the party," he continued. "After, we'll come back to your place or whatever and do our own little celebration." He moved his hand, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip as his sparkling eyes met mine. "What do you think?"

I twisted my lips to the side. "Well..."

"There'll be an open bar," he whispered earnestly.

"Oh, God," I said, faking a moan. "Why didn't you say so? We could have avoided this whole discussion!"

"So that's a yes?" he asked.

I sighed. "Against my better judgment... yes."

He kissed me with bruising force, the corners of his lips curling up as he did.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I love you."

"You better," I said begrudgingly.

"Let me prove it to you."

We didn't manage to finish decorating the tree that night, but that was okay. It was decorated just enough to give me a great view as I lay under it with J.P.'s head nestled between my thighs, his tongue driving me crazy. And we had managed to find the tree skirt, so there was at least a little bit of padding when he directed me onto my hands and knees and proceeded to fuck the life out of me.

"What do you want for Christmas?" he asked as we lay on the floor, the tree skirt acting as a makeshift blanket while we caught our breaths. "And don't give me this bullshit about not wanting a present or just wanting to spend time together or—"

"Are you kidding?" I asked. "Fuck that. You better get me a kick-ass present."

He held me against his chest, which shook as he laughed. "So what do you want?"

"I don't know," I said. "And that's not me trying to be difficult. I need to think about it."

"Don't think too long." He traced a finger down my spine, making me shiver. "Otherwise I'll have to go with one of the default presents."

"What are the default presents?"

"You know. Like, candles or something."

"Ugh, no. I can't even light candles in my apartment."

"Hmm, good point." His finger traced back up my spine. "Jewellery?"

"You better fucking not," I said. "We've been together for a month."

"It's been a little longer than a month," he teased.

"Whatever. No jewellery. That's too couple-y."

He laughed again. "Fine. Makeup?"

"No."

"Socks?"

"Do you like having sex with me? Because that's how you lose the opportunity to have sex with me."

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll have to break out the big guns."

"What's that?"

"A signed photo of myself."

"I'm breaking up with you."

Most of the time, my breakup attempts ended with J.P. in my bed, usually with his head between my legs. In the month we'd been officially together, that had happened probably eight times, not counting the two times that evening. It was his way of reminding me why we were together, why I'd agreed to be his stupid girlfriend when I had never wanted to be anyone's girlfriend. As many times as I said I didn't want a relationship or feelings or any of that mushy bullshit, he'd managed to convince me that maybe, just maybe, I actually did. Of all the people in all the world, he was the only one I had ever wanted to be with like that.

It astounded me sometimes. It terrified me.

Falling in love with J.P. had been unexpected. Well, as unexpected as it could be considering I'd had a huge crush on him growing up. His sister, Anne-Marie, had been my childhood best friend and had known for longer than I had that I was going to end up with J.P. She was zealously supportive of our relationship and had been pushing us to date for ages, even before it became something I was willing to consider. For most of my life, I'd been too nervous to even look J.P. in the eyes, let alone consider dating him.

Then there had been that day, just after I turned eighteen, that everything changed.

I was in his bedroom. It was innocent enough; Anne-Marie's boyfriend had stopped by unexpectedly and I'd had to vacate to give them privacy. J.P., taking pity on me, let me wait in his room. As we awkwardly tried to ignore the sound of Anne-Marie fucking her boyfriend in the room next door, he'd started teasing me for being a virgin.

I'd vehemently denied it, and when he admitted he'd been asking because he wanted to know if it would be weird to hit on me, I told him I'd prove it. Of course, I was a huge fucking liar, which he realized when I sat on his dick and tried not to scream.

He was sweet about it; he didn't give me shit for lying to him, just held me and let me adjust, and then proceeded to fuck the life out of me. But that's all it was. I had a schoolgirl's crush on him; he'd taken my virginity; that was it. I went away to university, and he went on with his life.

Then, years later, I ran into him again. And I hooked up with him again.

And again.

And again.

I didn't want J.P. for a long time. I wanted to fuck him, but I didn't want him. In my mind, he was everything I couldn't stand. He was privileged, he was from money, he was part of the life that I hated... except he wasn't. He was funny and thoughtful. He was passionate and open-minded. He drove his parents crazy because he did things like refusing to work for his dad's renowned law firm, instead quitting to work with—as his dad called it—a "do-gooder" firm so he could make more of a difference.

He also drove them crazy by dating me.

I didn't understand it; I'd warned him time and time again that I wouldn't be a good girlfriend. He was only four years older than me, but I was still in university; it felt like a much larger age gap when he was wearing a suit and tie to work every day while I was still doing midterms. I hadn't had much experience with adult relationships, though, in fairness, his relationship experience wasn't much more extensive than mine. Both of us had been good at casual things, until he went and ruined it by falling in love with me.

Well, I guess it was a little bit my fault, since I also fell in love with him. But it meant that both of us were new to being in love, and being with one person, and being together.

It was probably that, more than anything, that made it work. We didn't do things the same way other people would; we did them the way we wanted to. Sometimes those things worked, and sometimes they didn't, and sometimes I got funny looks from my friends when I told them about something J.P. and I did or said, but it didn't matter.

If I was going to do the whole "feelings" thing, I was glad it was with him

**

I was in the middle of making dinner a few days later when the door to my apartment opened. I knew it was him; one, he had the spare key, and two, who else would it have been? I let myself smile, excited to see him, and glad he couldn't see how happy I was.

"Mooching dinner off me again?"

"Yeah," he said distractedly.

I'd never heard J.P. sound as uncertain as he did when he spoke that one little word. My shoulders stiffened and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

"What's wrong?" I asked, turning around.

It was obvious he'd come straight from work. He was still wearing his suit, though he had loosened his tie and his usually tidy hair was slightly messy. In his arms was a large box and he had a sullen look on his face.

A thousand things went through my head. He was being fired. He had to go back to Montreal to work for his dad. He was breaking up with me. My stomach curled at the thought.

"Well, here's the thing," he finally said. "You know how I told you the first rule of contracts is to always read your contract?"

A work thing. As relieved as I was that he wasn't breaking up with me, my heart sank.

"What happened?"

"I missed something in my contract," he said, shaking his head as he walked to my kitchen table and put the box down. "Something important."

I had never seen him look so nervous. I had never really seen him look nervous at all. My heart was racing and I stepped around the table, reaching for his arm.

"Did they fire you?" I asked softly.

"What?" J.P. asked, frowning. "God, no, they love me there. Why would you think that?"

"Um, maybe the gigantic box of whatever this is and the fact you're making it sound like you fucked up your contract or something?" I said.

"Oh," he said. "No. Yeah, no. I just agreed to something horrible."

"Are you making me worry on purpose?"

"No, I just... it's... I don't like it when I fuck up."

"Just fucking tell me," I groaned. "I'm not into the dramatics, J.P."

He sighed, shaking his head. "It's called the Christmas Clause."

"What?"

"The Christmas Clause," he repeated. "It's an office tradition that is apparently so important and so ingrained in the firm that it's literally in the new employment contracts."

I waited for him to continue. When he didn't, I rolled my eyes.

"And?" I asked impatiently.

He motioned at the box, shaking his head slowly. Frustrated, I stomped forward, grabbed it, and lifted the flaps.

The first thing I saw was the beard. The second thing was the hat. The third was the bulky red coat beneath the beard and the hat.

"No fucking way," I breathed.

"I know," he said miserably. "Apparently the newest employee has to do it and..."

He trailed off as a loud screech of laughter escaped my throat. I couldn't help it; I picked up the beard and absolutely lost my mind.

"You have to be Santa!" I squealed. "Oh my God, this is fucking fantastic!"

I caught a glimpse of his face as I howled, gripping one of the chairs to steady myself since I kept keeling over. He looked torn between amusement and offense, staring at me as I giggled helplessly at the thought of tall, perfectly-put-together J.P. dressing up as Santa for the office Christmas party.

And then it dawned on me.

"Oh my God," I said. "Do you have to hand out presents? Like, to the kids?"

"Uh... yeah," he said.

The chair was no help; I ended up on the kitchen floor, tears streaming down my face and unable to breathe.

"Glad you find this amusing," he said when I managed to calm down enough to hear him.

"Oh, absolutely," I said. "This is fucking great." I thought for a moment, then frowned. "Wait, if you have to be Santa, why didn't they call it the Santa Cla—"

"Some shitty movie probably trademarked it or something," he said. "We are lawyers, you know. Don't want to mess with trademarks."

"Whatever," I said, finally catching my breath. J.P. chuckled, offering his hand to help me up. "I'm so excited. I'm going to take so many pictures."

"I don't know if you'll have time to take pictures," he said.

"What?" I said.

"Yeah," he said. "There's another part to the clause. So laugh all you want now, because..."

I stared as he turned back to the box, lifting the huge red coat and pants out and putting them on the table.

"No," I gasped as he lifted another item out of the box. "Is that—"

"It's Bring Your Own Elf," he said, holding up the green and red elf costume. "Louie's wife used to do it but apparently there was some drama and now—"

I didn't hear the rest of what he said. Instead, I hooted with laughter again and snatched the costume out of his hands.