Alright, here we go! Happy 1st day of Christmas! :D

This is a parody of The Most Wonderful Time of the Year, one of my favorite Christmas movies. It'll be six chapters long, and then I'll have a second six chapter story to finish the second half of 12DoC.

Also, please keep in mind that I've been obsessed with Cryaotic on YouTube lately, so I haven't been writing very often. If chapters seem to come late, I'm sorry. :/

And my writing has been a little bumpy lately only because I had taken off writing completely for almost two months, so it's hard to get back into the swing of things. I'm doing my best though, so thank you for sticking with me. xxx

Enjoy!

Jerome Clarke's blue eyes fluttered open and was greeted by the high, white ceiling of the airport. People buzzed around him as they struggled to get to their flights and find their luggage. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, trying to rid of any bedhead. He gathered his two bags and flung them over his shoulders, moving across the packed hallway to the scheduled flight list.

Beside him, stood an older man with blue eyes that darted over the schedule. His eyebrows furrowed and Jerome almost chuckled. He seemed extremely confused. He attempted to get an employee's attention when she walked by him, but she didn't show any signs of noticing him and continued walking. He grumbled under his breath and turned back to the list.

"Which flight are you looking for?" Jerome asked, unable to watch the poor man suffer his confusion any longer.

"Uh…" he barely gave him a second glance as he reached into his pocket and pulls out his ticket, reciting the flight number.

"Oh, that happens to be my flight as well. I've been waiting for that line over there to shorten a little. I kind of fell asleep. Jerome Clarke," he held out his hand and the man took it, shaking it firmly.

"Ronald Morris, but you can call me Ron." He said.

"Come with me. I have good news and bad news. Good news is: I have an idea on how to get us on that plane a little bit faster. Bad news: it's a little dishonest." Jerome shrugged.

"Keep talking." Ron ordered with a nodded and Jerome smiled.

"Alright, come on. Follow my lead and let me do all the talking." He instructed and walked over to the woman at the end of the line.

She was standing there with a frown, checking the passengers' tickets.

Jerome arched an eyebrow and sighed in annoyance. "Excuse me, miss, we have a bit of a problem here."

"Yeah, you and about a billion other people today." She snapped.

"Yeah, well, your baggage hand just ran over my uncle."

"So?"

"So? So, that's what we call negligence."

She gave him a once over and pursed her lips. "Nothing I can do for you."

"Hey, listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." he said, stopping her from walking away.

She turned to him again and raised a skeptical eyebrow, planting her hands on her wide hips.

"Now, it was all caught on tape, which of course will be subpoenaed. And I've got the names and numbers of twelve witnesses. Now, when they see the tape of that—"

"Okay, what's the easy way?" she cut him off.

"You take these tickets up there and check us in. A little upgrade would be nice." He smiled innocently.

"Alright, coming through," she called and unhooked the rope that led around the other passengers.

Jerome motioned for Ron to go first and followed him to the desk.

Mara Jaffray pressed the tip of the pen against the notebook paper, waiting for her son to tell her what to write.

"Dear, Santa, I am good. How are you? This year, I would like a Rocketwheel. Your friend, Tyler Jaffray." The seven year old said and she copied it down for him.

"Very professional," she commented, "What's this Rocketwheel?"

"Mum, it's only the coolest bike in the entire world! It makes cool noises and goes super-fast—"

"Okay, I get it. It's a big deal." Mara laughed, poking him with the end of her pen. "Is that all?"

"Well, Uncle Ron brings me everything else." Tyler shrugged.

"I guess that's true." Mara said. "You know, this year, we're going to have to be extra nice to Uncle Ron."

"You mean, because of Aunt Georgia?"

"Yes, because of Aunt Georgia. Holidays can be hard for someone who just lost someone they love."

"We'll make this the best Christmas ever, then." He vowed.

"Yes we will." She winked, moving to get off the bed, but she stopped, picking up a small notebook off his nightstand. "What's this?"

"Some boys at school told me that Santa Claus isn't real, so I wrote down a few questions."

"Which are?"

"How does he do it all in one night?"

Mara brushed her black hair over her shoulder. "Well, there are the time differences, so when it's Christmas here, it's not Christmas in other parts of the world, and that gives him an extra night."

Tyler raised a skeptical eyebrow and Mara rolled her eyes, laughing lightly.

"It's time for you to go to sleep, my little Einstein." She whispered and kissed his forehead. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, mum," he said softly as she turned off the light and left the room.

"I don't see why everyone's always complaining about flying, this is nice." Ron chuckled, looking around the plane.

Jerome smirked, picking up the First Class menu. "Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts. On the flight home, you'll be in the back with the peasants. So would you like something?" he asked, displaying the menu to Ron.

"Oh, no, thank y—"

"Ron, this is First Class; everything's free."

"Hi, can I get you anything? Something to drink?" The flight attendant smiled.

"Free?" Ron looked to Jerome for confirmation and the blond nodded slowly.

"Okay, I'll, um…" he took the menu from Jerome and looked it over quickly, "Here, I'll start with a beer, and move my way into the steak and eggs with champagne."

Jerome laughed. "I'll have the same, thank you."

"I could get used to this." Ron sighed.

"My mother's not coming to Christmas dinner, when I need her to make the turkey, and Paul's parents were expecting to meet her. Tyler's bike isn't available anywhere. I don't know how to make a turkey. I haven't decorated. I don't have the tree up. I don't have the lights on the house yet—Ronda is going to be all over me about that…" Mara rambled under her breath, looking over a patient's file.

"Making a turkey's easy." Her assistant said. "Well, no, the first few times, it was dry and another time it was kind of rubbery and—I'm not helping. Sorry."

"Okay, just drop everything you were doing today and see if you can find this bike online somewhere."

"Will do." Alisha nodded, leaving the room.

"And turkey recipes." she called after a second thought.

"On it!"

Mara sighed heavily, stroking her forehead stressfully. She picked up her phone when it began ringing, only to stop the noise but she answered calmly.

"Hey, Mara," Paul Richards greeted over the line.

"Paul, hi," she breathed with a smile. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"Oh, I'm…I'm okay. I'm glad you called. I needed to tell you that my mum won't be coming out for Christmas dinner."

"What? My parents were really looking forward to meeting her."

"I know. I'm sorry. They'll be meeting my Uncle Ron, though."

"Oh."

Mara stopped tapping her pen against her strong wooden desk and leaned back in her tall office chair. "What's that 'oh' supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, just…I met him only that one time, but he's…he's a little rough around the edges, Mara."

"Ron is the nicest guy in the world." She defended him.

"I'm sure he is." Paul conceded.

"…Hong Kong, New York, Sydney, Paris," Jerome listed, drifting off.

"What did you do in Paris?" Ron asked, sipping from his beer.

"Um, let's see…I taught English, bartended, waited on tables. Basically just did anything I could find and keep long enough to make money to buy food and pay for a place to sleep."

"I wouldn't want to write your resume."

"It's probably about forty pages long." Jerome chuckled. "What's in Liverpool?"

"My niece and her son," Ron replied, pulling his wallet out of his pocket so he could show him a picture of them.

"Wow, she's pretty."

"Yeah, she's a gem. More like a daughter than a niece. Her father died when she was really young and her mother, my sister: a lawyer, really busy, classy lady. Totally crazy."

Jerome laughed. "Single mother?"

"Yeah, she has this boyfriend now; I've only met him once. Really successful, really rich, and if you ask me, really boring. This guy wears £800 shoes."

Jerome looked at him sideways, dark eyebrows furrowing. "Really?"

"Trust me, I've been a cop for thirty-eight years, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's never trust a man that wears £800 shoes."

"You're a cop and you let me lie to get us into First Class?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm not a cop any more. Plus, it wasn't exactly a lie."

Jerome shook his head.

"What about you? Why are you heading for Wales?"

Jerome blew out a short breath, resting his head back on the seat. "Old girlfriend. I'm going to talk her into opening a restaurant with me."

"No offense," Ron said, "But I can't picture you to stand at the doors of restaurant, asking, 'Good evening, would you like a menu?'"

"Oh, no, I'm strictly behind the scenes. On top of everything else, I'm a chef."

"You can cook?"

Jerome nodded once, taking a swig of his beer.

"What do you know about turkey?"

Jerome arched an eyebrow and chuckled. "Ron, you have not had a turkey until I have cooked you a turkey."

"There he is!" Mara smiled brightly, hugging Ron tightly.

"Still taking those beauty pills." He winked and then turned his attention to Tyler. "Hey, it's Tyler, my favorite nephew!"

"I'm your only nephew, Uncle Ron." Tyler pointed out.

Ron turned when Jerome stepped up next to him. "No luck?"

"Nah, it's cancelled, and they don't know when the next flight will be."

"That's lousy."

The blond shrugged. "I don't mind spending another few nights in an airport. You meet the most interesting people. It was nice meeting you, Ron."

"Yeah, you too." He shook his hand firmly.

"Merry Christmas, guys." Jerome said before picking up his duffel bag and finding a place to sit.

"Who was that?"

"He…is a very good friend of mine." Ron replied.

"Really—"

"I need a favor—"

"I knew it." Mara sighed.

"Mars, he helped me find my flight when no one else would. He got me into First Class. He's a nice guy. I don't want him sleeping on this hard, cold, dirty floor, where he might get run over by baggage hands. I need him to stay at your house—"

"Uncle Ron," she protested, "He cannot stay in my house. He can get a hotel room if he wants a decent place to sleep."

"Come on, love, it's Christmas."

"He could be a psycho for all I know."

"I smelled him. He's fine. Really, Mars, I'm a cop. Do you really think I'd let a man sleep in your house if I wasn't first sure that he's clean?" he demanded, and when she still didn't relent, he added, "He knows how to cook."

"He can cook?" she asked doubtfully.

"You know what is specialty is? Turkey."

"Oh, we could always use a one of those!" Tyler grinned. "It's been a long time since we had a good turkey dinner."

"Hey, mister, that's enough from you." Mara smiled.

"Please, Mara, have a heart."

Mara sighed. "One night."

"Thank you. Thank you. You're an angel." He turned around and waved a hand at Jerome. "Hey, you're in!"

He smirked, grabbing for his bag and rushing to catch up with them.

"Jerome Clarke, this is my niece, Mara." Ron introduced them.

"Hi, nice to meet you," Mara said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

"It's a pleasure."

Review?

You guys are fantastic! xx

"We're rockin' around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop. Mistletoe hung where you can see, every couple tries to stop. Rockin' around the Christmas tree, let the Christmas spirit ring. Later, we'll have some pumpkin pie and we'll do some caroling." -Brenda Lee

-Rachel