Mistletoe

She never did thank Jake for her Christmas present.

Having her father for the holidays for the first time in years was by far the most precious gift she's ever received. Having him there, smelling his cologne, hearing the soft rumble of his laughter is enough to have her crying in joy. He's here, actually here, and all she had to thank was Jake. Jake, always willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Always willing to go above and beyond because he wanted to make her happy.

He truly is a good friend.

She drops by his home the next morning. The Longs were busy basking in the afterglow of a good Christmas, still groggy and the home a mess with ripped wrapping paper, discarded present boxes, cheesy Christmas movies and glasses of partially drunk egg nog. Mrs. Long, tired and none too chipper, invited Trixie in wordlessly and lead her upstairs to Jake's room.

She knocks softly, and Jake opens the door. She gasps at his attire: pajama bottoms, bunny slippers, and nothing else. His newfound muscles are slowly showing through tanned flesh; that six pack will forever stick in Trixie's mind whether she wants it to or not. Jake grumbles out a greeting, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"What brings you here?"

"I wanted to say thank you. I never got a chance to say I appreciated you getting my dad home for Christmas."

"Don' mention it," he replies. He stretches his arms and yawns.

"You knew how much having my father there meant and you made it happen. I feel I owe you something."

"How about a few more hours of sleep? You came in so early in the morning..."

"It's 12:30 in the afternoon."

"Too early." Jake responds. Trixie purses her lips and an idea pops into her head.

"How about I make you an after Christmas breakfast? I know how much youlove my French Toast." She tugs on his arm.

"Come on, Jake. Let's get downstairs and I'll wake you up with a hot plate."

"Trix,"

"I'll even make those Huevos Rancheros just how you like."

"Trix..."

"With a nice side of sausage and bacon, and a tall glass of orange juice, you'll be thanking me in no time for my treat."

"Trixie..." Jake groans out exasperated.

"Look up."

Her dark brown eyes flicker up and a reddish tint dots her cheek.

There, hanging on the ceiling, is the red and green poisonetta known as mistletoe. And they both were standing under it.

"Oh," Trixie says, looking down at the carpet.

"Trixie..."

She turns around and her lips clash into Jake's. It was a soft, chaste, peck on the lips. Trixie pulls away, stunned and stupefied. Jake only smirks, his eyes twinkling in mischief.

"That was payment enough." He answers.