A/N: Here goes another Holiday inspired one-shot. I hope you all enjoy it! It's just a little bit of Christmas fluff! Review if you'd like!
Disclaimer: I don't own the song, Harry Potter, it's characters or the Jackson 5. I am receiving no money for writing this or profiting in any way.
"Angie!" George Weasley burst into their kitchen, startling his wife. Angelina jumped a foot, hastily snatching her chocolate-coated finger from her mouth like a naughty child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
"Yes?" she asked innocently. Dark brown eyes trained on his toffee colored ones.
"Have you been letting those two listen to the Jackson 5?" he jerked his head in the direction of the living room.
His wife delayed her answer by hefting a bowl of batter into her arms and stirring it. "I did." she remarked casually, adding chocolate chips to her concoction. George had given up on reminding her that it could be easier done with magic. Angie insisted she bake them herself. They were delicious either way, so he refrained from complaining.
"Ange," George groaned, raking a hand through his bright red hair. "What did I say about that?"
Angelina looked up at him through long lashes. "I know, dear. But after all, it was the Christmas album and it is Christmas time…" she bit her lip, throwing him a pleading look. "And you like the Jackson 5!" she added.
"I know, thanks to you," George acquiesced reluctantly. "You know, Ange, you're the only one who could get me to listen to American music."
"So what's the problem with the kids listening to it?" she nonchalantly dropped dollops of batter onto a cookie sheet.
"The problem isn't really with the album…" George's attention suddenly shifted to the plate of warm cookies of multiple flavors sitting on their counter.
"Then what is the issue?" Angie slapped his hand away from the plate.
"The issue is the song they are currently singing. It seems that it has gone to their head." His wife gave him a confused look. George grabbed her hand, dragging her away from her work. "Listen," he instructed with a finger to his lips. Angie pressed her ear to the door.
Twin voices, one high pitched, the other slightly lower, rang out through the door. George pushed it open a crack, revealing their son and daughter, ages 5 and 3, dancing in a circle in front of the Christmas tree. Clad in footsie pajamas and clutching a truck and a doll respectively, Fred and Roxanne were singing at the top of their lungs. Angelina bit back her laugh, instead settling on a wide smile.
"Ah," she said simply, retreating to the kitchen.
"Now do you understand?" her husband's serious demeanor was undermined by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "From the moment the squirts got up this morning they've been telling me nonstop about your infidelity."
Angelina gave her husband a sly look. "They're right you know." she took a bite of cookie.
"Is that so?" George played along, cornering his wife against the marble of the counter.
"It is. I've been meaning to break it to you for ages, Weasley. But like I said, it is Christmas. I wouldn't want to leave you heartbroken during the holidays."
"Not to mention, you'd be out of a job." his smile widened.
"Na-uh." she argued good-naturedly. "I keep that place running. Admit it. You need me George Weasley."
"Alright, you've got me there," George braced his arms on either side of her. "But apparently the same doesn't go for you."
"I am sorry," Angie feigned bashfulness. "But you should have known better than to have him round the shop. He came out of your office last night and I couldn't help it. He was so jolly and adorable in his fur cap and beard. And there was mistletoe…" Angie trailed off, dragging the tips of her fingers up and down his arms.
"There's mistletoe now…" George had taken time to conjure it when his wife was distracted with the kids.
"I don't know," Angie looked thoughtful. "It's not the same without the red jacket." her grin widened, dimpling her cheeks.
"I've still got the outfit. I can run upstairs and throw it on. Santa had such a great time last night entertaining the kids at the shop. I'm sure he'd love to entertain you." Angelina laughed as George tickled her sides.
"You'll wear the hat?" she asked.
George kissed her neck. "Uh-huh," he murmured.
"And the rosy cheeks?"
He nibbled her ear. "Of course."
"And you'll bring me a gift?" she teased.
"It's already wrapped and in the room waiting," he confirmed.
"Well if there are gifts…" Angelina leaned in, capturing her husband's face between her hands. George met her halfway, kissing her soundly on the lips. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the door opening and little feet pitter-pattering across the hardwood floor.
"Ew…" Fred grimaced from the other side of the kitchen. George pulled away and looked over at his and Angelina's children. Fred was making a face of utter disgust while Roxanne was giggling, a teddy bear caught in her small brown fist.
"Kissing your mother is not disgusting, Fred," George jokingly admonished. "If I never kissed her, you two might never have come about." Angie hit him lightly in the arm in response to their children's confused expressions.
"Alright you two, who want's to leave out cookies for Santa Claus?" with squeals of childish delight, Roxanne and Fred began clambering around, trying to decided what cookie Santa might like best.
"I've got an inkling he likes double chocolate chip," George remarked helpfully, drawing a smile from his wife. Roxanne glanced up at him through thick auburn curls, regarding him curiously.
"Do you know Santa, daddy?" she asked innocently.
"We're good mates," George confirmed, helping his son pour milk into a tall glass.
"Did you know mum kissed him in your shop?" Ever the trouble maker, Fred asked the question innocently, under the pretense of selecting the best cookie for the wreath-shaped saucer. George winked over his head at Angelina.
"It was just like the song, daddy!" Roxie swung around his pant leg. "There was mistletoe and everything. Freddy and I saw it!"
"I don't mind. Your mother was just thanking him for the gifts he'll be bringing around later tonight." George answered easily. Angelina bit back her laugh.
"You two had better head off to bed before he skips our house completely." Angelina corralled them up the stairs and into the room they shared. After a story, read by Angelina with sound effects supplied by George, the kids settled into visions of sugar plums. George quietly shut the bedroom door and turned to his wife.
"The kids have really got the lyrics down to that song. They'll have to sing it tomorrow for the family at Christmas dinner."
"It's one of my favorites," Angie agreed. "Especially the kissing part." she gave her husband a coy look.
"You know," George remarked as the couple made their way into their room. "I've got a few hours before I have to transfigure myself again. We could practice the kissing part." he grasped Angie by the waist.
"Sounds like a plan, Santa." She reached down and pulled on his red cap. "I'll be your little helper."
"My Mrs. Claus," he corrected. He leaned down and kissed her.
"Merry Christmas," Angelina whispered against his lips.
"Merry Christmas," George agreed, falling back on the bed and taking his wife with him.