Page 23 of Unruly Kris

“That’s a good answer.” She tilted her head up and kissed him deeply, feeling his arms tighten around her as she pressed herself against him.

“I thought you’d like it.” He stroked his hands along her sides, running them under her tank top and along the edge of her leggings. “You better start the movie before we get distracted again, one more time and I’m going to call it for the night and carry you off to bed.”

Cath slid his lap and grabbed the remote then paused and gave Kris a sly smirk. “How do you feel about playing a little game to go along with the movie?”

‘The last time you gave me a look like that I wound up running around the woods barefoot, at night, with a paintball gun. And you wound up with no clothes on.” Kris cocked his head and smiled. She could tell from the look on his face, he was thinking about that night, the two of them cuddled together on a blanket on the beach, just them, a bonfire, and the night sky.

“Play your cards right and tonight may end just as good.” Cath slid off the couch and disappeared for a moment, running to the kitchen, and then returned to the living room with the bottle of rum that they had grabbed at the grocery store earlier in the day, along with two shot glasses.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” Kris watched as she tossed a couple of throw pillows down next to the coffee table and motioned for him to join her sitting on the cushions, backs against the couch and feet tucked under the table.

“A drinking game, both of us putting our money where our mouths are.” Cath took the cap off the bottle and poured two shots. “I haven’t done this in years but it’s how we used to do it when we watched this at the academy.”

She stopped to think for a moment, trying to recall memories she hadn’t thought of as years. “Basically, you drink every time something happens and whoever is still on their feet, proverbially speaking, wins. I used to have a list but that was eons ago.”

“That’s what the internet is for.” Kris googled the idea on his phone and quickly pulled up a list, reading aloud a list of roughly a dozen reasons to drink ranging from Clark Griswold’s meticulous Christmas plans being screwed up to his children’s litany of complaints, to anytime Cousin Eddie said or did something outrageous. The coup de grâce was taking a double shot when the squirrel appeared in the Christmas tree and when Aunt Effie’s cat met his electrically charged demise.

Cath jumped up and retrieved the decoration and at his motion, attached it to the corner of the flat screen.

“Perfect. Any time it looks like someone is wearing the hat, we take a sip out of our shot glasses.” He stopped and gave her a considering look. “You do realize that if we drink like this, we’ll probably wind up with no clothes on, doing very dirty things to each other.”

“God, I hope so.” She scooted close to him, running her fingers through his hair and felt him shiver slightly. Pressing a kiss to his neck as she picked up the remote. “If I remember correctly, that was most of the fun.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” Kris looped an arm around her shoulders. “You know what, it doesn’t matter, I’ll take it. Oh, first Santa hat!”

They both watched the screen when Chevy Chase appeared, standing at the right angle so it looked like he was wearing the hat. Cath picked up her shot and downed it, feeling the sweet burn of the rum down her throat. She watched as Kris did the same, squinting as the burn of the alcohol hit him, and coughing to clear his throat.

“Amateur.” Cath ribbed, sticking her tongue out at him. “There’s an uncomfortable laugh from Clark, drink.” She took a shot and refilled her glass before passing the bottle to Kris so he could refill his.

“Rusty is complaining.” He gestured to the screen as he raised his shot glass. “Take a shot, Lieutenant Colonel.”

She gave him a playful salute and in a moment of bravado, down the rest of her shot easily, tapping the empty glass on the table three times in a staccato rhythm, and then topped herself off again in one smooth, flawless gesture. “Mission objective achieved.”

“How are you doing that without gagging?” Kris made a face and took a shot out of his glass then winced. “I never thought I’d admit it, but I think I may be too old for this.”

“Two words: Grog. Ceremony.” She wrinkled her nose and gave a visible shudder. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had to take shots out of a punch bowl filled with mystery booze, ground coffee, cough syrup and hot sauce.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.” Kris’s look of revulsion made her laugh. “That’s disgusting.”

“That’stradition,” Cath gestured to the screen where Clark was having a panic attack over his Christmas bonus and they both took a shot. “Survival of the fittest. We work hard, we play harder. We have no choice; sometimes it comes down to what takes the stress off.”

Kris finally began to realize what he was up against when the squirrel appeared on screen and Cath down two shots quickly then waited with a sweet smile for him to catch up. He gave her a look of comedic horror and eyed the emptying liquor bottle on the coffee table. “Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?”

Cath leaned over and captured his lips with hers, reaching up and dragging her fingers through his hair as she drew him to her in a messy kiss. “I think it’s called the pro league.”

“I am in so much trouble, and I am going to enjoy every fucking minute of it.” He groaned against her lips then settled back contentedly as she fed him a shot from her glass.

“Damn straight sweetheart,” She grinned, feeling the mellow buzz of the rum starting to filter through her senses. “Now, bottoms up.”

Half a movie, and many, many shots later, a wobbly Cath made her way to the kitchen to see what else they had to do shots with and to grab them each a bottle of water. A Christmas morning hangover was a gift neither one of them wanted. Considering that the bottle of rum was at the bottom, it was a distinct possibility that their lazy day tomorrow would turn into a recovery day if they weren’t at least moderately proactive.

“I can’t believe you drank most of that bottle of rum!” Kris’s voice from the living room was aghast.

Cath pulled her head from the cabinet where she normally stashed her booze and looked back towards the living room. “I did not! You put a good dent in it as well.”

She returned to surveying the other liquor she had on hand, a bottle of gin, a bottle of vodka, a Twenty-year-old scotch she only took a shot out of every time she got a promotion, and the rest on offer was mainly beer. She took out the bottle of vodka and set it on the counter and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. She was on her way out of the kitchen when the red and green gingerbread boxes on the kitchen table caught her eye, and she stopped to stare at them. “Kris, come in here for a moment.”

He appeared in the doorway with a curious expression on his face, watching from the doorway as she opened the boxes and began to lay the various pieces of the kits out on her kitchen table. “What’s up? Are we abandoning them to the Christmas level of Dante’s Inferno?”

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