sugar town .

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Christmas music fills the air of their Malibu home. Bing Crosby's smooth vocals control the sway of Shannon's hips as she dances about in tiny shorts, a tail of tinsel following as she heads towards the artificial tree she has only propped up today (a good two months before Christmas Day). She's hanging generic Christmas balls and putting the ones that hold memories away in a trash bag – though she knows full well that she'll be picking these out by morning. Christmas music, Christmas trees and candy cane patterned outfits are things that Sam would veto till December. Shannon's vindictive in her decorating. As she pulls garland over their faux fireplace, she imagines Sam throwing a fit about how Halloween comes before Christmas. She smiles thinking about his fists balled up as she tucks fairy lights throughout the house. White Christmas is playing so loudy that she hardly hears the rapping of the door. She perks her head towards the noise and yells that she's coming as her white and red striped legs prance towards the door. She's cheery as she unbolts the door, her lips singing along to Bing as she swings it open. The small brunette freezes for a moment and her long lashes bat as she stares at Sam's dark eyes. Not a minute later and she's slamming the door in his face, "sorry!!! We don't want any!" She picks up her phone and turns up the volume full blast. Her hands at a bag fake snow and she begins to pour it on various surfaces.

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The sea had been choppy this morning, Sam's coarse hands made coarser with the effort of holding onto his board as he swam against the current. He had gotten out early, too early, and on his own - any experienced surfer knows it's better to bring a buddy, particularly when the seas got choppy. But Sam was in one of his moods, a mood he had been since he got back from Australia. There the sea had been perfect, rising up in huge beautiful arcs, warm and salty and glinting away in the sunshine. Despite it not being much cooler here, the sea felt less hospitable, much as the whole city did at the moment. It took getting knocked off his board badly, his shoulder grazing against a rock he hadn't known lurked beneath, for the boy to get ahold of himself. If he kept going out like this, he'd drown. Standing under the icy beach shower, he rinsed himself off. Swapping out his wetsuit for black jeans and a white Rip N Dip t-shirt, he made up his mind to sort this once and for all. The drive to their place was short - after all, he had insisted on them renting it for its proximity to the waves - and he pulled up outside, heading to the door and giving it a hefty bang. There's the faint sound of music coming from inside and this annoys him. How could she be sitting around enjoying music without him? It sounds familiar, but it's not until she opens the door that he can hear it clearly: White Christmas. Really? He can't help but grin at the stupidity of it, his grin lingering on even as he gets only the briefest glimpse of his beloved. Knocking again, he leans on the door. "C'mon Shan, you can't leave me outside like this. Not at this time of year, don't you know Christmas is all about family?"

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Shannon sprinkles white snow on the tree and on the mantle, her glossy hair shimmering in the warmth of the Christmas lights. She's pretending to act annoyed, but she's actually overjoyed that Sam's come home against her will. Her movements are gleeful and springy. When Feliz Navidad comes through the speakers, she's wiggling about and excessively throwing snow all over the place. She'll have to hover it later, but this doesn't cross her mind as she continues making the mess. She hears Sam calling for her again and she decides to let him have a little by turning down the music slightly. "It's 86 degrees, you might want to put a hat on," she opens the window and chucks out a Santa cap. It's then the fire alarm goes off. Shrieking a shrill and hollow sound, blaring over Bing Crosby. "Oh shit! Shit, shit, fuck!" she cries, dropping the bag of snow and running into the smoky kitchen. Inside the oven are sugar cookies and when she opens it up they are black as coal. Shannon opens up the window, switches on a fan and knocks the fire alarm from the wall. Dismayed, she pouts at her black cookies. "Sammy!"

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Knocking on his own front door was a little surreal, though it wasn't like this was the first time he had ever been turfed out. Usually in a heated moment Shannon would dismiss him, often encouraging him to find the couch of whatever random girl he'd liked a picture of on Instagram, and he would again be confronted with the sight of his front door being slammed in his face. Other times he himself would do the storming out, though one thing remained constant: he left, she stayed. Why was that? Dismissing the thought, he knocked again, determined to gain entry to his own property. Soon the petite brunette emerges from a window, throwing down a Santa hat. Sam can't help but laugh, picking it up and pulling it on over his salty hair, great tufts of it sticking out under the white fur. It takes the sound of the fire alarm to sharpen his senses, and he remembers with a jolt that he has a key. Obviously he has a key! Fumbling for it, he manages to slide it in and unlock the door, following the smell of burnt embers to the kitchen. It's a sorry sight, Shannon pouting down at her blackened cookies. "Shh, shh, come here," he says soothingly, pulling her into him. He wraps his arm around her, rocking her gently. "Come on. What did you expect, S? You're the world's shittest chef. And that's coming from the runner up."

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Shannon was the queen of unpredictable grudge holding. Anyone else but Sam usually was exiled from her life if they wronged her, but anyone but Sam tended to have more leeway in terms of what offended her. Sam could leave the toilet seat up and she wouldn't talk to him for hours - or days, as she was so unpredictable with how long it took. This was her longest held grudge. Since June she hadn't seen Sam other than one Facetime that she hung up on and Instagram posts. The longer the silence towed on, the more nervous she became about forgiving and seeing him. The spring in her step was influenced by excitement to see him, but the reluctance to open the door was a nervousness and procrastination. Her big dark eyes look down at the crispy cookies, a manicured red finger pokes at her failure. When Sam comes in, she gives in and holds him back. Her arms lace tightly around his built torso and her face rolls to his chest. "I just wanted a nice Christmas, it's fucked now," she breathes him in, he smells salty like he's just gone to the beach. Shannon lifts her head to look up at him, the Santa hat on his head makes her smile, "it's wearing you." She's forcing herself not to pick a fight, as her mind tells her to get defensive. Instead she tucks her head back into his chest and huffs a bit dramatically, "this'll do your Christmas present."

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One of the key differences between Sam and Shannon was the intensity of their emotions. Sam flared up quickly, losing his temper entirely but managing to be over it within a minute. Shannon was more of a slow burner, a grudge-holder who could recall every misdeed he'd ever committed. It was generally a good combo, fiery at first but easily calmed, Sam often managing to worm his way back into her affections with ease. It was very odd for her to be this mad for this long, however, and even odder for him to have done nothing to counteract it, no begging, no turning up unannounced. At least, until now. He felt guilty for how long he had left it. His body eases into the embrace as she hugs him back, relief pouring over him like warm water. "It's not fucked, because - spoiler alert - it's not Christmas," he says, looking around at the mess she'd made. For him Christmas meant the height of summer in Sydney, scorching heat and barbecues on the beach. He remembered the one time he had made her come along to an Aussie Christmas, and how completely miserable she had been the whole time. He laughs softly as her face is buried in his chest, he can physically feel her making an effort and he appreciates the restraint. "Here," he says, guiding her chin so that she's looking up at him. He bends down to kiss her, her lips impossibly soft against his. "I've missed you. So, so much."

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The familiar scent of salt and sand make her feel more whole than she had the entire summer. A summer in which she kept denying to herself how much she missed her boyfriend/ex-boyfriend/whatever they were. A few months of making herself go out and party, where she'd inevitably end up pouting into a gin and tonic. Though within a minute of being wrapped up in his arms, the amount she missed him is obvious. Her arms cling around him like some sort of parasite, she feels sewn to him. She laughs a little and sighs into him, eyes lifting to survey the festive vomit. "No, not anymore. Bah, humbug!" she whines again, feeling slightly silly as Bing Crosby continues to croon in the background. Although born and raised in Orange County, Shannon's dream Christmas was a white one. Like Sam had forced her to go to Australia, Shannon had forced him to go to Colorado. A Christmas which she made him splash in hot tubs and shiver on ski hills... but in actuality, it had mostly been spent with both of them complaining about the cold and ordering from the hotel menu. She lifts herself up to meet his lips and settles to stare up at him with sad puppy eyes. Overcome with emotion she's not equipped to handle, Shannon suddenly feels like crying. The weight of her brow furrows and her lip trembles, she turns to bury herself back into him. "I missed you too, I'm really such a cunt," she cries into him, looking back up with teary eyes, "you look really hot in that hat."

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The smell of burnt cookies is finally easing, and now he can smell all those same old scents that he associated so strongly with coming home. Coconut conditioner. Pomegranate lip balm. Mason Margiela perfume. He breaths in deeply as she clings to him, trying to take her in all at once. It was so ridiculous that he had left it so long, what had he been playing at? Australia had been fun at first, surrounded by family and perfect surfing conditions and such good food. But none of that mattered much at all in comparison to this, to the apartment littered with photos of the two of them, to holding her in his arms and constantly being surprised by how teeny tiny she was. Never again would he take it for granted. A grin spreads across face as the song eases from White Christmas into It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas. Indeed it was. Not an especially romantic person, Sam was more prone to showing affection through teasing or making her a post coital cup of tea than by flowery words or sweet gestures. But he was high on the sight of her, affection coursing through his veins like a potent narcotic. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," he sang along, "everywhere you gooo..." Voice cracking, he grinned down at her, kissing her forehead. "Shh, you didn't do anything wrong," he said softly, resisting his urge to agree. "Really? That's a relief, since I'm wearing it all day." He reached over and pulled open the fridge, still holding her tight with his other arm as he peered inside. "We've gotta have some turkey slices in, right? That, some jelly, some fries... that's basically a Christmas dinner."

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This was so Shannon. To will Sam away and to tell him never to come home, but wanting him to show up uninvited and surprise her. He always showed up. Except this time. This time she waited and he never came home. Which made her sick to her stomach and think the worst. She'd thought he was finally fed up with her. Then the stripper happened and she thought he had run off with Cherry Lane or whatever her name was. She had cried so much during this break, she couldn't believe she was finding the tears now. He starts singing and it's bad, but she can't help but smile stupidly and join in for a verse. "Take a look in the five and ten, glistening once again... with candy canes and silver lanes aglow, " she shakes her leg, the bells on her ridiculous stocking chiming as she does so. He's trying to make it better and she loves him for it, her slim hand slips into his. "I was a real dick, Sammy," she sniffs, "I have two months to get myself on the nice list." She can't help but hug him again, her heels lifting from the floor as she perches to kiss him. "I have cookies dough too... and rum."

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It had taken the Pacific ocean and a fifteen hour flight to separate Sam from Shannon. If he had been more local, there were a thousand times he would have hopped in the car and driven home to reconcile things with her, but pride had stopped him from impulsively booking an early flight home. Pride, and his mother, who was determined to have the summer with him that she had been promised. Looking at her now, tears leaving streaks down her cheeks, he wished he had just disappointed his mum and hopped on a flight straight home. Then again, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and he had to admit this was a more poignant reunion than the ones that had come before it. Rather than another example of their bad habits, this felt intentional, like a cementing of their relationship. He laughs but manages to keep singing along, surprising himself with all the words he apparently knew. The bell is too much though and he cracks up, kissing her again. "You're such a fucking loser," he says, a much more traditionally Sam expression of affection. He lifts her off her feet as he kisses her again, hardly able to keep himself off her. "God, you're so beautiful, you know that? Really, you look more like Emma Watson every day."

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Shannon felt boring without Sam. Not in a bad way and not in a way which meant that she was defined by Sam. She was a less fun person without him and definitely a worse person. Binging of romantic comedies had confirmed in her head that the person that you're supposed to end up with is someone that makes you a better person and makes you want to be a better person. So when Shannon promises him that she'll be on the nice list, she is trying to be a better person. Or at least, this is the first move to be a better person. She laughs with him, her dimpled smile is wide and genuine. She can't remember the last time she smiled like that. "They're so cute, I feel like a little dog.. look at the tree," it is a ridiculous masterpiece. Not at all a designer tree, but rather looked like Christmas throw-up. Covered in tinsel, badly placed lights, chunks of glitter and snow, and the most random collection of ornaments. Her legs wrap around him as he lips her and she sits at his hips. Her hands cupping his face as she leans for a longer kiss. "But a sexy non-childstar version, right?" she kisses him again, her lips feverish for his. "You're the best person I know. The best looking and best everything. Never let me go, okay?"

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Shannon and Sam spent so much of their shared life online, and whilst they had occasionally suffered for it, he hadn't ever expected it to backfire as much as it had this summer. His Instagram was usually flooded with bikini-clad pictures of his girlfriend, or shots of her eating, or unflattering (as if there could ever be an unflattering picture of Shannon Faire) images of her sleeping... to suddenly go from all to nothing had not been something he could easily disguise, and the comment section of every image was flooded with concerned fans. He hadn't been able to look at Shannon's Instagram for fear of seeing her out enjoying life without him, but he imagined hers was a mirror image of his; 'where's Shannon?' "are you single?" 'why did you split you were my OTP!!', only she would have the uncomfortable addition of horny guys. It was sad but true that even in a moment as sincere as this, a little bit of him was eager to document it for the world. And yet he resisted. He looked at the tree as instructed, wincing at the horror of it. "Clearly your grief has driven you mad," he said, also taking in the smattering of fake snow that covered practically every surface. She wraps herself around him as he lifts her off her feet, her weight so light but satisfying, her body curling against his like they were made to fit together. He deepens the kiss, nipping at her lips as she pulls away, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips and back again, hungrily. "It's been way too long," he says, a half smirk on his face, "even in those stupid stockings I could still lose my mind with how much I want you." He walks over to the couch, falling back into it and keeping hold of her so that she's in his lap. Particles of "snow' rise up around them and he leans back, taking her in. "Oh, you're not going anywhere. Ever," he agreed, tugging on her shirt to pull her in for another kiss. "I'm glad you're compliant, I was ready to chain you up in the basement if I had to. This is a bit easier."

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Like Sam, Shannon's "fans" had been smart to point out the absence of Sam related posts these past few months.Every selfie posted, was accompanied by a barrage of comments. Some asking where Sam was, some asking if she was pregnant and that's why she was posting less, and then there were some guys offering their dicks to fill the gap in her life. It'd been hard to ignore Sam when there were constant pings to remind her that he wasn't there. She'd been addicted to his feed and had over analyzed every photo posted. It took all her strength not to harass him to ask who had taken that shirtless selfie. For someone who shared so much of her life on social media, she felt like she was cheating by smiling for the selfie. She's overwhelmed with affection as she kisses him. Her fingers run through his damp hair and the hat falls to the snowy floor. "What are you talking about? Stupid stockings? The label said sexy stockings," she grins, hugging her chest against his as she deepens a kiss. She steadies herself on his lap, propping her knees on either side of his lap in a straddle. She sits to admire his face, her fingers gently running over his cheekbones and the little scar on his forehead. "Love you forever, Sammy," she presses her lips to his and tucks her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the warmth of his back. "Silent Night, Holy Night wasn't really what I was thinking for a sexy playlist. But it works, right?"

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fuck 

This was so like any other morning they had had together. Sam out on the waves, trailing sand into the apartment when he returned, hair damp and textured with salt. Meanwhile Shannon would have had a lie in, or gotten up and set about doing something she preferred doing alone-- yoga, baking, calling her dad. Oftentimes she took this opportunity to do things he didn't like, like light incense or go through his iPad to see what porn he'd been watching. Today she'd done both, baking and decorating the house garishly, and in a weird way it felt like a response to his absence, and he was glad she hadn't just gone about her life as if he had never been there. The Christmas mania that descended upon the world from the 1st November was one of his least favourite things, and Shannon's devotion to the season was something that had come between them before. Her commitment to it seemed less like proof that she was living her best life without him, and more like bait. He grins into the kiss, his finger inching round the band of her stocking and giving it a ping. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed. Shannon was the ultimate example of a type he had gone for his whole life; petite, long dark hair, dark eyes, full lips and elfin features. His friends back in Australia often wondered about the legitimacy of a relationship so thoroughly documented on social media, but whenever they doubted him they couldn't ignore the fact that she was obviously, fully, completely Sam's type, and he was clearly wild about her. It made him feel sick to think he'd even laid eyes on another woman nevermind broken the touch barrier with one, an unbelievably stupid mistake when he had someone so perfect sat right here in his lap. "I love you," he said seriously, looking her in the eye, imploring her to understand how much he meant it. He laughs and shakes his head, now unable to ignore the music. "No, fuck no. Let's get some Queens of the Stone Age on and make up for lost time."

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Shannon looks back into his eyes as he tells her that she loves him, but breaks eye contact and smiles shyly when the pressure feels too much. Their relationship is one of pranks and sarcasm, not often are they so genuine around each other. It's not as though they're not soft on each other, Shannon is so full of love for Samson that she'd give up anything for him. She's fickle though, and so insecure about herself and their relationship that it can be hard to give so much love at one time. So it can be easier to get irritated with him and stomp her feet than to give into loving. "I missed you so much," she's still sniffly, her big lips pouting at him as her fingers scratch softly at his back. She smiles and laughs with him, agreeing that maybe the Christmas music is a little much for the mood. She leans back to grab her phone and change the song, resisting the cheesiness of Make it Wit Chu and putting the band on shuffle. Shannon leans forward to give him a peck on the lips, a hand lifting to cup his face and stroke the tufts of dark hair. "I don't know why I'm so nervous, I feel rusty... I have no game, Sammy."