A Case Files Xmas Story by Honor Raconteur

Clint, having lived with Jamie now for a few years and seen many Christmas movies, knew festivities happened around a gloriously decorated tree. On the screen, it had looked mildly intriguing, but he knew the reality of it. The fresh scent of pine, the closeness of the branches perfect for stealth or naps, all of it within eyesight of his favorite people.

Christmas trees, in his opinion, should be a year-round thing.

Now, in years prior to this, Jamie had asked Henri to set up a ward around the tree to keep Clint from climbing up into it. Which was rude. This year, she claimed everyone should be old enough to stay out of the tree, and hadn’t bothered to put a ward up.

Clint viewed this as a wonderful opportunity.

He sat on the windowsill with Tasha and Phil, and kept a careful eye on the street below, all while speaking with them. “Now, while they’re out, I’m getting in that tree.”

Phil yawned and settled down to sit in loaf form. “Your funeral.”

“It’s not like I want to destroy it, I just want to sit in it!”

Tasha nodded in support, her eyes big and round as she stared longingly at the tree. “Right. Sit.”

“Phil, are you really not going to join us?”

Phil flicked his tail and yawned. “No.”

Alright, well, up to him. Clint didn’t know how long Jamie would be out. She’d said she wanted to get dinner and groceries, which could be an hour or multiple hours depending on her mood. He’d take advantage while he could. His last instruction to Phil before hopping down to the floor was, “If you see her or Henri, call out gravy.”

“Got it.”

At least he was willing to be a lookout.

Clint wasted no time in getting in there, Tasha right on his heels. The second he found a nice, supportive branch, he splayed out and settled. Bliss. It was perfect up in here. Even warm with all the lights going! How could Jamie deprive him of this perfection? For multiple years in a row? It was a travesty.

Maybe, if he was really stealthy, he could sleep up in the tree every night until she eventually took it down. That wouldn’t be hard to manage, right?

From the window Phil drawled, “Gravy. Or was it good gravy?”

“What?!” Clint turned more alert.

“No, no, take it back. We’re fine. Wait, was it bad gravy?”

“There is no bad gravy,” Tasha opined from somewhere above him. She’d clearly nestled towards the top of the tree.

Clint was inclined to agree but, “Old gravy?”

“Only mature gravy.”

“Aged gravy?”

Phil made a noise of dissent. “Isn’t that the same thing? So there is no bad gravy?”

“Uh, no?” Clint wasn’t sure to be honest.

“We can’t add that on?” Tasha shifted a little, making an ornament bounce.

“Why would we?” Clint countered.

“I dunno, you’re the gravy man.”

“All I said was gravy was the code word for Jamie coming, why you making that complicated?”

“Gravy,” Phil said again from the window.

“See?” Clint wiggled his whiskers, aggravated. “It’s that simple.”

“No,” Phil reiterated, “I mean gravy.”

“I heard you the first time. It can be simple gravy, it doesn’t need to be bad gravy, or aged gravy, or whatever—”

Phil let out a long sigh. “At least recognize your own code word. Jamie’s entered the building.”

There was a moment. It was panicked.

Clint tried to quickly shimmy down the tree, without dislodging anything in the process, and was almost to the ground when he realized that the tree was tilting at the wrong angle and things were leaning, and Tasha wasn’t down yet—

The door opened with Jamie’s distinctive footsteps and for a second, he thought he had time, because she was holding paper bags and was occupied putting them down. Three seconds was all he needed to get free and away. No body, no crime, right?

Then Tasha let out a yelp of panic and the tree went even more sideways, dumping Clint unceremoniously to the floor and half on top of a wrapped present.

“Crap!” Jamie raced to them, caught the tree before it could completely topple, then swore again when Tasha tumbled out of the tree. “Guys! This is why I said to stay out of the tree!”

Clint skedaddled, going for the safety of the wing backed chair and on top of it. It was only then he realized Tasha hadn’t followed for good reason—her back leg was tangled up in the decorative ribbon winding around the tree and she was well and truly stuck.

Jamie fussed even as she scooped Tasha up in one arm, stabilizing her while she got the tree pushed back upright. “Thirty minutes. I was gone thirty minutes! What am I supposed to do with you idiots?”

“But Jamie,” Clint protested, “tree?”

“Tree that irresistible, huh. Even to adult you?”

He gave her Sad Face, blink and everything.

Jamie finally freed Tasha, and put her up on one shoulder, and then looked around the apartment. “What if I give you your own tree, something more stable and mounted?”

“Will it have pretty lights?”

Jamie’s head fell back as she groaned. “Why am I agreeing to this. You spoiled brats. Yes, it will have pretty lights on it. Just leave this tree alone. Deal?”

“Deal!” Score!

Being cute sure had its advantages.