You did not care that it was Christmas, you refused to get out of bed. You had turned off your alarm and thrown your phone across the room, but it still kept ringing. It took Wilbur yelling at you through the walls for you to roll out of bed and grab your phone.

After you freshened himself up, you picked up the bag of presents you had wrapped (you asked Phil to do it for you but the man refused—apparently everyone in this household was bad at wrapping as well) and went downstairs.

You weren’t sure what disturbed you more, the sight of seeing Techno assaulting the glitter tinsel on the Christmas tree or that the man was wearing a Santa onesie. The safe choice was both. Ignoring all that, you entered the kitchen and Phil was in the middle of preparing the food for Christmas dinner.

“Merry Christmas, I was wondering when you’d bother getting up,” Phil greeted as he checked on the turkey in the oven.

“Is it really my fault that Wilbur made me stay up until midnight just so he could tell me that Santa wasn’t real the second it turned Christmas day?” You complained.

“He did that?” Phil choked on a laugh.