You had bugged John for weeks, even months. It was Christmas season, the team always did what the other wanted for the little get-together John organized each year, but you never got to chose.

Yet, after beggign him, swearing you would do all the cleaning chores for three months, John had cracked. He had say yes with such an exasperated sigh you weren't sure he would really do it.

But a week later, when he had waved those tickets for the Nutcracker, you were happy, relieved, because that's all you wanted : for the team to go see your favorite dance show, just so you could share what you liked with them.

The show was great, perfect even. The costumes were lovely and the dancers were amazing, and even Ghost came out of the Opera with what could be deemed a smile. Everyone said it : they had to do something like this next year too.

You went to bed with stars filling your eyes, humming the musics from the show, a smile stretching your lips. What a beautiful story the show was displaying.

But as your eyes opened later that night, you weren't greeted with the usual washed out white of your ceiling. A dark sky was pouring snow all over you, the space around you covered in white. You sat up, an old street lamp casting some warm light over you.

Hearing stepscoming from behind you, you turned around, just to be greeted by some familiar blue eyes and a well-trimmed beard. And here was standing John, dressed like a Nutcracker, sword at his belt.

You must have been dreaming, it wasn't possible otherwise.

John knelt in front of you, taking your hand and pressing a kiss on the back of it.

You were sure now, you were really dreaming. You were dreaming of being in the Nutcracker story, and John was the Nutcracker.