so here's part 1 of the promised sequel to "A Very Scooby Thanksgiving." This will be a little longer, but equally cute (I hope) and mostly angst-free.
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A Scooby Solstice Carol
Part 1
By JewWitch18
Rating: PG-13 for smoochies
Summary: A continuation of “A Very Scooby Thanksgiving.” A Very Merry Solstice for the whole gang, light and fluffy style!
Leaning into the doorway of her daughter’s bedroom, Tara gazed for what seemed like hours at her two beloved redheads, both deeply asleep, with a storybook still open between them. Sighing, Tara wished she could simply crawl under the covers and join them, and to hell with packing, tomorrow, and the rest of the world. She watched the identical expressions on their sleeping faces, lips slightly parted, red hair splayed together over the pillow. They were angels, both of them, and they were hers. Tara sighed again, crossing the room to kneel next to Willow, one hand reaching out automatically to run through her soft auburn locks. She found herself making another fanciful wish, that she were bigger and stronger, and could simply carry her beloved to bed rather than having to wake her. Oh Well. Willow liked her just the size she was. She leaned forward and pressed a whisper soft kiss on the familiarly tempting lips in front of her.
“Uhmm,” Willow mumbled, green eyes blinking slowly. Tara could practically see the wheels turning as Willow’s brain processed the sudden rush of information that waking provided. “I feel asleep reading to Ari?” She asked groggily.
“Mm-Hmm,” Tara agreed, gently removing The Story of Wuggie Norple from Willow’s chest and setting it on the dark purple bedside table, recently decorated with cheerful jellyfish after a field trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Willow had already come across a surprising number of jellyfish-related presents for her daughter at the last minute, most of them off eBay.
“And what are you doing, Missy?” Willow’s voice was still husky from sleep.
“Just looking at the three most beautiful girls in the world,” Tara whispered, her mouth against Willow’s ear, and her hand resting lightly on her lover’s still flat stomach. Willow turned her head, taking the loving attention away from her ear, in favor of tasting her wife’s lips with her own.
“Can’t be,” Willow whispered, grinning into Tara’s mouth. “There aren’t any mirrors in here.” Tara giggled and they shared a few more kisses, until a small sleepy sigh reminded them that they were still in their daughter’s bedroom.
“C’mon, baby,” Tara smiled, gently helping Willow unwind from the small limbs splayed across her body. “You can get that list of yours and order me around the bedroom, and make lots of perfect little check marks. We still have a lot to do before we leave tomorrow.”
Several hours later, Willow awoke, in a state of distinctly unpleasant Tara-lessness. Confused and slightly concerned, she sat up and reached for her robe, rubbing the sleep from her blurry eyes as she abandoned the enticing softness of her bed. Following the dim hallway light, she wound her way down the stairs.
Tara was sitting in the kitchen, eating frozen orange juice concentrate directly from the container.
“Honey?” Willow blinked, her voice registering disoriented bewilderment. She didn’t even know they had frozen orange juice; Tara was usually so emphatic about the evils of preservatives, and all things un-organic. But there she was, eating frozen orange goo at 4:27 am.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, it was more the lack of you that woke me. I don’t sleep well without my Tara-bear. But, baby…what are you doing? I mean, I know what you’re doing, cuz, hello, you, kitchen table, frozen orange juice…but, um…why at four-thirty in the morning do you need frozen OJ?”
Tara grinned sheepishly before sucking on another spoonful.
“Don’t ask me, Will…ask your daughter.”
“Oooh!” Willow’s eyes flashed delightedly. “Is this our first craving? The baby wants frozen orange juice? …Oh, is that healthy, honey? I mean, it doesn’t have too many additives, does it?”
“You’re one to talk, miss pickles-and-yogurt,” Tara teased, pulling Willow into her lap and giving her a sticky orange-flavored kiss.
“It was plain yogurt,” Willow grumbled, feeling her cheeks flush. “And half-sour pickles are practically the wacky identical cousin of cucumbers. Like the Patty Duke show, only without the fake English accent. And together, it’s just like that Indian side dish you get with curry. It’s not like we’re talking about strawberry yogurt and kosher dills here—“ Willow’s ramble was cut short by another sweet and sticky kiss.
“I know, baby,” Tara soothed, grinning despite herself.
“And anyway, it didn’t do Ariela any harm, did it? I don’t see how my magic cravings could have affected her, anyway; it was just a fun, magical side-effect of getting you pregnant.” Willow’s grin was far less innocent than Tara’s, in the moment or two it got to live before it morphed into a saucy leer. “Now that was fun.”
“For me, too,” Tara murmured, rubbing Willow’s belly reverently. “And ditto what you said—I don’t think what I eat will have much effect on this little one, anyway. You, on the other hand—“ Tara’s voice took on its firmest wifely tone—“are not getting any wassail this year.”
“But, Tara,” Willow whined, nuzzling into her lover’s warm neck, where she could feel the pout against her skin. “We always have wassail on Solstice. It’s special, and Solstice, and, and, it’s special!”
“Ginger tea is just as appropriate, and much healthier for both of you,” Tara said firmly, even as she bent her head back to let Willow play with her neck more easily.
“No fair,” Willow breathed against Tara’s neck. Then she began to nibble. “If I have to have stupid ginger tea, then you’re gonna have it too, okay?”
“Oh…yessss, Willow…” Tara groaned and closed her eyes, and Willow smiled triumphantly.
“So…you wanna go back to bed?”
WILLOW: Why is it always the end of the world? Couldn't it be the end of cheese or something?
--Tempus Fugit(S7) by Lipkandy
"They don't have legs...creepy eyes...and who the hell knows how they breathe. Doesn't make sense." --my girl defending her fish-fear
This is great, loving it lots. 
and I probably got the quote wrong too, but it's the thought that counts right?