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Beckett opens the door to reveal a slightly shivering Oren, with snow in his hair, ice crusted to his boots, and a reddened nose.

"Uh, hey?" Oren smiles, sheepish, too cold to feel his face. "Can I come in?" 

Nodding, running his hand over his hair, Beckett swings the door further open, stepping back. "What are you doing here?"

Oren huffs a sigh, slugging a slightly soggy knapsack onto the floor. "Long story, Beck. Basically, I was supposed to be heading home for the holidays, had some weird home trouble, stayed here. No biggie." He smiles, but his eyes are tired, shadowy. Obviously, it's a biggie.

Beckett smiles back, worried. "Why aren't you at home?"

Sighing, Oren begins toeing off his boots. "Well, my mom actually went to San Diego or something with her boyfriend, Manny," here, Oren makes a face, "and my dad doesn't really want to see me. So, I'm heading back to my room, right? And then I get this text from Lyle, and he's all 'Oh, by the way, I took the keys with me for security. I'll be back on the 26th!' So I'm sort of without a place to stay for Christmas?"

"Stay. I'll make tea." Beckett pushes Oren's hair back from his forehead, pecks the temple, and heads to the kitchen without another word. Oren flushes in the empty room, bites his lip.

"Hey, Beck?" A hum responds. "Why aren't you home for Christmas?"

Quiet. Then, under the clattering of mugs and creaking cabinet doors, Beckett says, "My mom doesn't wanna see me this year, and I don't wanna see my dad."

Oren, feeling as though he's edging towards a dangerous line, not to be crossed, shuffles into the kitchen doorframe. "Can I borrow some of your clothes? My ankles are all wet."

"Yeah, you know where they are." Plopping two tea bags into empty mugs while the kettle on the stove hisses, Beckett leans on the counter. Oren stares at him for a moment too long, at his forearms crossed over his chest, at the muscles there.

"Do you, like, work out, or something? You must." Oren's feet carry him further into the room, even as he thinks that this is a dumb idea. Fingertips trace the veins on Beckett's arms, and Beckett shudders, looks away.

After clearing his throat, Beckett says, "Yeah, most days of the week." He pretends that he isn't nervous to have Oren so close, and Oren pretends that his heart isn't racing at the feel of Beckett's skin under his fingers.

Oren nods, for a moment seeming uncharacteristically lost for words. Then, in a rush, "Hey, so, I was kind of wondering if you wanted to spend Christmas together, like we could have breakfast and give each other gifts, and have Christmas Eve sex? Or, like, not that, but I think that would maybe be cool? If you were into it?" Oren is ready to cringe himself into nonexistence; the whole thing had been much smoother in his head. Instead, he watches Beckett hum, watches his Adam's apple work in a mostly expressionless face. "You have, like, RBF, but all the time, know that?"

This gets a smile, a huff of a laugh. "Rude." Beckett flicks Oren's forehead, no intent of harm, and brushes his knuckles over the shorter man's jaw. "Dunno about Christmas Eve sex, per say, but I say yes to the rest."

"Oh, good." Then, sly, he adds, "Have you already gotten me a present?"

"Of course. Did you get me one?"

Oren flushes, nods. It's a nice candle, one that he hopes Beckett won't hate, and a somewhat pricey sweater. "Obviously. I think you'll like it."

Beckett smirks to himself, keeping his voice light. "We'll see about that."


Oren giggles, glancing at the clock. "C'mon, it's already 9, we have to do Christmas Eve presents. We each get one," he leans closer, dropping to a whisper, "and this is where you tell me that you have a 'package' I can open, if you wanna go that route."

Beckett snorts, before getting back into character. "Of course. Well, seeing as I've only got one actual present for you..." Oren jumps when Beckett's hand settles on his thigh, and a beat of unsure eye contact passes. Beckett's still holding it when he says, "We can open some other things instead?"

Oren is furious at himself for blushing at a line he'd just spoon-fed the other man, but he can't help it. Beckett never does puppy-dog eyes, and, apparently, he does them very well. "Yeah. That sounds good to me, if you want to?" Beckett pulls Oren to his feet, slowly. The amount of eye contact might be a little worrying if it weren't for the heat behind Beckett's gaze, the way that he pulls Oren towards the bedroom door.

"So, uh, what kind of unwrapping were you thinking?"

A startled laugh, coupled with a smirk, and Beckett is shaken from his previous serious mood. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, some people like to save the paper, and some people like to just rip the thing open, and some people like to wait as long as possible to see what's under the paper, so it's kinda weird, and—"

Beckett places a finger to Oren's lips. "We can start with taking off the bows, and play it by ear from there, yeah?"

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, alright." Oren presses a quick kiss to Beckett's lips, and, with that, the two stumble through the bedroom door. Beckett kicks it shut behind them, pressing Oren's spine against it.

"Merry Christmas," Beckett murmurs, lips breaths away from Oren's, and his grin is shockingly boyish in the darkness, white teeth catching light from the window.

Oren pulls the man back to himself, for once preferring not to talk. Beckett understands perfectly.


Happy Holidays!

Here's some fluff straddling the line between naughty and nice. I hope y'all enjoy, and have a great holiday season.

Love ya!


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