12 Days of Kissmas (Eric Singer x Tommy Thayer)

On the Eighth Day of Christmas

The doorbell rang but Tommy didn't bother waiting for me to open it, just walked in with a bag of stuff for decorating cookies. "Oh okay, just walk in like you own the place!" I said with a grin, pulling the cookie dough out of the fridge. "Well hey, we've seen each other every day for over a week straight at this point, I basically do own the place. Put my name down on the lease or something," he said with a grin. "Whatever," I said, unable to stop smiling as I set the dough on the counter, getting out a tub of flour and spreading it generously across the countertop. 

Tommy grabbed a rolling pin, starting to roll out the dough. "I bet I'm gonna make better cookies than you," he teased. "Mm doubtful seeing as how you didn't flour the dough or the rolling pin and now you've got yourself a bit of a mess there," I retorted. "Oh, shut up," he muttered, face flushed as he scraped together the ruined bits of dough, starting over. I grabbed a second rolling pin and set to work, having a much easier time of it seeing as how I actually used flour.

Tommy gave me a smile before reaching over and brushing some flour off my cheek with a thumb. "You got a little something there," he said with a grin. I quivered at his soft touch, hoping my face wasn't burning. "Well at least my cookies aren't sticking to the counter," I retorted. "Okay look, I'm trying!" he said defensively. "I told you! Put more flour on the counter!" I cried in exasperation. "Ugh, fine!" he said, grabbing a handful of flour and dumping it onto the dough, rolling it out aggressively and sending clouds of flour flying everywhere.

"You're 100% going to be responsible for cleaning up my kitchen," I said under my breath, wiping some flour off my hands on my bandana. "Aw is that why you wear headbands? To clean your hands with?" he teased. I scooped up a handful of flour, chucking it at him. "Shut up. It's an added benefit." He laughed, reaching over me to grab the rolling pin, rolling out the dough. "Well regardless of any benefits, they do like nice on you. I like when you wear blue ones that match your eyes. The purples ones are the nicest though, they make your eyes stand out the most," he said with a faint smile.

I felt my heart melt at just the thought of him paying enough attention to my eyes to know which colors made them look the best. "Thanks! Can you pass me that cookie cutter?" I asked, pointing at the Christmas tree shaped one. "Mm no I'm gonna use that one exclusively," he said with a grin. I rolled my eyes, ducking under his arm and grabbing it anyway. Eventually, all the cookies had been cut out and put in the oven to bake. After they finished baking and cooling, it was time for the fun part, which was decorating.

I set to work putting green icing on the Christmas tree cookies I had made while Tommy worked secretively on a gingerbread man, shooting glances at me but shielding the cookie from view. "What're you working on?" I asked. "A gingerbread man," he said. "What kind?" "Mm it's a secret," he said, giving me another glance.

"Can I see it?" I asked, trying to peer over his shoulder, but he shook his head, shifting more so he blocked my view. "No! Not until I'm done!" he said, using his foot to push me away. Heaving a sigh, I went back to decorating some more tree cookies. "Fine, be that way," I grumbled. We worked in a comfortable silence, both of us too focused on what we were doing to do much talking except for the occasional request for a color of icing. Finally, he took a step back, huge smile on his face. "Ta-daaaa!" he said, holding out the plate. 

My heart absolutely melted as I looked at the little gingerbread man with long blond hair and a purple headband, two blue dots of icing above a wide smile. "Aww Tommy," I murmured. "You like it? It's you, in case you couldn't tell." I grinned, nodding. "I could tell, and yes, I like it! You did an excellent job, the resemblance is uncanny." "Don't patronize me," he grumbled, and I set down the icing bag I was using in favor of giving him a hug. "I'm not! I love it, it's adorable!" I said. "Eric! You got flour all over my shirt!" he cried. "Oh nooo I'm so sorry," I said, patting him on the chest and leaving a nice white handprint. 

"You are the absolute worst," he muttered, but he was smiling. "Aw come on you know you love me," I teased. "True, you are my best friend," he said, half to himself, and I died a little internally. But I still had time, I had four more days to get that to change. Finally, we had both finished decorating the cookies, and he gave me a smile. "So do we get to eat them now?" he asked eagerly, and I nodded, grabbing a carton of milk out of the fridge and pouring us each a glass. "Indeed we do! Help yourself," I said. He grabbed two plates, filling both of them with cookies before handing me one. "There you go!" 

"Hey wait, I don't get to eat myself?" I asked, and he shrugged. "Nah, I wanna eat you," he said with a grin. I just rolled my eyes, sitting on the kitchen table as he sat in an actual chair. "Fine, be like that! Can I at least take a picture first?" "Of course! Always happy to have my artistic talent shared with the world," he said with a smirk. "You're so full of yourself," I said, giving him a shove before taking a picture of the gingerbread man, wanting it more for myself than to share with anyone. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. We all know Eric and Paul are the real artists." 

"Well I still love it," I said, wishing I could say that I loved him too. But I had time.

Eight days down, four to go.