[Merry Christmas! Regardless of wether you celebrate it or not, I've decided to write this out as a present to all of you. Enjoy♥️]
You wake up to colors bombarding your eyesight even behind closed lids, each and every one blinking for just a second before the next one follows. There's shuffling and rustling going on in your apartment, and you can smell coffee. Your back aches a bit, and you realize that, to your distaste, you're sleeping on the couch. And the space behind you is strangely empty.
You groan and bite your lip, blinking away the fatigue in your eyes.
Your entire living room is bathed in a storm of ever-changing harlequin lights, coming from a spot right beside your tv.
Oh god, you think, a Christmas tree. A mostly naked Christmas tree that's only decorated with blinking LED lights, and Gavin sitting on the floor beside it, cross legged, working on untangling the next decoration. But still. A Christmas tree that most definitely wasn't there when you fell asleep on the couch yesterday.
Gavin looks in your direction when the sofa creaks, and his concentrated expression shifts into a soft one, lopsided smile on his face.
"Mornin'." Gavin greets, and you can't help but notice how disheveled he looks. His hair is a mess, just like yours, and he's still in last night's clothes. Yet there's a softness to his features: in spite of his grogginess, he looks well-rested. There's two cups of coffee beside him, set on the floor.
"Good morning." You greet back, and lift yourself off the couch, walking over to him. "You got—"
"A Christmas tree. You said you wanted one, but you were still asleep and today's the twenty-fourth, so I figured..." Gavin smiles in the most genuine way you've seen in a while—you can almost call it childish. There's a certain pure excitement and bliss in his eyes. He doesn't bother getting up from the floor, instead pats it invitingly. "I also made us coffee."
You settle down beside him, looking at the tangled wires in his lap, and then at the cup he hands you. You take it, and realize that the liquid has gone a bit cold, but you don't complain. "Thanks, Gav."
Instead, you turn to look at the Christmas tree, shadows and lights bouncing off your features the moment a smile spreads on your lips. It's positively beautiful. Even all empty and natural like that, its leaves give off the fresh, familiar scent that only lacks a hint of cookies for it to really smell like Christmas.
"Do you like it?" He asks hopefully, and you take a sip of the lukewarm coffee before answering with a smile.
"Yes." You're practically beaming, and Gavin is sure he's never seen something quite this heartwarming. Homely. Pretty. "I love it, Gav."
He bites his lower lip to refrain from grinning in utter, peaceful joy. This is what heaven must feel like. A quiet winter morning with the one you love. You crawl closer to him, cuddling up against his side. He reaches for your hand and takes it in his, then rests them on his thigh before intertwining your fingers. Nestled up against each-other, the both of you switch to staring at the Christmas tree in silence. Which reminds you.
"You said you didn't like Christmas, though." You speak up, and feel his shoulder bump against the side of your temple when he shrugs.
"Yeah, but you do."
You raise your brows in disbelief. "So is this all for me, or-"
"It is." Gavin sighs, though you can't tell wether it's because of something negative or positive. "Though I didn't manage to get it done before you woke up." He nods at the still tangled decorations in his lap.
"But I like decorating." You answer. "So I don't mind."
His brows furrow while he looks down at you. "Really? You like decorating Christmas trees?"
"Yes...?"
"Sounds like a bit of a lie but alright."
"What, did no-one in your family like doing that?"
"Jesus Christ, no." He chuckles and reaches to play with the sleeve of your shirt while he seems to get lost in his thoughts. You draw little patters on the skin of his forearm to accompany his thoughtful fidgeting. "Mol hated it, I hated it, Eli had better things to do, and Tristan couldn't be bothered. There was one time when me and Eli just put our presents for each-other under one of Molly's potted plants and called it a day. Probably the best Christmas in the Kamski household if you ask me. Well, the most quiet one, even though in Mol's opinion, apparently" He pitches his voice up an octave to imitate the voice of his step mother. "'Gavin was probably the one that came up with this disrespectful idea and should be ashamed'."
The both of you laugh through your noses.
"Maybe we can do that next year." You suggest, continuing with the patterns on his skin, chuckling when you see goosebumps form on his arm. "Or whenever you feel like it. Seems like a pretty original idea if you ask me."
Gavin snickers. "And you?"
"I'll be just fine without a big ass tree, don't worry." You trail the loving patterns up into the palm of his hand, where you trace the little creases inside it. "But now that we do have one, let's decorate it."
Languidly, you rise to your feet, and nod for Gavin to follow. He groans childishly, and instead lets himself fall on his back.
"Gav." You say through a laugh. "Get up."
He sighs and looks at you with a smirk, eyes hooded and brows raised. "Make me."
Gavin hooks his hands behind the back of his neck, and stretches out. His muscles stretch under the loose black shirt he's wearing, and it slips, revealing the lower part of his abdomen. There's a shit-eating grin on his lips you're practically dying to kiss off.
You trap his waist between your thighs and set your hands on his forearms. Your face is close enough for you to feel his breath against your lips. Strands of hair hang down from your head, framing your face and ticking his forehead.
Gavin laughs—blissfully, quietly. It's almost as if he doesn't want to let out the warmth bubbling up inside his chest, for this moment to end. Ever.
He frees his arms from your gentle grips, and places your palms in his, above his head, then intertwines your fingers. Gavin continues moving them further away from the two of you, and he has the advantage of his arms being longer than yours, which causes you to end up chest to chest with him, having nowhere else to prop yoursef up.
He snickers wolfishly when you finally give in and tuck your head under his chin.
There's a few seconds of blissful silence, during which Gavin frees his hands from yours, wrapping one around your frame and running the other through your hair. "So I'll take it you like it? The Christmas tree." It's more of a statement than a question, but you hear the silent, well-concealed want for approval hidden behind the sentence.
"Of course." You wrap your legs around his hips, and nuzzle into the palm he sets on your cheek. "It's perfect, Gavin. Thank you." You kiss his wrist, skin calloused against your soft, tender lips. There's a little blush settling on his cheeks, however he doesn't bother hiding it.
"I'm glad, then." Gavin is practically beaming with pride and affection. The hand set on your waist drifts down tentatively, over your butt, stopping on your thigh. "What do you want to do?" He squeezes the flesh. Your fiancé's voice goes a tad deeper, raspier. God, what was he doing to you? "We have the whole day at our disposal, after all."
You're tempted to give in. Almost too tempted, but you still decide to mess with him.
"We could bake cookies for starters." You say, devilish smirk playing on your lips. His disappointed frown makes guilt settle in your stomach, so you settle for a compromise. "Or just...lay here for a little while."
There's a short, light pause in which Gavin taps his fingers against your thigh while he thinks. "Fuck it, let's do that." He finally agrees, and takes a deep breath—enough to make your head comfortably settled on it rise—then closes his eyes. You nuzzle up against his neck, peppering small, lazy kisses on every bit of skin you come across.
Gavin tenses below you, grip on your thighs growing stronger before he bursts into a chuckle. Music to your ears.
You look up to see his features painted in the colors of the Christmas lights. Ever-changing and restless, they highlight the tip of his nose and that happy, blissful grin he wears only for you to see. And when he finally opens his eyes to look at you, you swear there's an entire color spectrum caught in his irises.
"Thank you for this, Gavin." Your hand brushes over his jaw, his cheek, and his lower lip, tracing along his smile. "Everything."
"Glad you like it." He answers, grip on your thighs sliding up to your hips before flipping you over, so that he was on top of you. Gavin leans down, mouth close to your ear, and whispers a tentative, husky: "Because I'm nowhere near done with spoiling you."
You smirk, burying your hand in his hair, matching your tone with his. "Oh really?"
"Yeah." Gavin places a kiss on your jaw then sits up as if nothing had happened. He pats your thighs, then nonchalantly adds with a not too well-concealed shit-eating grin: "So, cookies?"