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John McClane entered the darkened house quietly and just as softly shut the door behind him. He locked it and toed off his shoes with equal care. Matt had promised to wait up for him, but it was 2 am. Depending on how you looked at things, it was either very late on Christmas Eve or very early on Christmas morning. John didn’t give a damn either way – it was just too fucking late.
Although the house was dark, there was a soft, twinkly light coming from the living room and John followed it. When he got there, he leaned against the door frame, exhaustion forgotten at the moment as he drank in the sight before him.
Matt had fallen asleep on the couch, right across from the Christmas tree. John still couldn’t quite believe that either one of them was there. First, that Matt would want a emotionally scarred cop and general asshole like John and, second, that the other man would insist on a tree.
John had brought the subject of Christmas up as a joke, expecting it to prompt a tirade about commercialism and how the retailers were putting subliminal messages in advertising in order to make people spend more money than they could afford. What he got was the exact opposite. Even the most die hard conspiracy theorist had soft spots and apparently Christmas was Matt’s.
With a growing sense of wonder, John had capitulated as Matt went into a flurry of preparations. Decorations and a tree were procured. Even more surprising, the tree was an artificial one. Again, John had expected a lecture, something along the lines of the evils of plastic, but Matt had serenely pointed out that an artificial tree can be used for years and that ecological impact between real and artificial evened out in the end. John, or more correctly, his wallet, was happy about that. Real trees in metropolitan New York could go for hundreds of dollars.
The real revelation, however, was only indirectly related to Christmas.
Shortly after Thanksgiving, John had come home in a foul mood. He’d been in the middle of a tirade, which was bad enough, but what was worse was that it hadn’t been limited to just work issues. When John caught sight of the wounded look in Matt’s eyes, he realized the wrongness of what was coming out of his mouth. John’s rant hadn’t been aimed at Matt, not really, but the kid was catching shit for it anyway. Upon that realization, John had stopped. Just stopped what he was saying mid-rant and grabbed Matt into his arms, whispering hoarse apologies as he buried his face in Matt’s dark hair. John was determined not to make the same mistake again. He’d already lost the first love of his life for being an asshole; he wasn’t about to make the same mistake and lose the second too.
So John McClane had done the unthinkable and had – entirely at his own suggestion – sought counseling for anger issues. The whole process had been far less painful that he’d imagined and had resulted in a couple of unexpected dividends.
The first dividend was stretched out on the couch in front of him. Matt was positioned on his belly, with his arms wrapped around a throw pillow. Matt hadn’t stirred, not even when John’s ruminations had kept him watching his lover for a few minutes.
Just as John’s stress had worried Matt, Matt’s consumption of energy drinks had concerned John. Thankful that John had started counseling, Matt had agreed to stop with Red Bull, Monster, and similar crap. Going cold turkey hadn’t been option, so Matt had gradually cut down. The last few days were the first he’d completely been without. Normally a nocturnal creature, the lack of hideous amounts of caffeine and sugar were probably why Matt had slept completely through John coming home. John didn’t like the side-effects of Matt coming off the stuff, but was relieved that Matt was giving it up.
Tired of just looking when what he really wanted to do was touch, John padded into the living room proper and crouched down by the couch.
“Matty?”
“Mmmm,” Matt murmured and shifted position, but didn’t really wake up.
John smiled and rested a hand on the small of Matt’s back. “C’mon, Matty. Wakey, wakey.”
Matt’s nose and forehead wrinkled, but his eyes were still shut. “Go ‘way.”
“You sure that’s what you want?” John smirked, even though his lover’s eyes weren’t open to see it. He slowly slid his hand down until it cupped Matt’s butt. “You really want me to leave you down here on a cold couch when you could be sharing a nice, warm bed with me?”
Matt’s eyes popped open and he turned until he was on his side. His smile was sleepy, but welcoming. “Hey, you’re home.”
John bent down for a kiss, which Matt readily provided. “Yeah, finally.”
“N’proble-. . . .” Matt broke off into a big yawn and then smiled at John sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” John shrugged off the apology. “Now that you aren’t drinking that energy shit, makes sense that you might actually sleep once in a while.”
That was yet another benefit to getting Matt off the energy drinks. Before, the kid had kept worse hours than a cop and John’d thought only nurses did that. Besides, Matty was adorable when he was sleepy, a fact that John had no intention of sharing. John happened to like his balls and knew Matt would probably remove them if he heard the word ‘adorable’ applied to himself.
Matt frowned and John remembered another side effect that his lover had been experiencing.
“You got a headache?” John asked.
“Little one,” Matt admitted, which meant his head was probably pounding like it was a bass drum being beat on by Godzilla.
“I’ll get the ibuprofen,” John kissed Matt again before getting up and heading to the kitchen. He made quick work of getting two pills along with a glass of water. When he returned to the living room, Matt was sitting up and rubbing his forehead.
“Here you go, babe,” John handed them off to Matt.
Matt grinned. “Thanks, snookums.”
John relaxed a little. If Matt could tease about nicknames, then he wasn’t feeling too bad. The younger man obediently took his pills, but only used a couple of swallows of water to accomplish it. Matt was about to put the glass on a side table, when John stopped him.
“Hey, the headaches wouldn’t be so bad if you drank more water,” John gently pushed the hand still holding the glass towards Matt’s mouth.
Matt rolled his eyes, but downed the rest of the water and held it up for John’s inspection. “Happy, Mom?”
“If you think I’m your mother, then you obviously flunked health class,” John sat down on the end of the couch and pulled Matt closer to him. “I am not your mommy.”
“No, but you could be my daddy,” Matt waggled his eyebrows in a way that was probably supposed to be lecherous, but just looked ridiculous on him.
“Jesus, kid, I’ve warned you about calling me that,” John glared at the younger man. He had no problem with the age difference between them, but Matt had never been a father. He’d never had a little kid call him daddy before. It made using it between lovers kind of icky – at least for John.'
“Sorry,” Matt said, although from the twinkle in his eyes, he wasn’t sorry at all.
“C’mere, you,” John mock-growled and finished pulling Matt to his side. Matt sighed happily and rested his head on John’s chest.
The two men sat in silence for a few minutes before something occurred to John. “Hey, Matty.” John waited until Matt looked up at him. “Merry Christmas.”
Matt’s smile was slow and sweet. “Merry Christmas.”
They kissed again, but there was no real urgency to it. Both of them were too tired to start messing around.
“Hey, it’s Christmas,” Matt stated when their lips parted.
“Yeah,” John looked at the younger man suspiciously. Matt was sleepy, but not stupid and John wondered what his lover was up to.
“You know what Christmas means?” Matt asked, but then went on before John could answer. “Presents.”
“Presents, huh?” John hugged Matt tightly. “I already have my present; you off that energy drink crap.”
Matt looked at him skeptically. “Oh, yeah, wonderful present. You got a whole month of putting up with me being tired, jittery, having headaches and whining all the time. Some present that is.”
John grinned at him. “You know what they say, it’s the thought that counts.”
“Speaking of thoughts, hold that one,” Matt was off the couch in a flash and under the tree. He emerged with a gift bag, which he handed off to John.
Wary, John just stared at Matt instead of looking in the bag. “Where’d that come from?”
Sure, there were presents under the tree, but as far as John was aware, they were for his kids and members of Matt’s family. Well, those gifts and the one he’d also secreted under the tree. He couldn’t believe that Matt had been sneaky as well.
“Just open it,” Matt ordered. The kid looked proud, but also nervous as hell.
Without saying anything, John reached into the gift bag. He found a sheet of paper and also something that felt like fabric, but kind of slippery too, like a seat belt was. When he pulled it out, he saw that it was a collar. He almost started to tease Matt about being kinky, but then took a look at the paper. It turned out to be a certificate.
“A dog?” John was floored. The certificate stated that it was to be redeemed for the dog of John’s choice from the local humane society. “You got me a dog?”
“Lucy said you used to have them all the time when she was growing up,” Matt talked quickly, before John could voice anything further. “She said you only stopped when you and Holly split up and then only because you weren’t home regular hours and it wasn’t fair to the dog. Well, you have me now, so the dog won’t be alone all day. Having a dog will encourage you to exercise, they’re proven to have a calming effect and you’ll finally have someone to watch baseball games w-. . . .”
The only foolproof way to stop Matt when he was on a roll was to kiss him, which John did gladly. Matt was tense, obviously expecting John to have an issue with his gift, but he relaxed as the kiss went on. Finally, they had to break for air.
“You got me a dog,” John’s voice was full of wonder as he bumped his forehead against Matt’s. He’d never said anything about dogs to Matt, although he had mentioned to his counselor that he missed having one around. Trust Matt to pick up on it anyway.
“I thought presenting you with a puppy with a bow on its neck was a little cliché,” Matt’s smile was both happy and relieved. “Besides, I figured you might want to pick out your own.”
“We’ll go together,” John told him. “I have the day after Christmas off.”
“You want to go right after Christmas?” Matt looked at him in disbelief.
“Well, they’re closed tomorrow, right?” John said. He enjoyed watching the realization spread across Matt’s face that his gift not only didn’t bomb, but was actually appreciated.
“I bet you end up with one of those little toy dogs that can be carried around in a purse,” Matt settled against John again. “With a little pink bow on the top of its head.”
John snorted. “When’s the last time you saw me with a purse?”
“You have a point,” Matt grinned. “Besides, a tiny dog might put a dent in your masculinity.”
“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d show you just how dent-less my masculinity is,” John growled and was rewarded with an outright laugh from Matt. “C’mon, let me up. You’re not the only one who has a present to dole out.”
Matt wiggled until he’d moved enough that John could get up, a motion that made John regret the truthfulness of the statement about how tired he was. He went to the opposite side of the tree that Matt had and picked out a package he’d hidden earlier. He was a lot more sympathetic to Matt’s nervousness as he approached the younger man. John knew Matt would love it, but he had doubts to whether the gift was actually worthy of that kind of reaction. He already knew that the wrapping wasn’t.
When Matt saw the size and shape of the box, his eyes lit up. John barely managed to hand it off and sit back down before the paper was flying. Matt had the box open in a short amount of time. “Wow, I had no idea you’d made one of these for me!”
John and his counselor had quickly come to the conclusion that a lot of John’s anger was related to frustration about things he couldn’t control. The counselor had suggested several ways to cope and no one had been more surprised than John when the one that stuck turned out to be knitting.
At first John had needed all of his concentration for his needles and yarn, leaving him no extra brain power left over to spend on nursing his frustration. As he grew more confident, the knitting action itself was soothing. The other cops had made fun of him at first, but as they saw John start to mellow a little, that died down. Well, the death glare John bestowed on anyone who dared say anything might have had something to do with the lack of teasing too. No one, not even a hardened NYPD cop, wanted to be on the receiving end of one of those.
The first project that John had completed was a simple potholder. Matt had it displayed proudly in their kitchen, which John said was ridiculous, but actually was quite proud of. His pride wasn’t so much about the stupid potholder, but what it represented – his commitment to Matt.
Lucy had been pretty impressed with his efforts too, which with the holidays coming up, had inspired John to make scarves for both her and Jack as Christmas presents. Matt had been very supportive as John had knitted whenever he was home, but John would have had to have been blind not to see the longing in his lover’s eyes. What Matt hadn’t known was that John had been working on a scarf for Matt too, but only at work, so that he could surprise the other man.
John realized he’d succeeded with his surprise – maybe a little too well, from the look on Matt’s face.
“You really didn’t think I wouldn’t make one for you too?” John asked, trying not to feel hurt. He knew that Matt’s deep-seated insecurities preceded his relationship with John.
Matt shrugged. He was fingering the scarf and staring at it instead of looking at John. “Lucy and Jack come first, I get that.”
Yet another thing John loved about Matt, that he was never jealous about John’s relationship with his kids.
“You’re important too,” John reminded him firmly. He was a stubborn bastard and would say it as many times as Matt needed to believe it.
“How’d you have time to make this anyway?” Matt asked, changing the subject and John let him. Loaded emotional discussions were never something he enjoyed, but especially not on Christmas morning.
“Turns out I can knit and do surveillance at the same time,” John stated with some satisfaction. “It’s nice to have something to do when I’m watching someone than just drink coffee and let my ass get numb.”
Matt smiled and lifted the scarf out of the box. John could tell the exact moment that his lover noticed the differences between the scarf John had knitted for him and the two he’d done for his kids.
“It’s really long,” Matt stated and then, with a growing sense of wonder, added, “and it’s striped.”
The scarf John had knitted for Lucy had been a deep blue and Jack’s a forest green. Matt’s scarf, however, had stripes on it and they were far from random.
“It’s like that Dr. Whats-It that you like so much,” John told him. “Freddie helped.”
“It’s Dr. Who,” Matt corrected him almost absently. “And you willingly talked to Freddie about it?”
“Yeah,” John and Freddie had come to a truce of sorts. John didn’t ridicule Freddie about living in his mother’s basement and Freddie stopped trying to convince Matt to dump John. They’d never be besties, but they managed.
“You knit me a Dr. Who scarf?” Matt’s expression was of disbelief as he stated the obvious.
“Well, doing the solid colors was getting kind of boring,” John scratched at the back of his head to hide his embarrassment.
A huge grin slowly spread across Matt’s face. “You knit me a Dr. Who scarf.”
Matt wrapped the scarf around his neck and then he pounced. The younger man had been sitting next to John on the couch, but before John knew it, Matt was straddling his lap and kissing John enthusiastically.
“You,” Matt was a little breathless, “knit me a Dr. Who scarf.”
“So you keep saying,” John was a little distracted by the way Matt was wiggling on top of him. Parts of him were starting to get interested, despite how tired he was. “Say, as long as you’re already on my lap, do you wanna tell ol’ Santa what you want for Christmas? Maybe Santa’ll have something special in his bag for you.”
For a moment, Matt’s face went blank and then he all but jumped off John’s lap. “Okay, I get now why you don’t like me calling you Daddy.” He rubbed his thighs in a nervous gesture. “Gross.”
John’s lips twitched.
Matt’s love for all things Christmas extended to Santa Claus – but a purer Santa than what John had just suggested. “What’s the matter, Matty? Is it because I don’t have a Santa hat on my bald head?” His lips twitched as he moved his hips in a distinctive motion. “Either of my heads?”
Matt wagged a finger at John. “You are an evil man.”
“Santa Claus is coming to town,” John smirked as he softly sang.
“Not if you keep that up,” Matt warned him, but he was smiling. As John’s smirk grew wider, he realized how his wording could be construed. “A grin like that will get you on the naughty list.”
“Hate to tell you this, Matt, but I think I’m already on it,” John got up from the couch and walked over to Matt. He put his hands on the younger man’s hips and pulled him closer. “How’s the headache?”
“Better,” Matt told him, leaning up for a kiss, but yawning in the middle of it.
John chuckled softly. Although the wiggling and the banter had started some interest from ‘little Santa,’ he had to admit that he was too tired for fooling around too. “Yeah, ditto, kiddo. I guess us old men will just have to go to bed.”
“Good idea,” Matt let himself be led towards the stairs and turned off the tree as they walked by the switch.
They were half way up the stairs when John abruptly stopped. “Wait a minute, you sure you don’t want to leave out some milk and cookies?”
Matt rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “Jerk.”
Yeah, he was, John admitted to himself as they continued towards their bed, but lucky for him, Matt seemed to love him anyway.
~the end~