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Spencer’s been impatiently counting down the days, much to Derek’s amusement, but the day is finally here: they’re decorating their house for Christmas. It feels particularly special this year because it’s their first year in the house Derek had painstakingly renovated and then surprised him with one random evening, and Spencer’s spent weeks thinking about how to make it just right, because it needs to be absolutely perfect and he simply won’t settle for anything less.
Which is how he finds himself anxiously pacing the living room, waiting for his boyfriend to return. He’d popped out earlier in the afternoon to pick up some last minute decorations at Spencer’s behest, but a flurry of snow had started to fall since, and Derek was taking a bit too long for his liking. He worries his lip as he tries to remember how wrapped up his boyfriend was and why on earth he walked into town and didn’t take the car.
Eventually, though, he’s appeased as Derek bursts through the front door, bringing a gust of wind and a small dusting of snow in with him. “Didn’t quite expect that,” he chuckles as Spencer rushes to greet him and help him out of his soaked through coat. “Got the decorations you wanted, though.”
Spencer grins at his jovial attitude and leans up to plant a firm kiss on his lips. “That’s because you’re amazing,” he murmurs, pulling away only marginally before kissing him again.
“Baby if that’s the greeting I get when I bring you goodies, I’m gonna spoil you rotten,” Derek says amusedly as he runs his cold hands up the sides of Spencer’s jumper, smiling at him fondly.
“You already do,” he protests, pulling away from his hold and snatching the bag Derek’s holding to eagerly peer inside. “This is going to look incredible.” He looks back at Derek with excitement lighting up his eyes and he’s rewarded with a gentle kiss on the nose.
“You are too damn adorable, you know that?”
“So you tell me,” Spencer says, his turn to look amused for a moment before snapping into action. “Right, we should get started!”
“Whoa, I hate to burst your bubble, pretty boy, but I’m soaked to the skin,” Derek says, following Spencer into the kitchen as he watches him empty all the bags and survey the decorations with analytical eyes. “I’m gonna take a bath first. Care to join me?”
Spencer’s head snaps up at that. “What if it stops snowing while we’re in the bath?”
Derek shoots him a puzzled look. “Why… would that matter?”
“It’s perfect weather to put up the Christmas decorations while it’s snowing!” Spencer says, like it’s obvious.
“Well,” Derek says diplomatically, “then the snow will have settled and you’ll actually be able to see the picturesque scenery without having to peer through a white haze.” It’s a pretty good answer. He’s got much better at it in the seven years they’ve been together.
Spencer pauses to think it over carefully. “You’re right,” he decides eventually, setting down the garland he was expecting and walking over to Derek. “You make us some hot chocolate and I’ll set it up.” He kisses him again before running up the stairs to the bathroom, making it as cosy as possible with candles and bath salts and bubbles.
Derek’s only a few minutes behind him and the bath is almost full by the time he gets there, Spencer’s sitting submerged in the water as he concentrates on the taps, diligently adjusting the temperature every thirty seconds or so to get it just right. “Sorry to interrupt your tap watching,” he says, smile evident in his voice evn to Spencer as he refuses to look away from the flow of water.
He sets the hot chocolates down on the edge of the bathtub and strips off quickly, feeling the sweet relief at having the cold, damp clothing finally off his body. “Scooch up,” he tells Spencer, intending to squeeze in behind him. If nothing else, it finally manages to snatch his boyfriend’s attention from the taps.
“No, Derek, I’m too big,” Spencer whines, as he always does when they bathe together.
“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart,” Derek says, as he always replies to his boyfriend’s ridiculous argument. “We always manage to fit. Come on.” He finally gets Spencer to slide forwards a little, turning the water off at the same time, and he slides into the bath behind him. It takes them a few moments to get properly comfortable and Spencer almost elbows both mugs off the side of the bath at one point, but they finally settle into one another.
Derek’s chest is cool against Spencer’s back but his skin soon warms as the contact with Spencer’s flush body and the hot water make themselves at home, nestling against him. “This is just what I needed,” Derek sighs as he sips his hot chocolate and settles further into the bath. “My baby in the bath with me and a nice warm drink.”
Spencer blushes, as he always does. Not even seven years of relentless flirting and nicknames could drive out his instinctive reaction to praise, but he also knows Derek likes it. It’s funny to think how much they’ve changed over the last few years, how when they got together back on a case in Michigan in 2009, they would be here in their own house in 2016. Spencer’s filled out and isn’t the skinny little thing Derek fell in love with anymore, not that either of them mind, and Derek -- hardened from the many years of being in the FBI -- had told Spencer his plans to retire a few months ago.
Everything around them has continued to mutate, their circumstances, surroundings, physical appearances, but they still love each other just as much as they have done for all these years. Relentlessly, consistently, unfailingly.
Spencer heads straight for Derek’s drawers as soon as they get out of the bath, dressing himself in one of the warmest hoodies he can find. “What if I wanted to wear that?” Derek teases as he grabs a sweatshirt for himself.
“Oh, please,” Spencer scoffs. “You’re not fooling anyone, Derek, I know you love seeing me in your clothes. You’d rather me wear it than you”
Derek grins widely, pulling the sweater over his head before wrapping Spencer in a close hug, softening when he feels him nestle his face into his neck. “You got me, I do love seeing my gorgeous boy in my clothes,” Derek admits, “but who could blame me?”
Spencer leans back slightly, still pressed against Derek and kisses him softly. “I love you,” he murmurs, and it’s almost shy in its naked vulnerability.
“I love you more,” Derek insists, kissing him again and giving him one last squeeze before putting some space between them. “But I believe we have a house to decorate Dr Reid?”
Spencer’s face lights up at that, and he hurries to pull on some PJ bottoms and a pair of odd socks on before grabbing Derek’s hand and pulling him downstairs. “I wrote it down because I need you to adhere to these very strict instructions,” Spencer says seriously, despite Derek’s small amused smile.
“Yes sir,” he says as he takes the paper, but he corrects himself at Spencer’s stern look. “I will follow it to the letter, baby, don’t worry.” Conceding is definitely worth the bright smile he gets in return.
Spencer plays his specially curated Christmas playlist over the house speaker system as they get to work pinning the garlands and fairy lights and decorations handsewn by Penelope in their designated spots according to Spencer’s plan. Derek thinks it rather looks like Christmas has vomited over their house by the time they head to the tree, but his boyfriend looks so pleased with himself, and for the past seven years his own joy has followed one simple law: if Spencer’s happy, he’s happy.
There’s just one tiny problem with that stipulation: he’s not sure he can quite stomach the ornaments Spencer’s chosen for the tree. “Spencer, baby, you know I love you,” he says slowly as he watches his boyfriend carefully unbox the decorations, “but we are not putting those on the tree.”
He’s somehow managed to find ornaments in the shape of animal skeletons, and he wants to decorate their Christmas tree with them. Derek feels a little lost.
“But they’re anatomically correct animal skeletons ranging from a cricket’s exoskeleton to the bones of a horse,” Spencer protests, as if that will change Derek’s mind.
“Exactly,” he replies. “The whole house is beautifully decorated with garlands and lights and colours and wreaths and you want to hang skeletons on the tree? The most important part of the Christmas decoration process?”
“Yes,” Spencer says slowly, “I want to hang skeletons on the tree because it’s the most important part of the Christmas decoration process.”
Derek takes a deep breath in. “Okay, how about we put some fairy lights and tinsel on, hang some normal baubles and then you can put some of your skeletons on there, too?” It’s a compromise. He’s not exactly thrilled with the idea of staring at bones on his Christmas tree, but at least there’s a little bit of tradition mixed in there, too.
Spencer’s a lot less uncompromising than he used to be, so after a few seconds and a sigh he coalesces. “Alright,” he agrees, “but I get to hang at least eight skeletons. Deal?”
“Deal,” Derek sighs, smiling slightly at the absurdity of his boyfriend. God, he’s in love.
With the Christmas tree hosting a small archeology exhibit among its branches and the house satisfactorily ready for the holidays, they head to the kitchen to make some dinner, both hungry from a busy day of hanging wreaths and plugging in fairy lights. And getting caught in a minor snowstorm, of course. Derek heads straight to the speaker and plugs his phone in, setting it to play Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album, needing a change of pace from the instrumental playlist they’ve been listening to all day. Spencer doesn’t complain though, he just smiles warmly at Derek, kissing him chastely before heading to the fridge to pull out the ingredients needed for a festive chicken dinner.
“We’re making roast potatoes, right?” Derek checks as he pours them both a glass of wine, listening to the sultry voice of Frank Sinatra accompanied by Spencer’s disorganised rummage through the vegetable drawer.
“Yep,” Spencer affirms with his head inside the fridge, eventually emerging with an armful of vegetable and meat, dumping them unceremoniously on the countertop before continuing his search through the kitchen cabinets. They’d moved into the house properly nearly five months ago, but they still haven’t figured out the best way to store food, and Derek was infamous for shoving the grocery shopping in the first cabinet he sees, leading to a rather disorganised system.
He soon finds the right spices and cupboard ingredients for the traybake they’d made countless times before. Derek hands him the glass of wine as soon as he comes to stand next to him again, cradling his cheek with his hand, stroking his thumb over the ruddy flush on Spencer’s cheek. “I love you,” he says gently, looking deep into the warm honey of his eyes and leaning in for a soft kiss.
Spencer’s blushing even more by the time he pulls back, and Derek can’t help but smile at the bashful nature of his boyfriend even after all these years. “I love you more,” Spencer promises, hand running gently down Derek’s muscled arm, appreciating the soft touch of the sweatshirt he’d pulled on earlier.
“Not possible,” Derek grins, punctuating his words with another kiss to Spencer’s lips.
“Stop,” Spencer protests, wiggling out of his hold and turning to the food. “Stop being sappy. We have dinner to make.”
“Very important business,” Derek agrees, but acts the perfect sous chef as Spencer takes care of the vegetables and trimmings and puts him in charge of the chicken. They work quickly and the traybake is in the oven before they know it, leaving them sipping their wine as they lean against the counter, chatting idly.
That is, until I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm starts playing, bright music filling the kitchen as Derek sets his wine glass down, taking Spencer’s from his hand and setting it next to his before he takes his hand and pulls him into the middle of the kitchen.
“What are you doing, Derek?” Spencer giggles as Derek pulls him close and twirls him around the kitchen.
“Shh. We’re dancing,” he whispers, smiling fondly at Spencer’s unabashed happiness. He told himself at the very beginning of their relationship that this was all he really needed to achieve in life; making Spencer happy would forever be enough for him.
Off with my overcoat, off with my glove
Who needs an overcoat? I'm burning with love
Derek dips Spencer down, making him throw his head back in laughter. He holds him there for a second before lifting him back up and kissing him quickly before returning to a comfortable swaying movement, keeping them in time with the uptempo music. He sings along quietly as they look deep into one another’s eyes, continuing to dance around the dimly lit, decked out kitchen.
What do I care how much it may storm?
I’ve got my love to keep me warm
As soon as they pause their dance, Spencer leans in and kisses him, hand moving from his shoulder to the side of his neck as he holds him closer. Derek kisses back just as eagerly as the music switches to the next song, deepening the kiss as he holds Spencer’s waist, caressing his sides gently, savouring the weight of his favourite person pressed up against him in the warmth of the kitchen.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this exact moment,” Spencer whispers earnestly as they pull away.
“Not even when I took you to Bali?” Derek teases, smiling fondly at the joy in his boyfriend’s eyes.
“Shut up,” Spencer admonishes, but he’s smiling too when he leans back in for another kiss.
They eat their dinner together on the sofa. The Christmas lights are twinkling on the tree in the corner of the living room and the decorations Penelope had gifted them brighten the whole room; Derek has to admit that despite the animal skeletons, the house looks beautiful. He’s not sure he could possibly feel more cosy than he is right now, tucking into a delicious traybake, cuddled up next to Spencer while Love Actually plays on the TV.
As soon as their plates are cleared, Spencer predictably cuddles even closer, folding his body into the contours of Derek’s as they watch the intertwining stories of the film. It’s not long before they’re both tearing up at the emotional narrative, sharing a box of tissues between them. Usually it’s Derek who cries at the films they watch, but this particular one seems to be getting to Spencer more than normal: the love between Sarah and her mentally ill brother, Michael, has Spencer stifling sobs as he thinks about his mother.
“Come here, baby,” Derek whispers, fairly tearful himself. He gently guides Spencer to lay down on the sofa with his head in Derek’s lap, and he cards his fingers through the curls he loves so much as they watch the rest of the film play out.
As the credits start to roll, Spencer sits up properly, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder. “That was a bit intense,” he chuckles.
“Have you seen it before?”
“No, Penelope just recommended it to me,” Spencer replies, sniffling again.
“I can’t count the amount of times she’s forced me to sit through it,” Derek laughs. “I cry every time, to be honest.”
Spencer doesn’t reply, he just takes one of Derek’s hands sitting in his lap and fiddles gently with his fingers, tracing the outline, the veins, the contour. It’s a comforting little motion for both of them, a point of connection, something to focus on, shrinking the world that sometimes feels so big down to just two hands, one tracing the other.
“Come on, baby,” Derek says after a few minutes, “let’s get up to bed.”
“I’m not tired yet,” he protests quietly, snuggling further into Derek’s side.
“Well you can read in bed,” Derek points out. “But I want to sleep. I’m not the young man I once was, you know.”
Spencer cranes his head up to meet Derek’s eyes. “You’re even sexier now,” Spencer says, and it’s so random that Derek can’t help the bark of laughter it elicits.
“Well, I’m glad you think so,” he grins.
“You didn’t call me baby,” Spencer pouts, rotating his body so he’s straddling Derek’s lap.
“I’m very sorry,” Derek says mock-sincerely, lifting a hand to brush a stray curl from Spencer’s forehead. “How can I make it up to you?”
“A letter of apology to management,” Spencer suggests.
“Management being you, I’m guessing?” Derek smiles as he hums in affirmation. “Come on you, let’s head up to bed.”
Spencer grumbles the whole way about old men and going to sleep before 11pm, but it only serves to make Derek smile fondly, kissing him to shut him up as soon as they walk into the bedroom. They’re soon tucked up in bed, Christmas candles burning as fairy lights glow along their journey around the coving. Spencer starts on his new book, lit up dimly by the cosy lighting of the room, while Derek settles down to sleep.
He can’t believe he has a Christmas like this to look forward to for the rest of his life.