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and everything is icy and blue
and you would be there, too
under the mistletoe
watching the fire glow
and telling me, “I love you”
----
“What do you think of this one, love?”
Alex turns at the sound of Henry’s voice, eyeing the ornament ball assortment in his hands. It’s a simpler array – just an even number of solid gold ornaments and white ornaments that are vaguely shiny. Not glittery, just iridescent enough to reflect the light.
He takes the box out of Henry’s hand and assesses it, wrinkling his nose. “It’s a little… boring, don’t you think?”
Henry snorts. “Of course you would think that.”
“How would you describe it, then?” Alex challenges, stepping closer and lifting his chin to meet Henry’s eyes.
“Golds and whites are classy, darling.”
Alex should tell Henry more how much he’s come to truly adore his accent, the way his voice curls around vowels, all his little enunciations and specificities that are so unique to his speech, but especially how the word “darling” falling past his lips might always be his favorite. It rattles around in his brain, like a direct shot of serotonin, and Henry really should know that.
Maybe later, he’ll tell him.
Right now, though, he has an argument to win.
“Is that what we are?” Alex asks, eyebrows raised. “Classy?”
“It’s certainly what I am,” Henry quips, taking the box of ornaments back from Alex.
“Uh huh.” His eyes catch on something down the aisle, just above his vantage point over Henry’s shoulder. It’s glittering in the fluorescent lights of the Target aisle they’re on. Amy is posted at the end of the shelves, hands clasped in front of her, and Alex knows one of Henry’s PPOs is behind him on the other side doing the same thing. It’s been quiet today, thankfully.
Vaguely, Alex wonders if their security miss the excitement.
Target is certainly pretty tame compared to some of their previous outings. A few people have recognized them, but most have moved on without giving them a second glance. Alex thinks he saw one person snap a photo, and one person did a double take when they walked by with their shopping cart, but for the most part, people in their neighborhood have stopped paying attention to them.
Alex has to admit, it’s really fucking nice to feel even somewhat normal.
It’s their first Christmas in the brownstone since Alex moved in, and the one thing he had begged for was to decorate it with as much Christmas décor as they could find. When he was little, before his parents had split, decorating their house for Christmas had been one of his favorite things. They’d pull all the boxes down from the attic and spend an entire Saturday hanging tinsel and strings of lights and decorating the Christmas tree. More times than not, it was a disaster of a decorating job, imbalanced and messy and perfect, all the same. He and June would always argue over who got to put the angel on the top of the tree, and when he won, he would sit on his dad’s shoulders and the angel perpetually wound up just a little crooked, and their parents would laugh and tell him that it was still beautiful. They would always curl up on the couch once they were finished and watch a Christmas movie that Alex would always fall asleep to before it was over.
At the White House, the decorations were extravagant and elegant, and to an extent, Alex loved those, too. There were always lights hung up on all of the trees on the lawn, sprigs of fake holly on all of the hallway tables, the biggest wreath he’d ever seen hanging on the front door. It was fun to watch them get put up, to feel the Christmas spirit creeping into the air. Sometimes, Alex thought that the decorations were a bit too stale, a bit too perfect. The Christmas before Henry first kissed him, he’d walked down the hallway on the night of the 26th and ached for the disorganized beauty of his childhood Christmas decorations, wishing he could fight with June one more time over who got to put on the tree topper.
So, when Henry had asked him if he wanted to do anything special for their first Christmas living together, he’d blurted out that he wanted to decorate the entire brownstone without hesitation. He isn’t sure exactly what it’ll wind up looking like, maybe some wonderful assortment of the two of them – Henry’s quiet grace and Alex’s chaotic energy.
All he knows for sure is that he is suddenly very focused on the two golden glitter reindeer that his feet move him toward, brushing gently past Henry to pick them up off the shelf. He thinks Henry had been insisting the merits of simpler decorations, but Alex been distracted as soon as he’d seen them, so bright and ornate.
He turns back to Henry, smiling with the item behind his back as he closes the distance between them again. “Okay, I hear you. I do. But allow me to counter with-“ He pulls the outlandish decoration out from behind him. “-this.”
Henry tries to keep his face neutral. Alex can see it in the flat line of his mouth and his slightly furrowed brow, both of which are taut and twitching. But Alex grins, and one corner of Henry’s mouth quirks upward.
They still just stare at each other for a long moment, eyes locked, a true feat of their combined stubbornness. Henry tilts his head, one brow raised high on his forehead, refusing, for the moment, to back down, the stupid box of ornaments still clutched tightly in his hands. Alex has the unprompted thought that he loves the spark in Henry’s eyes and has to breathe in deep through his nose to fight back the urge to kiss the purse of his lips.
It’s another thing he adds to his list of things to do later: 1) remind Henry how much he loves his accent, especially on the word “darling” and 2) kiss Henry’s pout. It’s a manageable list. He’ll definitely make the time for it.
But he can’t back down from this impromptu staring contest, not now.
Henry eventually sighs, and Alex’s heart twists in his chest when the expression on his face shifts into something soft and affectionate. Which is stupid, because they’ve been together for nearly two years now, and he shouldn’t still have to tamp down the stirring in his stomach every time Henry just fucking smiles at him. “Do you really want it, love?”
And he didn’t really, not seriously. He was just being facetious, originally. But he looks back down at it, dazzling and an absolute nightmare of glitter that will definitely get everywhere. David will probably try to eat the runaway glitter, too, which is another issue entirely. But it reminds him of frenzied childhood Saturdays in December, covering a house in Christmas decorations even though it was still over 70 degrees outside. And, well, they are cool. “Yeah,” he says. “Actually, yeah. Kinda.”
Blue eyes roll skyward, but Henry grins and grabs their cart, pushing it in Alex’s direction anyway. “You get one, Alex. I hope this one is worth it.”
Henry puts the box of ball ornaments back on the shelf, but Alex grabs it and tosses it in, too.
He pretends not to notice Henry’s smile.
----
Alex puts the reindeer on their fireplace mantel, front and center and impossible to miss. It almost looks too big for the thin surface, but Alex makes it work, grinning when he stands back to admire his handywork. There’s tinsel draped across it, too, red and green and gold twined together and hanging over the edges.
He likes it. It feels like home.
Henry grabs him around the waist and pulls Alex’s back into his chest as they stare at it. He feels Henry’s chuckle against his ear and has to fight back a shiver.
“It’s so garish.”
Alex beams, resting the back of his head on Henry’s shoulder and leaning into his embrace. “I like it.”
He’s poking fun, just a little, but Henry settles against him and props his chin on Alex’s shoulder, fingers gentle against his stomach. “I suppose we’ve long established that I’d just about give you anything you wanted, darling. It’s those damned eyelashes, and that-“ He plops a kiss to Alex’s cheekbone. “-damned smirk. I’m powerless to your charms.”
“Baby, do you think I’m pretty?” Alex asks, angling his neck to look back and up at Henry, knowing his wide grin is bordering on obnoxious.
Henry cuts his eyes at him. “Unfairly so. Genuinely, how am I supposed to maintain any sense of independence and self-determination when I am reduced to putty underneath your gaze?”
Alex turns, threading his hands together behind Henry’s neck and leaning in to slot their lips together. Henry responds easily, like he always does, kissing him back and making Alex’s toes curl in the fuzzy socks on his feet. Santa Clauses are stretched across the tops of them and Henry has a matching pair with Rudolphs. Alex had snuck those into the cart last minute, and before they had started putting everything up around the brownstone, he’d begged Henry to wear them with him.
To be fair, a “please, baby?” was really all it took.
Which, yeah. He guesses Henry isn’t stretching the truth much.
Alex slides one of his feet between Henry’s to bring them even closer together as they kiss until he remembers that he has to breathe. When he pulls away, their foreheads bump together.
“You know I would do anything for you, too, right?” The question slips out, because he’s pretty sure Henry was mostly teasing, but he has to know that it isn’t one-sided at this point, right?
Alex’s eyes are closed, but he can hear the smile in Henry’s voice. “You faced jetlag and your family’s confusion for months just to see me whenever you could.” He kisses Alex again. “You crossed an ocean in the middle of the night to tell me you loved me and to fight for us and dropped everything a few weeks later to be there for me and help me face my homophobic family.” Another kiss, soft against Alex’s mouth. “You make me tea on your early class days so that it’s ready when I wake up, and cook breakfast every Saturday, and have never once left home without kissing me and telling me that you love me.”
Henry’s hand brushes across Alex’s jaw, and when his eyes flutter open, Henry’s own blue eyes are stupidly gentle and beautiful, and Alex isn’t sure how his body manages to hold all of the love that he has for him. It’s still overwhelming sometimes. “So you know, then.”
“So I know, darling.”
Alex squeezes at Henry’s neck. “I love when you call me that. Your accent makes it sound so…” He shrugs, scrunching his nose. “I don’t know. I probably love it as much as you like me calling you ‘baby’, honestly.”
Henry tries to plaster a frown on his face. “Where on earth did you get the idea that I like that?”
“You’re wearing Rudolph socks right now because of it,” Alex deadpans, glancing down at their feet.
“I wanted to wear these… lovely accessories,” Henry counters, but then a smile cracks the planes of his face. “Whatever. Darling. Noted. Thank you for your review. Management will take it into consideration.”
“The customer service here could be improved, too,” Alex tells him, and then, because they existed on a list together and he feels like he has to be efficient with checking things off, Alex tugs on Henry’s head and kisses his pouted lips, just for a moment. Henry is smiling into the kiss and their teeth bump, making them both laugh. Henry’s hand is big and warm against his cheek, and God, he’s still so in love he could die, like every cell in his body was created for the sole purpose of loving the man in front of him. Henry’s tongue brushes against his bottom lip as he kisses him again, and when they pull away, Alex murmurs, “Okay, I’ll increase my rating by half a star. But that’s it.”
“Christ,” Henry murmurs, kissing him again. Probably to shut him up.
Alex doesn’t mind.
Henry’s fingers trail back down to Alex’s waist and wrap around him, and for a moment it’s reminiscent of a memory so burned into his brain that he knows he’ll carry it with him forever; a mostly dark museum and swaying between statues and clinging tightly to a sliver of hope that everything would be okay. And well, once he gets the idea, he can’t exactly ignore it. He pulls his lips from Henry’s. “Hey Alexa,” he says, pulling Henry closer. “Play Christmas music.”
“What are we doing?” Henry asks, eyes curious as their smart speaker confirms the request.
“Dancing, baby.” Alex moves one hand from his neck to tangle their fingers together as he starts to shift back and forth.
“Oh.” If he’s surprised, he recovers quickly, tightening his arm so that their bodies brush. Alex presses his nose into Henry’s jaw and inhales deeply, registering the combined smell of Henry and the cinnamon candle that’s been burning for the last two hours, and it might be his new favorite scent.
They dance as “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas” starts to play, turning in circles among the Christmas decorations that they’ve managed to put up. The tree is in the corner, with such an eclectic selection of ornaments that Alex can’t help but smile – there’s a cartoonish beagle that June got Henry, a University of Texas longhorn logo, Henry’s gold and white ball ornaments that he’d wanted dotted throughout the fake pine leaves. There are various tinsels scattered around the surfaces in the main living area, one strand hanging over the opening from the kitchen into the sitting room. A Santa Claus gnome sits next to their coatrack by the door.
It's perfect.
Henry rests his cheek against Alex’s hair, fingers rubbing circles into the small of his back as they sway. Alex just breathes, his head tucked into Henry’s shoulder, and tries to blink back the sudden moisture in his eyes, because he still can’t really believe that they’re here.
They live together in New York, both working on something they’re passionate about, and they come home to each other at night and watch movies and make love and walk David and exist in the same space because they’re allowed to, because they fought for the ability to do so. He’s so goddamn lucky that he gets to have this, the most beautiful thing that’s ever been his.
He holds on tighter.
“The place does look quite nice,” Henry says, unaware of the emotion constricting Alex’s throat.
Alex nods a little, his cheek brushing against Henry’s sweater. “Thanks for humoring me with all the decorating. We used to do it as a family when I was growing up, before my parents split, and, I guess…” He picks up his head and glances around. “It might not seem like a big deal, but it meant a lot to me.”
He didn’t mean for emotion to tighten his throat so suddenly, but his voice comes out strained and it really shouldn’t be this big of a deal, but the brownstone looks like Christmas exploded inside of it, bright and colorful and beautiful and theirs.
“Mmm,” Henry kisses his forehead. “I was happy to decorate our home with you, darling.”
Alex swallows, our home settling into his chest and making it feel like it might burst. He pushes his fingers into the hair at the base of Henry’s neck and tugs gently. If he was the Alex of a year ago, he’d probably be terrified of comparing anything with himself and Henry to his parents, terrified that they might still crash and burn, too, and wind up on separate sides of a country or an ocean, without even the excuse of children to bring them back together for holidays.
He isn’t scared of that anymore, though. After everything, emails and fighting back and finding this little slice of heaven in a New York City apartment, he’s never been more sure that he’ll never let something go, that in fifty years they’ll still be dancing around their living room in socked feet and driving each other a little crazy.
If Henry notices Alex’s wistfulness, he doesn’t comment on it. “We could always add more decorations, too. We may not have gone far enough.” Alex hears the mischief in his voice, and it makes him smile. “Perhaps we can get some mistletoe?”
Alex chuckles, pressing his mouth against Henry’s pulse point. “Looking for excuses to kiss me?”
“No, David, actually.”
“Oh, fuck you, sweetheart.”
Henry’s laugh echoes, lovely and encompassing, moving the hair near Alex’s temple. “Well, I was operating under the assumption that I didn’t particularly need excuses to kiss you.”
Alex thinks about teasing him, but instead he picks up his head to kiss him softly. “You don’t.” He watches the smile that lights up Henry’s face for a moment, the pink tinge to his cheeks that Alex brushes his thumb over. His eyes catch on the lit-up tree behind him. “Maybe one year in the future we can get a real tree.”
Henry’s fingers trail up his spine and back down as they continue to turn in circles in the middle of their living room. “Sticking around, then, are you?”
Their noses brush. “Forever, sweetheart.”
Henry is quiet for a long moment. “And no more Christmases apart?”
He’s thinking of last year, Alex knows, of a phone call at one in the morning Alex’s time on Christmas morning, their voices hushed and sad because an ocean was separating them, and a snowstorm was keeping it that way. “Not if I have any say,” is what Alex tells him now, pulling him down for another kiss.
Alex tucks himself back into Henry’s body, face in his shoulder, and they drift even closer together as they dance, in their apartment, promises of more Christmases and more years and forever tucked safely in their little bubble with them, and a new song starts, and the music around them continues to play, holidays are joyful, there’s always something new, but every day’s a holiday, when I’m near to you.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” Alex whispers. “I love you.”
Henry’s lips brush against his hair. “Happy Christmas, darling. I love you, too.”
this is what alex found in my head if you care, just more glitter honestly
