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Rain wasn’t a common occurrence in Los Angeles, but when it did arrive, it seemed to slow the city to a crawl. For Buck, it was the perfect excuse for a cozy afternoon indoors. He’d convinced Tommy to stay over, and now the two of them were nestled in Buck’s living room.
Tommy stretched out on the couch, a warm throw draped over his legs, while Buck sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the remnants of their makeshift snack session—half-empty mugs of hot cocoa, a tin of cookies, and the faint scent of pine from a flickering candle.
“Did you know,” Buck began, his eyes bright with excitement, “that Christmas wasn’t always about trees and gifts? It’s this mash-up of old traditions. The Romans had Saturnalia, where they’d party for days and exchange presents. And the Germans were the ones who started bringing trees inside to decorate.”
Tommy leaned back against the cushions, his expression amused. “So what you’re saying is, we owe our Christmas tree to ancient Germans and a holiday frat party?”
Buck grinned. “Pretty much. Oh, and get this—Santa coming down the chimney? That comes from European folklore. People used to believe household spirits lived in chimneys. Santa just kind of… inherited the role.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting Buck’s words wash over him. It was rare to see someone so endlessly fascinated by the little things. The soft patter of rain against the windows and Buck’s enthusiastic voice filled the space with a comforting warmth.
“And ‘Jingle Bells’?” Buck continued, clearly in his element. “It was written for Thanksgiving, not Christmas. It’s about sleigh races, not holiday cheer. We’ve been singing it for the wrong holiday this whole time.”
“Thanksgiving?” Tommy asked, his smirk growing. “So we’ve been celebrating sleigh races during Christmas for decades?”
“Exactly!” Buck nodded, popping a cookie into his mouth. “Oh, and mistletoe—did you know it’s a parasite? It grows on trees and steals their nutrients. Super romantic, right?”
Tommy laughed, shaking his head. “Only you could make Christmas both festive and slightly creepy.”
Buck grinned at the reaction, but before he could launch into another fact, Tommy’s hand reached out, his fingers tangling gently in Buck’s curls. His touch was soft, almost absentminded, but the look on Tommy’s face wasn’t. His attention was solely on Buck, his expression full of affection and warmth as he toyed with the golden strands.
“You know,” Buck continued, his voice softening under Tommy’s attention, “the tradition of Christmas stockings comes from a legend about Saint Nicholas. The story goes, he secretly threw gold coins into the stockings of three sisters to save them from a bad fate. People have been hanging stockings ever since—though, I wouldn’t mind finding gold in mine.”
Tommy chuckled, his thumb brushing gently over Buck’s temple. “Gold, huh? I’ll see what I can do. You’ve definitely earned something after this lesson.”
Buck blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity in Tommy’s gaze. “Oh. Sorry, am I rambling?”
Tommy shook his head, his tone softer now. “No. I like listening to you, Evan.”
The sincerity in Tommy’s voice made Buck’s cheeks flush faintly. “Well… thanks. I just really love Christmas. It makes everything feel brighter, you know? Well, at least now that I've got you to share it with.”
Tommy gave Buck a soft kiss before he leaned back again, his hand still gliding lazily through Buck’s hair. “Yeah, I know. And for what it’s worth, you make things brighter too. Even on days like this.”
Buck ducked his head, suddenly shy. “You’re just saying that because I’ve been feeding you cookies.”
“Maybe,” Tommy replied with a smirk. “But don’t stop. The cookies and the facts are kind of growing on me.”
Outside, the rain continued to fall, steady and soothing. Inside, Buck’s voice filled the room with warmth and laughter, and Tommy couldn’t remember the last time a rainy day had felt this good.