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For the second year in a row, Isobel takes Christmas off. Unfortunately, the only other day she's given is Christmas Eve, and it’s decided that flying out to stay with Maggie’s family isn’t worth the expenses or little time they’ll have. Still, it’s somewhat disappointing, when Isobel has been looking forward to it, but Maggie is quick to make her forget about the feeling.
After all, as she points out, this is their first Christmas together as a real couple. Perhaps it’s better that they spend it alone, and although Isobel is woefully under-prepared on account of never celebrating, that only seems to delight Maggie. On the first day of December, she ushers Isobel into the car without explanation and drives them upstate.
It isn’t until an hour later that she discovers why, when they're passing a large field of fir trees and she’s staring down the sign for a Christmas Tree Farm. Part of Isobel had thought these places were made up for Hallmark movies, and she's still not entirely convinced otherwise even when they’re getting out of the car.
“This’ll be your first Christmas tree in a long time, right?” Maggie says, taking her hand as they approach the entrance. “So, it has to be a real one.” Not only does she think Isobel deserves to experience it at least once, but she also wants to share it with her. “Luckily for you, I’m a Christmas tree expert.”
Isobel laughs under her breath. “Then I’ll be sure to trust your professional opinion,” she says, and although she’s teasing, she does mean it in earnest. Maggie will certainly know more about the ideal tree than she does. Aside from some being taller than others, they all mostly look the same to her as they venture between the rows. She isn’t sure if Maggie’s waiting for her to show interest in a specific tree or simply doesn’t think any so far have been good enough.
“What about this one?” she suggests after they’ve been walking for ten minutes, stopping in front of a tree that seems to have a more defined shape than the others. She thinks it’s short enough to fit in her lounge, but Maggie is much more scrupulous in her examination, walking all the way around the tree – twice, to Isobel’s amusement. She stops beside her again, then reaches out to hit one of the branches downwards, knocking loose a cluster of pine needles. Isobel would’ve thought that was to be expected, but it’s a deal-breaker for Maggie.
“Not this one,” she says, taking Isobel’s hand. “We’ll find a healthier one that looks similar.” Isobel nods, and they continue down the row. Even though the concept of a Christmas Tree Farm is still a little surreal to her, there’s certainly a pleasant whimsy to walking through one with Maggie to help keep her warm from the cold. Needless to say, it beats spending her Sunday on paperwork.
Maggie disapproves of two more trees before they find one that doesn’t shed so much when she tests the branches and needles. Isobel thinks it maybe looks a little better than the previous ones. “You’re taking this very seriously,” she observes, watching as Maggie starts to circle the tree a third time, clearly nitpicking.
“Well, since it’s for you, it has to be perfect,” she explains, crouching down to see how far from the ground the lowest branches hang. Isobel affectionately rolls her eyes but doesn’t point out that there’s beauty in the imperfections – Maggie already knows that, but experience tells Isobel that she can’t dissuade her when she’s clearly on a mission.
Still, if she examines that tree branch any closer, it’s going to poke her eye out. It's almost a relief when she stands up again a minute later, rejoining Isobel on the path. “Does it have your approval?” Isobel asks, smiling across at her.
“Hm, it's good enough,” Maggie decides after a moment, making her laugh. Isobel doesn’t think any tree in this place is going to completely satisfy her, letting Maggie guide her a few feet away. “This shouldn’t take very long.” Isobel watches her return to their chosen tree, both hands gripping the axe that one of the workers had given her earlier.
It’s obvious she’s done this plenty of times before, almost making it look easy as she starts to chop away at the base of the trunk, and Isobel finds she can’t help but stare at her, head tilting to one side. There’s something about the way Maggie’s arms flex, even under her thick, winter coat, her confident stance, her furrowed look of concentration, the faint flush across her face. Isobel never would’ve guessed she’d find her cutting down a tree so attractive, but, well, this is Maggie.
As expected, it only takes her a few minutes, although Isobel isn’t exactly paying attention to the time, watching as the tree finally falls over and Maggie looks back at her with a grin. “See? Piece of cake,” she says brightly, stepping around the branches to reach her. “Now we just have to take it up front.” She holds her axe out to Isobel, who gingerly takes it in both hands – she’s expecting Maggie to half-drag the tree along behind them, but to her surprise, she singlehandedly manages to lift it onto her shoulder instead.
Isobel thinks she goes a little slack jawed, distantly wanting to be thrown over Maggie’s shoulder the same way as they follow the path back towards the entrance of the farm. She isn’t entirely surprised that the tree costs them just over $100, nor when Maggie stops her from trying to pull her purse out and at least pay half.
Isobel begrudgingly lets her cover the entire cost, watching as the workers wrap their tree in netting, and only then does it occur to her that they’re going to have to tie that thing to the roof of the car. They’ll certainly be a sight driving through Chelsea.
“I’m sorry I’m not much help,” she says, as Maggie secures the tree in place once they’re back in the parking lot. She feels bad for essentially just standing around while Maggie has done all the work, even if she is better suited to the physical labor and doesn’t seem to mind.
“Don’t be silly, you’ve done plenty,” she insists right on cue, looking back at Isobel when she finishes tightening the rope around the middle of the tree. “I need something pretty to look at, don’t I?” Isobel sighs, shaking her head with a fond smile – just as always, Maggie manages to immediately make her feel better.
When she finishes firmly attaching the tree to the roof, Isobel rewards her with a brief kiss before they finally get out of the cold. A part of her worries about the tree managing to come loose, even as Maggie avoids the highway and reassures her at least three separate times that she’s never had it happen yet. To her credit and Isobel’s relief, it is still fastened tightly in place when they get back to the brownstone, and she goes to make them both a coffee as Maggie gets it down.
It isn't until the tree is moved into her lounge and leaning against the wall that she questions how they’ll stand it up, wondering if she has a big enough plant pot in her garden shed, but Maggie has prepared in advance. She disappears and reappears with a stand designed for this exact use, setting it in the center of the circular rug they’ve laid out in the corner. Somehow, the tree seems taller now that it’s inside, leaving just enough room for a star at the top.
“Perhaps we should get a real tree every year,” Isobel muses as Maggie steps back beside her, finally content with how it looks. It had been a nice reprieve, going to pick one out together. Isobel would certainly be happy to do it again, but even aside from that... “Seeing you with that axe did something to me.”
“Maybe we should get it out of your system,” Maggie suggests, already winding her arms around Isobel’s waist, pulling them together. Isobel hums thoughtfully, pretending to consider it, having immediately forgotten about any proposed plan to go out and buy decorations. Maggie nuzzles at the curve of her neck – the first sign of impatience. “Please?”
“You act like I deprive you,” Isobel teases, but they both know that’s far from the case. Maggie can’t resist the urge to touch her at any given moment – a lingering kiss, a hand in her hair, their bodies brushing – and Isobel wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Isobel,” Maggie whines softly, running her hands under the hem of Isobel’s sweater, fingers ghosting across her waist. Isobel sighs, leaning back into her.
“Estás tan necesitada, cariño,” she murmurs, taking Maggie’s hand before it can wander any lower. She turns, met with a familiar wanting look that she knows will never stop making her come undone, and guides Maggie towards the door. “Come on, have it your way.”
In the end, they don’t have the time to shop for Christmas decorations. They decide to go the following day after work instead, but as Isobel learns, Maggie has already bought one thing ahead of time. It’s mid-morning when they’re in her office with OA and Jubal, as she discusses the plan on how to proceed with their current case.
Much like always, they’re mostly drawn only to each other – Maggie's attention remains fixated on Isobel even when one of the other two speaks, and Isobel has to remind herself that she’s addressing all of them and not just the person she trusts most in the room. When she finally dismisses them, Jubal is quick to leave, already by the door, but OA hesitates when Maggie doesn’t immediately follow, glancing over at her before heading out.
The second Isobel’s left alone with her, Maggie moves closer – not that she was far to begin with. For a moment, Isobel thinks she has a question or some plan that perhaps nobody else would approve of, at least not the way Isobel always does, but then Maggie stops directly in front of her and reaches into her back pocket.
She barely catches a glimpse of the mistletoe before Maggie leans forward and kisses her. It regrettably lasts nowhere near as long as it seems to in Isobel’s head, and when she pulls away, Maggie breathes a laugh at the surprised look on her face, as if they’ve never kissed before. She turns to leave without a word, returning the mistletoe to her back pocket, but it’s not the last Isobel sees of it during their shift.
Whenever it’s just the two of them, out of sight amidst it all, Maggie is quick to do the same again. She kisses Isobel’s cheek, the corner of her mouth, the bridge of her nose, and yet Isobel never gets bored of it, left with a smile every time. While others might consider it overly saccharine, she only finds it endearing – she has wanted all her life to be loved so unequivocally, and Maggie is unwavering in fulfilling that wish. Isobel wouldn’t dream of stopping her.
“Are you planning to catch me under the mistletoe for all of December?” she asks when they’re leaving at the end of the day, the elevator doors closing behind them after Maggie has kissed her for what must be the twentieth time – Isobel has lost count.
For a moment, Maggie looks thoughtful before reaching out to loop her forefinger through Isobel’s familiar necklace, the one she’s worn almost religiously since last year, carefully freeing it from her collar. "So long as you keep wearing my necklace,” she answers, running her finger along the chain to the north star charm at the center, tugging gently before she lets go. “We owe our first kiss to standing under mistletoe.”
Isobel smiles softly. “As if I could ever forget,” she says, taking Maggie’s hand. That kiss had rendered her incapable of a single coherent thought for hours, and it hadn’t helped that it was all she’d thought she would ever get. Now, she can kiss Maggie whenever she wants, but their first will always have a special place in her heart.
Their shopping experience is less crowded than she expects, letting Maggie pull her from one store to the other, not entirely unlike the last time they were at a mall during the holidays. This one has a fountain on the ground floor, too, but Isobel doesn’t need to make any Christmas wishes wanting their relationship to be real this time.
She’s almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of options when it comes to decorations, presented with shelf after shelf filled with ornaments and tinsel and everything in between. She’s certainly more than happy to leave the bulk of the decision-making to Maggie, who at least seems to have some idea of what she's looking for, though there are a few things that catch Isobel’s eye.
“These are pretty,” she says, picking up a box of string lights shaped like stars. She thinks they’d look perfect both on the tree or in one of the windows.
“Then let’s get three,” Maggie decides, taking two more and adding them to the basket she’s carrying. There’s only a box of sky-blue baubles already in there, but this is the third store they’ve been in, and she’s been choosing a few things from each, a bag hanging from the crook of her other arm. They don’t buy much else from this one, but Maggie gets sidetracked twice as they leave, once by a potential gift for her sister, and then by the shop next door.
There’s a display of jewelry in the window, and although Maggie doesn’t say anything as she stares at it, Isobel suspects she’s the one in mind, patiently waiting for her to lead them somewhere else. Tinsel is her next target, and Isobel immediately finds her vision assaulted by a hundred different colors as they walk down an aisle of it in the next store.
Maggie at least doesn’t go for any of the neon or other garish options. "How’s this?” she asks, holding up a long string of thick, gold tinsel.
“It’ll look perfect with silver,” Isobel answers, scanning the shelf for that exact color. It might be a basic combination, but she likes the contrast. Some red would look nice, too. She finds a darker shade of it that matches the volume of their gold and silver, raising an eyebrow at the hot pink display of tinsel to its left. “What exactly makes tinsel luxury?” Quality wise, it doesn’t look any different to the rest.
“Probably nothing,” Maggie admits, trying to neatly fit all their tinsel into the shopping basket. “Or at least nothing worth the price difference. I imagine it’s mostly just for people with more money than sense.” Isobel thinks she’s most likely right.
By the time they leave the mall, they have five shopping bags of decorations between them, and Isobel certainly isn’t unprepared anymore, but before her brownstone can undergo its festive makeover, Maggie reminds her that she needs to eat.
“I know you skipped lunch,” she reveals as they set their bags down a few feet from the Christmas tree. “I’m not letting you skip dinner, too.” Isobel scowls slightly, scrunching her nose. Somehow, she thought she’d managed to escape Maggie’s detection this time, as if that’s ever happened before. Since it's already getting late, she decides to make something quick and easy – cheese quesadillas, which Maggie immediately eats five of.
She’s already taking out their decorations when Isobel finally finishes hers, coming back from the kitchen. “So, is there a method to this?” she asks, standing over her as she unravels the colors of tinsel from each other. The last time Isobel remembers decorating a tree, she was just a kid, and her mom had done most of the work. After she died, Isobel never truly celebrated Christmas again, and barely at all in the last decade. It’s very much a thing of her childhood.
Well, until now. Maggie has always been that barely of celebration, handing her a present without fail every year and giving her a reason to give a gift of her own. Going to Indiana with her was the first time Isobel had been able to relive the joy and warmth that this time of year used to bring her. It had felt like home, and so does this.
“Not really,” Maggie says, passing her the strand of silver tinsel. “I usually start with tinsel because it covers the most, and then you can fill in the leftover space with ornaments.”
“That would be a method,” Isobel points out, watching her stand up with the gold tinsel in hand. She immediately scowls.
“Smartass,” she remarks, approaching the tree as Isobel laughs behind her. They start on opposite sides and move in the same direction, weaving the tinsel through the branches at different heights and following each other’s paths. Then, Maggie moves on to unraveling two boxes of their lights as Isobel adds the deep red tinsel along the bottom of the tree, leaving plenty of room for all the other ornaments they bought.
Maggie passes her a string of lights, and they do the same as before, following each other around the tree, curling the little stars higher and higher through the branches and between the tinsel. They’re just as perfect as Isobel had pictured when picking them up, and they’ll only look better once switched on.
“Do you want to add the baubles or the assorted ornaments?” Maggie asks, reappearing from behind the tree.
“Hm. Surprise me,” Isobel decides, watching her unearth both boxes from the bag. Maggie barely even considers her decision, almost immediately handing her the assorted ones – little plastic gingerbread people, reindeer and snowflakes.
“It’s your first real tree,” she tells her, already starting to pull open her own box. “You should have the cute ones.” She's distracted with pulling out a bauble when Isobel leans over and kisses the corner of her mouth, and she immediately starts smiling like an idiot as they go back to decorating.
It’s a little more relaxing than Isobel had expected, almost dancing around each other as they fill in the leftover space, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Maggie is sure to sneak in a kiss of her own. When their boxes soon run empty, that leaves only two slightly bigger ornaments left to add – a rocking horse and an angel, although their names aren’t attached to these ones. Maggie hangs hers front and center, as predicted, and Isobel places hers right beside it, close enough for them to brush each other, but only when she steps back to take in their work does she realize they’re missing a crucial detail.
“Oh, we didn’t get something for the top,” she points out, staring up at the tree’s very noticeably empty crown. They must have passed through a hundred different options during their shopping trip, but never did it occur to her to pick one.
“Actually...” Maggie suddenly turns, heading towards the hall, and doesn’t say anything else before Isobel watches her disappear, raising an eyebrow. She shakes her head in amusement and returns her attention to the tree, reaching out to adjust the tinsel.
It doesn’t take long for Maggie to reappear, though she has her hands behind her back when Isobel faces her. She tilts her head, curious. “What are you hiding?”
With an almost unusual level of care for her, Maggie moves her hands into view again, and with them – a gold, eight-point star that shimmers in the light, not unlike the one hanging from the necklace against Isobel’s collar. “For the only north star I need,” Maggie says, echoing her words from last Christmas as she holds it out, but for a long moment, all Isobel can do is stare. It’s gorgeous and clearly wasn’t cheap – thank you is nowhere near enough.
She closes the gap between them just to pull Maggie into a kiss, cradling the underside of her jaw. As always, she melts at Isobel’s touch, clutching the star against her chest just to get closer to her, and her face immediately softens into a stupid, lovesick smile when they break apart. “Luz de mi vida,” Isobel murmurs, kissing the bridge of her nose for good measure before gently taking the star into her own hands.
She turns back to the tree, and Maggie moves to grab the stepladder she carried in earlier, as if waiting for this moment the entire time. She sets it at the base of the tree and holds her hand out, helping Isobel up to the second step. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall,” she promises, holding onto Isobel’s waist.
Isobel has no doubt it’s true, trusting that Maggie will catch her if she does, but... "I watched you drop OA during a group trust exercise,” she teases, reaching up to carefully add the star.
Maggie scowls, a little surprised she remembers that. “He deserved it,” she reveals, confirming Isobel’s long suspicion that she did it on purpose. “He was mocking me for being disappointed that Scola was your partner.” It’s not as if she and Isobel have ever needed a trust exercise, when they've always known they can rely on each other when it matters most, but it would have made the entire exercise more enjoyable than doing it with OA for the hundredth time. Still, it had done wonders for her ego to watch Isobel be unable to fall back for Scola.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, the feeling was mutual,” Isobel tells her, narrowing her eyes slightly as she scrutinizes the star’s position, reaching out again to adjust it. Scola was the second worst person she could’ve been partnered with. It isn’t so much that she doesn’t trust him as it is that she doesn’t trust his ability to pay enough attention. Maggie is the only one of them that she wouldn’t have hesitated to fall back for.
“It does, actually,” Maggie says, helping her down when she decides she’s happy with the star’s position. Once she's on solid ground again, Isobel kneels to switch on the lights while Maggie folds up the stepladder, moving it out of the way, and she immediately takes Isobel’s hand when she stands up and steps back to join her.
“It’s perfect,” Isobel marvels softly, the little star-shaped lights reflecting in her eyes. Certainly, that perfection is about more than just the aesthetics or the way the colors complement each other. This tree was born from love and care – Maggie taking her to the Christmas tree farm, leading her around the mall, buying a meaningful star for the finishing touch. It’s far more than anyone else has ever bothered with when it comes to Isobel, and Maggie did it simply to make her happy.
“I think it’s the best tree I’ve ever seen,” Maggie agrees, glad that Isobel loves it more than anything. She deserves to have her first tree in God knows how long be perfect.
“You do?” Isobel asks, glancing over at her. She knows Maggie wouldn’t say as much if it weren’t true, but the Bells had a beautiful tree when they were there last year, and Isobel can only imagine all the ones that came before it weren’t much different.
“Of course,” Maggie insists, eyes meeting hers. “I decorated it with you.” Although it’s far from the first time Maggie has said something similar, Isobel’s heart still melts hopelessly in an instant.
“Sweet talker,” she murmurs, shoving her gently with her shoulder.
Maggie only laughs, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “Love you, too, Iz,” she says, pressing a kiss to the edge of her jaw. She suspects neither of them would’ve guessed a Christmas tree could be so important, but that's certainly changed with theirs.