Archive of Our Own

"There you are." Nick's voice is hushed as he slides into the pew next to James. The air is hushed in the empty church, redolent with incense, heavy with a strange sense of waiting for something to happen.

"Hi," James says quietly.

"I couldn't find you. I was starting to worry."

"I'm sorry," James says, and his shoulders start to curl in on themselves.

"Aren't you going to ask how I found you?"

"Find My Friends?"

Nick smiles softly. "You noticed that the gps activated on your phone."

"I can't believe it took you all afternoon to remember the app even existed." The smile quirks up the corner of James's mouth, though he still faces front. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, staring almost without seeing at the mounds of greenery and the golden ribbon decorating the altar, and folds his hands together between his knees.

"On the whole, I don't spend a lot of time spying on where you are." Nick starts to reach out toward him but pulls back at the last moment, remembering their location. It doesn't feel right to touch his boyfriend in a church, even after all these years without faith or practise. "I'm surprised to find you here, though."

"Why?"

Nick thinks about that. "I…don't know, actually. I guess I can understand, now I think about it a little more." He settles in and stretches his arms along the pew back. "What are you thinking about?'

James shrugs.

"You don't say," Nick murmurs.

They sit in silence for a while, thinking.

"I haven't done this in ages," Nick says.

"Sat in church?"

"Mmmhmm. It's…peaceful."

"It is."

"One could get a lot of thinking done here."

"I'm remembering when I was in the seminary."

"Well, this is the place for it."

"At Christmas. It was…"

Nick waits for James to suss out where that sentence is going.

"I'm going to tell you this, and I'm going to disappoint you," James says eventually.

"I doubt it."

"You're already disappointed in me."

Nick blinks. "No. I'm not. What are you talking about?"

"Yes you are. You probably adore Christmas, all the food and the decorations and festive jollity. It's right up your street. I'm disappointing you because I ought to be excited for it, since it's our first Christmas together, but the past is reaching forward to strangle the present and…what?"

Nick's hand is pressed firmly over his mouth to stifle his relieved giggles. They'd begun to compound on each other, giggle upon giggle, and now Nick is slumped against James's shoulder and laughing fully and silently, his whole body shaking. James just stares at him, his own troubles forgotten in the face of this fit.

"What?" James asks again, and is helpless to suppress the corner of his mouth from quirking up.

"Are you…" Nick gasps in between laughter. "Are you trying to tell me that I'm going to be sad that you don't enjoy Christmas either?"

"Either?"

"James." Nick laughs a few moments more until it peters out in a string of weak giggles. "James," he pants, "it is not the most wonderful time of the year." James just looks at him. Nick sits up straighter until he's not propped against him anymore, and takes a deep, shuddering breath to recentre himself. "Well, that's hilarious. Is this why you've been so touchy recently? You don't want me to find out that Christmas is a constant stream of…miserable memories and rueful rememberances?"

"And haunting habits?" James says, finally starting to smile.

"Love, my childhood wasn't really something to celebrate either. I've tried to move on, but every year it's the same food and decorations that remind me of things I'd rather not think about, so it's…" Nick laughs in relief and scrubs his hand over his face. "I was so worried."

"That…?"

"For the same reason you were worried."

"Neither of us enjoy Christmas."

"I like the gifts."

"Well, of course."

"And the tree. But that's about it."

"The rest of it is…fraught."

"Or depressing."

"I always feel like I ought to be happy during the Christmas season," James says. "It was a rather striking contrast to those around me when I was at seminary."

"I bet so."

"I…went out a lot. Did more than my share of pastoral duties."

"I'm unsurprised."

"I usually work as much as possible, in recent years. I take people's shifts so they can go have fun and I can be busy."

Nick swallows. "Did you want to do that this year?" He represses the urge to take James's hand.

"I don't know," James murmurs. "I don't think I should. And what I want is to be with you."

"But not with Christmas."

"No."

"Well," Nick sighs. "I want to spend time with you. I always want to spend time with you. But if we can leave the trappings of Christmas outside, that would be…appreciated."

"Just another day? But with gifts?"

"Please."

"Okay," James says, and rubs his palms on the top of his thighs a few times before standing. "Come on. I want to hug you, and the thought of doing it in here is…irrationally unsettling."

"Old habits die hard."

"Old excoriations die hard."

"That too."

A week passes, and it's better than the previous two by a long margin. There had been tension between them, the worry on both sides throwing their balance off, keeping them just slightly apart, but the relief has left them a bit emotionally weak-kneed and clinging.

N: So it turns out I'm finished with work at 2, and then I have some errands to do. I'll be at yours at 6?

J: That sounds great. Bring clothes for three days.

N: You don't have to work?

J: I took some time off.

N: I thought we weren't treating Christmas like anything special. Same as any day.

J: Is this the part where I say any day I spend with you is special?

N: Depends. Is this the part where I say that is a good answer, and in reward perhaps I'll consider not bringing any clothes at all?

J: I would not complain.

N: I didn't think you would. :) What did you want to do for supper?

J: I'll take care of it.

N: Seriously?

J: Oh stop. I did manage to feed myself before you were around.

N: I sometimes forget this fact.

J: You're hilarious.

N: Yes I know. :) See you at 6.

Come a quarter past, Nick stands outside James's door, straining to hear what he's listening to inside. Is that…what is that? A sitar? No, it's something Middle Eastern, not Indian. And what is that smell? He knocks, and James opens the door almost immediately.

"What are you doing in th—" The words stopper in Nick's throat. James's bright, usually-neat flat is…well, it looks like another world entirely.

The shades are closed to the streetlamps, and the room is lit by lamps draped with filmy, multicoloured silk scarves, which cast the room with a jewelled glow. There's a haze of incense hanging in the air which smells woodsy and spicy, completely unlike the incense of a church, and it reminds Nick somehow of Morocco and Pakistani markets and natural food co-ops. A bright, amethyst-coloured hookah sits temptingly on the floor in front of the sofa. On every surface Nick can see, James has placed some small Eastern sculpture or textile, or a tiny tea candle flickering in the draft from the door, and the resultant effect is like stepping into a magical bejewelled box from a mixed-up fairy story.

Then Nick turns and there, glittering in the corner of the room, is a large pot plant that looks suspiciously like a very small palm tree. It's draped with a net of white fairy lights.

Nick takes several steps into the room, sets down his bags, and looks around in awe. "What did you do?"

"Welcome to the Feast of the Magi," James says shyly.

"Isn't that supposed to be the Epiphany?" Nick says, running his fingertips over a row of Indian elephant statuettes gracing the top of the bookshelf. They're chained together with trunks curled around tails, and the tea candles on their backs cause the fake crystals down their sides to shift with colour.

"Traditionally, yes," James says, then he adds quietly, "But I think we should make our own Christmas traditions."

Nick turns to look at him. The dear man is standing shyly in the middle of his handwork looking braced for a blow. As if anyone could reject this. It's weird and wonderful and possibly the most loving thing Nick has ever experienced. It takes Nick's breath away.

"You did all this so we could celebrate Christmas together?"

James closes the door quietly and steps up close to Nick. He presses his forehead to Nick's temple and sighs, and Nick can't help sliding his arms around him and holding him close. James murmurs, "You deserve something special, now and in the future, even if the past is shit."

Nick loves him so much it hurts. Maybe it's finally time to tell him so. "Why the Magi?" he asks instead, still not easing up on the hug.

"At first I was just thinking about food people don't usually eat at Christmas," James explains sheepishly. "But that thought process led to the Middle East, then to Bethlehem, then to the fact that a lot of the traditions that bother us are the Victorian ones. So I wanted to go back to the start, to the Nativity."

"The Magi."

James nods. "I know they wouldn't have been there yet, but I thought it would be fun to justify a different theme with something seasonal nonetheless. Magus, magos. Mage."

"Magician," Nick whispers. I love you.

The moment is punctuated by the always-romantic sound of James's stomach rumbling. Nick bursts into giggles, then James does, and they hold on to each other, laughing. Nick nuzzles his face against James's neck. "You've been organising a meal, but you haven't eaten anything?"

"I've organised four meals."

Nick pulls back to look at him. "Four?"

"Bethlehem, Persia, Arabia, India."

"Jesus and the three Magi."

James nods. "Israeli, Persian, Lebanese, Indian. Because that's what worked best for this setup."

"How long have you been planning this?"

"A week. Just after we spoke at the church."

"You're good at surprises."

James presses his forehead to Nick's temple again and hugs him, but doesn't say anything. Nick hugs him again in return. Nick's eyes open slightly and he sees a brass-and-copper dromedary incense holder placed carefully on top of a mirrored Indian tapestry, and that sight triggers a powerful flood of realisation; James loves him back. Without a doubt. He must. He's gone through all this trouble, buying decorations and food and planning for a week, just to have something nice to share with Nick on Christmas. To tell James he loves him, to actually say the words aloud, wouldn't be…risky. Would it? Why is the thought of saying it so goddamn terrifying?

When James's stomach rumbles again, Nick swallows down his worry to chuckle and pull him further into the room. "Come on, Magician. Let's see about supper."

They walk further into the sitting room, then James stops and gestures expansively. When he speaks it's as if he's channelling generations of circus ringmasters and stage illusionists. "Tonight, people all over the world are attending Christmas parties with finger foods and vols-au-vent, standing around in their finest and making horrid small talk with colleagues and strangers. We, on the other hand, are going to sit in our pyjamas, be considerably more than colleagues or strangers, eat Israeli starters, and talk about whatever the hell we wish."

Nick grins evilly. "No neckties?"

"Only if you've been a very good boy this year," James smoulders at him.

"Have I?"

"Mmmmmaybe."

"As long as it's not the horrid floral one."

James steps in close and rumbles into Nick's ear, letting his lips graze the skin. "I'll wear whichever tie I desire, and you'll like it, and be thankful."

Nick sucks in a breath and he has to grab on to James's shirt as he's rocked by a shiver. "F-f-f—" Hnngh. "Yes sir."

"Good." James presses a kiss to Nick's cheek and steps back.

Nick shivers. "Bastard," he says, grinning madly.

"Come on." James rests his hand between Nick's shoulderblades and steers him toward the coffee table. They sit on the pillows alongside it as James uncovers dish after dish of food.

"How did you manage all this?" Nick asks. It's an impressive spread.

"Some of it is takeaway from Tapuzim. Some is from Sainsbury's. And some I actually managed myself, thank-you-very-much."

"Are those falafel? They're the tiniest I've ever seen."

"I asked them to make them small. So they'd fit in the quartered pita with everything else."

"Hummus…baba ganoush?" Nick looks at James for confirmation.

He nods and points to the dishes. "Burekas, roasted garlic goat cheese, tahina, fried goat cheese—"

"—and lemon wedges. Pickeled gherkin. Salad, oranges, tomatoes, cucumber…James, this is fantastic."

At this, a bit of bashfulness crosses James's face. "Worthy of Christmas Eve?"

"Worthy of—Of course it is." Nick leans over and kisses him. I love you. Say it. "You didn't have to do this at all, you know."

"I wanted us to have something special," James says softly, and kisses Nick back.

After supper, James curses.

"Did you burn yourself again?" Nick's voice calls from the kitchen.

"…No."

"Yes, then."

"…Yes."

"You're supposed to light the charcoal, not the human."

"Oh is that how it's supposed to work."

"Did you want to switch with me?"

"If I'm burning myself with a lighter, and I use a lighter all the time, how likely do you think it is that I'll burn myself on hot oil while frying doughnuts?"

"…Good point well-made."

"Just finish our dessert, hmm? And stop judging me."

"Get the shisha lit and maybe I wi—"

"HA."

"Ooh. Is that the sound of success?" Nick comes around from inside the kitchen, wiping his hands on his jeans. James is blowing gently on a wafer of charcoal held daintily in a tiny pair of tongs, a bit of black slowly being consumed by a red glow. "Niiice."

James places the coal on top of the foil-wrapped cone and starts sucking on one of the long, hose-like mouthpieces that snakes out from the centre of the hookah. He makes a shooing gesture at Nick as the water in the bottom of the device bubbles. "Okay, okay," Nick says, grinning, and goes back to finishing their dessert.

It's not ten minutes later that they're settled down with their backs against the sofa, passing the mouthpiece between them and ploughing through a plate of Israeli-style doughnuts, hot and covered in icing sugar.

"I don't think I've had shisha in five years," Nick says.

"I've never had it before."

"You did a good job setting this up, then."

"The man at the tobacconist's shop showed me."

"Did you pick up other flavours?"

James snags a paper sack and pulls it over. "Apple Spice," he says, rummaging through, "Cherry Cordial, aaand…" He pulls out a tin and holds it up with a mischievous grin. "Mar-gar-it-a."

Nick grins back and lazily waves the mouthpiece in the air between them. "So with all that fanciness, why lemon?"

James half-shrugs and tucks the bag back under the coffee table. "I thought it would pair best with our meal."

"Okay," Nick says, pressing a kiss to James's cheek. "That's an excellent reason."

They fall quiet for a little while, eating and smoking, and Nick settles sideways to lean his shoulder against James's.

"Is this a good Christmas Eve tradition?" James asks him softly.

"I don't remember having a better one," Nick replies. "Thank you for it." I love you.

Nick wakes to the sensation of James's breath tickling the small hairs on his temple and the warmth of lips on his earlobe. "Ngh."

"Good morning, Nicholas Mouse."

"'M not a mouse, go away."

"You're the Mouse King."

"No 'm not, go away."

"Wake uuup, little Mouse King."

"Stab you with my sword."

"Does that mean I'm the Nutcracker Prince?"

"Mmmhmm." Nick rolls to his side and tries to pull the duvet further around him.

"Do you want to enact a homoerotic Nutcracker Ballet as part of the new Christmas traditions?"

"Sleeping."

"Nn-hnn." James clambers over Nick's body and straddles his right hip, going onto all fours over him and nuzzling at Nick's cheek. The metal earpiece on his glasses is annoyingly cold against Nick's sleep-warm skin. "Waking. Lots to do today."

Nick mumbles, "We have nothing to do today."

"Incorrect."

"What, then," Nick asks, starting to wake against his will.

"Food. Presents. Sex. Repeat."

"In that order?"

"In whatever order you want." James sways his hips left and right, rocking Nick's body in between his thighs.

"Is this a hint that sex should lead off the festivities?"

"Mmmmm…" James rumbles into Nick's ear. "Well, now you mention it…"

"Heaven forfend I leave you to languish with an erection while I sleep."

James snorts. "You can't tell me you aren't hard right this second."

"That's beside the point," Nick says, too sleepy to sound as petulant as he'd have wished.

"I know your body by now," James says in his most seductive tone, rumbling low and directly into Nick's ear, "I know how to arouse you in the morning."

"What, by just…being in bed with me?" Nick squints his eyes open.

"Don't ruin my secret."

Nick laughs and gives in. He rolls onto his back again and pulls James down on top of him. James grinds their hips together and they both gasp. "Good morning," Nick says as he stretches his neck back and lets his eyelids flutter closed.

"Happy Christmas," James corrects roughly, sliding his hand between them to wrap his fingers around both of them together.

"Nnngh. Happy Christmas," Nick says, and he rolls his hips.

After they both come, panting and moaning into each others' mouths, Nick shifts underneath James and pulls a face. "I need to clean up."

"Easily done," James says, and rolls sideways just enough to lean over the side of the bed and come back with a wet towel.

Nick giggles sleepily. "So you knew I'd give in."

"Of course," James says with a small smile, and cleans them off. "I'm irresistible to you." He drops the towel back over the side of the bed when he's finished and snuggles back down along Nick's side, his knee hitched over Nick's.

Nick lazily strokes James's back as they both melt into the mattress. "I've thought of a new tradition," he murmurs.

"Mm?"

"Sex, and then going back to sleep."

James follows up this statement with a yawn, which makes both of them giggle.

"Seconded by Sir Hathaway. Resolved," Nick slurs, as they both drop off back into a dozy slumber.

He's awakened once by the sound of the shower, and then again by the smell of coffee. He feels James's weight settling on his side of the bed.

"'Morning," Nick murmurs, and rolls over toward him.

"Good morning again." James brushes Nick's fringe off his forehead and places a kiss there instead. "Coffee?"

"Mmm." Nick struggles up and reclines against the headboard. "Thank you." James makes to hand him the cup, but Nick stops him. "Wait, trade?"

"Trade?" says James as Nick leans over and pulls a brightly-wrapped package out from underneath the bed and hands it to him. "Ah. That was sneaky."

"I wanted to do presents in bed," Nick says with a shy smile. "At least one."

"Let me go get one of yours, then."

"You brought me coffee."

"I brought us both coffee. Let me go get one of yours." James comes back with a gift and places it on the bed beside the other.

"Both at the same time?" Nick suggests.

"Okay," James says quietly.

The tone causes something in Nick's mind to perk up. "What's wrong?"

James gives him a wan smile. "Just nervous."

"Why?" Nick touches James's face lightly.

"I've never done this before."

Ah. Right. Of course not. "Kiss me?" James smiles and leans over for a soft kiss. He lingers there for a moment, still smiling, and Nick can feel his breath and lets himself get caught in the bottle-glass green of his eyes in the soft morning light of the bedroom. I love you. "You know I'll like anything you get me."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"On three, then." They both pull their presents into their laps. "One, two, three."

There's a small frenzy of tearing paper, and a squeak from Nick. "Christopher Lee!"

James chuckles. "I give you the gift of Christopher Lee."

On Nick's lap is a bundle of Hammer Horror DVDs. He looks up from them to James's face, eyes shining. "I don't have any of these!"

"I know," James says, obviously trying to stifle how pleased with himself he is. But in the face of Nick's joy, he can't help grinning. "You should, though."

"And now I do." Nick leans over to kiss James. "What about yours?"

"Silk boxer shorts?" James holds up three pairs, in black, navy, and a claret red.

"Yes." Nick sets his gifts and the wrapping aside and practically crawls into James's lap so he can speak against his lips. "Because you should have something nice to wear under those skinny trousers of yours. And if you've never tried silk boxers before, I think you'll like them. They feel very—" He kisses James. "—Nice." He kisses him again, and smiles lasciviously.

"Is that code for, 'they're going to leave you perpetually half-hard until you get used to them'?"

"Mmmmaybe. Perhaps you should wear them around the house for a while, just to see."

"You are a horrible person."

"No, you should definitely wear them around the house. I think you should wear them them, and nothing else—well, no. Them, and our silk ropes, perhaps, and nothing else. That silk is so thin and soft surely I'd be able to see everything as you lay there in your back in bed, straining at the ropes and against the front of those pants, see you hard and gasping for me to—"

"Oh god please stop," James says, a little slack-jawed. "I'm beginning to suspect you may have bought these more for yourself than for me."

"Oh, they're definitely for you," Nick smirks. "They're just not only for you."

"Horrible."

"Yes." Nick kisses James again, and this time bites his lip, so this time James tilts his head and plunders Nick's mouth for a few moments. They pull apart and grin at each other.

"It's time for breakfast," James says, looking blazingly happy and licking his lips. "Don't sidetrack me. I'm hungry."

"So am I." Nick waggles his eyebrows.

"Stop. You can have second breakfast later."

"Promise?"

James chuckles. "I guarantee it."

Nick follows James out to the lounge, where the coffee table is spread once again with plates and bowls of food. James peels off toward the kitchen immediately.

"Do you need help?" Nick says, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes and stretching.

"Nope." James is right behind him holding a towel-covered basket aloft in his left hand, and slides the fingertips of his right along the strip of skin exposed at Nick's back as his t-shirt rides up with the stretch. He gracefully sets the basket in the centre of the table and folds to the ground. "Tea?"

"I still have my coffee," Nick yawns, and settles down next to him on a cushion.

"Tea is traditional for a Persian breakfast."

"Are you going to have both?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then," Nick says. He smiles at James, who is neatly filling up teacups with black tea, and looks at the assortment of food. It's a simple enough grouping, but James has been up at least long enough to have sliced the cucumbers and washed the tomatoes. "What's in this?" he asks, pointing.

"Sour cherry jam. And next to it is sarshir, and next to that the feta. And the quince jam is over there."

"What's this?" Nick lifts the edge of the towel to peer at what's underneath. It's warm.

"Barbari. Bread."

"It smells amazing."

"It is." James grabs a piece and dallops some sarshir on it, then drizzles honey on top of that.

"You've been sneaking bits all morning, haven't you."

"Absolutely," James says, and his eyes flutter closed when he takes a bite.

Nick wants in on this immediately, so the rest of the breakfast is spent in a feast of experimentation to determine which combination of foods is the best. James eats practically half the feta and quince jam before he stops, and the deliciousness of the sarshir has Nick vowing to eat it more often.

"But then Christmas mornings won't be special," James moans from where he's flopped on the floor, stuffed to the gills.

Nick makes a rude noise. "Christmas morning will always be special because I'm with you. Don't fetishise the food. It's cream, and it's amazing."

James groans and rubs his stomach. "Can we change the subject?"

"I guess that puts paid to the idea of second breakfast," Nick snarks.

"You could ride me," James says without much interest.

"It's the romance, see. It's the romance that keeps me coming back." Nick chuckles and lies down along James's side. "Do you want me to bring over the rest of the presents?"

"I'm not moving anywhere," James says. "But I think we should do just one more set."

"Just one?"

"One after every meal."

Nick grins fondly and gets one gift each, then plops down next to James. "Are you going to sit up for this."

"Yes." He doesn't move.

"…Today?"

"Yes." And with a heave of breath, James sits.

Nick opens up his gift to find a kitchen mandolin ("So you can stop whinging that you should have one." "Is this your version of a gift that's ostensibly for me but is really for you, too?" "My knife skills will never rival a machine's, Nick, so maybe now you'll stop asking me to try harder."), and James unwraps a set of ridiculously-soft track bottoms.

"Am I sensing a theme?" he asks.

"No?" Nick says innocently.

"No." James clearly doesn't believe him.

Nick puts on a fake pout. "I like touching you, okay?"

James cannot stifle the smile. "I suppose it's not so bad for me, either."

"That's m'boy." Nick smirks, and James rolls his eyes, and they decide it's probably time to clean up for the day.

James joins Nick in the shower, so between the giggling and the suds and the handjobs masquerading as unnecessarily-long bouts of scrubbing it's not really a surprise that it's already midmorning by the time they snuggle down on the sofa in front of "Dracula: Prince of Darkness." James falls asleep on Nick's shoulder. Nick decides not to take it as commentary on the film but instead a statement about James's state of relaxation, and when it ends rather than wake him Nick picks up a stray book he finds on the side table and reads for a while about land rights in the middle ages before completely passing out himself.

He wakes with James's weight smashing him half into the sofa and hot breath in his ear. Even with his glasses knocked crooked on his face, it's kind of lovely.

"Mmph," James says when Nick shifts underneath him.

"Hi." He can see the fairy lights over James's shoulder, and it's cozy being pinned partially against the sofa back, warm and sheltered from the rain starting up outside, and Nick feels drugged with happiness. James blinks blearily as we wakes, and he lifts his head and scrunches his face up as he scratches vigorously at an itch on the back of his scalp. Nick's heart turns over in his chest. Christ I love you so much.

"What?" James nestles back down on top of Nick.

"Nothing," Nick murmurs back, but he angles his head to kiss James softly once, then again, feeling contentment roll down his spine. Say it. Say it, you chickenshit bastard. He's not going to do a runner. This is the day. Say it.

Nick just keeps kissing him instead.

James deigns to allow Nick to help prepare lunch.

"It's only because I know you'll whine otherwise."

"I like making food." Nick says, washing tomatoes.

"And I owe you about a hundred meals at this point, so you could at least allow me these three."

Nick gives James a bemused smile and continues to do as he's assigned, slicing cucumber and cutting pita as James heats up the dolma, kibbeh, and batata harra.

It appears James is pacing himself after his overindulgence at breakfast because there are leftovers of nearly everything when they're done, but even he has a second piece of baklava after lunch. Nick is lounging on the sofa licking honey off his fingers when James wanders out of the kitchen, and he follows James eagerly with his eyes as he plops down next to Nick and finishes the dessert off in two bites. When he's finished Nick grabs his hand. With a gleam in his eye, he sucks James's thumb into his mouth and licks the honey off, scraping the pad with his teeth, and James's eyelids go half-lidded as he makes a guttural noise of want in the back of his throat. "Is it time for second…er, lunch?" James says while blinking slowly, entranced, staring at Nick's mouth as Nick diligently sucks and licks the honey off James's index finger.

Nick pulls James's finger out of his mouth with a pop. "Do you want it to be?"

James's eyes open and close languorously. "You're going to wear me out today."

"Is that a problem?" Nick gives him a brilliant smile.

James's smiles fades as he looks at Nick intently, his eyes taking in his smile and eyes and the bit of hair sticking up in back after their nap that Nick can't seem to tame. His expression goes a bit hazy and wistful. "Nick," he murmurs, and the look in his eyes is…stunning. It makes Nick's stomach flip as James leans in and kisses him softly, and Nick is helpless to do anything but melt into it.

He slides his mouth along James's, softly touches their tongues together, and James groans. Nick fists his hands in James's hair and lets the kiss meander leisurely, wet and gentle and quietly passionate, but when it breaks they're both panting, and Nick's heart is hammering in his chest. I love you.

"Nick," James murmurs from inches away, and he traces Nick's mouth with his thumb.

Nick kisses it. "Let's save it," he whispers, and licks residual sweetness from James's thumb.

James's eyes flare with heat briefly before he takes a steadying breath. "Second lunch?"

"Yeah," Nick says with a small, almost-shy smile. "I want us to go to bed early and not leave it until Boxing Day. I wouldn't want either of us to be worn out before then."

James chuckles warmly. "I'm not sure how logistically feasible that plan is."

"Shh."

"Go along with it anyway?"

Nick laughs quietly. "Yes."

James gives him a soft kiss. "What about another set of presents? Is that allowed?"

"Not just allowed. I think it's to be encouraged." Nick grins happily and swallows down his excess emotion. James gets up from the sofa, and as he's walking away Nick smacks him on the arse. James turns to raise an eyebrow at him, and Nick giggles. "Go on."

Bemused, James fetches two rectangular gifts of a nearly-identical size and hands one to Nick. "If we got each other the same gift, I will be highly amused."

"I doubt it," Nick smirks. "I know what I got you, and it's nothing you would ever get me."

"Hmm." James holds the gift to his mouth in a pose of deep thought. "That's intriguing,"

"Do you want to guess first?"

"Yes. No. …No, I get enough of puzzles at… Yes."

Nick laughs and snatches the gift, then hides it behind his back. "Tell me what I got you."

"Paperbacks. That's easy."

"Be more specific."

"Books."

"That's less specific, you twat." Nick swats at him, and James giggles.

"Something I like, and you don't. Paperbacks. Not a standard size. So, non-fiction, maybe? Though that's not a guarantee…"

"Mine are the same size. Does that mean mine aren't or are non-fiction? I'll bet fiction."

James looks amused. "Is this about me or about you?"

Nick peers at him. "Why do you never fall for my sneakiness?"

James laughs at him. "Should I continue?"

"Yes…" Nick says with a slump of faux-disappointment.

James chuckles again and turns his attention back to his book. "I think…something special interest."

"Such as?"

"Linguistic." James thinks. "Psychological. Historical."

Nick laughs. "Very good."

"Is it one of those?"

"Open it and see." Nick presents James with his gift.

Which turns out to be trio of books about retrograde analysis chess puzzles. "The Arabian Nights?" James asks, grinning.

"Great minds," Nick says with a jaunty toss of his head.

"I can't wait to read these," James says, already pouring over one from the middle of a book.

"Hey!" Nick says. "Focus." He waggles his gift in front of James's face. He tears it open to find a small boxed set of mystery novels.

"Feste from Twelfth Night solves crime," James explains. "It seemed to be the perfect thing for you."

Nick's eyes widen. "That's a thing?"

James laughs at him. "Read them and tell me."

Nick gleefully opens the first one from the beginning, and the afternoon disappears as the two men loll about on opposite ends of the sofa, their legs tangling in the middle, reading their third set of Christmas gifts from each other.

In comparison with the other three meals, dinner prep is easy.

James makes rice and reheats the Indian takeaway while Nick insists upon making fresh raita, and they settle on the sofa to eat curry so spicy tears spring to their eyes. They take turns for a while playing each other songs from their phones, and when they're finished eating Nick selects a specific song and stands.

"Ella?" James asks, putting his plate on the coffee table.

"Yes." Nick takes James's hand and pulls him up off the sofa, and smiles in the face of James's confusion. "It's Ella. So dance with me." When James starts making reluctant noises, Nick chuckles. "Am I going to have to convince you every time I do this?"

"Absolutely." But James lets himself be drawn in anyway. Nick strokes his palm down James's shoulder, then feels James pull with his hand on Nick's lower back, tugging them so close their bodies are pressed together as they move. Nick fancies he can feel the flexing of all the muscles in James's torso through their t-shirts, and the sensation is marvellously sensual. He knits the fingers of his right hand up with James's left and pulls their hands in to their chests.

"I thought there wasn't supposed to be Christmas music, Nicholas," James whispers, and grazes his cheek along Nick's.

The moment is getting to him, so it's a little hard to speak through the tightness in his chest, but Nick murmurs back, "This isn't Christmas, it's New Year's."

They sway together for a few moments before James sings quietly along with the song, and the sound goes right into Nick's ear and shoots down to his toes. "What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve…"

Nick shivers. Then he pulls back to let his gaze flick up to meet James's. "Whatever you're doing," he whispers, answering the song, still matching James's movement side to side. "I'm doing whatever you're doing. So what are we doing New Year's Eve, James?"

James gets the same look on his face from earlier, the soft and hazy one, and once again he stares at Nick as if taking in every bit of his face at once. Then his brow furrows and he huffs out a shaky breath.

"What?" Nick murmurs.

Instead of answering, James pulls Nick even closer and catches his mouth in a slow, heartfelt kiss. He sighs through his nose. Nick skates his hand up from James's shoulder to the back of his neck and lets his fingertips scrape the soft bristle at James's hairline, and it makes James shiver and fist his hands in Nick's t-shirt. The music changes over to another Ella song, and the lyrics to "The Man I Love" wind around them as they kiss. As the song plays, the kiss gets deeper and deeper as they clutch and grab and grind against each other with a slow-burning passion that leaves them both shaking.

It all starts to pile up inside Nick's chest—the love song, the dancing, the kiss, all that James's has prepared for them—and abruptly Nick realises that this whole day he's been missing something vitally important; that this holiday James has created, last night included, has been at its very core about forming traditions together. And they've both been talking about their future casually, as if it's a foregone conclusion, without cause for a single second thought.

James hasn't simply done something sweet for Nick because he cares for him. James has taken the time to seriously consider what their future Christmases together should be like. Future Christmases. Future Christmases plural. James…James isn't going anywhere. Even if the idea of forever is still mindblowingly terrifying, and probably is so to both of them, James obviously loves him and isn't planning on ending this for a long time. And Nick already knows with startling clarity how he feels about James.

Nick's heart thunders against his ribs, and he can't breathe. This is it. This is exactly the moment he was waiting for, this stupidly-romantic moment kissing to Ella Fitzgerald while surrounded by the glow of fairy lights on Christmas, and just as the pressure of the love expanding in his chest becomes so painful he doesn't have a chance in hell of keeping it in for one second more, James makes a small noise and breaks off the kiss. He presses his forehead against Nick's temple with an expression of barely-contained agony and stays there for a few moments, panting. Then he whispers, all on one stuttering, pained breath, "Nicholas. I love you so damn much." He exhales a trembling breath and holds Nick in a hug so tight Nick feels his ribs creak.

Nick's brain stops for a several long seconds. Then he exhales heavily, presses his face to the crook of James's neck, and digs his fingertips into James's hips. He manages to nod, just a bit, before whispering. "It hurts."

A humourless laugh bubbles up from James's chest, but he nods too. "I'm not sure it's supposed to." He buries his face against Nick's shoulder and takes a sharp-edged breath.

They stand there for half a minute clutching on in desperation before Nick realises that technically, the admission is still one-sided. He tilts his head slightly to whisper against James's neck. "I love you." He tries to breathe normally, and fails. "God I love you."

For another minute they stand there holding on to each other against the maelstrom, then James slips his hands under the hem of Nick's t-shirt to lay his hands flat against the skin of Nick's back. With all of the hormones already flooding his system, the sensation makes Nick moan, a grating, soul-deep noise that fills the room. It spurs them both to action, and they begin sliding their hands under each other's clothing and along skin, slipping off their tops and skating their palms over every inch, touching everywhere. "I love you," James murmurs again, and that kicks off a steady stream of affirmations from both of them, in between sucking open-mouthed kisses against necks and shoulders and, occasionally, mouths. It's as if now that the dam has broken they can't stop saying it, and it follows them down the hall and all the way onto James's bed.

Nick falls full-length onto it and James crawls on top of him. "Christ I love you," Nick says, arching his back and then rolling his hips up against James's.

James moans against Nick's shoulder and bites down momentarily. "I love you so much," he whimpers over Nick's quick gasp of surprise and slow moan of pleasure.

It takes barely a minute before both sets of pyjama bottoms are on the floor and they're writhing blissfully against each other. Nick pulls James in with both hands on his arse and they groan into each other's mouths before he suddenly digs his fingernails in and drags them hard up the skin of James's back. He's rewarded by a much louder-than-usual noise, and arousal blazes down his spine at the sound.

"Nnnngh. What do you want?" Nick pants.

"You. Now."

"Slow?"

"Now."

"I want to see your face."

James rolls and settles Nick on top of him, and they're close enough to the edge of the bed that Nick can reach for the lube on the bedside table. "Between my legs?"

"Like this morning," James gasps, as he grinds up against Nick's thigh. He closes his arms tightly around Nick's torso and buries his face against his shoulder. "Oh god I love you."

Nick laughs at them, just a little, even as he's squeezing out a bit too much lube onto his fingers. "We are so ridiculous."

"Why?" James's voice is muffled.

"Because…" Nick thinks how to word it, and arranges himself so he can wrap one hand around both of them. He rolls his hips, thrusting against James's cock and through the grip of his hand, and it's good, but James shoves his hand between them to join with Nick's and the next thrust is tremendous. He shudders with pleasure, his thought derailed.

James has thrown his head back, but he still gasps out, "Why?"

Oh yeah. "Because—ohhhh—because we waited so long to say it." Nick keeps rolling his hips, and it's only by sheer force of will that he keeps his eyes open to look into James's. His expression is a bit vulnerable as he blinks and says, "I'm not just a little bit, James, I'm… I'm staggeringly in love with you." He closes his eyes tightly and lets his head drop, and it lolls with bliss. "I love you desperately."

James arches up to kiss him, and their hips stutter as their coordination suffers in deference to the passion of the kiss. He bites at Nick's lips, and Nick lets him, and James scrapes his nails down Nick's back with a broken sob. His hand on them tightens. They groan into each other's mouths with the next roll of their hips, then James's head falls back against the pillow, mouth agape. "Oh god why does it feel so good to say it."

Nick shakes his head against James's shoulder. "I don't know." He lays a line of emphatic kisses along James's collarbone from neck to shoulder.

"It's not a shock, but saying it feels incredible anyway."

Nick chuckles weakly. "You're a romantic."

"Shh," James tries not to smile. "No I'm not."

"You are." Nick kisses him, a smile spreading across his face.

"Then so are you."

"Maybe today we get a free pass?" Nick grins against James's mouth.

"Perhaps."

Nick remembers they're supposed to be having sex, and rolls his hips. "You showed your hand a bit, setting me up the best Christmas ever."

James slides his hand out from between them and starts running his hands all over Nick's back. One glides slickly for a few moments as he smears lube everywhere, and they giggle into each other's mouths, which rapidly devolves into biting kisses and laughing and undirected squirming.

"We keep getting sidetracked," James rumbles happily.

"We've got all night," Nick murmurs back.

"I love you," James whispers.

Nick can't grin any wider. "I love you back."

"Rolling," is all the notice Nick gets before James flips them over so he's on top. Nick giggles. "Let's get serious about this," James tries to smoulder, but the effect is ruined by the smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

So Nick just laughs at him instead. "It's not supposed to be work."

James props his weight on his hands and rolls his back and hips in one smooth undulation, sliding his cock alongside Nick's. "I mowed from nine 'til dinnertime, t'was far beyond my skill."

Nick giggles. "What?"

"Take my scythe in your hand, Sir Nicholas, to sharpen it, and I will mow your meadow land."

Nick collapses into laughter, flat on his back and weak and unable to stop. "Wh-what the f-fuck are you on about?"

James laughs at him laughing and nuzzles at his neck. "The Mower. It's a song."

"Am I the fair maiden in the scenario?"

"I thought you were the fair maiden in most scenarios."

"Fuck you," Nick says, still cracking up.

"That's what I'm talking about, here."

Somehow, Nick manages to laugh harder. He wraps his arms around James's neck and holds on. "God I l-love you so fucking much."

Chuckling, James starts laying kisses all over Nick's neck, along his shoulder, across his chest, and finally back up to his mouth, at which point Nick's laughter has gentled enough that he can kiss back. It becomes heated almost immediately, the joy transmuting to desperate passion, and soon they're panting into each other's mouths and trying to kiss and rolling their hips together, thrusting up into their joined hands. It's the same position as in the morning, but this time it feels ten times more intense, a hundred times more, as all Nick can think of as the pleasure spirals tighter and tighter is we're in love, we're madly in love, and he supposes he really must have turned romantic somewhere along the line because the thought catches something that burns through his skin like wildfire and he feels incandescent. James chokes on a sob and comes, shaking, and Nick holds on tightly as his own orgasm rocks through him.

He blinks back into awareness with James collapsed boneless along his side, James's head pillowed on his shoulder. "Nngh," Nick says.

"Uhn-hunh."

Nick mumbles, "I love you."

"You've got to stop saying that," James slurs, worn out and sweating. "It scatters my focus."

"Oh good." Nick curls his neck to kiss the top of James's head then lets his head fall back down again. "A weapon."

"Bastard."

"Eh, you love me."

James turns his head to press his face against Nick's skin. "So much."

Nick's cheeks are starting to ache from smiling. "We still have one more set of presents to open before we fall asleep." He trails the backs of his fingers up and down James's spine. James shivers. "This is your big gift."

"Yours too," James says in a lazy rumble. "But I don't want to get up."

"I could just tell you what I got you."

"That's a bit non-traditional."

"Do you actually care?"

"We're going to have to get up in a minute anyway and clean off…" James starts, but Nick tilts his head to raises an eyebrow at him, and James angles his face to look at his expression and chortles. "No, I don't actually care. Tell me."

"A bottle of Glenfiddich. 19 year old Age of Discovery, madeira cask finish."

James abruptly pushes onto his elbow to blink at him. "No."

Slowly, a smile spreads across Nick's face. "Yes."

"That's— Oh my god."

Nick grins at him. "Good choice?"

"You're fucking fantastic." James leans over to kiss him in gleeful amazement.

"Can be bought off with scotch. Check." That's it. Nick's cheeks really are going to hurt tomorrow from all the smiling. "So?"

"So?"

"What did you get me."

"Ohhhh…" James waves his hand dismissively. "Just that ridiculously-fancy fountain pen you drool over at the bookstore every time we go."

"Shut the hell up."

James chortles at him.

"SERIOUSLY?"

Grinning, James kisses him. "And there's my mouse. My teenaged mouse. Squeaking."

"God I love you so much."

"Can be bought off with posh office supplies?" James smirks.

Nick blinks at him, and the astonishment tempers his smile. "I can't believe you did that. It's such a…foolish luxury."

James looks incredibly amused. "Why, how much was that scotch?"

Nick blinks again. "Ah."

"See?" James snuggles down against him. "Now shut up. It was worth every penny to hear you make the Nicholas Mouse noise."

Nick's arms come up around him and he kisses James's hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and enjoying how soft it is against his lips when there's no product in it. After a few moments of holding him he murmurs, "Did you have a happy Christmas, my love?"

James squeezes him. "This was, without a doubt, far and away, the best I've ever had. Absolutely."

"Should we do this again next year?"

"And the year after that. And the year after that."

Something in Nick's chest blazes with happiness, and he kisses the top of James's head again. "Done."