When J pouts, S can't do anything but smile a little wider, the expression far more endearing than it has any right to be. The kiss that soon follows helps with that, too, his arms still looped gently around J's waist. For a moment — no, always, but notably right now — that matters far more than anything else. It's Christmas, and they're here, and they're together. There's always something stunning about the quiet simplicity of moments like this anyway, and that's even truer now with the occasion at hand. Really, this is all he could ever want or need. Caught up in how good that feels, S just looks at him, indescribably fond, gaze soft. He's thought many times that J is particularly adorable when he's recently woken up. This time, it can't be that recent if he has something about to come out of the oven, but he's still rumpled and sweet in a way that S knows no one else gets to see, which makes him cherish it even more.

"A minute and a half before I have to move, then," he replies, punctuating the words with another brief kiss. "Merry Christmas. Ah, you're sweet." He knew that J would wind up doing something, despite his saying that he didn't need much, but he wasn't expecting something homemade, something baked. That he's pretty sure the cookbook he can see on the counter is the one he got for J's birthday makes it all the more touching, in a way, a sign that he really did get something right with that. Maybe he will have done so with J's presents today, too. Likewise, he knows that J wouldn't make a big deal of it if he had little in the way of gifts, because that's been the case before and it's never posed a problem. S just likes doing as much as is reasonable anyway, likes finding things that will make J happy, that he can use.

Not wanting to be in the way, but not wanting to pull away before he has to either, he lets out a tiny, content sigh. "Is there coffee yet?" he asks. "Or should I put some on?"