The way S looks at him, J could just about melt away. It's bliss, having a moment like this, standing in their home, in their kitchen, in the arms of the man he loves, being looked at like that, and it's a moment he gets to have fairly regularly. He's so fucking lucky it's breathtaking. By all rights they should never have made it to this moment and yet it's exactly as it should be.

He lifts his hands to S's face, pulling him back for another soft kiss. "Merry Christmas," he murmurs. He's not the sweet one here, S is, a soft drowsiness clinging to him, wrapped around all the fondness in his gaze. If he hadn't set a timer — and he nearly didn't, nearly just followed the clock on the microwave — he might miss the right time to take the cookies out, because it's very difficult to look away from S when he's like this. And today, today is so special he can hardly wrap his mind around it. They're here. They're still here. S could give him nothing but that gaze and he'd be happy.

"There's coffee," he adds after a moment, smiling, pleased with himself. "I thought you'd want it with your present." It's not, of course, the only present. He's already set the others, haphazardly wrapped, under their ridiculous little tree. It's just the only one that's fresh-baked and edible. He lets out a laugh, a touch nervous, but excited, too. "I hope it comes out okay."