S smiles, gentle, as he shakes his head, taking a small sip from his own cup. He couldn't possibly be disappointed. There could be nothing but store-bought socks under the tree for him and still he would be happy just to be spending Christmas at J's side, neither of them alone anymore. J having baked for him is already more than he would have expected. J just being with him is a hell of a lot more than he had last year, a Christmas that he did nothing to mark as such, save for leaving another carefully vague message on J's answering machine, the holiday spent missing years past and people no longer with him in one way or another. Just what he has so far, a quiet morning curled up together, is infinitely preferable.
Besides, J knows him as well as anyone could. It hardly seems likely that anything he picked out could be disappointing in the slightest. Of course, by the same logic, the gifts he bought for J should be good ones, too, nothing worth worrying about now, but he knows he's taken a chance of sorts here. He just hopes it pays off — that it might be more than a nice present to open, but something good for J, too, the way that practicing in the kitchen has been. He knows that J won't always be happy, even if he doesn't understand his moods all of the time; he knows, too, that there's a particular void he can never fill, though at least J has recently taken a step in that direction himself. Still, offering something new can't hurt, as long as he's actually chosen well here. And he better have, really, given that most of the gifts he has are pieces of the same thing.
"I won't be," he promises, content and confident in that. "I already have you here. Everything else is extra." With a quiet little laugh, he scrunches his nose, taking another sip of coffee. "And the cake is one more edible thing than I was expecting."
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Besides, J knows him as well as anyone could. It hardly seems likely that anything he picked out could be disappointing in the slightest. Of course, by the same logic, the gifts he bought for J should be good ones, too, nothing worth worrying about now, but he knows he's taken a chance of sorts here. He just hopes it pays off — that it might be more than a nice present to open, but something good for J, too, the way that practicing in the kitchen has been. He knows that J won't always be happy, even if he doesn't understand his moods all of the time; he knows, too, that there's a particular void he can never fill, though at least J has recently taken a step in that direction himself. Still, offering something new can't hurt, as long as he's actually chosen well here. And he better have, really, given that most of the gifts he has are pieces of the same thing.
"I won't be," he promises, content and confident in that. "I already have you here. Everything else is extra." With a quiet little laugh, he scrunches his nose, taking another sip of coffee. "And the cake is one more edible thing than I was expecting."