Though it's exactly the kind of thing he expects S to say and how he feels in turn, it still feels good to hear, a gentle warmth curling in J's chest at the words, a soft smile following. They've never really been able to give each other much anyway, as far as physical things go. This is very probably their biggest Christmas in that sense. None of it is nearly as important as this, and J just barely restrains the urge to climb into S's lap and kiss him, if only because he doesn't want both of them covered in hot coffee.

"I knew you'd be surprised," he says instead, soft and pleased with himself. If it tastes even okay, he thinks it'll be a success. He's hardly the greatest cook in the world, but he's improved substantially here, he's sure of that. Shifting his coffee to just one hand, he reaches out with the other, resting it atop S's leg. "Hopefully they're nice extras, and if not, oh, well." It's not quite that simple, of course, given J's rather intense perfectionist streak, but he's also had to temper that part of himself when it comes to anything that involves spending money, and that's been true all his life. He's not always good at it, not above the occasional terrible impulse buy, but gift-giving is, at least, one area where he's a tiny bit better at simply hoping he's achieved good enough.

He glances over at their tree again. "I already feel spoiled," he says, somehow both wry and entirely in earnest.