Smiling at the tender press of J's hand to his leg, S simply breathes in deep for a moment, taking in everything — the lights on the tree, the mingled scents of pine needles and coffee in the air, the soft look on his boyfriend's face. Between the fact that he hasn't been awake for very long and the quiet peace of a morning like this, everything feels just a little bit hazy and dreamlike, a little bit surreal, at once both comfortably steady and unspeakably delicate. It makes him gentle when he leans in, not for a kiss but to nose against J's neck for a moment, too much affection in him to be suppressed. There's no need to bother at a time like this anyway. This is all theirs. Already he has everything he needs — far more than he could have expected — with J beside him.

"So do I," he agrees, pressing a kiss to J's shoulder as he eases back. It's perfect, really, as much so as any of the Christmases he might have imagined when he was young, before he knew what life would have in store for him. He doesn't need presents for that to be the case. He has no doubt, though, that they will be nice extras, if only because it's J who picked them out.

Curious as he is, though, he's far more eager to do the giving than the receiving. "Do you want to open something?" he asks. "You made me the cake, so I think you should go first."