Strange as it may seem, S isn't really all that concerned about how the cake might taste. J, he suspects, will be expecting perfection despite having never made something like this before, but for his part, in this instance, it really is the thought that counts. For J to go out of his way to make him something — getting up so early, trying something new, planning this in secret — means as much to him as any of the wrapped gifts under the tree if not more. For a moment, it makes him wish he had something more personal to give, too, but he's hopeful that what he got will be well-received. If not, there are receipts kept and returns that can be made, but he would rather it not come to that. It's Christmas. Presents may not ever have made much difference to the two of them, but he still doesn't want J to be disappointed.

"I love you," he replies, just as soft, lingering a moment before he pulls himself off the couch and moves over to the tree. It's a good thing, he thinks, that he remembers which present is which; it wouldn't be much of a surprise if J opened film or a camera bag without yet having a camera to use with it. It's a good thing, too, that J hasn't just grabbed one of them himself. If necessary, it probably wouldn't have been too difficult to cut him off and suggest which one to open instead, but still, it's simpler this way. Looking over the wrapped packages for a moment, he picks up the one containing a camera and holds it out to J, pleased and a little shy. "This one first. Merry Christmas."