#and the beinf held/pinned down

[destielgaysex]

we are so normal

[ri-ahhh]

rockin’ around

because my family isn’t doing anything Christmas until the 26th and I have nothing else to do

home for the holidays doesn’t always mean you have to return somewhere.

just a big pile of dumb, ridiculous fluff. happy Christmas Eve🎅🎄⛄️

***

“I can’t go home for Christmas.”

Grayson looks up from his phone as you mope into the living room, tossing your purse and keys on the couch cushion beside him before climbing onto his lap. He pouts and wraps you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple as you cling to him and nuzzle your nose into his warm neck.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. You sigh when he swipes a palm across your forehead to smooth back your hair. “What happened?”

“My dad just found out he might have gotten exposed at work.” You take a deep breath, holding back tears that would do no one any good. He’s in the exact same boat as you — minus the potential risk of his parent having the virus — but it still wouldn’t be fair to him if you sat here and cried about it. “I just really was hoping I’d get to see family, at least for the holidays.”

Grayson hums a little and brushes his lips against your forehead once again; he understands all too well the struggle of beinf an out-of-state transplant in these times. “Well, lucky for us, we’ve got our own little family in this house, right? It’s not the same, of course, but it’s more than a lot of people have.”

He’s right. You mumble some semblance of agreement and squeeze him tight. You’re still upset, but the familiar smell of his cologne and the feel of being close to him is already assuaging some of your anxiety and sadness.

He hugs you back, and you can hear the reassuring smile in his voice when he speaks again. “We’ll have a party on Christmas Eve. I’ll have Adele order all the shit today; we’re gonna this the best, most festive Christmas we can, babe. I’ll make sure of it.”

Christmas Eve arrives before you know it. If 2020 has taught you anything, it’s that time is the most fickle and outrageous concept of them all; you feel like it was yesterday that you hung up the phone with your mom after finding out you’d have to cancel your flight home, when it’s really been just over a week.

You’re returning back from your apartment with a carful of presents and the other half of your closet to hang up in Grayson’s, to find an excess of Christmas decor has exploded in the twins’ house. Kristina stands precariously on a stool while she hangs a garland across the back doors, Ethan standing protectively behind her with hands held at the ready to catch her rather than simply helping her pin the other end of it to the wall. You giggle and shake your head, making your way to the den to dump some of the presents under the tree. Mando and Adele are stringing multicolored lights all across the room, which is sure to set the vibe right when the Christmas movie night starts later.

Your favorite sight by far, though, is the one you see upon entering the kitchen once your car is completely unloaded. Grayson, in a Santa hat, scooping out thumbprint cookies onto a baking sheet, singing along adorably off-key to the Kacey Musgraves rendition of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ that’s playing through all of the nearby alexas.

“You’re so cute,” you grin, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek before reaching down sneakily and pinching his ass.

Grayson curses with a little yelp, but chuckles with you as he ducks down for a proper welcome-home kiss.

“Gotta make Santa his cookies,” he says, grinning against your lips, then puckers them a couple more times before pulling away. He sets the bowl down and starts mashing imprints into the dough.

You reach up and squeeze the pompom on the end of his hat and quirk a suggestive brow at him. “You look like a Santa to me. And I might have a special cookie for you later tonight.”

Grayson’s own arched brows shoot up until they’re hidden beneath that sexy swoop of dark hair you love so much. He pushes too hard on one of the dough balls, squishing it much too flat, but he doesn’t even notice. “Yeah?”

You nod and pick up the jelly jar from where it sits on the counter next to a batch of already baked and cooled cookies. “Yep.” You lick and suck the remnants of the sticky sweet from the spoon that rests in the jar, eyeing him up and down. “I may have even bought special packaging for it, too.”

You smile widely at his annoyed laugh, watching him shake his head and get back to work to distract himself from the mental image of the early Christmas present he’s sure to receive tonight.

Ethan and Kristina are still hanging more garland and bunting all around the house, and you take pity on your friend when you hear her bickering quietly with her boyfriend about him refusing to do anything but be her spotter.

“I’m, like, a meter off the ground, E. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m American; a meter sounds like a lot. And you’ve almost fallen like five times.”

“Only because you’re distracting me and not actually helping!”

You laugh and haul a barstool to where the end of the ‘merry Christmas’ bunting needs to go, shooing Ethan off to help Mando and Adele. What would Christmas be without some healthy fighting from the resident mom and dad?

Decorations get finalized, cooking and baking are completed, and everyone gathers in the living room for some fun Christmas-themed games you and Adele had found on Pinterest. Ryan even makes it over, having made the decision himself to stay in LA as well. Adele passes around more Santa hats and obnoxious necklaces made of big, lit-up Christmas lights to accompany everyone’s ugly sweaters and cozy pajama pants. It’s truly something out of a Hallmark movie, and though you still miss your family across the country, you marvel at the one you’ve built right here — just like Grayson said.

Much later on (technically Christmas Day at this point), after cycling through The Grinch, Home Alone, and Love Actually, Ethan and Kristina head to bed. Mando’s new apartment is close enough that he goes home, taking Ryan with him, and Adele crashes in the guest room. It leaves you and Grayson some alone time to cuddle up together in a bundle of blankets beneath the tree, sharing soft giggles and sweet kisses.

Grayson’s smile is infectious as he nuzzles a dimple in your cheek brought out by your own giddiness — you practically feel the energy of a child in the early morning hours of Christmas, waiting on presents to appear magically beneath the tree.

“Do you think Santa will still come if I fuck you under this tree?” he whispers, kissing your ear softly and making you shudder. The chasteness compared to the dirty nature of his words gets you even more riled up. “In the hat, and that necklace, and whatever special wrapping you mentioned earlier?”

You hum and run your hands up and down his broad back, letting him trail hot kisses now down the column of your neck, sighing happily. “I don’t know. I think rockin’ around the Christmas tree in that way might get us put on the naughty list last moment.”

“More like rompin’ around the Christmas tree, am I right babe?”

You laugh out loud, squirming beneath him when he slips his hands beneath your sweater and tickles your ribs gently. You reach up and adjust his skewed Santa hat. “Please shut up, Mr. Claus. Now, I might already be wearing that wrapping, if you’re ready to eat your cookie.”