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Gale’s body feels warm and weighted, the tendrils of sleep still clinging to him even as he slowly drifts into consciousness. There’s an arm wrapped around his back, a broad chest beneath him where his head rests. Light fingertips trail gently up and down his arm, telling Gale that John is already awake. When he blinks his eyes open, he finds John already looking down at him with a tender, sleepy smile.
John’s curls are sleep-mussed and unruly as always in the morning. Smiling softly, Gale reaches up to brush a stray curl from his forehead, making John’s smile widen as his gaze follows the motion of Gale’s hand.
“Morning, baby,” John murmurs in a raspy whisper. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Gale replies, his voice quiet and filled with warmth.
He tilts his chin up to give John a quick, chaste kiss, mindful of their morning breath. John hums happily into it, and Gale’s heart swells. Gale sort of wants to stay wrapped up in the moment forever, but he knows they have Egan Christmas traditions to uphold. Clearly, John knows it too, because he springs into action, tossing the covers back and nudging Gale up and out of bed with him.
“Come on, it’s Christmas morning. That means my mom’s chocolate chip pancakes!” John exclaims, his voice full of childlike excitement.
Gale shakes his head in fond amusement but follows, the two of them standing side by side at the bathroom counter to brush their teeth and tame their messy hair. With a mouthful of foamy toothpaste, John bumps his hip playfully against Gale’s. Gale rolls his eyes fondly at the other boy’s antics yet gives him a returning smile in the mirror, his own toothbrush between his lips.
Then, as Gale sifts through his suitcase for a pair of jeans and a sweater, John wraps his arms around him from behind, hooking his chin over Gale’s shoulder and effectively halting his movements. “What are you doing?”
Gale furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Looking for clothes to wear?”
John shakes his head, the movement jostling against Gale’s shoulder. “No, no. It’s Christmas tradition to stay in pajamas all day. Much cozier that way.”
Gale smiles and shrugs, dropping the jeans back into his suitcase haphazardly. He can fold them later. “If you say so.”
The two of them bound down the staircase, still in their plaid pajama bottoms and sweatshirts. Sure enough, the smell of chocolate chip pancakes and coffee is already wafting through the house. In the kitchen, John’s mom Mary stands at the stove flipping pancakes in a red and green apron while his sister Ella sets the table, Christmas music crooning softly in the background.
When John and Gale enter, both Mary and Ella come over to wish them good morning and a Merry Christmas, greeting them both with enthusiastic hugs and kisses.
Gale thinks he should be used to the whirlwind of affection by now—considering he spent both the last spring break and this past Thanksgiving at the Egans’ after distancing himself from his own parents last December—but he’s still unused to the way his heart soars at the love and warmth he always receives from John’s family.
After everyone exchanges good mornings, John and Gale move to help Ella finish setting the table.
The foreignness of the warm greetings must show in his demeanor, because as they go, John offers him a knowing smile and a quick, reassuring squeeze of his hand. Gale gives him a smile in return, pressing their shoulders together briefly before grabbing a handful of silverware from the drawer to lay out on the table.
Soon enough, the table is adorned with a tall stack of pancakes, a plate of fruit, and four mugs of steaming coffee. After they all sit down to eat together, Gale takes his first bite of chocolate chip pancake, and the perfect blend of sweet and savory floods his mouth. His reaction must be clear on his face, because John laughs softly.
“Good, right?” John asks with a smile.
Mary and Ella look over at him too, and Gale blushes a bit under the attention, but nods in agreement. “Really good. Thank you, Mary.”
“You’re welcome, honey,” Mary says kindly. “Now everyone eat up, else we’ll have far too many leftovers.”
As they finish eating, they chat excitedly about the day—John and Ella most of all—and though Gale feels a little lost, he’s curious to experience all the fuss around Christmas. For him, it’s never been anything different than any other day in the stifling atmosphere of his parents’ house. This morning has already been a stark contrast from the indifference he’s used to, and he has a feeling it will only get better as the day wears on.
With their plates cleared and stacked in the sink as a problem for later, Ella insists they head into the living room to open their stockings. There’s been three hung above the fireplace since they arrived for the break—one each for John, Ella, and Mary.
But when they enter, Gale immediately halts in his tracks. A matching fourth stocking hangs on the mantle above the crackling fireplace, with his name written on it in neat cursive stitching. Out of the corner of his eye, Gale sees John look over in confusion, then follow his gaze to the stocking, letting out a soft noise of surprise.
“C’mon,” John says softly, tugging Gale gently towards the fireplace.
Gale follows, and once close enough, he runs light fingers over the stitching in awe and disbelief. If John didn’t do this, which he evidently didn’t, based on his earlier reaction, then it must have been Mary. Happiness explodes in his chest, and he feels moisture start to well up in his eyes.
Then, there’s a warm hand on his back, just between his shoulder blades. He looks over to find Mary standing next to him, a gentle smile on her face.
“Do you like it?” Mary asks.
He opens his mouth to reply, but finds himself speechless, unable to find words to express how much he appreciates the gesture. Suddenly, he feels truly a part of their family Christmas, rather than just a guest or a bystander. He knows Mary must have stitched the stocking by hand, and he can’t quite believe she would spend so much time on something like that just for him.
Unable to put his gratitude into words, he instead turns and wraps Mary in a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder. He sniffles a couple of times as he fights off the threat of tears.
Finally, he finds his voice. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you so much.”
“Oh, honey.” Mary hugs him back just as tightly, her age-worn hands rubbing his back as she rocks them gently. “It was no problem at all.”
Once Gale composes himself enough to pull back from the hug, Mary gives his cheek an affectionate pat, her eyes kind and understanding. Then, the four of them settle on the couch and armchairs to open their stockings.
John rests a gentle hand on Gale’s back as they sit close on the couch. “You okay?” he mouths.
Gale nods, giving him a grateful smile. John smiles back, then nudges him to open his stocking as he and Ella begin to do the same. Inside his own, Gale finds various school supplies—new pens, pencils, highlighters, sticky notes—and all his favorite snacks and candies, information Mary could only have gotten from John.
He thanks her profusely once more, and before long, Ella is digging under the Christmas tree to pass out gifts to everyone. Gale’s heart warms as she hands him not only a neatly wrapped gift from John, but one from her and Mary as well.
They go around the room, taking turns each opening a gift. When it’s Gale’s turn, he first opens the one from Mary and Ella, finding a new navy blue Oakwood University sweatshirt inside.
“I hope it’s not one you already have, and that it’s the right size,” Mary fusses. “I kept the receipt, just in case.”
He has to fight his instinct to insist that it’s too much, that he can’t accept the gift, knowing exactly how overpriced the apparel at the campus store is. He had almost bought a similar sweatshirt for himself as the weather turned colder, but balked at the price tag and had left the shop empty handed instead.
Anxiety rises at the thought of her spending that much money on him, but when he glances over at John’s smiling face next to him, waiting for his reaction, he pushes it down. Gale knows what John would say—that Mary got it because she cares about him, that she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t want to, that it’s okay to let other people care for him sometimes. That he’s worth it. So, he shakes his head, thumbing over the fabric.
“This is perfect,” Gale says gratefully. “Thank you.”
They do another round of opening gifts, during which Gale and John both open the gifts they got one another. Gale got John tickets to see his favorite band, and John’s face lights up when he reads the small papers.
“No way, really?” John exclaims, whipping his head over to look at Gale. “I thought these were all sold out!”
“Nope,” Gale says, pleased at John’s response to the gift.
John cups his face and gives him a gentle kiss. “Thank you, baby.”
Gale blushes, aware that John's family is watching, but smiles softly in return. “You’re welcome.”
Then, Gale carefully unwraps his gift from John. As he peels off the wrapping paper, he finds a relatively flat, square box inside. When he lifts the lid off the box, there’s a silver chain bracelet nestled inside, linking a circular portion with a textured looking inlay. It’s a nice bracelet, something that Gale will definitely wear often. But, he feels like he’s missing the significance, so he looks over at John curiously.
“The inlay is real meteorite,” John explains.
Gale’s eyes widen. He looks back at the bracelet in awe, running a finger lightly over the inlay. “That’s so cool,” he says breathlessly.
“Do you really like it?” John asks, seeming nervous. “I kept the receipt, too, in case.”
“I love it.” Gale says honestly, pressing a soft kiss to John’s cheek. “Thank you.”
He holds out the bracelet and his left wrist for John to help him put it on, who obliges happily. As Mary and Ella open their next gifts, Gale can’t stop himself from looking down at the bracelet and smiling, twisting it around his wrist and thumbing over the small circle of meteorite in awe. Each time John catches him doing it, a wide smile splits on his face at Gale’s clear excitement at the gift.
Once all the presents have been opened and thanks given all around, the four of them spend the rest of the morning watching Christmas movies. Gale leans comfortably against John on the couch, a fuzzy Christmas blanket thrown over them both. The fireplace crackles underneath the television, giving the room with warmth and a woodsy scent, the atmosphere filling Gale with a deep sense of contentment.
Later, they all chip in to prepare Christmas dinner together, and Gale is glad that John and Mary let him help as if he’s part of the family, rather than a guest who they insist stays seated and relaxed while they do all the work. It makes him feel less guilty about crashing their usual family traditions. Plus, every time he and John move easily around one another in the kitchen he feels like he gets a little glimpse into their future together.
Soon enough, their stomachs are full and their hunger satiated. With the table cleared of dishes, the four of them return to it, now stacked high with a pile of board games courtesy of Ella’s doing. They spend the rest of the evening working their way through the pile, watching more Christmas movies, and sharing more love and laughter than Gale ever thought was possible in one household.
Much later that night, when Gale and John head for the staircase to go to bed, Ella suddenly calls out, “Wait!” just as they reach the bottom step.
They both stop, looking back at her in confusion. She smirks, her eyes flicking to the ceiling. Above their heads, there’s a small bundle of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Laughter bubbles up and out of Gale, and soon John is laughing with him too.
“Really, Ella?” John asks, amused. “When did you even put that up?”
Ella shrugs with an innocent smile. Next to her, Mary shakes her head in motherly exasperation.
“Well, it’s your funeral,” John says with a shrug of his own. Before Gale can even contemplate what he means, John kisses him soundly, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close.
Gale’s eyes flutter shut as he melts into the kiss, the rest of the room fading away as his heart pounds with warmth and love. He can’t even bring himself to be that embarrassed about Mary and Ella watching them, despite the fact that it’s a far deeper and more intimate kiss than he and John would usually share in front of the other boy’s family.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Ella finally exclaims.
Gale feels a bit breathless when they pull apart, his cheeks flushed. When he glances over, he sees Ella peeking through her fingers while covering her face. Mary simply watches the scene with an amused smile.
“I don’t know what you thought was gonna happen, El,” John teases. “I mean, how could you possibly make me kiss my boyfriend under the mistletoe? Terrible of you, honestly.”
“Whatever,” Ella grumbles, rolling her eyes, though the smile playing on her lips betrays her.
With that, John bids his mom and sister goodnight once more, so Gale follows suit. As John tugs him up the stairs, Mary calls out behind them, “Remember, bedroom door stays cracked open, John!”
Gale feels a mild flush of embarrassment at the implication in her words, but John just laughs in response, clearly unbothered. Yet, when they enter his room, John does as he was told, leaving the door cracked open a respectable amount.
The two of them get ready for bed, then slip under the covers and settle in close together. John wraps an arm around Gale, and Gale rests his head on John’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. In the soft glow of the Christmas lights still on outside the window, everything feels perfect.
“Did you have a good Christmas?” John murmurs, his voice low and warm.
Gale nods, smiling to himself. “Best one I’ve ever had,” he replies honestly.
John presses a kiss to the top of his head, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Good. You deserve it.”
“What about you?”
“Best Christmas I’ve had in a while,” John says quietly. A beat of silence passes, in which Gale knows they’re both thinking of John’s dad—of that forever empty hole in John’s heart, especially around the holidays. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Gale’s stomach swoops with emotion. He could never find the words to express how glad he is to be there, compared to being alone in his room at school or in the cold bite of his parents’ house. “Me too,” he settles for saying.
He shifts to give John a gentle kiss, their breath minty and warm between them. John’s lips are slightly chapped from the chill of winter, like usual, and Gale finds he loves the familiarity of it. As their mouths move together languidly, affection floods Gale’s body from head to toes, leaving him giddy. John’s tongue swipes gently across his bottom lip one last time before pulling away.
“I love you so much,” John whispers. “Merry Christmas, doll.”
“And I love you. Merry Christmas, John.”