The light in John’s bedroom was brighter this morning. Chance rolled over onto his back, glad he’d finally slept past four a.m. John was curled up on his side and muttered a protest when Chance moved away. Chance scooted over, molding his body along John’s back, humming with pleasure.

Waking up in John’s bed, with his arms wrapped around John’s waist, was what he’d been waiting for his entire life. A wave of emotion threatened Chance; he had to bury his face in the back of John’s neck.

“Mdfefs,” John whispered.

“What?” Chance murmured back.

“Merry Christmas.” Much clearer this time.

“Right, believe it or not I forgot. Merry Christmas.”

John turned onto his back, looking up at Chance with clear eyes. They were much more blue this morning than Chance remembered. “I can’t believe you made me put up a tree and decorate it when we don’t have anything to put under it.”

“Mmmm, is that so?” He stared at John meaningfully, hoping John was imagining the same thing he was.

“Oh.” John’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. “Yes, well, I suppose.”

Chance didn’t try to resist the urge to lean in for a kiss. He wanted to be able to do so every day for the rest of their lives.

Suddenly John sat straight up. “Holy shit!”

Chance sat up as well, heart racing, and looked around. “What’s wrong? Is it the blasted kitten?”

John shoved the covers back and leapt out of bed, naked as the day he was born, to go and peer out the bedroom window. “Holy, just, wow.”

“What?” Chance slipped out of bed to join John at the window.

The world outside was white, and snow was still falling steadily and fast.

John turned to Chance. “Maybe three or four times since I was born has there been a white Christmas in Skagit. Maybe.”

Snow had a way of making everything beautiful and quiet. Because it was a holiday, most people who lived on John’s street were still inside, probably tucked into their warm beds, not even realizing the gift Mother Nature had delivered.

He rubbed his arms. He could feel the cold through the windowpane, and the heat was turned down.

“Where is the kitten?”

“I put it back in the pantry last night before we,” John let a small smile play across his face, “came upstairs. And we have got to stop calling it, ‘it.’”

---

The second time they got out of bed it was because Chance’s stomach rumbled and they both realized at the same time they hadn’t eaten any dinner the night before. In fact, they hadn’t eaten since before they’d gone tree shopping.

“I make a mean oatmeal?” John said.

“I would eat just about anything right now.”

John threw on a pair of loose cotton pants and a sweatshirt before he headed down to the kitchen. Chance’s spare clothes were in the guest room. He found his bag and picked out a comfortable tracksuit bottom and jumper. Yeah, he looked like a complete wally, but he was warm.

Back in the master bedroom, he gathered up the previous day’s clothes and the rest of the pile to stuff in the hamper, automatically going through pockets as he did so. He’d put far too many pens through the wash. In one of John’s pockets he found an envelope. He didn’t start out intending to snoop, he just unfolded it to see what it was.

The bloody letter from the bank.

Deciding to ask forgiveness later, Chance examined it before folding it carefully back up and tucking it into a paperback on the bedside table. Gathering the hamper, he took it and himself down to the kitchen.

“Where’s the washing machine?” he called out.

“The wash? Oh, upstairs.” John emerged from the pantry followed by the kitten, who looked to have doubled in size overnight. “I had them installed in the space under the stairs leading to the attic.

“Very practical.”

“I thought so.”

Chance left the hamper at the bottom of the stairs before turning the tree lights on. Returning to the kitchen, he found John stirring something on the stove that was most likely oatmeal and trying to play with a rambunctious kitten at the same time.

“I can’t cook worth a bullock’s blue balls; I’ll entertain Trouble here.”

John had found a long piece of ribbon, bright red and shiny, perfect for the kitten.

“We need one of those laser things I’ve seen on TV.”

“Tomorrow, when the stores open back up.”

Tomorrow when the stores opened back up, Chance and John were making a trip to the bank. And—he thought as he dragged the ribbon back and forth, back and forth, laughing when the kitten slid across the floor against the cabinets—to the vet.

John set their bowls on the table in the breakfast nook. While the oatmeal had been cooking, he’d also brewed coffee. Chance sighed. Apparently he was going to have to at least try to drink coffee, as he hadn’t remembered to look for tea yesterday and a perusal of the pantry brought no tea to light.

The nook had built-in benches around the small table instead of chairs. It meant that he and John were able to cuddle next to each other as they ate their Christmas morning oatmeal and looked out into the snowy backyard. John had put holiday music on, and it played quietly in the background.

It was magical.

The snow was falling thick and fast, not blizzard conditions, but Chance was glad they didn’t have anywhere to be.

“Bloody hell, what about the showtimes today?”

John grinned. “The show must go on, smarty-pants.” He spooned oatmeal into his mouth and continued after swallowing. “Your fancy SUV will be fine. We’ll still get some folks. Not as many as last night. But,” he shrugged, “that’s generally how Christmas Day is regardless of the weather. We have a few hours to kill before we need to head down. I’ll text Reed and tell him not to come in, but dollars to doughnuts he shows up anyway.”

“First, pants are not what you think they are, and what the bloody hell does ‘dollars to doughnuts’ mean?”

John laughed and Chance joined in, loving that he could make that happen.

“Just so you know, enjoy the snow today. It will probably be gone tomorrow, and if it isn’t, you’ll hate it, because snow here is a pain in the ass. It gets icy quick, and the hills—well, let’s just say there are always a few slow car crashes that end up on the local news.”

---

John was right. The theater was not even close to as busy as it had been the night before, but twenty or so hardy souls showed up, and Reed too, to watch six and a half hours of holiday mayhem. It had been years since Chance had watched these movies. This time he sat up in the booth with John, cozy and quiet, enjoying every moment of their time together.

By the time everyone left and the theater was locked up, it was after eight in the evening. Snow had continued to fall, and the radio announcer they’d listened to on the drive in said it wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. The main streets were clear enough for his car, but he was glad they didn’t have more than a few miles to drive.

The kitten was indignant it had been left to its own devices. John opened the pantry door and it stomped out, but it didn’t pout for too long. Once Chance had the string out, it was happy to run around the kitchen and out into the main area. It found the tree very interesting, stopping to sniff and hesitantly raise a paw toward an ornament.

“Hell no,” John said. “I’ll go find the spray bottle!”