White Christmas [original slash, r]
White Christmas. Rated R. Original.
silver_etoile
Despite Micah’s claim of being a hardened lawyer, his eyes give away his heart, and Adam loves that about him.
Have a little Christmas cheer :]
Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to me and any similarities to persons living or dead is a coincidence.
*
The light wakes him up, bright white shining through the gap in the heavy curtains on the other side of the room. The vertical sliver of light falls right into his eyes and Adam turns, rubbing his face into his pillow and exhaling softly. The covers are warm and thick, but Adam can feel the cold air outside the cocoon of covers as he shifts, peeping out from over the edge of the pillow to face the softly-breathing form of the person next to him.
His eyes flit up the man’s strong jaw, tracing the lines of his slightly-parted lips up to his crooked nose, a small, jagged scar on the bridge where as a teenager, someone punched him, breaking his glasses and the glass cut into his skin, leaving a clean scar behind. Adam watches him breathe, in and out, in and out in a steady rhythm, and he smiles to himself, fingers reaching for the shag of dark hair that really needs to be trimmed. His fingertips brush gently against the skin as he pushes the hair back and he watches with sharp green eyes as Micah stirs, mouth twitching like Adam is a fly.
Adam’s smile is small but smug as Micah’s eyes open slowly and he blinks a second before giving Adam a look he knows very well, somewhere in between exasperated and curious, which is surprisingly not that uncommon considering he just woke up.
“What are you doing?” Micah asks, voice a sleep-rough grumble, and he stretches out beneath the covers, toes brushing the baseboard, and Adam lets his fingers drift back down Micah’s jaw line, sliding down to rest against his bare chest, cool fingers against warm skin.
“Good morning,” he replies with a sweet smile instead of answering the question, ignoring the way Micah’s gaze changes to resigned acceptance and leaning in to kiss the miniscule hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He always knows the best ways to crack Micah’s hardened façade, which seems always to be up, even at the crack of dawn.
“Morning,” Micah echoes, if not a little less enthusiastic considering his glance at the clock tells him it’s barely seven-thirty in the morning. He lets Adam twine their fingers together, though, under the covers and inch closer. He can smell the spicy aftershave Adam is so fond of, faint after a night of sleep, and intermixing with the rest of the house that smells like it’s been plopped down in the middle of an apple-cinnamon candle factory.
Adam smiles as he kisses Micah slowly, cold noses brushing together, and Micah’s hand tightens in his for a moment before the kiss is over and Micah is tugging at a lock of Adam’s dirty blond hair, pushing it behind his ear and sighing contentedly.
“Merry Christmas,” Adam murmurs as they lie there in the big, warm, comfortable bed, and a part of him never wants to get up.
The room around them is spacious although the bed takes up a good bit of the space. The floor is meticulously clean aside from a jumble of shoes tumbling out of the closet and a small patch on the dresser covered with small, uneven stacks of coins. A pair of neatly folded slacks sits on the chair by the desk in the corner, a jacket hung over the back as well. The dark blue curtains are thick and long, brushing against the beige carpet, and they flutter lightly as the heater kicks on beneath.
“Mmm,” Micah hums in agreement, perfectly content to stay in bed at least another few hours, maybe even go back to sleep, but he should know better than to consider asking Adam to stay still for more than five minutes, especially on a holiday.
“Time for presents!” Adam says after a minute of basking in the comfort of the bed and Micah pressed up against him, and he grins at Micah, blinking his all-too innocent eyes up at him, knowing he’ll cave in about five seconds no matter how appealing staying in bed is.
“You go. I’ll just give Santa a little more time to get things ready,” Micah replies simply, rolling over away from Adam, and Adam is not put-out in the slightest.
Pressing himself up against Micah’s back, he slides his hands around and down his chest to where Micah’s boxers rest low on his hips. Dragging his lips against the back of Micah’s neck against the small, black Phoenix bird tattoo, he presses a kiss to the skin, nuzzling in against him sweetly.
Micah doesn’t react or move, even when Adam’s wandering fingers dip lower, tracing the elastic line of his boxers, and his tongue licks against his tattoo slowly, almost teasingly. Micah has more willpower than that, especially considering the early hour and the fact that it’s a holiday, one of the few days he gets off work that isn’t a weekend, and Adam wants him to get up so they can open presents that will still be there in an hour.
“Come on,” Adam wheedles, lying his hand flat against Micah’s torso, resisting the urge to trace his muscles, and sighing warmly against the back of his neck. He hums softly, pressing his hips up against Micah’s slowly. “I want you to fuck me in the kitchen after coffee and in the living room in front of the Christmas tree, and by the fireplace after all the presents are unwrapped. Can’t do any of that here.”
Adam can’t see Micah’s face or feel him shift, but he knows it doesn’t take much to wear him down. Hooking his foot under Micah’s ankle, he gives him a little tug. He lets his hands wander farther down, inching under the waistband of Micah’s boxers as he waits.
“Please?” he murmurs, stroking his fingers against Micah’s hip bone, the spot he knows sends shivers down his spine, and he’s rewarded as Micah sighs, resigned, and wraps his hands around Adam’s wrists, pulling his hands back up.
“I hate Christmas,” Micah says dispassionately, rolling over onto his back, and Adam grins, leaning in for a short kiss before rolling out of bed and tossing on an old, too-big hoodie.
“No, you don’t,” he says sagely, and Micah doesn’t refute it because it’s technically not wrong. In fact, he doesn’t particularly mind it especially when Adam bends over to search for his slippers and he gets a nice view of his ass, round and tight, and just as he remembers it from the first time they met when Adam had been leaning down to pick up a fallen napkin. As Adam straightens back up, he catches Micah staring and a small, mischievous smile curls his lips. “You were staring at my ass.”
Micah doesn’t argue or even reply, turning away and tossing back the covers. “Let’s get this morning over with.”
“Don’t be such a Grinch,” Adam reprimands him as Micah shuffles around the end of the bed and catches Adam around the waist before he can bound out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room.
Adam is only a few inches shorter than him, but Micah has always used the difference to his advantage, and now is no different as he pulls Adam back against him, dodging his messy hair and leaning down to his ear. There are three freckles in a triangle shape just behind Adam’s ear that Micah has always loved and he takes a second to admire them as Adam waits patiently in his arms.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” he says finally, and he knows Adam is smiling ridiculously even if he can’t see. He takes another second before he lets go, eyes skimming down Adam’s perfectly straight nose and creamy skin, unblemished except for a few stray freckles on his neck. Micah presses a quick kiss to his neck before letting go and stretching. “I need coffee.”
He leaves the room ahead of Adam, and Adam grins and follows after him.
*
The living room is decorated from ceiling to floor (most of it Adam’s work, although Micah did help put the tree up so Adam didn’t die in a deluge of pine needles) with the elaborately decorated tree in the corner near the front window. It’s bedecked with so many ornaments - most of them Micah doesn’t even know where they came from - that the actual tree is nearly invisible underneath the balls, figurines, cookies, and candy canes. A nativity scene is set up on the mantle along with fake snow and holly leaves winding past the stocking holders.
Garland borders every entrance to the room and Micah has just gotten used to being trapped by Adam under the mistletoe at least twice a day.
Before he heads to the kitchen to start the much-needed coffee, Micah passes through the living room to plug in the tree, knowing that Adam will demand it in five seconds anyway. As he has his head stuck underneath the prickly bottom of the tree, needles raining down on the presents there, he hears a gasp followed by an excited squeak.
“Adam?” Micah asks as he finally locates the plug and sticks it into the wall. The tree illuminates with multicolored twinkle lights and he pulls his head out from underneath, brushing needles out of his hair, to see Adam standing at the front window, practically pressed against the pane.
“It snowed!” Adam cries, eyes lighting up in a way Micah has rarely seen. “Look! It’s snowing now!”
Before Micah can stop him, Adam has torn from the window and is wrenching the front door open.
“Adam!” Micah calls as he rushes out onto the front porch in only a pair of slippers, boxers, and a thin hoodie.
The cold air gusts inside and Micah shivers as he hurries to the door, grabbing a coat off the rack and stepping out to find Adam standing in the front yard, arms outstretched and staring up at the sky, wincing as the snow hits him in the face.
The front yard is filled with a smooth layer of snow, clean and untouched and spreading all the way down to the sidewalk and into the street where a few tire marks blemish the white surface. Down the street, a cluster of cars are parked around one of the neighbors’ houses that Micah never bothered to learn the names of.
“Adam, it’s freezing out here,” he says, stepping off the porch and following Adam’s footprint marks to where he stands, a sparkle in his eyes not unlike the first time they met, as though he’s seeing something that totally amazes him, and something warm drops into Micah’s stomach and for a second he can’t feel the cold nipping at his fingertips.
“It’s snowing,” Adam repeats, as though Micah can’t tell by the flakes melting against his skin and settling in his hair.
“Yeah, that’s what it’s called when water freezes and falls from the sky,” Micah replies, but Adam isn’t listening, tilting his head to stare up again. Sighing, Micah reaches out for him, fingers wrapping around his cold hand. “Come on.”
“It never snows,” Adam says, looking back at Micah, and Micah shakes his head, trying to tug him back inside where it’s warm.
“Yeah, it does. You just haven’t lived here that long. Let’s go in before we freeze to death.”
Adam pauses, and Micah knows it’s coming before Adam even opens his mouth, a smirk working at the corner, and Adam turns towards him, sliding his arms over his shoulders.
“I know what we could do,” Adam says slowly, meeting Micah’s soft brown eyes, a devious twinkle there. Leaning in, he slides closer, bringing their mouths together slowly. His hand glides up the back of Micah’s neck, pushing into his thick hair as he kisses him deliberately, ignoring the cold prick of snowflakes hitting his skin as they stand there in the middle of the front lawn. “You could fuck me right here,” he whispers, and Micah laughs, breath fogging before him, brushing away a snowflake that lands on Adam’s cheek.
“You little exhibitionist,” he says, shaking his head, and Adam bites his lip, giving Micah a look that’s far too innocent for his twenty-seven years of age.
“What?” he asks, nipping at Micah’s jaw and sucking at the skin lightly as Micah sighs, hugging him closer in the cold.
“One, it’s Christmas morning,” Micah replies but lets Adam continue pressing kisses to his neck. “Two, it’s absolutely freezing out here, and three, we’re on the front lawn.”
Adam pauses, nose wrinkling as he thinks, and then he stretches up to reach the same height as Micah and brushes a snowflake off the end of his nose.
“We could move it to the backyard,” he says finally, and Micah only rolls his eyes, stealing a quick kiss before pushing him down.
“We could move it inside where there’s a nice, warm fireplace, gifts to open, and coffee to drink.”
Adam’s put-out look is enough for Micah to sigh and wrap an arm around his waist as he leads the way back to the front door.
“I’ll make you a hot cocoa-coffee mix,” he says as they climb the snowy steps of the porch. “How about that?”
“With a candy cane?” Adam asks doubtfully, and Micah can’t help the smile as he adjusts the wreath on the outside of the door and herds Adam in ahead of him.
“Of course.”
*
Micah works a lot, and sometimes, Adam feels as if he hardly even sees him let alone lives with him. Micah gets up before him and gets home after him, dropping his briefcase by the door and sliding bonelessly into the closest chair. He spends hours on the weekends shut up in the study, and only when Adam barges in and announces they’re doing something does he come out.
It’s gotten better over the last year, ever since Micah finally made junior partner in the firm. The hours have gotten shorter, but he still comes home later than Adam. Micah swears it’ll get even better once he makes senior partner. He also swears he loves his job when Adam asks about it late at night when Micah can barely keep his eyes open to answer.
Adam accepts the answer. There’s not much be could do if he didn’t. He just tries his best to make sure Micah doesn’t turn into a complete cynic like the rest of his lawyer colleagues.
Micah takes his coffee black, which Adam can’t stand, but he leans back against the kitchen counter and watches Micah make it exactly as he always does. Strains of Christmas music filter in from the living room and the stereo there, and Adam taps his fingers against the marble countertops.
The coffee percolates in the corner and Micah looks up from his search for the right mugs, catching Adam staring boredly at the floor tiles and the small, blue flower pattern that borders each one.
“Impatient?” he asks and Adam glances up, shaking his head.
“No,” he replies with a smile. “Just thinking.”
Micah raises a cautious eyebrow, stepping closer as the coffee brews, the smell filling the kitchen and mixing with the apple-cinnamon that has permeated the house since November.
“About what?”
Adam shrugs. “Nothing.” He smiles as Micah steps closer, boxing him in against the counter. “Just how much I love Christmas.”
“It’s just another day,” Micah says plainly, leaning in and brushing a kiss against Adam’s lower lip.
“No, it’s not,” Adam argues. “It’s a magical day.”
Micah doesn’t laugh, but he wants to. Instead, he leans in for another, longer kiss. Adam’s lips are soft and warm now that he’s not standing out in the snow, and Adam returns the kiss, like he always does, always has.
“Don’t you remember we met on Christmas?” Adam murmurs as Micah crowds him in closer to the counter, running a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth down the edges.
“Of course,” Micah replies softly, kissing away what else he might have added. “Although it was Christmas Eve, not Christmas day.”
“Same difference,” Adam mumbles, wrapping his arms around Micah’s neck and arching up into him as Micah bites his bottom lip and sucks slowly, humming against his mouth.
The coffee percolates under the cover of soft Christmas music, and Adam chases after Micah’s tongue and pushes his hips up against Micah’s in a slow rhythm, moaning softly when Micah nudges him back against the counter.
“You,” Adam says when the kiss breaks and he attempts to catch his breath, forehead pressed against Micah’s. “You could fuck me right here.”
Micah’s mouth curves in a small smile before he captures Adam’s lips again in a softer kiss and pulls away slowly.
“Later,” he says, pressing a kiss to Adam’s cheek before turning to check on the coffee and Adam frowns slightly at his back.
*
The fire crackles in the grate, flames dancing merrily, casting light over the desecration of wrapping paper scattered over the floor. Ribbons, bows, and tags all make up the mess that spreads from the fireplace, past the tree, and to the edge of the couch where Micah is stretched out, feet on the coffee table and coffee mug in his hand as Adam sits beside him reading the back of a book he just finished unwrapping.
“Not bad,” Adam says as he sets down the book and glances at the pile of gifts on the table before them. “Although there was no puppy or Mercedes.”
“Since when did you want a Mercedes?” Micah asks, sipping his coffee and nudging a stack of DVDs with his toe. He’s pretty sure Adam has wanted a puppy since he was five years old, so he doesn’t even need to ask that question.
Turning to him, Adam steals his coffee, making a face as he takes a sip. He sets it down on the coffee table instead and snuggles in against Micah, pleased when Micah’s arm falls around his shoulders.
“Since I not-so-casually hinted about it forever,” he replies. “I gave you that brochure.”
“Subtlety is not your forte,” Micah murmurs, dropping a kiss to the top of his head while Adam sighs.
“Well, you’ve always known that,” he says simply, dropping his hand to rest against Micah’s thigh.
“Mmm,” Micah hums, reaching for his coffee again and watching the fire pop with a short noise. “The first time we met, you were trying to get in that guy’s pants - what was his name? - and you ‘tripped’ under the mistletoe. What was it you said? That since you fell, it meant you had to fuck instead of kiss?”
“Taylor,” Adam replies simply, squeezing Micah’s thigh lightly. “And I can’t believe you remember that. I was such an idiot.”
“Was?” Micah repeats playfully, and Adam hits him gently.
“Shut up,” he mutters, but he’s not embarrassed. It’s been too long for him to be embarrassed about what he was doing when they met. He may have been going after someone else, but he ended up with Micah, and he can’t say he’s disappointed.
“You know, this is our third Christmas,” Micah points out, and Adam smiles, glancing up at him.
“I thought it was ‘just another day’?”
“It is. You know how I feel about holidays.”
Adam laughs, pushing himself up so that he can climb into Micah’s lap, straddling his legs and settling down. “Yeah, corporate greed and all that, so says the lawyer.”
Micah gives Adam a look, eyes too skeptical, too old for how old he really is. Micah’s eyes have always been Adam’s favorite, like they know something no one else does. Despite Micah’s claim of being a hardened lawyer, his eyes give away his heart, and Adam loves that about him.
“I know,” Adam murmurs in response to Micah’s look, leaning in to kiss him.
Christmas has always been Adam’s favorite holiday, and it doesn’t hurt that he met Micah on it too. He supposes that’s what happens when you’re in a new city for the holidays and don’t know anyone except for your eccentric coworkers who have ugly sweater-themed holiday parties and invite the lonely, new guy, who then proceeds to get drunk and change everyone’s opinion of him being the quiet one. Sierra always says that’s when she knew she’d made the right decision in hiring him.
He loves Christmas because it always makes him feel safe and like no matter what’s wrong with the world or his life, there will always be one day where it doesn’t matter. Ever since he was a kid, it’s been like that. During college, he’d always look forward to going home for the holidays. His parents had always waited to put up the Christmas tree until he got home, his mom waiting to make the Christmas cookies until he was there to help decorate them.
Christmas away from home had been hard the first time, but it’s three years later and it’s not so bad now that he’s got Micah. Maybe next year he can convince Micah to take time off work and head west to visit his parents for the holidays. It’s a long shot, given Micah’s feelings on holidays, but Adam is confident he can persuade him one way or another.
“I love you,” is the whisper Adam catches as he sucks on Micah’s neck, sliding his hands over his bare chest since Micah still hasn’t bothered to get dressed.
Nipping at the skin, Adam kisses down to Micah’s collar bone and pushes his hips in against Micah’s. “You too,” he mumbles, tracing the bone with his tongue slowly, feeling Micah shift underneath him. Smiling to himself, he slides his hands down, plucking at the waist of Micah’s boxers.
It’s already nine in the morning, and outside the snow is still falling thickly, big, fat flakes swirling down from the sky. Inside it’s warm and toasty, and Adam doesn’t ask Micah again but thrusts his hips against Micah’s gently, seeking out his mouth and using his slight advantage of height as he straddles him on the couch.
Micah’s hands are on Adam’s waist, strong and warm as they slide underneath the loose hoodie, fingers idly tracing his spine. He opens his mouth to Adam, sliding their lips together, not gasping as Adam bites his bottom lip and tilts his head down as he runs his tongue over the spot seconds later.
Adam presses closer, wanting more, wanting to lose himself in Micah, and he feels Micah’s contented hum. Kissing him harder, he takes the control, wrapping his fingers around Micah’s wrist and pulling his hand down from where it rests against his back.
“Micah,” he murmurs against his mouth, guiding Micah’s hand down to where he wants it, pressed against his cock, giving him all the incentive he needs. He’s getting harder every second he waits, biting at Micah’s mouth, gliding his free hand into Micah’s shaggy hair, uncombed and still messy from sleep.
Micah’s hand presses against his prick and Adam moans softly, needing more, wanting what he promised Micah so early this morning.
Micah breaks the kiss first, pulling away from where Adam pants lightly, eyes flicking up to his. His hand is cupping Adam through his boxers, but he moves it away after a second.
“I’m gonna get more coffee,” Micah says, giving Adam a nudge off of him, and Adam can’t do anything but stare as Micah climbs up from the couch, leaving him behind. “You want anything?”
Adam doesn’t reply, and Micah takes it as a no as he heads for the kitchen.
Confused, Adam slumps back against the couch with a small huff. The fire is burning lower and the Christmas CD is on repeat for the third time. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. Micah hardly ever turns down sex unless he’s particularly exhausted after work, but it’s a holiday. It’s a special occasion. Technically, it’s sort of an anniversary if you think of it that way.
Miffed, Adam can’t understand, and he stares at the fire instead, trying to figure it out but he comes up with nothing that could explain Micah’s behavior. All he can do is frown at the fireplace, doubt and suspicion growing, and by the time Micah returns with a mug full of steaming coffee, Adam isn’t much in a holiday mood.
“Ahh, better,” Micah says with a sigh as he sits back down on the couch. Adam doesn’t reply, lips pressing together, and crossing his arms slowly. It takes a second before Micah finishes sipping his coffee and glances at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” Adam replies simply, glancing at his feet and the puffy, blue slippers he bought last week on a whim. Micah said they were idiotic but Micah says that about a lot of things Adam owns. When they’d first moved in together, half of Adam’s things had to be fought over. They’d compromised when Adam had called him a neurotic clean-freak and threatened to throw his orchid plant out the window.
Micah isn’t fooled for a second by Adam as they sit there. Setting down his coffee, he turns to Adam.
“Adam,” he says plainly, and in that one word is enough guilting and coercion to make Adam sigh and look away. “Adam, baby, come on. What’s wrong?”
Somehow, Adam always gets painted as the immature one when Micah is barely two years older than him. Just because Micah has a steady, respectable job as a lawyer and Adam spends most of his time whiling free cheese and wine out of vendors for showings at an art gallery, people think he’s less responsible and therefore less mature. Sometimes he feels like it too, especially when Micah gives him that sigh and that look.
“Why don’t you want to fuck?” Adam asks bluntly after a minute. As Micah said, subtlety was never his forte.
“What?” Micah asks, sounding confused, but Adam knows he’s not.
Turning back to him, arms still crossed, he meets Micah’s eyes obstinately. “That’s the third time today you’ve stopped it or said no or just walked away. Don’t ask what’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with you?”
“Adam,” Micah starts, but Adam shakes his head to stem the useless explanation.
“You don’t get to use your hatred of organized religion and holidays as an excuse this time. Christmas is supposed to be a fun holiday to spend with people you love, and who cares about what else it’s about?”
“I know you love Christmas,” Micah starts again, and Adam interrupts with a scoff and another shake of his head. “But you know what Christmas is for me.”
Adam shouldn’t roll his eyes, but he does. “I tried to change that for you,” he says, “but you just don’t want to believe that you can change what it means. Christmas sucked as a kid for you, I get that, but you’re not a kid anymore. You’re almost twenty-nine and you’ve got me, so I don’t see why you always have to ruin these things. Ruining them doesn’t make it any better.”
Micah doesn’t reply for a minute, inspecting his coffee cup where it sits on the coffee table, and Adam huffs.
He’s never really understood Micah’s dislike of holidays, and although he tries to be sympathetic about it, he can’t see the point of ruining them for others.
“Baby,” Micah says finally, and Adam doesn’t look at him, staring resolutely at the Christmas tree and the single light that’s out near the bottom branches. He’s not going to let Micah talk his way out of this like he talks his way out of everything. Sometimes, Adam hates that he’s dating a very good lawyer. “This isn’t about Christmas.”
“No,” Adam snaps. “It’s about you and your issues.”
“My issues?” Micah repeats skeptically. “You started a fight because I said no to sex.”
“It’s Christmas!” Adam exclaims. “Who says no to sex on Christmas?”
“Why does it have to be about Christmas?” Micah asks, and Adam glares at the Christmas tree.
“Because that’s what today is and I don’t want mine ruined.”
“And not having sex ruins that?” Micah asks, but Adam isn’t listening, turning sharply at another sound that reaches his ear. It’s a high-pitched noise that sounds like a cross between a squeak and a yelp.
“What was that?” he asks suspiciously.
“What?”
The noise comes again, and Adam pushes himself up from the couch. “That.”
Micah’s nose wrinkles, skeptical. “What are you talking about?”
“That noise,” Adam says, listening hard as it comes again. “It’s coming from the garage.”
He leaves Micah without a backwards glance. No one ever said he had a long attention span either.
It’s cold in the garage when he opens the door and sticks his head in. It’s dark and he can’t see much but he’s still listening for the sound, which comes louder and more readily now that the door is open. It’s sort of a whimpering whine that sounds suspiciously non-human.
Flicking on the light, he’s greeted with a sharp bark to his left and he turns, mouth falling open, as his eyes land on a large metal cage, inside of which is a small, brown and white speckled puppy, short tail wagging furiously as Adam stares down at it. It jumps up on the cage door, whining and yipping at him, clearly desperate for attention.
“What the…” Adam mutters, bending down, fingers hooking in the metal bars and the puppy jumps up, licking at them enthusiastically.
“He probably needs a walk.”
Adam’s head jerks up to Micah in the doorway, a leash dangling from his hand.
“What?” Adam repeats stupidly, and the puppy barks at both of them, overexcited and impatient. “Oh my God.”
“Go on,” Micah says, handing him the leash and reaching down to unlatch the cage.
The puppy bursts out of it, attacking Adam’s legs, jumping up on him, little paws scratching at his legs. Adam doesn’t know what to do for a second but then he’s scooping up the puppy and hugging it, glee overcoming his face.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, unable to believe this is really happening, but the puppy is there and Micah isn’t taking it away.
“You might want to take him out back before he pees all over your shirt,” Micah says, and Adam nods without even thinking.
“Oh fuck, yeah.”
He hurries past Micah, the struggling puppy in his arms, still trying its best to lick his face. He gets it to the back yard without incident and lets it flop into the several inches of snow. He can only stare as it frolics through the snow, leaving tiny paw prints behind it. It comes back several times to jump at him and lick his fingers.
Adam doesn’t know what to think. A puppy is one of the few things he’d been sure he would never have. As a child, his mom had been allergic so they’d been a strictly cat and sometimes goldfish household. He’d always thought once he had his own apartment he’d get a dog, but by the time he finally had a steady job in one place, he’d met Micah, who wouldn’t even have a goldfish messing up his house. He’d given up the dream of ever having a dog, yet here he is playing with a little puppy in the backyard on Christmas morning.
He laughs as the dog trips over its own feet and falls face first into a pile of snow. Its tail is still working hard and it bounds back to him immediately, pressing its cold nose into his hand. As it shivers, Adam scoops it up into his arms and turns to the sliding glass door.
Micah stands on the other side, coffee mug in hand, and when Adam meets his gaze, he turns and heads back towards the living room.
Adam can feel his heart sinking as he watches Micah disappear. The puppy shivers in his arms again, whining slightly, and he makes his way towards the warmth of the house. Once inside, he grabs a bowl from the cupboard and fills it with water, knowing Micah would probably cringe to see a dog drinking from their bowls.
He leaves the puppy lapping at the bowl and creeps to the living room. Micah is sitting on the couch, his black, square-framed glasses on as he reads the back of the DVD boxes and sips his coffee. As Adam watches, Micah pushes his glasses up and turns the box over.
Gathering his courage, Adam leaves the doorway and heads over the couch. He sits down next to Micah, who is still reading the DVD cover.
“Hey,” he says lamely, and Micah sets down the DVD, turning to look at him.
“Hi.”
He doesn’t look away and Adam can’t help feeling like a jerk. The puppy trundles into the room from the kitchen, making an immediate beeline for Adam’s feet where it collapses as though the whole five minutes of excitement has tired it out for the entire day.
“I’m sorry,” Adam says in a rush, wondering how he could have possibly become such an insensitive idiot. To his surprise, Micah smiles, sliding an arm around his neck and pulling him in closer, kissing his cheek despite his shocked expression.
“It’s okay,” Micah says and Adam frowns.
“What do you mean it’s okay? I was an insensitive jerk, on Christmas no less.”
Micah is still smiling and he huffs a small sigh into Adam’s hair. “You’re not insensitive. You were justified in what you said, although you were wrong on a few counts.”
“Stop being all lawyer-y,” Adam mumbles, still feeling dumb. “You didn’t ruin Christmas. I did.”
“No, you didn’t,” Micah assures him, smoothing down his hair. “I’ve had plenty of ruined Christmases, trust me. And none of them were ever with you.”
Sighing, Adam leans into him, watching the puppy twitch in its sleep. “Did you actually get me a puppy?”
“No,” Micah says, and Adam glances up at him, confused. “I got us a puppy.” Adam smiles as Micah kisses his cheek again. “You didn’t think all those years of you making ridiculous faces every time we passed a dog went unnoticed? So I went to the animal shelter and picked out this little guy. They said he’s part Jack Russel and part something else. They weren’t sure since the litter was abandoned by the side of the road and someone brought them in.”
“You got him from a pound?” Adam asks, more and more incredulous. Micah is the type to do meticulous research, especially on something like a dog that they’ll have for years. He can’t imagine him just walking into a shelter and picking out an unknown breed that will grow to an unknown size and have God knows what tendencies.
“He reminded me of you,” Micah replies, and Adam isn’t sure it’s a compliment, but he accepts it anyway.
“And where were you hiding him this whole time?” he asks curiously. He’s pretty sure he would have noticed a puppy around the house.
“Sierra kept him at her house this week and snuck him in sometime this morning. I gave her a key to the side door. Remind me to thank her tonight at the party.”
Adam stares at him for a second, and Micah arches an eyebrow, glasses slipping down to the end of his nose.
“You did all of this… for me?” he asks finally, and Micah shrugs noncommittally.
“You do love Christmas.”
“Micah,” he says seriously, and Micah sighs, tipping Adam’s mouth to his for a kiss. Adam’s eyes close for the extended moment, opening slowly as Micah pulls back.
“You love Christmas,” Micah replies seriously. “And I love you, and maybe that makes me like Christmas too… but only a little.”
Adam’s face breaks into a grin. “So will you fuck me now?”
Micah gives him a look. “Not with the puppy watching.”
“Neurotic,” Adam says, still grinning as he pounces on Micah, pushing him back against the couch and leaning in for a long, slow kiss that leaves them both a little breathless. Pulling off the hoodie, he sinks into Micah, plucking off his glasses and setting them down on the coffee table.
“We should at least close the curtains,” Micah says as Adam goes for his neck.
“Or wait until the puppy is delivered so Sierra doesn’t barge in and interrupt?” Adam says, putting things together, and he can’t believe he was so stupid.
“I told her I’d sue her if she came in and ruined the surprise.”
“But she’s never been good at following directions,” Adam finishes. He’s had plenty of experience with that, mainly telling her he thought Micah was the hottest guy he’d ever seen and then two days later getting a curious phone call from Micah himself about the fact. He could have killed her, but then, she was his boss after all and one of Micah’s oldest friends.
“Nope,” Micah agrees, sliding his hand up Adam’s back and pulling him in closer, mouth centimeters away. “So yeah.” He smiles at Adam, bringing their mouths together for a moment, sweet and soft. “I will.”
“Finally,” Adam breathes and he kisses away Micah’s grin while the puppy twitches on the floor and outside, the snow drifts past, settling onto the ground and muffling the sound of the world.
*
FIN.