#qeued

4, hidden bunches of mistletoe

Matty likes hosting, he really does. He like seeing the people he loves all happy in one space, likes seeing them all in his space. The Christmas tree has gained a few ornaments, though, and if Matty looks, he can catch glimpses of unfamiliar wrapping paper. It warms his heart, that, to think that the people he loves love him just the same, so much so that they leave tokens of their affection after the party is over.

What Matty doesn't love is the clean up, and there's a lot of clean up, this time. There are glasses everywhere, most of it the spare glassware Matty drags out only when he and George host, and empty bottles and dishes almost everywhere he turns. As soon as the last person is out the door, Matty busies himself ferrying glasses and dishes into the kitchen to load in the dishwasher. He supposes he could wait, maybe deal with everything in the morning or go find George for a smoke or just a soft touch before he starts, but he hates it when things are mess. It puts his anxiety into overdrive when things are messy, even though he's gotten better at managing it over the years.

He has the glasses and dishes about halfway taken care of when George reappears from wherever he'd been, smelling like his cologne and weed. Matty thinks he should maybe be a little bit insulted that George didn't invite him to share the joint he's clearly just had, but he's been smoking less weed lately, mostly to remind himself that he can, and he'd drunk his fill of wine over the course of the evening.

Matty offers George a smile and a hand on his bicep for a moment as he goes through the kitchen with empty hands, on his way to collect another round of dishes. George is still right where he was when Matty comes back though the kitchen, watching with a soft smile.

"C'mere," George says, catching Matty's hip as he goes to keep cleaning up.

"'m cleaning up, G," Matty protests, but it's a weak protest because Matty has never been able to resist George touching him.

"I know," George murmurs, "just take a minute, yeah?"

Matty nods and lets George walk him into the living room, where a carefully curated playlist of holiday music is still playing. George rests one hand on Matty's hip and the other in the middle of his back, warm through the thin material of his shirt since he took of his suit jacket when the guests left, so Matty drapes his arms over George's shoulders and lets George lead as they sway to the quiet music.

"Love you lots," Matty murmurs, quiet so as to not disturb the careful peace they've created.

George smiles. "Love you, too."

Matty doesn't say anything else, just rests his head against George's chest and continues to sway, following George's little steps until they've made it to a doorway and George stops moving. Matty glances up to see a bundle of foliage hung above their heads.

"Is that mistletoe?" Matty asks.

George nods. "You know what we have to do, right?"

Matty offers a nod and a smile, but he says, "You know you don't need an excuse to kiss me."

"'s in the holiday spirit," George responds, moving his hand from Matty's hip to cup his jaw for a moment, looking at him with something like awe. Then he drops his hand back to Matty's hip and pulls him in for a kiss.

They kiss for a long time, slow and gentle but deep, like they'd like to meld into one being, and Matty has to admit that this is much better than cleaning up the remains of the holiday party. George tastes like weed and cigarettes and wine and Matty loves him. Matty loves that George hung mistletoe in their house for an excuse to kiss when he knew Matty would be obsessing about cleaning up. Matty loves that the person he loves is someone who loves him just the same and Matty wants to do everything for him. Fortunately, Matty knows he has their rest of their life to do it. He can't wait.

----

8, iced sugar cookies

Matty never had these kinds of Christmas traditions. He's always had good holidays and never doubted that he was loved and wanted, but he's never had these kinds of traditions. In fact, he's looked at George a little bit like he was suggesting something entirely alien when he'd invited Matty to come decorate Christmas cookies. George had been quick to offer some kind of explanation, saying that his family always makes Christmas cookies and his sisters will be home with their partners and he doesn't want to be the odd man out so to speak so, if Matty wants, George wants him to come. These days, Matty is quick to accept any kind of invitation from George, especially one that allows him to pretend, even for just a moment, that they're more than friends, so here he is, knocking on George's front door to spend the evening decorating sugar cookies.

It's George who answers the door. He's wearing a (very) ugly Christmas sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and Matty is sure he's never seen anything more endearing. He wants to step close and sneak a quick kiss before George's family can notice, but he doesn't. He's not sure if he's allowed to, not sure if George would even want that, so he just steps inside and takes off his coat and shoes, the follows George into the kitchen.

The space is busy and full of people Matty's never met and he's still not sure on names after a round of quick introductions. That's fine, though, he figures. After all, he's here because he wants to be close to George, everyone else be damned. He does get to be close to George, because he finds himself being herded to a seat at the dining table, which is laden with cookies and bowls of colorful frosting and sprinkles, and a few moments after he sits down, George takes the seat next to him and sets two mugs of tea on the table in front of them.

Matty doesn't get a chance to say anything before George's mum instructs them all to pose for a photo, then there's a mad rush for particular cookie shapes and frosting colors. Matty ends up with a Christmas tree shaped cookie and yellow frosting, which he trades to one of George's sisters for green so that she can make her star shaped cookie yellow and his tree can be green. Next to him, George has a candy cane shaped cookie that's becoming a combination of white and pink. George seems pleased with it, so Matty doesn't comment on the color scheme, just focuses on his own cookie.

After Matty finishes with his cookie and sets it on the tray in the middle of them table, George leans over to bump their shoulders together and asks, "Good?"

Matty nods. "We don't do stuff like this, ya'know," he mumbles. "I mean, I know they care, my parents, and they want me to be happy, but I never had these kinds of traditions."

George frowns at that, saying, "Well, you have it now."

"I have what?" Matty asks, reaching for another cookie, this one shaped like a bell, mostly so he doesn't have to meet George's earnest gaze.

"You have this tradition now," George clarifies. "You have making Christmas cookies with family now."

Matty sniffs and reaches for the closest bowl of frosting, blue, to spread it over his sugar cookie, doing his best to focus and not cry.

"You have to know you're my family, Matty," George adds.

Matty sniffles again, casting his gaze around the room, at the filling tray of colorfully frosted sugar cookies, at the happy people, at George. George who looks at Matty like he matters enough to be a part of a tradition. Matty tries to blink back his tears, unwilling to make a scene here, and asks, "I am?"

"I love you, Matty," George says, a little bit concerned. "What are you if not family?"

Matty shrugs. "I don't know. I don't know."

"'s ok," George murmurs. "No need to cry now, we'll go for a walk and get stoned when we're done here and you can cry as much as you need to, yeah?"

Matty nods. "Love you, too," he says quietly. "Sorry 'm like this, I just didn't know this is what it's like to do things like this."

"'m gonna show you what it's like," George promises. "You're gonna be sick and tired of stilly holiday traditions when I'm done. We'll be old men and you'll be begging me not to start."

Matty laughs. "I can't wait," he says, and he really can't. He wants every silly, clichéd thing with George for the rest of his life.

----

33, fuzzy socks

The socks are green and red and honestly, they're a little bit ugly, but Matty loves them and immediately puts two pairs into his shopping basket, one for him and one for George. Maybe that's too much, he thinks, maybe they're approaching being a sickeningly sweet, cliché kind of couple with matching socks, but he also thinks that they've been through too much not to be sickeningly sweet and a little bit cliché. He'll put them in their stockings, Matty decides. George is always complaining that his feet are cold and Matty runs cold in general, so it'll be perfect.

When Christmas Eve does finally roll around, Matty waits until George is soundly asleep then climbs out of bed to go fill George's stocking and make sure things are as he wants them for the morning. He fills George's stocking full of things he's been collecting all year as they've been around the world, favorites from home, and of course, the fluffy socks, sticking out of the top of the stocking. Matty keeps the pair he'd gotten himself back, not willing to show his hand like that, but in the end, he's pretty pleased with it. He knows he'll probably be up first to make coffee and coax George out of bed, so he'll leave his own socks in his stocking when he gets up in the morning.

Maybe it's a little bit silly to be so concerned about keeping a pair of socks secret, but Matty likes them and he wants to see the way George will smile all fond and soft when he realizes that Matty got them matching socks. Matty loves that expression, loves making George smile, loves seeing George look at him with fondness.

When Matty's done with George's stocking, he goes back to bed. About fifteen minutes after he's come back to bed, he feels George get up and he does his best to pretend to be asleep, lest George worry about him. Matty's pretty sure he's unconvincing--he's never been good at faking anything to George--but George doesn't say anything, just rests his hand on Matty's bicep for a moment, then goes. Matty falls asleep before he gets back.

In the morning, Matty finds that his best laid plans have been foiled because the bed is already empty and he can smell coffee. He'd be annoyed about his plans, but it's hard to be anything other than content when he wakes to a house he shares with the person he loves in a cozy bed to the smell of fresh coffee, so, after taking a few minutes to get a little bit ready for the day, he simply pulls on the socks and decides he'll wait for George to notice.

Matty finds the hardwood flooring in the kitchen is a little bit slick with his fuzzy socks and he has to be careful not to slip and make a mess when George hands him a cup of coffee and offers a quiet 'good morning.' Matty takes it with quiet thanks and they stay there for a minute before migrating into the living room, where Matty can't help but urge George to start going through his stocking. Matty goes through his, too, but he keeps on eye on George, waiting for him to make the connection.

Matty isn't more than halfway through his stocking before George looks up at him to ask, "Did you really get us matching fuzzy socks?" Matty grins and nods. "It's horrible and cliché and we are absolutely that couple," he says. "And they're cozy."

George laughs. "You're ridiculous and I love you."