#theres no plot

Cynthia and Larry are Christmas shopping and Zoe is at a jazz band concert out of town.  Cynthia and Larry are Christmas shopping and Zoe is at a jazz band concert out of town. Cynthia and Larry are Christmas shopping and Zoe is at a jazz band concert out of town.

Evan repeats this little mantra to himself as he walks to the Murphy house's doorstep.  It isn't weird showing up at Connor's house at eight o'clock at night when it's already dark because Connor is the only one there, he decides.  It's not like this was unplanned, either, not like it was just a spontaneous decision to drive miles from his house to watch Hallmark movies with Connor.  But despite knowing the Murphys aren't home and that even if they were home, they knew he was coming over, Evan still sends Connor an "im here" text instead of knocking on the door.  There's a chance that Zoe got sick and had to skip the concert, or Mr. Murphy didn't get as big a holiday bonus as he was expecting and couldn't go shopping, or Mrs. Murphy was busy baking cookies or something equally Mrs. Murphy-ish.  So Evan is content to stand in the snow, hoping Connor got his text.  

It doesn't take long before Evan is standing in the foyer, yanking his boots off while Connor smiles and shuffles aimlessly around the kitchen after planting a kiss on Evan's forehead.  As Evan pulls off his coat, he watches Connor open the freezer door, stare blankly, then shut it, only to curse and open it again to pull out a gallon of milk. Evan walks over and leans on the island to watch as Connor pours them both mugs of milk.  Evan's about to thank him when Connor sticks the mugs in the microwave.

"You're making, uh, warm milk?"  Evan throws a meaningless gesture to the microwave, now humming its droning tune.  Connor shakes his head, reaching to the top of the cabinet.

"Hot chocolate."  He pulls a tin of the powder off the shelf and places it gently on the counter, only to pull open a drawer as hard as possible.  "I hate warm milk. It's like drinking it straight out of the cow."

Evan smiles, watching Connor precisely measure a fourth-cup of hot chocolate powder.  "Gross."

"Exactly." 

The microwave beeps, prompting a glare from Connor, who is still focused on measuring exactly the right amount of hot chocolate.  Evan removes the mugs instead and sets them down in front of Connor.  

"There's a very specific way to do this," Connor says, almost to himself.  "You have to measure the right amount of the ingredients or else the final product will taste weird."

Evan nods solemnly.  "Just like bread."

"Just like bread."

Gently, carefully, Connor pours the powder into the milk.  "Mix that up," he tells Evan as he starts the next cup.

Soon the hot chocolate is done, and Connor has thrown himself into the armchair in front of the fireplace.  Evan takes a sip from his drink and sits down on the couch.

"No," Connor says.

"W-what?"

"Get over here and cuddle with me."  He places his mug on the end table next to him and opens his arms.  "It wouldn't be a Hallmark marathon if we weren't being gross and sappy too."

Evan obliges, collapsing into the chair next to Connor, glad for the invitation.  Physical affection isn't something Evan is used to, and even though they've been dating for over a month he still isn't sure how to initiate contact without feeling weird or clingy.  Luckily, Connor is always happy to be the one to grab Evan's hand in public, or tug him into corners to kiss him like the world's about to end, or tell him to, well, "get over here and cuddle with me."

Evan, of course, does his fair share too, but it's more subtle, although he's certain Connor notices it.  He enjoys folding paper birds with little messages written inside and leaving them where he knows Connor will find them.  He links his pinky finger with Connor's under the table when they have dinner with the Murphys or his mom. And right now, Evan throws his legs on top of Connor's and drops his head onto Connors chest, the most physical affection he's shown since the first time they kissed, when Evan was the one to initiate it.  

Immediately, Connor's hand is in his hair and Evan's freaking out a little.  It's not like Connor's never touched his hair, but it's never been as quiet or domestic as this.  He's almost petting him and it feels so nice that Evan wants to fall asleep.

"What movie do you wanna watch?"  Connor's voice is nearly a whisper in Evan's ear.  

"Doesn't matter,"  Evan mumbles back. "Uh, preferably something I don't have to, um, pay a lot of attention to."

"Why's that?"  Connor's hand falls from Evan's hair to the back of his neck, where he traces little circles under his ear.

"Uh, 'cause you- um, I'd rather be, uh, I'd rather watch you."  Evan glances up on the last word and holy shit his eyes are so pretty.

Evan's marvelled at Connor's eyes before, but they somehow look even prettier by the fire, with the orange glow reflecting off them.  Connor smiles and his hands are on the sides of Evan's face and he says, "Me too."

And Evan's kissing him.  He feels Connor smile. His brain short-circuits.

Connor's lips taste of hot chocolate and he smells like smoke.  Evan can feel a little bolt of lightning everywhere Connor's fingertips touch.  He swings his weight over so he's sitting in Connor's lap and, betraying every part of his brain telling him not to, that it's stupid, he giggles against Connor's mouth.

Connor pulls back just far enough to look Evan in the eye and says, "You're adorable."  Then he kisses Evan again. 

They hear the door swing open and fly apart to see Zoe, lugging her guitar gase.

"Hey, Connor," she says, and then, even though Evan knows she knows his name, "Hey, Connor's boyfriend."