#they!!

“I see you staring,” Sweetheart said, a smirk creeping onto their face.

“Says the person with their shirt almost completely off,” Milo scoffed. “What do you expect from me, Sweetheart, look at you!” “I expect for you to be able to keep it in your pants for more than—” they glanced at the clock, taking some careful steps towards him “—five minutes.”

“Hard to, around you,” Milo shrugged. He reached out, dragging Sweetheart to him once they were close enough. Their hands didn’t hesitate before finding his shoulders, a giddy smile on their face. “I haven’t gotten a welcome home kiss yet, by the way. In case you were worried.”

“Kinda busy when you got home,” Sweetheart defended.

“You could always make it up to me,” Milo suggested, lilt in his voice as he leaned closer to them.

They rolled their eyes, closing the distance between them. Milo groaned, melting into it. The past few days have been busy for the both of them, and it didn’t give Milo the chance to hold them like this. If he could stop time to stay here, he would in a heartbeat. 

Milo pulled Sweetheart flush against him as their arms wrapped around his neck, hands playing in his hair softly. There was the smallest noise of concern from Sweetheart when their hands started to slide down and reached his shoulders, likely reacting to the way he involuntarily flinched at the pressure on his sore muscles. They pulled back, only to be chased by Milo.

“Mi,” they said gently, tilting their head so that his next attempt at kissing them missed and landed on their jawline. “When you said you were just tired—”

“‘M fine,” Milo muttered against their skin.

“How much have you actually pushed yourself this week?” Sweetheart asked.

“Forget about it,” Milo said, peppering kisses down their neck. “Just need to hold you close. I’ll be okay.”

“Milo,” Sweetheart reprimanded, pushing against him lightly. He complied with a sigh, leaving a parting kiss in the junction of their neck and shoulder.

“I’m fine, Sweets,” he tried to argue. “Don’t gotta worry about me.”

The unimpressed look on Sweetheart’s face told him his arguments were useless. “And you complain about how pent up I get while at work,” they say, a teasing lilt to their voice.

“In my defence, how I am now is how you get after, like, two days,” Milo said, grinning, “at least I got through the week.”

“Down here,” Ava instructs, pointing to the left. Dani drives, because Ava has a gin advent calendar that they were three days behind on until this afternoon, and because he’s seen the delighted way they look at the simplest of house decorations and wants them to be able to enjoy it to the fullest. The directions are courtesy of Roy, who mapped out the area for them the week prior because they didn’t want to be spoiled before the drive; he invited Keeley along, and she reported that he was less than half-hearted in his reluctance. 

This is the last stop on their journey. It’s just past 11 at night, on a one-way street, so Dani doesn’t feel too bad about crawling along at less than ten miles per hour, and he reaches one hand across to get Ava’s attention from where they’re scanning Roy’s earlier messages. “Mi amor,” he says, fingers clumsily wrapping around two of theirs as he drives. He waits for them to turn to him before he points out of the windshield and says, “Roy did good.” 

Almost every house along this street is decorated, each with enough strings of lights and flashing decorations to make sure this little pocket of London is bright enough to outshine the streetlamps now struggling to do their jobs. Every fifth or sixth house has a little collection of inflatable figures in the front garden or on the driveway, and Ava wonders if they’re for the benefit of children or to spite neighbours on the street who might hate them. One of the houses has music playing faintly on a loop, though they can’t tell which one. 

When he hears their quick intake of breath he risks a glance over; if they weren’t strapped in and it wasn’t just over freezing outside, he’s sure the window would be open and they would be half out of it. It seems every one of the little white and yellow lights is reflected in Ava’s wide eyes, and they wear the grin that Dani knows they’ll say hurts if they smile too long. 

But it doesn’t stop them, and he smiles too. 

They hum contentedly. “Feels just like when I was a kid,” they sigh, before craning their neck for  a better view over a garden wall. It’s mostly true, only where they grew up didn’t have six-foot-tall garden walls, and the multi-coloured lights of the street they grew up on would probably be considered gaudy by an area like this. Still, it ignites something in them - the spirit that seemed harder to grasp every Christmas, that seemed to come later and later each year. They feel six years old again, in the passenger seat of their dad’s car and driving along the back roads to see the cottages all done up. 

It’s a childlike wonder that makes Dani nostalgic for when he was a child. He hasn’t done this in a long time, the patrol of a neighbourhood to see all the lights, and this is the first he’s done it since he came to England. It’s nothing like back in Guadalajara; it’s cold and wet and Ava’s skin is freezing against his own despite the heated air blasting at them, but he can feel a new tradition forming here and now. He wonders if there’s anyone driving past their house and admiring it, and if not what it would take to make it so impressive that they did. A project for next year, he decides. 

He hooks his fingers around Ava’s and pulls their knuckles against his lips, pressing a kiss against their ring finger. They turn back to him, unexpected emotion welling in their chest that they tackle back down; they’ll deal with that later, when they’re another gin down and in the comfort of their living room.

For now, they brush their thumb against his cheek and smile. “Thank you for doing this with me.”