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Tommy should’ve seen this coming. The blissful months together had to come to an end. He just didn’t expect it to be so abrupt or for this to be how it happened.
After Halloween, he really should’ve seen it coming.
In his living room, Evan stands between plastic storage boxes dragged from the garage where they’d lived untouched for months. Part of the seemingly endless stuff that came over from Evan’s loft when they decided to move in together.
“You have to be kidding right now.”
“Evan, why would I joke about this?”
“Because the other option is you’re telling the truth and that is unacceptable.”
“Unacceptable? Are you serious?”
His boyfriend sighs loudly and runs his hands through his hair. “Jesus.”
“It’s really not that big of a deal-” His words tail off when he gets a deadly glare. “If it means that much to you then-”
“It’s not about me! It’s about you!” Those big blue eyes are unbearably distraught. “You’re telling me you’ve lived here for however long and you have no Christmas decorations? Tommy, that’s so sad.”
For fuck’s sake.
“I’m fine, Evan, we weren’t Christmas people growing up and anyway-” He nudges one of the boxes. “I think you have more than enough.”
“To decorate my loft, yeah! This is a whole house! You have a yard!”
“It’s not a big-” Then he’s being pulled by a strong hand on his forearm. “Where-”
“Shopping! Obviously!”
Because he knows better, Tommy doesn’t fight his boyfriend’s manhandling, letting him drag him out to the Jeep, only pausing to pull some shoes and a jacket on. And even that earns him an impatient glare. They drive through quieter mid-morning traffic while Evan chats about Christmases in Hershey and how Maddie loved Christmas when he was little, and his heart swells fondly. Of course, Evan with his picket fence childhood in a state with four seasons thinks Christmas is the height of nostalgia. He imagines the Buckley family home as one of those Hallmark houses; double-fronted with neat shuttered windows and a porch, two cars on the drive, and a trampoline in the garden. Phillip and Margaret were teachers, but Tommy assumes they also bought a house in a quiet suburb in the early 80s when you could get on the property ladder by wearing a nice suit to the bank and saying please.
They park by a row of cutesy shops that are vaguely familiar to Tommy but it’s not a part of town he frequents often. Evan jumps out, grinning brightly and holds his hand out for Tommy.
“First, coffee.”
“Thank God.”
The cafe is sickeningly adorable, the front window decorated with an elaborate winter scene that LA would never naturally see; fluttering snowflakes, skiing snowmen, prancing reindeer, and Christmassy wreaths dotted around. Inside is snug, every inch crammed with mismatched furniture, honey-coloured wood and rustic finishes, but there’s coherency in the cosiness that Tommy appreciates. Immediately in front of them is the big glass cabinet that holds their baked goods. A plethora of comforting and decadent treats that their usual diet doesn’t allow but Evan’s eyes are glued to them, gaze jumping from label to label as he assesses the offerings.
“Hungry?”
“We could share? Which one would you go for?”
He scans the case carefully, but it’s the towering cakes that keep his attention. “Toffee nut cake, that’s festive, right?”
“Told you I knew what I was doing.”
Tommy jumps around at the sound of Eddie’s voice. His hands are full with a tray of drinks and he knocks his head toward the counter where another tray with plates sits, which Evan grabs.
“How-” Tommy begins but just shakes his head. There is no questioning when it comes to his boyfriends and their freakish link. Some days, when they come home from a 48-hour shift, he truly believes in telepathy. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Eddie grins, his eyes flicking to Tommy’s mouth. The motion is so quick, it’s easy for Tommy to convince himself it doesn’t happen but then Eddie’s throat bobs and he knows he’s swallowing that mixture of desire and shame of the desire and shame of the shame. Gently, he leans forward and kisses his cheek chastely, an arguably platonic greeting. “Shall we?”
They cram around a table in the window, their knees knocking in the snug space. Tinsel adorns the back of each chair and a paper Christmas tree sits in the middle of the table. Their drinks come in a hodge-podge of crockery and the heavy, ceramic mug Eddie slides over to Tommy is topped with a flurry of cream and an honest-to-god candy cane hooked over the edge. Eddie watches him as he takes his first sip, failing to pretend that he isn’t worried that he made the wrong choice.
“So, what am I in for?”
Eddie raises his eyebrows over his mug. “I keep forgetting this is your first Buckley Christmas. You might wanna consider picking up a couple of extra shifts-”
“Are you calling me a financial burden?”
“I’m calling him whipped.”
“Hey!” Tommy whines. “That’s-” Eddie tilts his head. “That’s fair, yeah.”
“I just want it to feel like Christmas. It’s the one time of the year we get to be all kitschy and tacky-” His boyfriends exchange a look, having just lived through Halloween with him, his sob story is not quite as convincing. “You guys are such humbugs.”
Tommy leans in and kisses away the cream at the edge of Evan’s mouth. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re adorable?”
“He never tires of hearing it, that’s for sure,” Eddie mumbles drily into his drink.
“Okay, okay, time out on the Buck abuse.”
Filled with cake and caffeine, Tommy lets Evan bounce ahead of them while he and Eddie stroll, shoulder to shoulder, behind him. It’s his favourite kind of winter day, bright and cloudless but cool enough to promise a chilly evening once the sun has gone down. Warmth radiates from Eddie and he wants nothing more than to thread his arm under his jacket and around his waist, but he settles for their hands brushing as they walk. It’s safe but comforting, just for them.
“Ta-da!” Evan sings as they round on the first shop front, somehow even more kitschy than the cafe.
“Seriously?”
Evan rolls his eyes and grabs Tommy’s hand. “Yes, we have serious work to do.”
“Just accept it, man,” Eddie laughs, clapping his hands on Tommy’s shoulders as he brings up the rear. When he doesn’t let go right away, Tommy leans back, just enough to press into his chest and he feels Eddie sigh against him.
The shop is packed with more Christmas shit than Tommy has ever seen outside of a Santa’s Grotto and it takes a few moments to get his bearings. But Evan is in his element, already showing Eddie brightly coloured baubles and talking a mile-a-minute, while the other man nods like it’s the first time he’s heard it. Tommy hangs back a little, making his own way through the buckets of tree decorations and garlands to try and find something to present back to Evan when he inevitably demands to see his choices.
It’s not that Tommy doesn’t like Christmas, it’s just not his holiday. Sure, it may be responsible for some of the best rom coms, but that’s why you watch films, to experience something real life doesn’t give you. Unlike most people, for Tommy, there are no fond memories of digging out decorations from the attic and putting up the tree to Christmas songs. His parents didn’t wear matching Christmas jumpers and dance around the living room, and there was no mountain of presents to eye up as the big day approached. Bouncing around the country, they lived in a perpetual state of moving boxes and not knowing anyone quite well enough to be included in holiday plans. Even on the army bases, he never got the hang of making fast friends like the other brats.
But, he thinks as he considers a delicate glass bauble frosted with sparkles, that was before. Across the room, he hears Evan’s bright laugh and watches Eddie’s fond gaze as they hold up tiny Nutcrackers and brightly coloured shapes that he can’t quite make out from here. Before them.
“Tommy!”
He follows his name obediently. “Wh- Is that a croissant?” His eyes graze over the boxes and he realises they’re all filled with miniature food items. “Evan-“
“Okay, picture this, a food-themed tree!”
“For the… kitchen?”
His boyfriend gives him a suffering glare. “Who has a kitchen tree?”
“Lots of people have more than one tree- Ow!” Hard fingers pinch his side, but by the time he looks at Eddie, he realises his mistake. “I didn’t mean us- Baby?”
But there’s no use. Evan now has two baskets, one of which he thrusts into Tommy’s hand and starts to fill with the food-shaped baubles, Tommy watching helplessly as the croissant is joined by a pink cake, half an avocado, salt and pepper shakers, a mince pie-
“Hope Harbour has some overtime going,” Eddie whispers as the basket continues to fill. “Buck, you do the grocery shopping, we’ll get some real decorations. Come on.”
Already on Eddie’s heels, Tommy makes a small sound of surprise when fingers lace loosely into his. Their hands are pressed together, hidden between them as they crowd together in the tight space, but Tommy’s heart still skips at the gesture. There’s no one else in here to see them, just a bored-looking teenager behind the till, and it’s easy to exist in the safety of their comfort with each other.
Through the tiny doorway is even more stuff. The walls are covered in reams of tinsel in every colour, fake boughs of holly, tartan ribbons, and lights. So many lights.
“Warm or cool?”
“Warm, obviously,” Tommy replies, grabbing a box of white, outdoor lights, then another. Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Got plans for the garden. We can use these all year round.”
“Very practical.”
He rolls his eyes. “How long did it take to wear you down then? On all of this.”
“Oh, I love Christmas. Shannon was just like Buck, went all out. The only time she ever willingly baked was for Christmas, she’d make these sugar cookies for Santa and Chris would decorate them…” He trails off, mindlessly fiddling with a string of polar bear-shaped lights. “Uh, yeah, not much convincing.”
Tommy snakes his arm around Eddie’s hips and pulls them close. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah, I shouldn’t-” Footsteps alert them to someone else’s presence and Eddie steps back instinctively, offering Tommy an apologetic wince as he does. “So, we good for lights?”
“Pfft, I think Buck won’t be happy until you can see our house from space.”
“We’ll get Karen to check just to appease him.”
They finish looping the room, picking up a few more bits before Tommy sees it. Tucked away between all the other signs, he can’t quite believe his luck. When he shows Eddie, he has to walk away, only vaguely promising to help him buy it without Evan seeing. Which is enough for Tommy. He waits a couple of minutes after Eddie disappears, perusing the wooden knick-knacks and questionable-looking gnomes, until Eddie texts him that the coast is clear.
The teenager rings him up, eyeing the sign and then him, but not saying anything.
“Oh, wait,” he dashes back to the shelves and picks up the big, glass bauble etched with delicate stars. “And this.”
Outside, Evan nearly bowls him over, grabbing at his shopping bag. “Well? Let me see!”
“Down, boy! You’ll see it when we get home.”
Evan pouts. “Fine. Come on then, that took way longer than I expected.”
“W-” Tommy glances at Eddie who just grins. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”
The way takes them down the row of overpriced knick-knack shops and beige clothing stores until they hit a sea of green. A sign mounted in the back of a red pickup says Fairway Christmas Tree Farm, and an inflatable Santa wobbles around chaotically next to it. Of course, Evan wants a real tree.
For years, Tommy had a modest plastic one that got put up in the week before Christmas and shoved back in its box some time between Boxing Day and New Year. It wasn’t great, but it was easy and it did the job. Then he bought the house and the sparse thing just looked pathetic in the much larger living room, so he chucked it and got used to have a plain Christmas. The 118 always had a great tree and it’s not like he had presents to put under his anyway, so it never felt like a big deal.
This kind of feels like a big deal.
Evan loops his arms into Tommy and Eddie’s, pulling them into the labyrinth. “So, the optimal height is seven feet considering the size of the room, but considering the floor space we have to play with, I think we want the width to be less than fifty-six inches-”
“How do you know?”
“I made a floor plan.”
“Oh, obviously,” Tommy mutters to Eddie behind Evan’s head. “When the fuck does he do these things?”
“It’s gonna be a long life if you keep questioning it, man.”
Unsurprisingly, Evan loses patience with them both and they watch as he bounces through the rows of firs, scanning each one against his mental checklist before heading to the next one, occasionally shaking his head in disappointment at some imperceptible shortcoming. Tommy thinks most of the trees look pretty Christmas Tree-like, they’re tall and green; some are definitely more pleasingly shaped with wide bottoms and full tapers to the top, just begging for a star to be perched there. The smell of cut pine hangs heavily in the air and Christmas jingles cut through from a shitty speaker somewhere in the depth of the faux-forest; it almost feels like a real winter despite the balmy weather.
If he lets himself, he can almost feel the powdery crunch of snow compacting under his boots, flakes brushing his wind-bitten cheeks and nose, as he helps his dad drag a freshly felled tree back like a prize hunt. He sweats into his thick jacket despite the way his skin burns in the cold and his breath comes out in huge plumes of steam, but he refuses to slow, not when his dad has finally trusted him. Of course, when it didn’t fit and dropped needles through the house, it was his fault.
Warm fingers thread into his, bringing him back into the sunshine of Evan’s gaze.
“You okay? Looked kinda far away.”
“You have no idea,” he laughs. “So, you find the one?”
Evan grins brightly. “I mean, you guys get a say too!”
“Mhm. Show me.”
He lets himself be dragged through the identical green shapes until they stop abruptly. The tree Evan stands next to is cute; tall and full, yet not as imposing as its neighbours but still healthy and when Tommy feels the needles, they’re firm but flexible - no risk of it being naked by the time they get it home. He can picture it in the living room, filling the dead space in the corner, all dressed up and proud.
“Well? Douglas Fir are much better for-” Tommy’s mouth interrupts the end of his sentence as he kisses him firmly. When he pulls away, Evan tilts his head, his eyes bright and soft. “What was that for?”
“For being you.”
~
With their haul unpacked, they get to work figuring out how exactly to turn the house into the Santa’s Grotto of Buck’s Pinterest dreams. He stares at the stack of boxes and, for the first time, comes close to admitting that maybe he’s being a bit over-the-top. Except, Christmas is about being over-the-top; it’s about everything garish and tacky, so why not lean into? The gaudy, tinsel-covered tree of his childhood is still a bright spot in the murky waters of growing up under his parents’ trauma. Every Christmas had to be the best Christmas, as if it was the last.
That thought stings now. It all makes so much sense and it settles in Buck’s stomach like a stone, but he refuses to let it ruin this time of year. His parents aren’t here, his real family are, and making it the best Christmas ever for them is far more important than letting his sad childhood weigh him down. And he definitely won’t let Tommy wallow for another year.
Inside each storage box is a sheet detailing the contents, covered in scribbles and updates that only really make sense to Buck. Eddie remembers de-Christmassing the loft last year on a gloomy day off in January. They’d just come off a shift from hell, Buck’s arms still heavy with the weight of a dead child, and Eddie had followed him home because of course he had. The colours and sparkle mocked them as soon as they walked through the door and Buck had chucked things in haphazardly, furious at the joy, then disappeared. Eddie found the sheets and put everything away with slow, shaking hands, then stood at the foot of the stairs, listening to Buck sob, until he just left, unable to find the words to help. He wonders how differently life might’ve looked if he’d had the courage to go up the stairs, to climb into bed and wrap his arms around Buck, knowing they both wanted that.
But then would they still be here? When Tommy fell into their laps, would they still have let him in? Would they have even considered it? The relationship is still new and thrilling and completely overwhelming. He watches Tommy and Buck manoeuvre the tree into its base, two people so different, yet perfect for each other, for him. Of course, he’s not ready to say these things out loud, even if Buck knows - he’s always been able to see through what Eddie doesn’t say. Blame it on Christmas, it always makes him sappy.
“A little to the left-”
“You’ve said that four times,” Buck snaps. “It can’t go anymore left!”
“You come and look then!”
Buck huffs and storms over to stand next to Eddie. He tilts his head, takes a step back, and sighs. “A little to the left.”
Out of one of the boxes comes a red velvet tree skirt, for the needles but Tommy just stares at Evan with that look on his face.
“And you’re sure you didn’t know you were queer?”
“Shut up and make yourself useful.”
Useful means unravelling the lights and tinsel, which need to go on first (obviously) while they can still get around the whole thing. Tommy did ask why they can’t just put it on the front but the way Evan’s jaw twitched made it clear why not, so they carefully thread the wires into the branches and then the same for the tinsel. After so many years of not having anything, it already feels like a lot. Suddenly, Tommy doesn’t recognise his living room - full of cheerful twinkling lights and all of Evan’s little touches. His throat burns with unexpected tears, springing up from something that feels like love or panic.
In such a short time, Evan has turned his life upside down and sometimes it hits him. The urge to run is still there, a nagging voice that tells him Evan deserves better, that he shouldn’t expect something this good to last, and it’s especially loud in moments like this. For years, Tommy coped with his shitty childhood and shittier adulthood on his own terms, even if they were lonely and sad, and now Evan has uprooted all of that. He wants to put his foot down and tell him to get out and stop changing things, that someone like Tommy doesn’t need all of this effort, save it for someone better.
“I can do some if you need a break,” Evan says as he threads his arms around Tommy’s waist, his chin in the crook of his shoulder. “I- I know I can be a lot.”
“No- I mean, yeah, but-” Tommy sighs and leans back. “You’re good, baby, don’t worry.” He knows the silence. Evan worries, it’s what he does, whether or not you want it or think you deserve it. “Hey, should we, I dunno, wait for Chris to do the tree?”
Eddie looks up, surprised. “Nah, if you think he’s bad, you do not wanna see Chris and his popcorn to cranberry ratio. But I’ll see if there’s something he wants to add, you know, next time he comes over.”
“That’d be great,” Tommy smiles and leans to kiss Eddie.
The world grows darker as they rotate between the tree and finding homes for Evan’s endless decorations; there are meters upon meters of fairy lights, almost enough to run around the whole house, more wreaths than doors, and ceramic figurines that Eddie sets up on every surface he can find, including the bathroom window sill. They make it through two hours of Christmas music before Tommy sneaks in something slightly less festive when Evan disappears to make food and Eddie almost gets on his knees right then in gratitude.
At some point, Eddie finds himself alone on the couch, gaze fixed on the dancing lights but his tired brain elsewhere. He texts Chris and when he doesn’t reply, he follows up with Pepa, even though it means the inevitable questions about what he’s been up to and with who. Although, he’s 90% sure that she’s eager to have a moody teenager over so she can grill Chris for information about his unusual situation, but he’s been so nonchalant about the whole thing that she might as well talk to a brick wall for all he notices.
Eventually, they’ll have to talk, really talk, and get it all out. They’ll have to figure out what this means and where they go from here - maybe they can wait until Chris goes to college (a panic-inducing idea) before anything needs to change. Maybe.
“Try this,” Buck’s voice brings him back to the present. He drops heavily next to Eddie as close as he can without sitting in his lap, which Eddie suspects is what he actually wants.
He sips from the bottle without asking and immediately regrets it. “What the fuck is that?”
“Dandelion and burdock, sounded festive.”
“Tastes like ass,” Eddie shivers.
“Thought you love how my ass tastes,” Buck tilts his head playfully, earning himself a bitchy glare. Eddie’s cheeks still pink when they talk like this and it drives Buck crazy. He nudges Eddie until he leans back, giving Buck room to swing his legs over Eddie’s thighs, slotting into his lap like he belongs there.
Because he does. It’s still thrilling that he gets this, that the fluttering in his stomach can be acted upon, not just swallowed down with a tight smile. When he wants to kiss the pink off of Eddie’s face, he can. His boyfriend is solid and warm under him, his hands on Buck’s hips, thumbs hooked into the loops of his jeans with just enough pressure to make him aware of their presence. In the warm light of the tree, Eddie’s skin glows, his eyes dark and playful.
“Oh, wh- what’s this?” Buck says before pulling a sprig of mistletoe from his back pocket and holding it over their heads.
“God, you’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“Are you saying you don’t want to kiss me?” Buck brushes his nose against Eddie’s, teasing their lips together as he rolls his hips until Eddie’s hands grip him tighter. Two days of stubble scratch back at him as he kisses along his jaw and onto his throat, Eddie’s head tilting back instinctively, giving Buck more space, inviting him to get his teeth on the soft skin. “Because from where I’m standing-”
His mouth is captured in a biting kiss, Eddie’s hand in his curls holding him tight as they fall into each other, all tongues and soft hums in the quiet. The art of making out was never lost on Eddie, but making out with Buck is something else entirely, something he could do forever. Even as he feels himself heating up under Buck’s grinding hips, there’s no rush for more.
Until they feel someone lean against the back of the sofa.
“Hey,” Buck grins, lips and cheeks pink.
“Don’t mind me,” Tommy smirks. “By all means, carry on.”
Buck reaches over and pulls Tommy down by the front of his shirt and holds the mistletoe up. “Huh, guess it’s your turn.”
They kiss messily, Tommy leant over the sofa and Eddie watching their tongues slide over each other with a desire that still surprises him. He’d never wanted to see his partners kiss someone else before, but then he’d never watched two people he wanted to fuck make out before. Those excruciating early months when he fought the guilt every time they kissed in front of him and he didn’t want to look away, how he had tracked every moment of affection, every touch, his heart in his throat when he interrupted something. Now they kiss hoping he’ll see. The things he’s watched them do to each other still make him blush.
Tommy settles next to them on the couch, his arm thrown behind Eddie’s head. “Oh, look at that.”
The mistletoe dangles just inches above Eddie’s head and he rolls his eyes but accepts a slow kiss from Tommy and then from Buck. Slowly, Tommy lowers his hand, first to Eddie’s jaw, then his neck, their mouths following suit, pressing against his skin.
“Mmm, off,” Tommy orders as he tugs at Eddie’s shirt, six hands making quick work of getting rid of it. “Much better.”
They kiss along his throat and collarbone, onto his pecs. Buck pauses at the gunshot scar, tracing it with his tongue, while Tommy teases his nipple, rolling it until hard.
“Ah!” Eddie protests when they find the ticklish spots on his ribs, but it’s half-hearted, his arms still firm around each of them. Soft lips are replaced with sharp teeth, pinches of pain that bloom brightly on the edge of pleasure. He squirms under their attention, his brain scrambling to keep up with the hands and mouths on his skin.
Buck takes the green leaves and tucks the stem into Eddie’s waistband, his grin too adorable for Eddie to do more than roll his eyes at. Someone undoes his jeans, someone tugs on them until he lifts his hips, someone kisses his thighs, someone mouths at the front of his underwear, hot, wet breath through the soft material. His cock jerks and fills as he teased; his boyfriends are attentive, generous, and quick learners, but it means he has no hope of keeping it together for long when they choose to undo him.
It’s Buck who takes Eddie out of his underwear, stroking him to full attention with a firm grip as he watches Eddie’s wide pupils stare down at him. Tommy’s hand joins Buck’s, working him in tandem until his chest rises rapidly, fingers twisting against their scalps.
“Isn’t he pretty?” Tommy coos.
“Looks good enough to eat,” Buck agrees, leaning down to lap at the head of his cock. “Just wait until he comes.”
Their tongues meet around him, he’s surrounded by the hot, wet suction, the way they work the sensitive spots just right. “Shit-”
Buck pulls away to let Tommy swallow him down, stroking himself and watching greedily as he buries his nose in the dark curls. He’s still better at this than Buck, breathing steadily through his nose, it’s hypnotic to watch, almost as hot as having Tommy’s mouth on his own dick. Eddie writhes, his hips stuttering as he fights the urge to thrust. A pink flush spreads from his chest up his neck and Buck runs his tongue over the hot skin, lapping at his nipple until Eddie whines.
“That’s it, baby. Let us hear you.”
“Fuck, c’mere,” he pulls Buck to his mouth and kisses him hard. His hand wraps around his cock and Buck groans appreciatively. It’s an awkward angle but seeing Buck’s lips part with pleasure, feeling him hot and hard in his hand, it goes straight to his dick. “I’m so c-”
Eddie spills down Tommy’s throat with a strangled moan, his face buried in Buck’s neck until the last wave of pleasure crashes and subsides. Beside him, Buck works himself through the sounds of Eddie’s orgasm, his own peaking suddenly and he comes across Eddie’s chest messily.
“Shit that was hot,” he pants, taking in the sight of Eddie, flushed and marked up.
On his other side, Tommy strokes himself slowly; he swipes a thumb through the mess and licks up Buck’s spend. “Want some more, sweetheart?”
“Fuck, y- yes, please.”
“God, look at you two. So fucking lucky.” It doesn’t take long for him to rush to the edge and he comes hard, hips stuttering as he paints Eddie’s abs with a low groan. “Fuuck.”
Whoever’s t-shirt happens to be within Tommy’s reach is sacrificed to clean up duty before they collapse. They lie in a boneless pile, none of them fussed about turning the TV on, so they just watch the light cycle. Time stands still around them, curled into each other, just the sounds of their breathing growing heavier and slower. If Tommy doesn’t get up right after an orgasm, he’s done for and sleeping on the couch is never a good idea, but the thought of moving away from the warmth of the others is inconceivable, so he accepts his fate. But honestly, a tight back is worth this; Evan’s long limbs splayed across his, Eddie’s fingers in his hair, all utterly content.
“Thanks,” Tommy whispers, almost too quiet for them to hear. “I- You’re right, this is better.”
Suddenly, Evan sits up. “Wait, the thing! Your secret thing. Where is it?”
“Fuck’s sake, wait here,” he untangles himself from the heavy limbs of his boyfriends and finds the shopping bag he tucked away in a drawer. “Okay, you promise not to laugh?”
Evan’s eyes widen with excitement. “You gotta show us now.”
With a big sigh, Tommy pulls out the box and plugs the sign in. It glows with bright, gaudy colours and reads: May Your Christmases Be Gay
“Holy shit,” Eddie laughs, getting up and throwing his arm around Tommy. “How did you even find that.”
“Oh, this is so going on the front door,” Evan bounds up to him, his face illuminated by the rainbow lights.
“Yeah? Not, you know, too much?”
“Never. Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas.”