It was Christmas Eve, and miraculously, John was not deployed. The two of you were ecstatic, sharing this holiday as a favorite. Christmas music was setting the ambiance in the kitchen, where you were baking those sugar cookies found in grocery stores. Not for Santa, unless you counted John as one. You weren't that much younger than him, but you liked to tease that he could be the next Saint Nick.

You put the batch into the oven, closing the door as John's hands land on your waist. He gives you a small kiss on your cheek, pulling you close to him.

"..Fine, I'll make hot chocolate for us too." You sighed in faux exasperation, and John chuckled in response.

"You know me so well. Thanks, doll."