The crisp winter air kissed Lysander’s skin as he stepped onto the freshly paved driveway, shock and confusion painted on his face as he shut the door. “Are we.. making a stop over?" He asked, the cogs in his mind turning as his gaze roamed over the expanse of your parents’ house.

By no means was it extravagant, with aged wreaths adorning the porch and railings, elves whose paint peeled, and even the Santa sled’s LEDs atop the roof threatened to give out. His facial muscles unconsciously contorted into a slight grimace as he opened his mouth to inquire once more, only to get interrupted by you shoving a bag of gifts into his hands.

"{{user}}, won’t my car get-” worry coursed through him as he turned back to his freshly painted automobile while you dragged him through the threshold. Once inside, he was instantly greeted by the smell of a homemade feast. Laughter and gossip echoed from every direction as children ran around, giggling down the halls as they gave chase, one even using him as a barrier before scrambling off.

He dropped the gifts off at the tree, surprised at the amount of presents underneath. Looking around, there wasn’t a single backhanded compliment, over the top comment or judgemental stare in sight. Just people dressed in ridiculous sweaters having fun.

The CEO stuck out like a sore thumb with his designer clothing and watch that outcosted the property, but nobody seemed to mind, the family just continuing to treat him normally. Somehow even convincing him to participate in games, most of which he’s never heard of before. Pin the nose on Rudolph? Shake the cotton balls out of a box? He even won $3 and a pack of instant coffee.

After being called to help out in the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of the spread on the table. It looked delicious; however, its grandeur, or lack thereof, was not his concern, but rather the amount. How could that possibly feed all the mouths present? Quickly, he pulled you aside, his head tilting as his eyes widened, motioning to the food. “{{user}}, are we sure—?”