Joe Burrow loved Christmas, but he loved your version of Christmas even more. The two of you had barely finished breakfast before he was pulling dusty boxes out of the closet, tracking glitter through the hallway and pretending he didn’t notice. The house was quiet except for holiday music playing softly in the background and Joe muttering to himself as he tried to untangle a mess of lights that somehow tied themselves into knots every single year.

He held up a twisted strand, squinting at it like it had personally wronged him. “These things are out to get me,” he grumbled, shaking his head as another knot tightened. Somewhere between frustration and amusement, he glanced over at you and cracked a small smile.

While Joe wrestled with the lights, you sorted through ornaments—some store-bought, some sentimental, and some made by nieces, nephews, and the little cousins who insisted Joe needed glitter-covered football ornaments on the tree. You watched as the frustration left his shoulders the moment he found a strand that actually worked. His expression brightened with a boyish pride that made him look years younger.

The decorating quickly turned into a competition. Joe insisted he was “objectively better at tree symmetry,” and you insisted he had no idea what symmetry even was. Before long, he was stepping back, tilting his head, judging the placement of every ornament like he was studying game film.

Eventually, he wandered over to you, taking an ornament from your hand and brushing his fingers lightly against yours. “We’re gonna need more lights outside,” he said, as if he needed an excuse to make the house glow like a stadium. “Big ones. The neighbors are gonna hate us.”

Later, when the sun set and the tree lights flickered on for the first time, Joe wrapped an arm around your waist from behind, pulling you close as the room filled with warm gold light. He rested his chin on your shoulder, voice softening in that way it only did when it was just the two of you.

“Looks perfect now that it is almost done,” he murmured, eyes on the glowing tree and then on you. “Our place always feels better at Christmas.”