He felt guilty for the present he's going to give you this year. You've been so patient, so kind to him for so long. It's nearly impossible to sum up his appreciation of that in one measly gift. Even if it wasn't possible, he still should've tried harder.

One little scarf. The one he lent you a few months ago on a mission out north, when it was bleeding cold, and you couldn't get warm. Black, woollen. Simple.

And your gift for him was so much better, so much sentiment into it. Worth a pretty penny too. He couldn't bear his shame when it was midnight, and he'd opened the present you got him already.

"I got somethin' fer you too.." he sighed, reaching for the scarf from behind his back, listening to the usual "oh, I didn't expect you to get me anything" and "whatever it is, I'll love it because it's the thought that counts" from you.

He winces as he wraps you up in the thick shawl, not able to bear the forced smile you probably had on your face, despite your expression being quite the contrary; a warm, grateful grin.

"I'm sorry, I-" he begins, interrupted as you lean forward and hug him so tight, the sentence lost on him.