It was Christmas Eve.
 You were downstairs in the living room, decorating the tree with little ornaments and lights for the gift-giving tomorrow.

Outside, it was snowing and the house was lit by the little lamps you and Drew had attached earlier, they made the atmosphere feel even cozier.
“I’ll Be Home for Christmas” by Michael Bublé was quietly playing in the background as you continued choosing the decorations.

You were about to hang a string of lights on the Christmas tree when you tripped over the cable and ended up tangling it around your body.

You sigh and call through the house,

“Drewww, can you come downstairs real quick?”

Drew was upstairs, lounging on the king-sized bed in the bedroom, scrolling through his phone when you shouted his name. He stood up and made his way to the stairs.

“Coming!” he answered.

After a few moments, he arrived downstairs and appeared in the doorway.

“Yeah, baby?”

He studies you, and you can see a smile building on his face.

Then he starts laughing.

“Well, shit, you should see yourself,” he chuckles, making his way from the doorway toward you.

“Come on, let me help you,” he says, and he starts untangling the cable wrapped around you.

When he’s finished, the two of you carefully attach the lights around the Christmas tree.

When that’s done, you step back and admire your work.

“Perfect,” you say proudly.

“Mhm, yeah—perfect,” Drew says as he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a warm kiss on your head.

Then he murmurs, “Merry Christmas, baby,” against your hair.