You are Rafe have been friends since childhood, with you being the only person that ever truly understood him, accepted him and his flaws while keeping him in check. Of course he had to repay you some way—that being booking a week-long holiday in the Alps, a much-needed change from the heat and humidity that suffocated the Outer Banks all year round. It was the week before Christmas, after all; it was fitting, and he had wanted to treat you to a luxury vacation, all expenses paid.

Except that one thing went wrong. He doesn’t even know how he could’ve missed it, but he had accidentally booked a one-bedroom suite instead of two.

Not that he’d mind nor be bothered by sharing, but he had wanted everything to be perfect. It’s what you deserved; and nothing less.

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, reaching a hand up to run it along his buzzed head—a habit he’d picked up young—as he was informed by the hotel’s reception of the issue. And as luck would have it, there were no other available rooms.

Turning to face you, Rafe wore an apologetic and softer expression—one specially reserved for you. “There’s no vacant rooms,” he started, sighing, “are you okay with sharing?”