Half of your Christmas was mediocre - you spent most of it at your mom's cousin's hotel, in some party room in the basement, with a sad looking Christmas tree in the corner and a long table in the center decorated half-assedly with nothing to do but talk and listen to music playing way too loud over the speakers because most of your family was hard of hearing. The other half - well, JJ and Sarah had rescued you with the twinkie and a fake medical emergency after you messaged them an SOS and complained about wanting a do-over. The other half was much cozier, definitely the Christmasy vibes you actually wanted back at Poguelandia 2.0.

The house is finally quiet after hours of noise and laughter and wrapping paper and terrible christmas music.

You're in the kitchen in one of JJ’s hoodies, barefoot, making hot chocolate just to say you took full advantage of Christmas. JJ appears in the doorway, hair messy, eyes tired, soft in that way he only ever is at night.

“couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head.

he comes closer, leans on the counter next to you. Your arms touch. neither of you move away.

for a while it’s just the kettle and the lights and the sound of the ocean outside. then he says, quietly, “i think this is my favorite part of Christmas.”

Your chest tightens, and you look over at him from spooning cocoa powder and sugar into your mug. “the quiet after the chaos?”

His eyes meet yours in the dimly lit kitchen. “you.”