Page 130 of Don't Shoot Me Santa
“So once again, your grand Christmas gift involves you not spending a penny or stepping foot in a shop.”
“You don’t know me.”
Kenny laughed, sliding a hand into Aaron’s back pocket, tugging him close, and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know you better than you know yourself.”
And, yeah, he did.
Whatever.
When they got back to the cottage, Aaron curled up onthe hearth rug in front of the tree with Chaos snoring at his feet and Lucky nibbling the treats Aaron kept feeding her when Chaos wasn’t looking. Kenny tackled the rest of the Christmas dinner, and the fire crackled behind him, pine and burnt orange drifting from the garland Kenny had strung along the mantle and outdoing the roasties and turkey gravy. Outside, fairy lights blinked in the hedges. Inside, the world was gold and soft and safe.
They gave each other their real presents while the turkey rested.
Nothing extravagant.
Kenny unwrapped a first-edition children’s book Aaron had tracked down from some obscure Edinburgh dealer that Kenny had once seen in a charity shop and had said Jessica had used to read it, complete with a ribbon-tied note scrawled in Aaron’s messy handwriting:For my other half.Kenny went quiet reading it. A quiet that wasn’t awkward, butfull.
See, Kenny did sometimes get him wrong.
In return, Kenny gave Aaron a hand-stitched leather dog-training pouch with a custom silver tag that read:Chaos & Order.He’d also slipped a tiny hand-drawn sketch of Aaron walking Chaos on the beach into the box, charcoal-smudged and utterly beautiful. Aaron stared at it so long he forgot to speak.
There were other things too. Small, quiet offerings. A cinnamon candle. A new hoodie. A bag of those godawful sour gummies Aaron secretly adored. Tokens. Proof they saw each other in the way that mattered. Knew each other in the soft, wordless spaces.
No baby book, thank fuck.
And no engagement ring. Kenny had said he wanted Aaron to choose the one he’d never be allowed to take off. Fair enough. It had to match the tattoo. Had to be somethinghe wouldn’t lose down a drain or snap in half within the month.
Then it was just them. Firelight and tinsel. Sore thighs and salt air. Love folded into every breath, every kiss, every refill of wine Kenny topped up without thinking. Dinner was a chaotic triumph. Lazy. Perfect. Aaron’s honey-glazed carrots, as always, stole the show. The turkey was slightly overdone, and Kenny blamed the stuffing distraction, but once he drowned it in his smug, handmade gravy, it passed muster. They wore the crinkled paper crowns from the crackers, now sitting lopsided in their hair. Walked away with a pair of eyebrow tweezers and a novelty keyring. Real highbrow loot.
They drank more wine.
Then more.
Until Aaron was relaxed enough to talk about the wedding. “I don’t want a big thing. And no churches.”
“That’s fine. No churches. Small gathering.”
“Actually, no gathering. Just us. Like this.”
“We need witnesses.”
“How many?”
“Two. How about Ja—”
“No! I’m not having your ex watching me sob while I marry you. And if Fraser’s involved, there’ll be cake, and I won’t fit into the obscenely tight trousers I plan to wear.”
Kenny chuckled and topped up Aaron’s glass. “Okay. Who then?”
Aaron considered. “Mel. She deserves something for… well, you know.”
“Okay.” Kenny took a sip, lips turning that deliciously flushed shade of red. “Who else?”
“Your aunt?So she can feedback to your mum, and Jessica, that you’re happy now.”
Kenny met his eyes. A slow smile curved his mouth. “Sounds perfect.”
Later, Kenny slipped off to tidy the kitchen, and Aaron wandered to the old walnut piano that had belonged to Kenny’s mum. He played whatever came. Christmas songs, bits of Debussy, some Elton. Kenny kissed his neck in passing before collapsing on the sofa, wine glass in hand. The more he drank, the further he melted into the cushions, shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes fluttering closed. A lazy smile curving his lips. He looked like a man who had everything he’d ever wanted.
