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“Definitely not how we’d planned to spend today,” Simon muses, listening to the crackling of the fireplace video and grinning slightly as he absentmindedly cards his fingers through Wille’s sweat damp hair.
Wille, very much unimpressed with his amusement, glares at him from Simon’s lap. While last night’s fever had broken, Simon’s boyfriend is still very much sick (“On Christmas, of all days!” he’d whined) and very much being a big baby about it.
“‘M glad one of us is finding this funny,” he grumbles, voice thick with a mixture of illness, sleep, and annoyance.
“Your suffering is my greatest entertainment,” Simon says, his attempt at a straight face ruined by the grin he can’t keep from spreading.
Wille rolls his eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around him, but Simon spots a small grin on his lips with immense satisfaction.
“‘M gonna remember this the next time you’re sick,” he mumbles, muffled where he’s burrowed his head further into Simon’s lap.
Simon nods sagely, still grinning dumbly as he tucks the blanket around Wille’s back, earning him a quiet, tired “thank you”. “I’m sure you will, mi amor,”
They fall into silence again, Wille dozing in his lap and Simon watching the snowflakes fall outside their window. The sky’s bright in contrast to their dimly lit living room, illuminated only by the soft glow of the television and the twinkling lights around the windows. Their tree—small and tucked in the corner beside the television—is adorned with their mish mash collection of ornaments and whatever other decorations they’d managed to scrounge up. A small heap of presents remains unopened underneath it.
Simon’s grin turns soft, just a slight quirk to the corners of his mouth. He cherishes every moment he has with Wille, but these kinds are some of the ones he adores most—wrapped together in comfortable silence, just basking in each other’s presence. Something about it just makes his heartbeat quicken, his chest so full of love that he doesn’t know what to do with it all.
Tomorrow they’ll open their gifts and their stockings and eat cookies and make the nice dinner they’d gone shopping specifically for this past weekend. They’ll facetime Linda and Felice and Sara and wish them a merry Christmas and they’ll have a good day.
For now, they’ll just stay here on the couch, sleeping and talking and rewatching Christmas movies they’ve seen a hundred times already. Clementine will join them at some point, purring up a storm and getting her fur everywhere, and Simon will complain when he eventually has to clean the blanket but he won’t stop her. Wille will just spoil her like he always does.
It isn’t how they’d planned for the day to go, and Wille will apologize for it way more than necessary, but Simon finds himself looking forward to it all the same.
“Merry Christmas, mi amor,” Simon murmurs, not really expecting an answer, but one comes anyway, hushed and drowsy.
“Merry Christmas, Simon,”