A/N: yeah ok i haven't seen "a christmas maya" (or any of the recent eps tbh) but i was reading a headcanon by huckleberribond on tumblr that basically asked what if lucas went down to the campfire pit whenever he was back in texas for christmas. i'm only uploading because it's over 1k.

WARNING: spoilers? again, idk, this is just from what i know about the ep from tumblr. it isn't that crucial tbh.

It's not that he hates Christmas—honestly, it's his favorite holiday, and Manhattan really does look magical when snow litters the ground and dusts the trees. But he definitely does not like the biting cold that greets him every morning with a harsh smack, nor does he care for slipping on nearly invisible ice and bruising his tailbone when he's just trying to go to his favorite coffeehouse.

So, when his grandfather offers to host festivities at his Austin home—his warm Austin home—Lucas and his parents jump on the chance to get away from the city. He makes it a point (to himself) that he's only going for the reasons listed above, along with the fact that he hasn't seen his grandparents since, like, the summer. And the fact that it's most certainly not a way for him to avoid the Secret Santa activity his girlfriend has planned for their friend group.

It's most definitely, totally, certainly not about that.

(Or the fact that he wouldn't be able to handle getting Maya.)

Because their flight doesn't get in until five in afternoon, the first thing the Friar family does is go by Uncle Julio's downtown to grab a bite to eat. It's been so long since he's been here, Lucas forgets that it's a solely Tex-Mex restaurant, and is lulled into a false sense of security until he looks at the menu to see the word "Chimichanga (2)" in bright orange letters.

A familiar, sinking feeling that forms a hard rock in his stomach whenever he thinks of Maya (sans Riley or attached, especially attached) fills him now, so he redirects his eyes and asks for an enchilada—the farthest thing from a deep-fried burrito at this place.

When his grandparents arrive to the venue, because they just can't wait to see their darling grandson, they quickly start the conversation by asking him about his friends.

He regales them with stories about Zay, who they both know very well, and about the probably world-conquering power couple Farkle and Zay, and even talks a bit about his sunshine-y girlfriend (without mentioning their relationship status), that is, until Pappy Joe asks about that blonde sweetheart named—oh, what was it—Mary?

"Maya," Lucas corrects demurely, that peach pit returning.

His grandfather looks at him expectantly. "Oh yes, that firecracker. How is she doing? You really seemed to like her last time you were here."

"She's fine, I guess. Submitted one of her pieces for an exhibition for the school, so uh-yeah."

On his other side, his mother gets a little stiff (she'd been there for him all last year). "Lucas is dating Riley now."

Both of the elder Friars furrow their brows, but Pappy Joe just lets out a soft "oh," and they continue on with their meals and his father starts blabbering about their new terrior, Butch.

That night, Lucas shifts restlessly underneath the periwinkle sheets of the guest bedroom. Because it's nearing two in the morning, and he heard his parents and grandparents go to bed almost three hours ago, he knows that he probably won't get caught if he sneaks out.

So that's what he does.

He grabs a flashlight and a coat; although the central part of the state is much warmer than his home in New York, the winter chill sets in afters sunset and his cheeks and nose will grow a raw scarlet quickly.

Without a destination in mind, Lucas begins wandering, and nearly regrets the decision when the path leads him to the familiar fire pit, deep in the sparse woods by the ranch-house.

It's not that he hasn't been here since, well, that, but its just that he's never alone. He hasn't had the time to just sit on one of the logs and ruminate on the events that took place here. And it's not that he's trying to be dramatic, but god, just a few minutes by the firelight seemed to affect, like, the entirety of his short, adolescent life.

Lucas doesn't even need to close his eyes to envision Maya's face when she tried to mock him but he stopped her. He doesn't have to struggle to recreate the feeling of her skin underneath the pads of his thumbs, or the way his fingers helplessly tangled in her hair, or the small gap in between them that he so desperately tried to close but decided against at the last minute because she said she didn't like him.

And oh, the wide, disappointed look in her eyes when he reluctantly pulled away has already permanently settled itself in his brain.

The faint "of course I like you" could easily be inked on his skin.

Two o'clock that afternoon, he receives a lengthy text from Riley, mainly about how just because he didn't tell her that he left (he knows that has got to sting) doesn't mean he's not participating in Secret Santa this year.

Zay messages him later to tell him that he got Riley for his, and he breathes a sigh of relief because again, he just wouldn't be able to handle it. Plus, that gives him until after New Years (he definitely does not want to be present for that, considering the debacle of 2015) to buy her a gift.

Lucas gets a clipped "merry christmas" text with a Christmas tree emoji from Maya the morning of the twenty-fifth. And when he arrives back to New York, the gang meets at the bakery to "welcome him back to civilization," as Smackle put it.

He gives Riley her present: a silver necklace his mother approved, pack of emoji stickers and a letter that he signed "Love, Lucas," in hopes of softening the blow of not letting her know about his vacation plans.

And then, after the rest of their friends go to grab their coffee from the counter, Maya stops him and hands him a flat box with cowboy wrapping paper with a soft smile and a "Happy 2017," before heading off to get her green tea from Zay.

He doesn't unwrap it there, but instead choosing to open it at home. It was a wise deciding, as he can feel his cheeks heat up when he sees that it's a picture of the six of them, from when they went to Coney Island over the summer. It's a nice picture, but really, what his eyes are drawn to is its frame: a thick wood piece, adorned with a pattern of cowboy boots on a light blue background that he knows is hand-painted.

By her.

Something warm spreads throughout his chest at that fact, and good lord, he has really got to get over this girl.