A Perfect Christmas
Shouldering the door open, Marcus dropped his keys in the bowl as he struggled with the shopping bags. The heat from the open fire was a welcome relief after a morning trudging about Hogsmeade in the snow, the warmth spreading through his body as he unbuttoned his jacket and removed his thick woollen scarf.
"Ollie?" he called out as he heeled his boots off without undoing the laces, the bottoms of his jeans and his socks damp with defrosted snow. Jogging up the stairs to their bedroom, he called out again.
"Ollie?"
Pulling out the middle draw of the dresser, he rummaged around until he found his favourite pair of sweatpants, settling on the edge of the bed to change out of the cold denim and into the soft, warm plaid cotton.
Returning to the lounge, he draped the jeans on the back of a chair in front of the fire, turning when he heard the backdoor go and the scratching of Orlok's claws on the kitchen floor as he scampered under Oliver's feet.
"Calm down," Marcus heard Oliver chastise the playful Rottweiler puppy half heartedly as he made his way through to the kitchen.
"What have you got there?" he asked, as Oliver dropped the cardboard boxes onto the kitchen table, tugging at the tabs of the first box, a studious expression on his face.
"Christmas decorations," Oliver replied as he carefully started unpacking the contents.
Tugging at the sellotape with his teeth, the fingers of one hand pressing the paper closed, he huffed in frustration as the adhesive stuck to his lip. Oliver had insisted that wrapping presents the muggle way was therapeutic, but after two hours sat crossed legged in the lounge, losing the scissors so many times he had lost count, and getting the sellotape stuck to various parts of his anatomy, his patience was as dangerously thin as the restricted blood that flowed through his lower limbs- and only one present was anywhere near resembling successfully wrapped.
Giving up, he forced himself up, stumbling on legs that were numb from pins and needles to the coffee table where his wand sat. With a tap, he spelled the gift paper to wrap neatly around the remaining presents, shrinking and packing them into one of the bags before shoving them under the couch.
Leaning in the doorway, he watched as Oliver sat hunched studiously over sheets of parchment, absorbed in whatever it was he was working on, Orlok curled up at his feet. Pushing himself away from the doorframe, he wrapped his arms around Oliver's shoulders, nuzzling at his neck.
"Come to bed, love," Marcus murmured into the skin of Oliver's shoulder.
"In a minute, let me just get this finished," Oliver replied as he sketched. It was their first Christmas together in the cottage they had bought earlier that year and he wanted everything to be perfect. Having the perfect tree was the pinnacle of that and required extensive planning.
"Fine," Marcus huffed pulling away, striding out of the kitchen and stomping up the stairs, moodily. He hated going to bed alone.
Jogging down the stairs, he ducked under the Oak beam into the lounge where Oliver was sat surrounded by boxes of decorations, all sorted by colour, shape and size, and sheets and sheets of parchments.
Marcus frowned as he ruffled his bedhead. "What's all this?" he yawned, attempting to stretch and glaring at the low ceiling of their cottage.
"This," smiled Oliver, " is what we need to decorate our tree."
Marcus scratched his head, confusion etched on his face. "We don't even have a tree yet, Ollie," he reminded him.
"Oh," Oliver replied, chewing on his lip. He had been so focused on organising, he had forgotten that they hadn't got round to choosing a tree.
Suddenly his eyes lit up. "Well, we best go choose one then!" he cried, pulling himself up from where he was sat.
"Now?" Marcus asked, shocked. "I'm not even dressed yet!"
"Well you best sort yourself out, then," Oliver replied, chucking Marcus his wand from the coffee table.
Marcus tapped his head twice, as Oliver grabbed his jacket and scarf from where he had left them on the back of the couch.
"Ready?" Oliver asked as he tucked the end of his scarf into his jacket before looking up expectantly at Marcus.
"Ready," Marcus conceded, clipping the lead on Orlok's collar.
"There!" Oliver beamed, as he stood back from the tree, finally satisfied with it's position in the lounge, halfway between the window and the fireplace. Marcus handed him a cup of tea as he sipped his own.
"Right," Oliver sighed, moving to the sheets of parchment, spreading them out on the coffee table, his eyebrows knitting together as he chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, Marcus dipped his hand into one of the boxes, pulling back the tissue paper to inspect the silver baubles with emerald swirls.
Oliver was mumbling something about co-ordinated colours, but Marcus wasn't listening. Getting up from the couch, he placed the bauble on one of the branches, scrutinising it carefully.
Frowning, he reached into another box and pulled out some gold tinsel, running it through his fingers as Oliver pointed to another parchment.
Humming his reply, he looked at the tree, his head tilting to one side. Tentatively, he reached out, draping the gold tinsel over several branches. Stepping back, he tilted his head to the other side before nodding to himself, satisfied.
Oliver was counting out baubles now, but Marcus was on a roll. Reaching into the box, he pulled out a silver strand of tinsel, holding it at arm's length as he studied the tree. Finally, he nodded again and draped the tinsel on the branches the other side of the gold tinsel.
Pointing to what looked like a sketch of a Christmas tree, Oliver was saying something about house colours. Marcus wasn't listening, as he looked inside another box, finding little wooden ornaments, carved into toy soldiers and child's toys. Surprised, he pulled the items out and turned them over in his hands, admiring the details. He was used to Christmas trees covered in ribbons, baubles and candles. He had never seen toys on a tree before.
Inspiration struck, and Marcus went to the Welsh dresser against the far wall of the lounge, collecting up several items from the shelves. Crossing to the couch, he reached under it, dragging out his bag of gifts. Slipping his wand from the coffee table next to Oliver, he glanced over his plans, humming while shaking his head at Oliver's meticulous planning. So this was what he had been working on so late last night. "Figures", Marcus mused drily as he made his way over to the tree, tapping each item as he grinned.
"Are you even listening to me?" Oliver asked distractedly as he attempted to narrow down his final five options for the star.
"Of course," replied Marcus automatically, placing the items on the tree.
He stared at the final item in his hands, before looking up at the tree.
"Fuck it, i'm just going to put it there," he muttered, reaching up to the top, balancing the item in place.
Oliver caught the movement in the corner of his eye, whipping his head up.
"What the…" he began, his eyes going wide before narrowing as they shone with fury. "You can't just put it where you feel like it, Flint. It needs to be balanced. And co-ordinated," Oliver explained angrily. He had spent all of last night planning the design for the tree in intricate detail and here was Marcus, just placing anything anywhere and pissing Oliver off in the process.
Rising to his feet, he threw his hands out, gesturing wildly at the tree. "And you cannot put silver and gold tinsel on the same level!" he complained bitterly, a slight whine to his voice.
Marcus narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"
Oliver continued ranting, unhearing Marcus's question, catching sight of the top of the tree.
"And what the fuck is that doing on top?! He cried, pointing with his outstretched finger as he rounded on Marcus. "It should be a star, NOT a Nimbus 3000!"
Turning back to the tree, Oliver stepped towards it, reaching out to touch something he did not recognise from the boxes of ornaments.
"And where the fuck did all these other decorations come from?" he hissed as he found what looked like a Quidditch player.
Turning to the Welsh dresser, he saw one of the shelves was conspicuously bare. Looking back at the tree, he saw the little Quidditch player, grab hold of what looked like a Quaffle, before hurling it at what looked suspiciously like a Quidditch hoop. The player in the red robes batted the little Quaffle away, raising an eyebrow at the other player, who sneered before taking off, his green robes fluttering with the sudden gust of wind.
That's when Oliver realised what Marcus had done: he had spelled the players from his old childhood Quidditch set so that they looked like him and Marcus.
Oliver's anger dissolved as he thought just how damn cute it was, the corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile.
Belatedly, realisation hit him, forcing him to look up sharply at where the star should be. That was when he saw the gift tag on the broom, 'Ollie' scrawled in Marcus's flowing penmanship.
Marcus wrapped his arms around Oliver, his head coming to rest on his shoulder.
"I can't believe you spelled the players to look like us!" Oliver murmured, turning around in Marcus's arms.
Marcus hummed against the column of Oliver's neck, the vibrations causing his arousal to build.
"I guess the broom can stay," he conceded as Marcus chuckled, his breath ghosting across his skin deliciously.
"Because it's for you?" Marcus murmured, pressing open mouthed kisses to Oliver's neck.
"No; because I admit it does look good up there," Oliver replied, sighing as he splayed his fingers on Marcus's hips, pulling him closer.
"Merry Christmas, Ollie," Marcus murmured.
"Merry Christmas, Marc'," he replied.