The soft notes of Christmas music floated into the bedroom followed by the sharp smell of burnt cinnamon. Suddenly the smoke alarm cried out.
"Shit," a voice cursed. Mary smiled into her pillow before sitting up and running her fingers through her hair. She slipped off the bed and shuffled into the kitchen. Smoke filled the room and John, still in his pajamas, was jumping around and flapping a towel at the smoke alarm in an attempt to clear the room and quiet the angry thing down. Mary chuckled and went to the nearest window and opened it to let the smoke out. Bitter cold drifted in and bit Mary's noise. She stuck her hands in the pocket of her hoodie to warm them and turned to smile at her husband. John had run to the oven to turn it off and proceeded to reach into the oven, bare handed, to grab the pan of blackened cinnamon rolls.
"Shit," he cursed again and began shaking his burnt hand. He went over to the sink and began running his hands under cold water. Mary chuckled, got some pot holders and pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. Then she came up behind her husband and hugged him.
"Merry Christmas," she whispered in his ear. He turned off the water and turned around.
"I was going to bring you breakfast in bed," he said. She smiled.
"Why don't we have cereal instead?"
"What?" His expression changed quickly from one of disappointment to a teasing smirk. "You don't want to try and make some?" His hands wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer to him.
"I think our ovens been through enough," she answered. Instead of saying more, he leaned in and kissed her.
"I got you something," he whispered as they pulled away, his breath brushing her lip.
"Really?" Mary asked, opening her eyes but not moving back. They spoke quietly as if talking too loud would break the moment. "Presents for Christmas? When did that start?" John pulled back and gave her a look.
"If you talk back, you're not getting it," he pretended to scold.
"I'm sorry," Mary said. "What'd you get me?" John tried to move around her but she didn't let go. He pushed her hair back behind her ear and smiled. His hands slowly moved down her waist and he kissed her and turned her back to the sink, then he pulled away and went to the kitchen table.
"Close your eyes," he said. Mary did as she was told, still standing by the sink and smiling. John came back and wrapped one arm around his wife and used the other to place something cold and round in Mary's hand. "Alright," he whispered. "Open 'em." Mary opened her eyes and looked down at the small round ornament. On the silver circle pressed into her palm were painted two snowmen kissing and under it read: Our First Christmas Together. Mary looked up at her husband. John smiled proudly at her. She laughed and put her hand on his cheek.
"I love it," she said.
"Our first Christmas together," John said. "How's it going so far?"
"So far?" Mary pretended to think about it. "It's my favorite."
"Burnt breakfast and all?" John asked. Mary chuckled.
"My favorite," she said, "Here's to many more." She kissed him again.