"Michael?"
Michael looked toward Chuck, drinking from a mug of heated apple cider, standing by the fireplace. "Hm?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Why are you wearing a skirt?" Chuck tilted his head.
It was a nice skirt—heavy fabric, dark blue and hanging just past Michael's knees, with pleats. He wore a thick, cream colored sweater with it, too, and some black wool socks. He turned to face Chuck more fully and asked, "Am I not supposed to wear skirts?" His eyebrows drew together in an endearingly confused way, making his forehead wrinkle. He sipped at his cider.
Chuck raised his hands up, and said, "No, it's fine!" He scratched the back of his head, and smiled at Michael, and moved close to him so he could lean against his shoulder. "It looks nice. It's just not... something you see every day, I guess?" He shrugged. Slipped his arm through Michael's and watched the fire flicker in the grate. "I wasn't expecting it, was all. Where'd you get it?"
"Lucifer found it when he took me to the mall—when we bought your gifts." Michael stuck his nose in Chuck's hair, kissing the top of his head. "You smell like peppermint."
Grinning, Chuck tilted his face up for a kiss, and after Michael obliged he said, "I was putting peppermint in my cocoa and I accidentally spilled the bottle on myself." He kissed Michael again. Brought a hand up to run his fingers through Michael's dark hair, running a thumb over one of the white streaks. "Lucifer startled me."
With a quiet laugh, Michael turned into Chuck's touch, and brought their lips together, setting his mug on the mantle so he could curl his hands against Chuck's hips. They kissed, softly, for a while—neither kept track. It was just... a while. A few minutes of standing by the fire, parting only for a second or two at a time. Simple and gentle. At one point, Michael reached up to take off Chuck's glasses and set them beside the mug, and went right back to kissing him. Chuck made a pleased noise in the back of his throat.
A slight shuffle came from the doorway, and Michael broke away to look up for a moment. Chuck glanced over, too, at Lucifer leaning on the wood frame of the door between the living room and the hallway. He wrinkled his nose, Said, "Next time you scare me like that I'm gonna dump a cup of coffee on you." But he smiled and held his hand out.
Lucifer smirked. "I only asked what you were doing." He walked over, took Chuck's hand, and joined them by the fire, fingers white and cold. He kissed Michael, and then Chuck. "You should be more aware of your surroundings." He winked and kissed Chuck's knuckles.
"Whatever." Chuck let himself be sandwiched between his two swans—ex-swans—and let his eyes drift shut as well, content in the warmth from the fire and Michael's bulk. Even though Lucifer added a little chill edge wherever he touched. Still nice. Chuck leaned against Michael. Sighed happily as Lucifer began to rub his back, soothingly. After a few long moments, he asked, "So, what did you get me for Christmas?"
Michael shook his head. "You know it's a secret." He kissed Chuck's neck, and wrapped his arms tightly around him. "A surprise. You'll see in the morning."
Chuck hummed. "Fiiiine." He grinned. Tilted his head back to kiss Michael, and reached for Lucifer, to press their mouths together too. Lucifer nipped at his lip with a smirk and moved to kiss Michael as well, a little more fervently. Michael tangled his fingers in Lucifer's hair. Between them, Chuck snorted. He blushed a little, and grumbled, "Are you just gonna pretend I don't exist and make out over me?"
Laughing, Lucifer ducked his head briefly to press cold lips to Chuck's cheek. "Awww, are you feeling neglected?" He cupped Chuck's face in his hands. Kissed the tip of his nose, and everywhere but his mouth. "Poor Chuck."
Chuck pouted at him, then shook his head and smiled.
They continued to kiss, back and forth, until Chuck yawned so wide his jaw crackled.
Lucifer clucked his tongue, and Michael insisted that Chuck let himself be carried—Chuck figured, why not let himself be pampered, and allowed Michael to pick him up. Wrapped his legs around Michael's waist and clung tight, leaning his cheek on Michael's shoulder. Lucifer trailed behind them, as Michael carried Chuck up the stairs, and herded them into the bedroom. They all changed, and bundled up together in bed, surrounded by layers of blankets in the darkness. The moonlight glittered through the white feathers of Lucifer's cape-turned-curtain, and sent soft little sparkles against the bedroom wall.
Chuck fell asleep quickly.
...
It wasn't until noon that Chuck woke up—and only because he really, really had to pee. But he was so comfortable, pressed between Lucifer and Michael. Their extreme temperatures, as always, had melded to keep them all at a nice, mellow warmth under the blankets, and Chuck didn't want to go out into the cold air. But eventually, he gave in. His bladder wouldn't allow him to stay in bed, so he squirmed his way out of the blankets and crawled over Michael so he could get to the bathroom.
When he came back, Michael had sat up—had likely been awake since nine at the latest—and Lucifer was grumbling incoherently into his pillow. Chuck wrapped himself in his ratty bathrobe, curling his toes. He decided to put on a pair of wool socks. They turned out to be the ones Michael had been wearing the night before, but that was an unimportant detail. Chuck peered around Lucifer's feathers, out the window. Snow. He smiled. Everything looked so still and calm, bright, and a little silvery.
He shivered. Michael heaved himself out of bed and came over to wrap his arms around Chuck, emanating heat and affection. Chuck smiled.
After a few minutes, the three of them went downstairs, to start the fire and make breakfast. They gathered around the tiny Christmas tree in the living room with plates of eggs, and Lucifer passed out two boxes to Chuck and one to Michael, and kept his own box.
Chuck unwrapped his gifts eagerly. A hardcover copy of House of Leaves, all shiny and heavy, from Michael. And a new bathrobe from Lucifer—fluffy brown fabric, soft to the touch and smelling a little of vanilla. Chuck put it on immediately. He fidgeted while Lucifer and Michael opened his gifts to them.
He'd made them each the same little thing: One small paper ticket each, with the words, "1 day spent doing whatever you want (unless I don't want to)" printed on the front. And on the back, "I'm talking about sex."
Lucifer nearly choked on his coffee laughing. He wiped his mouth and murmured, "I'm using this as soon as possible." Chuck kicked him in the arm.
Michael just rolled his eyes and slipped the ticket into his pocket.
