You're All I Need (Underneath the Tree)

The bewildered expression on her face disappeared the moment she crossed the threshold into the Palm Woods lobby, reflecting the fizzing giddy glee rising within her. It could have been attributed to the heavily decorated lobby, the smooth holiday music pumping out of the speakers, the wafting din of revelers and partygoers around the pool, or the rich and inviting scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla, but that would simplify something she couldn't and didn't want to simplify. That would be akin to trying to bottle up an exploding firework, trying to lasso the moon, trying to hold the ocean in your arms. They weren't meant to be contained or tethered, nor her feelings, so she let them carry her forward, wings on her feet beating a steady and sure rhythm until she reached him.

There he sat beneath the tree, like her own gift waiting for her. She didn't know which were brighter, the lights on the tree or the light in his smile when she approached. It wasn't that long since she'd last seen him, fifteen minutes tops, but he still reacted as if it were the first he'd seen her all day. She'd never known someone to be so happy to see her, besides her ferret, so she mentally logged the moment, filing it away in her mind to recall on demand for when she needed a reminder, for when she missed him, for when she just couldn't stop thinking about him, for when she slowed down and took stock on her life and her achievements to help her wade through the muck of despondency.

He, easily, was one of the best.

"Eggnog?" Mickey asked as she sat down, accepting the drink he held out to her. Heat seeped through the cup, sinking into her palms, and she knew right away she was wrong. Still, she tilted the cup towards her and sniffed at the curling, coiling steam lifting to her face. The familiar spicy scent of comfort lowered her shoulders and made her heart utter a content sigh.

"Cider," James replied, following a shake of his head.

She leaned over, bumping his shoulder with hers. "My favorite!"

"I know." His easy tone, like it was no big deal he'd remembered her seasonal drink preference, was betrayed by the twitching at the corner of his mouth. To anyone else the look would draw disgust or exasperation saved for the narcissistic sort; because of course he'd remember and be sure to highlight the occurrence. But Mickey knew James, her James, better than that and saw it for what it truly was: pride.

He was happy to remember something about her; something that to anyone else would be "small" but to her, and him by extension, it was a big thing. She had her preferences like anyone else but even she could admit she was a bit more rigid about them compared to others in the world. It wasn't that she was unyielding; she would settle for other options with no trouble in any given situation, she was raised not be a complainer, but she wouldn't pass up her favorites when they were presented. And James, someone who had a tendency to view his way as the best—or only—option and lived a life of comfort and filling his own needs, well, it didn't surprise her in the beginning he got more misses than hits. It was a bit of a journey to get him to a place where he listened and remembered and executed but, hey, it was part of their story and she wouldn't rewrite it for anything.

"Besides," James continued after swallowing a gulp of his drink, hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, "I didn't get to the eggnog in time so you wouldn't want it anyway."

"Yeah? What makes you say that?" She reached over and pinched a marshmallow from his drink, poppit in into her mouth. A few drips of hot chocolate landed on her tongue, briefly chasing away the light, sweet apple taste.

"Because Lucy spiked it." She immediately dropped her chin, giving him a wide-eyed look. James shrugged. "She thought it would be funny."

Mickey's eyes tracked from side to side, squinting slightly, and then the penny dropped. "Ohhh, that makes Carlos make so much more sense."

"Waddya mean?"

She vaguely gestured out the patio doors to the party by the pool still in full swing as she spoke. "Before I came in here, he, like, pulled me into this big hug, saying how much he loved me and how happy he was we were buds, and then tried to kiss me."

"…Did he?" James asked, eyebrows ticking upwards.

"Don't worry, not like that." She rubbed his knee, giving it a little squeeze. It was a silly idea, both knowing their place in Carlos' life, but she couldn't deny the slight edge to those two words did something to her. She didn't like the idea of belonging to someone, but she did like the idea of him protecting what they had. Even if it was just Carlos. "He was going for my cheek and got my ear. Like, slobbered all over it."

James snorted. "That sounds like Carlitos any time he tries to kiss a girl."

"Don't be mean!" Mickey admonished, removing her hand to lightly swat him on the thigh. Okay, part of that was for her own benefit. He was built solid in more ways than one and it wasn't just his arms she liked on him. "Or I won't give you your gift."

The smile instantly fell from his face and his eyes widened. "Wait. No. I want it. I take it back!"

The rapid shifting of his face made her laugh, as it always did. And maybe she liked messing with him, seeing just how much she could shake him and send him reeling. The fact that she, quiet, unassuming, shy, Mickey Mason could completely undo the confident, self-assured, and steady James Diamond in a second gave her such a rush of delight bordering on smug satisfaction. It was a high she wasn't ready to give up; not when he made his appreciation known later with his tendency to respond in kind and especially not when she knew the power she wielded right at her fingertips.

But as she gazed at him beneath the soft splash of Christmas lights, taking in his long lashes, the perfectly carved slope of his nose, the rosiness to his cheeks, the curl to his petal pink lips, that one mole on his neck placed like a landing zone for her nose to nuzzle, the sharp angle of his jaw which, at the tip, had the perfect dip for her thumb to fit into as if it were made just for her touch, the power faded from her, like a lowered dimmer, the smugness sloughed off and she settled in the comfort of her adoration and the warmth of her contentment being so close to him. The holiday spirit only amplified the fulfillment crackling beneath her skin, like the popping embers from a steady fire in a hearth.

As if drawn to her inner flame, James leaned over and kissed the side of her head. Her eyes briefly closed at the soft touch of his lips to her skin, letting out a pleased hum. His breath ghosted her skin when he chuckled as he always did when she made those involuntary coos of delight. The embarrassment she felt when she first let out such a sound after one of his particularly good kisses evaporated soon after he mentioned how much he liked knowing when he made her happy. She quickly conceded it was much more rewarding reacting outwards than inward in the long run. For the both of them. "Okay, okay, you can still get your gift. Only 'cause I've been dying for you to see what it is."

"Great!" James held out his hand.

Okay, this was it. She wasn't kidding when she said she'd been dying for him to see it, only she meant dying. She'd had plenty of chances to give it to him throughout the day but could never get up the nerve. She'd gotten him a present for Christmas last year, but this was a gift. The words may not mean much to everyone else, but they drew a solid line in the sand for her. She gave Kendall a present. She gave Gustavo a present. She gave her friends and everyone she cared about presents. But James deserved more than a present and it wasn't that she didn't put time or thought into the others, it's that, for James, she put in more.

"Okay, it's just…before I give it to you…I need to say something. And, um, I need to do it now before I forget everything I want to say." As she spoke through stuttering pauses and a stumbling heartbeat, her shaky hands fidgeted with her hair beneath his curious gaze, not unlike a curious puppy. "Um, I even, made some notecards." She twisted to the side, reaching into her back pocket. Once removed, she held the carsd out to him and wiggled them a little as if to prove their existence. "To help me remember but, um, I don't want to use them if I don't have to." She looked down at them for a second and then back up to him. "I hope I don't have to."

He pushed a breath out his nose, sounding close to a single laugh. "That's cute."

A small smile cracked through her nerves. "It really helps you find that adorable and not that I'm a huge dork."

"Oh, you are one, but you're my dork."

It was a tiny word in a simple sentence, but it was enough to bolster her spirits and solidify her resolve and propel her confidence. She looked at him again. This was James, her James, the guy who supported her no matter how silly her dreams or ideas sounded, who treated her victories like his own, who gave her a space to live and breathe and be herself and he accepted it without judgement. Every time she took a step over the cliff, he was waiting to catch her. What was there to be afraid of anymore?

"When I first met you, I didn't like you." Okay, so that wasn't exactly the most romantic opening in the world and, judging by the look on his face, he didn't expect it either. She quickly soothed it with another squeeze to his knee and he shifted closer, eliminating all space between them, their crossed knees practically overlapping, leaning his weight on the one palm he rested on the ground by her right hip, tucking her left side into his right like slotting puzzle pieces. And she paused, leaning on him, a lesson she'd had to learn a few times before it stuck. "I didn't like that you didn't see me as another person, more as someone to win over. And, um, I eventually told you that and then you ended up being the best friend I ever had. And somewhere along the lines I fell for you." She saw it in her mind, the rest of her speech on the notecards but the words she wrote didn't match the words starting to pour out her mouth. "But I was scared of it. Scared of you. And I fought it for so long, and I just kept thinking what if I'm just caught up in this new…thing. The attention and how you made me feel and the newness I'd never felt and then I worried what if the magic fades or it fizzles. I didn't want to let myself have something I felt…I guess I didn't deserve? Or to have something and have it taken away from me. So I talked myself out of it a lot, talked myself out of feeling how I felt about you.

"But…you won me over. Your drive and your passion and your talent intrigued me, but it was how sweet you are and how caring you are and your ability to put yourself out there that kept me interested. You've been patient with me as I tried to figure myself out and I realized I was mainly afraid of my happiness being tied to you. I want to be happy and then be happier with you, like a bonus. And I am. And you are." Her deep breath did nothing to slow the beating of her heart and she wouldn't want it any other way. The day her heart stopped bouncing with joy in his company is the day she'd break her own heart. "So, what I'm trying to say is I like you. A lot. I like how I feel when I'm with you, I like how I feel when I'm not with you, about myself and about us. I'm very lucky that I get to call you my boyfriend and call you mine. I'm not going to question it or talk myself out of it anymore. I'm all in." All her breath rushed out of her at once. "Okay I'm done—wait!" Lifting her notecards to her face, she shuffled through them, turning a couple to the back, eyes shifting from line to line like a shifting typewriter, until she got back to the start, dropping her hands into her lap. "Yeah, I'm done."

James' mouth opened and closed a few times and his eyelashes fluttered in a rapid blink; a loading wheel may as well have been placed over his face with how long they sat in silence. Mickey's fingers gripped the notecards tighter, the thick cardstock bending beneath her grip. Oh shoot. Did she say the wrong thing? Did she come on too strong? Should she have waited for him to say something first? Maybe she should've kept her mouth shut and just given him his gift first. Or she should've stuck to her notes, going off script had never been her forte. "Um, I'm sorry—"

"No." The single word shot out of James' mouth like a canon, cutting straight through her readied apology. "Don't be. That's…" His eyebrows furrowed for a second and he rubbed a hand against his mouth. Dropping his hand, he ducked his head and took her mouth in a sweet kiss, pressing his forehead against hers when he pulled away. "Thank you."

The hum buzzing her lips mimicked the buzzing beneath her skin. "I haven't even given you your gift yet."

"Eh, it's the cherry on top of that."

"Tough act to follow but I hope you like it anyway." Leaning back, she reached beneath the tree until she found the small box, she'd carefully wrapped in sparkling gold paper. She clasped her hands together tight after he took it from her and made it through the wrapping paper in a few seconds. He made a noise of surprise at the dark velvet box tumbling into his palm. He popped open the lid and she bit her bottom lip, waiting as he carefully touched the shiny, slim piece of metal with a stone resting at the end of its length.

"Whoa," he uttered, so quietly she almost didn't hear it.

"It's a hockey stick," she jumped in, the words bursting out of her. Not that she needed to explain, she'd only stared at the necklace a million times in its glass case at the mall until she managed to save up enough to buy it after many extra doubles she pulled at Chez Fancee. Her feet hurt for days afterwards but it was all worth it seeing the stunned expression on James' face. "And a hockey puck, obviously. But, um, it's also something else. If you look at it a certain way, the hockey stick is a J and the puck is—"

"A diamond," he finished for her.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yeah."

"This is the best gift I've ever gotten."

Even as she saw the glow in his eyes and heard the sincerity in his words, she rebuffed him. "You're just saying that." Habits die hard.

"I'm really not." He closed the lid with a heavy snap, clutching it tight in his palm. "One year for Christmas my mom got me a Cartier watch and my dad got me a grand piano. This"—he shook the box—"is so much better than that."

He didn't need to fill in the blank. She'd heard enough about his parents for the answer to form in her head: the gifts replaced spending time with him. As if they were trying to buy his love and attachment, to prove which one was better than the other. And maybe a little part of her thought she could prove he didn't need them with her gift, that he had a better family with the guys and Gustavo and Kelly and her sisters and her. So she mentally wiped away her denial and took his words as fact and sealed them away in the special piece of her heart he carved a space into, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss.

He balanced the box on his knee and reached for the wrapped gift by his side on the floor, decorated in navy blue and covered in bright silver snowflakes. "I don't think this can measure up but…" She clicked her tongue at him and took the gift, using a finger to pry up the edges of the wrapping paper. She felt his gaze, steady and fixed, on the side of her face as she pulled the paper and a book fell into her palm.

Despite its rough surface, the cover was cool against her palm. The edges, a faded gray from the surrounding black, had a few frayed threads and when she opened the book, flipping through its yellowed and creased pages, the scent of old paper and stale dust met her nose. Stark, dark ink sat atop of the weathered and stained paper, aiding the words leaping off the pages and grabbing her attention.

Soul is oftentimes a battlefield…

I could be the peacemaker in your soul…

If either your sails or your rudder be broken…

And like the phoenix rise above its own ashes…

Wait.

She snapped the book shut between her palms, sending another plume of old paper and past lives into the air. Lifting her hand, she carefully read the gold embossed words pressed into the cover: The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran.

"James," she managed to utter.

"It's the right one, right?" he asked. "You mentioned in class once you liked that poem—"

"On Reason and Passion, yeah," Mickey agreed. In fact, she'd even said on more than one occasion she wanted the very last line of the poem to be her first tattoo. She'd read it for the first time a few years ago and it was the first poem to ever stick with her, the first poem that let her realize the power of words, which is why she tended to choose hers carefully and covet them until she needed to be heard. "Where'd you find this? This is an early edition."

"I talked to Miss Collins, and she said the best place to look would probably be a swat meet. Kelly went with me to one and we found it there after a few tries. Though, I have to say, it's a bit of a letdown. I thought there'd be more police officers and stuff there."

What? Mickey's head jerked backwards as she blinked, taking in his words and, before long, an amused smile twitched at her mouth. "James."

"Yeah?"

"It's not a swa-tuh meet, it's a swa-puh meet. Like…you swap things. You barter. You pass along gently used and secondhand items and collectables and things. It's…it's not a place for cops to gather. That's a donut shop."

James' head slowly turned to face out towards the Palm Woods lobby, his eyes going from a confused squint to a widened realization. "Ohhhh,"

"You're so cute. Thanks for this book all the same; I love it." Leaning over, Mickey rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his bicep (perfectly encased in the tight sleeves of his gray sweater might she add), sinking in the warmth of the holiday spirit wrapping them up in a bow. "Merry Christmas, Handsome."

"Back atcha, Gorgeous."


a/n - Wrote this for myself as a reward for getting through the holidays but i thought it was cute so why not share? Merry Christmas!