"Street!" Chris calls, running a hand through her hair as she moves from the bathroom to their bedroom. "Are you ready? Helena will kill me if we're late."
The door creaking open, Chris sees Street perched on the edge of the bed, shirtless, and thumbs grazing over the woven red and green fabric that sits folded on his lap. Chris holds in a sigh and crosses the carpet to sit next to Street and nudge him with her shoulder.
"You're lucky Helena didn't demand we wear matching sweaters." Chris jokes, lips quirking into a sad smile when Street huffs a laugh but doesn't react more. His skin is hot under her hand when she wraps an arm around his shoulders and presses her cheek into him, her other hand stilling his fingers.
"I promise it'll be good. My family's been talking about you coming to Christmas for a month."
Street looks over at Chris, his hazel eyes soft and lined with tears.
"The last Christmas I had with any family was Nate and Buck. Ten, maybe twelve, years ago?"
Leaning up to kiss his cheek, Chris takes the sweater from Street and shakes it out. She raises her eyebrows until he lifts his arm for her to work it onto him, straightening his hair once it's on.
"That's why you deserve this one. My family loves you. I love you." Chris promises.
Street pulls Chris onto his lap, making her laugh loudly and feeling the sound wash over him and cut away all of his anxieties.
"I love you, too."
Lips meeting, their hands come to rest on the other's cheeks, Street pressing closer until Chris moans. She has half a mind to forget everyone else, but her free hand runs over the unmistakable shape of a sequin Christmas tree, and both are breathing heavily when she pulls back.
"I'm not kidding. Helena will kill me if we're late."
Catching his breath, Street smiles, watching Chris stand and her light wash jeans as she walks toward the front door. Chris stops in the kitchen, slinging a back of gifts wrapped in shiny, patterned paper over her shoulder and grabbing her truck keys from the bowl next to the door.
"Street!" She yells, again, breaking him from the fantasies in head and bringing him jogging down the hallway with an apologetic smile.
"Grab the wine." Chris directs before either one of them can get distracted again. "I called in a few unused favors with Hondo and Rocker so you're not on call today."
Pouting, Street's face breaks into a grin, his eyes sparkling.
"You just want to be the reason I'm taking this sweater off." He teases.
Chris rolls her eyes but blushes, and the sight settles in Street's chest. Pulling the wine from the fridge, Street follows Chris to her truck and leans into her when she stretches across the console to kiss his cheek.
"Don't worry, you're gonna love it."
Lights are twinkling through the big living room window when Chris parks, and Street sees Chris's relatives he's met at parties and dinners talking and laughing in their glow. He takes deep breaths until Chris covers his hand with hers.
"I'm not going to lie and tell you Christmas isn't stressful, but once we get in there you'll be fine. I'm pretty sure they're more excited to see you than me."
Chris's features are soft, gentle, and she's been doing so much to try to give him a real holiday season for the first time that Street exhales and then nods.
"Good," Chris says with a wide smile. "You give Helena the wine, I'll put the presents under the tree, and we'll go from there."
Stepping out of Chris's truck, the Los Angeles winter is as warm as normal, but a festive spirit floats in the air like Street imagines snowflakes do in places cold enough to get snow. After she gets the bags from the backseat, Chris's hand finds Street's and gives him a squeeze. She keeps glancing at him in her periphery as they walk to the door, seeing every emotion from fear to excitement flash across his face.
Kissing him softly one more time, Chris opens the front door to a bright, festive mess of holiday sweaters and jazzy music and kids running around so fast their Santa hats fall off.
"Merry Christmas!" Chris yells, getting the attention of Helena and Sarzo in the kitchen as well as an army of her nieces and nephews. Street's heart skips a beat at the sight of Chris so relaxed, so happy and in her element with her family, and again when she doesn't let him go until Helena pulls him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you for the wine!" Helena beams at Street before turning to Chris and joking, "you're late."
Chris rolls her eyes and mouths something to Street about how she told you so, making him laugh. Helena continues.
"But the sweaters look great. Put everything down and I could use some help in the kitchen?"
Nodding, Chris unpacks the gifts and stands up just in time for the kids to swarm her, pulling at her hands and begging her to come play with them.
"Hey, hey!" She wrangles them. "Necesito ayudar Helena, pero," Chris stops, looking over her shoulder at Street whose eyes are wide but he's smirking, "why don't you all take Street and show him some of our traditions, yeah?"
Directive in mind, the group leaves Chris to stick to Street instead, only stopping when Chris grabs his arm and leans in over little heads to whisper in his ear.
"Nerf guns are outside only, don't let them gang up on you."
They make quick work of dragging him out the sliding glass doors to the backyard where more of Chris's relatives sit, some talking and some egging on the kids with blue and orange plastic guns.
"You threw him to the wolves, huh, Chrissy?" Helena asks when Chris walks into the kitchen, watching the yard through the window. Chris shrugs, and then winces when a foam bullet hits him square in the chest. It turns into a smile a second later when Street lifts the guilty party who jumps at his legs.
"He's good with kids, and they'll ask him less questions than Uncle Wiso and Aunt Renee."
Helena can't argue with the look that Chris gives her, and she motions to the top shelf for Chris to pull down an extra baking dish.
"You're on lemon bars and chocolate chip cookies first. Once those are in the oven, we need to finish the casserole and the salad, and then the main course."
Chris nods, pouring herself a glass of dry, spicy wine and taking a sip. After, she carefully sets the glass dishes on the counter and scours the cabinets for a mixing bowl.
The two women move around one another like a practiced dance that Sarzo and other relatives weave their way through. Years of folding together recipes comes back to Chris like riding a bike, and Helena's voice over the music reminds Chris of when she was little.
"No running!" Chris and Helena both yell as Tomas chases Mirabel over the tile, their laughs mingling with everything else in the air. They go tearing into the backyard, nearly knocking over Street, and Chris's cousin, Gabrielle.
Chris looks over at Helena. "Cookies?"
"Cookies." Helena agrees.
Gathering cooled sugar cookies, bowls of brightly colored frosting, and endless containers of sprinkles, Chris gets everything set out at the kids' table. She checks that nothing has made its way onto her white sweater, satisfied, and bangs on the side of the house once she's on the porch.
"Cookies!" Chris yells, like a bell that brings all of the kids running like a storm up the stairs. Blocking the doorway until the group settles, Chris laughs when they go inside and she looks up to see Street, dazed.
"You okay?" She checks. Street shakes off the lingering sensations of kids hanging off his limbs and the cool foam bullets that are now strewn in a mess across the yard.
"Yeah," he smiles, full of teeth and dimples. Chris opens her mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Mirabel brushing against her leg and looking between the two adults.
"What's up, poquito?" Chris asks as she buries her hand in Mirabel's hair.
"I want Uncle Street to decorate a cookie with me. So do Maddy and Joseph."
Street freezes at being called Uncle, his heart melting as soon as the initial shock wears off. His jaw drops as he searches for something to say, and Chris is looking at him like he's her entire world.
"Of course!" Street finally finds his words. Stepping to the side, Chris lets Street walk in before her, her hand rubbing small circles on his back.
"Glad to see you in one piece, Jim," Helena says when Street passes. Chris rolls her eyes again, but runs a hand over Helena's shoulders, too, and kisses her cheek.
"Let me take Street cider and then I'll start the casserole."
In the midst of the oven opening and the doorbell ringing, Chris loses track of time. More of her relatives filter in, the sun hanging low in the sky as the winter sunset encroaches early, and noise from the living room swells and ebbs.
Someone's tiny hand latching onto one of her belt loops, Chris looks down. Maddy whispers something, and Chris leans for her to repeat it where Chris can hear.
"Uncle Street made a mess, Aunt Chrissy." Maddy confesses, followed by a sweet giggle.
Uncle Street stops Chris in her tracks just like it did the first time, the air pushing itself out of her lungs before her body relaxes further into the sound of it, wanting to stay there forever.
"Uncle Street made a mess," Chris rolls the words over her tongue as she repeats them, and sees Helena's eyes widen at the qualification.
"Well," Chris says, a lilt in her tone as she hoists her niece up on her side. "Let's go see what we can do, huh?"
Chris turns back to the counter to finish her wine first, and, when she turns again, Street's standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.
Green frosting is smeared along his cheek, and his hands are a mess of food coloring. Squinting, Chris thinks she sees the reflection of bright blue sprinkles in his hair, and a snort escapes.
"You sure are a mess." Chris comments, looking him up and down and smiling when she lands on Street's eyes. Street shakes his head, the sprinkles falling from his hair down his shoulders and landing on the floor.
"You should see the cookies," Street teases. Humming, Chris takes another step towards him, stopping when Maddy squeals and points upwards.
"Mistletoe!"
Chris's eyes flick to the plastic plant hanging by a ribbon on a nail Sarzo put in the wall before she was born. Laughing fills the air as Chris presses a kiss to Maddy's cheek, the sound of a camera shuttering capturing the moment.
Maddy giggles, her face buried in the collar of Chris's sweater.
"Now you have to kiss him, Aunt Chrissy!"
"Oh, I do?" Chris questions, a blush and toothy smile coming to Maddy's face when she nods again.
Leaning across the doorway, Chris's lips meet Street's. She tastes sugar and apples and when they part, each reads the wanting in the other's eyes.
Satisfied, Maddy unwraps her legs to slide down Chris and goes back to the table, giggling with the other kids. Now that she's hands free, Chris steps closer, wets her thumb in her mouth and then swipes it across Street's cheek to collect the frosting in a small glob.
"What are you going to do with that?" Street asks, voice low. Over his shoulder, Chris sees an audience of her relatives, young and old.
The gold in his eyes stands out under the kitchen light, and Chris feels a spark in her stomach that easily moves to her heart, growing as it does.
"Can't waste perfectly good frosting," she rasps, lips wrapping around her thumb once more. Time seems to slow between them as Chris sucks off all the frosting, only breaking back into reality at the popping sound her finger and mouth make when she's done.
A blush creeps up Chris's chest, her nieces and nephews giggling and Tomas winking at her from behind Street's shoulder. Her Aunt Renee looks scandalized, and Chris knows half the neighborhood will hear about this by New Year's.
But a speck of green lingers on the side of her nail, and Chris licks that off too, much to Street's delight. Helena clearing her throat makes Chris step back on instinct.
"PG, please, Christina. If you're done, wash your hands and help me finish the rice?"
Street laughs, rich and husky, at how Chris's demeanor changes in response to Helena's tone.
"You should wash your hands too," Chris smirks, never one to leave the last word.
"Are you sure? You don't want a hug?"
Eyes widening, Chris takes another step backwards into the kitchen, almost bumping into Helena. Street holds his hands out, painted with red and green and purple.
"Absolutely not. Street, don't." Chris says as she twists her way past her Aunt to the other side of the kitchen table. Not getting involved, Helena steps so that she's by the back screen door, watching like other relatives who peek through the doorways.
The kitchen is small, Street backing Chris into a corner between the table and the counter where the microwave sits.
"Street, no! This is white!" Chris's shrill voice pleads, trying to protect the white and light blue snowflake pattern on her sweater.
Stopping in front of her, Street sighs and considers his options.
"Fine. But one more kiss?"
Chris narrows her eyes and straightens up, having slid down the wall in an extra measure to get away if need be. Street raises his eyebrows, palms to Chris in surrender.
Her body melts into his when they kiss, though she keeps it short to avoid another look from Helena. Parting, both smile easily at the other, and Chris is lost enough in Street's eyes that he paints her nose green too fast for her to stop him.
"I hate you." Chris says, lips set and rolling her eyes at Street's smug look. He tilts his head at her words.
"I don't know if you do." Street teases, and then sees Maddy and Mirabel in the doorway. "And I'm pretty sure lying is how people end up on the naughty list."
"The naughty list?" Chris feigns disbelief at his audacity, brushing against Street on her way to the sink. "I think turning someone green also gets you on the naughty list."
Bumping Chris with his hip, Street joins her at the sink and she pumps soap into his palms. Done, Chris dries her hands and wipes her nose, looking to Helena for confirmation that she's all clean.
"Yes. Now if you're done, the rice?"
"Yes," Chris agrees. With all Chris's focus on the task at hand, Street dries himself with a kitchen towel and crosses back into the living room, saying hello to Chris's cousin Sal and sitting next to Sarzo on the couch.
"How are you faring?" Sarzo asks. It's an innocent question, though Street knows they're familiar with his background, and can tell that Sarzo is asking about more than just the relatives and holiday nerves.
Taking stock of himself, surrounded by Chris's family and with her soft singing voice sometimes cutting through the rest of the chatter, Street gives Sarzo a closed-lip smile.
"I'm really great, thank you. You guys do this for Christmas every year?"
"Mmhmm," Sarzo nods, drinking his beer. "Sometimes my brother Wiso hosts, but he just had his other hip replaced, and," stopping to look around and make sure no one that shouldn't can hear, Sarzo looks back at Street, "Helena and Chrissy make a much better spread."
The thought of Helena's cooking is enough to make Street salivate, and he smiles at Sarzo.
"Chris helps cook every year? She didn't mention it to me."
"Every year since Chrissy was born. Helena would have her mix the cookies together once she started toddling to make sure she didn't get hurt. The older Chrissy got, the more they'd do together. Tomas and I have tried to help but we always end up kicked out."
Sarzo's looking towards the kitchen, towards Helena, in a way that Street can only imagine he looks at Chris most of the time, and he smiles at the image of little Chris celebrating Christmas.
"So, Jim," Street turns his head at his name, face-to-face with Chris's Aunt Renee, her lipstick too pink and perfume too strong. "Have you and Chrissy talked about marriage?"
"Uh," Street sputters, face blazing hot as lava.
Gabrielle's voice cuts through everything else, offering him an out that Street literally jumps up to take.
"Hey, Street! Would you mind helping me get the rest of the presents from my trunk?"
"Yeah! Sorry, Aunt Renee. I—sorry."
Street smiles awkwardly at Renee and sets down his beer. Slipping his boots and jacket on, Street steps onto the front porch where Gabrielle is smiling at him under the light.
"There are presents in the trunk, but Stephen and I got the same line of questions from Renee at every holiday until he proposed. Figured I'd save you while I could."
Gabrielle squeezes Street's bicep as he breathes a sigh of relief and thanks her.
"Not that it matters what you and Chris do," Gabrielle continues, "but I can tell she's happy. You're a lucky guy."
"Don't I know it." Street smiles, catching a look at Chris where she's pulling something out of the oven and laughing with Helena.
After another hour of mingling with some and dodging others, the football game on the TV is traded for a yule log and Chris sends Sarzo to the kitchen before announcing:
"Get to the table!"
Chris expertly moves around the rush of kids and her other relatives as they appear from every corner of the house to take their seats. Unsure of where to go, Street stands at the end of the couch until Tomas pats him on the shoulder.
"Chris always sits to the left of the head of the table."
Grateful for the direction, Street nods at Tomas and slides along the wall to sit down, calmed further when Tomas sits on his other side. Bottles of sparkling wine and beers are passed around as Chris, Helena, and Sarzo bring out countless plates and bowls that immediately start moving as well. Everything makes its way to the kids' table and back to the head when the trio finally sit down.
Street pours Chris a glass of red, seeing her meet eyes with Tomas who gives her a subtle nod. Scooping rice onto her plate and then handing the bowl to Sarzo, Chris sets a hand on Street's shoulder.
"You're good?" She checks, her body relaxing after the marathon of cooking.
"Better than ever."
Chris softens as the rest of her concerns that her family would be too much fade away. Once grace has been said and dinner has started, Chris takes Street's free hand under the table.
It reminds Street of the kitchen at HQ after drills, the sound of forks on plates and criss-crossed conversations underlined with laughter that his attention bounces between. Chris keeps looping him in where she can, and redirecting whenever she hears someone ask Street a question she's always been annoyed by when they've asked her cousins' partners.
Seconds and thirds go around, Helena asking Street if he's had enough to eat.
"I think I'll be full until next Christmas. Thank you so much."
Helena winks at him as if she's always known this would happen.
"We're glad we finally got you over here for the holiday. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," Street responds. Feeling Chris's eyes on him, Street looks over and can't help but kiss her despite the disapproving look he's sure they're getting from some and the way the kids start mushing their lips together in mock disgust.
"Thank you," he whispers, assured by Chris's smile that it doesn't get lost in the noise.
With dinner finished, the table cleared, and desserts laid out like a wonderland, Street finds himself on the couch once more, stomach full, heart warm, and Chris on his lap. Sarzo sits across from them, asleep in a recliner, and Helena shakes her head at them both when she joins them.
"He does all the shopping," Chris offers as a lame excuse, snuggling further into Street. "Merry Christmas, Aunt Helena."
Chris's voice is soft, Street picking up the quiet content in her tone, and Helena runs a hand over his shoulder after patting Chris's hand.
"Merry Christmas, Baby Girl."
Street would be sure Chris is asleep if not for the constant graze of her thumb against his knuckles. Maddy runs up and offers them each a candy cane, which Chris takes gratefully and Street crunches just to annoy her.
"That'll also get you on the naughty list," she murmurs, and Street laughs.
"If the naughty list gets me you," he whispers, breath hot in her ear, goosebumps pricking up on her arms and neck, "I don't care."
Their lips meet in a minty kiss, parted by the flash of a camera. Pulling back, Chris scrunches her nose at Street like she's forgotten something.
"Family picture time."
Her cousin takes a million candid pictures of everyone before attaching the camera to a tripod and demanding they all squeeze in front of the couch.
"Say cheese!" Someone calls, all of them following the instruction except for Street, who's promptly called out by Joseph.
"Uncle Street didn't say cheese!" Joseph snitches, pulling everyone's attention to the couple. Her cousin gets up to reset the timer and, after Chris finishes laughing, Street gives her a pleading look, recalling a conversation he knows she remembers about his smile looking goofy.
"You heard the kid," Chris shrugs, but then leans in closer.
"I love your smile. For me?"
Street sighs though he's helpless against Chris's wide eyes and the way she pouts, and even more helpless against her fingernails dancing over the pressure point in his neck that's just ticklish enough it makes him putty in Chris's hands. Kissing Street's cheek to encourage the sweet, dimpled smile to stay, the side of Chris's head rests against Street's chin when the timer starts to click down again.
Like he's checking their work, Joseph's head whips back to them after the flash, turning back to a conversation about bikes with Mirabel once he's satisfied.
The group disperses back to the dining room table and other furniture, but Chris stays where she is, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of Street's neck.
"You're really happy?" Chris asks, sure everyone else is too enthralled with something else to be paying them any attention.
"Chris," Street cradles her face in his hand, feeling like he's looking at her soul when he looks into her eyes, and giving her the same permission. "This is the best Christmas I've had. Yes. Thank you. Even the sweater's growing on me."
Chris's lips flutter lightly over Street's jawline.
"Good."
Scanning the room, taking in the kids playing with new toys and Gabrielle swaying in Stephen's arms while Sarzo spins Helena around, Street soaks in everything he can. When his gaze falls to Chris, features relaxed and smiling as Tomas is buried under her nephews, he nuzzles his nose into her hair.
"We might have to match next year, as long as I get to take yours off after."
Chris perking up, Street chuckles at her eyes drawing up his body, stopping on his lips and then his eyes.
"You're not on call tomorrow, either, you know, and I hear Santa's got something for you in the morning if you can wait that long. Merry Christmas, Street."
Lips nipping at his ear, Chris feels his muscles flex where he holds her.
"Merry Christmas, Chris, but I don't think the people you say are on the naughty list are very good at waiting."
-x-
hello! thank you so much for reading, and i hope you enjoyed! to be so honest, i posted this on ao3 and swore i uploaded it here, but i guess i didn't? whoops.
either way, i hope you enjoyed! comments/favs appreciated. there's not great way to reply in a comment chain on ffn, but i read and cherish every comment i get, and i love writing for this fandom. i looked at my story stats and insane how many people from all over the world have read these guys, and i feel so honored and grateful, so thank you! ❤️
at least one more christmas story that i'll have up within the next few days, and i don't have anything planned for a new year's fic, but maybe! prompts always welcome.
xo, A