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For perhaps the first time in his life, Lee is looking forward to Christmas.

It was never really anything he paid much attention to before. If anything, all the garish decorations and twinkling lights annoyed him. Or maybe he told himself that's what it was, because seeing all the happy families and loving couples pressed in on some bruised part of his heart that ached with the desire to know what it felt like to be loved like that.

And now, by some miracle, he is.

This is the second Christmas that he's known George, but the first one doesn't really count. That was back when they were still pretending that their whole arrangement was casual, and fuckbuddies didn't really spend the holidays together. This year is different. Lee finds himself delighted to explain all the strange rituals of a modern Christmas to George, who seems fascinated and perturbed in equal measure.

They decorated a tree that Lee had determinedly gone out and chopped down, wanting to have the whole experience. The thing is kind of a mess of tinsel and twinkling lights, limbs weighed down with baubles he found at the thrift store. but it's also the best looking Christmas tree he's ever seen. Because it's theirs.

Now it's Christmas Eve and Lee has made a hearty roast for dinner, and a large batch of heavily spiked eggnog. They're curled up together on the sofa with an old Christmas movie playing on TV. George is a little tipsy, just enough for him to be loose-limbed and pink-cheeked, and Lee smiles as he presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

"So, are you ready for Santa to come down your chimney?" Lee teases, smiling at his own joke and pressing another kiss to George's hairline, one hand coming up to gently cradle his chin. “Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, sweetheart.”

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“Oh, can you? How gracious,” Lee teases, tickling George again and feeling a rush of joy when he gets that beautiful, gummy smile in return. George looks so soft in his oversized sweater, with his clean hair flopping onto his forehead. His guard is down, expression soft and open, and Lee finds himself a bit dumbstruck as he stares.

Being entrusted with this version of George may be the best gift he’s ever been given.

“Most people do presents on Christmas morning. Some people do them the night before,” Lee says after a moment, swallowing nervously as he thinks about the small box hidden in his sock drawer. “What are your thoughts?”

Privately, he loves it when Lee looks at him like that, especially when he's relaxed and calm and making no attempt at artifice. It feels like a gift. It's something he's never had before. He sees the signs of nervousness in Lee's face when he asks his question.

"I'm not sure that I have a preference," he admits. He's got Lee a handful of small things but the thing that he's most excited about, he hasn't wrapped, because he didn't want Lee to notice that it was gone. "Then again. I do love gifts."

"Do you?" Lee asks dryly, smirking and pressing a kiss to George's forehead. He got George a few things, eager as always to spoil George however he can. He can't give George gemstones or fancy clothes, but he tries to find things that show how much George is appreciated, how much he's seen and loved.

"We can do one tonight and the rest in the morning," Lee decides, because he doesn't want to wait. He shifts out from under George and sits up, shifting to cross his legs under himself. He knows George got him something because they briefly mentioned exchanging gifts when discussing Christmas plans, but Lee has no idea what it is. "Do you want to go first? Mine's in the bedroom."

"I do," says George, smugly, and then Lee asks if he wants to go first. He nods, shifting so that his position is mirroring Lee's, his legs crossed in front of him. "I love you," he says. "More than anything or anyone in the world. More than I've ever loved anything. I...wanted to give you something to remind you of that." He shifts, tugging the gold ring, set with a lapis lazuli, off his index finger. He holds it out in the palm of his hand. "I want you to have this. To wear it."

Lee really had no idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this. The declaration of his love feels like enough of a gift in itself, but then George is pulling the ever present ring off of his pinky finger and holding it out to Lee and he blinks, stunned into rigid silence as he stares down at it. The ring goes blurry due to the sudden tears welling up in his eyes, and he has to swallow past the lump in his throat before he's able to speak.

"I-- really? Of course I'd wear it, but you have so little from home," Lee reminds him in a thick voice, tearing his gaze away from the ring to look up at George, reaching out to put a hand on his knee. "You really mean it?" He sniffs and swallows hard, trying his best not to cry. "Fuck, I love you."

He hadn't been expecting Lee to cry but, somehow, he isn't surprised when he does. He reaches out to brush a tear away from Lee's cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"I don't need anything from home," he says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "You're my home, love."

"I swear I never used to be such a crybaby. You broke me," he says with a wet chuckle, rolling his eyes at himself as George wipes a tear from his face. He's sure that it has something to do with feeling safe around George. It had taken some time for Lee to even recognize that safety for what it was. It had been an entirely unfamiliar feeling.

Lee lets out a shaky breath and looks down at the ring again, swallowing as he reaches out to slip the tip of his middle finger into the band as it rests on George's palm. He presses down and flips the ring onto his finger and lifts his hand, reaching out to slide the ring into place. It looks entirely out of place on his tattooed hand, nails flecked with chipped black. But at the same time, somehow, it looks like it belongs.

"You just-- wanted me to wear your ring?" Lee asks after a long moment of admiring it, looking up at George's face again, eyes soft and glistening wet.

George smiles as he watches Lee settle the ring on his finger. His hands are bigger than Lee's, so it makes sense that they would have to wear it differently.

"I do," he says, no doubt of it in his mind. "And I think it suits you very well."

It’s not just a ring. It’s a declaration, perhaps a promise, and Lee stares down at it again before surging forward to throw his arms around George’s neck in a tight hug.

“I can’t believe you still love me,” he admits, because he was so sure that George finding out the truth would have been the end of everything. It’s not as if Lee could have blamed him if it was.

But it wasn’t. He’s still here.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lee promises, turning his head to press a kiss to George’s cheek. “I’ll keep it safe.”

Lee throws himself into George's arms, and george wraps both arms around his waist, holding him close.

"I know you will," he says, smiling. "And, when you look it, it will remind you that you are a choice I made, my love. i chose every part of this."

"God, shut up," Lee says with a watery laugh, sniffing and pressing his face to George's neck. You are a choice I made, my love. "That's the best thing anyone has ever said to me."

He clutches at George for a moment longer and then pulls back enough to put a hand on his face, smiling at the sight of the ring on his finger, shining gold against George's perfect skin. His other hand finds George's, now bare of jewelry with the faintest tan line on his index finger. It makes Lee laugh a little once he realizes that it won't be empty for long. Lee had hesitated for a moment before settling on his gift, because George already had a ring that he wore all the time. Little did he know.

"Okay, hold on," he says excitedly, cupping George's face in both hands and kissing him soundly on the mouth before getting up off of the sofa to head into their room. The ring he found is nestled in a black velvet box with a blue bow around it, nestled under all of Lee's stupid graphic tees. He holds it against his chest as he returns to George, feeling nervous until he sees the ring on his finger and instantly relaxes.

"You'd think we planned this," Lee says with a smile, sitting back down and holding the box out to George. "Merry Christmas."

Edited 2026-01-05 21:51 (UTC)

George takes the box from Lee and opens it, staring at the contents for a long moment. It's beautiful, gold and blue enamel, a heart surrounded by flowers. He lets out a soft breath. "It's gorgeous, love," he says. He takes it out of the box and slips it onto his empty index finger. "And it fits."

He holds his hand up so that Lee can see it.

Lee holds his breath as George opens the box and stares at the ring, then lets it out in a rush as George smiles. Lee grins back, eyes crinkling at the corners. As soon as he saw the ring, he knew that he had to give it to George. It just seemed so perfect, so very them.

"Yeah, I had to get it resized," he says as George holds up his hand. The sight of the ring sitting there makes Lee feel a little like he's been kicked in the chest, but in a good way. His smile goes almost shy and he reaches out to take George's fingers in his hand, leaning in to press a kiss to his knuckles, and another to the ring. "I know these hands better than my own by now."

He smiles, watching Lee, cupping the side of his face with his free hand. He likes the way their hands look together, the rings, everything. "I got you some other little things," he says. "But this felt like the most important thing."

"Yeah, me too," Lee replies, breath catching slightly as George's other hand comes to rest on his face, thumbing at the freckles on his cheekbone. His heart is beating so fast, but he's used to that from George by now. It used to be that he only associated the thudding of his heart with fear, but not anymore.

"You're the most important thing," he says without quite intending to, chuckling at himself and blushing. "I just-- I really love you."

"I really love you, too," he says, threading their fingers together so that he can look at the rings that they're wearing side by side. "That really is the most perfect thing," he says, admiring the enamelled heart. "When I come from we could say we were married, now. *per verba de praesenti. *By the words of those present. Exchange promises, exchange rings. it would have been legally binding, then, too."

Lee stares down at the rings and the snaps his gaze up to George's face at the mention of marriage. He blinks rapidly and swallows hard, glancing down at the rings again. Getting married was something he was sure that he'd never have to think about. It just never seemed like a possibility and the whole thing is kind of silly, really. It's just a piece of paper.

But the way that George talks about it is nice. No ceremony, no courthouse. Just a promise between two people in love. Lee's chest feels tight and he breathes out slowly, opening his mouth and then shutting it again.

"Would you want that?" Lee asks in a thick voice, swallowing again and feeling stunned, like he's in a dream. "With me?"

"I can't imagine it with anyone else," he says, still looking at the rings -- the notes of blue that units them. He brushes the fingers of his free hand along Lee's jaw. "You're going to cry again." He's teasing, gently.

"Shut up," Lee says with a soft laugh, pushing George back against the couch so he can climb into his lap, straddling him and settling down atop his thighs. He swallows and takes George's hand again, cheeks read as he looks down at their rings.

"How would you do it?" He asks almost shyly. "I mean, what would you say?"

"Nothing special, as far as I understand it," says george, his hands sliding down to cup Lee's arse, squeezing gently. "Although, you'll understand, I'm not a lawyer and I never have been. We agree to see ourselves as...well, it would be have been husband and wife in my day. To be commited. To love no others." He shrugs. "And that would be our contract. Under law."

“You’re not? Well, the wedding’s off,” Lee quips, then cups George’s face in his hands, looking down at him very seriously.

“I’m committed to you. I love only you,” Lee tells him, thumbing at the corners of his eyes. “And I’ll be yours for as long as you’ll have me. You have my word.”

"Oh, well, alas," he says, smiling, but he sobers quickly when he sees the look on Lee's face. He kisses the heel of Lee's hand. "I love you always. Only you. You have my word on that."

Lee beams at him, eyes crinkling at the corners as George kisses his hand. His hands have done such terrible things, but George loves them anyway. He loves all of Lee, even the ugly parts.

“So, we’re married now?” He asks with an incredulous laugh, head spinning as he looks down at their rings again. It’s not legal, but that doesn’t matter. It’s real if they want it to be. “I never—“

He clears his throat and swallows hard before letting out another astonished huff of laughter.

"If you want to be," he says, because he honestly can't imagine anything better. He brushes dark curls back from Lee's face. "Will you Mrs Villiers, then? Am I to make an honest creature out of you?"

Neither of them will ever be honest creatures, and they both know it.

Lee laughs at that but there’s a sad sort of neediness in his gaze. The question was a joke, but a part of him wishes it wasn’t. Not all of it, at least.

“I wouldn’t make a very good wife,” he admits with a rueful smile, nuzzling into George’s palm and resting the scar on his cheek there. “But it would be nice to not share a last name with the man who tried to kill me.”

Who Lee then killed. It was justified at that point, practically a mercy killing, but Lee will have to live with that for the rest of his life, reminded of it whenever he sees his own name.