Spending the first Christmas together and Simon is overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the celebration and for receiving a gift after such a long time.
It's just a lot of fluff.
~~~~~
The transformation of your home began on Christmas Eve. For Simon, the kitchen, the living room and the bedroom had always been a place of pure utility, nothing more. But under your guidance, it became a sanctuary. You drafted him into the decoration of your home, using his height to drape garlands across the highest beams. Often, he would simply lift you up to reach them yourself, his hands lingering on your waist and holding you there a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if he were finally learning what it felt like to be home.
In the kitchen, you guided him through the process of all the preparations: the simmering soups, the baking of the cookies, and the heavy mixing of cake batters, his large hands looking absurdly powerful against the domestic tasks of the holidays. He became a persistent thief of sweets, his large fingers snatching bits of dough and frosting when he thought you weren't looking. Each time you caught him, you’d demand a "fine", stealing kisses and lingering hugs while the kitchen was filled with the scent of cinnamon, spices and the low, rare sound of his chuckling.
When it came time to decorate the tree, some of his joy left. Simon stood before the bare fir, looking at the tangled lights and boxes of ornaments as if they were a complex encryption he couldn't break. He knew how to dismantle a rifle in the dark, but the delicate colorful threads of tinsel and fragile glass baubles intimidated him. He stood there, frozen, looking at you with a silent hope that you would take the lead.
You did, but you made sure he was part of every step. As you guided him on where to place the ornaments, you felt his muscles tense under your gentle touch.
"I’m not good at this," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. "For the calmness. For the joy."
He looked like he was on the verge of giving up, his shoulders hunching as if he felt he didn't belong in such a soft moment. You stepped into his space, taking his hands in yours and looking up into his worried eyes. "Just because you haven't done it until now, that doesn't make you bad at it, Si. It's time to let the worries aside and enjoy the moment."
He looked at you, the harsh lines of his face slowly melting. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours in a long, silent beat of shared breath, before following it with a slow, thankful kiss that tasted of sugar and promise.
The next morning, the city was draped in a silent blanket of white. As you set the table for the Christmas lunch, waiting for the 141 boys to arrive, Simon stood by the window with his cup of coffee in hand, watching the snowfall on the colorfully lit streets below. People passed by in bright coats, some caroling others visiting loved ones with ribbon-topped gifts in hand. It was a scene of pure tranquility, the kind of calm Simon wasn't used to, not even in his childhood.
"What’s on your mind, Si?" you asked, having watched his quiet posture for a while.
"It might be the first time I’m seeing snow and I don’t have to hunt somebody,” he murmured, a sort of hurt in his voice.” After such a long time, I see the calmness of it.”
You felt the sharp sting of pain in his words. Through his eyes, you saw the fatigue of years spent being cautious, being safe, and being lethal. He felt content now, yet there was a lingering disappointment, a frustration that he didn't quite know how to properly enjoy the moment. He had no idea how to do it, how to relax, how to forget about the world and just focus on himself.
You helped him through his doubts, showing him love and assurance in exchange, yet every time, you were welcomed with more counter measures to your gestures, but you didn't give up, being there for him through it all, and this time was no different.
You went to him, giving him a soft kiss on the lips, your hand caressing his face until he finally leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. Slowly, you took his hand and led him towards the Christmas tree, sitting him on the sofa.
You realized it was best to unwrap your personal gifts before the rest of the 141 arrived. You handed him a small box wrapped in vibrant, colorful paper. The mild shock on his face was heartbreaking. He hesitantly took it, his fingers fumbled with the paper as if they were trembling.
"It’s yours, love. Santa came by, for you too," you said with an innocent smile.
With the precision he usually reserved for disarming explosives, he cut the paper slowly and neatly. When the box was revealed, he went perfectly still. Inside was a beautiful watch, a powerful, rugged design suited for his line of work, whether to count the minutes before a shot or simply to mark the time until he returned to you.
"I don't deserve a gift... I don't deserve you," he whispered. His expression softened, his eyes brimming with a decade’s worth of suppressed emotion.
"Simon... please," you pleaded, stepping closer. "You deserve to be happy, just give yourself a chance.” You started off, caressing his face.” You deserve gifts, good food, a comfy home, and love. Even though you say you cannot live a normal life, you can at least enjoy it when it’s given to you and forget about the wrongs of this world."
The sheer amount of goodness, the music, the warmth, the food, and the heavy weight of the watch in his lap, finally broke through his last defenses. Simon let out a jagged, shuddering breath and reached for you.
He didn't just hug you, he seized you, lifting you off the sofa and crushing you against his chest. His massive arms wrapped around you like a shield, his body shaking with the effort of holding back years of isolation. He held you so tight the air left your lungs, his fingers digging into your sweater as if you were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly become too bright and too loud.
"Thank you," he choked out, the words muffled against your skin. "Thank you for... for all of this." His fingers traced your cheek, finally leaning for a long sweet kiss, that made you both smile at one another.
Eventually, Simon pulled back just enough to reach for the tree. He plucked a red bauble decoration from a branch and handed it to you. You realized it was a hollow ornament, and inside lay a delicate silver necklace with a locket.
"I needed help from the boys to pick a design," he admitted, his voice regaining its strength. "We all agreed on it."
Personally you did not expect a gift from him, it was your first Christmas together and he didn't know how to celebrate it. The gesture itself brought joy to your core and it made you melt at the kindness and love he started to show back.
He moved behind you, his large hands surprisingly steady as he fastened the locket around your neck. You jumped on him, hugging him fiercely before locking together in another sweet, lingering kiss. When you pulled back to look at the locket, you saw the engraving: With love, Si!
As you stood there, your noses touching and hearts fluttering, the doorbell rang. The 141, Simon’s new family had arrived. The holidays had finally begun.
