Bandom One-shots book 3

Christmas Mess (Mick Mars x Nikki Sixx)

It's Christmas Eve, 1990. The house is warm, and the twinkling lights from the tree cast a soft glow on everything. But if I'm being honest, the warmth of the season isn't what's making me feel all fuzzy inside—it's Nikki. He's in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, flour all over his face, and a grin on his lips that makes my heart skip a beat.

We've been together for five years now, and there's still this spark, this buzz when we're together, like we're constantly discovering new parts of each other. But tonight, it's not about the music or the craziness of our lives. It's about us—being in the moment, having fun, and making a mess.

"Okay, this isn't going as planned," Nikki laughs, holding up a cookie that's more burnt than baked. He waves it around like it's some sort of culinary masterpiece.

I snicker, leaning against the doorway, my arms crossed. "You were supposed to watch the oven, not let it turn into a crime scene."

He sticks out his tongue, wiping flour off his cheek with the back of his hand. "You didn't exactly give me a lot of instructions, Mars. Just 'put the cookies in' and 'don't burn them.'"

"See," I point at him, "That's where you went wrong. You didn't listen to the 'don't burn them' part."

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. "Yeah, yeah, we're doomed."

We've been baking cookies for hours now, and somehow, we're still nowhere near finished. The kitchen's a disaster—flour everywhere, chocolate chips spilled across the counter, and dough stuck to the rolling pin like it's playing hard to get. But I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Nikki's laughter fills the room as he wipes his hands on his pants, making an even bigger mess. The kind of laughter that makes my heart flutter, the kind that's pure and easy. We've always had this natural rhythm, even in the chaos, even when things don't go as planned. He's got a way of turning everything into a joke, and I love him for it.

I look over at the half-decorated tree. There's tinsel hanging in strange places, and a couple ornaments that seem to have been placed by someone with no sense of symmetry. I chuckle, knowing full well that it's my fault, too. We've always been more about the fun than getting things perfect.

Nikki grabs another cookie sheet from the counter, and I watch him stretch up to put it in the oven. His shirt pulls up a little, revealing a sliver of his lower back, and I'm instantly reminded of how lucky I am to have him. He's everything to me, and moments like this make me realize how lucky I am that we found each other in this crazy world.

Suddenly, I spot it—a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway, partially hidden by a few stray cookie cutters. A grin tugs at my lips as I walk over, picking it up and holding it above Nikki's head, who's still facing the oven.

He turns around, catching sight of the mistletoe just as I hold it above him. His eyes narrow in playful suspicion. "What do you think you're doing, Mars?"

I raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming on my face. "Oh, I don't know. Just thought we could get into the Christmas spirit, you know?"

Nikki tilts his head, glancing at the mistletoe and then back at me. His lips curl into that trademark grin that always melts me. "Well, if you insist..."

Without waiting for any further invitation, I step closer, leaning in just a bit. He meets me halfway, and for a moment, the world seems to disappear around us. It's just the two of us, standing under the mistletoe in the middle of our messy kitchen, with cookie crumbs scattered on the floor and flour in our hair.

The kiss is sweet, soft, and full of warmth—just the way it always is with Nikki. It's not rushed, not filled with any urgency, just two people who love each other, sharing a quiet moment in the midst of the holiday madness. It's perfect.

When we pull back, I can't help but laugh softly. "Now, see? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Nikki chuckles, wiping his lips. "I guess not. But you're lucky you've got a pass, Mars. I'm not gonna let you get away with this every year."

"Maybe I'll make it a tradition," I tease, my voice playful.

Nikki raises an eyebrow. "A tradition? Are you sure you want to start that?"

I grin. "You'll see. You'll be begging me for mistletoe next Christmas."

He snorts, rolling his eyes, but there's that little gleam of affection in them that makes my heart beat a little faster. "We'll see about that. Now, let's just finish these cookies before we burn the whole batch."

"Agreed," I reply, heading back toward the counter.

And as we continue making our holiday mess—decorating the tree, baking cookies, laughing at our own ridiculousness—I can't help but feel like this is what it's all about. Just Nikki and me, finding joy in the little things, in each other. There's nothing else I need.

It's Christmas, and this moment, this love, is all I'll ever need.

~Christmas Mess~