The 12 Dates of Christmas

The One With the Presents (feat. Sebastian Stan)

“I just want to come home, pour myself some wine, and curl up on the couch with you. I can't believe I put off wrapping for this long,” I whined into the phone.

“I know, sweetheart. I'll do as much as I can before you get home, how's that?” Sebastian was trying to be helpful. It was sweet, but there was no way I was letting him near those gifts. Visions of wadded up tape and wrinkled paper danced through my head.

“Thanks, but you know how particular I am.”

“Is 'particular’ what we're calling it now? 'Anal’ is the word I would have used.” I could hear his grin over the phone.

“Be nice or you can erase the word 'anal’ entirely from your vocabulary,” I teased back.

He laughed. “Just get home. How much longer do you think you'll be?”

I looked at my mother, flipping through the racks at the seventh store we’d visited that afternoon. “If I make it another two hours with this crowd and the same four carols on the loudspeaker, it'll be a miracle.”

Ninety minutes and two stores later, I was released from my duties acting as my mother's pack animal. I dumped her bags in her car and made my way gratefully home. There was a sore spot in my neck that I rubbed at as I drove. It was only going to get worse after an hour or two of wrapping gifts.

And there wasn't even any wine waiting for me.

I crunched my way through the snow that had fallen on the sidewalk and opened our front door, grateful for the welcoming heat that wrapped me from head to toe when I stepped inside. All the lights were off in the front of the house, which was unusual. But there was a yellow glow and the sound of Christmas music-good music, thank god- coming from the living room at the back of the house.

I pulled my coat and hat off. “Seb?” I called. I didn't get an answer so I pulled my boots off and walked towards the light. What I saw when I entered the room brought me up short. Two stacks of immaculately wrapped gifts stood near the tree. There was a third, smaller pile of presents, still bare of paper, waiting to be wrapped.

They actually looked good. No, that's not fair. They looked spectacular. My gaze continued past the gifts to the man on the floor with his back to me. Sebastian was measuring out a rectangle of blue and silver paper, apparently oblivious to my presence. He leaned forward and his shirt lifted, revealing the slightest sliver of his beautiful back.

I cleared my throat.

“Jesus,” he spat, jumping a little. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“I'm sneaky,” I purred, stretching out full length on the floor beside him. “And speaking of sneaky- wow, babe. I didn't know you had the skills to match mine.”

He smirked. “You've never given me the chance to show off. Thought I might take some of the stress out of all this for you.”

I rolled to my back, folding my arms under my head. “It's kind of nice. Please, don't let me stop you.”

He chuckled and I closed my eyes, relaxing to the sound of scissors through paper and my favorite Christmas album. “This is nice,” I said after a few minutes.

“I bet it is,” Sebastian said. “Not many people have their own live-in gift wrapper. You're so spoiled.”

I opened one eye to find him smiling at me. “It'd be better if there was wine.”

He popped up off the floor. “Wait there,” he ordered as he disappeared into the kitchen. It was just a minute or two before he returned, the biggest wine glass we owned in his hand, filled nearly to the top.

“Oh my god,” I exclaimed. “You're my favorite.”

“Oh this? Sorry. Not for you. This is gift-wrap fuel. I need it or this whole operation will grind to a halt.” He winked and got back down on the floor.

I pouted for a second, but he handed over the glass. I propped myself up on my elbow and took it. “Smart move.”

He grinned and went back to his task. I watched him, deciding to keep my pointers to myself. He knew what he was doing, apparently. At least I thought so until I noticed he was, occasionally, fumbling with the paper.

I started watching his face and noticed his eyes flicking over to me once in awhile. The man was no longer completely focused. I stretched and moaned in relief at the relaxation of my muscles. He completely missed the flap he'd been trying to fasten down and instead taped his finger. I giggled.

“You're very distracting,” he growled.

“Sorry,” I apologized, while reaching to set my empty glass on the fireplace hearth. The action pulled my sweater up, flashing my hips and belly.

“Not yet, you're not,” he said, tossing the roll of tape over his shoulder and sweeping the roll of gift wrap aside. The present he'd been wrapping slid quickly across the floor to lodge under the tree, and Seb was suddenly on top of me, a knee to either side and one hand pinning both my wrists above my head.

His other hand played along the curve of my hip as he hovered over me, biting his lower lip.

I peered up at him. “Are you going to make me sorry?”

“Am de gând să te fac să vii nefăcut.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.