Shifting Boundaries

Extra: Their First Christmas

Felix

"Okay, I've got the three suitcases, Griffin's activity tray, your parents' Christmas decorations, our emergency kit..." Everett tapped his pencil against his thigh while he studied his travel checklist like there was going to be a test on it later. He looked adorable when he was being all serious like this, but I was having a hard time appreciating that when I'd stayed up late last night wrapping presents after a full day of work.

I laid back onto the bed and let the warm scent of my mate relax me. It was deeply embedded into every part of our bedroom after our months together. I couldn't imagine ever sleeping again without it filling my senses, so much that I was bringing our duvet with us on our trip to Tourmaline to spend the holidays with Magnus and Mel. Sure, I'd have Everett with me, but he couldn't surround me the way a blanket could.

I was deeply relaxed and on the brink of dozing off when Everett said "Felix!" with such urgency my eyes snapped open and I automatically launched myself off the bed and positioned myself defensively between Everett and the door. I cast out my senses for some threat, but I couldn't see, smell, or hear anything out of the ordinary.

Everett grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face him. "Focus! The presents aren't on the list and there's no way we'll have time to wrap everything before we leave. How could we forget?! This is Griffin's first Christmas with us and we've already ruined it!"

He was on the verge of tears and his breathing was coming in quick gasps that would make him pass out if he kept them up for long. "Hey, calm down. It's okay. I took care of it last night and they're already loaded in the car."

His eyes widened and instead of hyperventilating, now he didn't seem to be breathing at all. "You... you did?"

"Yes. And it would take a lot more than that to ruin Christmas, okay?" I pressed a kiss to Everett's head, but he still seemed stunned. Then his eyes filled with tears and I pulled him in for a tight hug.

Everett had been putting a lot of pressure on himself to make the holidays perfect for Griffin this year. We had the traditional picture of Griffin wailing on a mall Santa's lap and the house had been decorated within an inch of its life even though we wouldn't even be here for Christmas. Everett, his mother, and Griffin had spent most of yesterday baking. Now there was an army of gingerbread men and sugar cookies along with what had to be an excessive selection of icing and decorations packed away in the car, ready to be decorated with my siblings.

And that wasn't all. We had mailed out Christmas cards to everyone we knew that featured a photo of the three of us in matching reindeer sweaters and antlers. Every window in the house was plastered with cutout snowflakes Griffin and Everett had made together while I was at work. Everett had cooked us fruitcake even though absolutely no one was going to eat it, and he was all geared up to make minced meat pies tomorrow even though he had never even had one before. Everett was doing anything he could think of to make the holiday memorable for Griffin, who was young enough that he almost definitely would remember absolutely none of this. Griffin was loving it now, though, and that was enough for me.

The trouble was the stress Everett was putting on himself. He was always so focused on the next activity that I didn't think he had enjoyed any of what they were doing in the present. No amount of telling him to slow down had made a difference, and any help I offered only seemed to make things worse. The plans would get more elaborate, more demanding. Less relaxing for my mate.

So even though I knew it would upset Everett that wrapping presents had somehow not made his checklist, I didn't point it out to him. The last thing he needed was another thing to do, another box to tick. I was actually pretty good at wrapping, and this was something I could do for him.