Containing quite gross amount of fluff and a fail attempt of rated M at the last part of this chapter. Unbetaed.

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• Who wakes the other one up with kisses?

Catch in between a dreamy state and a situation that demands him to be conscious of his surrounding, Yixing makes up for the faint sound of footsteps entering the bedroom, clumsy little steps sounding so fast and hurry to reach its destination.

He can feel the part of mattress beside him dipping low, signalling the presence of a figure, of what he can assume with his eyes closed; a person waddling on his knees; probably trying to scurry to be on Yixing’s side of the bed. He quietly smiles in his head despite still being half conscious and all, when he feels the air beside him getting warmer, much more convenience than the thick blanket could ever provide.

He ignores the need to protest when his blanket being snatched off of his buried head; both ears are now exposed to the chilly air inside the room, where the heater seems to be purposely turned off by a certain somebody.

“Wake up!”

A pair of lips collided with his; cold and dry, just a short, fleeting touch.

“Wake up, come on!”

The lips touch his nose; a light scent of mint invading his sense of smell.

“Yixing, wake up!”

His eyes flutter when the cold lips connect with his closed eyelids; relishing the heat radiating from where their skin meets.

“Yixing, Yixing, Yixing, Yixing, Yixing!”

Surge of chilliness gush through over various systems functioning in his body with every touch of those lips on every inch of his face, kissing every surface possible, leaving behind them those tingling sensations that can be felt right through the core layer of his facial bones.

“Wake up Yixing. You need to wake up!”

He can feel the person beside him shifting his position, bouncing eagerly before Yixing feels his hot breath fanning over his ear.

“ZHANG YIXING!!”

The voice rings loudly—so much louder than those usually high pitched whines, only a few millimetres away from the state of his eardrum that he starts to calculate whether staying dead is worthy enough to be granted with an adequate compensation in case he turns deaf after this.

Whatever it is, he thinks it’s lucky enough for the person doesn’t think that it is necessary to shout again in Yixing’s ear, resorting to start moving his face down to graze his lips on Yixing’s neck—and that’s enough to put his sense to the highest alert mode.

He just needs to stay still for a good few minutes more, and this devilish disturbance will be gone. He really doesn’t mind the cold finger that is poking into his earlobe, squiggling its way in and out of his ear; but he’s not sure if he can take the kittenish on his neck any longer. He presses his eyelids tighter, fingers gripping the side of his pyjama hard—anything to make it less ticklish.

But then it’s gone—no tongue, no finger, no annoyed whisper, no warmth—none.

Yixing wants to thank every deity exists when he hears footsteps stomping out of the room, muffling voice getting more distant. He’s very proud of his success, which is nothing can be proud of on daily occurrence, and now he could enjoy extra hours of more sleep on this freezing day. He smiles as he shifts his head comfortably on the pillow, brain waves getting slower and everything feels heavier.

He is so ready to be engulfed in the arms of dreaming fairy once again—

When a dreadful something being forcefully smudged on his face.

Immediately he sits up, registering that there is something on his face, amid the fact that he could barely breathing properly; out of shock and still half asleep; something wet, slippery, cold, crisp, and benumbed his stunned face muscle.

Something soft yet very, very icy.

Frosted himself, it takes him several minutes to scrape away the snow that is starting to turn into slush from his face; vision becomes clear, as he’s greeted by a particular annoying person, waving up his covered hands in mittens, with small traces of snow; quite adorable Yixing would say if not for the fact he's feeling outrages at this moment.

“Now do you want to get up or I give you another facial treatment with a bucket of snow?!”

Still, Yixing always forget that Jongdae will usually come up with various creative ways to force him awake whenever the ten wake up kisses seem fail to be working.

• What is their favourite non-ual activity?

“It’s Christmas and no one is allowed to stay in bed forever, okay?”

Jongdae ignores the snorts he knows purposely made for him, glancing to the back a few times to make sure Yixing is following him and does not make a U-turn to jump back on to his bed.  He pats the carpeted floor beside him after he settled down, legs neatly crossed as his smile radiates brighter than the shy sunshine peeking in through the sheer curtains in the living hall.

“Are you sure you are not a five years old baby eager to open his Christmas presents?”

“Five years old is hardly a baby Yixing. Get the fact right.”

Yixing’s small pout earns a chuckle from Jongdae, who thinks it is funny enough to pinch the former’s cheeks with his mitten-cladded hands—still partially cold with some sprinkles of snow. Yixing grips the offensive hands hard before he removes the mittens away determinedly; throwing them far across form the couch in the hall.

He shakes off the guilt building in his chest when he sees the curling mouth before, turning into a circular shocking expression—after all, he still kind of sleepy and a bit moody being woken up with such unromantic way earlier before.

“Owww is my baby still mad at me?”

Jongdae leans his face on his raised knee, titling his head at the best angle so Yixing would see his eyes are blinking cutely at his direction.

“I’m a perfectly grown up adult now and older than you are, mind you!”

Yixing scoffs. Because Jongdae forever looks cute without even trying. And whenever he does something like this, he always looks even cuter. For that, Yixing always has the urge to squish him tight in his arm snugly.

“But you’re always be my baby.”

Yixing takes time to smile sheepishly at himself when Jongdae gets up and disappear into the kitchen after he ruffles Yixing’s bed hair along with his remark; scooting over to pick a blanket from the couch and wraps it around his body. It’s still early in the morning, but a window to their apartment is opened, inviting the chilly air to infiltrate their cosy shelter.

With two mugs in his hand, Jongdae beams while he steps in the threshold, looking proud than ever before flopping down opposite Yixing’s bundle; careful not to spill the drinks inside the mugs.

“One hot chocolate for you and one for me, made with extra love and apology so it would taste better!”

Jongdae winks as he hands one of the mugs towards the other, smile appears to be wider when he notices Yixing’s small grin that he tries to hide.

“And these marshmallows can only be served with, after you, kiss me.”

To emphasize his words, Jongdae wags a pack of marshmallows in his hand, knowing really well that his lover’s heart is just as soft as a marshmallow—and Jongdae is perfectly too well-versed to know the correct amount of ingredients can be used to melt down that piece of marshmallow for his own good.

Can no longer holding his laughter in, Yixing let out a string of giggles as he moves closer towards the younger; not caring about the smirk forming on the latter’s lips; placing his mug on the floor afterwards.

“Will I ever get mad at you?”

A chuckle escapes from Jongdae’s mouth just as Yixing nuzzles their noses together, titling his head and gives a simple peck on the other’s lips. Yixing keeps hold of the smaller face in front of him, forehead leaving no distance for separation.

“Never, I suppose. But you know I love making you angry…”

“Only because you love our make up moment like this. Right, Jongdae-yah?”

• Who is the romantic one?

They inch closer to the small Christmas tree beside the windowsill—courtesy of Jongdae’s mother, insisting them to have at least one small tree inside their apartment; eyeing various sizes of boxes underneath it.

“Shall we start with Sehun and Jongin’s presents first?”

Yixing is about to rip the said wrapping paper off when Jongdae stops him abruptly.

“No. What if they give us something that’s going to explode like last Christmas’s?”

Gasping, Yixing set the box aside carefully, not wanting last year’s event once again ruining their Christmas day when the younger pairs gifted them with some exploding cokes right after that moment Jongdae opened up the box.

“So…”

“Let’s just start with ours first.”

A small box is placed on Yixing’s lap before Jongdae raising his eyebrows almost up to touch his hairline, clicking his tongue as he pat the other's present on his lap. Gesturing him to open his present first, Jongdae bites his lips when the other starts to fiddle with the wrapping paper, somewhat bouncing vaguely out of habit as he’s feeling rather jumpy.

Jongdae grabs Yixing arm, stopping him from going on much further.

“Wait. I don’t know if you’ll like it!”

Dimples showing off when Yixing flashes the other a smile, shifting up much closer for body warmth instead before he reaches out and flatten his palms on Jongdae’s cheeks, squishing in them both and laughs merrily when Jongdae’s face looks swollen, mouth out curved bulgingly—in a very funny way; like a fish.

“Look Mr, we’ve agreed not to get each other something fancy this Christmas, didn’t we?”

He laughs again; loving each way Jongdae’s face protruded in his hands, before he continues,  

“… It doesn't matter what your present is, it's the thought that counts.”

With that, Yixing leans in and nips at the jutting lips on front of him, feeling content when the crimsons starting to creep up on the younger’s cheeks.

“Can I open it now?”

Yixing doesn’t wait for Jongdae’s response, hearing the latter emitting a silent hiss after he releases the captured cheeks.

“My cheeks hurt.”

Jongdae is watching intently when Yixing latches open the small flaps of the box, a treasuring smile shapes out in instant when he pick out a small black designed leather holder keychain, rather able to guess what’s waiting inside of it for him.  

Yixing lifted up his gaze on the smaller man who is now fixating his stare on anything but Yixing’s eyes—lower lip stuck between his teeth, and Yixing chooses to stay silent, feeling very comfortable with the quiet atmosphere in the hall.

Very slowly, Yixing pops open the little button on the middle of it, extending an index finger inside to pull out something from inside the holder. He places the shiny thing on his palm—a hand stamped metal guitar pick, acute isosceles triangle with two equal corners rounded and one less rounded on the bottom. A solid copper guitar pick customised with a small heart-shaped hole on it.

And Yixing can’t help the lively cackles spilling out of his stomach when he read the words engraved on the surface, of a cheesy ‘Glad I picked you, and a little well-known ‘KJD’ as a signature beneath it. He presses the item in his hold, in a tight—tight, tight grip.

“I love it very much, Dae. I truly am grateful. I love you.”

The said guy huffs when Yixing bends his upper torso forward, firmly touching his lips on Jongdae’s forehead, pushing the former back gently when he moves his lips to start nipping at his temple.

“Don’t make it anymore corny it’s truly sickening.”

The younger carelessly tears open the box in his grip, not wanting his partner to spot the difference in the colour of his face. He can already feel the heat spreading through his veins though. Ignoring the snickering sound from Yixing—where perhaps he finds it a tad too amusing for Jongdae too blush astonishingly like that; he gasps when he opens the box, withdrawing a gleaming rosary bracelet as the light from the small table lamp casted upon the glassy beads.

“Yixing…”

For a period of time, Jongdae’s finally adjusting his eyes to be at the same level as Yixing’s. No words are exchange between them apart for the distant sound from the road below, indicating the start of the day on this winter break.

Jongdae fingers the delicate line of lavender and grey coloured Czech glass beads, the rosary bracelet is featured with a silver tone medal pendant, hanged beside it is a silver table cleft symbol instead of the traditional classic cross—a complete different beaded bracelet from the usual's.

“Look at the pendant…”

Jongdae follows at Yixing’s direction, inspecting the tiny medal closely.

“Z…Y…X’s?”

“Zhang Yixing’s. Along with the music note, the bracelet literally reads ‘You are mine. You are my music’.”

“You are gross.”

Yixing giggles when he reaches for Jongdae’s hand, taking the bracelet away from him and clasping it around the latter’s wrist.

“But I really love you. Thank you,Yixing.”

“No need to be such a cornball. I’m going to puke.”

They both surpass a thread of laughter at that, inhaling the happiness that warms their heartstrings in this freezing temperature. Sprawled on the floor on his back, Yixing looks up when Jongdae taps his stomach to get his attention.

Focusing his eyes on Jongdae’s hovering face over his, he fails to notice when Jongdae slips something on his neck, almost way too basked in Jongdae’s scent. It only hits him when he feels a cold sensation against his skin; going back to a sitting position to observe an oddly similar silver heart-shaped pendant with the hole stamped on the guitar pick earlier.

“Jongdae… what’s this?”

“Like the pendant says, ‘You are my world’.”

Jongdae pressed his palm on the silver chain,

“My heart, my everything.”

• Who tends to get jealous more easily?

He’s not the type to get jealous over tiny, trivial, petty little things.

Not at Jongdae and their friends’ obvious cuddly-snugly moments. Never did he get all riled up whenever people—both men and women alike, making googly eyes at their direction every time Jongdae went out wearing his skin-tight jeans. Not even when Jongin decided to open up a long one night-chronicle about Jongdae past relationships; did he ever succumb in jealousy.

But right now it’s totally a different situation.

He was talking with his grandmother over skype, when his Ma appeared on the screen and she was suddenly asking for a particular Kim Jongdae. Yixing pouts unconsciously; because it’s Christmas, and Christmas never fails to make him feels so nostalgic and homesick. He just wanted to pour away his longing feels of celebrating Christmas at China when his Ma quite literally shuts him off by requesting to talk to the younger—for Jongdae, to sing for them Christmas carols—that’s her excuse, but really, he could sing them just as good.

He fiddles with the heart-shaped pendant hanging near off his chest. Everybody loves Jongdae.

He swears he would feel the other way around if it isn’t for the fact that it’s one Christmas afternoon, and things always gotten dimmer if it comes to matters pertaining family, were to be discussed in this meaningful day.  

Shaking his head, Yixing gets up from the chair in the kitchen, and walks into their bedroom, finding Jongdae who’s still drying his hair, obviously just done dressing up after taking a shower.

“Ma wants to talk to you…”

Yixing doesn’t even get to finish his sentences when Jongdae throws him the towel and quickly speeding his way in to the kitchen. Yixing follows him suit, stopping midway in the living hall just to give Jongdae privacy—though it’s very unlikely since he can hear Jongdae’s voice clearly even from the bedroom just now. He listens at the younger’s voice squealing in an almost perfect Chinese greeting phrases—among things Jongdae already mastered himself at, greeting his Ma and grandmother along.

Despite their language differences, such things never seem to restrain them from talking with each other. Jongdae is a talkative person; always chatting happily with raw excitement and genuine enthusiasm yet never forget to draw along his polite and respectful attitude; and those mere factors seem to make his family feel entertained enough to talk to him always, over the pixelated screen. They usually talk more about the casual things, but the sight alone makes him feel really warm. Most of the time, Yixing refuses to tag along, because no matter how blotchy Jongdae’s Chinese conversation is, it is something that can’t be refilled with body languages and Jongdae’s laughter.

Right on cue, Yixing hears the other letting out a chuckle—it’s probably Jongdae not understanding his grandmother’s accent and resorts to cover it with his laughing instead; but his Ma is there, and she would probably make it up to him, and Yixing is—somehow, still feeling a bit of jealousy over Jongdae who’s taking up his space as his Ma and grandmother’s favourite boy; so he still doesn’t want to join in the conversation.

Yixing is about to leave the wall separating their kitchen and living hall when his phone buzzes in his back pocket, vibrating vigorously, urging him to pick up. He smiles widely as he read the caller ID, bringing the phone close to his ear.

“Merry Christmas, Kim Eomeonim.”

The person at the other end of the line falls into a fit of laughter, the way of expression sounds just as near as Jongdae expressing his—again, Yixing thinks maybe it’s something than run in their bloodline, producing bubbly laughter that is capable of gusting soothing air into ears of whoever gets the chance to hear it.

“You are so cute Yixing-ah. Merry Christmas to you too. I’m sorry for bothering you this moment. I’ve been trying to call Jongdae for a few times now but he didn’t pick up.”

Yixing peeks in at the door separating the area, watching Jongdae, face disappeared behind his laptop but voice still ringing cheerfully.

“I’m sorry eomeonim, but I think he left his phone in the room. Do you want me to get him now, for you?”

“No it’s fine, dear. I just want to make sure if you guys are really going to come over for dinner tomorrow night…”

She was talking unhurriedly, her voice is clear; making sure every word escaping is simple and coherent enough for Yixing’s Korean standard.

“…I want to prepare for that Chinese dishes you love so much and get Jongdae’s appa to buy me the ingredients!”

Yixing once again fixes his stare on Jongdae, although this time around, their eyes lock for some brief moments before Jongdae mouthing him a quiet ‘what?’. Yixing replies him with a smirk and proceeds to pucker his lips up; blowing a kiss at the younger’s direction after he gently kissed his palm as a signal.

Paying no attention to Jongdae’s confused look, Yixing clutches the phone by his ear tighter. If Jongdae can steal both Yixing’s important ladies’ hearts away, he’s definitely going to do the same to Jongdae’s.

“Eomeonim…”

• Who cooks for whom?

“Try it!”

“At what time the boys are coming again?”

If he can’t endure it, Yixing perhaps might be able to delay down the torture.

“Around six, seven? I’ll call them again to make sure. Come on try it!”

Yixing clasps a pair of chopsticks in his hand, vigilant motion as slow as a snail, picking up a small piece of what looks like a burnt chicken teriyaki with sprinkles of what he assumes sesame seed on top of the dish.

He tries to control it, but the sound of his tongue clicking; at the sight of Jongdae’s misty eyes; somehow voluntarily throwing itself out from the back of his throat on its own accord.

“Don’t do that sparkling goeey thingy things with your eyes, they’re cutely annoying.”

He eyes Jongdae carefully as the latter perches his elbows mere inches away from his person, hands tuck underneath that cutesy face he’s making and eyebrows dancing in a very funny way, coaxing the Chinese man to plop that piece of chicken into his mouth. Yixing complied anyway and halfway of trying to chew down the bite, he gives up and run to the sink to spit out the bit down. His face cringed at the bitter taste left in the cavern of his mouth.

“You are no fun. Is it really that bad?”

“No, it’s more horrible that what a reasonable person would probably assume. Try it yourself.”

Jongdae pouts but if Yixing doesn’t know it any better, he would miss out the hint of mischievous inserted there instead of disappointment.

“You are going overboard young man.”

“Besides, who cooks Chicken Teriyaki for Christmas?”

“You used to eat instant noodles for Christmas that’s such a low blow Yixing.”

Teetering the chopsticks over the plate, Yixing sighs knowingly.

“Why don’t you let me cook like usual? We wouldn’t be putting things out to be wasted like this.”

The younger pulls a chair closely to Yixing, settling down as he looks at the plate on the table.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

His tone is completely different now, Yixing notices, more daring than the previous one, this time it sounds tantalizing, with his eyebrow cocked upwards as if teasing Yixing’s sentiment before.

“It is—that bad! Honestly, I could still feel the bitterness in my mouth its horrifying!”

Yixing is ready to blurt more, but then, Jongdae picks a piece of chicken and brings it in into Yixing’s gaping mouth; and he is surprised once again when Jongdae’s face is there, so close right in front of his, lips touching and Jongdae uses the chance to push the chicken bit further with a push of his tongue in Yixing’s mouth.

his lips after Jongdae’s mouth left Yixing’s, the elder can only thank his good luck for not letting him choke when he realises that he already swallowed down the food—unintentionally.

“Does it still taste bad?”

Yixing snorts as he wraps his arm around Jongdae’s waist, squinting his eyes together.

“Apparently not. It tastes delicious even!”

He is about to bring their faces together for another kiss when Jongdae cackles loudly and flicks his forehead, making him yell while rubbing up his forehead.

“It doesn’t taste good I know. I burnt it on purpose so our guests can’t enjoy their dinner.”

• Who pays for dinner?

“Jongdae-yah!!”

Jongdae rushes through the hall to the entrance, only to find Luhan already there, holding up the door knob, gesturing him at a pizza delivery man outside the apartment.

“Good evening sir, here’s your order, two large cheese crust chicken pepperoni, two regular sizes of rich-gold bulgogi, one regular super supreme pan pizza, and three regular bacon potato.”

Jongdae shuffles forward, smiling when the pizza delivery man handing a few boxes to him. He skids inside; nodding at Luhan’s direction when he walked passes him.

“What?”

“That is so many.”

Jongdae shrugs and turned back, nearly taking another step to the kitchen before he stops.

“Luhan hyung.”

Luhan looks at his direction, anticipating Jongdae to finish his words.

“You are the best hyung. Thank you!”

Like a lightning, Jongdae bolts down in a second but not after he makes a kissy face at Luhan. The latter staggers on his spot after that, still can’t fully comprehend what’s that all about. He turns at the delivery man to get the other boxes left.

“Here’s the bill sir.”

Luhan takes it politely, glancing slightly at the amount and motioning to the delivery man to wait for a moment.

“Yixing!!”

The said guy comes right after that. Running straight to get the pizza boxes from Luhan’s hold and leaving behind the piece of bill paper. Luhan wishes that he’s not slow enough to finally understand what’s going to take turn in his fate, but when he realises it, everything was too late as Yixing is  already far enough to be reached out with Luhan’s leg—because if not, he’s going to surely kick Yixing off when the other blow him a kiss while shouting,

“Thanks for dinner Lu, also just to let you know, Sehun and Baekhyun managed to call in for Chinese take-out!”

He can hear the other boys’ blissful laughter united together as the pizza delivery man firmly get a hold on his wrist—not leaving him other choices but to reach for his wallet. This is one of the reasons why he doesn’t like Christmas gathering with his friends.

• Who’s more dominate?

Yixing lets out a deep moan at the back of his throat, low sounds come off as desperate, desirous, aching grunts resonating like a melodious echoes filling up the room. His stomach is tight, moving in and out rapidly as his pants become shallower and more intense, visibly more urgent.

He tosses his head on the bed in assertive moves, not caring at the fact he has accidentally casts down the pillow he has previously used before to the ground, corner of the soft bed sheet already slipping off of its place, ragged by his unruly actions.

“Jong—dae.”

Jongdae stops moving, raising both legs on his side, hands sliding off from Yixing’s forearms, revealing the evident red marks painting over the fair, white skin as a result of his tight, tight grip on the latter’s arm earlier.

Forcefully, Yixing opens one of his eyes, hungrily indulging with bleary vision the sight before him as his short breath still hitching wild; he thinks he would somehow pass out any second from then.

Jongdae looks purely sinful on top of him; red hat still keeps intact on his head, red Santa top costume halfway undone, barely hanging off his slender torso, revealing his pert—tight, perky s, a drop of sweat rolling down from his clavicle on to his chest, resting on his already glistening torso that is waving heavily, emitting the most whisper at this moment.

Jongdae leans down, teasingly down Yixing’s lips as he brings his lips closer to the latter’s ear.

“Be a good boy Yixing…”

Yixing curses loudly, he truly can’t take this any longer. He can feel the heavy weight of Jongdae’s against his skin, the provocative way Jongdae moves his body while he accompany each moves with low, sensual groans—all the right way to make Yixing loses all his sensibility; though it's long gone the moment their bodies fell on the bed earlier.

Jongdae returns to his position before, attached right above Yixing’s crotch, legs angled more accurately so they would spread better, leaving nothing to be hidden for Yixing’s eyes to see; Jongdae’s erect standing proud and thick with arousal—the head is a bright red, moist and wet with precum dribbling down to Yixing’s own torso. Jongdae’s body is taut, that once pale skin is now sprinkled with a blushing pink. The Santa costume is still there, clammy with blotches of sweats on it.

Patience growing thinner as seconds pass, Yixing gyrates his hips slowly, clasping the sheet in his grip when Jongdae response by clenching up his walls. The velvety passage clamping his buried tightly and Yixing doesn’t care how embarrassing the sound that comes out from his strained throat would be.

“Jongdae plea—se…”

“Shhhh. I love this feeling baby. Just you buried inside of me like this…”

“Jongdae…”

“Listen to this Santa well Yixing. Maybe if you’re being a good boy, you’ll get something better.”

Jongdae tweaks Yixing at the same time as he rolls his hips affectionately, scrapping his nails on the latter’s torso right when his hits Jongdae’s prostrate, playing with consistent pressure on the bundle of nerves that got his toes curl and his head angled backward, his breath going frantic, chest heaving in feral movement.

“Now Yixing, give me hard enough…”

Yixing loves the way Jongdae screams when he hard and deep, generating his energy towards his thighs for appropriate quantum of forces that can make the smaller man above him bounces submissively against his body till that dulcet voice turns into a hot blabbering mess. Yixing Jongdae’s firmly—making his hand as flexible as possible by switching to different speeds; gliding his hand up and down while rubbing the underside of the head with his thumb.

“More Yixing, more!”

Jongdae is panting hard, lips bitten and his eyes almost fully closed, his fingers are playing with his s, pinching and circling them ever so ily while he bounces; meeting Yixing’s when his petite form starts to shake, body arching deliciously when he is granted with his much desired friction.

And Jongdae yelps when Yixing pushes him on his back, kissing him anywhere on his face before he holds his face mere a part away from Jongdae's so the latter can hear him anyway; voice poisoned with ferocity, he nips at Jongdae’s lips,

“I’ve had enough Santa. I don’t want to be a good boy anymore.”

•  Who likes cuddling more?

“I shall be the big spoon as I’m manlier than you are…”

Yixing keeps quite in this baseless argument. He always wonders how Jongdae would still have the strength to talk after all their heated session before that. He yawns sleepily, and pulls the blanket up tighter. It was really a tiresome night—even if he were not to include their amazing before this—dealing with all the boys altogether. He even needs to help them lift Chanyeol up into the car, passed out after the third bottles of beer.

“Heyyy…”

He looks up lazily when Jongdae nudges his side, patting his arm as a gesture for Yixing to come closer. Yixing is way too tired to fight over, and he just rolls over, nose latching on Jongdae’s neck as the younger engulfs him in his arm.

The shorter arm reaches out to wrap him around the shoulder. His leg wraps around his waist securely, when Jongdae moves his hand, rubbing at Yixing’s back soothingly, him into the dreamland.

“I’m the big spoon, okay?”

It’s because Yixing feels the cold biting down the back of his neck that he gets jolted up from his sleep. The room is dark, so Yixing can assume that it’s only pass midnight or it’s already very early in the morning.

Yixing scrunches his nose when he feels breath slapping over his neck, a body snuggling closer when he leans back to look down. Yixing chuckles slowly when a cold lips is pressed against his collarbone, spreading his arm out so he can place Jongdae’s head upon it.

“Why bother to be a big spoon when we wake up in the morning it's always the other way around?"

He doesn’t expect any response anyway but he still catches what Jongdae is drowsily muttering.

“I’m cold, and feeling cold has nothing to do with spoon or spatula.”

Yixing smirks, bringing their bodies closer and circling his other arms around Jongdae’s waist. He tangles their legs together before placing a kiss on the crown of Jongdae’s head.

“Merry Christmas, Yixing.”

Jongdae pecks Yixing's jaw lightly.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

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Was originally going to post my 3 unfinished stories, written for Chenlay's birthday and one other story, but all the Luhan incident made me loss my desire for writing. However, these kind of writing, the otp meme people called it, is really a good way to exercise my writing. The bad graphical description of the love scene can't be helped, it was my first experience of writing them.

And have a lovely Christmas!!