“Are you going to make my birthday cake too?” Deeks’ teasing voice probed above her, scruff of his chin rubbing against her hair.
“Shut up,” feigning annoyance, she shifted closer, draping an arm over his waist, the closeness of their bodies another attempt to bring her down, calm the whirlpool of anxiety within, and God, nothing helped more than his presence, maybe the one who knew her best could help her find herself again, all playful teasing over Christmas cookies aside.
He’d suggested a last minute getaway on the drive home, something about the salsa, Callen, and waves, truthfully she hadn’t paid much attention, saying no internally before more than two words left his lips, and maybe that was selfish, maybe the urges she felt now, the toning down of the decorations to a tree, some tasteful wreaths, and maybe a sprig of mistletoe was wrong, but somehow it was exactly what she needed.
Two years prior, when they’d abandoned traditions of decorations, gifts, and crowds, spending that day with no one but each other, learning the curves of them as a them, nothing but hot chocolate, promises, kisses, and steady, intimate whispers, nothing but bliss, bliss that helped guide them to this, a house, a home, I love yous, and a ring tucked snugly away in his pocket.
And now, now maybe, she needed that bliss to find herself, soothe her own current path, utterly riddled with anxiety and insecurities, and the urge for a few days of being locked away in this house, of nothing but light, bubbly moments, of nothing but being cherished and loved by the man she’d do anything for; it was all consuming.
“I’m glad you gave Callen those lights,” she murmured, barely stifling a smirk over the image of G proudly carrying around that mess of decorations all throughout the night, clearly eager to string them up himself.
“Yeah, I was-”
“Now we can buy tangle free ones.”
Snorting, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, amusement clinging to his tone. “You always see through my plans, baby.”
“We could go ice skating,” the words fell from her lips before she truly considered them, perhaps not the most intelligent, sliding on skates across that slick surface never her strong suit, difficulty likely increased after her recent trouble with walking, even holding his hand, but maybe he needed to be wrapped up in the sights and sounds of holidays just as much as she needed to not be, hot chocolate, cheesy music, and little Santa hats, holding his hand over the ice and tasting the crispness of the air and him in their kisses, reminiscent of those ones they shared two years ago, a moment that surely carried the same joy, love in both their minds, one that neither would mind carrying on, making a yearly treat, maybe even one they’d continue if they ever did decide on that baby.
“New traditions,” she paused, clearing her throat, their traditions ones they both needed. “For us.”