Sam had to admit: when Steve suggested they rent a cabin up North for an old-fashioned Christmas, he was a little worried. He had visions of hunting their own turkey dinner and nothing but a wood stove for heat. And, while Sam had no problem with Steve rocking the lumberjack look, he wasn’t too keen on long johns and no running water. But he didn’t voice these concerns; Steve said he was taking care of it, and Sam tried to leave it at that, trusting that the Man with A Plan wasn’t going to leave them hanging.
Still, when they walked into a beautiful cottage with picture windows that looked out on a frozen lake, a large fireplace against one wall, and a Jacuzzi in the corner, Sam’s jaw just about hit the floor.
“So, what do you think?” Steve asked.
“Well,” Sam managed. “Unless my knowledge of history is really, really, bad,” he said, “you didn’t have any Christmases like this in the 30s.”
Steve gave him a funny look. “What do you mean?”
Sam felt his cheeks heat. “No, I just meant — you said old-fashioned, and I thought—”
“Oh.”’ Steve laughed and stepped into Sam’s space. “No. Not old-fashioned as in the ghosts of Christmas past. Old-fashioned like we turn off our phones, drink hot chocolate with brandy, and make out in the hot tub.”
“Oh,” Sam echoed. Steve leaned closer and started running his hands up his sides. Sam let himself be drawn in. “Now that, I can get behind,” he said.
“I certainly hope so,” Steve murmured against his lips.
Just as Sam closed his eyes to kiss him, he saw the first flakes of snow start to fall outside.