Happy Holidays

Chase could almost say he'd grown to hate this annual ritual he subjected himself to; the secrecy and the self-restraint it necessitated.

The freezing, winter air howled incessantly outside of the lavish abode, but it didn't much matter within the dark, well-heated bedroom the warlord had found himself in on the same night for the past five years, and his body easily went through the familiar motions with no input from the rest of him.

He silently approached the bedside table and placed the traditional banana nut muffin and single, potted poinsettia beside the alarm clock, resetting said object from 8:00 to noon.

He walked the few feet over to the cluttered desk and cleared a large enough space for the neatly-wrapped, long and rectangular box he had brought with him. This gift was as annual as his visits: it always seemed that the Monkey Staff fell into the hands of the Xiaolin, and it had become the dragon lord's responsibility to consistently return it to its rightful owner.

These things done, Chase divested himself of his armor (as something cold and hard against warm, sleeping flesh was a surefire way to awaken even the deepest of sleepers) and slid beneath the quilted covers of the bed, joining its current inhabitant within the nest of cozy warmth.

His arms automatically moved to pull the only living (if oblivious of it) recipient of Chase Young's kindness close, spooning the thin form against his in something like affection.

"Merry Christmas, Spicer," he said softly. "May you enjoy it tonight, while I need not 'hate' you..." The man then allowed himself to doze off, but only into a light sleep: after all, he still had to leave by dawn, lest the boy discover something like this.

Jack, for his part, was stunned. When he had stayed up late on Christmas Eve, feigning sleep in order to finally figure out who'd been providing his only reason for holiday cheer for the past half-decade, this had definitely not been in his realm of expectations.

Actually, it was far above it, and well into his realm of utmost hopes and dreams.

The goth honestly wanted nothing more than to squeal in elation and give his idol/crush a kiss he'd never forget, but he held himself in check: doing something like that would probably only make Chase leave earlier than he already would, and now that he was actually aware of it being Chase, he'd rather savor this as long as he could.

Knowing from experience that the second the man believed him conscious, he would disappear, the youth kept his movement sluggish and drowsy, as if it was being done in sleep, snuggling happily into the warlord's warm embrace.

Thanks, Chase, Jack smiled to himself in internal reply, merry Christmas to you, too...