The fireplace finally roars to life with a single spark, filling the area with a wave of warmth that settles back towards the vicinity of the stovetop before long. With a relieved sigh, Remiel turns to see his lovely guest curled up on the couch with a blanket, her mug cradled in hand. He smiles, stepping forward to take the seat beside her.

"Monsieur is so formal, mademoiselle," He says, settling in and looking for a blanket of his own, but finding it too far out of arm's reach to bother with it. Instead, he turns back to Luka to finish his sentence. "Especially when we're sharing a treehouse together." He adds with an amused raise of his brow, imbibing in his drink afterward.

---

🎶 good ol' classic christmas songs

BUT LUKA IT'S COLD OUTSIDE + luka chêne

☉

Her face is aglow with charming shyness, and it certainly doesn't go unnoticed by her company as he watches her manicured finger trace the rim of that mug. Why or how he'd managed to have such an effect on a sweetheart like her remains unanswered. But even harder, still, than questioning it, is fighting back the urge to dive into that dream headfirst.

He shouldn't. They shouldn't. It wouldn't be fair to her, especially when he was fresh from a rough 'break-up' and still, somewhat, recovering from a lost first love...

But, even despite those thoughts lingering in the back of his mind, the part of him that needs comfort, the part of him that needs a friend, the part that wishes to know what Christmas is really about... the part that genuinely likes her, wins him over in the end.

And he finds himself graciously accepting his half of the blanket instead of returning it, cozying a little closer to spare her more of it and keep her legs covered.

His right arm might remain uncovered, holding his mug of eggnog there, but the rest of him finds a pleasant warmth he hadn't known in some time. He's visibly grateful for it. As she makes her next inquiry of him, however, his smile falters slightly, his left hand idly rubbing the fabric of the blanket as he talks.

"Well... yes and no. My family celebrated it every year when I was a child, but it wasn't exactly what you'd call... conventional." Cobalt hues shift to meet her gaze softly. "I've always been fascinated with the way others celebrate it, however. The way you do. And, to be honest, this is the first year I've dared to try that."

---

🎶 good ol' classic christmas songs

BUT LUKA IT'S COLD OUTSIDE + luka chêne

☉

Her subtle shift of the blanket fails to go unnoticed, and Remiel is thankful for the gesture. Reciprocation follows next as he casually adjusts in his seat, pressing slightly closer. Not quite unlike they'd been in the sleigh ride over, if only to spare each other more blanket... right?

Ultimately, she seems too preoccupied with being flustered to notice it. He lightheartedly laughs. "It's alright, Luka, I promise. You can ask me anything. I guess you could just say Christmases in the Calcifet household were always... formal affairs. Not quite what a child dreams of."

To go into more detail, about children who got everything they wanted but were still somehow brutally neglected, didn't seem right on a pleasant evening like this. But he'd continue on if she asked.

Regardless, seeing her talk about her own experiences and sentiments over the holiday was far more interesting than the drab and soulless holidays of his childhood. Her words bring a natural, warmhearted smile to his face, and he finds himself sipping from his mug every now and again to pair it with delectable eggnog.

The warmth blooming in his chest has far more to do with luka chêne than it does the alcohol, however.

As her sparkling green eyes wistfully glide away, surely recalling a breadth of magical Christmases he could only wish to imagine (or be a part of), Remiel catches himself admiring the angelic expression on her face... then realizes his free hand has been inching closer to hers. It stops, centimeters away from draping his pinky over her own, just before she snaps out of her own stupor.

Humming in agreement, the royal debates bringing up what he says next for a moment. Though, ultimately, decides his curiosity is far too powerful. "Treasuring every moment with the people you care about... I like the sound of that." He smiles, taking the plunge and finally grasping her hand softly with his own. Cobalt hues fix themselves on her eyes to gauge her reaction, and her response, as his thumb gently caresses the surface of her hand.

"This might sound a bit selfish, but... have I been helping you realize your ideal Christmas?"

BUT LUKA IT'S COLD OUTSIDE + luka chêne

☉

Cozied close together in front of a crackling fireplace, and a holiday movie that seems to grow quieter and quieter the longer they stay absorbed in each other, Remiel really can't imagine spending this Christmas any better.

luka chêne 's dainty hand feels like a perfect fit in the warmth his own, and it is one that he wouldn't mind holding for a while. Or leading onto a ballroom floor sometime soon. The way she shyly looks away from him, flushing with heat that he feels through their closeness, too, serves to spark even more of an infatuation.

Their fingers entwine, and he squeezes her hand gently in return as he makes his sincere admission. "You've made me very happy this Christmas with your company," He answers, firelight gleaming in their eyes as he inches ever closer. "And happier still." He stops, a second away from the moment, searching for consent in those bright hues of creme-de-menthe green.

Then, he smiles.

"That's not selfish, Luka... it's something we both want."

Lips meet; softly, slowly, sweetly. Like sugar-kissed snow falling gently on hills of rosy pink.

BUT LUKA IT'S COLD OUTSIDE + luka chêne

☉

Saccharine and divine: Luka's lips were nothing short of either. Remiel smiles against her, only parting from that exquisite connection briefly to open his blue-grey eyes to a half-lid and admire her glowing countenance. So innocent, so pure, hovering there for another kiss. 

Not one to disappoint, nor refuse himself the indulgence, Remiel releases the mug in his other hand. The few ounces of eggnog left spill and sink into the rug below as he leans into her. His lips find her own again slightly greedier than before, and his tongue a degree bolder.

Beneath their blanket, his hand glides with gentle caress across her thigh, dipping into territories of warmth. "You're an exquisite kisser, Luka..." He whispers, their noses softly rubbing before he delicately leans her head back and kisses her chin. "What else are you hiding?"

His affections, now unrushed in the ebb and flow of his passion, dip from her chin and gradually down the length of her neck. Meanwhile, under flannel blanket, his caresses haven't yet dared to become something more. Not until they've felt the heat of her ardor rise further.

BUT LUKA IT'S COLD OUTSIDE + luka chêne

☉

Nestled warmly against her is a comfort he feels he's lacked for eons. The coldness of loneliness isn't so bad until you get a taste of such a pleasure again. He craves it; he wants to get lost in it. In her arms, in her bosom, in her warmth. Just completely enveloped and cared for.

The pesky turtleneck gets in the way of his endeavors, however, and his hand slides up from her thigh to seize the hem of her sweater and pull it up. But, when she kisses his forehead, it's almost as if a chime rings out throughout his mind, clearing the thick haze of passion he's developed until he realizes it had overwhelmed her own minutes ago.

The kissing stops. His hand, having nearly lifted the sweater over her chest, sets it down again instead. And, for a moment, he simply lays his face against her. She can't see it (maybe she can feel it), but his once fiery hues of cobalt now soften with apology.

And he backs away, clearing his throat and emerging out from their blanket to scoot backwards and create some space. "I, uh... I'm sorry about that, Miss Chêne," He says, running a hand through his hair as his eyes flick away from her own. He sees the emptied mug of eggnog he dropped on the floor, and resolves to distract himself by picking it up and placing it on the coffee table.

"That was probably unwise."

He said he wouldn't drag her down, after all, didn't he?

BUT LUKA IT'S COLD OUTSIDE + luka chêne

☉