"Me, too," she says softly, settling her head down against the pillow, her fingers still moving against his skin without thought. It's not like she didn't have anyone on the island, but it was different. The island had always changed during December, thrown them into a world unlike the one they were used to and the only memories she has of Christmas are mostly strained. She remembers being freezing cold last year, unable to warm up, huddled in as many goddamn shawls as she could find and refusing to move from her spot in front of the fire.

This will be different. This is more like home.

"I should get a tree," she mumbles, though she's not sure why she's thinking about it now. They're both relaxed, she thinks she might actually be able to fall asleep again. "And a wreath. And lots of mistletoe so I can just make you kiss me every time you turn around."