A/N: Sorry, for the wait. You know, j*b is tiring...
The morning of December 24th dawned crisp and clear. Marco picked Alex up in his Civic. He even held the passenger door open for her with an exaggerated bow.
"M'lady," he said, his voice a terrible attempt at a British accent.
Alex rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. He grinned, sliding into the driver's seat.
He drove them not to his usual haunts, but to the Griffith Observatory. It was quiet this early, the city sprawling below them under a thin, wintery haze. They walked the grounds, Marco's arm slung comfortably over her shoulders, his hand occasionally squeezing her arm against the cold. They didn't talk much, just enjoyed the view and the quiet company.
"See that?" Marco said, pointing at the Hollywood Sign. "Someday, I'm gonna buy that and put my name on it. 'Marco-land.' Has a nice ring to it, right?"
"It's a historical landmark, you can't buy it," Alex said, her tone dry.
"Details, mami. You gotta dream big."
After the observatory, they went to a small, family-owned Mexican restaurant for lunch, the kind you'd only know about if you grew up in the neighborhood. Marco ordered for them both in rapid Spanish, charming the elderly waitress who called him mijo. They ate pozole and shared a plate of chilaquiles, Marco stealing bites off her plate despite having his own.
Back at his house, Rosa was already gone, spending the afternoon with friends before midnight mass. The house was theirs, filled with the quiet, anticipatory hum of Christmas Eve.
Marco led her to his room, which was, for the first time Alex could remember, almost tidy. He gestured for her to sit on the bed. "Okay. Presents. You first."
He pulled a clumsily wrapped package from under his bed. The paper was, true to his word, covered in cartoon spiders wearing Santa hats. Alex carefully peeled the tape back, her breath catching as she saw the dark green, worn leather cover and the gold-embossed title: On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection.
She opened it gently. The publication date, 1859, was printed on the title page. It was real. A first edition. Her fingers traced the old, slightly brittle paper.
"Marco… this is… how did you even find this?"
He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but a proud smile tugged at his lips. "I know a guy who knows a guy. And that guy knows a bookstore that doesn't ask too many questions. You like it?"
"I love it," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She looked up at him. "It's the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me."
"Good." He leaned in and kissed her, soft and lingering. "Now me."
Alex handed him a small, flat box, neatly wrapped in simple silver paper. He tore into it with his usual chaotic energy.
Inside was a high-quality, black leather wallet. But it wasn't empty. Marco opened it to find his driver's license and a few crumpled bills already tucked inside. And in the main photo slot, instead of a picture of a car or a rapper, was a small, slightly blurry photo of the two of them from the cabin trip. They were mid-laugh, Alex's head thrown back, Marco grinning at the camera like a lunatic.
"I noticed your old one was held together with a rubber band," Alex said softly. "And you never have a picture in there. So… now you do."
Marco stared at it, uncharacteristically quiet. He ran his thumb over the photo. "You… you went through my wallet?"
"Only to steal your license to get it sized for the picture. Don't worry, I put it back."
He looked up at her, his usual bravado replaced by a genuine, soft warmth. "This is dope, Alex. For real. Thank you." He pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. "Best gift ever."
The rest of the afternoon melted away in a haze of comfortable intimacy. They listened to music—Marco's mix of reggaeton and 90s hip-hop—and she didn't even complain. They lay on his bed, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her arm as they talked about nothing and everything.
As dusk fell, the scent of Rosa's cooking—tamales and ponche—wafted under his door, a reminder of the world outside. They heated up leftovers and ate off paper plates on his floor, a private picnic before the holiday chaos began.
The night was theirs. No family, no friends, no Carlos or Ava making surprise appearances. Just the two of them, tangled together in his narrow bed, the only light coming from the string of multicolored Christmas lights he'd tacked haphazardly around his window. It was slow and sweet and familiar, a language of touch and whispered words that was entirely their own. Afterwards, she fell asleep with her back pressed against his chest, his arm a heavy, comforting weight around her waist.
The next morning, he woke her while it was still dark outside. "Hey, mami," he murmured, kissing her shoulder. "Gotta get you home before Santa comes."
She grumbled, burrowing deeper under the covers, but he coaxed her out with the promise of coffee. He drove her home in the pre-dawn silence, the streets empty and peaceful. When he pulled up to her house, all the lights were still off.
He walked her to the door, her first-edition book clutched to her chest. "Merry Christmas, Alex," he said, his voice quiet in the stillness.
"Merry Christmas, Marco."
He kissed her goodbye, a soft, promise-filled kiss that tasted of sleep and coffee. She watched his taillights disappear down the street before she slipped inside, the old book held close, her heart full in a way she'd never quite expected it could be.
******
New Year's Eve was theirs.
They'd agreed to stay with their families until midnight, but they had a plan. As midnight approached at the Dunphys', Alex slipped away from the countdown chatter, retreating to the relative quiet of the backyard, her phone clutched in her hand. The cold night air was a shock after the warm house.
She dialed just as she heard the distant, muffled shout of "TEN!" from inside.
He picked up on the first ring. The sound that greeted her was pure, unadulterated chaos—a mariachi trumpet, screaming, laughter, and Rosa's voice yelling in Spanish.
"Marco?"
"HOLD ON—MAMÁ, I'M ON THE PHONE—SHUT UP, JAVIER—HI, MI AMOR!" His voice was breathless and buzzing with energy.
"NINE! EIGHT!"
"Are you surviving?" she asked, a laugh bubbling up in her chest. She could barely hear him.
"Barely! Malik just spilled punch on my shoes. It's a warzone in here! A beautiful, delicious warzone! Did you eat your twelve grapes?"
"SEVEN! SIX!"
"We don't do that," she said, leaning against the cold railing. "We just… watch a ball drop."
"FIVE! FOUR!"
"Aburrido," he teased. His voice softened slightly, the background noise fading as if he'd moved to a slightly quieter corner. "I wish you were here."
"I know. Me too."
"THREE! TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
The explosion of noise on his end was deafening—pots clanging, horns blaring, everyone shouting "¡Feliz Año Nuevo!" She heard the muffled sound of kisses on cheeks.
"Happy New Year, Marco," she said softly into the sudden quiet of her yard.
"Happy New Year, Alex," he said, his voice suddenly clear and intimate, all the laughter replaced with a warm sincerity. "The first one of, like, a million with me. You're stuck with me now."
"I think I can live with that."
"You better." She could hear the smile in his voice. "What's your resolution? To be less of a nerd?"
"My resolution is to make you slightly less chaotic. A 2% reduction, maybe."
He gasped dramatically. "You can't improve upon perfection, mami! My resolution is to teach Carlos a new trick. Maybe to fetch my keys."
"He's a raccoon, not a golden retriever."
"He's an opportunist. And so am I." He paused. "Okay, my real resolution is to make you smile like, every day. Even when I'm being a pain in your ass."
Alex felt a familiar, sweet ache in her chest. "That's… really cheesy, Marco."
"I know. The grapes are making me emotional. I miss you."
"I just saw you yesterday."
"Too long," he insisted. There was a burst of noise behind him—Javier yelling his name. "Alright, I gotta go. Mamá's handing out abrazos and she's gonna crush me if I don't get one. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Go. Don't keep your mom waiting."
"Hey, Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"Te amo. Just… you know. So you know."
The words, spoken so simply amidst the distant chaos, stole her breath. It wasn't the first time, but it never failed to make her heart stutter.
"I love you too, you crazy person. Now go."
He hung up, and she stood in the cold for a moment longer, the phone warm against her ear. This was the kind of sweet, fluffy moment that would have made her cringe a year ago. Now, it just made her smile. She turned to go back inside, her own family's celebration waiting, her heart feeling impossibly full.