ask: Hi. Can I request Steven x gn reader watching Night at the museum. And it's around Christmas so there are cozy blankets and hot tea and coffee. Thanks.

a/n: christmas fluff. that is all. hope everyone is doing okay<3

...

It snows all day, which is nice until there's awfully heavy traffic through central London when you leave work on Friday evening, even for rush hour. It's been the longest of days and you want nothing more to be home as quickly as possible.

The universe has no such plans for you. First your bus is cancelled, and then when you ring Steven to let him know you'll be home late your phone decides that it can't function in the sub-zero conditions which are currently gracing London and dies.

Twenty-five minutes pass, and you stand alongside what seems to be hundreds of other disgruntled work-goers who want to be home and warm on their Friday evening rather than standing on the side of the road in the arctic December weather.

When a bus finally arrives it's all elbows and swearing and numb extremities, and thank god you manage to sneak on before the driver deems the bus full and the doors close. Traffic, traffic, traffic, and then a dark five-minute trudge through the snow towards the apartment. You buzz up and Steven lets you in, and then upstairs you drop your keys trying to unlock the door and if you hadn't been stood right outside it might have been the final straw.

Finally, finally you're inside, slamming the door shut behind you as though it has personally wronged you. The apartment is warm and filled with a soft glow from the Christmas lights which you'd spent the previous weekend putting up together, alongside your dubiously decorated Christmas tree. Something delicious smelling is coming from the kitchen alongside Christmas music, and it's only when Steven appears around the corner with a smudge of something white in his hair that you realise how tightly wound you are.

It's all you can do to keep tears from filling your eyes as he smiles and moves towards you wearing that stupid apron which he likes so much. 'Hi,' you smile, dropping your bag from your shoulder to the floor.

'Hi love. I was worried about you,' Steven says, holding out his arms. You go to him instantly, but then frown when he draws back with a sharp intake of breath. 'Jesus, you're freezin'. Where've you been? Why didn't you call? Marc was ready to go out lookin' for you.'

He draws you against him as he speaks, encasing your hands in his and bringing them to his chest.

'The bus was cancelled, then my phone died. And the traffic was bad because of the snow,' you reel off, still shivering despite the warmth of the apartment.

'Well, you're here now,' he says, brushing his lips over your knuckles. 'You okay?'

You nod, blinking hard so that he doesn't think you're upset. 'Just glad to be home.'

He smiles at that, and the love that you have for him which rises in your chest is such a physical sensation that you feel your shoulders drop and your jaw relax, your lips parting slightly. Steven's gaze darts down to your mouth as this happens, and then bends to press his lips against yours.

You hum happily, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away and straightens up. 'Go and get warm before we both get frostbite,' he tells you, waving you away towards the bedroom as he turns back to the kitchen.

Discarding your coat and shoes by the door you do as he says, changing into the warmest, comfiest clothes you own (well... Steven owns) and putting your phone on charge before joining him in the kitchen.

'I thought we could watch a film tonight?' he suggests as you hop up onto the countertop next to where he's preparing dinner.

'Sure. How was work?' you ask, and he pulls a face.

'Fine.'

'No luck with Donna?'

'Nope,' he sighs. 'One day she'll see that I'm talkin' sense. But 'til then...' he trails off and shrugs as if to say what can I do?

'She'll be sorry when you get her job,' you tell him matter-of-factly, and he smiles across at you ruefully. He's all smiles and softness where Marc is smirks and hard edges, not that you love either of them any less for it. But sometimes when Marc smiles all you can see is light sparkling off of the cutting edge of a knife. With Steven it's like the glow of Christmas lights through the window when you get home at the end of a long day.

'What?' he asks, and you realise you're staring at him.

'Nothing. Come here,' you say and he obliges immediately, moving to fit into the space between your legs and wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your chest. You put your arms around his shoulders, pushing your fingers up through the ends of his hair at the base of his neck and smiling when you hear him groan.

'How was your day?' he asks, the vibration of his voice in his chest resounding against your torso.

'Same old. Infinitely better now that I'm home,' you tell him, and holds you tighter for a second, pressing a kiss to your jaw before untangling himself from you and turning back to the food.

'Come on, let's eat. I'm starving,' he says, and you realise that you are too. You move into the dimly lit living space and settle on the sofas, you already starting to eat as Steven flicks through films on the TV.

'What're we watching?'

'Your favourite,' he replies, bringing up Night at the Museum on the screen and pressing play.

'This is your favourite,' you protest, smiling. He shakes his head as though he's utterly convinced that he's right.

'You said it was yours too.'

'One of my favourites,' you correct him, too caught up with eating to get into a proper argument about it. When you're both done you pause the film while he takes the dishes away and makes some tea (peppermint and green), before returning with chocolates as well.

'This is my idea of a Friday night,' he says happily, settling back on to the sofa with you. Moving to lean against him you pull a blanket over the two of you as he presses play, shifting so that his arm is around you.

You're so warm and content under the blanket in your cosy apartment that you don't even tell Steven to be quiet when he starts complaining about historical accuracies like he always does, feeding him chocolates instead to shut him up.

If he knows what you're doing, he doesn't mention it.