"I really do like it," John told him, soft and honest and eager, leaning over to press his lips to Bobby's in a brief kiss, as if the touch could anchor Bobby, affirm the truth of what John had said. God knew John had freaked out enough about Christmas gifts. I mean, what do you get for the best friend turned crush turned person you tried to kill? There simply isn't a Hallmark card for the occassion.

He turned the lighter around in his hands, tossed it with his right hand, and caught it in his palm before flicking it open, a smooth, practiced movement. Didn't feel any heavier than his existing lighter: and this was definitely more than just for Sunday best. "I'll carry it wherever I go," he promised, and found a pocket in his robe to pop it into. "Speaking of mementos," John murmured, before sipping on his coffee, "check your phone."