by Jackie North
"Me either," said Clayton, when he figured out where Kyle was going with his thoughts. "I mean, I used to be, but I'm up for cuddling." His face felt warm, even as he said it.
"That's settled then," said Kyle, standing up from the table, scraping the chair back across the kitchen floor with a screech. "You pick out a movie for us, and I'll make some eggnog with rum."
"Sounds good," said Clayton, a little tremble to his mouth. He stood up too, and wondered, his heart beating hard, if he should wait for that kiss or step forward and ask for it. He wanted both, he wanted either. He wanted what Kyle wanted.
Kyle crooked his finger at Clayton and Clayton, in a daze, stumbled forward. His sock-footed toes met Kyle's sock-footed toes as he placed a hand on Kyle's slender waist, lightly, so that Kyle could move where he wanted. He tipped his head down, and kissed Kyle's sweet mouth.
That mouth tasted a little like salt and a little like butter, but it was good, like a dreamy Christmas gift he'd not been expecting. He felt the flicker of Kyle's tongue across his lower lip, and then it was gone. He straightened up, and lifted his head and smiled, rubbing his thumb across his mouth.
"Our first Christmas kiss," said Clayton, soft, a shiver running through him, a deep river beneath that of something else that felt more like desire than he could have imagined.
"Not our last, I think," said Kyle. "Now, go pick that movie and let me get used to you slowly."
Heart still beating hard, Clayton focused on the task of getting a movie going on the flat-screen TV, then he needlessly plumped the pillows on the couch, and rose on his tiptoes as he watched Kyle come into the living room. He had two glasses of rum-laced eggnog, one in each hand, and his mouth was curved in a smile that held secrets and promises, as if wonderful ideas were racing behind those blue eyes that looked at Clayton. He hoped there were, wonderful ideas and dreams that they could chase together.
His jaw worked as they sat down and Kyle handed him his glass. He'd not expected this for Christmas, not at all, and while he wasn't afraid of it, he was on the verge of thinking that he didn't quite deserve it. That is, until Kyle leaned against Clayton, forcing his way into the crook of Clayton's shoulder, and the only thing Clayton could do was to lift his arm and lower it around Kyle. Which he did, gently and carefully, until his arm was settled and he could feel the warmth of Kyle's body like a hearth fire.
"Easy now," said Kyle as he leaned his weight into Clayton. His hand reached out to gently pat Clayton's thigh, an intimate, slow gesture that was comforting and exciting at the same time. "We're just going to watch a movie and drink our eggnog and talk the way couples do when the main part of Christmas day is over and we're winding down before we start planning for next year."
"The way couples do," said Clayton, swallowing, nervous and pleased all at once.
"Yes," said Kyle. He held out his glass so that Clayton could clink his glass against Kyle's. "The way couples do."
This made the warmth and joy inside of Clayton, which had begun as a tiny dot only two days ago, blossom full force, and he had to catch his breath. But Kyle's body was warm and close beside him, and Kyle was focused on that movie, and everything else was still and quiet and peaceful.
Clayton made himself breath slowly until he settled down, though that warmth and joy was still inside him in a way that it had not been since before his parents died. This was good, this was very good, and he didn't have to run at it and grab it or chase it, like he'd always felt he had to with everything else in his life. He could sit very quietly, and it would simply be there with him, the way it was now.
The calmness he felt while the movie blathered on was good, and he drank his eggnog, and rounded his mouth around the taste of rum, and just was. With Kyle leaning against him, breathing steadily, warm and sweet and wonderful.
That is, until Kyle drained the last of his eggnog and leaned forward to put the empty glass on the coffee table. Was serious conversation about to start? Clayton didn't know that he was up for that, though he knew it had to happen eventually. He just wanted this moment, and a million others like it, to simply go on and on until the end of time.
Kyle shifted against him, and scooted until he could wrap his arm around Clayton's waist. Then he snuggled firmly against Clayton with his head full upon Clayton's shoulder.
"Where does the F-150 come in?" asked Kyle, surprising him. "I know I mentioned a truck and an Airstream, but where did the F-150 come from?"
"You need a truck like that," said Clayton, grateful to be given a subject he knew, and promised himself that he'd do the same for Kyle, over and over, whenever Kyle needed it. "You need one that's big, maybe even something bigger than that, to haul a thirty-foot Airstream—"
"Thirty feet?" asked Kyle, his voice rising.
He looked up at Clayton and the lights in his eyes was so very blue and handsome that Clayton wanted to lean down then and there and start on their second kiss. But he restrained himself.
"Why do I need thirty feet of Airstream?" asked Kyle, his voice serious, like this was a familiar and comfortable old argument between them. "I was looking at one of the littler ones—"
"You need thirty feet so you can have your supplies inside the trailer, so you can work on them," said Clayton, happily responding in kind. "You need to have what you need inside, without having to go back and forth to your truck bed to get anything. Like in bad weather."
"And there needs to be a place for you and me, I guess," said Kyle, the tease in his voice, and the flirt in his eyes making Clayton's spine shiver. "At night. To keep each other warm."
"Yes, there's that," said Clayton, his voice cracking a bit. He smiled, half to himself and leaned down to get that second Christmas kiss, and this one tasted sweet with rum. "There's that."
Together they settled back on the couch and watched the movie, which Clayton couldn't focus on, all of his attention being on Kyle. When he shifted, when he stroked Clayton's thigh, when he snuggled closer, his hand around Clayton's back, his fingers twined in a wrinkle of Clayton's t-shirt. There were richer men than he, more powerful men, but none more contented than he was at being right where he was. Watching a movie on Christmas day, the way couples do.
Chapter 12
Three quarters of the way through the movie, Kyle's phone rang in the kitchen, and seeing as both of them had people who knew where they were, he got up and went into the kitchen to answer it. Clayton listened with half an ear, not wanting to intrude, but when Kyle's voice rose with laughter, he got up from the couch and went to the kitchen doorway. There, he leaned against the doorjamb a little bit, so that Kyle could tell him to go away if he wanted to.
"Oh yes," said Kyle, nodding, gesturing Clayton closer. "He's not an axe murderer, I am quite sure. And he makes the best grilled cheese—no, it's better than yours, he uses regular cheddar and not all that fancy stuff, and guess what—wait a second, I'm telling you, he's invited me to his sister's tomorrow, if the roads are clear—"
Kyle listened for a moment, and then held the phone out to Clayton.
"They want to talk to you," said Kyle. "It's Brent and Richard."
Gingerly, Clayton took the phone from Kyle's hand and held it to his ear.
"Hello?" he asked, completely unsure what to expect.
"Is this the axe murderer?" asked a voice with a Chicago accent. "You better, by God, be a safe driver and be on the up and up or Brent and I will be out there, and we will hang you high, son, we will hang you high."
Then Clayton heard a muffled sound and a sharp hey, what the hell? as if the phone had been grabbed from Richard's hand. And sure enough, the next voice, a deeper one than the first but still with a Chicago accent, came on the line.
"This is Brent and you'll have to excuse Richard, but he's seen too many westerns and except for that ski trip we took last year has never set foot in Colorado, let alone been west of the Mississippi."
"I'm on the up and up," said Clayton as sincerely as he could.
"You better be," sa
id Brent, almost growling. "I know a guy in the FBI, and he owes me a favor, and as you know, the FBI always get their man."
Clayton nodded, and laughed a little because Brent and Richard sounded like one of those high-powered gay couples that Hollywood liked to present as the way all gay couples were. And indeed, their words had been a little dramatic and over the top, but beneath the fast talking was a layer of deep affection for Kyle and his welfare. These two might be far away, but there was a network of love and caring stretching all the way across flyover country.
"I promise you, he's in safe hands," said Clayton. "We're going to my sister's house when the roads are clear. My phone is broken, but Kyle will have his and you can reach him whenever you want to make sure he's safe."
"What happened to your phone, dear boy?" asked Brent, his tone changing as fast as his focus on the new topic.
"It fell out of my pocket when Kyle was helping me out of my car," said Clayton. "I'd been driving a while, and kind of—well, the screen shattered and it's all dark now."
"Kyle told us about your errand of mercy," said Brent. "And the Christmas knife."
"Kyle is going to wrap it for me," said Clayton. "Which is nice of him, but then he's a nice guy, which I'm sure you know."
Clayton was looking directly at Kyle and almost swallowed his tongue when Brent said, "I'm sure that's not all he's going to wrap for you." This was followed by a throaty laugh and more shuffling of the phone back to Richard.
"Never mind him, dear," said Richard, in a voice that was much warmer than before. "You sound like a good guy, and you kids should take it at your own pace. No sense rushing it when you've got forever."
Nobody had forever, but he and Kyle had a beginning to share with each other. They would take it at their own pace, and ignore any naysayers who might balk at how he and Kyle had met. This would be their future, and it would be up to him and Kyle together to determine how it would go.
"I won't let anyone rush us," said Clayton as sincerely as he could. "I promise."
There were more sounds of scuffling from the other end, and Clayton gestured to the phone so that Kyle would know how confusing it all was. Kyle took the phone from Clayton, and rescued him from having to figure it out.
"You guys are the best," said Kyle into the phone, his chin dipping. "But Clayton and I are watching a movie and we need to go now. Bye!"
Then, with a press of his thumb, Kyle hung up on Brent and Richard, surprising Clayton a little with the suddenness.
"They could go on and on all night," said Kyle. "And from the sounds of it, they were starting to wrestle with each other, which is a signal to me that the conversation is about to be over anyway."
Kyle smiled broadly and put the phone on the kitchen table.
"Now, where were we?" he asked, coming forward to place both hands on Clayton's chest. The warmth of those hands seared into him in the most pleasant of ways. "On the couch, cuddling, half watching the movie, half not?"
"Yes," said Clayton, swallowing thickly. "I believe you are right. But we forgot to call my sister and make sure." He didn't want there to be any sense of uncertainty for Kyle that he was welcomed. "Can I use your phone?"
Kyle handed the phone back to Clayton and he dialed Sarah's number, eager to tell her the news, to hear her voice, to ask his question. When she came on the line, he nodded at Kyle and gave him the thumb's up. Kyle slid into the curve of Clayton's arm like he'd always been there, and always would be.
"I hear the roads will start being plowed tomorrow," said Sarah, her voice soft and unhurried, which meant she was as relaxed as she could possibly be. "Will you make it tomorrow or the next day?"
"Tomorrow for sure," said Clayton. "It was so warm today, but listen, hey. I've got a favor to ask."
"Ask away," said Sarah. "What is it?"
"I've got a friend here, Kyle, and I would like to bring him home for Christmas. May I?"
Home for Christmas. The phrase echoed in his head in a pleasurable way as Kyle pressed close, a warm, comforting presence while he waited for his answer. He didn't have to wait long.
"Of course, of course you can bring Kyle," said Sarah. "You don't even need to ask. Sheriff Bob has already assured me he's not an axe murderer, and if he's the one that brought Shawn's present back to you intact—"
"He's going to wrap it for me, too," said Clayton. "So you don't have to worry about that."
"He could wrap it in a paper bag for all Shawn is going to care," said Sarah, and her voice rose as if to emphasize this. "He just wants to see his Uncle Clayton. He misses you. I miss you."
"Is it going to be okay with Luke?" asked Clayton. He needed to be sure of Luke, too.
"He's already nodding at me and pulling out extra chairs from the back room," said Sarah. Then she paused, saying something to Luke. Then she asked, "He only cares that your friend—"
"Kyle," said Clayton. "His name is Kyle."
"That Kyle isn't a vegetarian as we have no tofu in the house."
"No," said Clayton. "He is not a vegetarian. He loves bacon and butter and all the good things in the world."
"Then we'll be fine, Luke'll be fine with that."
A rush of love for his sister, so long missed, rose up in Clayton's chest and he had to move his jaw to keep it at bay. But then he realized that he didn't need to do that, not anymore.
"I love you, Sarah," said Clayton, feeling brave to be doing this with Kyle pressed close against him where he could hear Clayton's heart pounding.
"I love you too, little brother," said Sarah. Then, as if being brave, she went on, "I feel like I'm going to cry on the phone, I feel stupid—"
"Don't feel stupid," said Clayton. "I'm the same, I'm exactly the same as you, here. It's going to be good, it's going to be better. We're going to be okay, you and me, okay?"
"Okay," she said.
He heard her sniff, heard Luke say something in the background, and then heard her swallow.
"I'm going to hang up the phone now," Sarah said. "I'm going to have a good cry in Luke's arms and then we're going to share a glass of wine and talk about how good it will be to have you both in our home. How good it will be for Shawn to see his Uncle Clayton."
"Okay, Sarah," said Clayton. "See you soon. We'll call before we head out, whether it's tomorrow or the next day."
"Later, gator," she said.
"Later, gator," he said back to her, and then closed his eyes when he heard the click of the phone at her end.
Kyle hugged him hard, and then let go, stepping back, his hands trailing on Clayton's waist. Clayton blinked against the heat in his eyes and handed the phone back to Kyle.
"What do you need?" asked Kyle, his eyes wide and blue and so very generous and kind that Clayton knew he wanted to look at those eyes until forever ended. "More movie? Rum without eggnog?"
"I need to sit on the couch for a little minute," said Clayton. "Could you make us some garlic popcorn while I do that? While I catch my breath?"
"Yes," said Kyle, without hesitation. "You go on. Find something really fun for us to watch, and I'll make popcorn. Go on, now." He made shooing motions as if, once again, Clayton needed to be babysat and Kyle was the one to do it.
Obediently, scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, Clayton made his way to the couch and picked up the remote to scroll through the selections and give his mind something to do. Give himself a minute to catch his breath and make sense of it all. To make sense of being on the edge of such happiness, with his relationship with Sarah and her family well on the way to being mended. With a wonderful man in the kitchen making popcorn, giving Clayton the time he needed without making a huge fuss about it.
He found a movie, wiped his face with both hands, and swallowed, and sat back on the couch. He took deep breaths in and out while he advanced the movie to just the end of the credits, inhaled the scent of warm garlic and butter, and smiled as Kyle brought a tray with a huge bowl of popcorn, and small shot glasses that looked like they were full of
rum.
"Just a wee drop," said Kyle as he placed the tray down.
"Come sit next to me and hear my confession," said Clayton, holding his arm aloft so that Kyle would know he was more than welcome to sit quite close.
"What confession is that?" asked Kyle, his expression growing serious as he arranged the bowl of warm popcorn on Clayton's lap where they could both easily get at it.
"This movie," said Clayton. "It's the musical version of A Christmas Carol and I know it's hokey and that the music detracts from the story, but I love it. Now, please tell me whether that's okay, or whether we're going to break up here and now before we've even gotten started?"
"The musical version?" asked Kyle, and though he sounded quite serious, there was a quirk to his lovely mouth as he scanned the characters on the screen. "Oh, you mean the Albert Finney version. I've never seen that one."
He turned to Clayton in all earnestness, though there was a twinkle in his eyes.
"But I'm willing," he said, tipping his face up as if for a kiss. "I'm willing if you are."
"I am," said Clayton. He kissed that warm mouth, savoring the feel of it, and then settled back with Kyle in his arms. "I'm very willing."
He raised his arm and pointed the remote at the screen to turn up the volume to where they could hear it.
"Be warned," he said in a pretend serious voice. "These songs will stick in your head forever."
"I'm ready for forever," said Kyle. "I'm ready."
Clayton kissed the top of Kyle's head and wanted to pepper him with kisses all over. But they'd made a pact of sorts to take it slow. To spend time together and see how things went. To not make it like one of those quick-grab meetings in a bar. To be like two people who wanted to make forever last, to savor the beginning and the middle. To experience each moment like it was their first moment together, each kiss just like their first kiss. Only sweeter.