Three Dates of Christmas

by KC Burn

  Then again, he wouldn't be surprised if the first guy he allowed to pick him up at work was a serial killer. Because that would correspond to his typical luck with men.

  "Sure thing. I can do that." Whatever objections Tony had were swallowed in an easy smile that warmed Dean's belly in an unexpected way, considering his nuts were about to freeze off in the wind.

  When the unobtrusive silver car pulled into the parking lot of a Tim Horton's, Tony let his shoulders relax. The snow had gotten worse while he'd been at the gym, making driving that much more treacherous. Following someone who seemed oddly skittish made it more stressful. Once he'd left the gym and saw how bad it had gotten, he should have rescheduled, because the last thing he wanted was to be responsible for this scrumptious Christmas surprise getting hurt due to Tony’s lack of impulse control.

  Dean got out of his car and glanced Tony’s way. There was a flash of something wary in the way Dean held himself, like a mangy dog expecting a kick. No, Tony was pretty certain that if he'd tried to reschedule their coffee date, Dean would have shut him down, fast and final. Especially since it was clear that Dean had surprised himself by accepting Tony's spontaneous invitation. Whatever fates or Yuletide spirits had led him to Dean's place of work had created a situation that Tony wanted to fully explore, even if it meant following Dean home. Just to make sure he got there safely.

  Tony got out of his car, using the open door to hide behind while he adjusted himself, because imagining any other reason to follow Dean home sent blood flowing to his groin. Fucking on the first date would be a mistake. Even if Dean was willing, Tony was certain that doing so would let Dean dismiss and easily forget about him, and Tony was too intrigued to be brushed off as a casual one-night stand. After years of working as a bartender, he was no stranger to anonymous hook ups, but his views had changed over the years, and something about Dean stoked his growing desire for a partner.

  Fortunately, Tony had had a pair of jeans in his trunk to put on after the gym. He was stuck with the scrubs top, but jeans would help him hide any errant erections Dean caused.

  "Timmy's? I should have known." Tony made sure his tone was teasing. He didn't want Dean to misinterpret anything he said. He was hoping for a more date-like date than coffee, and he truly didn’t mind Tim Horton’s.

  Dean shrugged. "It's close."

  Tony let Dean lead him inside, sad that Dean's pea jacket covered his spectacular ass. Although, he wondered how Dean could possibly be warm enough with the biting December wind whipping the snow into crazy swirls.

  He waited until Dean ordered, then stepped up and insisted on putting their orders together so he could pay.

  "I can pay for my own, you know."

  Tony gave Dean a big smile, hoping to melt Dean's defensiveness. He didn't know why the guy was so closed off, but instead of scaring him away, it only made him want to see what was behind Dean's walls. Wouldn't be the first time he did the opposite of what was expected; not for nothing did his sister and mother call him hardheaded and stubborn.

  "Of course you can, but I'm the one who asked you out." And Tony was damn well going to pay the next time they went out, too. Because this was hardly paying for a date, this was more like treating a co-worker. "Did you want to grab something to eat? I’m starving."

  Dean chewed his lip for a moment, considering, before ordering a soup and sandwich combo, pleasing Tony immensely. Now it was more like a date-date, albeit a super-economic one. Tony added his own order. He wasn't often hungry after working out, but Dean had woken up a number of hungers it seemed.

  After they’d gotten themselves situated at a table with their dinner, Tony perused Dean's features more thoroughly. Everything was narrow and fine-boned, almost delicate, but Dean was all man. Blond and blue-eyed—Tony's favourite. He wondered if Dean ever wore glasses. Because that would complete the bookish-businessman look that fueled a hefty percentage of Tony's fantasies.

  Tony took his eyes off Dean long enough to take a swallow of his own soup. Soup wasn't ideal first date fare, but it was hearty, and Timmy's didn't have the most diverse menu. For a place famous for its doughnuts and coffee, the food was quite good. Nevertheless, he wasn't interested in spilling any down his front.

  "What's with the scrubs? And, uh, the tattoos."

  Tony lifted his head to see Dean's gaze locked on his chest where the deep V of his top revealed a portion of a tattoo, his expression filled with fascination and a bit of heat. It didn't appear as though Dean intended to look away anytime soon. Tony grinned. Fascination he could work with. It was sort of the bane of his love life that the guys who really turned him on were rarely interested in him. Or if they were, they assumed they were getting some sort of rough trade, slumming it with a tattooed bartender who could have been in a gang.

  "I'm a registered nurse. I'm currently working in-home healthcare. We go into people's homes and help them with medical situations that might otherwise require them to be hospitalized. I change a lot of surgical dressings and catheters, things like that." Oh, those fucking catheters. Then again... if that batch hadn't been faulty, and he hadn't had to replenish his supply unexpectedly, he wouldn't have been late. Who knew? A Christmas miracle—maybe.

  Dean's eyes widened and he finally lifted his gaze. "A registered nurse. Wow. What made you decide to do that?"

  Tony fell for this guy just a little more because there was no contempt. No censure. The number of people, including guys he'd tried to date, who thought he'd somehow emasculated himself by choosing to become a nurse was incredible. Especially considering his strength had come in handy more than once. Incapacitated people came in all shapes and sizes.

  "Well, I had a friend, Mark, who got cancer. He was all on his own, but the home healthcare worker made a big difference in his quality of life. Allowed him to stay in his own home. At least, until the end."

  "Oh. I'm so sorry."

  Dammit. He'd made Dean uncomfortable, which wasn't his intention. Certainly, he hadn't meant to get all depressing right away. Tony wasn't sure where to go from here. Remembering Mark was a bit of a mixed bag. Mark was the reason he'd found his way, but it was still hard to think about his friend. Definitely not good first-date mojo.

  They ate in silence for a few moments.

  Dean cleared his throat. "What about the tattoos?"

  Tony grabbed at the lifeline with the desperation of a drowning victim, but he wasn't sure this was going to save the lighthearted mood he'd been hoping for. "After I came out, my papa made things uncomfortable enough at home that I took off. Travelled around the country... well, hitchhiked across most of the country, picking up odd jobs here and there. Although, most times, I ended up bartending. Got tattoos as little mementos of most places I stayed for any length of time."

  "What's that one?" Dean pointed toward the V of his shirt.

  It was one of Tony's favourite pieces, although he was pleased with all of his tattoos. Most of them were water themed and blended together surprisingly well, considering different artists created them at different times.

  "It's inspired by the Vancouver Aquarium. I washed up in Vancouver one year, got a job at Mark’s bar in North Van, and ended up staying and bartending to put myself through nursing school." There was more to it, but that could wait for a second or third date. Maybe even later.

  Dean's quietly assessing gaze told Tony he wanted to see the whole tattoo, but wasn't going to ask. The moment he did, though, Tony was whipping his shirt off, no matter where they were.

  "And it's okay for you to have them at your job?"

  Tony laughed, because the gauges in his ears were probably more objectionable than his tats, but Dean hadn't even glanced at them, as far as he could tell.

  "Sure. Besides, my clients seem to like 'em. Gives them something to focus on while I'm doing tasks that are sometimes painful and embarrassing."

  Dean sat up straight in his chair. Straighter. And frowned at Tony. "What do you mean?"

  Tony laughed again. "No,
no, I'm not a nurse/stripper. I've got full sleeves, too." He peeled off the zippered sweatshirt he'd been wearing under his jacket and was rewarded by Dean's sudden intake of breath.

  A quick glance confirmed Dean wasn't shocked. Nope. Those dilated pupils meant something else entirely, and sometime soon Tony would bare his skin for Dean's intimate inspection. Not tonight, though. He hadn't bypassed Dean's defenses just yet.

  "What about you?" It was time to find out more about his dinner companion.

  "Me? I don't have any tattoos."

  Funny. It was pretty obvious that Dean didn't want any, either, but he couldn't keep his gaze from flickering down to Tony's arms. Maybe they were better suited than Tony had hoped.

  "I meant, how did you end up at the pharmacy? I take it you're the manager, right, not the pharmacist?"

  "Oh. Yes, I'm the manager. It's a good job. I have a degree in business management, and... and I've worked there for a long time." Dean had tensed up, just a bit, but Tony didn't know why.

  "I meant to tell you earlier— I love the Christmas decorations. They look awesome."

  Dean rolled his eyes and huffed.

  This time, Tony sat up straight. "What? What's wrong with them? I mean, maybe they're a little kitschy, but it's so warm and welcoming."

  Dean's nostrils flared in what Tony had to assume was annoyance. "It's just such a pain in the ass."

  "The display?"

  "Yes. Well, it was more of a pain to put together initially, but now I've got the whole decorating scheme down to a science. I have everything mapped out and labelled, which makes it slightly better, but the whole Christmas thing just makes me want to scream."

  "You're joking, right?" Dean was responsible for that spectacular decorating, but hated Christmas? Not possible.

  "Of course not. Do you have any idea how horrible Christmas is in retail? How excruciatingly long the 'holiday season' is?"

  Tony choked and coughed. He hadn't expected such vehemence. "I don't even know what to say to that."

  Dean knew this was a bad idea. For a short while, he'd thought maybe Tony would be sympathetic. After all, Tony had all those awesome tattoos and the surprisingly sexy ear gauges. He looked like the antithesis of Christmas spirit, and yet... Dean had just spewed a few of his thoughts on the worst holiday of the year, and Tony was looking at him like he'd admitted to clubbing baby seals for shits and giggles. Any minute now...

  Yep. There it was. Complete disbelief.

  "How can anyone not like Christmas?"

  Dean could have said it in tandem, because he'd expected that exact question. Too bad, he’d thought Tony had so much potential. At least they were only a few hours in. Dean didn’t have to wonder how long before Tony cut his losses and left. He had until they finished eating. It might be a long time before he could eat at a Timmy's without regretting this night.

  For a minute, he considered lying. Saying he was joking. But why bother? It took all his effort to hide his aggravation with the whole wretched season from the customers at work; he had no energy left afterward for anything but honesty.

  "My favourite holiday is Halloween."

  Tony lifted one of those strong shoulders—that Dean would never get the chance to see naked—in a negligent shrug. "Okay. But just because it's a favourite doesn't mean you have to hate all the others, you know."

  Dean let out a little snort. Actually, it kind of did. Valentine's was a close second on his hate list. Somehow, crass commercialism wasn't nearly so offensive when it came to gore makeup and rubber monster masks. And the overriding sentiment of Halloween had never made him feel weird and lonely.

  "You don't understand. I've worked in retail since high school. The very second that Halloween ends, everything orange and black is relegated to bargain bins, and out comes the red, green, and white. And I mean the very second. The store must be decorated for the first day in November. It's probably not as bad in the States because they at least have Thanksgiving between Halloween and Christmas, so their Christmas season maybe isn't as long."

  "Okay, not to interrupt you mid-rant, but I'm pretty sure retail stores in the States start gearing up for Christmas earlier than Thanksgiving. Isn't the day after Thanksgiving a huge discount day, where people do Christmas shopping?"

  Mid-rant. Dean's cheeks heated because he knew he sounded like a bit of a fanatic. Militant? Crazy? Something, for sure. Instead, he focused on Tony's other words.

  "Maybe. But at least their focus is split. Here it's two solid months of nothing but unrelenting Christmas cheer and marketing. Christmas music for a solid eight to ten hours a day, sometimes twelve or fourteen, depending on my workload. Peppermint. Gingerbread. One minute after midnight, it's all ‘Frosty the Snowman’ and ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’."

  Now, Tony was laughing at him. "Seriously? You don't like peppermint or gingerbread, either?"

  "It's all so sickly sweet. Syrupy." In taste and sentiment, both, and he couldn't relate to any of it. "I can't even bring myself to wish anyone a Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays anymore. Just hearing it makes me cringe. And every year, I have to work late on Halloween to switch out the décor, missing all the good stuff."

  Tony squinted at him while he chewed the last of his sandwich. Dean finished up his soup, giving his mouth something better to do than continue his... rant.

  "Tell me one thing. Who made that North Pole display at the store? The one with the house."

  "I did. Why?"

  “And another thing, who brought in all the real evergreen accents? Because those all have to be bought and arranged each year.”

  Dean answered a little more warily, “I did.” Even more irritating, he had to use his own money too, but the fake stuff never looked quite right.

  "Then why did you make it? Why spend so much time on it?"

  What was this, an interrogation? "It's my job. I make sure all the displays are perfect. I spent the same amount of time on my Halloween displays." Less so on the other holidays, but no one could fault him for not theming the store appropriately. If nothing else, he had an impeccable work ethic. His customers expected the over the top Christmas displays and they pleased his boss.

  "Oh my God." Tony's gaze lifted. “You're the one the girls called old Scrooge."

  Shock froze Dean's fingers, and his spoon dropped heavily back into the nearly empty bowl. Heat radiated from his cheeks, and he could only imagine how red and flustered he must look. Most times, he was able to bury any sort of emotional response that would show on his face. Learning that control had taken a long time. Some random man he'd only known for an hour or two shouldn't have been able to break through his defenses.

  If he hadn't already been sure this would be his one and only date with Tony, those words would have confirmed it.

  "There's no shame in doing a job well and expecting others to do the same." He wiped his mouth off with a napkin and stood.

  Oh shit. Tony had fucked this up, but he'd been so shocked when he'd realized the sexy, reserved Mr. Murphy was the same "old guy" those teenagers had spoken of with such derision, that he hadn't kept his mouth shut. Now, the most intriguing man he'd met in years was getting ready to leave in the middle of their first date.

  Tony whipped out his hand and laid it on Dean's forearm. "No, hold on, please. Don't go."

  Dean's demeanor, so haughty and cold, should have given him freezer burn just from the simple contact, but the uncomfortable flush and the way Dean wouldn't meet his gaze told a different story. Maybe it was stupid to believe in fate or destiny, or even that the Spirit of Christmas was out there, somewhere, weaving a miracle just for him, but he was convinced he needed to see where this went with Dean.

  "Look, I think we both know we're very different people..."

  No. Tony wasn't letting this spark they had between them fizzle out like this. It would make a mockery of all the magic of the season.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Please sit down." Tony let his sincerity ring
in his tone.

  Pursing his lips, Dean remained standing but didn't reach for his jacket. After several interminable moments, he slid back into his seat, but he still didn't meet Tony's gaze.

  Stupid, stupid. He'd known Dean was as wary as a feral cat, and yet, he'd still allowed careless words to escape. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't try so hard for a man he'd just met, but something about Dean said it would all be worth it in the end, if he was able to navigate past Dean's thorny defenses.

  Dean didn't pick up his untouched sandwich, merely sat stiffly in the seat, clenched fists resting on the table. Tony took a chance and wrapped his hand around one of Dean's fists. The skin was cool, and as much as he wanted to take both of Dean's hands in his to warm them, he didn't think Dean would allow such an intimate gesture.

  "I didn't mean anything bad by what I said. I certainly wasn't trying to say you don't take pride in your job, even if there are parts you don't enjoy. Honestly, I was just surprised. Because you're..." Tony took a deep breath. He didn't want to scare Dean away, but he suspected if he didn't open up and be truthful, Dean wouldn't ever believe him. "You're gorgeous. And while you're certainly older than those girls, you're not old by any stretch. Younger than me, that's for sure."

  Dean flicked a questioning look at Tony before dropping his gaze back to his lap. Tony chose to take that as encouragement to continue.

  "I had expected someone old... white haired, grumpy, and sour faced. But you're not. You’re sexy, and you seem to have your life all figured out." At first glance, Tony had attributed Dean's aloofness to self-confidence, but it hadn't taken long to see Dean was pretending. He was mimicking the trappings of self-confidence through sheer determination, and Tony wanted to know more.

  The flattery—which was nothing more than the truth—was enough to soften the steel in Dean's spine, and he finally relaxed into his seat.

  Dean finally raised his eyes and looked pleadingly at Tony. "Is it seriously such a crime to dislike Christmas? I do have valid reasons. You'd probably hate it, too, if you had to deal with it non-stop for two months."