by Sean Michael
“Oh, that's a fine idea. A fine idea. The Wal-Mart will blow it up for you.” He nodded. Yeah. Plumb clever. “I like it. Let's stop and get some Longhorns anyway, yeah? I like ‘em.”
Russ chuckled. “Yeah, I could do the candy store. We call chocolate covered pecans Turtles.” Russ bumped his hip once as they walked. “Thanks.”
“Turtles? You Yankees.” He nodded and grinned, pleased all through. It felt damned good to help. “Let's get some pralines too.”
“And Gummi Blue Fish—you do have Gummi Blue Fish, don't you?”
“I don't know. What are they and we'll ask.” He encouraged that happy grin. Yeah. Come on, Yankee. Just come and have a good time.
“They're just what they sound like blue fish shaped gummies. Ginnie's favorites were always the lips, mine were the blue fish. I should buy some lips too, if they have them. Just one or two to remember.” Russ nodded. “Yeah. That's what I'll do.”
“Cool. And some sour worms. Yum.” God, he wanted to give Russ a hug. A nice, long hard one.
“Oh man, I haven't had sour worms since I was a kid.” Russ laughed suddenly. “I can remember the summer Petey and I convinced Jason Ramsey that these worms we gave him were gummi ones. We'd even put cocoa on a couple of actual gummi worms and Petey and I ate those, just to show Jason that we weren't fooling him, they were just making the gummi ones to look real now. He ate two before he realized we'd put him on.”
“Oh, man, that's nasty. Funny as fuck, but nasty.” Trey laughed hard as they wandered through Lammes, getting chocolate and candy and this and that.
“Oh, macaroons—I love these.” Russ chuckled. “What is it about Christmas that brings out the kid in people?”
“All the sugar and sparkly lights. Oh, that reminds me, we need to buy a new tree-topper, the old one's broke.” He piled his purchases up and handed over his card. “Clothes or house-type stuff next?”
“House type stuff. You do a star or an angel on top?”
“I'm easy. I had a glass Santa before. Which do you rather?” They headed out into the wind, towards the bridge.
“Easy, huh?” Russ gave him a little grin and then tilted his head. “Hmm ... how about we see what they've got—there's bound to be something we both like.”
“Cool. What's your position on trees—colorful and sparkly or classy and designer?”
“Um ... green?"’
He popped Russ’ butt and chuckled. “I meant the decorating of the old Christmas tree, butthead. You know, O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree, la la la la la branches?”
Russ laughed. “You don't already have decorations?”
“We do. We got lots. That's why I'm asking.”
“Oh, cool. I don't like the fussy ones that look like Martha Stewart put them together. I like it to look like real people did it.” Russ gave him a smile. “I guess I'm more into bright and gaudy than classy.”
“Oh, good. We've got way more bright and gaudy.” Trey grinned. Hell, if Russ had said classy? They'd have been stuck with plastic apples and candy canes and white bows. Classy wasn't his strong suit.
Russ laughed and pointed to the trees in the window of the store they were going past. Classy and overstuffed, each and every one. “It just doesn't look like a real Christmas tree.”
Trey nodded. “I know what you mean. That? Isn't about laughing.”
“Nope, that's about sitting around looking prim and proper. Man, old lady Wisson was a neighbor—I used to be afraid to even sit on the chairs, terrified I'd break something and have to sell every last one of my toys to pay for it.”
“Mine was Mrs. Elgin. She was a grouchy old bat with a huge old place. I used to do her yard.” Trey shook his head. “Hated those iris beds.”
Russ chuckled. “Nobody was allowed to touch Mrs. Wisson's flower beds but her gardener. This dude was older than her, I'm sure. He was pretty scary too, used to come after kids with the shovel. We used to dare each other to cut across her yard.” Russ shuddered and then grinned at him.
Trey grinned. “How many times did you go?”
“Once a day until my father caught me at it.” Oh, he knew all about that. They laughed together, heading into a huge house wares store, featuring a set of plates for $4.99. “Hey, you could break a lot of those before you were out good money. Too bad they're ugly as sin. I think Mrs. Wisson had a set just like ‘em—maybe her stuff wasn't so pricey after all.”
Trey cackled. “Yeah? I was thinking we needed some new Tupperware, if it's cheap enough. The chili I made while you were gone ate through the last bit...”
Not to mention the hole it drove through his belly. Damn.
Russ chuckled. “I appreciate that you don't make it that strong when you make it for me. That's just crazy.” Russ snagged a cart. “In case we find something else we need for around the house.”
“Cool. I reckon your Yankee belly wasn't up to it.” Hell, his belly wasn't up to it. An armadillo's belly wasn't up to it.
Russ raised an eyebrow and then shook his head. “I'm not going to get into a pissing contest with you over chili. I don't want to have to worry about my farts catching on fire.”
Oh. Oh, Christ, that was funny. He laughed long and hard, clapping Russ on the back and nodding. “Fair enough, Yankee. Hell, more than fair.”
Russ chuckled, grinning at him as they made their way down the aisles. “Just don't let me break anything.”
“You break anything? We'll run. Fast. ‘specially if it's a pricey thing.” He found a set of coffee mugs—green and red and blue and yellow. “What do you think of these?”
“I think they'll fit right in and I won't feel like I can't use ‘em in case I break ‘em.” Russ reached passed him to pick up a set of bowls in the same colors. “And we got dessert bowls to match—we'd better be careful though, that almost makes us fancy.”
“Oh, I like those. I think we're safe enough unless we buy those plastic dealies that go under the plates on the table ... What are those called again?”
Russ chuckled at him. “You mean placemats? They aren't fancy unless they're lace.”
“Placemats. Right. Lace is too girly. We're cowboys, Yankee.” He picked up hideous fake-leather and horn beer steins. “Cowboys.”
“So what you're saying is cowboys means cheesy crap?” Russ asked, nodding at the steins in his hand. “'Cause I'm thinking it's not a selling point to bringing in new cowboy recruits.”
“I'm saying cowboys need manly kitchen shit. Manly. You know? Leather, horn, wood, uh ... blue. That sort of thing.” He was holding back his grin with all he had, fighting it. Russ on the other hand was nearly choking he was laughing so hard.
“Uh ... blue, huh?” Russ looked around and picked up a navy bowl. “Would this be uh ... blue? Or is uh ... blue more like that pale glass over there?”
“Dark blue's cool. Light blue's for babies.” Oh, God. He was going to lose it any minute.
Russ started backing up slowly. “Now you're scaring me—that's something Martha Stewart would say.”
Okay, yeah. That did it. He laughed ‘til he was fit to burst, leaning on the cart and just cackling. Russ chuckled and grinned at him, popping him on the butt before heading on down to the next aisle. He shook his head, grinning ear-to-ear. Goofball Yankee.
His own goofball Yankee.
* * * *
He dragged the boxes of Christmas ornaments into the front room and settled on the sofa to start the untangling and testing process. The radio was playing carols and there was actually a little fire in the fireplace. He was feeling right friendly and Christmassy and cozy.
Russ came in from the barn, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together. “It's getting cold out there!”
“Yeah? I'm thinking we might have to have hot chocolate tonight. Everybody put up tight out there?” He gave Russ a grin, toes wiggling in his wool socks.
“Yeah, they're all fine.” Russ toed off his sneakers and left his jacket over the back of a chair. “You brought out the
lights.”
“I did. I reckon the Gonzales’ brought us that tree, we'd best gussy it up.”
“Gussy?” Russ chuckled. “People actually say that?”
He gave Russ a long look, one eyebrow arching. “Santa Claus is watching you, boy, you'd best be good.”
Actually, Santa Claus had already come and left some decent jeans and some work boots for those feet. Silly Yankee.
Russ just grinned at him, the smile actually making it to the kid's eyes. “I'll take my chances.”
Those smiles were coming more often now, the grey-faced hurting fading away as the days passed.
“Ah, a risk-taker, are you?” He patted the sofa. “Come on, help me out. Ben and Casey left them in a tangle last year after their visit.”
“Ben and Casey are your brother and sister-in-law, right?” Russ came and sat next to him, sitting close so he could grab a handful of lights.
“Yeah. They came for New Years and Ben helped me undecorate. He was stationed in Georgia then.” He passed over the white lights that went at the base of the tree.
“I always hate that part. It's always such a big build up and then bam, it's over.”
“Yeah, but I like the lights and stuff during. Guess I really like the whole Christmas thing, really.” He grabbed the extension cord and tested the string in his hand.
“Yeah, makes it cheerful. I wouldn't want to not go all out.” Russ passed his set over to be plugged in. Russ’ set worked too, the white lights bright and twinkling.
“So, do you have any cool traditions, things you'd want to do?” he asked.
“I always helped my mom make cookies for Santa. And I always tried to stay up to see Santa. Never did make it though—I swear my mom must have been exhausted every Christmas Day.” Russ gave him a soft smile. “What about you?”
“Tamales for Christmas eve and Christmas cartoons. We used to go to my Granny's and watch the Sound of Music. Silly stuff.” He blushed, shrugged. “Fun, though.”
“Well I'm up for cartoons. And I'll even eat your tamales if you eat my cookies.”
“That's fair. I'm all about the cookies.” He winked over and leaned for another string of lights. Russ was reaching for one too and their hands tangled as they tried to pick up the same one. Russ’ hand was cool, dry. Felt good. Real good. The room got real quiet, Russ not looking at him, not taking his hand away either, just kind of staying there.
He cleared his throat. “I ... Is this okay?” His thumb brushed the top of Russ’ hand, just sort of warming the skin.
He could see Russ nod out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. Maybe even more than.” Russ squeezed his hand gently.
Oh.
He squeezed back, letting his fingers twine with Russ'. “I'm glad.”
“Me, too,” murmured Russ.
“I ... Can I kiss you? Would that be too weird?” More weird than holding hands tangled in the Christmas lights.
Russ took in an audible breath. “Yeah. I mean. Yeah, you can kiss me. Not yeah it would be too weird. Well. It is, but. I mean.” Russ shook his head, chuckling, the sound nervous. “Just shut me up and kiss me.”
Trey grinned, using the hold he had on Russ’ hand to tug him over, just brushing their lips together, then doing it again. Oh. Soft. Russ licked his lips and then moved their lips together again, breath softly filling his mouth. The kisses continued, all soft and sweet, gentle brushes of lips, fingers holding tight. Russ’ eyes looked into his, warm and wondering and happy. Trey grinned again, rubbed their noses together. “That was nice. Thank you.”
“It was, wasn't it? I may have to rethink my gift wish for Santa.”
“Oh?” Their lips moved together as his smile grew.
“Course if I tell it won't come true...”
“I promise not to tell.” He took another kiss and another. Russ moaned softly, free hand coming to rest on his leg, just above his knee. He shivered, scooting just a little closer. “Russ...”
Russ stole another soft kiss. “Yes, Trey?”
“I ... Your hand feels good.” Better than good.
“That's good.” Russ chuckled, both hands squeezing a little. “Really good.”
They laughed together, breath mingling. “Oh, man. Yeah. Really good.”
Russ shifted, moved a tiny bit closer and then grinned. “We're all tangled up in the lights, Trey.”
He nodded, warmth filling his belly. “We are. How'd that happen, Yankee?”
“Well, I was minding my own business, untangling lights when you kissed me.”
“Is that what happened? I think I was minding my own business, untangling lights when you held my hand.”
“It must have been the elves then.”
“Either that or mischievous reindeer.” Oh, God. He was having so much fun. Russ tried to swallow his laughter and it came out as a snort instead. That made them both laugh, Russ leaning against him. “Oh, Yankee. I'm thinking we're going to have a nice holiday, if this is the start of it.”
Russ nodded and grinned at him. “I reckon you're right.”
“I reckon.” They laughed again, working together to untangle the lights for their tree.
* * * *
The front room was dark except for the lights on the tree and a few candles in angel and snowmen holders. Russ was lying on the floor, alternating between looking at the tree itself and watching all the shadows playing on the ceiling. Trey was finishing up the dishes and making coffee or something to go with the assortment of cookies and squares and various goodies the two of them had spent their free time baking. They worked well together. Whether in the kitchen or on the ranch, there was a harmony between them.
Then there were the kisses from two days ago. They'd been too busy getting the ranch ready for a day or three of nothing but the most basic chores to revisit it, but it had happened and he wanted it to happen again. Heck, he'd been wanting it to happen almost from the start, certainly as soon as he'd found out Trey was gay, too. It still wasn't a good idea. Trey was his boss. Trey knew where he was going, had a plan that involved staying in one place, putting down deep roots. If it didn't work out he'd have to go and Trey would be stuck working the ranch alone again, he'd have to figure out what to do with Chocolate and ... there were probably a couple dozen reasons why it was a really bad idea.
But life was fucking short.
He'd sure had that point driven home to him, now hadn't he? Funny how you wanted your sixteen year old sister to be chaste and sweet, except she was dead now and he hoped like heck she'd managed to fool around a bit, to live. To love.
It was Christmas Eve. There was a tree and lights and cookies and presents coming and a man he was very much attracted to. Russ guessed it was time to do some living of his own.
Trey came in, hands filled with a tray of coffee, a little flask of whiskey, and a big plate of cookies. He looked great—all decked out in a bright red sweater, white shirt collar at the top, green Christmas socks on. “Merry Christmas Eve!”
Grinning, he sat up, making room for Trey's legs next to him. “Good grief, there's what—twelve different kinds of cookies there—you think Santa's going to think we're trying to bribe him?”
“I sure hope so.” Trey poured a dollop of whiskey in each glass. “We'll take some to share at the big house tomorrow. They'll get eat right up.”
“Are we having Christmas dinner there?”
“There'll be a big lunch and then the Gonzales’ will head to Meridian to the grandparents for a few days. I've got tamales for Christmas dinner here.” He got handed a cup and Trey settled back into the cushions. “Is that cool?”
“Sounds great.” He shifted so that he was leaning against Trey's legs and sipped at his spiked coffee. “I'm looking forward to some time just the two of us without a whole lot of distractions,” he admitted, tilting his head to look up at Trey.
“Well, besides the normal chores, we've really got the next couple weeks free and clear.” Trey gave him a soft little smile. “You keep lookin
g at me like that and I'm going to ask permission to kiss you again.”
He smiled back, belly warming, and let his head rest on Trey's knee. “That works in really nicely with my plans.”
One of Trey's hands slid over his head, just sort of petting. “Good.”
His smile got wider, as did the feeling in his belly and he took another sip of his drink, watching the way the lights reflected in Trey's eyes.
“Is there anything wonderful in the plans for tonight?” Trey winked. “Besides stealing a kiss or two?”
“I wouldn't want to be greedy and take more than my share of wonderful.” He would, however, be more than willing to take more than his share of kisses.
“Oh, I think we've earned it. Six months of work. We deserve our holiday.” Trey's fingers traced his jaw, his chin.
“We should make the most of it then,” he noted, nuzzling into the touches. He wanted to get up and sit with Trey on the couch, wanted to take that soft, warm mouth and see how more than kisses tasted. But he was enjoying sitting here, on the brink with all the possibilities stretched out before them. A whole world of firsts just waiting to be discovered.
They finished their coffee, Trey's hand still just touching him as they listened to carols playing on the radio. He reached for a cookie and nibbled at it. The sugar was sweet in his mouth and on his lips and he licked them and his fingers to clean them. A soft moan split the air, Trey's touches stuttering. He glanced up, fingers still in his mouth. It wasn't until he saw the look in Trey's eyes that he realized how suggestive what he was doing was. His cheeks colored.
Trey blushed dark. “I'm sorry ... It's just ... You're so sexy, Russ...”
“Me?” He shook his head. “Now you, with those long legs and that sweet little butt? You're the sexy one.”
Trey's eyes went wide and those cheeks got darker. “You like my butt? Russ ... You ... You're a damned fine man.”