by JS Harker
“I might have a date.”
“You have a new boyfriend?” Mom asked.
Derek had wanted to keep this to himself for another few weeks. Maybe tell his family at Christmas, if he absolutely had to. Telling his mother meant an endless stream of questions and judgments. Unwanted advice given at exactly the wrong times. He’d told her right after the first date with Gregory, and the next eight months were a constant barrage of how Gregory wasn’t good enough. Didn’t have a plan. Didn’t have a future.
Derek wasn’t so sure his mother hadn’t soured everything he could have had with Gregory, but that was all over. He needed to stop dwelling on the past.
No sense in avoiding the truth. She’d only ask about the date anyway. “I just started seeing him.”
“Who is he?”
“Flynn. He works in the mall.”
“At the store?”
“At a store. Mom, I should get going. I’m supposed to be at his place soon.”
“Invite him along for tomorrow.”
So not what he wanted to do. “Mom, Flynn’s not going to want to spend the night with the closed-minded idiots you call neighbors.”
“They’re your neighbors too.”
Derek’s neighbors were a set of girls who played Hamilton all night long when they drank too much and a couple of guys who lost too many rounds of video game racing. They weren’t the jerks he’d grown up around, the older folks who politely found ways of asking when he’d settle down and marry. At the last Christmas party, one of them even pointed out an empty house available for purchase. As if he were ever going to buy a house in a three-hundred-person village, or an eighteen-year-old was anywhere near ready to own one.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask him, does it?” Mom said. “And if he doesn’t want to come, postpone the date and come anyway.”
“And if I don’t want to come?” Derek asked.
“Please, Derek. You don’t have that many more years left before you’re off to who knows where.”
Years. Jesus, he didn’t want to think about next year already. “We get to spend the night in my room. If he wants to come. And we get to drink.”
“Derek, you’re too young to drink.”
As if he hadn’t started drinking his senior year of high school. She knew he had. He never had more than a few at any given party, and she knew that too. “I’m not going to get college-party wasted. I just want the option.”
Another long pause before Mom sighed dramatically. “I can’t promise you the Meyers will let you have anything. They’re the ones throwing the party.”
Hanging up on her would only make her call him again. Derek passed a display of holiday snack treats on his way down the baking aisle. “If you say it’s okay, they’ll agree with you.”
“I’m not going to promise something I can’t guarantee will happen.”
But she had probably told everyone he would show up. “Well, I’m not going to promise that I’ll be able to make it.”
“I told them I was bringing the fudge. I thought you were going to help me make it, and I don’t have time tomorrow.”
“Neither do I.” Derek tossed another few bags of chips into his cart. “I’m not coming out there tonight. I’m going to make some on my own, and if I feel like it, I’ll bring some by or go to the party.”
“If you feel like it,” his mother snapped.
“Yeah,” Derek said hotly. “I’ve got a life, Mom. Deal.”
Derek hung up. By the time he shoved it in his pocket, he was feeling guilty. He hated going to those parties every year, and yet he could never get out of them. For once he had good reason to avoid going, and his mother wasn’t going to accept work and boyfriend as enough cause.
If Flynn did want to go to the party, which, considering he liked going new places he would, Derek would have to go. He contemplated not telling Flynn about the invitation, but then his mother would ask, and then he’d have to lie or admit he didn’t want to ask. No favorable outcomes. Program glitch.
Damn it. He was going to wind up doing something he didn’t want to do.
But he’d have plenty of time alone with Flynn too. After gathering everything he needed from the grocery side of the store, he made his way through the crowded aisles to the condom aisle.
Purchasing a huge box was definitely a sign of desperation. What if Flynn was allergic to latex? And maybe Flynn already had condoms, and he didn’t need to buy any. Except he shouldn’t assume Flynn had condoms or lube. He probably shouldn’t assume Flynn even wanted sex. They’d flirted and hinted, but there were no guarantees.
Having a little hope wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, Flynn had nearly stripped him the last time they had a chance to be alone. He’d rather have them and not need them than be unprepared. Derek tossed the box of condoms and a bottle of lube into his cart and headed for the checkout.
On the way out to his car, Derek texted Flynn to give him a heads-up. Flynn lived somewhere along the edge of the city in the forest, and Derek had gotten lost on his way to the dorms the last time he’d left there. He plugged Flynn’s address into GPS and turned on the instructions.
The houses gave way to forest abruptly, and Derek turned down a narrow road. He went past the drive on his first attempt. The house was far back from the main road. Snow covered the route, and it was so narrow it was hard to tell if it was simply a gap between the trees or a path.
Flynn didn’t have a car, and he didn’t bother plowing the driveway. It hadn’t snowed that afternoon, but there weren’t any footprints. Flynn must have cut across the forest to the main road.
Derek nudged his car up the snow-covered path, proud when it didn’t spin its wheels along the way. He grabbed the bags of groceries and stepped out of his car but sank down, snow immediately filling his sneakers. Crap.
There was a giant snow castle in Flynn’s yard. Somehow Derek wasn’t surprised, even though the castle hadn’t been there when he had dropped him off the other night. There were probably larger ones on record, but this one stood three feet tall. It had three spires and a solid wall around it.
Derek set down the grocery bags on the snow and approached the castle. He did a slow walk around the structure. There were tiny figures inside that looked like they were shaped from ice. Detail after miniature detail. Was this a real place? Maybe somewhere close to where Flynn was from? Unless, naw, no way was Flynn royalty.
Derek took a few pictures of the castle. He stooped to take a shot of it as if he were the same size, getting down on his stomach in the snow. Which, whoops. He was getting wet and cold.
A blue glow came from the back of the castle. There weren’t any other Christmas lights on the exterior of the house, so one random light seemed odd. Derek couldn’t help thinking the castle was the perfect size for the little blue fairy he’d imagined during his fit of exhaustion.
Was it happening again? The stress of finals, family, and dating finally getting to him? Derek got on one knee. In a soft whisper, he called out, “Hey, you’re not here, are you? I really can’t afford to hallucinate tonight.”
The blue light in the castle stayed steady. Maybe it was some trick of the sunlight and the ice in the castle. Nothing to worry about. Derek snapped two more pictures and shoved his phone in his pocket. He picked up the bags of groceries and headed for the door.
Flynn opened the door for him and kissed his cheek as he stepped inside.
“Nice castle,” Derek said. The main room was one of those kitchen, dining room, and living room numbers where the couch was practically against the table. Derek went straight for the kitchen to set down the many bags of groceries. Then he turned around.
The room was a disaster of glitter and lights, like a disco threw up at a rave but without the black light. Derek was pretty sure Flynn wouldn’t know what that was, and he wasn’t about to be the one who told him. The gift bag he’d given him was taped on the wall, along with a few others and identical holiday cards, as if Flynn bought them himself and
put them up. Flynn apparently collected anything winter themed and glittery and thought it all belonged in his place.
Though that aesthetic didn’t explain the shelf with sewing needles sticking out of it. Christmas lights shone off the steel and glitter glue used to hold them on. A tiny house of foil surrounded by new pennies occupied the far corner.
And Derek’s mom thought he sucked at decorating.
Flynn scratched his ear and looked around as Derek did. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s a lot to take in,” Derek said. “Is this your place? Or do your parents decorate like this?”
“I’m house-sitting for a couple wintering in Arizona.”
Derek wanted to blame the décor on them, but the room screamed Flynn’s influence. “Do they know you’re using their CDs as coasters?”
“I didn’t start that,” Flynn said. “They were like that when I got here.”
Derek frowned and flipped one of them over. It boasted an internet trial service. He flipped a few more, and they were all the same. Old, unusable stuff dating to the 2000s. Derek turned them back over.
“Did I do something wrong?” Flynn asked. His voice had a slight tremble in it.
“You’re fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out,” Derek said. “Some CDs are valuable, but these really aren’t. It’s actually kind of smart because otherwise they take up space in a landfill.”
“What’s a—”
“A place where garbage gets sent to rot. Doesn’t work as fast as you’d hope,” Derek replied.
Flynn wrapped his arms around Derek. “You knew what I was going to ask?”
“I kind of got the feeling, once the word was out of my mouth, you didn’t know it.” Derek put his arms around Flynn in return.
Flynn grinned, and weird twists happened in Derek’s stomach. A smile all for him. No one had ever really seen Derek before, and he wasn’t sure Flynn understood him, but Flynn at least wanted to. He didn’t push, didn’t judge.
Derek was alone with Flynn in the middle of the woods. No more finals, no more stress about school. Sure, he had a million other things to stress out about—like his mom demanding he go to a party—but not in this moment with his boyfriend. Flynn’s eyes were so bright, and there wasn’t a trace of stubble along his jaw. Had he shaved, or did it just not grow much? Maybe his hair was too blond to see.
He could find out. All he had to do was touch Flynn’s cheek. Or kiss him. Or fall back on words and ask.
Kissing his boyfriend wasn’t supposed to be a test of his willpower. He wanted to. He had before, so why couldn’t he do it again? Derek bit the corner of his lip and tightened his hold on Flynn. Flynn adjusted his hold too. A patient happiness lingered in his eyes.
Derek didn’t want patience. He wanted Flynn to look at him like he had in his dorm room. Like he had after that kiss at the counter of Santa’s Workshop. But the longer he waited, the less sexy and more nervous he felt.
Oh, screw feeling like an incompetent boyfriend because he might not be the best kisser. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Flynn’s. On the second brush, Flynn moved against him, and they were kissing. Derek held on to him tightly as the moment stretched out between them. No harsh whiskers on Flynn’s chin, but Derek felt the beginning of his stubble catch on Flynn ever so slightly.
Warmth pooled in Derek’s gut, and his dick was half-hard a few heartbeats later. He wriggled against Flynn and lost his breath as nervousness claimed too large a portion of his headspace. Why couldn’t he ever stay still in a kiss? His cheeks were on fire, and he started to pull away.
Only Flynn wasn’t loosening his hold, and if anything, there was definitely a solid bulge pressing against Derek’s. So Derek rubbed his jean-covered hard-on against Flynn’s, holding on to Flynn’s ass as he did. Flynn leaned more into the kiss.
Okay, Flynn liked when he moved. Derek filed away the information and tried to get his brain to kick off so he could enjoy the wonderful way Flynn ran his tongue along his. When Flynn moaned, Derek melted in his arms. He writhed against Flynn and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. This was so good.
A bag on the counter suddenly crashed to the floor, and the thump and rustle of plastic startled Derek badly enough to make him jump. Flynn did, too, and then he laughed softly.
“I, um, bought some cold stuff. Should probably deal with that,” Derek said. “I wasn’t sure how much food you had or what you had, so I went on a shopping spree. Doesn’t help that my mom called me during, and I kept putting crap in my basket.”
“Are you hungry? I am,” Flynn said.
“I got some frozen pizzas,” Derek said. “We could cook one.”
Flynn nosed around the groceries as Derek pulled out the pizzas. He took out a package of mini marshmallows. His eyes lit up as he opened it. “These. Smell. Amazing.”
There was a pile of glitter beside the bags on the counter. Derek was pretty sure that hadn’t been there when he’d set them down.
Flynn tore into the marshmallows just as Derek suspected he would.
Derek took a marshmallow from the bag. “Try to make this one last. I only bought a couple extra.”
“You bought more than you needed? For me?”
“I had a feeling you wanted some.”
Flynn grinned at him, and Derek’s heart fluttered. He’d never had the power to make someone happy before, not in the way Flynn reacted to him.
God, he hoped he didn’t blow this.
Chapter Ten
MAKING fudge required a lot of heat and the willpower of a tenacious Summer fey courtier in the Winter Court. Flynn wanted to gobble the chocolate chips and the marshmallows and all the other things Derek had brought with him. Then Derek heated the ingredients and mixed them together. If the fey had a heaven, it would smell like melted chocolate and marshmallows. When Derek began a second batch, Flynn got temporarily banished from the kitchen for crowding him.
Flynn perched on the edge of the couch with the last extra bag of marshmallows. Fudge making apparently had a lot of stirring involved, and Derek spent most of his time hovering over the stove, adding things to either the pot or the aluminum pans he’d brought. Two were filled with chocolate already, which Derek had declared too hot to devour.
A little magic would fix that, but Flynn wasn’t that desperate.
Yet.
Lulu stepped out of her house and crept along to the end of the shelf. Fudge evidently made for excellent pixie lure, because Lulu had spent the rest of her time out of sight from Derek. She wasn’t plainly visible to him yet, but she wasn’t exactly hiding either. Her wings rustled, and her brow pinched. She had to be thinking about how to steal some of the fudge.
Flynn wanted some, but he didn’t want to disturb Derek’s cooking either. He held one of the marshmallows toward Lulu. She made a soft disgusted sound and shook her head.
“How long until the fudge is cool enough to eat?” Flynn asked.
“Little while,” Derek replied without turning around. “Cold as you keep your place, it shouldn’t be too long.”
Humans kept an insanely detailed track of time, and Derek wasn’t giving an estimate of that. Of all the times Flynn wished he were less vague about time.
Lulu flitted her wings again. Flynn motioned at her to wait, and she shook her head. She ran to the end of her shelf and took off into the air. She darted right for the fudge.
And then stayed there. Her wings rapidly beat at the air, but she wasn’t getting off the pan. She was stuck in the fudge.
Derek turned around. His focus was on the pot in front of him and the pan down the island counter where he poured the fresh chocolate in.
Flynn dropped the marshmallow bag on the coffee table and raced forward. He gently cupped his hands around Lulu.
When Derek frowned at him, Flynn forced a smile. For some reason, that deepened Derek’s frown more.
“Is something wrong?” Flynn asked.
“I was about to ask you that.”
�
��I’m fine.”
Lulu moved under his fingers, but she wasn’t free of the fudge yet. Flynn couldn’t really help her without crushing her in this case. A quick string of muffled curses in the pixie language came out, sounding closer to bells than English ever did.
Derek put the pot into the sink and wiped his brow. “I forgot how long this took. And how much stirring takes it out of me. I am massively out of shape.”
“I think you’re fairly human shaped,” Flynn replied.
Lulu snorted. Flynn wanted to glare at her, but that would take too much explaining.
“I, um, meant exercise. Athletic people are in shape, and people without endurance are usually out of shape,” Derek said. He pointed at where Flynn had his hands. “What are you doing?”
“Holding my hands here,” Flynn said.
“Okay. I see that. Why?”
Lulu tugged her hands free, and her momentum popped her against Flynn’s hands.
“Because?” Flynn replied.
Derek frowned again, like he wasn’t at all happy with that nonexplanation. He turned to the sink and began filling the pot with water.
Flynn opened his hands, and Lulu bolted for her shelf. But the momentary relief didn’t last as Derek sighed and turned toward him. Derek scowled at the corner of the pan. “I told you it wasn’t cool enough yet.”
“I know. I—uh—wanted to test it.” Flynn touched the bottom of the pan. It was still warm. “Curiosity.”
Derek snorted. His annoyed expression eased some until he came over to Flynn’s side. “I swear the glitter breeds more glitter. It’s got to be sentient or something. And hey, how did it get on the fudge?”
Pixie dust coated the corner of the pan and the counter beside it. Flynn turned his hands over, and they were coated too. “It could be my fault.”
“Roommate strikes again?”
“You have no idea,” Flynn muttered.
“Where is your mysterious roommate? I’d like to meet him. Or her. Or them. You never talk about them.”