|
In case there is any confusion: the following story is not real, nor do I intend for you to believe it. Seriously, don't. Pure, unadulterated fiction. Written for Don We Now Our Gay Apparel 2006. Massive thanks to Augustusceasar and Gweneiriol for excellent beta services. Why Joey Still Believes in Santa
It was snowing, for one thing. "What the fuck?" Chris had said several times and with increasing outrage. Joey simply shrugged, feeling a little apologetic for some reason. He knew Chris hated the cold, and he had a pretty good idea why. But he was still a Brooklyn boy at heart in spite of seven years mostly spent in Florida. The idea of a white Christmas gave him a goofy grin that he couldn't control, even in the face of Chris's affront. "Maybe it's global warming, dude. I don't know," he said, patting Chris's shoulder sympathetically as they looked out the window at Justin and Lance jumping around like fools and trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. "Warm, my ass. If I wanted snow, I'd go back to Pennsylvania." Chris stomped off and threw himself onto the couch next to JC, who was already wrapped in two blankets and sipping hot cocoa. "We need a fire." JC didn't even blink when Chris stole his mug and took a noisy slurp. "This place should really have a fireplace." Joey turned back to the window, tuning out Chris's rant on why Floridian houses weren't supposed to need fireplaces. Justin and Lance had shifted to trying to make snowballs. There wasn't really enough snow on the ground yet to make anything bigger than a golf ball. Undeterred, Justin was pelting Lance as fast as he could pick up snow. Lance was throwing at a slower frequency, pausing between barrages to add to the stockpile by his feet. Joey grinned. Trust Lance to think ahead. Unable to resist any longer, Joey grabbed his jacket and ran outside. It only took a second for Lance to spot him, and then he was being bombarded by clingy white powder. "Bass, you traitor!" he bellowed. "Just wait till I get my hands on you!" Lance smirked. "You'll have to catch me, first." Brave words, but Lance ran like a girl and couldn't find any traction on the snow. Joey's feet quickly seemed to remember the trick of running on slippery grass that they'd learned when he was a child. He caught up to Lance in seconds, tackling him to the ground. For a breathless moment, Lance stared up at him and he couldn't think for drowning in peridot waters. Then Justin jumped onto his back and shoved snow down his shirt. With a roar, Joey threw him off. Justin darted away, more agile than Lance, and Joey ran gleefully after him. And if the snow weren't enough, then there were the reindeer. Eight of them, milling around the front lawn like it was the North Pole. "What the fuck?" Chris said several times, tugging the tail of his shirt out of a reindeer's mouth. "No, seriously, why is Rudolph on our lawn?" "None of them have red noses," JC pointed out. "Hey, there," he added, holding out his hand to be sniffed by a curious and distinctly black-nosed deer. "You're a friendly one, aren't you?" Lance had ducked behind Joey and seemed intent on maneuvering Joey between himself and the deer. Looking back at him, Joey was surprised to find that Lance was watching the animals with a wariness that bordered on fear. "Dude, what's with you?" "Ihaveareindeerphobia," Lance whispered. Joey blinked. "You what?" "I. have. a. reindeer. phobia." Lance's whisper was closer to a hiss. "Don't tell Chris." Joey could understand part of Lance's fear; if Chris found out that Lance hid from reindeer, Lance wouldn't be able to move for all the antlers and plush reindeer toys. Not to mention the number of times all of them would be forced to listen to "Rudolph" and "Grandma Got Run-Over By a Reindeer". But how the hell did Lance end up with a reindeer phobia? "How the hell did you end up with a reindeer phobia?" "Shh!" Lance pressed up against Joey's back, apparently trying to hide from the caribou *and* Chris. "He'll hear you!" "Chris or Rudolph?" Joey asked in an attempt not to be distracted by the feel of Lance's crotch against his butt. Lance punched Joey in the ribs. "Jerk." Grinning, Joey scratched the white blaze on the forehead of the reindeer nearest to him. It made a snuffly sound and gazed up at him with adoring, liquid brown eyes. "They seem tame," Joey said, only to be drowned out by Justin's wail of outrage. "You want to know what they're doing on our front lawn? They're shitting, that's what they're doing!" Standing on one foot, he held the other out for inspection. His sneaker was caked with snow and something unpleasantly brown. They all stared at it in silence for a moment, and then Chris snickered. The reindeer that had been snacking on his shirt whickered back with almost exactly the same sound. If Joey hadn't known better, he would have thought the reindeer was laughing at Justin as much as Chris was. And that wasn't even mentioning the milk and cookies left sitting on the coffee table in the living room. Joey had stumbled out of bed to take a piss in the wee hours of the morning. When he was done, he decided to get some water from the kitchen, only to find a lamp on in the living room and a drink and snack waiting for him. Or for someone else, but Joey was a firm believer in sharing food with all comers. The cookies were delicious, a warm, gooey chocolate chip that tastes even better chased by a mouthful of cold milk. Joey was reaching for another when he heard a shuffle by the door. Lance walked in, blinking in the soft light. He had on a pair of red flannel pajama pants and nothing else. Joey had seen him that way a thousand times, but lately, it was hard to look away. Joey wasn't entirely sure, but he thought maybe Lance had been looking back. "Hey," Lance murmured, grabbing a cookie and dropping down beside Joey on the couch. "What're you doing up?" Joey shrugged, the movement brushing his arm against Lance's. "Just having a snack." "Mmm." Whether that was an acknowledgement of his answer or a comment on the cookies, Joey wasn't sure. He didn't really care, given the drop of melted chocolate on Lance's lower lip. On impulse, trusting that Lance wouldn't hate him even if he shot him down, Joey reached out a finger and gently swiped the chocolate away. Lance's eyes were glued to his hand as he brought the finger to his mouth and licked away the chocolate. Yeah, he had Lance's attention, all right. But the <I>pièce de résistance</I>? When Joey woke up the next morning, he had exactly what he wanted, right there in bed beside him. |
|
|