SeSa 2006 - Of Pastries and Mistletoe
Dec. 20th, 2009 04:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raynedanserwritesChris set the pan on the shelf, took off his thick oven mitts, and smiled as he wiped his hands on the apron tied snugly around his waist. The mail had come while the cookies were in the oven and he walked down the shoveled path to the mailbox. It was empty, as he'd suspected it would be. That was fine. He didn’t get much mail. He hummed softly and started to turn around until movement in Mrs. Ianazzi's yard caught his attention.
His neighbor across the street had died a few weeks before and Chris knew through the flourishing town grapevine that this was her nephew. Whether he was going to stay in town or pack up and sell the house remained the mystery of the week. Chris watched as the other man shoveled the walk until the cold got the better of him, and then went back inside.
As Chris was heating cocoa, an idea occurred to him and he grabbed a second mug from the shelf, and then filled them both. He shrugged into his heavy coat, pulled a warm knit hat low on his head and grabbed the steaming mugs.
"You don't have to shovel everything at once, you know," Chris said a few minutes later. He held out one of the mugs in greeting.
The other man took the mug and sipped it cautiously. "Thanks."
"Welcome. I'm Chris. The bakery across the street is mine."
"Joey. You always do this? Take strangers mugs of cocoa?"
Chris toed at the snow with his boot. "Nah, just some of ‘em."
Joey finished off the mug and held it out to Chris. "Thanks. I'll see you around," Joey said before he turned around and picked up the shovel again.
It was pretty clear to Chris that he was being dismissed. He shrugged and started back to his cottage. The rest of the afternoon, he kept going over the encounter in his head. He knew that his new neighbor was mourning. Mrs. Ianazzi had raised him almost since birth and had been the only parent Joey had ever known. All this had been before Chris's time. He'd only been in town for a few years, but once again the town grapevine came through for him.
Later in the week, Chris had almost pushed the encounter to the back of his mind. Main Street had finally been decorated for the holidays and he was walking slowly down the sidewalk as he stared at the displays in the shop windows. Mrs. Müller always had the most amazing display and this year was no exception. Chris stared at the beautiful decorations as he slowly stepped sideways, taking it all in a little bit at a time.
Until he bumped into something solid and not moving. "Oomph!" Chris looked up and his eyes widened in surprise. "Joey! I'm sorry, man. How ya doing?"
Chris watched Joey's eyes cloud and the muscle in his jaw twitch and figured he wasn't going to get an answer. And he was right, he was saddened to see, as Joey just nodded his response and continued down the sidewalk. He watched Joey's retreating back and then shrugged the encounter off as he walked the rest of the way to Nana Kyle's diner for lunch.
As always, the waitresses were bustling about busily and the tables were mostly filled when Chris walked in. His companion waved to him from the corner table and Chris nodded in acknowledgement then headed over.
"How you doin, babe?" Chris asked as he kissed his friend's temple before sitting down. He pushed the menu to the side. He had it memorized and already knew what he'd be ordering. Every Thursday for the last four years, he and Howie had occupied the same table and had the same meal. Ordering was just a formality. One day, he’d confuse everyone and order something different, but not today.
Howie smiled and behind his glasses his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'm good." He paused to sip his coffee. "Have you met Mrs. Iannazi's nephew yet?"
Chris snorted. "If you could call it that." And then he described to Howie the two times they'd met. "So, yes, we've met, but he's been surly as Hell," he finished.
"Chris, the only family he's ever known just died and it's right before Christmas. You're lucky surly is all he's being."
Chris made face as he considered Howie's words. Howie winced. "Whatever you're thinking Chris, don't. Just - I know you when you start plotting. Don't do it."
Chris put on his most innocent expression. "Who says I'm plotting anything?"
•••••
The following morning, Chris woke early like he always did. He was in a good mood and set about filling his daily orders - bread and rolls for Nana Kyle, sweets for the school. He hummed Christmas carols as he moved quickly around his kitchen. He thought about his conversation with Howie from the day before and told himself he wasn't up to anything. He was just making a new neighbor feel welcome. He hoped.
Hours later, he had adjusted his oven for the last time. He pulled out all of the necessary ingredients and started putting everything together. By the time he was done, his kitchen smelled deliciously of apples and cinnamon. Whistling, he grabbed a plain white platter and lifted the pastry out of the baking pan and onto the platter before scurrying across the way to Joey's front door. Balancing the plate in one hand, he knocked quickly.
When the door swung inward, Joey stood just inside, squinting in the bright light. "Chris? What are you doing here?"
Chris held up the plate. "I brought you a house warming gift," he explained.
Joey looked down at the plate quickly then back at Chris. "House warming gift," he echoed.
"You have something against apples?" Chris teased.
Joey blinked up at him. "Huh? No, not a thing."
"Then take the plate, Joey," Chris urged.
Joey took the plate, grumbled terse thanks and closed the door.
"Well," Chris said as he started back across the street. "That went well."
•••••
Chris tucked the phone beneath his chin and moved smoothly around his kitchen. He reached deep into the refrigerator and pulled out two jars of jelly, staring at the labels. "Raspberry or strawberry?" he asked into the phone.
Howie's laugh filled his ear. "Raspberry. So you're still going to keep this up?"
Chris moved back to refrigerator and took out a bowl of whipped cream and set it out on the counter next to a tray of small, hollow cakes. "Are you kidding? I'm more determined now than ever."
Carefully, Chris filled a few of the cakes with the cream slowly dribbling off the tip of a spoon, and then moved on to filling the remainder with the raspberry jelly. They talked for a few more minutes before saying goodbye.
Without the phone, it didn’t take long until Chris had enough of the small cakes. Today, Chris chose a large white platter with a scalloped edge and gold "lace" brushed delicately on. It was snowing lightly, so Chris shrugged into his jacket, pulled a thick knitted hat low on his head and grabbed the plate before heading out the door.
By the time he reached Joey's door, his teeth were chattering and Chris hoped he'd worn Joey down enough that he'd be allowed in so he could warm up. He knocked quickly and was relieved when the door opened immediately. He was even more relieved when Joey stepped aside so he could come in.
"More baking?" Joey asked quietly. He didn't check to make sure Chris was following, just went into the small living room where a fire burned warmly in the fireplace.
Chris followed him in before handing the platter over. Today, Chris noticed with a small amount of pleasure and relief, Joey seemed a little more relaxed. And oh! Was that a hint of a smile he saw?
"Probably want to either eat those or put them in the fridge fairly quickly," Chris advised. "There's jelly n' whipped cream in 'em," he continued when Joey raised one eye brow at him.
Joey picked one up, turning it around as he studied it. "Which is which?"
Chris grinned. Gotcha. "The ones with red piping are filled with homemade raspberry jelly."
"My favorite." Joey grinned back and popped one of the small cakes into his mouth.
"I know," was all Chris answered with, but he caught the very subtle softening in Joey's expression before he quickly hid it.
Joey left the room a moment, taking the platter with him. When he returned, he held the platter from yesterday, washed and shining brightly and held it out to Chris. “Figured you might need this back,” he explained.
Chris had more platters and serving dishes than he would ever be able to use, but he took it anyway. “Thanks.”
*****
All in all, Chris reflected as he bundled up and trudged over two mornings later, the daily baking was going pretty well. He’d gotten a handful of real smiles from Joey and there was even some semblance of conversation. Chris took a moment to give himself a mental pat on the back. Nice work. Joey might have a bit of Christmas spirit yet, in spite of himself.
However, when Chris knocked on the door and a bleary eyed Joey answered, hair sticking up randomly, plaid flannel pants hung precariously on his hips, Chris wasn’t quite so sure of himself.
“Chris?” Joey asked through a yawn. “It’s seven in the morning, what are you doing here?”
Chris held up a basket of steaming muffins and a butter knife graced with a poinsettia on the handle. “I brought breakfast,” and even to his own ears, it sounded lame. What had he been thinking? Coming over this early in the morning? So really, it should have come as no surprise that Joey grumbled something about coming back at a decent time before shutting the door firmly in Chris’s face.
Except it was a surprise and Chris stood there even after he’d heard the lock click back into place, staring at the gold door knocker. He had just convinced himself that Joey had gone back to bed and turned to leave when the door opened again. Joey filled the opening, a dark green flannel robe pulled around him.
“You still here?” Joey asked as he knotted the robe. “You do realize that seven is a bit indecent for most people, right?” Joey asked. “I should have gone back to bed.” He stepped aside and Chris came in and closed the door behind him.
“But you didn’t,” Chris pointed out helpfully.
“No. Don’t make me regret it.”
Chris held up the muffins as a peace offering and smiled, but only a little. “They’re still warm.”
Joey sighed and smiled in return. “Ok ok. Let’s go eat them, then.”
A short time later, they were seated in the sunlit dining room, plates in front of them littered with muffin crumbs. The nearly empty basket was on the table between them and Chris was debating another one or heading home to rethink the whole strategy. Maybe Joey didn’t want Christmas spirit. Maybe Joey was happy being a lonely grump. Maybe …
“So, this baking thing. How did you get started?” Joey asked as he took another muffin from the basket. The last one, Chris noted with a small smile.
Chris pulled the empty basket over and folded the bread cover into it. “Your aunt. My mom was dying, my dad was closing himself off to basically everyone. Your aunt called me over one day and showed me how to make petit fours and I was hooked.”
Joey took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. Chris could see the wheels grinding. “That’s how you knew which my favorite was. She told you.”
Chris nodded. “Right. It was the only kind we ever made.” And now, Chris decided, was a good time to excuse himself. They’d had breakfast and Joey talked a little. Chris decided he’d take that little bit of progress and run before something happened to spoil it.
So as he walked down the hallway towards the front door again, Joey following closely behind him, he was already planning what he would bring by tomorrow. Chris pulled open the door and stepped out.
The door was half closed when Joey caught it and asked, “You’re coming back again tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Chris nodded, not daring to turn around and see the look on Joey’s face. He was suddenly surprised at how much he’d come to enjoy the daily baking for Joey and the visits that came with it. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Joey said quietly before closing the door.
****
Chris hummed quietly as he grabbed the bottle from the counter and tucked it into the handled basket. He grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and tucked those in, then arranged the glittery green cloth carefully around the fragile contents. Satisfied nothing was going to spill, fall out or break, he zipped his coat up to his chin, picked up the basket and began the short walk to Joey's.
Today, instead of baking, Chris came with homemade cider. He figured he'd waited until late enough in the day that Joey probably thought he was off the hook. Little did he know, Chris chuckled.
He raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open first. He was glad, actually, since the wind was blowing hard and it was bitter cold out.
Joey laughed and shook his head. "You really are insane, you know that?"
Chris sniffled dramatically. "I've been told that once or twice."
"You nut, get in here." Joey turned and walked into the living room. As usual, a fire crackled in the fireplace.
Chris tugged off his coat and hung it on a hook in the hall. Hat and mittens were piled on the table and he untied and toed his boots off before joining Joey. The sofa looked soft and inviting and Chris sank into it when he sat down.
Joey eyed the basket expectantly. "What did you bring tonight?" he asked as curiosity finally got the better of him.
Chris put the basket on the coffee table in front of them and pulled the material out of the way. "Homemade cider," he answered as he put the bottle and glasses on the table. He poured the golden juice into each glass and handed one to Joey. When Joey's fingers brushed lightly over his, Chris quickly convinced himself it was an accident.
Joey watched him over the edge of the glass as he took a drink. "Rum too? What are you up to?" he teased.
Chris feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Several minutes went by with pops from the fire as the only sound. The heat felt good to Chris and he could almost feel the tip of his nose again.
"How many more days are you going to do this?" Joey asked finally.
Chris thought a moment. "How many nights until Christmas Eve?" He looked around the room. “Dude, you need a Christmas tree.”
****
Christmas Eve had finally arrived and Chris was putting together the last day, the 12th day of baking. Tonight, it was salmon puffs and white wine. He arranged the puffs carefully on the plate, grabbed the wine around the narrow bottle neck and carefully held two glasses in his fingers - and then walked over to Joey’s for the 12th day in a row. 12 days since he’d started this insanity. 12 days and over the course of those days, Joey had smiled again, laughed a little and held real conversations instead of just grunting answers and closing the door in his face. It had to be progress, right? Of course it was.
The sun had set not long ago and while the day had been unusually warm, the night had cooled quickly. Chris could feel his cheeks tingling as he walked the short distance. He knocked quickly. It was only a moment until Joey answered, smile spread across his face and his eyes twinkling merrily. He looked like he hadn’t been awake for long �" his hair was tousled, shirt rumpled and jeans low on his hips, but he was smiling and Chris hadn’t even fed him yet. Chris could handle that.
Without waiting, Chris made himself at home and set the plate of pastries on the coffee table, then poured two glasses of wine. He handed one to Joey and sipped, then took the fork that Joey offered him and began to eat.
It was when he realized that Joey wasn’t eating that he stopped. “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
Joey smiled again and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He turned sideways on the sofa, foot tucked up in front of him. “Nothing. That’s just it. Thank you.”
Chris looked at him in confusion. “What for?”
“All of this. I was… a bear and you put up with me. Most people would have given up. You didn’t. Thank you.”
Chris gulped some wine before answering. “Um. You’re welcome.” He looked around the room. “Hey! You put up a tree!” he said suddenly, bouncing up from the couch and walking over to it. All of the decorations were hand-blown glass. They were beautiful the way the fire light danced off them, but Chris didn’t dare to touch.
“There’s one other thing,” Joey continued as he slowly walked over to where Chris stood.
“Yeah?” Chris watched Joey curiously as he leaned in and gently brushed his lips over Chris’s and then blinked at him in confusion.
“You’re standing under the mistletoe,” Joey chuckled and pointed to the sprig that hung from the beam in the ceiling.
// fini //
His neighbor across the street had died a few weeks before and Chris knew through the flourishing town grapevine that this was her nephew. Whether he was going to stay in town or pack up and sell the house remained the mystery of the week. Chris watched as the other man shoveled the walk until the cold got the better of him, and then went back inside.
As Chris was heating cocoa, an idea occurred to him and he grabbed a second mug from the shelf, and then filled them both. He shrugged into his heavy coat, pulled a warm knit hat low on his head and grabbed the steaming mugs.
"You don't have to shovel everything at once, you know," Chris said a few minutes later. He held out one of the mugs in greeting.
The other man took the mug and sipped it cautiously. "Thanks."
"Welcome. I'm Chris. The bakery across the street is mine."
"Joey. You always do this? Take strangers mugs of cocoa?"
Chris toed at the snow with his boot. "Nah, just some of ‘em."
Joey finished off the mug and held it out to Chris. "Thanks. I'll see you around," Joey said before he turned around and picked up the shovel again.
It was pretty clear to Chris that he was being dismissed. He shrugged and started back to his cottage. The rest of the afternoon, he kept going over the encounter in his head. He knew that his new neighbor was mourning. Mrs. Ianazzi had raised him almost since birth and had been the only parent Joey had ever known. All this had been before Chris's time. He'd only been in town for a few years, but once again the town grapevine came through for him.
Later in the week, Chris had almost pushed the encounter to the back of his mind. Main Street had finally been decorated for the holidays and he was walking slowly down the sidewalk as he stared at the displays in the shop windows. Mrs. Müller always had the most amazing display and this year was no exception. Chris stared at the beautiful decorations as he slowly stepped sideways, taking it all in a little bit at a time.
Until he bumped into something solid and not moving. "Oomph!" Chris looked up and his eyes widened in surprise. "Joey! I'm sorry, man. How ya doing?"
Chris watched Joey's eyes cloud and the muscle in his jaw twitch and figured he wasn't going to get an answer. And he was right, he was saddened to see, as Joey just nodded his response and continued down the sidewalk. He watched Joey's retreating back and then shrugged the encounter off as he walked the rest of the way to Nana Kyle's diner for lunch.
As always, the waitresses were bustling about busily and the tables were mostly filled when Chris walked in. His companion waved to him from the corner table and Chris nodded in acknowledgement then headed over.
"How you doin, babe?" Chris asked as he kissed his friend's temple before sitting down. He pushed the menu to the side. He had it memorized and already knew what he'd be ordering. Every Thursday for the last four years, he and Howie had occupied the same table and had the same meal. Ordering was just a formality. One day, he’d confuse everyone and order something different, but not today.
Howie smiled and behind his glasses his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'm good." He paused to sip his coffee. "Have you met Mrs. Iannazi's nephew yet?"
Chris snorted. "If you could call it that." And then he described to Howie the two times they'd met. "So, yes, we've met, but he's been surly as Hell," he finished.
"Chris, the only family he's ever known just died and it's right before Christmas. You're lucky surly is all he's being."
Chris made face as he considered Howie's words. Howie winced. "Whatever you're thinking Chris, don't. Just - I know you when you start plotting. Don't do it."
Chris put on his most innocent expression. "Who says I'm plotting anything?"
•••••
The following morning, Chris woke early like he always did. He was in a good mood and set about filling his daily orders - bread and rolls for Nana Kyle, sweets for the school. He hummed Christmas carols as he moved quickly around his kitchen. He thought about his conversation with Howie from the day before and told himself he wasn't up to anything. He was just making a new neighbor feel welcome. He hoped.
Hours later, he had adjusted his oven for the last time. He pulled out all of the necessary ingredients and started putting everything together. By the time he was done, his kitchen smelled deliciously of apples and cinnamon. Whistling, he grabbed a plain white platter and lifted the pastry out of the baking pan and onto the platter before scurrying across the way to Joey's front door. Balancing the plate in one hand, he knocked quickly.
When the door swung inward, Joey stood just inside, squinting in the bright light. "Chris? What are you doing here?"
Chris held up the plate. "I brought you a house warming gift," he explained.
Joey looked down at the plate quickly then back at Chris. "House warming gift," he echoed.
"You have something against apples?" Chris teased.
Joey blinked up at him. "Huh? No, not a thing."
"Then take the plate, Joey," Chris urged.
Joey took the plate, grumbled terse thanks and closed the door.
"Well," Chris said as he started back across the street. "That went well."
•••••
Chris tucked the phone beneath his chin and moved smoothly around his kitchen. He reached deep into the refrigerator and pulled out two jars of jelly, staring at the labels. "Raspberry or strawberry?" he asked into the phone.
Howie's laugh filled his ear. "Raspberry. So you're still going to keep this up?"
Chris moved back to refrigerator and took out a bowl of whipped cream and set it out on the counter next to a tray of small, hollow cakes. "Are you kidding? I'm more determined now than ever."
Carefully, Chris filled a few of the cakes with the cream slowly dribbling off the tip of a spoon, and then moved on to filling the remainder with the raspberry jelly. They talked for a few more minutes before saying goodbye.
Without the phone, it didn’t take long until Chris had enough of the small cakes. Today, Chris chose a large white platter with a scalloped edge and gold "lace" brushed delicately on. It was snowing lightly, so Chris shrugged into his jacket, pulled a thick knitted hat low on his head and grabbed the plate before heading out the door.
By the time he reached Joey's door, his teeth were chattering and Chris hoped he'd worn Joey down enough that he'd be allowed in so he could warm up. He knocked quickly and was relieved when the door opened immediately. He was even more relieved when Joey stepped aside so he could come in.
"More baking?" Joey asked quietly. He didn't check to make sure Chris was following, just went into the small living room where a fire burned warmly in the fireplace.
Chris followed him in before handing the platter over. Today, Chris noticed with a small amount of pleasure and relief, Joey seemed a little more relaxed. And oh! Was that a hint of a smile he saw?
"Probably want to either eat those or put them in the fridge fairly quickly," Chris advised. "There's jelly n' whipped cream in 'em," he continued when Joey raised one eye brow at him.
Joey picked one up, turning it around as he studied it. "Which is which?"
Chris grinned. Gotcha. "The ones with red piping are filled with homemade raspberry jelly."
"My favorite." Joey grinned back and popped one of the small cakes into his mouth.
"I know," was all Chris answered with, but he caught the very subtle softening in Joey's expression before he quickly hid it.
Joey left the room a moment, taking the platter with him. When he returned, he held the platter from yesterday, washed and shining brightly and held it out to Chris. “Figured you might need this back,” he explained.
Chris had more platters and serving dishes than he would ever be able to use, but he took it anyway. “Thanks.”
*****
All in all, Chris reflected as he bundled up and trudged over two mornings later, the daily baking was going pretty well. He’d gotten a handful of real smiles from Joey and there was even some semblance of conversation. Chris took a moment to give himself a mental pat on the back. Nice work. Joey might have a bit of Christmas spirit yet, in spite of himself.
However, when Chris knocked on the door and a bleary eyed Joey answered, hair sticking up randomly, plaid flannel pants hung precariously on his hips, Chris wasn’t quite so sure of himself.
“Chris?” Joey asked through a yawn. “It’s seven in the morning, what are you doing here?”
Chris held up a basket of steaming muffins and a butter knife graced with a poinsettia on the handle. “I brought breakfast,” and even to his own ears, it sounded lame. What had he been thinking? Coming over this early in the morning? So really, it should have come as no surprise that Joey grumbled something about coming back at a decent time before shutting the door firmly in Chris’s face.
Except it was a surprise and Chris stood there even after he’d heard the lock click back into place, staring at the gold door knocker. He had just convinced himself that Joey had gone back to bed and turned to leave when the door opened again. Joey filled the opening, a dark green flannel robe pulled around him.
“You still here?” Joey asked as he knotted the robe. “You do realize that seven is a bit indecent for most people, right?” Joey asked. “I should have gone back to bed.” He stepped aside and Chris came in and closed the door behind him.
“But you didn’t,” Chris pointed out helpfully.
“No. Don’t make me regret it.”
Chris held up the muffins as a peace offering and smiled, but only a little. “They’re still warm.”
Joey sighed and smiled in return. “Ok ok. Let’s go eat them, then.”
A short time later, they were seated in the sunlit dining room, plates in front of them littered with muffin crumbs. The nearly empty basket was on the table between them and Chris was debating another one or heading home to rethink the whole strategy. Maybe Joey didn’t want Christmas spirit. Maybe Joey was happy being a lonely grump. Maybe …
“So, this baking thing. How did you get started?” Joey asked as he took another muffin from the basket. The last one, Chris noted with a small smile.
Chris pulled the empty basket over and folded the bread cover into it. “Your aunt. My mom was dying, my dad was closing himself off to basically everyone. Your aunt called me over one day and showed me how to make petit fours and I was hooked.”
Joey took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. Chris could see the wheels grinding. “That’s how you knew which my favorite was. She told you.”
Chris nodded. “Right. It was the only kind we ever made.” And now, Chris decided, was a good time to excuse himself. They’d had breakfast and Joey talked a little. Chris decided he’d take that little bit of progress and run before something happened to spoil it.
So as he walked down the hallway towards the front door again, Joey following closely behind him, he was already planning what he would bring by tomorrow. Chris pulled open the door and stepped out.
The door was half closed when Joey caught it and asked, “You’re coming back again tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Chris nodded, not daring to turn around and see the look on Joey’s face. He was suddenly surprised at how much he’d come to enjoy the daily baking for Joey and the visits that came with it. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Joey said quietly before closing the door.
****
Chris hummed quietly as he grabbed the bottle from the counter and tucked it into the handled basket. He grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and tucked those in, then arranged the glittery green cloth carefully around the fragile contents. Satisfied nothing was going to spill, fall out or break, he zipped his coat up to his chin, picked up the basket and began the short walk to Joey's.
Today, instead of baking, Chris came with homemade cider. He figured he'd waited until late enough in the day that Joey probably thought he was off the hook. Little did he know, Chris chuckled.
He raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open first. He was glad, actually, since the wind was blowing hard and it was bitter cold out.
Joey laughed and shook his head. "You really are insane, you know that?"
Chris sniffled dramatically. "I've been told that once or twice."
"You nut, get in here." Joey turned and walked into the living room. As usual, a fire crackled in the fireplace.
Chris tugged off his coat and hung it on a hook in the hall. Hat and mittens were piled on the table and he untied and toed his boots off before joining Joey. The sofa looked soft and inviting and Chris sank into it when he sat down.
Joey eyed the basket expectantly. "What did you bring tonight?" he asked as curiosity finally got the better of him.
Chris put the basket on the coffee table in front of them and pulled the material out of the way. "Homemade cider," he answered as he put the bottle and glasses on the table. He poured the golden juice into each glass and handed one to Joey. When Joey's fingers brushed lightly over his, Chris quickly convinced himself it was an accident.
Joey watched him over the edge of the glass as he took a drink. "Rum too? What are you up to?" he teased.
Chris feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Several minutes went by with pops from the fire as the only sound. The heat felt good to Chris and he could almost feel the tip of his nose again.
"How many more days are you going to do this?" Joey asked finally.
Chris thought a moment. "How many nights until Christmas Eve?" He looked around the room. “Dude, you need a Christmas tree.”
****
Christmas Eve had finally arrived and Chris was putting together the last day, the 12th day of baking. Tonight, it was salmon puffs and white wine. He arranged the puffs carefully on the plate, grabbed the wine around the narrow bottle neck and carefully held two glasses in his fingers - and then walked over to Joey’s for the 12th day in a row. 12 days since he’d started this insanity. 12 days and over the course of those days, Joey had smiled again, laughed a little and held real conversations instead of just grunting answers and closing the door in his face. It had to be progress, right? Of course it was.
The sun had set not long ago and while the day had been unusually warm, the night had cooled quickly. Chris could feel his cheeks tingling as he walked the short distance. He knocked quickly. It was only a moment until Joey answered, smile spread across his face and his eyes twinkling merrily. He looked like he hadn’t been awake for long �" his hair was tousled, shirt rumpled and jeans low on his hips, but he was smiling and Chris hadn’t even fed him yet. Chris could handle that.
Without waiting, Chris made himself at home and set the plate of pastries on the coffee table, then poured two glasses of wine. He handed one to Joey and sipped, then took the fork that Joey offered him and began to eat.
It was when he realized that Joey wasn’t eating that he stopped. “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
Joey smiled again and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He turned sideways on the sofa, foot tucked up in front of him. “Nothing. That’s just it. Thank you.”
Chris looked at him in confusion. “What for?”
“All of this. I was… a bear and you put up with me. Most people would have given up. You didn’t. Thank you.”
Chris gulped some wine before answering. “Um. You’re welcome.” He looked around the room. “Hey! You put up a tree!” he said suddenly, bouncing up from the couch and walking over to it. All of the decorations were hand-blown glass. They were beautiful the way the fire light danced off them, but Chris didn’t dare to touch.
“There’s one other thing,” Joey continued as he slowly walked over to where Chris stood.
“Yeah?” Chris watched Joey curiously as he leaned in and gently brushed his lips over Chris’s and then blinked at him in confusion.
“You’re standing under the mistletoe,” Joey chuckled and pointed to the sprig that hung from the beam in the ceiling.
// fini //
