17. Dean

Dean

Baking Christmas cookies with Art is so much better than baking alone. He's very precise in following the recipe, and I love bumping into him in the kitchen. Every time one of his tentacles reaches over to rest along my back or just lightly touch my arm, I feel a burst of happiness.

Now that I've thought of the idea of going away with Art, I can't wait to plan the trip. He's stayed over at my place, and I've stayed over at his, and I know we'll have a fantastic time on a vacation together.

Art is just fun to be with—he makes me laugh, he appreciates me, and he makes me feel special. And, of course, there's the sex, which is amazing. But just hanging out with Art is pretty amazing too. I feel like I just get him and he gets me. He really listens, not like most people, who seem like they're just waiting to talk about themselves or solve your problems for you. And he shares so much of himself in return, like the photos of his parents. Art is also brilliant, but he makes me feel smart too. I love it when he explains something to me, but I also love that he trusts me enough to ask me questions.

If Frank wasn't such an asshole, I would send him flowers for making sure we spent more time together. I've known Art for ages as a coworker, but dating him… I don't think I've ever been happier.

Art is quickly becoming an integral part of my life. I can picture myself living with him, working with him, spending holidays and vacations with him…

I see Art in my future, and it hits me that maybe I'm in love with him.

I stop in the middle of taking cookies off the pan, and Art looks over, noticing that I stopped. "This song seems to distress you, Dean Miller. Would you like me to change it?"

I pay attention for the first time to what's playing—it's "Baby It's Cold Outside." I can't help the laugh that escapes me, and I start taking cookies off the tray again.

"Nah, I just had a thought. This song is sort of a holiday classic, and I promise it isn't as creepy as it sounds," I say.

Art looks dubious. "Dean Miller, the male is trying to get the female to drink and smoke more so she cannot leave and so that her judgment is impaired. How is that not creepy?"

I put the tray in the sink after I remove the last cookie, thinking about the lyrics. "You're right, but I don't think they meant it to sound like that. They've actually remade the song to make it less… creepy."

Art nods his head approvingly and then starts washing the rest of the dishes with his hands and his tentacles. I start thinking about the things those tentacles can do, but our office orgasms weren't that long ago, and we do have to get back to decorate the tree.

I want to capture this moment, though, so I hold out my phone and lean in to kiss Art, snapping a picture. I look at the phone and can't help a chuckle. Art leans over to check the picture, too. In the photo one of his tentacles is hovering behind me with soap suds on it, and it looks like it's about to squeeze my ass.

"I controlled my tentacle for your comfort, Dean Miller. I did not think you would enjoy soggy pants," he says.

"Art, for you I'd manage with wet pants," I laugh. I send the picture off to my mom, even though Art looks appalled when he sees who I'm sending it to.

"Don't worry. She's going to think it's fantastic," I reassure him as he finishes up the dishes and wipes his hands and tentacles on a dish towel.

Sure enough, barely a minute passes before her reply comes back—"Awww, so cute!!!" with about twelve heart eye emojis, kissy faces, laughing faces, and cookie emojis.

I show him before I put my phone away, asking Art, "Are you ready to head back to the office? Do you need anything else to eat?" We'd nibbled on food—I always kept some of Art's favorite seafood in the apartment in case he was over, but we hadn't really done a sit-down lunch.

Art looks at the time. "I have had sufficient sustenance until dinner time. Have you, Dean Miller? If so, it is time to go decorate the tree. It seems we will have to wait until later to lower our cortisol levels."

I smile, grabbing Art's face again and giving him a kiss. We put our coats and hats back on, and Art grabs the cookies with his tentacles so we can hold hands when we leave my apartment. Art has reminded me how much I love Christmas, and I can't wait to share another tradition with him.

Most of the decorating crew is already hard at work in the large conference room that holds the holiday party, and the sound of Christmas carols, talking, and laughing fills the air. Hazel bounds over to us—she's decked out in a green pointy hat and pointy shoes, but the pointy ears are all hers. She's a wood nymph, and she's usually in charge of the decorating. Despite not celebrating Christmas herself, she loves the festivity of the holiday. In fact, a lot of the folks that decorate aren't human. I think it's just a good excuse for the cheery employees to have a little fun.

"Dean! Glad you could make it! And you brought a friend!" she cries out.

"I did. He's my boyfriend, actually, and he works with me in the lab. Hazel, this is Art. Art, this is Hazel," I introduce.

"Lovely to meet you! You're going to come in very handy!" she beams.

Then she grabs Art by the arm and drags him off toward the tree. He has a moment to look back at me, slightly panicked, so I smile reassuringly and follow them.

"Gina, a little higher, please!" Hazel calls out to a sprite who's hanging up garland. She flutters higher, and a bigfoot named Roger hands her some tape.

A few fae are setting up the tables that will hold the food and drinks, and Hazel makes a tsk sound before she lets Art's arm go and takes the cookies from him. "I've told them that they simply cannot be in charge of food at a public party with humans. Let me go check on them. You guys can handle the tree, right? Boxes of decorations are over there!" she points, and then she's off, mumbling to herself as she heads toward the fae.

Art looks down at the boxes, which look like they're vomiting Christmas. There's garland and lights and ornaments all thrown in together, and I silently curse not taking down the decorations myself last year.

"This does not look well organized, Dean Miller," Art states.

"Nope. I should have known better than to leave putting the decorations away to a bunch of pixies last year," I sigh. "It's really ok if you'd rather work in the lab than help me with this, Art," I say, feeling a little overwhelmed by the mess for a moment. I wanted this to be fun, not a tedious task.

Art's tentacles reach out and rest along my back. "I would like to help. This mess is too big for one person. Besides, I would enjoy spending time with you more than working." He shrugs, as if that isn't a big deal, but I know him well enough to be flattered.

A brownie wanders over to help us, and between the three of us, we manage to unpack the boxes and untangle the mess.

Art's hands and tentacles are invaluable, and getting the garland and lights up probably takes half the time it did last year. Lots of folks meander over to chat and help, and Art seems a little shocked that everyone keeps talking to him. We chat about the different jobs we do, local restaurants, and even the best cafeteria food.

When Art points out that some of the hanging decorations are crooked, he gets dragged over to help fix it. He ends up in an intense discussion with a ningen on the best places to get fish nearby, and I continue hanging ornaments, feeling pleased by how well Art is getting along with everyone. He really has gotten more comfortable with others over the past weeks. I don't think it's anything I've said, just that he's had a little more practice.

Or maybe it's because I've managed to lower his cortisol levels.

By the time he comes back, I can tell he's feeling friendly with these folks, and we joke as we continue to decorate. I take my time leaning over to hang a few ornaments on the bottom of the tree, because I love teasing Art and letting him ogle me. When I turn around, he's standing there staring, an ornament on each tentacle and in each hand, all of them stretched out toward me. He kinda looks like a Christmas tree all on his own.

I laugh, and I pull out my phone for a quick picture before I walk over and hug him.

"Dean Miller, I would like to return your hug, but I am afraid I will crush the ornaments," he murmurs.

"That's ok." I kiss him lightly and grab a glass snowflake off his tentacle. "I just couldn't resist. Although maybe I shouldn't kiss you in a room full of coworkers?" I ask, wondering how Art feels about PDA at work. After all, usually it is just Art and I in the lab.

"We are off work hours," Art reminds me. "And if the vampires can be drunk on mulled wine blood, I do not think anyone will find fault with a kiss."

I look over, and sure enough, a group of vampires are splayed out on chairs with wine cups in front of them, and I think the table decorations they're working on are starting to look decidedly messier.

I smile as I hug Art again. "Thank you so much for decorating with me, Art. I can't wait until I get to show you off at the holiday party tomorrow night."

Art blushes a bit, which is adorable, and I turn around to reach up and hang an ornament, winking at him over my shoulder. We should get done tonight with plenty of time to lower our cortisol levels, and despite our afternoon quickie in the lab, I can't get enough of my cephalopod.