Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

C hris was eager for the day to be over. They only had four more days until Christmas Eve, and he had to admit, being Santa was starting to grate. The kids were more hyped up and prone to tantrums, the parents’ patience was running thin, and he was both eager to be done with it and worried because what did he do for money once his last paycheck was deposited just after New Year’s? He had enough money to continue to pay his share of the rent and groceries until about June, thanks to Luke refusing to take more than a hundred a month as rent. So really, that gave him six months to find something else. Surely he could at least pick up some day-laborer type jobs. Even if he only worked a few days at a time, it could tide him over.

Mrs. Pelletier had already told him that they’d love to have him back as Santa next year, so he knew that he’d at least have a couple months of work then. And now that he had a home address he could use, he might actually be able to apply for more things.

The last kid, with the stickiest fingers ever, climbed onto his knee and promptly grabbed hold of Chris’s beard. He grabbed hold of the kid’s hands before the kid could actually yank it off, but the kid’s fingers were stuck on the hairs of the beard itself.

“Uh, Jolly Elf, Santa needs some help.” He was trying not to panic.

Luke came over right away, eyes widening as he saw the problem. He grabbed one of the kid’s hands and looked at how it was stuck to the beard hair. He tried to tug, but the kid cried out. Luke sighed. “I think we’re going to need the scissors.”

Chris winced. There were a couple of beards, but he didn’t know if he was going to be responsible for replacing this one. Surely not. It had to be an occupational hazard, and one that the store covered.

“Is this going to take long?” the boy’s mother asked, sounding irritated.

“He’s stuck to the beard, ma’am,” Luke told her.

“Well, unstick him!”

Luke gave Chris a look. “I’ll get the scissors from Tasia.”

The mother came over and grabbed his beard in one hand and her boy’s hand in the other and started trying to yank them apart. Chris pressed a hand against his face to keep her from pulling it off his face. The kid was already overstimulated, oversurgared, and hyped up. The last thing he needed was for Santa’s beard to come flying off.

“Excuse me,” Luke said firmly. His usual pleasant demeanor absent. “If you’d let me get in there, I’ll get your son loose.”

She backed off—thank god—and Luke moved in, wincing as he carefully cut the beard at an inch or so away from the kid’s hands. The kid looked at his hands and started wailing. Luke looked from the hairy palms to Chris and then away, clearly working hard to keep from laughing. Chris just growled, and the boy’s mother started screaming about how they’d ruined her son’s Santa experience.

Tasia packed her things up as quickly as she could, grabbed all her paperwork, and high-tailed it toward the break room in the back. Luke meanwhile was trying to placate the woman.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just that his fingers were sticky from candy or something. A bit of soap and warm water should have him cleaned up in no time.”

“And if it doesn’t, I’m suing the two of you and this store. You’ll never work again!”

“Just try the soap and water,” Luke insisted.

“I am writing a nasty yelp review,” she informed them before grabbing her son’s arm and yanking him off toward the washrooms.

“And Merry Christmas to you too!” Luke called after her. He turned back to Chris and rolled his eyes. “That’s all we’ll say until we’re well out of earshot,” he muttered quietly.

Chris followed Luke into the back.

“Oh my god!” Tasia said as soon as they got there. “Can you believe her? I’m sorry I ran off, but I just couldn’t deal.”

“It’s okay,” Luke patted her arm. “The more people that were there, the more people she would have had to scream at. Jesus. What a brat. And I’m not talking about the kid.”

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

“Yep, we’ll be here.”

Chris grunted his agreement. He took off the beard, looking at it mournfully. It was definitely toast.

“They’re not going to expect me to pay for the replacement, are they?”

“They better not, let’s go get out of our outfits.”

Before they got to the locker room, the break room door opened and Mrs. Pelletier came in, all decked out in her winter gear.

“I was almost gone when I heard the commotion. What the hell, Luke?”

“Some brat with sticky fingers got them stuck in Santa’s beard and his mother decided it was our fault. We got him unstuck without spilling the beans that Chris wasn’t really Santa, but it came at the cost of the beard. I had to cut the kid out of it.”

Chris handed over the mangled beard.

“Damn it, these things are expensive. This is why I’ve never had kids. Fucking entitled parents and their brats.” She snapped her mouth closed, maybe realizing she’d said that out loud. “Do me a favor and clock in a half hour early tomorrow—both of you—I want incident reports on my desk before you go out there again. Ass coverage,” she added.

“Yes, ma’am,” he and Luke said together.

“Good deal. You’ve still got two more beards, right?”

“I do.”

“Good. Don’t let them get ruined. We can’t get a replacement for this one until it’s too late.” Then she yanked her gloves on and left.

“Wow. That was something,” Luke said.

Chris snorted. It was something all right. At least they weren’t being held responsible for the damaged property.

“And did you hear the potty mouth on Mrs. Pelletier? I didn’t know she had that in her. She always comes off so prim and proper.” Luke yanked his elf ears off, sighing as he always did and rubbing his poor red ears. “I tell you what, though, I think once we’re home and warm and have hot chocolates and popcorn, this is going to be the funniest thing ever.”

He snorted again. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Yeah, but we get to try out the new couch when we get home!” Luke’s bouncing was interfering with his stripping, and he calmed down so he could get out of his elf costume and into his street clothes.

Chris made short work out of getting changed. He had to admit he was eager to get home, too. The couch had arrived shortly before they’d had to leave for work, and they’d only had enough time to get it positioned where they wanted it before they’d had to go. He couldn’t wait to be able to lie flat on it.

They slipped out the back, and Mr. Oldelsson was just closing up his apple cider cart. “You boys want a cup before I drain and wash the carafe?”

“Oh, yes, please!” Luke bounced over, digging in his pocket for his wallet.

Mr. Oldelsson waved his hand. “I’m going to throw it out anyway. You’re doing me a favor because I hate wasting it.” He poured them each a large cupful, the steam rising enticingly from the top, smelling of apples and cinnamon. “The Missus made mandelbrod,” he told them, offering them a little baggie.

“Wow. Thank you!” Luke grabbed the bag and gave the old man a hug. “Happy Holidays!”

Chuckling, Mr. Oldelsson waved them off and continued closing up his stall.

“Hot apple cider and cookies. The universe has set the karmic balance back to right.”

Chris supposed Luke might be right. Afterall, he’d been fucking grumpy after the beard grabbing and sticking incident, and now he had free hot cider and homemade cookies, and a new couch/bed to enjoy them on.

They didn’t say anything as they made their way home. The last few blocks were always darn cold; the buildings made quite the wind tunnel and said wind was frigid. But then they were home and Luke bounced up the stairs ahead of him. Even though it was covered, Chris knew that was a nice ass in front of him. Luke was a good-looking guy.

Once they were in and had shed their winter gear, they went to the couch and sat.

“Oh my god, this is even more comfortable than I remembered.”

Chris remembered it being damned comfortable, although he hadn’t formed too much of an opinion when they’d bought it. All he’d really cared about was that it had a hidden bed that pulled out to something he could actually lie in properly, and that Luke liked it.

Grinning, Luke took a cautious sip of his cider. Chris didn’t bother with caution. He was pretty sure the cold night had more than cooled the drink. Sure enough, it was lukewarm at best.

“Should we microwave it?” Luke asked after making a face. “I mean it’s okay, but it would be better hot.”

He nodded, and Luke bounced up, grabbing his cup from him and heading for the kitchen. Chris watched as he poured their drinks into proper mugs, then stuck those in the microwave and turned it on.

“You want popcorn as well as cookies?” Luke asked, and Chris pondered that. Supper had been an orange and a half a turkey sandwich more than five hours ago.

Only a few days ago, that and the cookies and cider he had now would have seemed like the height of luxury and more than enough to keep his stomach from snarling too badly. Being at Luke’s had made him soft.

“Yeah, I’m kind of peckish too,” Luke noted when he didn’t reply. “Popcorn or Eggos… Oh, there’s leftover breakfast sausages, too.”

The microwave beeped, and Luke took out their cider, then stuck in the plate of leftover sausages. He stuck two Eggos into the toaster, then brought the cider over and set the mugs on the coffee table next to the little bag of cookies. Then he bounced back into the kitchen.

“Syrup on the waffles?”

“Please.”

“Butter?”

“Sure, why not?” He was definitely getting spoiled.

In a few minutes, Luke was back on the couch next to him, both of them with plates containing a butter-and-syrup-covered Eggo and one and a half sausages. As an impromptu after work snack, it was perfect. So was the companionship.

He and Luke were settling in well together. Luke was friendly, generous, and good company, even if he did talk a lot. Like a lot a lot. That was okay, though, because it meant Chris wasn’t expected to talk a lot too.

“Movie?” Luke asked, already turning the big TV on.

Chris nodded and had a bite of his Eggo. Warm and sweet, it didn’t matter that it was nothing like a real waffle. Maybe he’d offer to make some real ones for Christmas morning. Unless Luke didn’t have a waffle maker. Come to think of it, he’d walked by a display of the things on discount in the kitchen store window at the other end of the mall a couple times this week when he’d been walking during his break.

“Do you have a waffle maker?” he asked.

“Nope. I don’t have too many kitchen appliances,” Luke admitted.

“Good thing Eggos take a toaster.” And now he knew what to get Luke for Christmas.

“Yep. It’s a Wonderful Life?” Luke asked, already cueing the movie up.

Chris managed not to roll his eyes, he thought. But he hadn’t seen that one since he was a kid, and he knew the Christmas movies made Luke happy, so he nodded.

They ate their breakfasty snack and had their cider and mandelbrod cookies, and he dozed off partway through the movie.

When he woke up, Luke was leaning against him, snoring softly, the TV cycling through suggestions of what they could watch next. He leaned over to grab the remote to turn the TV off and Luke snorted and straightened.

“Huh? Oh. Wow, I fell asleep. Sorry.”

“I did too.”

“Oh, well that’s okay then.” Stretching, Luke checked his watch. “I guess I should go to bed. You want help pulling your mattress out?”

“I got it.”

“Cool!” Luke bounced up, despite having just been asleep, and went to the dryer. He pulled the new sheets out of it, and brought them over.

Chris’s blankets were still folded up on the chair like usual.

“Well, enjoy your new—actual—bed.” Luke leaned up and kissed the side of his mouth, giving him an almost shy smile before scooting off to his room.

Chris touched his face where Luke had kissed him. It had been warm and gentle and nice. And unexpected. But not unwelcome.

He pulled the cushions off the couch and grabbed the handle, tugged the bed up and out. Then he made it up and settled in with a groan. It was the first time he’d slept on an actual bed in longer than he’d like to admit.

Living with Luke was definitely spoiling him. But he’d decided he was going to accept it until he didn’t have it anymore.