by Piper Vaughn
It would have to be.
Looking over at Wes, Garnet straightened his shoulders. Wes sat cross-legged, leaning back against the couch, a cup of hot tea cradled in his palms. His nose was still a little red from the cold, and his dark brown hair was mussed from his hat. A small, dressed Christmas tree stood in the corner between Wes and the fireplace. There were no presents beneath it, aside from a large, unopened container of Milk-Bone dog treats.
The sight of that lonely tree and the lack of any presents for Wes underneath saddened Garnet to the point that heat prickled behind his eyes and pressure built in his sinuses. He wanted to give Wes his gift, but suddenly it didn't seem anywhere near adequate enough to convey just how much Wes meant to him. He'd wanted to make this a happy Christmas for Wes. Instead, he'd only made himself a burden.
How had he honestly expected to show up at Wes's door and be welcomed with opened arms? Hindsight showed him how ridiculous his plan had been from the start. He felt he knew Wes after watching him all these years, but Wes didn't know Garnet from anyone. Why hadn't he considered how his actions might be construed by Wes, how bizarre and invasive it might all seem? And, still, Wes hadn't forced him to leave after Garnet's confession. He'd rescued Garnet last night and spent two hours outside in the snow and bitter cold that morning trying to see if Garnet's sleigh was salvageable. He'd done this for someone who'd admitted to spying on him and who was essentially a stranger, yet Garnet knew Wes would do it again, no questions asked. Wes was simply that sort of man—the type who put others before himself.
Garnet had nothing to offer Wes. What value was an elf who had no skills to speak of besides building toys? And lately, he'd even failed at that. His preoccupation and longing for Wes had been seeping into his work, causing all sorts of mishaps. Baby dolls wailed instead of laughed. Toy dogs barked Wes's name. Music players repeated the same song—"The Workin' Elf Blues."
He'd driven his supervisor to distraction with all of the repair tickets that had to be put in to fix his mistakes.
It was a mess.
But the day wasn't over yet. He could still make this Christmas special. He might not have any magic aside from his healing this far from the North Pole, but maybe, for the first time in his life, he could pull off a miracle all on his own.
*~*~*
Wes woke suddenly, with a strange sense of disorientation and déjà vu from the night before. Last thing he remembered was sitting in front of the fire, Garnet beside him. He must've fallen asleep. Somehow his tea had ended up on the coffee table, thankfully unspilled.
Through the windows all he could see was swirling snow and inky blackness. So much for his plans to make a big holiday meal. He'd intended on putting the turkey in the oven after they returned from their outing to the crash site that morning. The plan had been to warm up for a few minutes before getting to work. Now, it looked like he'd be resorting to garlic bread and Christmas spaghetti. Ah, well.
But then, as he got to his feet and rubbed sleep from his eyes, he caught the scent of roasting meat beneath the smell of wood from the fire. There was clanging coming from behind him, too, and the dogs were nowhere to be seen—which meant, if he wasn't hallucinating, there was probably an elf making dinner in his kitchen.
Wes stifled a yawn and followed the enticing scent to where Garnet stood in front of the stove, stirring something with his back to Wes. The kitchen was a bit of a disaster, with bowls and utensils scattered across the countertop, and unless Wes was mistaken, Garnet had flour in his auburn hair, but something about the sight made warmth blossom in Wes's chest. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked for him. Microwaving frozen meals had been the extent of his last boyfriend's culinary talents.
"Smells delicious," he said.
Garnet jumped about a foot and spun to face him, splattering what looked like gravy from the spoon he still held. "Oh, juniper, you scared the tinsel out of me!"
Wes couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you." He heard the jingle of the tags on his dogs' collars and looked down to see them eagerly licking up the gravy Garnet had spilled. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you either. These guys been any trouble?"
Garnet shook his head. "Not at all. I let them out for a while when Micah and that big one scratched at the back door, but they came right back in."
"Thanks. They're usually really good about that." Wes rounded the breakfast bar and peered at the stove. "What are you making?"
"Well, I saw you had a turkey thawing and all the ingredients for stuffing and green bean casserole. I decided it was the least I could do to let you rest while I cooked." Garnet smiled up at Wes with pink-tinged cheeks. "I hope you don't mind?"
Wes shook his head. "Of course not." Sure, he experienced another wave of surrealism at the fact that an actual Christmas elf was cooking him dinner, but Wes was strangely at ease with the entire situation. "Anything I can do to help?"
Garnet waved a dismissive hand. "Thank you, but there's no need. I've got it covered."
"If you're sure…"
"Completely. Everything will be ready soon. Why don't you go have a shower?"
"Okay." Bemused, Wes let himself be shooed from his own kitchen. He might have put up more of a fight, but grogginess lingered in his head, and a hot shower sounded like the perfect solution to clear away the fog.
Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of the bathtub and used his damp towel to swipe steam from the mirror. He took a long look at himself and decided a shave was in order. Normally he didn't bother while at the cabin. There was no one around to see him but the dogs. Tonight felt worth the effort. It was Christmas Day, and for the first time in forever, he wouldn't be alone.
He made quick work of shaving. Without the beard, the cleft in his chin stood out prominently, and he looked younger, baby-faced. As usual, his dark hair was short to tame its inclination to curl, but his brown eyes, described by more than one person in the past as 'intense', shone with a light he didn't see in them very often.
If he had to give it a name, he'd call it happiness. And wasn't that a surprise? Not that Wes was entirely dissatisfied with his life. He knew he had it a lot better than some people. His various foster parents, while apathetic at most, had never been cruel. And now, at only twenty-three, he owned two houses, a successful business, and didn't want for money. He even had a tiny circle of friends, although none of them were especially close.
What did it matter if sometimes he lamented the lack of a romantic partner? There were worse things than being single. He could ignore the moments when he looked at the empty chair across from him at dinner and felt like the weight of his loneliness might break his back.
Wes shoved those thoughts aside. Today, at least, he had a companion. Someone who wanted Wes to the point that he'd traveled countless miles just to try to be at his side. It would be a pity to waste it moping.
Chapter Three
Cooking was one of Garnet's few skills outside of the toy workshop. His fondest childhood memories were of the evenings he spent helping his mother make supper in their cozy, yellow kitchen. Before leaving the North Pole yesterday, he'd made sure to tuck her recipe box into his satchel. It was her green bean casserole and stuffing he'd prepared for Wes tonight, and though he might not be the neatest cook or have much of an eye for presentation, he knew from experience the food would be delicious. He only hoped Wes would enjoy it.
Wes strolled into the kitchen just as Garnet pulled the rolls from the oven. "Should I set the table?"
Garnet stared. He'd seen Wes clean-shaven before, of course, but usually Wes wore a light beard, more scruff than anything. Without the facial hair, he reminded Garnet of the boy he'd once been, and that recollection sent a deep pang through Garnet's chest.
Once, for a brief period in time, Garnet had been the larger of the two of them. He'd yearned to hide and protect Wes. Now, at five-four—freakishly tall by elf standards—next to Wes, Garnet felt pocket-sized. He couldn't shelter Wes's body the wa
y he'd longed to in the past, but Wes's heart, that he would defend with his life if given half a chance.
"Garnet?"
Blinking, Garnet came out of his trance. Wes eyed him curiously, his brows raised.
Garnet remembered Wes's question and flushed. "That would be lovely, thank you. Everything is ready now. I just have to carve the turkey."
"I can do that." Wes went to one of the drawers and started pulling out some silverware.
Together, they set the table, and Garnet sat while Wes began to slice into the turkey. Almost immediately it became evident that Wes wasn't very practiced at carving meat. Garnet hid a smile behind his hands. Somehow, seeing Wes struggle with the task only further endeared him to Garnet, a feat which he hadn't thought possible. He liked that Wes wasn't perfect.
Garnet knew from watching that Wes tended to be grumpy and a bit antisocial. He would shovel his neighbor's driveway, but be dismissive and gruff when thanked. He'd donated several pieces of furniture to a local women's shelter, yet shunned their invitations to stay for dinner. By nature—or perhaps conditioned by his upbringing—Wes was a loner. He obviously liked and cared about people, but Garnet recognized that Wes felt awkward in social situations. Often, his anxiety got mistaken for rudeness. He came across as abrupt, closed off. That, combined with his size, made for an intimidating package.
Few people knew what Garnet did. Underneath the brusque exterior, Wes had a tender, giving heart. He only needed to find someone who understood. Garnet could be that man. Elf.
All he had to do now was convince Wes.
*~*~*
Wes couldn't recall ever enjoying a meal so much. He knew it was the company more than the food, which was fantastic in and of itself. Garnet entertained him with stories about his life in the North Pole. There were tales of his father's inventions and the near-catastrophes caused by a few, rumors about the cause of the lifelong rivalry between Donner and Blitzen (according to the gossip, the paternity of a certain calf was in question—the scandal), and how Mrs. Claus was a bit of a jokester and constantly pulling pranks on unsuspecting elves. Wes liked that last one best of all because it was so at odds with the image in his head of a matronly old woman baking cookies all day long.
Garnet's hand gestures and reenactments had Wes doubled over the table at one point, tears streaming from his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. The laughter left his stomach aching in the best possible way as they popped a frozen cherry pie into the oven and went about cleaning the kitchen.
Later, with plates of pie and mugs of warmed apple cider, they settled on the couch to watch Miracle on 34th Street. It was a childhood favorite for Wes, one he'd watched every year when Mitch was alive, but Garnet claimed to have never seen it. Wes decided that had to be rectified—immediately.
Yet as the movie wore on, Wes found his attention straying to Garnet again and again. Garnet sat tucked into the corner of the couch, his legs curled up beneath him, hands stuffed into the sleeves of his oversized sweater. Usually, one of the dogs would be on the couch with Wes, but they'd all sprawled on the floor near the fireplace, leaving the space between him and Garnet empty.
Wes didn't let himself think about it too hard before he reached over and grabbed Garnet's wrist, tugging softly.
Garnet looked at him in surprise.
Wes pulled again. "C'mere."
Garnet shot him a shy smile and let himself be arranged to lay with his back to Wes's chest. Wes buried his face in Garnet's auburn hair, inhaling the scent of the spices he'd used to cook and an underlying hint of something minty. Garnet shivered a little in his arms.
"I like this."
Wes might have missed the whispered words had he not been so focused on Garnet. He had to admit, Garnet felt good in his arms. Wes enjoyed the difference in their sizes, the way he could tuck Garnet's head under his chin and how Garnet fit against his chest and their legs tangled together. Garnet's arms folded over his, and Wes hummed quietly. His body stirred at Garnet's proximity—which wasn't surprising; it had been a long time since he'd dated anyone—but he didn't want anything more right then. Just to hold and be held, share heat, comfort.
He nuzzled the tip of Garnet's ear with his nose, and Garnet shivered again. Hard. Wes allowed himself a small smile before brushing his lips over that dainty point. Garnet released a shuddery moan, his head tilting back.
"Does that feel good?" Wes asked.
Garnet nodded. "Will you…?"
"Will I what?"
"Kiss me?"
"Turn over."
Garnet wiggled around until he was facing Wes. This close, Wes saw that his eyes truly were the color of emeralds. He'd never met a human with eyes so vivid. Wes felt as if he was falling into them as he pressed a light kiss to Garnet's mouth.
Garnet's lips parted in silent invitation, which Wes readily accepted. He explored Garnet's mouth with eager thoroughness, learning the way Garnet liked to be kissed, tasting cinnamon from the cider and tart cherry pie. Warmth spread through him as the kisses went on. Garnet's fingers were gentle on his jaw, his mouth so giving and sweet.
Wes lost himself in the myriad of sensations. He cupped Garnet's nape, keeping him close, the soft, downy hair there tickling his palm. It felt so wonderful, achingly right, as if something inside him had clicked into place with the touch of their lips.
Only the need for air and whining from the dogs could drag them apart. Wes panted, his forehead pressed to Garnet's as he tried to reorient himself to a world that didn't include Garnet's mouth on his own.
"That was nice," Garnet whispered.
Wes chuckled. "Nice doesn't come anywhere close."
Garnet smiled and nodded a few times. "How about phenomenal?"
"That's better." Wes glanced over Garnet's shoulder to find four plaintive sets of eyes turned their way. Micah whined and danced in place. "I think they need to go outside."
"I'll let them out."
Before Wes could protest, Garnet was halfway across the room with the dogs at his heels. Laughing, his heart lighter than it had been in ages, Wes got to his feet and switched everything off. He took their empty plates and mugs to the kitchen and washed them quickly, not wanting to deal with emptying the dishwasher until morning.
A few minutes later, Garnet and the dogs were back. Wes walked Garnet to the guest bedroom and paused in front of the door. "Thank you for today. This was the best Christmas I've had in years."
Garnet gave him a rueful smile. "I wish I could have done more, but it was for me too. The best."
Wes hesitated, then dropped a brief kiss on the corner of Garnet's mouth. "Good night." He turned to go to his own room.
"Wes?" Garnet's voice made him pause.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"
Garnet's gaze darted to the guest bedroom, then back to Wes. "I… I have something—" He broke off and bit his lip.
Wes turned to face him fully. "You have something?"
After a moment, Garnet shook his head. "Never mind. I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas again."
"Merry Christmas, Garnet."
*~*~*
The next week passed in a joyful blur. Days were filled with fun and laughter, cooking together, and sledding with the dogs. Nights with movies and board games and kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. They brought in the New Year so wrapped up in one another they completely missed the Times Square ball drop and the local countdown afterward.
Wes had never been happier—which was why a big part of him kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Garnet was everything he could want. Sunny and generous and respectful of Wes's occasional need for space and privacy. Even the dogs liked him, especially Micah, who'd become Garnet's shadow over the past seven days.
Garnet hadn't brought up the subject of returning to the North Pole, and Wes was carefully avoiding the topic himself. He wondered if Garnet really meant it when he'd said he wanted to stay with Wes—wherever he was and for however long Wes would allow. Wes hoped so. The mere tho
ught of Garnet leaving sent a sharp jolt through his chest. At the same time, it all felt so sudden. Wes wasn't the type to believe in things like love at first sight or that whirlwind romances could endure once the fire of passion burned out. Yet some part of him wanted to let go and just see where the current carried him.
Hope, a dangerous emotion for a man so used to loss, had kindled in his heart. He wanted to believe that look he sometimes saw in Garnet's eyes, the one that promised love and commitment and forever. He wanted to allow himself to feel those things in return without the constant dread that something would go wrong and spoil it all. Would there ever be a time when the fear left him, when he could simply experience happiness sans the paranoia?
Wes couldn't say for sure.
A voice in his head kept telling him to enjoy what he had now, to stay in the moment. Nothing in life was everlasting, and no one knew that better than Wes. He should embrace this respite fate had offered him, no matter how brief it might be in the end. Wasn't experiencing a week or two of bliss worth any pain that might come after?
Wes felt the answer like a cry in his soul. Yes. Yes, it would be. He had to put his misgivings aside. It wouldn't be fair to either of them if Garnet was giving his all and Wes kept holding a part of himself back. They deserved this, whatever came of it. This time, right now, was theirs. Regardless of what happened in the future, no one could take that away.
"What's got you thinking so hard?" Garnet's voice asked in his ear.
Seated as he was at the breakfast bar, Wes could lean back against Garnet's chest. Garnet might be small, but he was sturdy and strong. Wes trusted his strength enough to allow Garnet to support him for a moment. "I was just thinking this all feels like a dream." The second the words were out of his mouth, Wes wished he could call them back. He hadn't wanted to bring this up, but Garnet spoke before he could change the subject.
