Must Love Christmas (Glasgow Lads on Ice)

by Avery Cockburn

  Simon couldn’t find the energy to protest. He stood unsteadily and took hold of his walking frame. “Be sure and pull the chairs away from the table in case any mice want to jump up and get the gingerbread.”

  “There are no mice here.”

  “Yeah, let’s keep it that way.”

  “Roger that,” Garen said. “Shall I join you later?”

  “If you like,” Simon said, though he kind of wanted to sleep alone tonight. He needed the rest.

  Once Simon was in bed, he fell asleep hard and fast, but woke when Garen crawled in beside him.

  “Hey,” he managed to mumble, but kept his eyes closed, hoping his boyfriend would go to sleep straightaway.

  But Garen wrapped an arm round Simon’s waist under the covers and snuggled close from behind. “Oh my God, you’re so warm.” He settled his head on Simon’s pillow. “Is this okay? Am I hurting you?”

  “You’re not hurting me,” Simon said, choosing not to answer the first question. “G’night.”

  “Goodnight.” Garen kissed the nape of his neck and fell still.

  Most of him, anyway. Just as Simon was drifting back to sleep, he felt Garen’s cock twitch against his arse.

  “Sorry, that was involuntary,” Garen whispered, stuffing a fold of the duvet between them. “There, that should help.”

  But it was too late. Though most of Simon’s body was sliding toward sleep, one part of him was now headed in the opposite direction.

  “Wish I wasn’t too tired.” He reached back to sweep his hand over Garen’s thigh.

  “It’s okay. I’m just happy to be here.” He caressed Simon’s waist with a firm touch. “For what it’s worth, though, I’m not too tired to do stuff for you. If you fancied me sucking you off now. For instance.”

  Simon’s prick responded with enthusiasm, but he said, “I don’t want you to do that.”

  “Okay. Goodnight again.”

  In the ensuing silence, Simon felt the need to explain. “I mean, I want you to do it, but not if I can’t reciprocate. I don’t feel right about that.”

  “I don’t mind, else I wouldn’t have offered.”

  “I mind,” Simon said. “You already do too much for me.”

  Garen shifted up onto his elbow. “Do I? Like, in general?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  Okay, so they were having this conversation. Simon reluctantly switched on the faerie lights, then turned over. “You’ve been so kind to me. I can never repay you, and that makes me feel like shit.”

  Garen’s voice softened. “Oh, Simon, never talk of repaying me. It’s not necessary.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “But the whole point of kindness is that it’s not done to get something in return. It’s not tallied in some sort of ledger as a debt on one side and a credit on the other. Besides…” Garen sank back and laid his head on the other pillow. “Letting me help you is a gift to me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Obviously.” He placed his hand on the duvet between his body and Simon’s. “Helping you makes me happy, but more than that, it makes me feel competent, which is pretty rare in my personal life.”

  Simon felt his resistance crack but not quite crumble. Garen sounded so desperately sincere, it was hard to doubt he believed his own words. Maybe that was all that mattered.

  “Promise me you’ll stop if I become a burden,” Simon said.

  Instead of protesting that Simon could never be a burden or some such nonsense, Garen said, “I promise. Remember, I’m not keen on miserable situations.”

  Simon wondered what would constitute a miserable situation between them. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Garen flicked a glance downward. “Shall I give you a blowjob, then?”

  Simon laughed. “Well, if it would make you feel more competent.”

  “Oh aye.” Garen lifted the duvet and burrowed beneath.

  “Won’t you suffocate under there?”

  “It’s too cold to peel the covers back.” Garen settled between Simon’s thighs and tugged down his sleep trousers and briefs. “Hold my hair, though?”

  “Gladly.” Simon reached down and gathered Garen’s soft waves in both hands. His grip tightened as Garen eased down his foreskin and slid his tongue up the center of his shaft. “Shit…”

  “You taste delicious.” Garen softly pressed his lips to Simon’s cock head. “You want it fast or slow?”

  “Both.” Simon’s whisper was already shaky. “Slow, then fast.”

  Garen obeyed, taking him in with a long, leisurely swallow, then backing off inch by inch, until Simon was gasping for breath, already craving more.

  Then he closed his eyes and let every muscle relax, sinking into his pillow and the mattress. As Garen’s mouth worked its sublime magic, Simon just lay back and accepted this pure gift of a moment.

  Garen’s strokes soon quickened, turning more purposeful. Simon looked down, relishing the sight of the duvet bobbing up and down with the motions of Garen’s head. It reminded him of being a teenager, stealing furtive orgasms wherever and whenever possible, whether by himself or with another lad.

  He imagined Garen doing this to him during a “sleepover” in his room at home, both of them keeping dead quiet so as not to alert his parents. The illicit thrill shot straight down Simon’s spine, adding to the sensations sparking inside him.

  “Yeah…” Fisting Garen’s hair, Simon lifted his hips. Garen took the cue, tightening his lips and taking him deeper than ever, his hungry moan fluttering the back of his throat against Simon’s head.

  That was all it took. Simon gave a loud groan as he came, glad they lived on their own and didn’t need to stay quiet for anyone’s sake.

  Garen crawled up from under the duvet and flopped onto the other pillow. “Whew, I’m definitely not cold anymore.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just a bit out of breath from being under the covers.”

  “I mean, are you okay not coming?”

  “I’m twenty-six years old. I can survive without daily orgasms. Just about, anyway.” Garen kissed Simon’s cheek. “Sleep well.”

  “Thank you.” Simon felt the tug of slumber, but he had something to say. “For what you told me before, about letting you help. I’ll try to stop resisting so hard.”

  “If you need to resist, then resist.” Garen closed his eyes and nuzzled the pillow. “I won’t take it personally.”

  Yes, you will, Simon thought.

  This was a thin, frayed tightrope they were walking—living together, being together while trying to maintain their own individual spaces. Most couples eased into a relationship, sharing a bed once or twice a week at first. And most couples weren’t also dealing with a debilitating illness and all the power issues arising from it.

  But maybe these challenges had made him and Garen stronger. Maybe the things that would pull most couples apart were actually cementing their connection. They couldn’t just storm off and stop talking to each other when times got hard. They’d have to work out their problems like adults.

  The alternative was a breakup that would shatter their lives.

  Chapter 19

  10 Days Until Christmas

  “I’ve got brilliant news!” Garen said by way of greeting when his sister Skyped him after work Thursday.

  “Me too, but you go first, since you’re the baby of the family.” She looked to the side and ran her fingers through her long blond hair, which seemed wavier than usual tonight.

  He ignored her overused joke. “When you come for Christmas next week, you won’t need to sleep on the couch. You can have this bed.” He patted his duvet, now featuring a cover with swirling snowflakes.

  “You’ve never given me your room before,” she said. “Where will you be sleeping?”

  “In my flatmate’s bed.”

  She brightened. “So Simon’s recovered enough to go to Greece?”

  “No,
I mean I’ll be in his bed with him. We’re kind of a thing. I mean, not ‘kind of.’ We’re a thing. He’s my boyfriend.” Garen reached over to his bedside table and picked up the wee electric torch. “He gave me this for an early Christmas gift. Funny story behind it. When we first met, I said—” He stopped, realizing his sister was merely blinking at him. “Karen, did you hear me?” He checked his earphones, rotating the microphone toward his mouth. “Have we lost sound?”

  “Yes, I heard you. Are you daft?” She leaned in toward the camera. “You guys live together. What happens when you break up?”

  “I don’t know.” He glanced at the closed door of his bedroom. As far as he knew, Simon was still in the living room working. “I’ve not thought that far ahead.”

  “There’s a shock.”

  “But what if we don’t break up? Like, ever?”

  “I can’t remember the last time I heard you say that about someone.”

  Garen couldn’t remember either. These past few years, he’d grown cynical about his ability to maintain a relationship. It was as though the moment he fell for a man, a time bomb began to tick inside his heart. When it went off, he didn’t stick around to pick up the pieces, just made a mad dash to escape the blast zone.

  But with Simon, there was no ticking. Maybe that meant there was no bomb.

  “Why is this guy different?” Karen asked.

  Garen had lain awake last night contemplating this question. “He takes me out of myself. It’s a strange feeling, and I don’t always like it, but I can’t shut it off like I do with most people.”

  “Why not?”

  “I mean, we’re very different in all sorts of ways, and usually I use that as an excuse to give up on a relationship. But his illness—his disability—kinda forces reality through my thick skull. Without it, I’d probably carry on wearing my blinkers and assuming he sees the world the same way I do, that he wants and needs the same things in the same ways.” Garen fidgeted with the torch in his hand, flicking the light on and off. “And I probably do still act that way, especially with all this Christmas stuff, but I’m trying not to. With most people I wouldn’t even think to try.”

  “Wow,” Karen said. “And how does Simon feel?”

  “He’s not always easy to read.” Garen attempted his best guess. “But I’ve already made a million mistakes with him, and he seems to still think I’m worth it, to the point where I’m starting to think maybe…” His throat tightened a bit, so he had to force out the words. “Maybe I am worth it.”

  “If you’ve finally figured that out because of Simon, then I’m happy for you, even if he is your flatmate. He seems pure sweet, and he’s definitely cute.”

  “I agree. So what’s your good news?”

  “Wellllll…” She pressed her palms together in front of her chest, curling her fingertips in. “I’ve met someone too. His name is Nikolaj, and he teaches biology at my school.”

  “Wait, you’re nipping my head about sleeping with a flatmate while meantime, you’re winching a coworker? Hypocritical much?”

  “Come on, my history with guys is way less drama-filled than yours.”

  She had a point. “I’m pure chuffed for you. How long have you been seeing Nikolai?”

  “Nikolaj. Since the summer.”

  “And you’re just now telling me?”

  “See, that’s the difference between me and you,” she said. “I wait until it’s a sure thing before I start announcing my undying love.”

  “Whoa, I didn’t say I—” Garen lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “I didn’t say I love Simon.”

  “With your face you did, just a minute ago when you told me why he’s different.” She put her hands out to cut off further protest. “And before we start talking about you again…would you like to meet Nikolaj?”

  “Yes, definitely.” Anything to change the subject from his own love life.

  Karen beckoned someone behind the camera. In a moment, a stocky man with a magnificent head of black curls—and a beard to match—sat on the bed beside her.

  “Hello, Garen,” Nikolaj said. “How are you?”

  They chatted for ten minutes or so, mostly about teaching science to young children. Nikolaj was fluent in English, and Karen had to translate but a mere handful of phrases into Bulgarian. Garen noticed that she spoke English to Nikolaj with barely a trace of Scottish accent. It was like meeting a brand-new version of his sister.

  On impulse, Garen asked, “Nikolaj, what are you doing for Christmas? Would you like to spend it here with us?”

  Karen’s face froze, her eyes wide.

  Uh-oh. Overstepped.

  Nikolaj looked at her, then at Garen, and finally gave a nervous smile. “I think I must talk to Karen about it.”

  “Yes,” she said in a tight voice. “We’ll discuss.”

  “Okay.” Garen pretended to look at his nonexistent watch. “Welp, time to start putting together our gingerbread house. Wish us luck.”

  They signed off, and Garen closed his laptop, feeling guilty.

  His phone buzzed with a text.

  Karen: Why did you put me on the spot like that???

  Garen: Sorry! I thought you two were serious

  Karen: We are serious, but are we Christmas serious? It’s complicated

  Garen: I liked him a lot and got carried away

  Over a minute later, she replied: Title of your memoir

  Garen shifted his feet impatiently under the dining table as he held the edges of two gingerbread walls against each other. “This looks so much faster in Hallmark movie montages.”

  “That’s the magic of Hollywood editing.” Simon leaned over to examine the angle of Garen’s wall, then made an adjustment so wee as to be indiscernible. “Hold that still for another minute until the mortar dries.”

  Garen started mentally counting backward from sixty, but got distracted by his own thoughts after reaching fifty-four.

  While he was thoroughly enjoying every moment in Simon’s bed this week, Garen had started to wonder about expectations. Were they to sleep together every night, like a long-term couple? Would Simon be hurt if Garen suggested they sleep in their own beds once in a while? He’d never lived with a partner before and had no idea how to broach the topic. Hopefully Simon felt the same way and would soon raise the subject himself.

  Simon picked up the pastry bag and another wall of the gingerbread house. He pulled in an audible breath, which he held as he went to spread royal-icing mortar along the edge of the wall.

  Alas, his hands shook too hard for the two surfaces to meet. Simon cursed under his breath. “Why won’t my body cooperate?”

  “I could do it if you like,” Garen said, on the off chance Simon would let him help.

  “No, I just need something to hold it still. Bring me those two snow globes on that middle shelf by the TV?”

  Garen fetched the snow globes, the ones featuring the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Mouse King from The Nutcracker Suite. He set them in front of Simon, who used them as a makeshift vise to hold the gingerbread wall.

  “Now I can get a better grip.” Simon set his elbows on the table and picked up the pastry bag, which was much steadier held in two hands.

  “You’re a pure genius.” Garen kissed him on his forehead.

  Simon started drawing a line of white mortar down the edge of the wall. “Talking of geniuses, how come you never finished your dissertation?”

  “Lost interest—not in the topic itself, but in the whole needing-a-piece-of-paper-to-validate-me thing.” He sat back in his seat and took a sip of his hot cocoa—now lukewarm after he’d forgotten about it. “To do public education, all I need is the Master’s I’ve already got.”

  “So what was the topic?”

  Garen tried to remember the exact title but failed. “Basically, the effects of climate change on the diet of—” He stopped and smiled. “You have to guess which species. Ooh, I know: You get one guess per day between now and Christmas Eve, and if you guess
right—”

  “Reindeer.”

  Garen stared at him, feeling hopelessly transparent.

  Simon glanced up from his mortaring job. “Did I guess right?”

  “Erm…yeah.”

  “Sorry, was it meant to be a mystery? I should’ve saved the correct guess for Christmas Eve.”

  “That would be a bit patronizing.”

  “Only if you knew I already knew.” Simon set down the pastry bag. “I should’ve guessed dust bunnies.”

  “Haw now…” Garen said with feigned indignation.

  “Like the ones under my bed, since apparently someone never hoovered there while I was in hospital.”

  “I’ve never hoovered under a bed in my entire life. Mind, you told me the other day to be myself, which includes my suboptimal housekeeping skills.”

  Simon carefully withdrew his wall from between the snow globes. “Okay, I’ll try to forget I ever saw the dust hippopotamuses lurking mere inches from where I sleep.”

  “Also try to forget that hippos are amongst the most aggressive and deadly species in the world.”

  “Really?”

  “I would not lie to you about zoological matters,” Garen said.

  “But hippos are so cute. Do they eat people?”

  “No, they’re vegetarian. They kill us for sport.”

  Simon laughed. “Noted.” He rotated the wall he’d just mortared and pressed it against the short wall, struggling to get it flush. “Come on, steady now…”

  “Don’t worry,” Garen said. “A crooked house will look more haunted.”

  “I suppose.” But Simon’s gaze was intense and his lips set in a tight line. Clearly he wanted it to be perfect. Garen wondered whether they should make this a practice house and then build a second, official one after this session of trial and error.

  When all four walls were up and secure, Garen sat back and looked at the beginnings of their gingerbread house. “It’s smaller than I thought it’d be.”

  “This was the pattern I downloaded. The recipe said it was ideal for novices.” Simon rotated the cardboard platform to examine the house from all sides. “It’s more like a gingerbread shed.”