by KC Burn
Dean drew in a breath, but Tony placed a couple fingers across his mouth.
"No. You don't have to tell me now. Tell me when you're ready. But I don't want to push you past what you can endure. I want us to have fun. Get closer. I don't want to drive you away."
"What if I drive you away?" Those words shouldn't make Dean's eyes sting but they did. He only hoped that the shadowy area in which they stood kept Tony from realizing his eyes were filling against his will.
Tony placed a firm kiss on Dean's forehead. "I want you to learn to enjoy something that I love, absolutely. But if you never do, that won't be enough to drive me away. Already, I know you well enough to be sure of that."
Dean blinked rapidly to clear his eyes because he wasn't ready to show that kind of vulnerability to anyone, even if Tony might be the only one he'd feel safe enough with to do so. Tony's words spoke of acceptance and caring that didn't have unpleasant strings attached. It had been so long since anyone in his life had even come close that he'd assumed he'd go his entire existence without finding it. And he didn't want to risk losing it over his distaste of all things Christmas.
"If you really don't want to do this, we can maybe go to a movie—a non-Christmas one. Or grab dinner someplace."
Pulling in a deep breath, Dean made his decision. "No. Please, let's do what you planned. I want... I want to see what you enjoy." And he desperately, fervently, hoped he was able to learn to love it too.
Tony stared deeply into his eyes, as though assessing his sincerity, before he nodded sharply. "Okay. And, you know, whenever you feel like talking about the deeper reasons for not liking Christmas... I promise, I'll listen without judgment. Promise."
Just like that, Dean's eyes started stinging again, but Tony didn't give him a chance to say anything that might break the seal on the waterworks, and he kissed him, properly this time.
Dean had a moment to marvel at the odd chill of Tony's nose against his cheek compared to the inferno of Tony's mouth before he gave himself over to the lips, because Tony's kisses weren't like any he'd had in his entire twenty-eight years and they deserved every bit of his concentration. If there was a hint of desperation, because he truly didn't want to drive Tony away, Tony was kind enough not to notice.
After a few delicious seconds, Tony lifted his lips away from Dean's but continued to hold him tight. Dean was already warmed up enough that he could probably strip off right here, except he was also in a state barely appropriate for public viewing. Thankfully, his jeans and jacket were enough to hide his unseemly excitement.
"As much as I love kissing you, if you're serious about continuing on with the date then let's go rent some skates. You'll be fine. I promise."
Fine. Dean wasn't exactly fine. He'd skidded across the ice more times than he cared to recall and would be sporting some substantial bruising over the next couple of days, but he hadn't lost an eye or opened an artery. Probably, he could count that as a win. They sat on an unoccupied bench to unlace their skates.
Tony smiled at him, cheeks pink. "You had fun, right?"
"It wasn't that bad." Tony's smile dimmed, and Dean found himself scrambling. "I had fun. It wasn't what I expected, but yes, I had fun."
He must have been more convincing this time, because Tony nodded happily and went to turn in their skates. Dean did what he could to stretch his feet and legs but he suspected tomorrow he'd be walking like an elderly man with gout. How had he lived his whole life never using some of the muscles in his feet and calves? The low-grade ache told the story, though. If it weren't for his rubbery legs, Tony probably would have kept them out there for quite a bit longer. Dean smiled. Maybe he wouldn't want to go skating every week or anything, but he hadn't been lying. He did have fun, especially because Tony had held his hand in public.
By the time Tony got back, his toes were beginning to get chilled from the eddies of wind swirling old leaves around the bench.
"Oh, hey, I forgot. Skating can be a little hard on the feet when you're not used to it." Heedless of any observers, Tony tugged Dean's legs up onto the bench before pulling Dean's feet onto his lap. Without a proper seatback to lean on, Dean couldn't truly melt into the foot massage.
"Oh my God." By sheer force of will, Dean avoiding sounding like Tony was fucking him right there, but he'd never felt anything so good outside of an orgasm. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising that his cock joined the party, firming up as though this was foreplay. Then again, maybe a massage from the guy you were dating counted as such. "Where did you learn to do that?"
Tony smirked like he knew exactly how hard Dean was. "Just doing what would feel good to me."
"I've never had anything massaged before." Certainly not professionally, although he'd had a couple guys offer. He'd turned them down, though. It hadn't been hard to tell they'd intended to use the opportunity to soften up his defenses, and the sheer underhandedness of the maneuver had left Dean cold. With Tony's hands on him, he was anything but cold. In fact, he was ready to continue this date somewhere private, somewhere warm enough to get naked. There were tattoos he'd never gotten to taste, never gotten to see, and he needed to know if Tony had anything pierced. Besides, Tony had already softened up his defenses—the massage didn't have any manipulative overtones. And it was so fucking good that if it went on much longer, Dean might just come in his jeans. That was a habit he didn't need.
Goosebumps raised the hairs on his nape, and as much as he could probably let Tony do this all night, the precum moistening his briefs told him he needed to stop.
"Thanks, that feels a lot better." The husk in Dean's voice was identical to his sex-voice and it was clear Tony recognized it as such. Tony's eyes darkened, but he allowed Dean to move his legs and put his shoes back on.
"C'mon." Tony gave him a hand to help him to his feet and pressed a kiss to his chilled nose. "Let's grab some dinner."
Dinner? That wasn't going somewhere private to fuck, and Dean was ready to get naked. But Tony's enthusiasm was oddly contagious, so he adjusted himself and allowed Tony to lead him off.
They didn't go far. One of the streets—and he was already so turned around after several laps around the ice rink, he wasn't quite sure where they were—had attracted a throng of hot dog vendors and food trucks. Tony made straight for one of the hot dog vendors, but as soon as he sensed Dean pulling back, he stopped.
"Street meat after skating—it's kind of a tradition in my family. Don't you like diesel dogs?"
This was why "dating" wasn't a good idea for him. There were so many weird emotional landmines waiting for him in things other people found innocuous.
Dean shrugged, delaying an answer as long as he could, but Tony was too fucking perceptive. Probably made him an excellent nurse, but it made Dean vulnerable at the most unexpected moments.
"Hey." Tony's voice lost the bantering tone as he faced Dean. "Remember, you can tell me anything. I promise. But I know you're not vegetarian... and I haven't seen evidence of germophobia, so what's up? We can eat at one of the other food trucks. Or go to a restaurant."
Even as he was mentally kicking himself for not lying and just telling Tony he didn't like hot dogs, Tony's mention of germophobia softened the moment, dragging the corner of Dean's mouth up in a half-smile. If anyone was a germophobe in this relationship, it was Tony. Also, probably not a bad trait for a nurse, but still.
"It's stupid." Stalling was also stupid, because he was pretty sure Tony was going to get the whole story one of these days. Dean wasn't sure if he trusted anyone to stick around, but he'd already gotten addicted to spending time with Tony, even if it was just on the phone. Thing was, he still wasn't sure he was prepared for the knowledge that someone was there for him. All his life, he'd been on his own. Trusting someone else to be there was new—and terrifying.
"I'm sure it's not, but I hope you know by now that doesn't matter to me. I just want to know about you."
Considering Tony had taken his nieces trick-or-treating dressed as a princess—at t
heir request—Dean was fairly confident he wouldn't care. That didn't automatically slice through years of having to protect himself because no one else would. But that picture, which Tony had emailed to him after the phone call where they'd discussed his Halloween adventures, was one of his most prized possessions. One day, he hoped to print it, frame it, and put it up in his apartment.
"It's just... there was a time when money was tight." That was a fucking understatement, but the last thing he wanted was pity. "But diesel dogs were cheap, you know? I remember they tasted so good. It's been years since I've had one, and I'm kind of afraid that the only reason they were any good is because it was better than not eating at all."
It sounded ridiculous when he said it aloud, and he honestly wasn't sure what results he wanted from this experiment. Diesel dogs were one of the few good memories of his youth, but even if that had been distorted by circumstance, he couldn't say there hadn't been other good memories he'd made since. Like peppermint mocha coffee. Tony's tongue in his ear. Even, the vaguely paternal concern of his boss at the pharmacy.
Tony nodded. "Okay. I get it. I love those dogs. Love 'em. But even if you don't like them, that doesn't negate a good memory, you know? Your tastes can change as time goes on. When I was a kid, I had a friend whose mom would put spreadable cheese food on bread and stick raisins all over it."
Dean's eyes widened and he mock-gagged. "That sounds horrific."
Tony shrugged. "I loved it. I would beg my mom to make it for me, but she absolutely refused. The only times I had it were at Paul's house. Paul moved away when I was in second grade, and that was the end of that culinary delight. When I was first on my own, I remembered that snack and bought myself all the ingredients."
Despite knowing Tony was pausing dramatically on purpose, Dean played along. "And? What happened? It was shit, right?"
"Yeah. It was shit. And I'll never willingly eat it again, but that doesn't mean that those memories of playing at Paul's house and his mom making a snack that I loved at the time are diminished. I guarantee diesel dogs are nothing like plasticky cheese spread with raisins, and I bet you'll still love them."
"I'll take that bet. If I don't still love them, you're buying me dinner somewhere else."
Tony lifted a brow. "And if you do still love them? What do I win?"
Dean affected his most haughty expression. "You get a diesel dog for dinner. Isn't that enough?"
A loud burst of laughter escaped Tony, making Dean chuckle along with him. "You are incredible, you know that?"
The rush of blood to his cheeks battled with the wind chill, making Dean's face tingle, and he had no idea how to respond to such a frank compliment. Fortunately, Tony didn't wait for a response. He just gave Dean another quick kiss—this time on the lips—before grabbing his hand again and heading to one of the hot dog stands.
A change in the direction of the breeze brought the scent of hot grease, grilled meat, and the vinegary tang of sauerkraut to his nose. Almost before he could decide that, yes, it smelled great, his stomach growled viciously and his mouth watered in anticipation.
"Here, let me get it." Dean pulled out his wallet, earning a glare from Tony.
"No way. I told you. These dates are all on me. You concentrate on figuring out what you're going to put on your dog."
Well, that was easy. The options were all the same as he remembered, and he was going to put some of them all on his dog... except for mayonnaise, because yuck. Otherwise, the toppings had always seemed like free food, a bonus to the dog itself, and he'd always loaded up as much as he could.
Once Tony had put mustard on his hot dog—he was a bit of purist—he waited as Dean heaped almost every possible topping on his dog. Heaped was the perfect word, because there was a definite mound forming atop the meat, which was completely and utterly buried in stuff.
After Dean had swept, locust-like, through the toppings, Tony led them away from the growing throng of people surrounding the various food trucks. He didn't bother trying to find someplace to sit. Not only would it be cold as fuck, but it only took a few minutes to eat a diesel dog. Besides, with all that crap Dean had loaded on his, it would be better to let it slide off onto the sidewalk than to get it all over his clothes.
God, he hoped he was making some more good memories with Dean. One day, Dean would tell him the whole story, but he'd already pieced together the fact that Dean hadn't grown up with much money. Not the way he'd squirreled away leftovers and decorated his apartment so frugally. Still, for Dean to say that diesel dogs had been a treat and were sometimes all he could afford to eat... heartbreaking. Not like Tony’s parents had been rich, but even when he'd left home to avoid friction with his father after he'd come out, his mom would send him money when he truly needed it. He'd never had to worry about where his next meal was coming from, not really.
Tony held off biting into his own dinner, almost holding his breath as he watched Dean, who he could barely see over the mound of relish, peppers, and other assorted condiments.
Dean bit into the dog, eyes closing in pure pleasure, and Tony's lips curled into a satisfied grin. This was almost as awesome as making Dean come.
"So, any subtext there, with you putting both sauerkraut and onions on your hot dog?"
Mouth full, a tiny smear of mustard at the corner of his lips, Dean eyes flew open, concern chasing away the pleasure.
Tony had only wanted to tease, because he'd already figured out the whole insane topping situation had something to do with getting something for nothing, or at least for no extra charge, and was probably a habit ingrained in Dean for a long time. Maybe teasing him hadn't been wise.
Dean swallowed and peered around. "I can... get rid of it. Or... do they have a container? I can take it home."
Tony was such a fucking idiot. Even though he'd only been intending to make a joke about onions and kissing, poking fun at anything even peripherally related to what appeared to be a sensitive issue for Dean was phenomenally stupid. Dean didn't know him well enough yet to know that teasing was his baseline interaction, especially with people he liked. And he liked Dean, so much. Making him feel self-conscious made Tony feel like shit.
"Don't be silly. I will kiss you no matter what you eat. Finish your dog, because I can see from your face that it's every bit as good as you remembered."
Dean's posture relaxed and he smiled, soft and sweet, hitting Tony right in the belly. If things didn't work with this man, this gift of the holiday, it was going to break him.
"It is good, maybe even better than I remembered. Thank you."
"You're welcome." Tony started in on his own dog.
"You'll kiss me no matter what I eat?"
Tony rolled his eyes, but had to wait until he swallowed before replying. "I don't know if we need to test the boundaries of that, but yeah, I can't think of much you'd put in your mouth that would keep me from wanting to kiss you senseless." He'd deliberately added the sexual innuendo, because he'd also happily kiss this man after blowjobs or rimming.
Score! He got Dean's cheeks to pink up again. His man... or one he hoped would become his man... didn't have any trouble understanding the underlying meaning. Tony was plenty warm, but a shiver of desire raced down his spine. When they finally got naked together, he had a feeling it would be life altering.
"Okay, then. I'm finishing my sauerkraut and onions."
Tony already loved Dean's imperious manner, especially when he was standing up for himself. How long before he fell completely under Dean's spell?
"You do that, Mr. Murphy."
Tony finished his dinner before Dean, but dinner had only taken about ten minutes. "Ready to continue?"
"Where to now?"
"Window shopping."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "What for?"
While leading Dean toward Queen Street—only a few blocks from where they were—Tony wondered how best to articulate this last part of their date. He might have chosen differently if he'd known how destitute Dean had bee
n for at least part of his youth, but he wanted to share one of the favourite parts of his own in the hopes of bringing Dean over to the holly-jolly side.
"When my sister and I were kids, my mom would bring us down here after all the Christmas decorations went up. Mind you, she brought us during the day, but I think it's better at night. The Bay usually puts up some really great window displays for the holidays, and then we'll head into the Eaton Centre because they also have some impressive decorations."
"Um, you want to go into a mall on a Saturday less than two weeks before Christmas? I mean, I don't do a lot of shopping, but even the pharmacy gets crazy the closer we get."
How did he explain this to someone who didn't have any real affection for the holiday?
"We're not buying anything. Don't worry, I'm not going to drag you into any cash register lines. But there's something... heartening about the bustle of people preparing for a holiday that's all about peace and goodwill. It's a chaotic sort of beauty."
Tony hoped his Mr. Murphy didn't mind crowds, because even if they didn't go into any stores, the mall would be packed.
"Okay, we'll see." Dean sounded far less grudging than he had the first time Tony broached the idea of three Christmas dates; they were making progress, however glacial.
They walked in silence for a few moments then Dean caught sight of the windows.
"Oh." The reverence in his tone was an incredible relief. "It's beautiful. How did I not know about this?"
The question had to be rhetorical, because Tony sure as hell didn't know the answer but he wanted to find out. He wanted to throttle whoever had made Dean so closed off and curmudgeonly. Hopefully, after this Christmas, his Mr. Murphy would be Scrooge no longer.
"When my mom started bringing us down here, this store was Simpsons, but it was bought out by The Bay when I was still a kid. I remember my mom being heartbroken, afraid that the days of the Christmas windows were done for, but The Bay kept up the tradition."
"I... this isn't what I expected at all when you said window shopping."
