by R. Cooper
He wondered if Everett couldn’t breathe. He seemed to struggle for a moment, and then reached down to rap a knuckle against Alex’s head.
“Always, Alex. No matter what.” He scolded lightly, but rapped Alex’s head again. Alex didn’t even protest. Maybe he deserved it for failing to see so much for so long. It took moments, long moments of bright hope that he could not quell and aching relief, but finally, he could breathe again, and sigh.
He looked out over the rest of the group to give his mind something else to focus on.
They were all watching either a Christmas special or a telethon showing a familiar holiday movie because they seemed to know the lines and were having a good time drunkenly calling them out. Maybe they were mocking it, but they were loving it too. Rachel had her feet in Molly’s lap. Robert was stretched out on the floor and trying to figure out a game on Ty’s phone.
“Families like this really exist.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it still shocked him, even after years of being welcome here.
“It takes hard work, don’t be fooled,” Everett warned, his voice a quiet echo.
“I know. There’s no such thing as perfection.” He didn’t mean to say that. Everett drew in a breath, so Alex quickly waved a hand. “And this afternoon your father had me chopping the wood for that fire.”
Everett’s laugh was genuine but unsurprised and maybe a touch too loud. “It’s a far cry from your life now, though, I imagine. It’s not too boring for you?”
Alex wondered if Everett was aware of how his hand was now trailing through his hair, pulling it from the rubber band with gentle motions. Everett’s fingernails were light on his scalp. His fingertips grazed the curve of Alex’s ear. Alex almost moaned.
“No.” He fought for his breath. His head fell back on its own, and he looked up. Everett was looking down with starry, hot eyes. Everett’s mouth was open. Alex’s mouth fell open to match it.
“Guess what was on sale at the mall?” Ty’s voice carried from across the room, making Everett scowl and look away. Alex did, too, blinking as though he was the one who had been drinking. Ty had Molly and Rachel squealing as he kissed them, a sprig of mistletoe in his hands.
Robert firmly shook his head, which was enough of a clue that Alex should have been less surprised when Ty approached them after Gigi, but his mind felt bizarrely, horribly slow. He frowned, not really giving a damn about being rude when Ty came over to him, though he knew that it was a surprise to the other man when he shook his head in polite refusal too.
Everett didn’t have a chance. The booze and the fire and Alex had done their work. He angled his head up slowly and parted his lips automatically as Ty’s mouth touched his. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, and then it was over, a buzzed Ty running on to find a new victim.
Alex thought about hesitant, exchanged breaths, sticky mouths, and milky butterscotch. Then Everett looked at him, and he thought about cocoa and all the liquor he’d poured into that drink and the wet mouth of a shared bottle of stolen whiskey on a dark night by the lake. Everett might have been having the same thought, confusing wants and dreams and real moments; he licked his lips and stared sideways at Alex for a long moment before he raised the cup to his mouth and let Alex watch him swallow every drop in it.
“It’s Christmas,” Everett sang in his ear, in a way that said he thought he was whispering. His breath smelled like rum and chocolate. His declaration was about as quiet as his footsteps. The staircase was old, and the carpet didn’t do much to muffle each creak and groan from the wood.
“It’s after midnight,” he pointed out a moment later, right as Alex had been going to remind him of the lateness of the hour and the fact that they were passing his parents’ bedroom.
“Yes, it is. How astute of you, Everett.” He had a feeling that with his job, Everett didn’t get to have nearly as much fun as he should have. It was nice to take care of him for once, though Everett was no cream puff as he leaned against Alex, and steering him away from walls and doorjambs took some effort.
Not that Everett was resisting, he was simply clumsy with drink and good cheer. Everett had left his shoes somewhere downstairs, so when Alex got him into the darkened room and he fell backward onto the bed, Alex spent a moment considering letting Everett sleep in his clothes.
It was Everett who decided for him by reaching for the fly of his jeans and attempting to pull them off. Alex glanced up at him as he took over, but Everett had other things on his mind once it was clear that Alex was now going to undress him. Like sliding his hands under Alex’s clothes. If he was handsy while sober, he was positively obscene while drunk; somehow Alex hadn’t let himself remember that part in detail. But then they’d never shared a bed like this on any Christmas past.
Everett’s hands moved over Alex’s skin like he had to learn his body by Braille until Alex panted his name and pulled out of his reach. He was trembling, but at the moment Everett wasn’t in any mind to notice. It was almost enough to make him wonder how Everett had survived in a world of not-nice men, especially when he was like this. How he’d ever said no to Everett at seventeen was a mystery.
Alex slid Everett’s jeans off and then stood over him, thinking Everett could sleep in his underwear and a T-shirt just fine and not of the heat of Everett’s skin at his fingertips. Everett was watching him. The look in his eyes had not changed in the last few hours.
He struggled to lean on his elbows, then to sit up. “Want to know what I asked for, for Christmas?”
Alex froze, his mouth open as he caught his breath. There was a rush of sound in his ears. He could guess what Everett had asked for, but of course he didn’t know and couldn’t afford to take anything for granted.
“Is it the same thing you wished for when blowing out your birthday candles?” he asked lightly, smiling because he hadn’t thought Everett took things like holiday magic and birthday wishes seriously, and he was pretending that he had never had the same thoughts.
“Yes.” Everett frowned, but he wasn’t angry. “There’s no such thing as perfect, Alex. I can even prove it.” He seemed to be concentrating. “Wait.” He reached out for his jeans and began digging through the pockets. He brandished a crushed sprig of mistletoe a moment later and grinned.
Alex stopped smiling.
“You took it?”
“You aren’t the only petty thief in the family.” Everett was very proud of himself. “It’s safer in my hands anyway. Pushy, wasn’t he?” Pushy wasn’t the word, but Alex nodded. Everett focused back on him.
“You didn’t kiss him, though.” He was steady, if just for the moment, peering intently into Alex’s eyes.
“No.” There was nothing else to say.
“Not your type?” The unexpected question made Alex take a step back. For once he couldn’t track Everett’s thoughts. Evidently seeing that, Everett elaborated. “I don’t know. You haven’t talked about that kind of thing with me since we were kids.”
“Haven’t I?” There were people who had never seen him with Everett who would be shocked to see him this speechless.
“I figured you were being kind to me.”
Charmed and bewildered, Alex straightened, then gave up and sat down on the bed. He stared at Everett, who stared back at him and waited. When no further answer was forthcoming, Alex cleared his throat.
“For once I’m the one who doesn’t follow someone else’s reasoning, but kindness is not something I’m especially known for.” Unforgiving honesty was more like it, even Ally had known that. Everett angled his head sideways, which brought his body sideways with it, until he was in Alex’s space again.
“Only by people who don’t know you.”
“You know me.” He didn’t know why he said it, but he had to respond to Everett’s sincerity. Everett lifted his head an inch.
“I… used to think I did. Now I don’t know.” His every breath was tempting, but Alex held himself still. Everett continued, his whispers almost a moan.
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��When we were younger and you’d look at me like that, I’d want to touch you in ways I didn’t understand.” Everett was killing him. If Everett cared for him, he wouldn’t say these things, not with his face so close and his eyes so intent. “And I could. I did. And then I couldn’t anymore.”
He did not ask why, but Alex could hear his pain and looked away.
“I wasn’t in my right mind, Everett.” It was the truth, if not the whole truth. Everett was so drunk, he wasn’t sure anything would sink in. Everett’s chest moved. Alex listened to him breathe, in and out, and recalled waking up in a hospital bed to Everett watching him sleep.
“How about now?” The question startled him. Alex turned back to Everett, cold inside, burning on the surface. “Would I be your type now?”
What a question. Everett was the type.
Alex closed his eyes and felt his hands close tight around a gift that was long gone. There was too much to say. Even drunk, Everett had him trapped.
“Oh you, Everett.” His voice trembled. “You play dirty.”
“It’s a long game we’ve played.” He had to be imagining his own words in Everett’s mouth, had to be, but he couldn’t open his eyes, not yet.
“No shy miss or stuttering saint,” he said back, taking slow, delicate steps. “Not you. You coax me along on our adventure, adrift on a square of wool.” It was nonsense, but Everett made a sound that made Alex look at him.
Everett drew in a long breath and very slowly raised the mistletoe. “So if I…?”
Those damn lights outside the window were letting Alex see everything. He’d had to use moonlight when he’d been sneaking in that window. Sometimes he had used that window even after he’d lived here and had had every right to use the door. The symbolism wasn’t lost on him. He’d snuck like a thief into his own new home, but it had been Everett stealing kisses from him in front of that window.
He realized he was trembling at the very moment Everett raised his other hand and put it to his cheek. Alex looked up, though he didn’t want to. He could only imagine what Everett was seeing in his face.
“I’m scared, Everett.” It was best to acknowledge it before Everett could ask. There was so much to be afraid of, and there’d be no place to run to if this was the wrong time. This thing with Everett had always been about wanting him forever, which was maybe why he’d never taken it further, not even drunk and desperately hard, alone in the woods with Everett next to him and whispering sweetly into his ear.
Everett swayed forward, the mistletoe about the only thing steady about him, and was upright again before Alex could put a hand to his cheek to feel where Everett had kissed him. He realized his mouth was open at the same moment he realized he was frowning, and then Everett leaned back in to kiss him properly.
Everett’s lips were parted, warm. Alex put a hand to the back of Everett’s neck and then inhaled sharply when Everett’s hands slid over his ribs and stopped. They were both breathing carefully, sharing fear and shock and heat. A noise slipped from Alex, uncertain, asking, but it became a moan when Everett slowly moved his hands under Alex’s clothes to touch his skin.
He didn’t know where the mistletoe had gone, and he didn’t care, not in that moment, kissing but not moving, not daring to until he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled Everett closer.
Everett shuddered. His gasp was wet, his mouth like chocolate and alcohol. Alex pushed forward, sliding his fingers through Everett’s hair to bring his head back, and reveling, just as Everett had said he did, in the dark, hungry sounds Everett made as relief turned to need. He wanted each groan, each weak admission that Everett might feel even a fraction of what was tearing him in two.
“Alex.” As though he did, Everett’s cries were broken, and loud, too loud. Carrying across inches and oceans and light years and definitely down the hall.
Alex tore himself away at the thought and squeezed his eyes shut at what he was doing. Everett let out a sound like a whine but fell against him. He left his hands splayed wide over Alex’s skin, but didn’t attempt anything more. He was shaking. Alex ran his fingertips gently down the back of Everett’s neck once more and then again, until Everett took a long breath.
Everett was loud probably because he was drunk, Alex told himself, and to make this even more fantastically fucked up, the bedroom door was still open.
“Your parents are just down the hall,” Alex whispered, almost apologizing. What a strange thing it was for him of all people to say, but it made Everett laugh, a choked snort against Alex’s face. It was the kind of thing children who didn’t want to get in trouble would say. What they’d just been doing was hardly reading comics after bedtime or looking at forbidden pornography together—although it was at least somewhat closer to that first electric realization that neither of them were really interested in the women in those magazines, at least not as much as the hard cock on display.
And once again he realized that though his heart was pounding and his stomach was tight, Everett had him smiling.
“I think they’d approve,” Everett finally answered, and Alex blinked, not certain he was hearing Everett right. Everett’s parents loved him, he could admit that, but he could hardly be their first choice for their son.
He licked lips flavored with cocoa and rum and cleared his throat. “You’re drunk, Everett.”
“Shitty timing, wasn’t it?” Everett seemed more pleased than anything else, and Alex gave him a sharp look that only made Everett’s smile turn triumphant. But a moment later, he was swaying again.
“I do feel very tired.” Everett let go of Alex and slipped back down onto the bed. He was sideways, but looked like he could pass out like that just fine.
“Then turn around so you can sleep properly.” It was difficult to pull his hands away and keep his tone easy. Circumstances changed when the mind was clear. In the morning this could still all be different.
“But it’s Christmas.” Everett’s protest was less effective when he obediently shifted to lie the right way on the bed, if on a different side than the night before, and dropped his head onto the pillow.
“It will be Christmas when you wake up, too, with everything that entails.” Alex stood up and then pulled the blankets from under Everett with a bit of a struggle and tucked him in. He could barely think or stand, but the actions came naturally, perhaps from some childhood memory of his father putting him to bed.
“Hangovers and gifts under the tree and us together again….” Everett trailed off heavily. When he didn’t add anything, Alex put a hand out to touch Everett again, though he could still feel Everett’s hair between his fingers, and his mouth was still bruised from one kiss.
He touched his mouth, then snatched his hand away and went to his luggage to pull out his pills. He swallowed one dry, then kicked away his shoes and shrugged off his pants. He left his sweater on the floor, making sure to shut the bedroom door before he pulled off his T-shirt, too, and got into bed.
It was cold, but that wasn’t why he scooted closer to breathe against the back of Everett’s neck or why he wrapped one arm around him, tight, until he forced himself to relax. He waited even after that, thinking of reasons not to do this, which alone proved he wasn’t crazy. He had every reason in the world not to do this. But a little crazy was his to keep, too, as much as the darkness was, as much as he’d always wanted Everett to be.
Everett was drunk, Everett was half-asleep, but Everett would remember this in the morning. Alex knew that. He should wait until things were clearer, things were different. He should wait. But his lips still felt warm from Everett’s mouth, and he was out of his mind and body, and floating, floating as he whispered the words into Everett’s ear.
“Everett Faraday, I’ve loved you since I was twelve years old.”
Everett wiggled a hand free of the blanket to take hold of his. He twined Alex’s frozen fingers between his and let out a long, long breath.
“Merry Christmas to me.” Everett spoke warmly as though already half-a
sleep and shuffled back against Alex without letting go of his hand or saying another word. Alex didn’t move, not certain if he should when the morning might change all of this. But after minutes spent listening to Everett breathe and feeling their hands together, he let his eyes close too.
No one should be woken up and dragged from the arms of the man he loved by screaming children, even if the excited and far-too-loud voices and flailing bodies of ecstatic kids had also saved that same man from a potentially awkward or horrifying morning after. It was too early for questions at six thirty on Christmas morning.
He could only imagine the sickening shock that Everett had experienced. Judging from his pale face as he’d hurried toward the bathroom, he might be regretting a lot of things from the night before. But there was no avoiding tradition—including Molly, who, unlike her unfortunate roommate, looked as though she’d never had a drop last night and was acting twice as obnoxious as any of the youngsters.
She was still bouncing around, though it was a little past seven, and everyone was up by now. A few stragglers were still in the kitchen getting their coffee, as was Everett, who was continuing his baked-goods duty from yesterday and seeing to the cinnamon rolls he’d prepared in advance.
Alex stared down into his coffee, liberally dosed with sugar, until Molly passed by, and then he shot her a glare.
“I hate you. I want that known.”
Ally clucked at him from across the room where she was taking pictures of the children as they finished off their stockings.
“You love me, and I don’t care,” Molly sang out, a lot like her brother, and then treated Alex to a quick, hot, sideways glance that could have been, and probably was, an imitation of how Everett looked at him. Then she grinned at his shock and flounced back into the kitchen for more coffee.
“I don’t!” Alex collected himself enough to call out. “And bring me a cinnamon roll, you horrible creature.” Exactly how much that girl had witnessed during their teenage years was now apparent. He was only really surprised that she’d kept silent as long as she had.
