by Cooper, R.
“I’m sure,” he agreed at last, but there wasn’t much heart in it. He coughed. “I’ll get right on these,” he offered quietly after that, looking out at the snow though the heat in him didn’t feel like anger.
“I didn’t want you to sacrifice your personal time for work,” Hollyberry remarked, seemingly from nowhere until Casper recalled their earlier conversation. “I’d hate to think I was keeping you from someone.”
“Someone?” Casper almost gaped.
“It is almost dinner time. Time to go home, kick back, eat something,” Hollyberry went on, as though Casper wasn’t staring at him. “I bet you have plans, and I didn’t want to get in your way.” He cleared his throat. “If you did.”
“I don’t.” It slipped out. Casper instantly tugged at his waistcoat. Hollyberry’s eyes followed the gestured before he looked back up. The man seemed pleased. Casper had to say something else. “Is that what you’ll be doing? Kicking back and eating something?”
It was quite possibly the dumbest thing Casper had ever said. Dmitri nodded eagerly, as though he thought more of the question than Casper did.
“That sounds nice,” Casper added, stupidly, wishing he could duck under his desk except that unlike Hollyberry, he didn’t have that big of a desk.
Dmitri raised his head. For a moment, his posture was actually straight. Casper looked down at the work on his desk, and his imagination, such as it was, presented him with images of himself cooking while Dmitri snuck handfuls of grated cheese and sat on his counter to watch him make tacos. In a dream like that, Dmitri wouldn’t leave after dinner, he’d help clean and they’d watch television and discuss their workday, before Casper would slide over to straddle Dmitri’s lap and demand, playfully, seriously, that Dmitri put his hands on his hips or he’d get no kiss. He could wriggle down after a while, fully prepared to suck Dmitri’s cock if Dmitri had been good. And he would be, in that fantasy, he’d do anything for Casper, and Casper would kiss him and suck him and swallow and then allow Dmitri whatever he wanted.
His face burned. Imaginations weren’t all they were cracked up to be.
“It is late, isn’t it?” He could not seem to raise his voice to anything above a feathery whisper. “Thank you for having these in on time.” If he looked up now, he was sure he’d see that amused twinkle. He had to salvage something of his dignity. “It saves me a trip.”
“I almost regret that,” Hollyberry murmured casually as he turned again, taking himself to the shelves and the opposite wall.
Casper couldn’t seem to follow what he meant. “What?”
“Now there’ll be no dark gray suits and red silk ties to interrupt my assistant’s gossiping. No spicy interludes to distract me from all my deadlines.”
Casper hadn’t realized he’d been a distraction. He frowned, then thought… spicy?
It had had to be another joke. But he studied Dmitri’s back, the play of muscle under his bordering-on-obscenely-tight t-shirt as Dmitri studied the personal touches to Casper’s office. He was probably surprised it had any. But they were mostly video game collectibles on the shelves, expensive artwork on the walls. Everything else was work waiting to be done or furniture that had come with the office.
Dmitri stopped at a painting. “I like this one. But it’s so sad, Casper.” It was, and it was all the more unusual because it was by an elf artist. Nothing was less productive to elves than art for art’s sake and not as a present.
“According to the artist, it was a thing of the moment, a giving way to raw emotion,” Casper admitted, then felt like an idiot. But Hollyberry nodded, as though he understood the sentiment. Casper swallowed to hold in more words, foolish, hopeful words that he knew better than to say.
Dmitri had no problem speaking. “It’s one thing I loved about humans, how sometimes productivity is the last thing on their minds. Work is fun, but how they seek out other pleasures instead… Well.”
“You…You don’t find in that other elves?” Was he looking for it? Casper couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t see well enough. He sat up, not certain he was hearing that hint of possible flirtation, but wishing, wishing, he did.
Hollyberry went on. “It’s a quality I’ve always admired, giving way to emotion. Watching it explode right in front of you.”
Casper had to be imagining the gentle teasing, the intimations of something deeper. He didn’t have an imagination, even a Southern elf should know that. Maybe it was another joke. If so it was a cruel one.
He cleared his throat, so hot he was grateful he wasn’t being observed. “Hollyberry, there’s no need to—”
“Dmitri.”
“Hollyberry.” Casper could barely hear himself, but Dmitri, Hollyberry, glanced at him.
“If I turned everything in on time until the end of the year, you’d still call me that, wouldn’t you?”
“Why does it matter?” Casper scowled at him, at the piece of logic that he felt like he was missing when Dmitri was the one who was failing to grasp the obvious.
Dmitri turned away again, touched a figurine on one shelf. “This was a good game. I designed it with the humans, you know.”
Casper had known that, as a matter of fact. Not that he’d confess to it.
“We all know you’re the best, Hollyberry. There’s no need to show off,” he snarked instead, with admirable calm.
But he had to scowl again at the strange look that got him. There wasn’t any hint of sparkle in Dmitri’s eyes. Not even the faintest twinkle. It made Casper turn to his painting, the sad painting that Dmitri wasn’t supposed to have admired.
Instead of smiling to know he’d been right about that flirting, Casper frowned and poked the binder in front of him. “Now, I have work to do and—”
“Okay, okay, Casper.” The other elf sighed. “I won’t show off. I’ll leave you to your work, okay? There’s nothing more to life than work, after all. A productive elf is a happy elf.”
“What?” Casper asked, completely confused at the sigh, at those words.
Hollyberry turned for a moment to glance at him. “See you in a month, huh?” he offered, pleasantly enough, if somehow… off. His tone was too polite, too boring, for him, but as Casper realized that, Dmitri was gone, closing the door behind him.
–
But Casper didn’t see him again. At least, not at the end of the month.
Yes, four weeks had gone by, with perpetual autumn twilight beginning to settle in outside, but there was no sign of Dmitri, or even his assistant. It was the last day of the month. Casper could have been home already; instead he was waiting on paperwork that hadn’t shown up. After everything, after Dmitri had all but promised it would from now on, it hadn’t shown up.
The thought was like a loose thread in his suit, and Casper pulled on it all through the day as he sat, and stewed, in his big office with its pretty view.
He should never have expected more from Hollyberry, that much was clear. Whatever had been in his voice, in his eyes, the last time they had spoken, hadn’t been anything. It definitely hadn’t been what Casper had hoped it was. If it had, Hollyberry’s paperwork would be here now, even if Hollyberry himself wasn’t.
Hollyberry was the slacker he had always been. Whatever his other qualities, his surprising empathy, his sharp mind, his hot and inked body, he wasn’t going to ever care about Casper. Casper was a fool for wishing.
At that thought Casper didn’t hesitate. Lumps of coal! he thought to himself. Even the Big Guy probably knew that Casper could have found the way to Gift Development without looking at this point. He stalked out of his office, jammed the gumdrop button for the elevator and stood, fuming, to the tune of the tinkling music inside as it carried him to the right floor.
It was late, even for elves, so Gift Development wasn’t as crowded as usual, but there were enough elves present to notice him and to stop to watch his progress with wide, wide eyes. Casper was this close to flipping them off, except that it was easier to glide forward and focus on h
is rage rather than see the amusement or disdain all over their faces.
He reached Hollyberry’s office and opened his mouth to yell the moment the door was open.
Then he went still. He froze really, falling to one side against the doorframe as all his breath left him.
Despite the noise of the door being slammed open, Dmitri didn’t stir. He was asleep across his desk, his head on his arms, smeared eyeliner on one arm. Casper finally shut his mouth, and then turned as Pinebough came up next to him. She had bags under her eyes and her clothing was wrinkled. He resisted the urge to point that out. It was the end of the day, after all, even Casper’s tie was loosened.
None of that excused sleeping on the job of course, but there was something about the gentle sounds of Dmitri’s breathing, the heavy exhaustion pulling him to his desk, that left Casper unable to think of one sarcastic word.
“It’s Weights and Measures,” Pinebough explained in a whisper, using everyone’s nickname for the Department of Lists and Judgment. “They changed their classification or standards or something, and dumped a million new requests on us this week. I guess a lot of names have been moved from Naughty to Nice, and the extra workload means most of us have been up for four days straight.”
Casper stopped, looking at Hollyberry while listening to him breathe. Four days without sleep was a lot, even for an elf. No wonder he was exhausted.
“He demands perfection in his work, you know,” Pinebough added, apparently in case Casper was going to argue. But he knew that too; he had played Dmitri’s video games.
He hesitated for another moment, and then stepped from the room, letting the door close after him. He twitched a frown onto his face and glared at Miss Pinebough. If she was worth her paychecks, which of course Casper had seen, then she should know how to do what he needed.
“Get me the end of the month reports, I don’t care what state they’re in,” he ordered, and then turned. He stopped in their break room, looking through their mugs until he found a clean one and then he filled it with the last of their coffee. Pinebough appeared in the doorway as he added truly frightening levels of sugar to it and stirred, but she didn’t speak. She had the necessary papers with her. Casper took them from her as he swept out. He pointedly ignored the surprise and delight in her expression.
Even accounting elves were committed to their work, non-creative he might be, but he had a heart. It shouldn’t be so shocking. He arched an eyebrow at the elves who watched him leave with coffee and billing notes in hand, and waited by the elevators without uttering a word, pretending his cheeks weren’t the color of a strawberry gumdrop.
He drank their coffee and did their books himself until well past midnight. And while he was at it, he sent down some notes on how to make this process simpler for those idiotic artistic types who couldn’t remember to keep their receipts.
It would make their lives easier, he told himself, and that made his life easier. That was all. It wasn’t as if he was picturing Dmitri dragging himself home every night, without anyone to see that he slept, or ate, or didn’t kill himself trying to ride his stupid skateboard while exhausted.
Why did he ride that thing anyway? To show everyone how different he was? It was ridiculous, Casper thought as he straightened the knot on his tie and finally headed out the door to get some sleep.
–
He received a note through the interoffice mail a few days later, along with a gift-wrapped video game—sheets and sheets of sharp-edged, colorfully decorated perfection that had to have been specially wrapped in the Wrapping Department. The tag was one simple, silver bell, and inside had been the newest edition to the series of video games that Hollyberry knew Casper played because he’d seen the collectibles in his office.
The game wasn’t even on the market yet. The tag read, “I see I finally made it off your naughty list.”
Casper hadn’t hesitated before jotting off a note to send back, though he had, of course, kept the game, “Accounting elves aren’t only numbers and spreadsheets, Mr. Hollyberry.”
He was hardly going to make someone work when they were dead on their feet. Even if that someone was an artist.
But naturally, Hollyberry hadn’t been able to leave it there.
His final note had read, “I’m beginning to see that. You’re as cranky as a polar bear and twice as fierce, but you’re all marshmallow on the inside.”
Polar bears were in fact quite well-behaved and friendly with the right owners. Casper had two himself, and Patuqun and Qani were the sweetest creatures in the world, so he had had no idea what to say to that. As for the marshmallow comment…. It was best not to think about while in the office. It apparently surprised people to find Casper glassy-eyed and blushing. He’d finally decided to say nothing.
It hadn’t mattered anyway, the next month’s paperwork had been sent up on time with no problems, and his suggestions had clearly been implemented, judging from the number of receipts that were not scrawled notes for inexact amounts or tallies that ended in “ish.”
He should have felt satisfied. There would be no more hassles. No more tense waits at the end of each month. No more humiliating trips downstairs that left him furious and hot all over and itching to have Dmitri look at him with something other than amusement or that twinkle in his eyes.
But with Gift Development finally cooperating, acknowledging him, even, possibly, respecting him, Casper finished his work early now, and walked home in the constant sunset, where he fed Patuqun and Qani and romped with them in the winter wonderland and came home again to defeat Dmitri’s newest game and go to bed.
Despite how he should have been content, and even without an imagination, as he fell asleep every night one thought drifted through his mind like the snow outside; now he had nothing to look forward to either.
–
The invitation arrived in the middle of November, probably to mock Casper for wishing for something to look forward to. The Big Guy had a way of knowing everyone’s secret desires, and had decided to give Casper two weeks to dread something.
Or he hadn’t, and the other elves had planned this nonsense as always, but the Big Guy would be there, and that was practically the same thing. Because even if he didn’t plan it, the Big Guy had a way of knowing things.
The Employee Appreciation and Yuletide Dinner was not an event Casper was fond of. He enjoyed wearing his ridiculously expensive but so butter soft and well-tailored it was worth it tuxedo, yes, but that was it. The rest of the evening was always about feeling invisible and antsy, watching artists, carpenters, and software techs get their awards, while waiting for food that came too late to prevent him from getting drunk off the eggnog he’d be sipping for hours to keep the boredom and hunger at bay.
This time was no different, except that instead of sipping the eggnog, he found himself gulping it down. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t the sequined dresses or ill-fitting rented tuxes, although looking at those did make his soul hurt. It wasn’t that he had a front row seat to the boring display—figuratively, as they weren’t actual rows, and he was seated at a table close to the dais. It wasn’t even that he was surrounded by the elves from Lists and Judgment though they could be, well, a little judgmental.
He thought, perhaps, probably, it was because this year he had a seat that put him directly in line to witness the spectacle that Hollyberry’s people were making of themselves. They had outdone themselves this year, it was true, and gotten quite a bit of recognition from the Big Guy, but at some point they’d started mixing sparkling hard cider with their nog and were being… quite exuberant. Especially Dmitri himself, who was almost respectable looking in his tuxedo, which wasn’t ripped, and though not as well made as Casper’s, fit him quite well. His bow tie was practically another collar. His hair was magical, like neon against the stark black and white. Dmitri wanted to touch it, maybe smear his eyeliner, and then rumple his tasteful, discreet tuxedo until his tattoos showed.
He took his mug and tipped it b
ack because those kinds of thoughts required more to drink. Then he refilled it. It wasn’t the first time. The Lists people weren’t happy about that. Casper smiled at them. Irking them was more entertaining than listening to same speeches over and over again. Appreciate… hard work… blah blah… Big Day… blah blah blah.
As invisible as this night made him feel, it wasn’t as bad as it must have been for the elves in Weights and Measures, who tended to not be very well liked. Most of them were decent enough, if stuffy. Casper had even had a brief fling with Arkady Sugarplums, though it hadn’t lasted. He was almost ready to reconsider it however, out of boredom and desperation and the faint hope he’d be able to drive a green-haired elf from his late night thoughts, and twisted to attempt a rather tipsy leer, which was returned after a startled moment, until Arkady glanced out into the rest of the hall and then quickly turned away from him.
