by Cooper, R.
Casper sighed. Even the Lists and Judgment elves didn’t want him. He rubbed at his very, very warm face and took another long drink. He ought to stop; he was going to wake up hungover and he still had to get the end of the month reports in. More than that, he was going to wrinkle his tux, which was being wasted if no one would look at him in it.
If anyone had ever asked him what he wanted in his stocking, he would have said a way to opt out of this crap every year. Or… He looked over again, watching the creative team drunkenly high fiving their boss and… and was that a grope?
Casper forgot his secret wish list and focused on the good cheer and merry measure in front of him. There was no need for them to repeat their famous hijinks from a few years ago, which had involved too much mistletoe and… well, Casper would never think of a one horse sleigh the same way again.
The department had won another award it seemed. Not a surprise. They deserved it, but they didn’t exist in a vacuum. They’d earned it on the backs of the other departments, even maintenance. The superstars could at least have said thanks, or admit office drudgery was hard work that not everyone could do.
He heard Dmitri’s voice as he had the thought, not sure that it wasn’t a nog-created delusion. But he searched out Dmitri in the crowd and found him. Even surrounded by eager elves pressing closer, his voice carried.
“…Of course we’d be nothing without our support services.” He wasn’t even talking to Casper, couldn’t know he could hear him, but Casper straightened, frowning at the quick beat of his heart in his ears that didn’t let him catch the rest of what Dmitri said.
He nearly glanced at the Big Guy, but didn’t dare; he didn’t want to know if his wishes had been read, and at the moment he couldn’t take his eyes off Dmitri anyway. Then the hysterical laughter from the rest of Gift Development sank in, and Casper felt himself flushing and swaying to his feet.
“You wouldn’t even have a department if it weren’t for us fudging pencil pushers and bean counters and desk jockeys and whatever else you fudging want to call us!” he spat out, and then stopped in horror. Had he shouted that? Was the Big Guy looking at him? Was he swearing?
There was a small sound, like an aborted attempt at applause. And then someone sneered, not far away. “Yeah, right.”
“But Casper’s right,” Dmitri started, only to stop when Casper turned to him. He shut up, but there was a familiar light in his eyes. “I mean Mr. Silverbell,” Dmitri finished, nearly smirking, and an elf like him should never put on a tux like that. It was statement was what it was, a statement just for Casper, the one person here with taste enough to appreciate it.
So he liked to watch things explode, did he? Casper thought, forgetting all about whether or not he was shouting or swearing. He felt like could get spit fire. He finished his nog in one swallow and slammed the mug down but it did nothing to quench the flames. The hall might have gone quiet; Casper didn’t care as he waved at his table, and the tables of the other “support services.”
“I–we—don’t need your damn, fudging praise, Hollyberry. We’ve managed fine without you just fine so far. For centuries even. And we can keep on like that indefi… indefinitely.” Not that he wanted to. He tugged at his bowtie, pulled it loose, popped a button. Dmitri’s breath actually hitched.
Someone else gasped, like Casper had gone too far with his language. It made him want to swear again. Something really un-elf-like. Something human. Something Dmitri might appreciate.
Casper looked right at him and licked his lips while he thought of exactly what he might say and what Dmitri would say in return.
Then there was a pointed cough from the dais.
Casper stopped, swallowed, and realized he might be sick, right there, in front of everyone. With embarrassingly slow and clumsy steps, he backed up, leaving the room in its rather stunned silence and heading out into the cold to clear his head.
The dim light and freezing air were breathtaking, but the borealis was glorious and shimmering above him, making the snow indistinguishable from ivory frosting. He got out the door and moved to the side, leaning with his forehead against the wall.
After a second he straightened his tux. No matter how drunk he was, his beautiful tuxedo didn’t deserve wrinkles.
“I had a feeling that you’d let loose like that. Though I pictured a bigger explosion.”
Dmitri. Of course he had pictured more, with his boundless imagination.
Casper closed his eyes. “Go away. Go bask in your glory. Leave me here to die in agony.”
“Dramatic aren’t you?” Dmitri seemed pleased. Casper frowned against the wall. “How much nog have you had, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Suddenly the mention of eggnog made Casper want to throw up. “Enough.” But he cracked one eye, then slid around to put his back to the wall before he opened the other eye.
Dmitri was close. “Listen. I’m sorry about that in there. We, most of us, really do appreciate the work you do.”
“I’m sure.” Casper didn’t bother with wrinkles this time as he stepped forward. “That’s why you’ve forced me to come down to your office every month for the past ten years. Pull the other one, Mr. Hollyberry.”
He got yet another odd look for that one. He was getting sick of those too. But Dmitri took another small step closer then stopped to lean against the wall. His hands were on either side of Casper.
“I thought you enjoyed that as much as I did. You seemed like you did, though I admit I don’t know Pole elves well, and this has gone on longer than I’d thought it would.”
“You…you enjoyed…?” Casper was willing to admit he’d had too much to drink because that made no sense. “You’ve been driving me—damn it, stand up straight! Could you fudging act like you’ve reached a quarter of a millennia, please?”
Dmitri’s eyes narrowed, but then he glanced up, and, shaking his head, smiled.
Casper had about half a second to see Dmitri getting closer, that his eyes were twinkling and his lips were still curving up, and then Dmitri’s mouth was on his, and his hands were settling gently on Casper’s face to hold him still though Casper wasn’t moving. Of course he wasn’t moving, except to slide forward, and then he was shivering at the combination of hot and cold, and cashmere, because the punk had chosen luxury fabric, cashmere, there was cashmere against his hands. And beneath that was Dmitri Hollyberry. Dmitri, who was kissing him and breathing hard and pausing to say his name before kissing him again.
They were body to body, the space between them burning in defiance of the chill outside. Casper made a sound. He would have been embarrassed if he’d stopped to think about it. He was sure of that at least, but only that, because then Dmitri licked his mouth open and pressed him back into the doorjamb and his kiss this time was not so gentle. The building, their air, smelled like sugar and ginger, spicy, but no amount of spice could make it as hot as the thigh pressing between his, and Casper made that sound again as he slid his hands up to Dmitri’s shoulders so he could stay on his feet. He thought it was a plea.
Dmitri groaned, a small, aroused noise that took a second to register because it was muffled against Casper’s lips, because the slide of his tongue was surprisingly patient, almost tortuously so.
Fudge that.
Casper slid his hands up to that bow tie that wasn’t that collar and tugged insistently, nearly dying when he was immediately pushed back by his lapels against hard gingerbread and kissed until his mouth felt numb, until he couldn’t breathe, and Dmitri was gasping his name against his mouth, pulling in air only to kiss him again.
“Casper. Casper. Look at you,” Dmitri murmured in a familiar, rasping voice, full of wonder and beauty bright.
When Casper could see the Northern Lights even with his eyes closed, when he was hard and his secret wish wasn’t so secret, he slid his mouth away to pant against Dmitri’s rosy cheek. He curled his fingers, realizing as he did, too late, that they were currently in the process of exploring the front of Dmit
ri’s tuxedo pants.
It was almost frightening how he wasn’t sure exactly when that had happened, how he wasn’t sure of anything anymore but where Dmitri was touching him.
He held still for another moment, but there was only heavy breathing from Dmitri, so he pulled his hand away, resolutely ignoring the burning outline imprinted on his palm and how Dmitri lowered his head to rest it against his shoulder.
“What was that?” Casper asked at last, not quite prepared for how Dmitri straightened when he spoke.
“If you can’t tell, Casper, you’ve been alone in that office too long.”
Casper immediately bristled, feeling himself go utterly cold inside when Dmitri grinned and pointed up. Up, to where a sprig of mistletoe had been placed outside the door.
Of course, Casper thought, without much fire at all, without anything but a kind of dazed horror. He was never having a nog binge again. He pushed away from Dmitri—from Hollyberry—to jerk at his clothes, his wrinkled, wrinkled from Dmitri’s hands, tux. He felt the pounding ache of frustration in every inch of his body, especially a particular few inches.
“Casper.” Dmitri’s voice was rough, but Casper couldn’t look at him. He felt pathetically obvious in how much he wanted Dmitri. Dmitri knew it now, if he hadn’t already. Which he might have, Casper now realized, and grew even colder.
“You’ve had your fun at my expense, as usual. I think we’re done here.” He was surrounded by snow and for the time in his life, it made him shiver and wish he lived somewhere nearer to the Equator. He crossed his arms and raised his chin. “From now on, I expect your paperwork in a timely manner.”
“Oh really?” Dmitri didn’t budge. He was frowning, truly frowning, at Casper’s expression, or maybe his words. “That’s it? Casper Silverbell has spoken?”
“Do we really need to see more of each other?” Casper managed. Ice and snow had nothing on him. But if anything, Dmitri just looked even more pissed off, and then determined.
Casper reminded himself he didn’t care what that was about.
Dmitri considered him for another moment. Then he shrugged. “Not if you don’t want to,” he agreed easily enough, and inexplicably, Casper felt thrown. If he didn’t want to?
“What?” He swallowed the taste of eggnog, this time from Dmitri’s mouth. “What do you mean?” he started to demand, only to be confused again when Dmitri straightened his bowtie and looked right at him with that damn twinkle in his eyes. Casper scowled, and felt a tiny, thin, rush of heat return to him. “Take me seriously.”
He stepped in, his mouth open to tell Dmitri Hollyberry exactly what he thought of him, only to realize exactly what that was. He shut his mouth.
Dmitri looked amused, as always, but his sigh was tired. “It means use your imagination, Casper.”
“I don’t have one, as you well know,” Casper snipped, whisper quiet.
“I don’t know that actually.” Dmitri leaned in, his breath warm, his words slowing. “But okay, it means I take you very seriously, Mr. Silverbell, and I’ve been wishing….”
“What?” Casper couldn’t help asking, his cheeks hot as the doors swung open and he had to step sideways to get out of the way. He saw the jolly red and white outline of a full-figured man and heard, dimly, over his internal embarrassment, the Big Guy explaining that Dmitri was urgently needed inside, something about making a speech. He didn’t give Dmitri a chance to put it off but shoved him through the door. Then he looked at Casper.
Casper straightened.
“You’ve been very good this year, Casper,” Santa murmured, his mouth a droll little bow, his cheeks roses, his dimples merry.
Then, laying a finger aside of his nose, and giving a rather broad wink, he left, and Casper realized, with complete and utter mortification, that the Big Guy had known his wish after all.
–
It was impossible to get any sleep after that, but work was work, and it was the end of another month, and so exhausted, hungover, and sexually frustrated, Casper came into work anyway.
Most hadn’t bothered. But it was an important time for him and staying at home would have meant more dwelling on that kiss, and what Dmitri had meant. Casper loved math, but thinking about Dmitri made him long for a bit more imagination, because all he could think was….
No. No matter what the Big Guy had hinted.
So for the entire day he’d stayed in his office, drinking coffee and reviewing each department’s paperwork.
Every department but one. He wasn’t sure if he was more hurt or angry, but he definitely wasn’t waiting or lingering until the afternoon in case a binder from downstairs might appear, perhaps carried in personally. When it was finally sent up, via the mailroom, he furiously jammed it in at the bottom of the pile and refused to look at it for another few hours.
He thought that he should allow Gift Development’s budget get filed as it was and let that department panic when they received no funds for the next month. He would watch them freak out and storm into his office as they realized how much they needed him, an accountant, to watch over them. But that idea seemed childish in the extreme and he’d had enough embarrassment to last for a few decades.
But when there was nothing else to do, he opened up the binder. Then he stared, and blinked, and then stared again. He pulled out his glasses and put those on, but the information in front of him did not change.
A moment after that and he was on his feet and out the door, disbelief, shock, and total fury carrying him to the elevator and making sure he barely paused when the doors opened to let him out into this floor of Gift Development.
Of course none of them had come in today. The floor was empty except for an unsurprised-looking Miss Pinebough.
“Mr. Silverbell,” she greeted him with a smile, and then grabbed her purse and hightailed it to the elevator. Casper nodded in return and carried on.
He slammed Dmitri’s office door open and heard it hit the sugar glass and then swing closed behind him. Dmitri was at that magnificent desk he kept well-polished yet buried in crap, working for once, and Casper stalked over to him and dropped the binder. Then he flipped through it and yanked out some papers to wave in the other elf’s face.
Dmitri, very slowly, pulled a candy cane from his mouth and set it down on the desk. The sticky sweet scent in the air did not soothe Casper’s nerves. Neither did the way Dmitri licked the taste from his lower lip as Casper raised his voice.
“Did a child do this math? Were you out of crayons?” he accused as scathingly as he could. “As if I needed any further proof of how little you think of me and what I do!” With a flourish, he handed the papers over.
Dmitri took them. Without looking away from Casper, without taking his intense, shining gaze away from Casper’s face, he tossed the papers onto his desk and then reached over to hand a different binder to Casper.
With a huff, Casper took it. He had to tear his eyes away from the infuriating curve to Dmitri’s full lips and the memory of them on his to glance through the binder. He flipped through it, all the while realizing quickly, if still furiously, that it was same paperwork, but filled out correctly this time. Beautifully and anally put into proper sequence and filled in with such an attention to detail that any other day, he might have sung in exultation and repeated the sounding joy.
But he looked through it, checking it twice, making sure every ‘i’ had been dotted, every ‘t’ crossed. He shook his head in confusion and then slammed the binder down anyway. It felt good.
“What are those supposed to mean? You did it wrong on purpose? I swear you like to make me see red!” He stopped to gasp at Dmitri’s sudden, blinding smile. “You like to make me see red!”
The twinkling eyes. The heavy breathing and close talking. The smiling. Oh dear. It was all adding up very clearly, and in the right column this time.
“You might think you’re lacking in imagination, but I think you make up for it in other ways. And if you pretend you don’t know what that means,
it means you’re smart, you’re sincere, and you’re very pretty when you’re angry,” Dmitri spoke at last, and Casper knitted his brow.
“Lacking!” He repeated in a huff, equator-hot all over as he ignored every ridiculous word and how it made heart go rum-pa-pum-pum in his chest. “I beat your new game in a matter of hours.” He’d been up all night, but Dmitri didn’t need to know that. In fact, Dmitri immediately sat up, unhappy for perhaps half a second and then grinning again.
“Of course you did.”
“Don’t patronize me, Hollyberry!” Casper crossed his arms, messing up his tie.
“I’m not. Lumps of coal, but you’re a touchy little smart ass.” It was absolutely horrible how Dmitri said that, like he found it endearing.
“I’m losing my mind and my temper and you! You find it….” Casper stumbled and Dmitri leaned back.
