Matt rolled onto the bed beside Vic, his now limp cock weepy and wet where it rested on Vic’s thigh. Vic shifted to one side, letting Matt crawl into the space beneath him. Matt pressed his lips to Vic’s, biting once before succumbing to a kiss that pressed him back to the bed. “Love you,” he murmured into Vic. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say it last night.”
“You did,” Vic told him. At the confusion on Matt’s face, he added, “Just not in so many words, but I still heard it.”
Matt pulled Vic down for another kiss, and another, until a thin whine outside the bedroom door interrupted them. As Sadie began to scratch at the door knob, Vic joked, “So much for spending all day in bed.”
“As much as I love moments like this,” Matt admitted, “I’m lying in a pool of your spunk that’s slowly getting cold. I have to let the dog out, shower, change the sheets, do the laundry…”
Vic groaned. “Can’t I stay in bed?”
“Cook you breakfast,” Matt added. Playfully, he poked Vic’s belly. “Watching you eat will turn me on all over again. We’ll be back here before you know it.”
“We better,” Vic growled, kissing Matt behind the ear.
* * * *
When Vic left for work on Monday, he took the Santa suit with him. It was back in its plastic bag, though he hadn’t bothered to have it cleaned. It wasn’t really dirty and, besides, he didn’t think it was his responsibility to get it dry cleaned. It wasn’t like he volunteered to wear it, or anything.
It was quarter after ten in the morning when he pulled into a spot in the employee parking lot outside the bus garage. As soon as he turned off the engine, though, he glanced at the car in front of his and groaned. Waving at him from behind the steering wheel of an antique El Camino was Kyle Munley.
Vic couldn’t stand Kyle.
It was bad enough the guy was an annoying jerk who laughed at his own jokes. To make matters worse, he’d once dated Matt. Vic’s Matt. If Vic were being completely honest, he’d have to admit he first met his lover only because Kyle introduced them. Matt liked to say Vic stole him away from Kyle, though that wasn’t exactly true. To hear Kyle tell it, he was the one who hooked Vic and Matt up.
Regardless of how it really happened, Vic didn’t like to think of Matty and Kyle in any relation to each other. Matt was his, end of story. Kyle was just some idiot he worked with and tried to avoid if he could.
Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he could get away with ignoring Kyle today.
As Vic climbed out of his car, he avoided looking around. Grab the Santa suit, head inside, he thought. If I don’t look at Kyle, maybe he’ll get the hint.
But really, why should he? He hadn’t yet.
“Vic!” Kyle cried, slamming his car door. “Didn’t get a chance to say hi at the dinner Saturday. You make a sexy Santa.”
“So I’ve been told.” Vic locked his car and turned away from Kyle, hoping his coworker wouldn’t follow him.
No dice. Kyle fell into step beside Vic—they were both heading for the garage, why not walk together? I’ll tell you why, Vic thought, but despite his unfriendly scowl and fast step, Kyle kept pace with him easily.
“At least I got a chance to reconnect with Matt,” he said, oblivious to the effect his words had on his coworker. Vic’s jaw clenched, his teeth gnashed together, and his hands tightened into fists at his side. “God, he’s looking great. You really snagged a winner there. If I hadn’t set you two up—”
“Kyle,” Vic warned.
With a laugh, Kyle shrugged off the anger in Vic’s voice. “No need to thank me, bud. You two are perfect together. Hey, Matt told me about your rings. When are you tying the knot?”
Vic rolled his eyes. Great. Vic had agreed to a small ceremony at some point, but now Kyle would want an invitation. “We haven’t decided yet,” he said. So much for something quiet between he and Matt.
“Are you doing a full wedding?” Kyle asked. Before Vic could remind him they lived in Virginia, a state that didn’t yet allow gay marriage, Kyle slapped Vic’s arm as an idea gripped him. “Wait, who’s your best man? Eh? Eh?”
He held out his arms as if offering himself up to Vic for the position. “Think about it!” Kyle said.
Oh God, no, Vic thought, pulling away from Kyle as they neared the garage. If this was the way it’d go down, Matty could have the damn ceremony without him.
It wasn’t until he passed the open door to Morrison’s office that he remembered the Santa suit, still hanging in the back of his car. Damn. If he went back for it now, he’d be late clocking in.
Fuck it. He’d return the suit after work or, if he forgot it then, there was always the next day. As long as he handed it in before he was off for the holiday, he didn’t think Morrison would mind.
* * * *
Vic’s usual bus route took him by the mall at Willow Lawn, down Broad Street to Libbie Avenue, then back up Monument. Midway through his shift, he saw a handful of passengers waiting at the bus stop on Broad and pulled to the curb to let them on. While he waited for the fares to settle, he noticed the white, pink, and blue sign of Baskin Robbins up the street. Despite the chilly December weather, there were quite a few cars in the parking lot.
Someone had mentioned Baskin Robbins to him recently. Had it been Matty? Vic couldn’t quite remember. Maybe his lover had mentioned ice cream at some point…
His thoughts turned to the dinner Saturday evening—thank God he hadn’t seen Kyle then. The guy must’ve pestered Matt at some point when Vic was busy playing Santa. Why Matt had even mentioned the possibility of a commitment ceremony to his ex-boyfriend was beyond Vic, but knowing his lover, he probably wanted to show off his ring. Matt was always quick to remind Kyle just how good he and Vic were together.
Brucey, Vic thought suddenly. That’s who had mentioned Baskin Robbins—the little boy whose sister was thrown off her horse. She was in a hospital nearby…Brucey said they always stopped for ice cream when they visited her.
Working for the city bus had its advantages—Vic knew the area like the back of his hand. Bon Secours had a hospital just off Bremo Road, one traffic light down from the intersection of Libbie and Monument.
Of all the children who told him what they wanted for Christmas the other night, only Brucey had asked for something for someone else. “Don’t forget to take her presents to the hospital instead of to our house.”
The words ran through his mind like a snippet of song he couldn’t shake. The more he tried to put them aside, the more they barged into his consciousness, demanding his attention. He wasn’t Santa. Brucey was only six—if he were older, he’d know better than to expect Vic to visit his sister in the hospital. Besides, she was already twelve. She couldn’t possibly still believe in Santa Claus, could she?
Matty did until he was sixteen, he reminded himself.
That brought a smile to his face. What the hell…he still had the Santa outfit, didn’t he?
* * * *
Throughout the rest of his shift, he tried to talk himself out of it. The girl really was too old for Santa. What would her parents say? Her father in particular…if word got around the garage that Vic had used the suit to play Santa on his own, how would Morrison react? What would the other guys say? The whole thing was stupid really. He should just turn the suit back in and go home.
Only he’d already made up his mind, whether he knew it or not. After work he clocked out and headed for his car, but instead of taking the Santa suit back in to his boss, Vic sank behind the wheel and started his engine. It wasn’t too late—a little after eight in the evening, plenty of time to swing by a department store for a few gifts. Something with horses on it, that’s what her brother had said. And maybe a handful of other toys, too, in case he chanced across any other kids spending the holiday in under a doctor’s care.
Hell, it was Christmas. Vic could remember all too well the way his sister’s eyes used to light up when she found the presents he’d put under the tree for her. It
wouldn’t take much time out of his day and it’d brighten someone else’s. How could he not do it?
The Target at Libbie was still open when he pulled into the parking lot. Horses must’ve been popular with the kids—every aisle in the toy section carried something horse-related. Vic picked out a few items he thought children would like, Legos and Barbie dolls, a few comic book action figures. Then he found it, the gift, the one any twelve year old girl would love. A stuffed pony easily two feet in length, with a yarn mane and tail that could be braided, its legs tucked beneath it so the animal could sit on a bed beside its new owner. They came in several colors, but Vic liked the russet pony with the white mane and the star-shaped spot on its forehead. Tucking it under his arm, he hefted the handcart full of toys and candy and headed to the registers.
On the way to the hospital, it occurred to him he didn’t know what room she was in. Carlson, that was her father’s last name; Vic just hoped it was hers, as well. He parked in the hospital deck and, in a shadowy corner where he could keep an eye on the stairs, Vic changed from his work clothes into the Santa suit. He didn’t have a pillow to pad himself with this time, so he balled up his work shirt and pants, shoved them into his belt, and pulled his Santa jacket down over the bulge.
This is stupid, he told himself.
Stupid or not, he was already doing it. Too late to turn back now.
The things he’d bought filled several large shopping bags. Throwing them over his shoulder, he locked his car and hurried down the stairs before he could change his mind.
He’d hoped by this hour of the evening, few people would see him. But the garage exit was near the emergency room area, and a small crowd milled around outside the waiting area, smoking or waiting for their rides. Vic hoisted the bags he carried and pulled his face into the tough guy expression he wore when he didn’t want to be bothered. Don’t say a word, he prayed as he trouped past a half-dozen stares. The first person who laughs or says anything inappropriate…
He never got to finish that thought. A child’s voice cried out into the night, “Santa! Mommy, it’s Santa Claus!”
Someone else took up the cry. Vic heard the sound of sneakers running on the pavement and turned to find a handful of children racing behind him. Their eyes shone as they grinned wildly at Vic. “Santa, Santa,” they chanted. When Vic stopped, they plowed into his legs and almost toppled him to the ground in their excitement.
Reaching into one of his shopping bags, Vic began pulling out the toys he’d bought. Little hands stretched up to grab anything he offered—candy, dolls, stuffed animals, puzzle books. Each item he held out was snatched away as soon as it cleared the bag.
When one bag emptied, Vic backed up toward the sliding glass doors leading to the hospital’s lobby. “Ho ho ho,” he cried, still feeling a little silly. No one seemed to notice—the kids were opening their toys, already playing with them. “Merry Christmas!”
A shout resounded through the night as the kids, their parents, and the other adults waiting outside joined in. “Merry Christmas, Santa!”
Inside the hospital lobby, Vic was greeted with more smiles and laughter. The receptionist beamed at him as he approached. “Hello Santa,” she tittered. “Aren’t you a little early?”
She was older than Vic, with kind eyes and a grandmotherly air about her. Leaning onto the counter, Vic hefted the remaining bags of toys. “Can you help me? I’m looking for a Tammy Carlson…I work with her father.”
“Oh, is he an elf?” The receptionist laughed at her own joke.
Luckily, she didn’t seem to expect a response. Before Vic could answer, she started typing on the keyboard on the desk in front of her, turning to peer at a computer monitor hidden beneath the countertop on which Vic leaned. “Ah, there she is. Room 612. It isn’t the children’s ward…”
Vic caught the look she threw at his bags. He still had plenty of toys inside. “I’ll stop in there first. Can you direct me?”
Her smile widened. “I’d take you myself if I wasn’t chained to this desk. Third floor, take a right when you exit the elevator. Ms. Carlson’s up on six.”
* * * *
It was still early enough that most of the children were out of their rooms, playing or watching television in a large common area at one end of the hall. When Vic stepped out of the elevators, he caught sight of a little boy in Transformers pajamas who’d just stepped out of his room. He stared at Vic in surprise, mouth open, eyes as round as saucers.
“Merry Christmas,” Vic said. He was exhausted from a long day of work and the suit he wore itched. He didn’t exactly sound jolly to his own ears—the best he hoped for was not his usual gruff self.
It must’ve worked. Like a spell, his words freed the little boy from where he stood rooted in place. “Santa!” he cried, launching himself down the hall toward Vic. Then, in mid-stride, he reversed and headed in the opposite direction, arms waving as he called out to his friends, “It’s Santa! He’s here! He’s here!”
Bemused, Vic followed the boy into the common area. Dozens of children stopped what they were doing and turned. For one breathless moment, Vic stared back.
Then a cacophony erupted. “Santa!” came the cry as the kids surged toward him. Vic dug into his shopping bags and handed out toys indiscriminately. “Santa!”
It didn’t take long for the bags to empty out. When all that remained was the stuffed horse he’d bought for Tammy, Vic ho ho ho’ed his way back to the elevators and up to the sixth floor. With something akin to relief, he rested his head on the elevator panel, finally alone. One more, he told himself as the lift rose. Then it’s home to Matty and out of this damn suit once and for all.
Or, let’s be honest, until the next time Morrison asks me to wear it.
When the elevator doors opened a second time, there were no children lingering in the hall to catch Vic’s arrival. As he headed down the hall, reading the room numbers, he heard the familiar voice of an excited little kid. “And then he gave me a present, and it was a little bus like the one Daddy drives, and he knew my name, so that’s how I know he’s the real one.”
Brucey. Of course her family would be visiting, despite the late hour—it was the holidays. Following the little boy’s voice, Vic found the room he wanted. Well, this is it, he thought, taking a deep breath. He dropped the empty shopping bags in the hallway and extracted the pony he’d bought. Then, holding it out like an offering, he entered the room.
Brucey sat on the end of his sister’s bed and saw Vic first. “Santa,” he gasped in awe.
The mother turned from the chair she’d pulled up beside her daughter’s bed. She recognized Vic and smiled. Behind her, Tammy struggled to sit up enough to see around her mother. It was the pony she saw first—her mouth widened in a bright smile and her eyes shone the same way Mary’s used to when Vic used to surprise her on Christmas morning. He could see reason warring with childhood innocence in those eyes. Santa didn’t exist, she knew, he couldn’t, it wasn’t possible…and yet, here he was, giving her the most perfect present ever.
And maybe, Vic thought, just maybe, that was all Santa really was—not any one person but each person, every time a gift was given without needing something in return. Maybe he’d been playing Santa for years, much longer than he’d ever realized it, first for his sister, then for Matty, now for that silly dog of theirs. He didn’t need a red jacket or fur-hemmed pants or a red hat and white beard. It was him regardless, a feeling within him, all year long. The desire to give to those he loved the things they needed and wanted, things they didn’t pay him back for, things they didn’t ask for.
Things he wanted to give them, everything he could, anything to make them happy. To make them feel loved. That was what the holidays were about. Love.
* * * *
By the time Vic got home, it was later than he realized—almost quarter to eleven. He should’ve called Matty after clocking out, should’ve given his lover a head’s up that he wouldn’t be coming straight home. Still dres
sed in the Santa suit, Vic parked in front of his apartment building and reached into the back seat for the shopping bag he’d saved that now carried his work clothes. Santa might be a bit rotund, but Vic had found it hard to steer around the large belly. The bag rustled as he trudged up the steps into the building.
Inside, the bag made so much noise, Vic was surprised his neighbors didn’t open their doors to see what the racket was all about. He hurried up to the second floor, which he shared with Matt. On the landing, he unlocked the door to his apartment and eased it open. “Matty?” he called.
The foyer was empty. As he stepped inside, he could see the dog dozing on one of the wingback chairs in the living room. She raised her head to look at him, saw the Santa hat, and growled menacingly from where she sat.
“Lazy mutt,” Vic chided, dropping his bag of work clothes to lock the door behind him. “Sit there and growl? That’s how you protect us from intruders? That’s real effective.”
A low snort from the living room silenced him. He kicked off his shoes and left them in the corner by the closet, then peeked into the other room. “Matty?”
His lover lay on the sofa asleep, wearing only a pair of worn boxer shorts and a faded old T-shirt of Vic’s. One hand was draped across his stomach, the other flung over his head against the arm of the sofa. Matt’s face was half-buried against his bicep and, as Vic watched, he snored lightly and turned a little toward the back of the sofa, snuggling into a better position.
God, he looked gorgeous.
The lights on the Christmas tree alone illuminated the room—Matt liked to turn out all the lights and let the tree sparkle whenever he could. The twinkling lights danced over Matt’s burnished skin, enhancing the shadows pooling under his dark hair. His features were strong and relaxed, innocent almost, though Vic could see a hint of mischief in the way the corners of Matt’s mouth curved ever so slightly. He wanted to delve his hands into the depths of those wild curls, smooth his thumbs over those fluttering eyelashes, kiss the corners of that wicked mouth until he tasted all the secrets Matt kept there. Mine, he thought, studying his lover’s slim muscles and lithe form as Matt slept. The boxers and T-shirt hid little of the sexy body within their cotton confines, and when Matt shifted again, the fly on the boxers gaped, giving Vic a hint of the treasure that lay within.
Santa Vic Page 4
