Christmas Eve

Tom signed up for the last available slot of the night to see Santa. He waited with the rest of the 5:30 group in the line that snaked through South Wing. Tom remembered coming to see Santa as a little kid with his mom. He was never impressed. He would make awkward small talk with Santa without giving his wish list. She had been open with him about who really made gifts appear, and it wasn’t some random dude up at the North Pole. His mom worked hard to buy her son Christmas gifts, and she deserved the credit.

Randall seemed like a Santa natural, despite not having the body type one would expect. Even though most people who sat on his lap were there not out of the holiday spirit, he put on his best Santa show, staying committed to the role. He asked them what they wanted for Christmas and sidestepped any come-ons. Tom recognized the buoyant energy of his voice from their conversations in their not-so-secret hiding spot and that night at The Wounded Soldier. “Ho Ho Ho” bellowed throughout the workshop.

Tom had spent his morning perusing job boards for any manager positions. It was pretty quiet on the job front, but he knew retail, and more positions would open up in January. People rode out the holiday season before moving around.

Kirsten had screamed out YES! when he told her the news. He knew Kirsten was a full volume person, but her reaction still surprised him. He gave her the international keep it down signal, since they were both on duty.

“I’m so happy for you,” she said.

“You are? I quit, and I don’t have another job lined up.” The reality hit Tom when he woke up. Any surge of excitement he had felt when he told Antonio had been smoothed down by a gust of fear.

“You’re betting on yourself.”

He liked how she put it. “I’m scared.”

“That’s natural. It’s good to be a little scared. Keeps things interesting.”

“Can you please not congregate?” Antonio said curtly. “We have customers that need to be attended to.” He only looked at Kirsten, then walked away.

She glanced at Tom, who acknowledged the awkwardness.

“On break, I’m going to want details,” she said.

Tom was next in line. Randall was mere feet from him, in all his Santa glory. Most customers didn’t take the time to notice the care and consideration Randall put into his job. Tom felt bad for them. Sure, they’d get to ogle his body, but they had no idea they were missing out on discovering his sense of humor, thoughtfulness, and a mind filled with fascinating historical facts. There was so much else he wanted to share with Randall besides sex.

“Do you know what you’re going to ask Santa for?” the elf asked him.

“Yes.”

“Good. It helps the line move faster.”

Tom was a little scared now. No, a lot scared. But Kirsten was right. It was good to be scared. Scared meant he was moving in the right direction.

The rope clinked open. Santa’s lap awaited.

Tom couldn’t make out Randall’s reaction to him because of the full Santa beard covering his face. Santa wouldn’t throw somebody off his lap, would he?

He took tentative steps forward. He remembered how the Santa suit scratched against his skin, how Randall probably had on a sleeveless T-shirt underneath.

“Hi,” Tom said.

“Hey,” Randall said uneasily.

“May I?” Tom pointed at his lap. “I don’t have to if—”

“Yeah. Sure. That’s why you waited in line.”

“Right.” Tom stood between his thighs and double-checked with Randall before lowering himself onto his lap. “Let me know if I’m too heavy for you. I don’t want to cut off your blood circulation.”

“You’re not.” Randall let out a short laugh. Tom wasn’t sure what was so funny until he remembered that he’d straddled Randall in his car. So yeah, Randall could handle him.

“Did you know that Franklin Pierce was the first president to have a Christmas tree installed in the White House?”

“I did know that,” Randall said.

“Oh.”

“So what would you like for Christmas?” he asked without much enthusiasm.

“I’m not a very materialistic person, but I gave it a lot of thought.” Tom’s chest vibrated with nerves. The fear rose up through his body, threatened to shut him down, but he powered through it. “I want you, Randall. I want you back. I might not have you for much longer, but I want us to spend whatever time you have left in Oakville together.” The fear tried taking over his mouth, tying his tongue down and cuffing his vocal chords, but Tom refused to stay quiet. “I didn’t mean what I said about you. I was scared that I actually liked you, because guys like you don’t usually go for guys like me.”

“Hot guys?”

“Good guys,” Tom said with emotion. “Guys who leave notes under drawers and actually plan out dates. Guys who I can’t wait to talk to when my shift is over and who treat idiots like me so well even though we probably don’t deserve it. That’s what makes you sexy.”

Randall remained stoic. His Santa beard hid his facial expressions.

“So you want me for Christmas?” Randall asked.

“Yes.”

“And after Christmas?”

Tom nodded. A simple yes would not suffice. Not even Kirsten’s screaming yes would.

“Even if I was permanently disfigured?”

“Yes. As long as there’s no blood. I’m queasy around blood.”

Tom pulled down Randall’s beard, where a big smile waited for him. He leaned in, wondering if Randall would lean, too. Their lips met and made Tom whole again.

“Hey! Hey!” The security guard ran over and yanked Tom off of him. “No kissing Santa! How many times do we have to tell patrons?”

“It’s okay,” Randall said to the guard. He turned to Tom. “This is not the first time someone has tried to put the moves on Santa this season.”

“I wasn’t putting the moves on Santa. We were reconciling,” Tom explained to the guard. “And in my defense, I didn’t use tongue.”

“No hanky-panky with Santa!” the guard said, not amused.

Too late for that.

The guard led Tom away from Santa’s Workshop.

“Wait!” he heard Randall yell.

Randall caught up to them. He kissed Tom on the cheek. “Maybe you can give me a ride home tonight?”

Tom couldn’t stop grinning.