“Of course the oven is on. It has been pre-heating for ten minutes.”
“Maybe turn the temp up? Blast those mofo’s!”
“Mom, language!” Bryce heard his mother’s voice exclaim from the background.
“Oh, hush, Berni. I’m old. I’m allowed to curse if I want.” To Zef, Nan said, “Don’t stress about the cinnamon rolls, Zef. By the way Bryce is looking at you with googoo eyes right now, I don’t think he cares if they melt.”
Both Bryce and Zef straightened, the Mantodea spinning around with a cry of dismay as Bryce fought a blush at being called out. They stared at each other for several long seconds before Zef mumbled a quick goodbye to Nan and disconnected the video call.
“You cannot be here yet. I am not prepared!” they said, their lower hands fiddling with the tie of their fluffy, pink robe. Their hair was in another messy braid, the tail dangling over their shoulder as numerous flyaways framed their angular face. The barbs of their feet tick, tick, ticked against the tile floor as their antennas wriggled jerkily.
They looked frazzled, which wasn’t a word Bryce could often use to describe them, and it was… It was just so darn cute.
“Morning, Zef,” he said with a soft smile. “Merry Christmas.”
“Christmas is canceled,” they proclaimed, somewhat childishly. “Nan has sabotaged your breakfast. I accidentally knocked the altar, causing several figurines to fall over, and now, the magical baby is broken! And I am not wearing the traditional celebratory garb. We must postpone.”
Knowing better than to laugh at them when they were upset, he fought his amused grin as he approached the oven and peeked inside. The cinnamon rolls did look rather goopy, but he figured they just needed more time to bake. Baby Jesus in his manger was split in half on the counter, but it wasn’t anything super glue couldn’t fix. As for the traditional clothing, Bryce wasn’t even sure what they were talking about. He was still in his flannel pajama pants and an old t-shirt with a hole in the left armpit. Zef’s robe didn’t feel out of place.
“I bet if we turn up the temp a bit, the cinnamon rolls will plump right up. If you want to go get changed, I’ll glue Jesus back together, then brush my teeth. We can do presents and drink coffee while we wait for breakfast,” he said gently, resisting the urge to rub Zef’s arms in reassurance. “We don’t have to cancel Christmas. If anything, things not going according to plan is pretty on par for human holidays.”
After a moment of consideration, they relaxed slightly. “What if we are late to Oliver’s Christmas party?”
“It’s barely nine A.M. and the party doesn’t even start til three. I think we got time.”
Barely mollified, Zef wiggled their shoulders in the Mantodean version of a shrug. “Well, you are the Christmas expert here, I suppose. If you wish to proceed, I will go change.”
“Sounds good.”
Before they left the kitchen, they paused at his side, their shoulder within kissing distance of his. “Merry Christmas, Bryce.”
“Merry Christmas, Zef.”
With a small smile, they ducked their head and shuffled to their bedroom. They reappeared before Bryce even had a chance to pick up the twohalves of baby Jesus, carrying a canvas bag. Setting it on the kitchen island, they patted it twice.
“Nan said you did not bring your traditional Christmas clothing with you, so I ordered you some when I purchased mine.” Their wings buzzed in excitement as they pushed the bag across the counter. “I checked your laundry to ensure I bought the right size. I apologize for the invasion of privacy, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”
They didn’t wait for Bryce to respond, leaving the bag in the center of the island as they returned to their room and shut the door. A little worried now, Bryce dragged the bag over the marble and peeked inside. There was a lot of red and white. Had Zef bought them Santa hats?
He glued baby Jesus back together first and left him beside the sink to dry as he took the bag with his “Christmas clothing” back into his room. After he brushed his teeth and used the toilet, he turned over the canvas bag and emptied it onto his bed. A flat package slapped onto the mattress as a Santa hat fluttered to rest beside it.
Warily, he flipped the plastic package over to see what lay inside. An honest-to-God Santa costume. But not just any Santa costume. Zef had bought him a sexy Santa costume.
Oh God, they’d used the internet unsupervised again, hadn’t they?
As sexy costumes went, it wasn’t terribly flashy. The red vest lined with white fur had no buttons or fastening, meant to lay open over Bryce’s bare torso, and the hat didn’t say anything offensive or suggestive. And the bottoms were a simple pair of red shorts, not briefs or skimpy underwear, thankfully.
But, damn, if they weren’t short. Like,reallyshort.
They were never going to fit, he reasoned as he tugged them up his thick thighs. Against all rhyme or reason, they did. But good Lord, they were soshort. Little, red booty shorts designed for twinks or gym rats. Not chubby boys like him.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The undersides of his butt cheeks were drafty when he moved, and his big, hairy belly was on full display under the vest. He looked, in a word, ridiculous.
He’d halfway removed the vest, intent on changing into a hoodie and jeans before he remembered Zef’s excited expression as they patted the bag. They were trying so hard to give him the perfect Christmas, and they’d be crushed if he told them these clothes weren’t actually a traditional holiday outfit.
They were already upset about the cinnamon rolls and the broken nativity figurine. Bryce couldn’t bring himself to destroy another one of their hopes. Which meant he was going to have to wear this, at least for the duration of the morning. For Zef. He could survive a few hours of embarrassment for Zef.
Plus, they’d be wearing the same thing, right? They’d look ridiculous together, and there was something kind of wonderful about that.
