Sure enough, Kyle did, his laugh tilting his head back, and the curve of his mouth and the sparkle in his eyes was a delight to see.
"The ones in cartoons do," said Kyle, smiling. "Are you hungry?"
"Getting there," said Clayton. "But I really wish you'd let me help. I make a mean grilled cheese."
"Maybe tomorrow," said Kyle. "The plan is to finish stringing the popcorn, have waffles, and then put the popcorn strings on the tree with a nice fire going."
"I could bring in wood, if you'd let me." Clayton's offer was in earnest. He couldn't stand the thought of not helping, not after all that Kyle had done for him.
"You could if you borrow my coat and bundle up," said Kyle, though he looked dubious at Clayton's ability to follow even this simple condition.
Obediently, Clayton did as he was told, putting on Kyle's much thicker, much more winter-hardy coat, and then the borrowed hat, scarf, and gloves. Lacing up his boots, he stepped out into the blowing wind and snow, ducking his head and holding his breath for a minute while his body adjusted to the temperature.
The cold outside was a stark contrast to the warmth inside, and the sky was growing dark, with only a grey-purple smear where the sun was going down to indicate which direction was west. All else was a shifting, dull white whir of snow with the wind gusting hard, trying to steal his breath away. Briskly, he grabbed an armful of wood from the pile on the side of the house and dumped it on the concrete steps. Then he grabbed another armful, and put that on the step, so they wouldn't run out.
Pleased with himself, he used the heel of his hand, protected by the glove, to scrape most of the snow off the logs. By the time he opened the door, he was cold from his knees down, which was the only part of him not covered.
Without thinking, he opened the front door as if he lived there, and felt the warmth of the interior of the house flash outat him. It felt so good that he sighed in pleasure as he piled the logs in the foyer before coming in himself, closing the door behind him.
The sight of the Christmas tree all lit up was the same, but now, more, he knew what was on offer. Soft Christmas music, the scent of oranges and cloves, the lights on the tree, the gold and silver garland. And Kyle puttering around as he laid presents beneath the tree. Also, something in the kitchen smelled mighty good.
"What are you making?" asked Clayton as he stomped the remainder of snow from his boots and hung up his borrowed outdoor things. "It smells amazing."
"I told you, waffles," said Kyle. He turned to look at Clayton, smiling. "But I've folded egg whites with vanilla and a little bit of sugar, that's what makes it smell so nice."
"I'm impressed," said Clayton.
He came into the living room in his stocking feet, enjoying the sensation as the outdoor chill was replaced by indoor warmth along his legs. The tree drew his eye, now that it was plugged in with all the white lights blinking, and the star on top glittered. Then, seeing the presents up close, he realized that one had his name on the tag.
"Is that for me?" asked Clayton. "But I don't have anything for you."
His jaw worked as he contemplated the idea of being so rude as to have not brought something, even though there was no way he could have known where he'd end up.
"I'm just giving you my presents for Brent and Richard," said Kyle. His voice was obviously meant to be soothing, and he reached out with another one of those long, slow pats to Clayton's shoulder, where his hand lingered, leaving a trace of warmth. "They have everything, you know, and I'll just get them something else later."
"But I don't haveanything—" Clayton stopped, unsure how togo on. He couldn't insist on getting Kyle something, too, when there was no way, no way inhell, he could get to the store in time. He was stuck here with empty hands.
"You brought meyou," said Kyle, his eyes soft as he looked up at Clayton. "I mean, you brought me a guest for the holidays. You let me give the knife back to you without being mad about it. You brought in firewood. You're eating all the food that I bought."
"That hardly seems like a gift foryou," said Clayton. "More like a gift for me."
"It's a gift for both of us," said Kyle, deciding. "I like to eat too, and having a guest lets me do something fancier than I normally do, so don't worry about it, okay?"
It didn't seem like the discussion could do anything but escalate into something more heated, without either of them being able to do anything about the situation. Clayton let himself be led into finishing up the popcorn strings while watching the second run ofA Christmas Carolwith Mr. Magoo. Then he let himself be talked into doing a quick load of laundry, once Kyle found out, somehow, that Clayton was running out of clean clothes.
"I thought I'd be at Sarah's by now," Clayton said.
"We'll you're here now, and the washer and dryer are in that little room off the kitchen."
Clayton insisted on doing his own laundry and wore his sweatpants and t-shirt while everything dried. Then it was agreed that he could wash those in the morning.
This activity involved way more discussion than Clayton was used to having about laundry, but it made him smile to watch Kyle earnestly point out the settings and dials on his space-age looking washer and dryer. Normally he'd tell whoever was showing him this that he wasn't a fucking idiot, but with Kyle, it felt better, nicer, to nod his head and just let the demonstration happen.
When supper was ready, they sat down in the warm, bright kitchen to eat the most brilliant waffles Clayton had ever tasted. Kyle had told him the secret was to fold in egg whites with vanilla extract and sugar, and he was surprised that such a simple addition to the batter would make such a difference. Clayton shook his head in amazement and ate three waffles covered in butter and real maple syrup, and had a stack of bacon all to himself.
"We can have eggnog and rum while we put the popcorn strings on the tree," promised Kyle. "And eat more freshly made popcorn, of course.”
Which was the only reason Clayton didn't havefourwaffles covered in butter and real maple syrup.
