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As they’re passing the hat around the room, Arin’s just praying he gets someone easy. Danny, maybe, or Suzy. He watched as Ross, sitting next to him, picked a name out of the hat and unfolded the paper, and of course, Arin tried to lean over to see. Ross stuck his tongue out at him, nudging him away with the heel of his hand to Arin’s forehead. “It’s Secret Santa,” he said as he tucked the piece of paper into his pocket. “That means it’s a secret.”
“You’re no fun. You probably got yourself.” As Danny presented him the hat, Arin closed his eyes, making a big dramatic show of rifling through the remaining papers.
“Oh my god, just grab one,” Danny said.
Just for that he rifled around a few more seconds -- then took one, unfolding it and letting out a relieved breath: Suzy. The easiest person in the world for him to shop for, and it’d serve as a nice thank you to her: about a year ago they’d had ‘the talk’ about his sexuality and she’d been as supportive and understanding as he knew she would be. They didn’t have to be together to love each other; some things were just simple like that. As he had the thought, his gaze flickered back to Ross, who was hopping off the couch and heading off back to his ‘art closet’.
And some things weren’t just simple, like that.
*
They were having an unusual cold snap, and Arin, being Arin, came to the Grump office woefully unprepared. Every time he’d gone outside he’d come running back in a few minutes later, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them and almost plunking them down on the heater itself before Danny pushed him out of the way, calling him crazy and asking if he’d really like to have third degree burns. “You won’t be able to hold a controller,” he’d added. The horror of that kept Arin away from the heater after that, but still, it was freaking cold. At the end of the workday and with a sense of growing dread at facing the outdoors, Arin walked into his office to collect his things -- and stopped short, seeing a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a pair of mittens.
Ugly mittens. Bright green with a bug-eyed cartoon of Rudolph, a red pom-pom nose attached for the nose.
But still, mittens all the same. He laughed, pulling them on. “Thank you, Santa!”
Of course, he wondered as he sipped the hot chocolate on the way to his car, now he had to figure out who his Santa was. Suzy? It’d be a sweet thing for her to do, but Arin thought she’d have gone classier if it was her: some fancy type of gloves from some costume-type designer he’d probably never heard of. Danny? No, if anything he’d prank him by giving him fingerless gloves. Ridiculous and over the top pointed to... maybe...
He fumbled with his keys.
It couldn’t be.
“Nah,” Arin said to himself, getting in the car.
If it was really Ross, he would’ve gotten him a frozen coffee and mittens stuffed to the brim with ice cubes.
*
The next morning, he walked in to what he was pretty sure was an *NSYNC song blasting -- and Ross dancing around a Christmas tree.
Ross didn’t dance. In fact, Ross didn’t usually come out of the art closet at all these days, let alone dance around Christmas trees, in a cute green Christmas sweater and jeans that were a little too tight on his skinny frame, hugging him around the hips and drawing Arin’s attention every place it really shouldn’t be. He snapped out of his staring when Danny approached Ross, ruffling his hair and saying something like “so crazy” before attempting to steal an ornament out of Ross’s grip. Ross gave it to him, but then grabbed a long trail of tinsel and threw it around Danny’s neck, making the other man laugh.
The tug in Arin’s stomach knotted like that mess of tinsel probably would in Danny’s hair. “What’s going on?” he finally said, announcing his presence.
Ross bounded over to him with a ridiculous bright pink garland, throwing it over Arin’s head. “Christmas!”
Okay, Ross was glowing, the usual pink in his cheeks a cheerful red, and Arin bit his lip, forcing himself to keep this light. “A boyband Christmas, apparently.”
“My Secret Santa gave it to me. I figured I'd assault everyone’s ears with it, unfair not to share.”
“Are you a Secret Santa or a secret goblin?”
“I am the best Secret Santa. I torment with excessive Christmas.” Ross grinned, then gestured down to Arin’s hands. “Nice mittens.”
Arin glanced down, hoping his cheeks weren’t turning a color to match Ross’s. He hadn’t even really needed them, it’d gotten warmer out again, but. “Thanks.”
Ross went back to Danny, whispering something to him that got another laugh, then they both went back to decorating the tree. Arin hesitated a moment, then decided to join in --
and regretting it, when Danny’s singing along to the music got joined by Ross’s off-rhythm caterwauling of “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays”.
*
That night, he found a leatherbound journal and a set of fountain pens on his desk, along with a note:
sometimes you’ve got to accept it’s okay to be happy again. and go for what you want. you always wanted to write a story. do it and be happy.
Arin read the note over a few times. ‘Go for what you want’. Was his Santa just talking about writing, or something else?
It was true, that in addition to his nine million other projects, Arin harbored a secret desire to write a novel. And his normal attitude toward anything he wanted to do was to jump in with both feet, go for it, failure and consequences be damned, but this was one of two things that’d always felt different. Like he’d only have one shot, and if he messed it up, if he didn’t do it perfect, it’d be gone and ruined and he’d never have the chance again.
Two things. Writing, and...
Go for what you want.
He’d seen Ross on the way back to his office. Taking a nap in one of the giant oversized beanbag chairs, the lights from their newly decorated tree casting rainbows across his pale skin.
He could’ve gone back out there, woken him up, offered him a ride home, offered to talk, confessed...
Arin scooped up the journal and the note, snapped the light switch off, and left.
*
Arin walked around the next day humming ‘Merry Christmas Happy Holidays’ and only caught himself when Ross walked by and winked.
“This is your fault!” Arin yelled out after him.
Ross cackled. “Blame my Santa!”
Arin, of course, made it his mission to hunt down Ross’s Secret Santa. It didn’t take long: Danny wilted under the impressive force of his terrifying glare.
Or, well, more like as soon as he’d grumbled “stupid catchy *NSYNC” Danny had collapsed on the couch in hysterics.
“Why would you give that to him?” He launched a pillow at Danny, missing by a mile.
“I told him it would drive people crazy,” Danny said. “A trolling Ross is a happy, engaged Ross.”
That gave him a moment of pause. “You did it to get him to stop isolating himself?”
Danny nodded, his expression turning more serious. “He’s been... making himself lonely since everything happened this past year, with, you know.”
He did know, the thing Ross refused to talk about, that none of them spoke about -- out of respect for Ross’s feelings.
“But he’s been feeling better,” Danny continued on. “I think he just needed to give himself permission to feel, well.” His gaze went away from Arin, toward the wall. “Anything.”
The horrible clawing in Arin’s stomach returned with abandon and he opened his mouth to ask, then closed it again. No. No, if he asked that question, if he found out something, if he found out what Danny was talking about was Ross feeling something toward Danny, he’d never be able to sit in the same room with either of his best friends again. And fuck what it’d do to the business, that’d be nothing compared to smashing Arin’s pathetic heart into a million pieces. “I’m glad he’s feeling better,” he said instead, reaching over for the controller. “C’mon, we better start recording.”
*
He found a dropped slip of paper in the kitchen when they breaked for a snack, in Danny’s handwriting:
feel the love in the room from the floor to the ceiling.
Arin excused himself to go home early, promising to make up the rest of the recording tomorrow.
*
When tomorrow came, it looked like a craft store threw up in his office.
The walls were covered in star-shaped lights, a sprig of mistletoe hung over his chair, there were pennies and dandelions in their white puffy stage strewn on the floor, and, somehow more inexplicable than the rest, a set of birthday candles (thankfully unlit) pressed into his favorite kind of pastry on the desk. “What the...” he sputtered, his heart fluttering in his chest as his brain tried to make sense of the chaos. That fluttering rocketed up to straight up threatening to crash out of his chest when he heard a voice behind him:
“Make a wish, Arin.”
He turned around. there stood Ross, a slight smirk to his expression even as his eyes betrayed shyness.
Dandelions. Stars. Pennies, like for a fountain. Birthday candles. Of course.
(Though it didn’t explain the mistletoe...)
“Are you my Secret Santa?” Arin said, keeping his tone light and casual. “I thought that was supposed to be a secret.”
“Maybe I’m tired of secrets.”
“Are... are you?” He laughed and then winced, hearing how high and wobbly it rang out. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ross took a step closer. “Make a damn wish, Arin.”
He could be reading this situation entirely wrong, this could be a joke, any minute Ross was going to burst into that classic ‘gotcha’ cackle of his and--
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Had he made his wish somehow without realizing it? and did wishes come true, because otherwise how the hell had Arin ended up in his office chair, Ross in his lap and straddling his hips, Ross cupping his chin, Ross leaning in, Ross’s warm soft lips meeting his in the kiss he’d wished for in a thousand different ways and at a thousand different times? Arin wrapped his arms tight around his waist, pulling him closer, keeping him there, just in case he was asleep and he was going to open his eyes and find he wasn’t within a wish, but a dream that’d disappear away.
He opened his eyes.
Ross was still there, his own eyes closed, his long eyelashes dusting over his skin, that Arin had to just sneak in a kiss to, before time ran out.
Before they had to actually talk about this.
Ross made a breathless sound, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Sorry. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“I thought.” Arin swallowed against the dryness of his throat. “I thought that, you and Danny...”
“I told Danny.”
Arin had to smile, sliding a note of teasing into his voice. “Oh? What did you tell Danny, exactly?”
Ross’s eyes fluttered open to meet his own in a glare. “I have to kiss first and confess first?”
All right, fair enough, Arin couldn’t argue there. “It just never felt like the right time. Not for me, I mean, but for you. I didn’t want to push you.”
“You didn’t even tell me you were, y’know. Into guys.”
His smile turned a little crooked. “If I told you I was into guys I would’ve just ended up spilling everything.”
“That’s true,” Ross said. the smirk came back full force without any shyness now. “I am just that completely irresistible. Men’s secrets just fall at my...”
Arin made like he was going to push him off the chair, catching him at the last second as Ross flailed and yelped.
“Not funny!”
“Really funny.” Arin touched his forehead to Ross’s. “You’re lucky I’m big and strong to keep you from falling.”
Ross’s expression softened. “No, not really,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t keep me from falling.”
Arin just had to kiss him for that again.
After all, they were still under the mistletoe.