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"Ho ho ho," Serge walked into the living room with an exaggerated gesture, white bushy beard covering his face.
Tom laughed at the sight of a skinny (and hipster, for he’s still wearing his normal clothes) Father Christmas, very nearly spurt the beer in his mouth. “Where did you get the beard?”
"From the shop." He sat himself down on the sofa. "Now," he patted his thigh, "Do you wanna sit in Santa’s lap, little boy?" He said in a low Santa-like voice.
Tom grinned and immediately plonked himself down on his lap, one arm around Serge’s neck.
"Have you been a good boy?"
Tom nodded furiously like a child.
"Good, good. What do you want for Christmas, my boy?"
"An ET blanket!" Tom chirped with the cheerfulness of a 10-year-old.
"Consider it done!" Serge’s said in that rumbly Santa’s voice. "What else?"
"Else?? How many do I get, Mr. Santa?"
"Because you’ve been a good boy, I shall grant you three wishes. Ho ho ho."
"Three wishes! Are you a genie or Father Christmas?"
"I dabble." Santa-Serge answered confidently. He’s got that rare impish twinkle in his eyes that only appeared whenever he’s with Tom.
Tom burst into laughter. “Alright then, Genie-Santa. I wish us to head Glasto next year.”
Santa-Serge nodded like an old wise man. “Don’t you worry, my boy. Heading Glasto is definitely in your future.”
"Are you also a psychic then?"
"Like I said, I dabble. Now stop questioning my career, you cheeky bugger, and tell me, what is your last wish?"
Tom repositioned himself so he was now straddling Serge’s lap, pressing his body closely to Serge’s.
"I don’t think that’s how a good boy sit."
Tom grinned in response. “Can I tell you my third wish now?”
"Go ahead."
"Well, Mr. Santa," he wrapped his hands around the bearded man’s neck, "There’s this boy I like. Like, really like. And I just wish him to know how much I love him and how fucking happy I am to be with him."
Serge’s face turned to such bright scarlet that even his disguise couldn’t hide it. Tom pulled off the beard.
"You cheesy sod." Serge said in his normal voice and tilted his head upwards to kiss the man in his lap.
"Oh, and Santa?"
"Hm?"
Tom leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I lied. I’m definitely not a good boy.”
And Serge’s head fell backwards, a sigh of pleasure escaped his lips, as Tom started doing things that made him such a perfect naughty boy.