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Happy Frickin’ Holidays
It had been Mark’s idea to go window shopping on Christmas Eve. Jack thought it was a ridiculous idea, given that all the shops would be packed with last-minute shoppers, and L.A. didn’t really have an abundance of light-decorated houses that they could look at.
“Please, Jack? It was a tradition my family always had,” Mark had pleaded. “I think it could be really fun.”
Jack had rolled his eyes. His family’s Christmas Eve traditions were to stay the fuck home and watch movies until bedtime, but it seemed like Mark was going to cry if he didn’t relent.
“Okay, fine,” he’d sighed, leaving Mark beaming with excitement. “But don’t expect me to have fun.”
Jack had gone in a T-shirt in protest, despite the fact that it was freezing outside, especially for California. There had been no snowfall (sadly), but the air was nippy and crisp, like the inside of a walk-in freezer. Jack didn’t know what he was thinking at the time, but now that he and Mark were walking around downtown inside of other hordes of people, he was absolutely frozen solid and wished for the sweet release of death.
Mark was wearing a fluffy Christmas sweater, and he was very smug about it.
“I told you you’d be cold,” he reminded Jack, wrapping his arm around his waist and pulling him in close.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the third time,” Jack grumbled, but he didn’t pull away. He needed the body heat.
They passed plenty of stores with Christmas tree and Santa Claus displays. Some of them were playing Christmas carols outside their storefronts, and they’d pass through a cloud of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” from time to time. Mark was as happy as a kid in a candy store, and Jack grudgingly admitted that this was sort of entertaining, despite the huge crowd.
If only he weren’t so fucking cold.
“Do you maybe wanna go in any of these places?” he asked at one point, his teeth chattering like a wind-up toy. “Just to, y’know, look around.”
“Don’t lie to me, doofus. You just wanna stand in a heated room,” Mark said shrewdly, grinning like a jerk. Jack smacked him lightly on the arm.
“Don’t look so fuckin’ smug,” he chastised, eyeing his Christmas sweater up and down. “At least I don’t look like a dingus.”
“Hey, don’t diss my ugly Christmas sweater,” Mark said, looking at his chest fondly. It was a black sweater festooned with sequined snowflakes and a bust of Rudolph, complete with a plushy 3-D nose. “I got it at Goodwill. It’s very high-end.”
“Oh yeah, so couture,” Jack played along. “Look, if we’re not goin’ in, can you hug me again? ‘Cause I’m about to freeze to the fuckin’ sidewalk.”
“How about this? I’ll even do both.” Mark wrapped his arm around him again and led him into the nearest department store, but he couldn’t adding on, “Just because I’m so kind-hearted.”
“Uh huh, right,” Jack scoffed jokingly, relieved to feel the heat blasting him above the door. “Ahh, thank God. Whaddaya wanna look at?”
“I dunno. Anything Christmas-y.” So they walked around, gazing at artificial trees and sparkling Santa Claus statues and wooden reindeer lawn ornaments that made Jack laugh. There was a singing Christmas tree hat that Mark insisted on buying, and he wore it as they walked around the rest of the store, playing its song until Jack finally threatened to shove it up his anus if he didn’t stop.
They passed the clothing aisle, and out in front were the hideous Christmas sweaters, displayed for the entire world to see. Jack shook his head disdainfully at the cartoonish Santas and the cookie-cutter reindeer and snowflake patterns.
“You’re such a Grinch,” Mark teased as he pawed through the designs. “Who wouldn’t want an ugly Christmas sweater?”
“Someone with dignity…and someone who wants to spend their money on worthwhile objects,” Jack retorted, but he didn’t mean anything by it. He couldn’t help chuckling at a red sweater with an elf flashing its bare butt on the front.
“I don’t think you should really be complaining, mister ‘I-left-my-sweater-at-home-because-I-didn’t-think-it’d-be-cold.’”
“It’s California, Mark! When is it ever cold?!”
They started to walk back towards the entrance, when suddenly Mark stopped and said, “Wait, I gotta go to the bathroom.”
Jack groaned. “Why didn’t you go before we left?”
“Because I didn’t have to go then, Dad!” Mark whined. “Wait here, I’ll be quick.”
“Ugh, fine.” Jack didn’t really mind, though; the longer he spent in the heat, the happier he was. He wandered over to the shoes and sat on one of the cushions, waiting for Mark’s return. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through Twitter, smiling at all his friends’ silly Christmas Eve selfies with hot chocolate and earmuffs.
Even though he was acting like a pessimist, Jack couldn’t wait for Christmas tomorrow. He’d gotten Mark a few things: the new Fallout, some cool sneakers, and a stupidly cheesy picture frame with a quote about love on it. He didn’t have a picture for it yet, and he was hoping they could maybe take one together. Maybe they’d even go get one done professionally. The thought of the two of them dressing in spiffy button-ups and taking geeky family photos together made his chest flutter for some reason. There was just something about Mark that made every nauseating romantic cliché seem…inviting.
Mark returned about twenty minutes later, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked adorable in the sweater, Jack had to admit. He’d never say it to his face though.
“Took you long enough,” he admonished lightly, standing up. They walked out together, and Mark revealed a shopping bag behind his back. He put on the singing Christmas tree hat, and Jack had to stop to put his head in his hands.
“Oh, shut up, it’s cool!” Mark laughed, turning on its song. “Jingle Bell Rock” began to play.
“Oh, God, fine,” Jack sighed. He began to bob his head to the beat.
“See? You like it,” Mark told him smugly, and Jack might’ve nodded if he didn’t shiver so violently. “You still cold?”
“Of course I’m still cold, Mark, it’s subzero out here!”
Mark’s smile softened, and he handed Jack the bag unexpectedly. “Here you go. Early Christmas present.”
Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion. He stared at the bag. “I thought all my presents were back at home?”
“I picked this one up on my way out. Open it already.”
Jack slowly reached inside and felt woolly fabric. Already smiling, he pulled out the sweater and couldn’t help laughing at it.
“Oh, dear God, you’re such a fuckin’ nerd,” he said lovingly, staring at the front.
“I thought it was perfect for a Grinch like you.”
Indeed it was. It was the Grinch himself, sitting with his feet propped up in front of him on top of his enormous sack of stolen toys, with the words “Happy Frickin’ Holidays!” typed in boldface to the left.
“I cannot believe you bought this,” Jack said in wonderment. He handed Mark the bag and pulled on the sweater over his head. It was a little itchy, but undeniably warm, and he rubbed his arms to make it work faster. “But thank you, really.”
“You’re welcome, babe. It was my pleasure.” Mark took his hand and kissed the back of it. “Merry Christmas.”
Blushing badly, Jack blurted out, “It’s not Christmas yet.”
“Then merry Christmas Eve, whatever.”
Jack giggled impishly. “Now you’re gettin’ it.” They stopped at a crosswalk, and he took the opportunity to plant a kiss on Mark’s cheek. Both of their cheeks turned a rosy red.