Work Text:
The bet had been a mistake. Isak realized this on the second-to-last day of the market, when he hadn’t sold enough of his stall's refreshments to beat Even. Across from him, in his own well-decorated stall, Even was steadily ringing up customers buying knitted goods: hats, mittens, socks, scarves. Isak could see Even’s inventory dwindling as he sold off display items hanging from the walls. He could hear Even gloating already, well in advance of their 8 o’clock daily tally. Which meant he didn’t hear the customer off to his right, who was trying to order sausages and hot chocolate. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry. Yes. Two of each?” Isak adjusted his Santa hat, fetched the sausages, and squirted whip cream into cups. After he rang them up, he checked his tally, then tried smiling at the few people passing by. He had to sell sixteen more to beat yesterday’s embarrassing total, and the pathway cutting between his and Even’s booths was simply not busy enough to give him hope.
The bet was stupid, anyway. They’d made it a week after the market opened, when Even had come over to buy a coffee from Isak at the end of the day. Isak had warned him it was going to taste like shit, but Even had just shrugged and smiled. Isak didn’t charge him for it, until Even had proposed the wager. “200 kroner to whoever sells the most this season.” They hashed out the rules (the bet starts now, a pair of mittens counted as one item, refills counted as a half-sale) and then Isak rang up Even’s cup.
“So far I’m winning,” Isak said as Even’s card beeped.
“So far.” Even smiled again, which looked like one hell of a challenge to Isak. He wanted to win, to wipe that smile off his face.
Because so far, Isak had never seen Even not smiling. That first week, Isak often looked over to Even’s stall, curious about the cute guy who was actually knitting between customers. He looked young enough to be doing this for the same reason as Isak: a seasonal job during university for extra cash. As Isak packed up the candy apples he got his answer though.
“I graduated in the spring, actually.”
“Oh. Cool. Is your…degree in…knitting?”
“Close. Fiber arts.”
“Oh. For real?”
The ever-present smile grew more. “No, I’m just fucking with you.”
They introduced themselves properly while Isak closed up, and then kept chatting while Even did the same to his booth. Between skeins of wool Even was applying for digital marketing jobs, to use his actual degree. The knitting was just a byproduct of his aunt’s sheep up north.
“So…this”—Isak pointed around the stall—“is from your aunt?”
Even scoffed. “Nah. This is all just mass-produced stuff. But I know how to talk about it as if my aunt has spent all summer knitting in a rocking chair in her cottage.” The smile turned into a conspiratorial smirk, and Isak quickly found a friend in the fellow salesman. They were both there to just sell generic Norwegian stuff to tourists and bored parents. Their little wager was the least they could do to make being trapped in a stall every day interesting.
It was a stupid little bet, until December arrived, and Even delivered robust tallies every night with a delightful smile. He bought a shitty coffee from Isak every night too, and that started to feel like pity. It made Isak wish he hadn’t made the bet at all, to save face and cash. But he kept going, hoping for…something. Waiting for snow.
Even gave Isak his usual nod right at 8 o’clock. Isak made his last cup of coffee and cleared the space on the counter where Even liked to lean. They greeted each other with their numbers. Even’s smile faltered a bit, which Isak thought was strange. “I thought you’d be happy, man. You’re clearly going to win.” He finished a can of squirt whipped cream by topping up Even’s cup, then chucked it in the trash.
“Yeah, because I really need that 200 kroner.”
“Well you still don’t have a job.”
Even flicked the mountain of whipped cream, sending flurries of white onto Isak’s red apron. Isak gasped, but quickly reached for the cinnamon shaker and shook a healthy dusting over Even’s head. Even just laughed and tried to lick at some that had landed on his nose. “But that reminds me,” he said gesturing to the speckled apron, “we didn’t get much snow this year, which kills the holiday mood. No one wants hot wine or sausages, and to sit by the fire. It makes sense that your sales are lower.”
“Oh but they’ll still buy a million mittens?”
“Of course. They’re gifts. People shop more for other people than for themselves.”
Isak was annoyed by how much sense Even made. He whipped off the apron and shoved it in his bag, recognizing the move of shamefully shoving cream-stained fabric away. He pulled off his hat and hid his face until his cheeks cooled down. “Anyway, what comes after this?” The bet was stupid because it meant the end: no more whipped cream, no more smiles. Even sipped and explained what he was pitching to the knitwear company, for online sales. Isak paid more attention to that than any university class he’d ever taken.
When Even finished his coffee, Isak pointed to the garbage can for his basketball shot. Then they switched over to Even’s booth. He had so little to clean up, but Isak got a glimpse of his latest project, still on the needles. “I know fuck all about knitting, but those mittens don’t look right.”
Even’s laugh was loud and full of delight, so nice to hear after the dreary market day. “They’re smittens. Meant for two people to hold hands.”
“Oh.” Isak tilted his head. Now they made sense. “That’s cute.”
“Not very practical, but that’s not the point of life.”
Isak nodded. Even stacked his last box and locked it away. Then he turned off the lights and stepped out the back, meeting Isak on the main path. They would only walk to the edge of the park before they would go separate ways, but they stuck together until the end.
“Better bring your 200 kroner tomorrow,” Even said as they slowed to a stop.
“Hey man, it isn’t over until it’s over. Maybe there will be a sausage convention visiting the market.”
“Oh, your mom is coming?”
Isak shoved him. “Fuck off!” he laughed. Even stumbled but recovered, his face glittering with glee. They managed an awkward wave in parting, and Isak watched until the night swallowed Even up.
“Don’t fucking say it,” Isak moaned when he saw Even approaching. Even’s smile made his stomach churn. The day had been warm, like the whole season, and the snow that had been predicted had so far held off. Not even last-minute shoppers could save his tally. Isak took off his apron and reached for his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll just send it now.”
Even recited his number and Isak added the contact. Then he transferred the cash to Even’s account. “There. Congratulations.”
“Oh, someone’s a sore loser.”
“Nah, I just love ending a rough season of not making enough money by paying someone else.”
“Aww dude, I can send it back.” Even immediately opened his phone.
“No, no.” Isak finally looked at Even. “I’m just being grumpy. It’s a fair bet.” He opened the candy apple case and pulled out a nearly empty tray. At least he didn’t have to throw too much inventory away, because they’d adjusted for the low turnout.
“You know…I only made the bet because…I wanted your number.”
The tray dropped to the floor. Isak dropped down with it.
“Are you okay?”
Isak heard Even’s panicked voice right over his head, which meant Even had hauled his torso over the counter. “I’m fine. I’m fine. These were garbage anyway.” He cleaned up slowly, hiding. “Um. But. Are you serious?” he asked the floor.
“About wanting your number?” Even’s voice drifted off and Isak stood up to chase it. Even was still there, though, his cheeks pink and eyes shy. “Yeah.”
“You…want…”
“I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”
“Oh.” Isak stood there like a dumbass, his hands full of candy apples. He didn’t know what to say when his dreams came true.
“Um. Hey. Let’s just clean up. And then…do you want to go ice skating?” Even pointed over to the center of the park. “No one is ever out there this late.”
“Yeah?”
Even’s smile grew the biggest Isak had ever seen. “Yeah.”
“Well I think we found out why no one is skating.” Isak dipped a toe out onto the ice and his boot sank into a puddle. “There is no ice.”
Even sighed. “Fucking Vinterland.”
Isak laughed and turned back to Even. “Hey. Don’t worry. Come here.” He reached out for Even and Even took his hand. His fingers were cold, but they had a strong grip. Isak stepped out onto the wet ice, and they shuffled to the middle of the rink, by the trees. Even dropped his hand and Isak turned. “I—I made these…for us.” He reached into a bulging pocket and wrestled out a pair of mittens.
“Smittens!” Isak laughed, when Even revealed the third shared hand. They were the pair Isak had noticed yesterday, now finished.
“They’re not blocked or lined.” He gave Isak the single one and they dressed their free hands. Isak admired the simple pattern, the time spent on them, the smiles from his booth.
“They’re cozy.” Isak watched as Even struggled with the joined hands. He couldn’t tell if Even was shaking from the cold or the logistics. But when Even got his right hand in and held out the floppy side for Isak, it was still trembling in the air.
“Sorry. I’m nervous.”
It was strange to see up close, after weeks of watching Even charm strangers, and himself, into holiday cheer. But it was endearing, seeing who Even was once the salesman was done for the season. “It’s okay.” Isak pulled the smitten on, finding Even, and they giggled as their hands played Twister beneath the wool. “Wait, no, I have to go on top. The front.”
“Oh, so—.”
“Yeah.”
When they figured out their comfortable grip, they shuffled close. “Hey,” Isak whispered. Even looked up, meeting his eyes. Isak took in the sharp blueness, the soft freckles, the lines that formed as a smile grew, before remembering he wanted to say something. “Um, the bet was, uh, a good idea.”
Even’s laugh was soft. Isak wanted to kiss it. “I couldn’t think of a good way to ask. And I was scared. If you said no at the beginning, then we’d be stuck looking at each other for another month.”
Isak shook his head. “I’ve never been so happy to lose.” He squeezed Even’s hand and shuffled backward. “Let’s fucking skate.” He pulled Even along and they navigated away from the trees, to other parts of the rink that were less melted. They slipped and laughed and reached for each other for balance, slowly heading closer to the ferris wheel at the other end.
Halfway there, Even almost fell, Isak catching him again. But Isak noticed, as they were bent over, that Even’s hair was dusted with snow. “It’s snowing!” He let his arm go slack and the ice splashed as Even dropped onto his ass.
“Fucker!”
“Sorry! Sorry!” he apologized through his laughter. “It’s snowing!” With a grunt he hefted Even to his feet again. Face to face, he watched snowflakes land in Even’s eyelashes and melt on his nose. “Finally,” he whispered.
Even took a careful step closer. “Finally,” he whispered back. Isak felt the word on his lips, and then he lost his breath in the kiss.