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“Fucking Amazon,” Tim said as a greeting, plopping down across from Alex, who didn’t even bother looking up from his phone as he slid the pint of lager he’d ordered for Tim across the table to him.
“Hello, Tim, nice to see you, too,” he said, something pointed in his tone.
Tim pulled a face, aware as he was that Alex couldn’t even see it. “Yeah, whatever,” he said, before repeating, “Fucking. Amazon.”
Alex finally looked up at him, amused. “Is this your way of subtly hinting that your Christmas present for me will be late this year?” he asked, reaching for his own beer to take a sip.
“Very astute, Horne,” Tim said, unwinding his scarf from around his neck and balling it up to toss it in the corner of the booth, sweating already from the rapid change in temperature from the winter weather outside to the toasty inside of the pub.
Alex let out a small, unreadable hum. “It’d be more astute if you didn’t do this same routine every year.”
Tim scowled. “I don’t do this every year!”
“Mm.”
Tim’s lips twitched. “Nine out of ten, maybe.”
Alex laughed. “We’ll go with that.”
“Don’t see why you’re so smug,” Tim pointed out, taking a swig of lager, “considering I don’t think I got my Christmas gift from you until mid-January.”
“Well, for once, I have your present already,” Alex said. “I have everyone’s, really. Quite an easy year this year.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Right, so what free tat are you giving us all, then?” he asked, semi-resignedly.
Alex scowled. “Not tat,” he corrected. “Beer.”
Tim blinked. “You’re giving me beer for Christmas?”
Nodding, Alex raised his pint in a mock-toast as if to demonstrate the present for him. “You and everyone on my list besides Rachel and my father-in-law, because he doesn’t like beer.” He scrunched his face up. “And the kids, of course.”
“Why are you giving me beer?” Tim asked.
“Oh because I got loads of it for free,” Alex said brightly, “from the brewery that did the beer for the Taskmaster Experience. More than I can drink on my own, at any rate.”
Tim nodded slowly. “Shame Robins stopped drinking, he could’ve helped you offload some.”
Alex shook his head. “They’ve an alcohol free version, actually, but yeah, best not.” He shrugged. “He and I are going golfing after Christmas anyway, so that’s his gift.”
“And I get beer.”
“Well, it’s beer or nothing, so if you’d prefer—”
“Didn’t say that, did I,” Tim said quickly before changing the subject. “What are you getting Greg?”
Alex’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?” he said, cupping a hand around his ear as if he hadn’t heard Tim.
Tim rolled his eyes. “Greg Davies, you twat.”
“Knew who you meant,” Alex said, “but did you miss the part where I said I’m giving beer to everyone on my list?”
Tim paused, his own beer halfway to his lips. “So Greg’s getting beer, too?”
Alex gave him a flat, unamused look. “Fairly certain that’s what ‘everyone’ means, Timmy.”
There was just enough of an unspoken warning in his tone that TIm probably should have left it alone, but Tim hadn’t learned that lesson in twenty-odd years of friendship and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. “But you always…”
He rather deliberately trailed off, and as expected, was treated to Alex’s scowl in response. “What?”
“You always get the gel something special, don’t you?” Tim asked, almost innocently, before fluttering his eyelashes and adding, saccharine sweet, “Because you’re in love with him.”
Alex wrinkled his nose. “Don’t like when you say it like that.”
Tim rolled his eyes again. “Mate, I’m not the one with a near decade-long crush, now am I. I think my tone’s about the least of your concerns.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “No, you’re the one with a crush on about seven different barmaids that you’re too frightened to talk to, save for through oblique poetry posted on instagram.”
Tim must have really hit a nerve for Alex to have a go at the old instagram poetry. “Fuck off.”
“Am I wrong?” Alex challenged, arching an eyebrow in a move he’d almost certainly picked up from his aforementioned crush.
“Am I?” Tim shot back, matching his tone.
For a moment, Alex just stared at him, but when it came to waiting him out, Tim would always have the upper hand, and eventually Alex shrugged uncomfortably and looked away, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I may have, in the past, given Greg something more meaningful for Christmas, yes,” he allowed, though he added stubbornly, “Because of our close working relationship.”
“Strange way to say because you want to fuck him,” Tim said grinning, pausing when Alex glared at him. “Or is that the problem? Do you no longer want to fuck him? Or did Rachel revoke your, erm, what do they call it, hall pass?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Alex said crossly.
Tim grinned. “Too late for that.”
Almost certainly despite himself, Alex honked a laugh. “You said it, not me.”
But Tim was not so easily deterred from his original question, and he leaned forward. “So what’s the deal?” he asked. “Why are you no longer trying to subtly hint to Gigantor that you want to do the ol’...?”
He let out a low whistle and made a gesture like he would in No More Jockeys to indicate a snooker player (or sport person in general. They really weren’t all that specific after a certain point of drunkenness). Alex didn’t smile at the reference. “Perhaps because, like in snooker, I took my shot.”
Tim’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. And?”
Alex just shrugged. “And this year he’s getting beer like everyone else.”
He said it with an air of finality, as if there was a world in which Tim was going to just let it go at that. “What happened?”
Alex shook his head. “Nothing happened.”
Tim frowned. “Something had to have happened.”
“It didn’t,” Alex said, almost curtly, or at least as curt as he was likely to get. “That’s the problem.”
Tim’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”
Alex gave him a smile that looked rather more like a grimace, showing off the gap between his teeth. “Bit of an understatement there, really.”
“Fuck off, Al, you can’t just drop that and then not tell me what happened,” Tim said impatiently. “Or didn’t happen. Or whatever.”
For a moment, it looked like Alex might again try to dismiss the whole issue, but inevitably, he realised that Tim wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon, and he relented. “Fine. Last Christmas—”
Tim sniggered. “Let me guess, you gave him your heart, and the very next day, he gave it away?”
But Alex just glanced at him and away again. “Yes.”
Tim’s smile faded. “Wait, really?”
Alex shrugged. “Sort of,” he said, scrubbing a hand across his face before telling him, “Last Christmas, I gave him a box.”
“A box,” Tim repeated.
Alex nodded. “It was a fancy box, for his cufflinks, because he’s always taking them off and putting them down and then losing them.”
As serious as the situation apparently was, Tim couldn’t quite keep the mock-derision out of his voice as he said, “So you gave him a box.”
Alex scowled at him. “It was a nice box, ornate, and– you know what, I’m not defending the box, the box isn’t the point.”
Tim smirked. “Go on then, let’s get to the point, box boy.”
“Box boy?” Alex repeated with a somewhat startled laugh.
Tim considered it for a moment before saying with a giggle, “Matt Hanbox.”
Alex honked another laugh, covering his face with both hands. “Bloody hell,” he sighed, his voice muffled.
“Hands off your face,” Tim said, before prompting, “So you gave him a box…”
Alex lowered his hands, suddenly serious. “And the box has a secret compartment,” he continued. “And I wrote him a letter telling him how I feel, and I put it in the secret compartment, and I gave it to him—”
He broke off, and Tim leaned forward even more, almost on the edge of his seat. “And?”
Alex leaned forward as well, and Tim leaned even further forward, until both were practically meeting in the middle of the table like some sort of twerpy game of chicken. Alex grinned, though it was short-lived. “And nothing,” he said with a shrug, sitting back down again. “And he never said a word about it.”
Tim squinted at him. “Maybe he didn’t think to check to see if the box you gave him for his cufflinks had a secret compartment because unlike you, he’s not an absolute twerp?”
“I did think of that,” Alex said. “Which is why I asked him about the box when I saw him a few weeks later.” He grabbed his pint, draining it in one long gulp before telling Tim, his voice just slightly hoarse, “And he told me that he regifted it.”
Tim sat back in his seat, stunned. “Christ.”
Alex glanced at him and away again. “I mean, it was a very funny story, in his defence—”
“Only you would still be defending him at this point, mate,” Tim muttered darkly.
“But it doesn’t really matter, anyway,” Alex said with a sigh, and Tim looked sharply at him.
“Why not?”
Alex shrugged. “Because it doesn’t really matter if he read the letter or not, does it?” he asked. “He still gave away the gift that I got him. And I suppose that’s an answer in and of itself.”
Tim frowned. “Only if you want it to be.”
Alex pulled a face. “Hm,” he hummed in that inscrutable way of his. “Well, this year, he’s getting beer. Just like everyone else.”
He again said it with an air of finality, and for once, Tim was going to let him have the last word. For the moment, at least, though he still couldn’t help but add, more to himself than to Alex, “Right. We’ll see about that.”
“Is your mouth broken?” Greg demanded as soon as Alex opened his front door after an unceasing three minutes of ringing his bell.
Alex stared up at him, mouth hanging half-open. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and managed, “Sorry?”
Greg glared down at him, his breath fogging in the cold air as he continued, “Only I don’t particularly appreciate having one of your annoying friends set on me when you could’ve just said something yourself.”
“I genuinely don’t know—”
To Alex’s shock, Greg held up the box he’d given him the previous Christmas. “Had to drive all the way to fucking Wem to get this back—”
Alex blinked. “I—”
Greg ignored him. “And the worst part is, I’ve no clue why, or why you didn’t say something the eighteen times I’ve seen you this year if it was that important to you.”
Alex finally managed to drag his eyes away from the box to blink up at Greg. “You got it back?”
Greg’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I got it back,” he said impatiently, “because Tim fucking Key rang me and shouted at me over the phone about how I’m a heartless knob, which is pretty rich coming from him of all fucking people, so I went to my mum’s, I got your twerpy little box, now are you going to let me in and explain to me what the fuck is going on?”
On instinct borne from generations of British middle class politeness alone, Alex took an automatic step back to let Greg in, even though he felt like he was about three steps behind and trying desperately to catch up. “Tim rang you?”
“Yeah, without so much as a hello, how are you, happy Christmas, whatever,” Greg said grumpily, stomping inside. “Just, Greg, you’re a dick, get Alex’s pressie back before I drive to South London and smack you.”
“Tim threatened to hit you?” Alex asked, amused despite himself.
Greg’s lips twitched and he scratched his beard before relenting, “Might’ve added that bit. But he did threaten me, though he was somewhat vague about the specifics.” He shrugged. “Figured it wasn’t worth the risk in any case.”
Alex shook his head slowly. “And you drove all the way to Wem just for this?”
“Of course I did,” Greg said, exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Tim said your feelings were hurt and I’d fucked up somehow.” He shrugged. “I may not understand why and would love an explanation at some point, but yeah, I drove to Wem for that.”
“For me,” Alex said, mostly because he still couldn’t quite believe it.
Greg gave him a look that was half-amused, half-about ready to throttle him. It was a look Alex knew all too well. “For you and your obsession with this fucking box, yeah.”
Alex knew that he owed Greg an explanation, though he wasn’t entirely sure how to begin. So he settled for changing the subject, switching gears to being a proper host. “Sorry, er, may I take your coat? And would you like something to drink? Rachel and the kids are out but, erm, I could always—”
“Only thing I’d really like is for you to tell me what the fuck’s going on,” Greg interrupted, even as he unzipped his coat and handed it to Alex.
Alex hurried to hang Greg’s coat on the hook in the hall. “It’s just– there was a bit more to it, is all.”
Greg frowned at him. “More to what?” he asked. “To the box?”
“Ye-es,” Alex said, drawing out the syllable, because it was true, even if it wasn’t quite the truth.
Greg turned the box over in his hands, his frown deepening. “What, like a secret compartment or something?”
He said it jokingly, but Alex just nodded. “Exactly.”
Greg stared at him. “Mate, how the fuck was I meant to know that?”
It was, honestly, a very fair question, and Alex flushed slightly as he shrugged. “I just assumed you’d think I’d give you something more than a box for your cufflinks,” he mumbled.
“For my cufflinks that I’m constantly losing, and continue losing since I didn’t even get to use the damned box?” Greg asked pointedly. “I thought it was a lovely, thoughtful gift from someone who knows me quite well.”
Alex jerked a nod. “Right.”
Greg sighed and ran a hand across his mouth. “Course, I should have guessed you’d be a proper fucking arsehole about it.”
“Probably,” Alex agreed.
Greg squinted down at the box, which looked tiny in his massive hands. “So it’s got a secret compartment, eh,” he muttered, more to himself than to Alex. “Now how do I– ah. And then it– I see.” The secret compartment in question sprang open, and Greg lifted the folded piece of A4 out, looking from it to Alex. “What’s this, then?”
Alex blushed crimson. “Oh, erm. You don’t– you should, ah, read that later.” He cleared his throat. “At home. When you’re alone.”
“Think I’ll read it now, if it’s all the same to you,” Greg said, handing the box to Alex, who almost dropped it.
“Right,” Alex muttered, glancing around as if he could find a way to disappear on the spot. “I’ll just, er…”
Greg ignored him, unfolding the paper and looking down at it. “‘Dear Greg—” he started, breaking off to smirk at Alex. “Strong opener.”
Alex winced. “I really would rather—”
Again Greg ignored him, instead continuing to read aloud, “‘Dear Greg, Happy Christmas. I know this box isn’t exactly exciting, as far as presents go, but the older we get, the more practical gifts end up being. Besides, I wanted to get you something to make your life a little easier, mostly as an excuse to make your life harder.’” He gave Alex an exasperated look. “Fucking Christ, mate, it’s like a fucking riddle.”
He didn’t wait for a response, which was for the best because Alex wasn’t entirely sure he was capable of speech at that point. “‘Because it’s Christmas, and because I’ve been putting it off for far too long, I just wanted to tell you that—’” Greg’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”
Again Alex winced, his heart sinking to somewhere around his ankles. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, I suppose,” he mumbled, resolutely refusing to meet Greg’s eyes.
All the better to not see the pity that he could so clearly hear in Greg’s tone. “Oh, mate, I didn’t know—”
Alex swallowed. “I know you didn’t—”
“And fuck, you must’ve thought, when I gave it away– Christ, I’m so sorry.”
To his credit, Greg did sound it, and Alex finally forced himself to look up at him. “My fault,” he said bracingly, “for going about it like, erm, that, I suppose.”
Greg shook his head slowly. “I mean, a little bit, yeah, but still.” He hesitated, which may well have been the first time Alex had seen Greg hesitate at anything. Then he held his arms open, the gesture as familiar to Alex after ten years as breathing. “Come here,” he said, and Alex was as helpless as ever but to obey, stepping forward to let Greg fold his arms around him, holding him tightly. “I really am sorry,” Greg murmured, his voice low in Alex’s ear.
Alex sighed, closing his eyes. “It’s all right,” he said, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he was talking to Greg, or to himself. For a long moment, they stayed like that, until Alex opened his eyes and titled his head back to ask, if only because they might as well get the rest of it over with, “Are you going to, erm, read the rest?”
Greg sighed as well, ducking his chin almost as if he was going to kiss the top of Alex’s head, though he didn’t. “Suppose I’d best,” he said, lifting the hand that still held the letter without releasing his hold on Alex. “‘I just wanted to tell you that I think I’ve fallen in love with you. And I don’t expect you to feel the same, of course, but I thought it was past time that you knew. Even if it does make your life, and likely mine, a little harder, you deserve to know the truth. Whatever else happens, working with you, being friends with you, has made my life so much more joyful than I thought was ever possible. Love, Alex.’”
Silence fell between them once Greg finished reading, and Alex squeezed his eyes closed again, trying desperately to think of some joke that might ease the tension and bring them back onto more familiar footing. But before he could manage anything, Greg asked softly, “You let me give this away?”
Alex frowned. “I didn’t really let you do anything—”
“You could’ve fucking told me!”
Greg sounded genuinely angry, and Alex pulled away, or at least as far as Greg would let him. “I thought—”
“What?” Greg asked, something almost sharp in his tone, and when Alex just blinked up at him, he continued, still with that sharp tone, “No, I mean it, mate, I’m dying to know what thought process went through your head that led you to assume that either I’d just give away something that you gave me like it meant nothing, or worse, that I’d read your letter and decided to, what, ignore it?”
Alex’s brow furrowed. “Well, to be fair, you did give it away like it meant nothing—”
“To my mum because she thought it was a gift for her and I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise!” Greg shouted. “I told you the story!”
“I remember, I was there,” Alex said, a little sullenly.
Greg glowered at him. “Well, that would’ve been a grand time to fucking tell me there was more to it!” he snapped. “As if I haven’t spent the last year the same way I’ve spent the nine prior to that, trying to read your twerpy little expressions and glances and touches like I’m in a fucking Jane Austen novel when you could’ve just told me and saved me a bloody decade of pining like a teenager!”
Alex winced automatically at Greg’s tone, and it took him a minute to process what exactly he’d said. “Sorry, what?”
Greg once again ignored him, which was probably for the best, because Alex was having difficulty stringing together a coherent thought. “I mean, fucking hell, mate, in a letter in a secret compartment of a box—”
Alex just shook his head, still a step behind. “Are you saying—”
He broke off and Greg glanced down at him. “What?” he said shortly, though if Alex’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, there was a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
“Do you, erm—” Alex gulped. “I mean, er, does that mean…”
Greg shook his head fondly, and there was no mistaking his smile this time. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
Alex jerked a nod. “Right.”
“And yes,” Greg continued, “it means that I love you too.”
Alex’s mouth opened and closed again. “Oh,” he managed, more of a squeak than a word.
Greg grinned down at him. “And I would very much like to kiss you right now,” he said. “If you’ll let me.”
There were a million and one things that Alex wanted to say, but in the end, there was really only one thing he could. “Yes, please.”
Greg’s grin widened and he took a step closer, reaching out to cup Alex’s cheek with one large hand, the other grabbing Alex’s jumper to pull him flush against him before finally ducking his head and kissing Alex as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Alex’s mouth opened against his with a sigh, an extremely happy and contented sigh as he got the one thing he’d wanted for the past nine Christmases and never once dreamed he’d actually get. Greg kissed him for another long moment before pulling away just far enough to rest his forehead against Alex’s. “Alex, love?” he murmured.
“Yes, Greg?”
Greg kissed him once more before telling him, “Put the fucking box down.”
Alex realised for the first time that he was in fact still clutching the box, that it was squished between them and jabbing into them rather uncomfortably now that he had noticed it. “Right,” he said, extracting his arm and tossing the box aside without another glance.
Greg barked a laugh. “Fucking hell—” he started, but Alex cut him off by kissing him again.
Which, all things being equal, was significantly more effective than the box had been.
If only Alex had known that last Christmas, he could’ve saved them both some trouble, but as Greg pulled him close to snog him properly, he couldn’t really find it in himself to regret it.
Besides, this Christmas was as good a time as any.