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Herbert knew he had a poor track record when it came to gift giving. Dan never said as much, but the signs of disappointment were there, year after year.
He forgot special occasions, didn’t bother with wrapping, and his best idea of a heartfelt gift was a literal heart that he had pilfered from the morgue.
To complicate matters, Dan was a particularly good gift-giver.
Dan noticed things: when Herbert’s supply of pencils was low, Dan would buy a new pack; if Herbert mentioned a particular type of Swiss-German cookie he missed from Zürich, Dan would find the recipe and bake some.
Herbert had thought bringing back Dan’s dead girlfriend would be the perfect gift, but Dan had rejected their creation so harshly that she had tore herself apart.
Though he supposed, considering the progression in their relationship from lab-partners to romantic partners not long afterward, he should be thankful that Dan hadn’t become too attached.
But Herbert was determined that this Christmas, he would find the perfect gift for Dan.
That was why, against all sense and reason, Herbert found himself standing in the center of a shopping mall. He was surrounded on all sides by hoards of simple-minded fools, who, like him, had left their shopping to the last possible minute.
Herbert walked past the food court and all of the eateries located within. He avoided the jewellery stores too, and gave the toy stores a wide berth; he was not in the mood to endure the screaming of entitled children.
The perfume and cosmetic store made his nose and eyes itch from the moment he entered, and Herbert span on his heel to leave as soon as the overwhelming scent threatened to cause a coughing fit.
Perhaps Dan would appreciate some warm socks or a new leather belt. Herbert stepped toward a clothing store, but-
“Sir, ‘tis the season of giving!”
Blocking his way was a man in an ill-fitting Santa Claus costume, bucket held forward for donations.
Herbert scoffed, side-stepping the Santa.
The Santa stepped to block his path once more. “Every cent helps a great cause!”
“Get out of my way,” Herbert spat, hands fisted at his side.
The Santa had the audacity to roll his eyes. “C’mon buddy, just drop a few coins in the bucket and we can both be on our way.”
How dare he!
“Imbecile,” Herbert muttered as he shoved the Santa away and continued into the store, leaving him to stew in the entranceway.
The clothing store seemed to have been picked clean by vultures, the empty-eyed retail staff restocking what they could, and refolding clothes that had been strewn over every surface by inconsiderate shoppers.
From the remaining stock, Herbert selected a pair of socks, and a tan leather belt too. It didn’t feel particularly meaningful, but it was better than returning home empty-handed.
Herbert exited the mall and started walking toward the nearest bus stop.
He was stopped once more by the Santa from earlier, but this time he had brought friends.
Surrounded on all sides by six bell-ringing Santa Clauses, Herbert began to feel somewhat intimidated.
“Hey, pal. We heard you attacked a Santa,” one of the Santas said.
“Ah, well-” Herbert began.
The Santas lunged forward, grabbing the front of Herbert’s shirt and tossing him forward like a ragdoll.
Herbert landed painfully onto his side, asphalt cutting into his shirt and the skin below.
He dropped his shopping bags and started to run, making a valiant effort to escape the gang of Santas as he wove around the parking lot and into an alley.
Herbert spotted an open dumpster and, without considering anything further than his immediate escape, he launched himself inside.
He closed the lid behind him and listened to the stampede of footsteps as the Santas searched for him. They shuffled around the alleyway, yelling boorishly to each other as they picked over empty cardboard boxes and rattled locked door handles. Eventually they decided that their prey had escaped and slunk away.
Herbert lifted the lid of the dumpster and climbed out weak-kneed and ungainly. He was about exit the alley when he heard a small squeak from next to the dumpster.
“Mrrp?”
A small black kitten was curled inside a soggy cardboard box, shivering in the winter chill.
Inspiration stuck Herbert. Before its untimely suffocation, Dan had seemed to hold a great affection for the small hell-beast he had kept as a pet.
Unlike Rufus, this kitten didn’t seem to mind Herbert. In fact, it had started purring when Herbert picked it up.
Yes, it would do very nicely as a Christmas gift.
Dan was certain that Herbert had forgotten about Christmas, again.
He had barely acknowledged the decorations that Dan had strung from every wall; focused entirely on his experiments.
Dan already had Herbert’s gift wrapped and placed beneath their tree. Herbert had been complaining for months about their substandard coffee maker, so Dan had invested in a new one to keep his partner caffeinated and less grouchy in the mornings.
If Herbert had somehow remembered about Christmas, he was sure to have bought something useful but devoid of sentiment. He’d probably bought Dan socks or gloves or a new pillow case.
Dan arrived home just after 6pm; he pulled into their driveway and entered the house, his keys jingling merrily as he unlocked the front door.
To his surprise, the basement was empty. Dan walked about the house in search of his wayward partner.
He found Herbert in their bedroom, sat cross-legged on the mattress and giving all of his attention to the lump that was curled in his lap.
Dan crept closer, cautious of disturbing his partner. “Herbert?”
Herbert’s head snapped up, a self conscious blush spreading up his neck.
The lump shifted, and Dan realised that it was a kitten. Herbert had been scratching it behind its ears, and now that he had stopped petting it, the kitten stretched out and yawned.
What?
“Ah, Danny. Merry Christmas.”
Herbert gathered the ball of fluff in his hands and presented it to Dan.
The position reminded Dan of how Herbert had offered Meg’s heart to him; holding it out as though it were his own, hot and heavy and still pounding.
Dan took the proffered kitten, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. The house had felt a little empty lately, and he’d found himself missing Rufus more and more often.
It was a sweet gift, and entirely unexpected.
"Thanks, Herb."
Dan leaned forward, careful not to crush the kitten between them, and pressed their lips together.