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A few minutes after closing, Dante, adorned in a thick sweater, stands in front of the counter, and looks directly upward.
The place hadn’t been decorated for Christmas at all, save for this one thing. This mistletoe. This stupid mistletoe that’s been tormenting him all day. Of course this happens to him. Well, nothing has actually happened. With its small size and awkward placement, it went unnoticed by most people who came in. But a customer pointed it out to Dante, and ever since, during spare moments when customers were nonexistent and Randal kept to his own devices, Dante thought of him and Randal ending up under it. And what would happen.
He’s no stranger to these thoughts. He’s not even a stranger to thinking about kissing Randal when he’s sitting right next to him. But now, he knows a new torture. An excuse to make his thoughts a reality. A pathetic festive sprig taped to the ceiling as if taunting him, daring him to do something. Which he won’t, because these thoughts don’t mean much, since Dante doesn't actually want such a thing to happen. Obviously.
And so, Dante glares.
“Who even puts mistletoe up in a convenience store?”
Randal answers from a distance. “Hell of a lot easier than actually decorating the place. Takes a lot of effort to throw tinsel all over the walls when all you gotta do is tape a plant to the ceiling. That’s the problem with people these days, only doing the bare minimum.”
Dante crosses his arms. “You’re one to talk. Why don’t you decorate the place?”
Warned by approaching footsteps, Dante turns to see Randal walking up to him with two lidded cups in his hands, arms shaking from the cold. “You’re assuming I care enough about the customer experience to do such a thing. I don’t see the point in it, anyway. Only the lowest of the low will be getting their holiday cheer from the same place they get their cigarettes.”
“You're aware there’s people who work here.”
“And no amount of Christmas lights is gonna make it a more tolerable experience.” Randal hands him a cup.
“What is this?”
“Hot chocolate, what did you think it was?”
It looks to be coffee, given its presence in a paper coffee cup, but Dante takes a sip and, yep, hot chocolate. Cheap and a bit too warm, but sweet enough to be pleasant. The kindness of the gesture is already enough to make him smile. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Randal leans against the counter and takes a sip of his own drink.
Fuck, now we're both under it, Dante thinks. Do I ask him? No, I'm not doing that. I’ll only do it if he brings it up… Randal, please bring it up. Please don't. Say something about it.
Randal says something. “You have any plans for the day of? You’re spending time with your folks, aren’t you?”
This stinks. “Yep, family dinner.”
“At your place?”
Does he want to come along? His chest aches, but, his family... “You're not coming.”
“Didn’t say I would. But if you’re not too far, you can come here afterwards.”
“Why?”
Randal sets down his cup. “I was thinking we’d have our own Christmas celebration here. Quick Stop’s closed on Christmas. Security cameras aren’t gonna be on, and if they are, we can turn them the other way. We can do whatever we want in here.”
“Could we go somewhere else?”
“We could, if you wanna pass up the opportunity to smash this place to bits.”
“What!?”
Dante's so cute when he's surprised. “C’mon, man, anyone who works at a store during the holidays has a real deep-seated hatred for their job, and I can’t even imagine what that’s like for someone such as yourself. Figured it’d be better to let you wreck the place instead of waiting until you murder a customer for looking at you funny.”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
“In your current state, sure, but I give you a few more years, tops.”
Dante sets his cup down next to Randal’s, far too aware of how close they are now. And with the mistletoe still up there… has Randal noticed it yet? He had to, right? “Besides, I’m not going to clean up that whole mess.”
“Mopping up blood can't be too much of a problem. You’ve handled worse.”
“No, you idiot, I’m not going to destroy the store.”
“Not even if I help you clean up?”
“Like you’re going to help much.”
“Suit yourself.” Randal rubs his arms, attempting to warm himself. “But deal’s still on the table if you wanna come over here.”
“I would like to go somewhere after dinner. Just not the same place I spend every other day.”
“If you have any ideas, I’m up for it. As long as I get a chance to give you your present.”
Dante’s eyebrows rise. “You got me a present?”
“Course I did. You think so little of me, you don’t think I’d get something for you?”
Huh. Dante's family isn’t huge on the whole gift-giving part of the holiday, so it seems it didn’t even occur to Dante that he could, should get something for Randal. So many options, so many ways to show his love. “When you put it like that...”
“Hey, I’m not expecting anything in return, I just wanna show off what a good friend I am.”
Randal has that self-satisfied smirk that typically follows his most annoying statements. It’s a toss-up on whether Dante will find this look frustrating or endearing at any given moment. His heart and face grow warm, and now his eyes are magnetically drawn to his lips, thinking about how they would feel against his... damn it, first Randal gets him hot chocolate, and now a gift. He didn’t even ask for either of them. Maybe Christmas spirit is real and has Randal in his clutches. It compels Dante to do something in return, here and now… or maybe that’s also Christmas spirit talking.
Dante’s eyes drift to Randal's hands, grasping his own arms that are trembling from the cold. He’s been fine for most of the day, but the Quick Stop’s subpar heating doesn’t do well in the face of these freezing December nights.
Dante takes his sweater off.
Randal, wide-eyed, takes a mental picture of Dante’s slightly exposed waist when he lifts the sweater up. That happy trail... “What are you doing?”
“I’m not letting you keep it,” Dante says, now in a long-sleeve shirt, handing the sweater to him. “Bring it back tomorrow.”
As he takes it, Randal softly rubs his thumbs against the threads. He puts it on. Warmth envelops him, from more than just the sweater itself. Oh, it even smells like Dante… not that Randal could describe such a scent as anything other than pleasant, familiar, like home. “You're such a sap sometimes.”
And maybe Dante is a sap, feeling a sense of fondness and something adjacent to accomplishment. Yeah, that's my best friend. I make him happy. And he looks so cute in-- No. Don't think like that.
Randal continues. “You know, I was gonna give you something I’d let you keep.”
“This isn't your present.”
“Maybe I want it to be.”
Dante forces down a smile, making a mental note to surprise him with a second gift later. “Fine.”
“If you’re that upset, you can gift me a different one instead.”
“Why do you want one of my sweaters?”
“Would you want one of my hats in return?”
If I was the kind of person who wore hats. “That better not be what my present is.”
“If it’ll sweeten the deal for you, I can throw one in.”
“I’ll pass.”
So, the conversation has ended. It’s time to move on, to leave. And yet. Dante can’t bring himself to walk away, not with the mistletoe right there. He looks up at it, then back down to see Randal now staring at it.
“You know, you haven’t moved from this spot in a while,” Randal says.
“Neither have you.”
“Hey, I’m down if you are.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious.”
Dante’s face burns up. “You're serious?”
“It’s the rules, isn't it?”
They stare at each other, both far too aware of their own bodies. Lingering in each other’s space. The places Randal's skin touches the sweater. Dante’s arms hanging limp at his sides, his eyelids raised, cold air gracing the tops of his eyes. Randal worries his carefree expression might not be all too convincing. “I’m giving you ample opportunity to walk away here.”
Dante braces himself, then says… “You do it.”
“Alright,” he says, then he takes a few steps away.
“No!”
Randal turns around and walks back.
“I mean...” Dante says, “you can… you know.”
Oh. Randal’s hands twitch with the desire to grab him right then and there. He puts them in his pockets. “Why do I have to do it?”
“You're the one who brought it up!”
“Don't try and pin this on me, you’re the one who stood under here.”
“And you walked up to me!”
“What, did you want me to throw hot chocolate at you?”
“You could’ve just asked me to walk over there.”
“And why would I do that?”
“So we wouldn't end up in this situation? You didn't want this, did you?”
“No," Randal lies, “but it seems you did.”
“I don't want to,” Dante lies, “but I’ll do it.”
“You’re being awfully insistent for someone who doesn’t want it.”
“I’m trying to honor tradition!”
“So am I!”
“Since when do you care?”
Randal smiles devilishly, or maybe in anticipation. “I’ll only kiss you if you can man up and ask.”
“Fine,” Dante groans. “Can I kiss you?”
“Not if I kiss you first.”
Randal reaches out and cups Dante’s face in his hands, crashing their lips together. Feeling all tingly inside, they both melt into it, Dante hugs him and runs his hands along the sweater, pulling him in, and Randal only wants to be closer, closer...
Before long, Randal breaks the kiss with a quiet laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
I’ve wanted this for so long… “You're so gay, man.”
“You’re the one who kissed me.”
“You love me.”
I do. “Shut up,” Dante says with a smile.
Randal starts peppering kisses against Dante’s face.
“What are you doing?” Dante asks.
“I thought you wanted me to shut up.”
Dante grabs Randal by the chin and looks at him sternly, and Randal freezes up, Christ, he’s hot when he's irritated, paralyzed with fear that he's finally gone too far.
But then Dante kisses him, firmly before softening up, savoring the moment, savoring Randal’s lips, as much as he can. Randal sighs into it so blissfully, Dante feels snow-melting sunshine in his soul.
Dante pulls away, with the rationale of before it’s too obvious I’m enjoying this, but it might be too late for that. “Now will you shut up?”
“For now,” Randal says, looking down at his lips.
Maybe, Dante thinks, if Randal’s responding so positively, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if Randal found out about Dante’s feelings for him. It’s still not something he plans to ever admit. But with Randal smiling like that... God, maybe he could.
And maybe, Randal thinks, their friendship could survive whatever mishaps occur as a result of Randal admitting his feelings. But he won’t do it now. If there’s a chance for a relationship, if Dante feels the same way, Randal will wait for Dante to be ready. As long as it takes.
For what it’s worth, that mistletoe will stay up until Christmas.