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Charlie Dalton loved many things, but if he had to pick just two, he’d pick Richard Cameron and Christmas. Today, December 25th, he would finally be able to combine these elements into the perfect evening. He’d been up since early in the morning to prepare everything, putting up more decorations, shopping for the last fresh ingredients needed for dinner, cleaning, changing his outfit three times, cleaning again, until everything was perfect for their first Christmas together. His finishing touch was some mistletoe just past the front door, where he’d wait for Cameron to come home from his trip to see family. All of which is why when Cameron finally came in and tried to brush past Charlie without even saying hi, Charlie was pretty disappointed.
“Hey! You can’t leave me here, that’s bad luck!”
Cameron sighed, finally making eye contact, and he looked just like seventeen year old Cameron again. “Can you not be so Charlie for five minutes please.”
The words hurt like hell and when Cameron went past him into their home, Charlie didn’t even try to stop him. It took him almost two full minutes to process what had happened and not burst into tears right then and there, but once he’d cleared his head Charlie followed Cameron, determined to fix whatever was wrong. Cameron’s shoes, bag and jacket were dropped rather unceremoniously in the middle of their living room. Charlie paused in front of the bathroom. He had a feeling that Cameron had gone there to panic quietly in the dark. The door was unlocked, so Charlie slipped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. Cameron was sitting on the tile floor, back pressed against the wall and hugging his knees. Charlie sat down across from him, the room just barely big enough for him to do so without touching Cameron. For a while they just sat in silence, but then Cameron reached out and, when Charlie softly took his hand, tugged him towards him. Charlie complied happily, moving over to Cameron’s side of bathroom. He wrapped an arm around Cameron’s shoulders, who rested his head against Charlie’s chest. Cameron’s face was still wet from tears.
“What’s going on?” Charlie whispered.
“I shouldn’t have gone.” Cameron sounds hoarse.
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
Charlie kissed the top of Cameron’s head. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it. I love it when you’re Charlie-ing, promise. Just needed five minutes of nothing.”
Charlie smiled. “I know. I forgive you. Ready to face the world again? I can turn off some of the lights, if it’s too much.”
Cameron got up, extending his hand to help Charlie up too, and not letting go afterwards, as they went out into the living room. “No, it’s alright. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Without saying anything else, Cameron lead them back to the hallway, back to the mistletoe, stopping right beneath it.
“Sweetheart…”
Cameron simply smiled. “I have something to make up to you.”
“Cam… I don’t want you to—”
“Do something I don’t want for you?”
“Yeah.”
“I won’t. I want to, promise.”
Charlie smirked up at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”
And Cameron kissed Charlie liked he’d never kissed him before, deep and slow, like kissing Charlie was the one thing he knew how to do, the one thing he was meant to do. When he finally pulled away, Charlie stared at him, eyes wide and cheeks red.
“Holy shit,” he whispered.
“You act like you’ve never been kissed before.”
Charlie narrowed his eyes at Cameron. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“And you’re not enjoying this at all?”
Charlie didn’t have an answer, but, refusing to admit defeat, he pulled Cameron back into another kiss, this one softer and more gentle, not the adrenaline rush of falling in love but the steady rhythm of keeping the love alive.
Their moment was interrupted by a timer going off on Charlie’s phone.
“Oh shit, lasagna’s done.”
“It smells great.”
“Of course it does. It’s Grandma’s lasagna.”
Cameron smiled fondly at his boyfriend, who was rushing back towards the kitchen. “Can I help with anything?”
“Nope! Just sit at the table and look pretty.”
Cameron complied, watching Charlie take the lasagna out of the oven. It was way too big for the two of them, but he assumed that Charlie had invited the poets over for lunch tomorrow to eat the leftovers. Before he brought their plates over, Charlie filled two wine glasses with grape juice, Cameron’s favourite.
“You know I don’t mind if you have a glass of wine, right?”
“And you know that I don’t mind not drinking when it’s just us.”
“I’m sure you have the perfect wine to go with the lasagna.”
“And you can trust that when the others come over tomorrow those bottles will be emptied.”
The silent staring contest didn’t last long, Charlie reaching over to softly grab Cameron’s hand. “I don’t need fancy food or wine to enjoy Christmas, I just need you and me, us together, alright? I’d be happy eating take-out pizza, as long as you were with me.”
“You would not be happy eating take-out pizza at Christmas.”
“No, I wouldn’t be. But my point still stands. I just want us together.”
“We are together.”
“Then I’m happy.”
“Alright.”
“And that’s another point for Dalton, who expands his lead on Richard Cameron, winning argument after argument.”
Cameron groaned. “I should’ve known you couldn’t be serious for such a long period.”
“Yes, you should’ve.”
Charlie got up to bring over the plates. After sitting down again, he raised his glass.
“To us. I love you.” Cameron could’ve melted into a puddle right there and then.
“To us. I love you too.”
The lasagna tasted even better than it smelled (thank you Grandma Dalton). They ate and drank and talked a bit, about their friends and their plans for the rest of the holidays, before they reached the dreaded subject.
“So… Your family. What happened?” Charlie knew Cameron didn’t want to talk about it, but he also knew that not talking meant bottling up the feelings until they ended up causing something else, like a massive fight between the two of them.
Cameron sighed. “Nothing happened. It was the same as it always was. I don’t know what I was hoping for. Mum kept bringing you up, just to talk about all your bad qualities in an attempt to convince me that I’d be so much happier with a girl, preferably the daughter of one of her friends. Dad refuses to acknowledge your existence and kept leaving the table every time Mum mentioned anything remotely related to me being gay. And poor Anna looked like she wanted to turn it into a drinking game, but Mum still refuses to let her have more than half a glass, despite her doctors saying it’s fine and the fact that she’s an adult.”
“Sorry for ruining your family Christmas.”
“It’s not even close to your fault. Besides there were plenty of other things to discuss, like politics, evil transgenders who are trying to take away “our” rights, how lesbians are kind of unnatural, even though you’re not allowed to say that anymore, and the fact that Anna wants to go to university.”
“Damn.”
“Damn, indeed.”
“Any chance they’re letting her go?”
“She seems to think so. I’m doubtful. Mum is insistent on keeping her at home forever. I’ve told her that she can stay here to escape her… over-protectiveness, but I don’t know. Anna doesn’t want to leave and I can’t make her go, I just don’t want her to waste away her life stuck in that place.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I know. She did ask if I’d bring you with me for New Year’s Eve. I couldn’t get it over my heart to tell her that there’s no way that I’m going there again any time soon.”
“You should invite her to our party. I’d love to finally meet her.”
“She’s dying to meet you too. I’m just afraid that we’re too much for her.”
“She can tell you if it’s too much. Besides, we can make some rooms into a stress-free zone. You know, no music, no shouting, no bright lights. I know Todd and Meeks would appreciate it as well.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Cameron ignored his quip. “I’ll invite her.”
Three days later, Charlie had been busy all day preparing things for the poets’ New Year’s celebration, despite still having a few days. As a result he was exhausted now and had to resort to ordering Cameron around until everything was perfect for their evening together. Two mugs of marshmallows and whipped cream with hot chocolate on the table before them with a plate of freshly baked cookies. The movie started playing and Cameron finally joined him on the couch. Charlie slowly moved over inch by inch, went from sitting next to him, to resting his head on Cameron’s shoulder, to practically lying in his lap. When he got no reaction from his boyfriend, who was intently watching the movie, he slid his fingers under the hem of Cameron’s sweater. He trailed his fingers over Cameron’s soft skin, until Cameron’s hand caught his wrist.
“Charlie.”
“Hm?” Charlie looked up at him innocently.
“I thought you wanted me to watch this movie.”
“I do. It’s insane that you’ve never seen it before!”
“Then would you consider stopping what you’re doing?”
“Oh. Too much?”
“Nah. Just distracting me from the movie.”
“Sigh. I’ll control myself.”
Cameron kissed the top of Charlie’s head, whispering, “I’ll make up for it later.”
It only took about twenty more minutes of watching the movie in silence before Charlie’s breathing evened out.
“Char?”
“Hm?”
“You’re falling asleep on me, love.”
“’M not.”
“If you say so.”
Ten more minutes and Charlie stopped reacting to anything, only snuggling closer into Cameron’s chest. Cameron turned off the television and untangled the blankets from Charlie (which was quite difficult, considering Charlie’s insistence on clinging to him like a koala). Cameron got up, carefully holding onto Charlie, one arm under his legs, the other around his back. As he walked them over to Cameron’s bedroom, Charlie shifted in his arms. “Are you carrying me?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Hot.”
“You’ve said so before.”
Once on the bed, it was a matter of seconds before Charlie had disappeared beneath the blankets.
“Charlie. You hate sleeping in jeans.”
“I don’t.”
Cameron fondly rolled his eyes. “I won’t cuddle with you if you’re wearing jeans.”
“Alright. Fine. Whatever.”
The jeans came off and Charlie was asleep before Cameron had finished changing into his pajamas. Somehow, though, despite seeming deep in dreamland already, Charlie knew the moment he joined him in bed and threw an arm and leg over him, spreading out like a starfish on his stomach.
When Cameron was younger, when he met Charlie, he had trouble sleeping. He’d lie awake night after night, thinking about everything that could go wrong, everything he could do wrong. When he did sleep, nightmares followed every time. Now though, with the quiet reassurance of Charlie’s limbs pressing down on him, sleep came easy. Now, sleep was a comfort as much as a necessity.