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Damen stepped out of the airport and was met by the crisp December air. A fine sheet of snow fell from the sky, leaving small specks of white on his hair and jacket. Damen shivered and adjusted the scarf around his neck. Although it had been months since he’d moved up North, he still hadn’t adapted to the cold weather. He let out a sigh. His breath was visible in front of him, curling away like smoke from an extinguished candle. 

It took a while before Damen managed to hail a cab. The pick-up area was packed with people; everyone was looking to get a ride into town. After the fifth try, a taxi stopped at the curb in front of him. Damen climbed in before anyone else could steal it, reciting his address to the driver. Once the car began to move, Damen slumped into his seat and rubbed his eyes. He really should have slept on the flight but the child in front of him bawled the whole time. It was a restless conclusion to a long week.

Damen was a programmer for Akielos Inc., a software company his father established almost thirty years ago. And while Damen’s job was primarily remote work, he was obligated to attend meetings at the headquarters overseas every other year. It was typically a weekend affair, but when Damen was just about to leave, his stepbrother Kastor acquired a virus that wiped out his portion of the work. Damen was forced to stay behind to minimize the damage. 

Damen had told Laurent he would come back just before New Years. Laurent said he was fine with it, brushing away Damen’s apology, but the slight disappointment in his voice told Damen otherwise. Two all-nighters, fifty cups of coffee, and half a mental breakdown later, he restored Kastor’s program. Damen didn’t even say goodbye when he rushed to catch the next flight home.

Home.

Damen checked his watch. It was early in the evening. Laurent should be there. He grinned, no longer tired at the thought of his beloved. His skin buzzed with anticipation. They only exchanged one or two words while Damen was gone – partly due to Damen’s horrible cellphone plan and Laurent’s seldom use of social media. Besides, Laurent was a lawyer in the city’s biggest law firm. He was constantly swamped with work. Damen didn’t want to distract him too much.

Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up to a quaint bungalow on a quiet street. Damen paid the fair and almost jumped out of the cab in his haste. He ran up the doorsteps, rummaging around in his backpack for the house key. His fingers fumbled as he tried to unlock the door and almost dropped the key in between the cracks of the porch. He blamed his lack of coordination. It took a few tries, but the door finally swung open.

“Laurent, I’m back!”

No answer.

Damen called for Laurent again, his voice echoing down the hallway. Was he not home? Damen checked his watch again. Laurent always left his office at four thirty in the afternoon. Unless there was a major crisis at work, there was no reason Laurent wouldn’t be home by six. The idea that Laurent ate out was also improbable. He was diligent with making shopping lists.

Thinking back, Damen really should have texted Laurent about his arrival. He knew Laurent was not a fan of surprises. Damen pulled out his phone and was about to call his number when he heard a thud and some rustling in the house.

“Laurent?”

Damen shrugged off his jacket and hung it in the entry closet. He curled his hands into loose fists, darting his eyes around the foyer. They lived in a safe area. The likelihood of a robbery – on Christmas Eve no less – was low, but Damen would rather be safe than sorry.

Irrational panic flared, rushing through Damen’s body like he was struck by lightning. What if the source of the noise was an intruder and Laurent was hurt? What if Laurent was kidnapped and held hostage in a dark cellar? Maybe Damen should call the police. Would a SWAT team be more appropriate? Okay, maybe he should find the source of the noise first but that –

A familiar figure slid into his peripheral vision. It was not an intruder, but Laurent. His lover stood at the entrance, wide-eyed. Damen could only stare back, transfixed by the image in front of him. 

In all the three years Damen knew Laurent, the man never had a hair out of place. The only exception to that statement was when they made love – but even then, he would clean up right after. Whether he was at work or at home, Laurent was always impeccably dressed. He was the type that wore matching socks and had every button in place.

The Laurent in front of him, however, was none of that. His shoulder length hair was disheveled and he appeared to be wearing nothing but one of Damen’s sweaters. It was so large that it stopped just over Laurent’s knees, like a dress. He wasn’t even wearing socks.

If it weren’t for the look of mild panic in Laurent’s eyes, Damen would have wrapped him in his arms and kissed him. The sight of Laurent in his clothes was just too much.

“Damen,” Laurent said. He was first to break the silence. “What are you doing here?”

Well. That was not the reaction Damen had hoped for. “I booked an early flight back.” 

Blue eyes narrowed. “I can see that.” 

Damen shoved his hands in his pockets. “Surprise?”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He couldn’t read Laurent’s expression.

“That kind of defeats the purpose of a surprise.” The butterflies in his stomach morphed into wasps, stinging and tearing at him. “Aren’t you glad I’m back?”

At that, Laurent blinked as if snapped out of a trance. His face softened, a small smile graced his mouth. “Of course,” he said. “Of course I am.”

Damen didn’t return the smile, unsure if it was welcome or not. “That’s good.”

Laurent’s smile grew. He went on his tiptoes and pulled Damen into a gentle embrace. Damen startled – not expecting this gesture – and wrapped his arms around Laurent without hesitation. Their bodies fit perfectly together, the feeling of comfort all encompassing. He had missed this. “I missed you.” 

Laurent buried his head into the crook of Damen’s neck. “I missed you too.”

Damen couldn’t help it. He tugged on the sweater Laurent wore. “I bet you did.” 

Laurent pushed him away, face beet red. “You possessive barbarian.” 

“Can you blame me?” Damen teased. “I like seeing you in my clothes. You should wear them more often.”

“Barbarian,” Laurent repeated before taking Damen’s suitcase and dragging it into the living room.

The house was as clean and organized as it had been when he left. Damen had always been neat, but moving in with Laurent proved how inadequate he was in the ‘home organization’ department. The hardwood floors shined under the lights, the shelves and counters were spotless. The few picture frames on the walls – mostly of their certificates and academic diplomas – were straightened and dusted.

It felt good to be home.

“From your early arrival, I take that you fixed your brother’s problems at Akielos?”

Damen groaned. “Kastor is a pain in my ass. The only reason why he’s still part of the company is because my father owns it. I’m just glad I don’t have to see him for the next two years.” 

Laurent glanced up at him. “If you want him gone, just say the word.”

Damen shook his head. He wouldn’t wish anyone to face Laurent’s wrath. “I’d rather not start any trouble. My goal is to keep our interactions to a minimum.”

“Fair enough.”

“Has work been treating you well?” Damen asked but winced at Laurent’s change of expression.

“It’s fine,” said Laurent. That, Damen had learned, was code for: absolutely hell.

Laurent specialized in child custody, abuse, and protection cases. From the little Laurent had told Damen, trials had the tendency to turn messy and difficult in the blink of an eye. But their safety is worth everything, Laurent had told him.

“I’m here if you need me.”

Laurent leaned against a wall, head tilted towards the ceiling. “One of my cases has been…” Damen waited for Laurent to continue. “Taxing. Everything’s moving too slowly for my liking. It’s a hard fight.”

Damen went over to Laurent and gathered him into his arms, rocking them side-to-side. He could feel Laurent’s muscles relax a fraction. Damen should have noticed the bags under Laurent’s eyes sooner. “Have you been taking care of yourself?” 

A pause. “Yes.” 

“How much sleep have you gotten since I left?”

Another pause. “Enough to get by.” 

“Laurent.”

“Maybe eighteen hours?”

Damen’s heart lurched at the answer. That was barely four hours a night. “Sweetheart,” said Damen. “You work yourself too hard.”

He could feel Laurent tensing again. “They’re kids, Damen. They’re scared, they’re hurt and I need to – I can’t let –”

A moment of silence passed. The words unsaid hung in the air, a palpable thing.

“Hey,” Damen said softly. “Hey. Look at me.” 

Laurent looked up. It reminded Damen of Laurent’s expression when they first kissed, uncertain and wary. “I’m proud of you. Your strength and passion are one of the many things I admire about you.” Love about you. 

They were still holding each other, inches apart. 

“Did you eat yet?” Damen asked.

“No.” Laurent turned his head into Damen’s chest, his words muffled.

Damen gave him a squeeze. “I’ll make something for you. The fridge is restocked, right?”

Laurent nodded. “Yesterday. But aren’t you tired? You just got back.”

Damen took ahold of Laurent’s hand. “I haven’t cooked the whole week. It’ll be nice to get my hand on my knife set again. Besides,” Damen started to walk to the kitchen, Laurent in tow.  “I like doing things for you.”

Laurent tugged his hand away. “I – I’m going to change first.” 

Before Damen could speak, Laurent went into their bedroom.

The sinking feeling was back. Had Damen done something wrong? He knew he shouldn’t take this slight rejection to heart. Laurent could get like this sometimes. He was a private person, quick to build up his defenses and push people away. His actions, Damen knew, did not always reflect his thoughts. When Damen decided to pursue Laurent, it took a long time to figure out his boundaries and know when to test them. Patience and perseverance were what won Laurent’s trust and, subsequently, his heart. 

Damen shook his head to clear his thoughts and busied himself in the kitchen. He and Laurent had a solid relationship. While Damen may have doubts and worries, he knew Laurent would tell him if there was an issue.

Damen was pouring Bolognese sauce on top of the penne when Laurent reemerged from the room. He wore black skinny jeans, a white shirt and his favourite blue scarf. Much to Damen’s delight, Laurent took out his contacts and wore glasses instead.

“It smells good,” said Laurent, somewhat sheepish.

Damen smiled at him. “Simple is best.”

They sat on opposite sides of each other. Laurent reached out and took Damen’s hand. The touch set Damen’s heart on fire. “Thank you, Damen. Welcome home.”

They didn’t say much after that, but that was okay with Damen. Sometimes, words weren’t needed.

With dinner put away and a promise from Laurent that he wouldn’t touch work within the next twenty-four hours, Damen went to shower. He desperately wanted to rinse the grime and dirt of a long plane ride down the drain.

Just as Damen finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, he heard the bathroom door open. 

“Care if I join you?” Laurent asked.

“Not at all,” said Damen.

He heard the distinctive sound of a zipper. Then, the thud of clothes tossed into the hamper.

Laurent drew back the curtains, gloriously naked, and stepped inside the tub. It was a tight fit – mostly because of Damen’s size – but it worked. Damen wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hi,” said Damen, feeling rather giddy even though they bathed together regularly. The sight of Laurent always made Damen feel like a teenager again. 

Laurent rolled his eyes. “Hello, lover. Turn around so I can wash your back.”

Damen did as he was told, feeling warm hands rub the body wash over his skin with slow, circular movements. Hands worked their way up his shoulders and down his arms. They were firm, but gentle.  Damen closed his eyes and soaked in the touch. When Laurent finished lathering, he detached the shower head from its holder and rinsed the soapsuds away.

Damen turned back around and kissed Laurent on the cheek in thanks. He grabbed the shampoo. “Your turn.”

Laurent tilted his head back, allowing Damen to comb and spread an even amount of shampoo onto his blond locks. A small sigh escaped Laurent’s mouth. Damen applied a little more pressure to his ministration, massaging Laurent’s scalp.

“That feels good,” said Laurent. His eyes were closed.

“I’m glad,” said Damen. “It’s supposed to.”

Laurent hummed contently. “You should stop or we’ll never get out of the shower.”

Damen leaned over and kissed Laurent’s shoulder. It was flushed pink from the hot water. “I have no objections.”

He was rewarded with a laugh. “Of course you don’t.” 

They rinsed off quickly. Damen took charge of towelling Laurent off. He made sure to press gentle kisses on any available surface. Laurent grumbled under his breath, fighting a smile off his face.

Damen finished his post-shower routine first. He opened the bathroom door, steam pouring into the bedroom. Towel around his waist, Damen went to the drawer to fetch a pair of boxer-briefs. He put them on and reached into the adjacent drawer for Laurent’s clothing. He took out Laurent’s nightwear: briefs, lounge pants, and a loose fitting long sleeve shirt.

Something meowed behind him. Damen closed the drawer and –

Wait…what? 

Damen whirled around and froze at the sight of a black cat sitting on the bed. Its tail twitched once. 

“Laurent?” Damen called out. “Why is there a cat on our bed?”

The sound of a blow dryer stopped. Laurent peaked his head out. “Pardon?”

The cat in front of Damen extended its claws, green eyes furious. “I’m about to be murdered by a cat. Please help me.” 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you about him,” said Laurent. “He likes to hide so I sometimes forget he’s around.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Laurent continued blow-drying his hair. “One of my coworkers moved into an apartment and found out they’re not allowed pets. They already signed the contract so the cat had to go. I offered to take him in. His name is Nicaise.”

Nicaise hissed at Damen and leaped off the bed. He trotted over to Laurent and rubbed his body around Laurent’s legs, making figure eights. Much to Damen’s bewilderment, he felt a stir of jealousy.

“I don’t think Nicaise likes me.”

“You’re still a stranger,” said Laurent. He bent down to pat Nicaise’s head. The cat arched into the touch. Hey, Damen wanted to say. Back off. “He’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“Right.” With the evil glares Nicaise shot Damen’s way, he really doubted it. He never had an affinity with animals. Damen stuck with computers; they wouldn’t hurt him. 

Damen took a step in Laurent’s direction, but at the sharp hiss he stayed back and extended his hand. He offered the bundle of clothing to Laurent. “I got these for you.”

Laurent eyed the clothes. There was a split second of hesitance before he reached for them. Damen furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you okay?” 

Laurent snatched the clothes from Damen’s hand. As if sensing the shift in atmosphere, Nicaise ran out of the room. “Everything’s fine.” 

The door slammed shut. Worry bubbled in Damen’s gut. He wanted to march inside the bathroom and demand answers. He wanted to shake Laurent and ask what he should do. He didn’t though, because that wouldn’t be what Laurent wanted.   

Damen let out a breath. Laurent needed space, he thought. So give it to him. He climbed into their king-sized bed and pulled the sheets over him. He let the smell of Laurent surround and comfort him. 

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he heard the bathroom door open. His back was turned towards the door so he couldn’t gage Laurent’s expression. He heard soft footsteps and felt the mattress sink under Laurent’s weight.

A hand touched his shoulder. “Damen?” 

The pleading in Laurent’s voice was what caused him to look over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Laurent’s lips were pulled tight. “I didn’t mean to –”

Damen sat up. Laurent stopped talking. He brushed a strand of hair away from Laurent’s face, uncovering the blue eyes underneath. The only source of light in the room was the lamp at their bedside table. It gave Laurent’s skin a warm, golden glow. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I will be.” Laurent turned off the lamp and slipped under the covers, arranging them so his head was on Damen’s chest. Laurent’s arm was carefully placed across Damen’s stomach. Their legs tangled together.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Laurent said into the silence. “I missed you.” 

“Me too.” Damen pressed a kiss to Laurent’s head, breathing in the smell of him. “Is it midnight yet?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Laurent craned his neck to see the digital clock on the bedside table. “Five minutes past.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

Laurent pressed a kiss to Damen’s neck. “Good night, Damen. Merry Christmas.”

Damen woke up first, which was unusual. Must be the jetlag, he thought, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Laurent was the early riser between the two of them – though not necessarily by choice. He had to get to his office before sunrise. Today, however, was a different story. It was Christmas. And holidays were meant for sleeping in.

A sliver of sunlight passed their curtains, shining a thin light into the room. Laurent lay beside him, their heads sharing a pillow. He was still in deep sleep. His blond hair framed his face like a halo, highlighting his small nose, elegant cheekbones, and long eyelashes. His lips were slightly parted, small puffs of air escaping in even intervals. He looked at peace. Damen couldn’t stop staring. Laurent was effortlessly beautiful; it stole Damen’s breath away.

It took Damen a while to detach himself from Laurent without waking him. He was a light sleeper and deserved as much rest as he could get. Shrugging on a well-worn hoodie and some basketball shorts, Damen went to the kitchen. They both deserved a hearty homemade breakfast this morning. He grabbed flour, baking powder, sugar and salt from the pantry. Milk, eggs and butter were in the fridge. To Damen’s amusement, everything was labeled with a sticker. Laurent’s doing, of course.

He whisked the ingredients together, humming a catchy Mariah Carey Christmas song he heard at the airport. When the batter was the right consistency, he scooped a dollop and dropped it in the hot buttery pan. It made a satisfying sizzling sound.

Damen had a nice stack going when two arms snaked their way around Damen’s waist. He felt Laurent rest his head in between Damen’s shoulder blades. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” said Damen. He flipped another pancake. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

Laurent nodded. He took utensils and plates to the table. Orange juice and coffee in their respective mugs followed. Laurent opened the fridge and held out a jug. “Maple syrup?” 

“Sure,” Damen grinned. “Sweet tooth acting up again?”

Laurent glared at Damen. He sat down and drowned his pancake in syrup, never taking his eyes off of Damen. Damen laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Point taken.” 

Damen turned to his own plate and picked up his fork and knife. A few mouthfuls later, he frowned. The disadvantage of eating pancakes was the fact that he couldn’t hold Laurent’s hand. To compensate for the lack of contact, Damen stretched out his foot and nudged Laurent’s under the table. Laurent nudged back. When Damen did it again, Laurent pressed their ankles together. “Are we really playing footsie?” His voice was traced with humour. 

“It’s the closest thing to holding hands,” Damen explained, beaming when a wonderful blush spread to Laurent’s cheeks.

“You can’t say things like that when I’m mad at you.”

Damen raised an eyebrow. “Mad?” 

Laurent put down his fork and crossed his arms. He looked more annoyed than anything. “We agreed on no presents this year.”

“We did.” Now Damen was confused. “What –? ”

“You know I don’t care much about festivities,” Laurent cut in. “But the thought of spending this holiday alone…” he looked away. “I dealt with it. I was fine. And then you had the audacity to show up on Christmas Eve, giving me the only thing I wanted. I don’t know what to give you back of equal value.”

Damen rose from his seat and knelt next to Laurent’s chair. He took both of Laurent’s hands in his own, kissing the knuckles. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Laurent tried to escape, but Damen held him in place.

“Seeing you after five days of misery was singlehandedly the best present I have ever received.” Damen had to make Laurent believe it. “You gave me your present the same time I gave mine to you. Win-win, you see?”

“I guess so,” said Laurent. Damen didn’t think Laurent’s face could get any redder. It was ridiculously endearing. “I still feel like I owe you. You do so much, you’re so good, and I hardly ever–”

“Nonsense,” said Damen. “You’re putting me on a pedestal again, Laurent. I do things for you because I want to see you happy. No one’s keeping scores. We don’t owe each other anything.”

Laurent nodded, eyes on the floor. Damen placed two fingers underneath Laurent’s chin, tilting his head so they made eye contact. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” Laurent said softly.

A tiny mew came from behind him. Both men looked at Nicaise. His tail swished back and forth, annoyance etched on his face. “Can I kick him?” Damen asked. Way to ruin the moment, he thought bitterly.

“No,” said Laurent, patting Damen’s cheek. “Be nice. He’s probably hungry.”

Laurent rose from his seat and opened the pantry. He pulled out a can of cat food, emptied its contents into a dish, and placed it on the floor. Nicaise flicked his ears and went over to eat.

“Stop scowling,” said Laurent. “He’s sweet when he wants to be.” 

“Just like you?” Damen teased and laughed when Laurent scowled in response. 

They finished breakfast fairly quickly after that. Leftovers were covered in plastic wrap. The maple syrup was put back in the fridge. They stood side by side at the sink. Damen washed while Laurent dried. It was domesticity at its finest. He loved every minute of it.

Damen was cleaning around the house when he decided to take their recycling to the larger bin in the garage. While collecting the cardboard, a long white box caught his attention. He picked it up, trying to find a label or a company. Their address was on the corner but there no name indicating the recipient.

He put the box back where he found it and went to find Laurent. “Did we get a delivery?”

Laurent was in the living room. He placed a book on top of a pile, back still turned to him. “Why do you ask?” 

“I found a white delivery box in the recycling and –” 

Fast as a bullet, Laurent charged at him. Damen backed up and stumbled when he tripped over a chair. Laurent took a handful of his hoodie and dragged him over to a section of the wall without picture frames. He then pinned Damen to it and kissed him square on the mouth.

The contact was unexpected. Damen gasped but Laurent’s lips captured it. The kiss was a demand for attention and Damen gave it to him. One turned into another, each fueled with a purpose Damen didn’t understand. He had no choice but to hang on. 

When Laurent wanted to show affection, he would do so subtly and in a gentle manner. The fact that he was currently attacking Damen’s face should have been a clear sign that something was amiss. Damen didn’t catch it – mostly because a kiss from Laurent had the ability to short-circuit his brain. He was consumed with heat, the press of Laurent’s body against his own, and the relentless slide of tongue, hungry and commanding.

When they parted, Laurent looked absolutely sinful. His face was flushed, lips bruised from the kisses, and he was panting. 

“What was that for?” Damen asked as he tried to catch his breath.

Laurent pointed upwards. “Mistletoe.”

Damen followed Laurent’s finger and true to his word, there was a tiny mistletoe pinned on the ceiling. “When did you put it there?”

Laurent hushed him with a finger. “I reorganized our bookshelf. I’ll show you where your collections are.” Laurent took Damen by the hand, speaking of genres and publication dates. Damen went along with it, dazed and lightheaded. 

Damen didn’t think about the box until the afternoon. In fact, he had completely forgot about it thanks to Laurent. After showing Damen the bookshelf, Laurent set him on a whirlwind of tasks that kept him busy the whole morning.

As the day progressed, Laurent appeared calmer. Or at least, more like his usual self. They were now relaxing on the couch. Damen lay horizontally with Laurent tucked in the space between his legs. Laurent leaned his back against Damen’s chest, immersed in a book. Damen had an arm loosely wrapped around Laurent while the other held his phone, browsing Facebook. They didn’t talk about the kiss. If Laurent wouldn’t bring it up, neither would Damen.

He frowned, only realizing then that Laurent had not answered his question about the delivery box. It wasn’t like Laurent to avoid a harmless, reasonable question. It was dawning on him now that the mistletoe kiss may have been planned. Perhaps it was a calculated move to distract Damen? But why did Laurent feel the need to hide something from him?

“Damen,” said Laurent, pulling him away from his thoughts. Laurent’s voice was soft, inquisitive. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” He tried to sound nonchalant. 

“Does it bother you that I am the way I am?”

Damen couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “I thought lawyers were supposed to make sense.”

Laurent elbowed him lightly. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” said Damen. Their position made it impossible for Damen to see Laurent’s face. “I really don’t.”

“I’m not an easy lover.”  Laurent said this with finality. A statement.

“I never asked for easy.”

“I have flaws.”

“Everyone has flaws.”

“I’m fairly sure I have more than the average person.”

Damen turned off his phone and pocketed it. “And so? Do you think that bothers me?”

“I don’t tell you things,” Laurent said instead. “Doesn’t that bother you?” 

“It depends on what it is,” Damen admitted. “Are we talking about personal life or our relationship?” A sudden thought popped into Damen’s brain and he pushed it away. Laurent wasn’t Jokaste. He wouldn’t do that. Not to him.

It was a while before Laurent spoke. “Personal.” 

A sense of relief poured into Damen’s veins. “Then no, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t expect you to tell me everything. The fact that you trust me enough to be open and honest is all I need. I’ll never be angry at you for holding something back.”

“But what if you won’t like it?”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Laurent didn’t respond. Something was wrong with him. No, wrong wasn’t the right word. Off. It had been this way ever since Damen came back home. Laurent’s mood was volatile and restless. Damen wished he knew what bothered Laurent. He wanted to fix it. He just didn’t know what to fix.

Damen tried a different tactic.  “Laurent,” he said. “We’ve been dating for two and a half years. We’ve been living together for months.”

A page flip. “I know.”

“We bought a house together.”

“I know.” 

“Doesn’t that stand for something?” Damen tightened his hold on Laurent. “I don’t know what brought this on or what thoughts you’re having right now, but know that I love you.”

Damen felt Laurent tense at the word but he kept going. “I love your tenderness, and your steadfast loyalty. I love your quick wit, your sense of humour, and the way you try to hide the kindness in your heart. I even love the times you get mad at me. Everything. The whole package.”

“No mention of my blond hair or blue eyes?” Laurent asked dryly.

“I wouldn’t care if you shaved your head, wore coloured contacts, or gained a hundred pounds,” said Damen. “No matter what you do or how you look, I will love you the same. Please know that. Never doubt it.”

When Damen finished talking, the book was no longer in Laurent’s hands. It slid from his grasp and onto the floor. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it felt heavy. Damen could sense the wheels in Laurent’s mind turning, processing.

Laurent rose to his knees and turned to straddle Damen’s thighs. His eyes shimmered and were rimmed red. Laurent never cried, but it was the closest thing to tears Damen had seen. Laurent reached out, slowly, as if he was afraid Damen would disappear. Two small hands cupped Damen’s face.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” there was awe in Laurent’s voice, reverence. “To find someone like you in this world.” Damen wanted to hold onto this moment forever and never let go. 

There was a magnetic pull between them, a gravitation force that brought them closer and closer. Laurent leaned in, hovering so they were millimeters apart. Their noses and foreheads touched, sharp bursts of fierce warmth and love flared in the pit of Damen’s stomach.

Blue eyes flickered down at Damen’s lips. Their heads were tilted at the perfect angle, mouths parted, breaths mingling. Damen didn’t dare move. He wanted to, more than ever, but he wanted Laurent to initiate the kiss more. He wanted Laurent to choose him.

The first kiss was chaste, a mere brush of lip. Laurent wet his lips before moving in again. The kiss was longer this time and Damen kissed him back, enjoying the sweetness of it. He moved now, bringing his hands to Laurent’s waist in a loose and supportive hold. Laurent sighed into the next kiss, sliding fingers into Damen’s dark curls. They went on like this, unhurried and relaxed, as if they had all the time in the word. For all Damen knew, they did.

Laurent drew back first. He inhaled sharply, mouth open to speak, but he didn’t make a sound. There was hesitance in his expression. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, searching and racking his brain for a way to express his thoughts.

Laurent had a way with words. It was his weapon in court, enabling him to manipulate his opponents to suit his needs. Outside of work, Laurent used them as a defense to distance himself from others. But when it came to this – to emotions and feelings – Damen could sense Laurent’s inexperience.

Damen brought a hand up to caress Laurent’s cheek. I know, the gesture said. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. He could hear Laurent’s heart loud and clear. 

I love you, it said. I love you.

It took a lot of coaxing, but Damen convinced Laurent to watch Love, Actually with him. They settled on the couch again, blanket thrown on top of them. Damen’s arm draped around Laurent’s shoulder and he felt a sense of satisfaction when Laurent drew up his knees and snuggled closer. Despite Laurent’s complaints about tacky Christmas movies, he watched with rapt attention. Damen even caught Laurent smiling at some parts, which in itself was a miracle.

Halfway through the film, Laurent shifted to get up. “I’m going to make tea.”

Damen paused the screen and followed Laurent. “I’ll come with you. I want popcorn.”

Laurent opened the cupboard to get his mug. “Only if you don’t add that awful cheese seasoning. It’s repulsive. I don’t even know why I let you buy it.”

Damen leaned over to kiss Laurent on the cheek. “Whatever you say, dear.”

If Laurent were a cat, he would be bristling. “I already tolerate ‘sweetheart’, Damen. Don’t push it.” 

“You like it though,” Damen was particularly fond of Laurent like this. “Don’t deny it.”

Laurent ripped open the tea bag wrapper rather forcefully. The packaging was red with a decorated tree on it. Damen recognized it as the Christmas edition one sold at the supermarket. He decided to not comment. This was probably the most festive Laurent would get.

“I deny it.”

Damen set the timer on the microwave and went over to Laurent. “Really?”

Laurent ducked his head in an attempt to hide his blush. “Really. Now stop bothering me.” 

There was still two minutes left on the microwave, so Damen padded to the hallway and took down the mistletoe Laurent pinned up. He brought it back to the kitchen where Laurent stood, taking a cautious sip of his drink.

Damen dangled the mistletoe between them, grinning ear to ear. “Am I still bothering you?”

Laurent put down his mug. “You are an idiot,” he said before closing the gap between them. His mouth was warm and he tasted like peppermint. Damen was addicted to it, turning one kiss into two, three, four….

They broke apart when the microwave beeped, signaling that the popcorn was ready. The smell of salted butter wafted through the kitchen. Damen groaned at the interruption.

Laurent passed a large bowl to Damen and headed towards the couch. “I’ll meet you there.”

Damen all but dumped the contents into the bowl before scurrying out to join Laurent. 

Damen let out a happy sigh when the credits rolled. It was probably his favourite feel-good movie and he would never get tired of it. He looked over at Laurent, who placed his empty mug beside the bowl of half eaten popcorn on the coffee table. “Pretty good, right?”

“It was adequate,” said Laurent. “I find it too predictable for my taste. Not to mention unrealistic.”

“But that’s the point!” Damen protested.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Laurent turned his head and pressed a lingering kiss onto Damen’s lips. “But I do have something you might like.”

“Hmm?” Damen tried to steal another kiss but Laurent stood up, the blanket pooling onto the floor. “What is it?”

Laurent took a deep breath, as if he was steeling himself. “Come into the bedroom in ten minutes. Knock before you enter.”

The door closed with a resolute thud.

Damen had no idea what just happened. Well, he did, but he didn’t know how to process it. There were many things a bedroom could imply but Damen knew not to jump to any conclusions.

With nothing to do but wait, Damen set a timer and began tidying their makeshift home theater. He tried not to think too much about what was happening behind those closed doors. By the time everything was put into place, his phone chimed. Ten minutes was up.

Damen knocked on the door, anticipation thrumming through his veins. “Laurent?”

“Come in.”

Damen pushed it open.

Laurent leaned against the bedpost, adorned in a floor-length blue dress.

It took Damen a second to process what he was seeing before his knees buckled. A hand reached out instinctively to balance himself and Damen clutched onto the doorknob for dear life.

Laurent had his hair down. He was wearing a dress. A blue dress. One with white lace embroidered on the V-neck and waistline. Three candles were lit on the nightstand, highlighting Laurent’s lithe figure. All Damen could do was stare at him. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing or not. His heartbeat was nonexistent. It didn’t matter because Laurent was wearing a blue dress.

“Close your mouth,” Laurent said, a pink blush spreading from neck to cheek. “You’re gaping like a fish out of water.”

“Laurent,” Damen breathed out. It was all he managed to say.

“I’ve always had an interest in feminine clothing.” Each word was precise, almost rehearsed. “Your business trip to Akielos presented the perfect opportunity to explore how I felt about it.” One of Laurent’s hands smoothed out the blue fabric. “This came in the mail yesterday. It was half on when you barged into the house. I barely had time to hide it.”

Damen thought back to the disheveled Laurent in an oversized sweater. He thought of the nondescript delivery box in the recycling. Their talk on the couch. It was as if all the pieces of the puzzle were coming together and Laurent, standing in front of him, was the final picture.

The wonderfully exquisite final picture.

Laurent crossed his arms, shielding the intricate bodice detailing from Damen’s eyes. “I take your silence as your opinion on the matter.” Laurent cast his eyes downwards. “I’ll go change. We won’t speak of this again.”

Damen surged forward, scrambling to his feet to stop Laurent from escaping into the ensuite. “No, please,” said Damen. “It’s just that – you look – I mean,”

“I’m concerned that you can’t form sentences.”

“Beautiful,” Damen blurted out. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

That caused Laurent to still.

Damen swallowed. “Can I touch you?” 

Laurent stiffened. “If that’s what you want.”

“But is that what you want?”

Laurent glanced at Damen before fixing his eyes on the ground again. “Go on then.”

Damen slowly traced the white lace on the neckline. It exposed the curves of Laurent’s collarbone and the long expanse of fine, pale skin. He hadn’t made contact with Laurent’s skin yet, but he felt his lover tremble at their proximity.

“It suits you,” said Damen, moving from the lace to the silky blue fabric. The way the dress curved around Laurent’s body brought out a more delicate side to his physique.

“T-that’s good to know.”

Damen hummed appreciatively and continued mapping out Laurent’s body with his hand. It settled against Laurent’s waist. The fabric was thin and he felt Laurent’s body heat radiating from it.

Damen leaned in, just next Laurent’s ear. “I love it,” he whispered. “Thank you for showing me.”

Laurent was still tense. It wasn’t an objection or a protest for Damen to stop, but the natural reaction of a man who felt vulnerable.

Damen tipped Laurent’s chin up. Their eyes met. “Can I kiss you?”

Laurent’s eyes widened, as if shocked that Damen would still want to kiss him. He nodded.

But Damen didn’t kiss Laurent on the mouth. Not yet. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the base of Laurent’s neck, just between his shoulder and collarbone. Damen smiled into Laurent’s skin as he felt the pulse quicken. He worked his way up, alternating between short, fast kisses and slow, open-mouthed ones. Damen nuzzled Laurent’s jawline, paying extra attention to the soft, tender skin underneath.

A hand gripped Damen’s bicep. “I don’t want sex tonight.”

“Okay,” said Damen easily and returned to the task at hand.

Laurent let out an unsteady breath. “Carry me to the bed,” he said. “I –” The pause made Damen look up. Laurent was turning a darker shade of pink. “I won’t be able to stand much longer if you continue.”

Damen stifled his laughter. With one arm around Laurent’s back, Damen bent down just far enough to get the arm under Laurent’s knees and lift him up, bridal style. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”

The distance to the bed was shorter than Damen anticipated. Not even two steps later, Damen’s knee knocked into the bedframe and he tipped forward. The momentum sent Laurent tumbling onto the sheets.

Laurent rolled onto his back and pushed the hair out of his face, shoulder’s shaking. At first, Damen was alarmed, thinking that Laurent was hurt. But no, Damen realized. Laurent was giggling. The sound was so wondrous Damen was tempted to pull out his phone to record it.

Damen smirked, crawling up the bed until he was on top of Laurent. “Don’t make fun of me and my attempt at romance.”

Instead of a response, Laurent pulled Damen down and kissed him, hard. Damen brought his free hand to cradle Laurent’s face, delivering long and deep kisses. Hands explored the expanse of Damen’s chest before drifting down to the hem of Damen’s shirt, pulling it a few times. Damen took the hint, breaking apart for a second to yank the offending item over his head. He didn’t know where it landed on the floor.  

Laurent slid his fingers into Damen’s hair, tugging him down so they could continue kissing. Their kiss deepened. Laurent’s mouth opened like a blossoming flower in the rain, growing more and more pliant. Damen couldn’t help but to groan at the first touch of Laurent’s tongue and the way it slid against his own. 

Damen’s hands slid down Laurent’s body, loving the way the dress felt between them. Everything about Laurent was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of it. 

Laurent gasped and broke the kiss. “I change my mind,” he said through heavy pants. “I want it. I want you.”

Damen wasn’t sure if he heard right. “What? Are you sure?”

“I don’t like repeating myself,” said Laurent. He reached down and began to push Damen’s shorts down. 

Damen reached a hand to his waistband to help Laurent when a sharp burst of pain caused him to flinch.

To his disbelief, Nicaise was on the bed, hackles and tail raised, hissing. Damen’s forearm was bleeding from two punctures in his skin. It wasn’t hard to guess the source of the wound.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Damen jumped off the bed, grabbing a tissue to absorb the blood. Whatever arousal building dissipated, much to his dismay. 

Laurent propped himself on his elbows, looking amused. “Maybe he does hate you.”

“I can’t believe a cat just cockblocked me,” said Damen. “You sure I can’t kick him?”

“I’m sure,” Laurent sat up and picked Nicaise up. The cat went limp, purring in Laurent’s arms. “I’ll go see if his water dish needs replenishing. You can get ready for bed if you want?”

“Okay,” Damen grumbled and headed to the bathroom.  

Damen was waiting on the bed – forearm bandaged – when Laurent returned. At the sight of Damen’s pout, Laurent pressed a placating kiss to his lips. “We’ll close the door next time.”

Damen brightened at that. “Will next time include a dress?”

“I wouldn't be opposed to it.” Laurent blushed. “I have another one being delivered.”

“What colour? Length?”

Laurent pushed Damen down on the bed. It was his turn to be on top. “It’s a surprise.”

Damen smiled up at him. “That’s something you never cease to do.”

“Well,” said Laurent. “I wanted to surprise you more than you've surprised me.”

Damen slipped a hand around Laurent’s waist, drawing him in. “It worked.” Damen kissed him. “The only thing that could make it even better would be a ribbon pinned to you. The perfect Christmas present.”

“I beg to differ,” said Laurent, nose scrunched up in distaste. “A bow wouldn’t suit this dress. It would be in poor taste.”

Damen laughed, lacing their fingers together. “We can’t have that, can we?” 

“Absolutely not.” Laurent leaned down to kiss Damen gently.

“Just the dress then,” Damen muttered against Laurent’s lips. “I’m more than alright with that.”

Laurent made a sound in agreement.

They spent the rest of the evening lying on the bed, exchanging kisses and sweet nothings.

It was the best Christmas Damen ever had.