Justin has always loved Christmas. Not only the presents, the turkey, the tree: he loves the corny old black-and-white movies, the street-corner Santas, the carols; he loves the way people seem to be just a little bit nicer - the way they smile more, are more polite to each other. He loves the air of bustle and anticipation, the eager expressions on kids' faces as the day draws ever nearer – in short, he completely buys all of it.
But now he lives with Brian, and things are different.
Brian doesn't believe in Christmas anymore than he believes in birthdays. To Brian, the only memorable thing about Christmas Day is that Babylon will actually be closed and he'll have to engineer his own entertainment; a fact which doesn't improve his festive spirit at all.
Of course, he has to make a token effort now because of Gus – he has to actually buy a present. But he's made it quite clear to Justin that that's the only concession he's making. Brian hopes it'll be a couple of years yet before the kid starts whinging about (God forbid) decorating the Loft.
As far a Brian's concerned, most of Christmas Day will be spent in bed. He knows he'll have to get up for the family dinner at Deb's because the munchers are bringing Gus, and it's simply not worth the hassle if he doesn't show. But apart from that, his Christmas preparation consists solely of laying in a supply of Jim Beam, a couple of cartons of cigarettes, the best weed he can get his hands on and a stack of the latest porn movies, courtesy of Ted.
Justin tries not to care.
He tries to work out his list of presents, very much aware that this year he'll have to operate on a strictly limited budget. He's been buying bits and pieces for months, trying to spread the expense; he has a small bottle of perfume for his mother, a CD for Molly, a teddy bear for Gus. He's finished a nice sketch of Linds and Mel which he's framed for them, bought a diary for Ted, and got the Pirates of the Caribbean DVDfor Daph. She's such a Johnny Depp slut.
That leaves Deb, Vic, Michael and Emmett. And Brian.
Justin hasn't made up his mind what to do about Brian.
He knows Brian won't want a gift – he's pretty sure Brian will be really pissed if he gets one. But he's the person Justin loves most, and the idea of not giving him a present for Christmas seems wrong, somehow.
Justin assesses his finances; he's got one more week's pay to come from the diner, but he desperately needs new ink jet cartridges and more printing paper before college starts again, so he has to leave enough money to cover them. If he's careful, he should just about make it.
The Saturday before Christmas sees Justin braving the crowds at the Mall looking for bargains. He picks up a scarf and mitten set in lurid rainbow colours for Deb and a pair of nice fleece-lined slippers for Vic. He finds a Chocolate bubble bath in Body Shop for Emmett, and a Spiderman T shirt for Michael. He decides to celebrate with a coffee and a doughnut at the cafeteria.
As he's sitting enjoying his treat, watching the package-laden shoppers hurry past, his eye suddenly lights on the new Italian leather-wear shop; he decides to go and check out the lines so he can give Brian a report. He finishes his coffee and strolls over.
Justin loves leather. He wanders up and down the aisles, inhaling the warm, masculine scent; occasionally running his fingers along the soft sleeve of a jacket or coat. He glances at the prices and thinks Brian will certainly be impressed. Maybe they can come back and look around together.
Justin finds himself at the accessory display and examines the belts and wallets, wondering if he can run to something. And that's when he sees the gloves.
They're Moreschi, black kid. They're lined with cashmere. They're soft and supple and elegant and sexy and they're exactly what Justin wants.
They're $170.
Justin thinks how wonderful they'll look on Brian's hands.
If he buys them, he'll be totally cleaned out.
He doesn't hesitate.
Christmas Eve at Babylon is a riot, and they don't get home until nearly three. They don't have to be at Debbie's until lunchtime, so they sleep in late and have a nice slow Christmas morning fuck. While Brian goes for a piss, Justin digs in his drawer for the gloves. He's wrapped them simply, no bows or ribbons, and he lays them on Brian's pillow. When Brian comes back he pulls up short and raises his eyebrows.
"What's this?" he asks warily.
"It's for you." Justin grins in anticipation.
Brian picks up the package and gets slowly back into bed. He turns it over and over, studying it as though it might bite him.
"Go on," Justin says, nudging him. "Open it."
Brian does. He stares at the gloves, then at this Justin. "You … bought these?"
Justin's stomach squirms at his tone. "I just wanted to get you something."
Brian's expression is stoney.
Justin tries again. "I mean … I know you think it's all bullshit … and I know you haven't got me anything, and that's fine … I just wanted to say 'thank you' … for everything … and …"
His voice tails off.
"You don't owe me anything!" Brian snaps. "Jesus Christ, Justin, why do you want to waste your money on shit like this? It's not like you have much in the first place!"
He tosses the gloves on the bed, jumps to his feet and heads towards the bathroom. A couple of minutes later the shower comes on.
Justin buries his face in the pillow.
They get to Debbie's house just after twelve o'clock. Everyone else is already there, and there's talk and laughter as Vic serves drinks and Debbie bustles in and out of the kitchen. The smell of roasting turkey fills the house. Gus is overwhelmed by the noise of carols and the blaze of decorations, and he sits silently in Lindsey's lap, all open mouth and wondering eyes.
Presents are exchanged. Justin gets The History of Modern Art from Mel and Linds; a pair of Toastie socks from Em ("I know how cold that Loft is, sweetie!); a diary from Ted ("Snap!"). Ted gives everyone diaries. Apparently it's traditional.
Michael gives him a festive thong with Santa's Little Helper emblazoned across the crotch. Debbie hands him a package ("from Vic and me, Sunshine, because he looks so much like you!") Justin surveys the ornament; a blond waif who looks about eight years old, clutching a drum. It plays a tinkly version of Little Drummer Boy. (Vic later apologetically and surreptitiously slips $20 into Justin's pocket.)
Michael is the only one to give Brian a present; a jumbo box of condoms. Apparently, that's traditional, too.
They all squeeze round Debbie's table for Christmas dinner, and Justin tries his very best to join in the occasion. Luckily he's promised to go to his mother's for supper, so he has a reason not to eat much without Deb getting pissy about it.
He doesn't feel like eating.
After the mince pies and cream and coffee Justin helps Vic and Deb clear up while the others crash in front of the television. Justin makes his excuses as soon as Deb suggests party games, and Brian is only too eager to offer him a lift. Justin knows that Brian can't wait to get back to get back to his Christmas-free zone. He gathers up his presents, shares hugs and kisses, and follows Brian to the Jeep.
They don't speak until Brian pulls up outside Jennifer's. Then Brian says simply, "Call me when you're ready to leave. I'll pick you up."
Justin nods and climbs out.
Supper at his mother's is horrible. Justin can't help but remember Christmas at the old house: picking a real tree with Dad; struggling home with it, helping him decorate, piling presents underneath. When they were still a family.
Molly picks at her food and hardly speaks. She's sulky because Jennifer insisted that she stay to eat supper with her brother instead of comparing presents with her friends, and she's obviously blaming him. Justin wonders what else she blames him for.
Mom tries to be cheerful enough for all of them, and Justin makes himself smile and chat and eat a little for her sake. He's changed into the black cashmere turtleneck she gave him, and she laughs and says he looks just like Andy Warhol. Only much more handsome.
It's nearly seven when he gets ready to leave, and it's beginning to snow. Justin gives Molly a thank-you hug for the new sketchbook and pencils, and is rewarded with quick hug back. It seems that now he's about to get out of her hair, she feels she can afford to be generous.
Jennifer peers out into the darkness and the swirling white specks. "I thought Brian was coming to pick you up …"
"He is, Mom. I'm just going to call him." Justin holds her close for a second and kisses her cheek. She presses a fold of notes into his hand.
"Mom, no. I can't take your money … I don't need it."
Jennifer gives him a don't you answer back to me, young man look. "Justin, we're doing okay, me and Molly. Now you take this. Buy something you need for college. Or better still just treat yourself."
Justin ducks his head, shoves the notes into his pocket. "Okay. If you're sure."
"It's part of your present." She laughs and turns up his collar, tightens his scarf more snugly. She makes him feel about ten years old again. "Let me know about New Year."
"I will. Thanks, Mom. Happy Christmas … you too, Mollusc."
He turns at the bottom of the steps and waves. Then he walks off into the dark.
Justin doesn't call Brian. Instead he walks through the deserted streets watching the sleet shimmer in the streetlights and settle in slushy puddles on the pavement. Normally snow on Christmas night would make his heart lift like a little kid's; now he just hunches his shoulders against the wind, and thinks that it doesn't feel any bleaker than he does.
When Justin pulls back the Loft door, he wonders if he's hallucinating. There are candles crowding the kitchen counters and the tables, even standing on saucers on the floor; their soft, flickering light reflected in glass, chrome and polished wood. The room looks like a star-studded grotto. The scent of cinnamon, clove and sandalwood vie with the sharper tang of pot.
Jazz music is playing softly.
Brian gets up from the sofa and strides towards him "Hey. I thought you were going to call me." He's changed into old jeans and a black vest.
Justin shrugs. "I didn't want to bother you. You know I like walking." His gaze is still wandering the Loft unbelievingly. "What's all this?"
Brian pulls him in for a long, warm kiss, and then holds him at arm's length while he brushes wet snow from Justin's hair and shoulders. "You're fucking freezing, twat. Get that coat off while I fetch a towel."
He disappears to the bathroom while Justin takes off his scarf and coat and hangs them up. Brian returns with a towel and begins to rub Justin's hair vigorously. He smiles at the jumper. "Nice. Present from Mommy?"
Justin nods. He's not at all sure what's going on.
Brian throws the towel onto the back of a chair and winds his arms round Justin, pulling him to the sofa. "Here, sit down." He kneels on the floor, pulls off Justin's trainers and socks, and gently rubs his cold feet. When he's satisfied he gets up and goes to the bedroom, returning with Emmett's Toastie socks. He puts them on Justin's feet, snugging them round his ankles. "Better?"
Justin nods again. He's stunned.
"Wait there." Brian walks back towards the kitchen, and Justin can hear him rummaging around. When he comes back he's carrying a large cardboard box, with a big red bow taped to the lid. He puts it on Justin's knees. "Open it."
Justin stares at it, then at Brian. "Is it going to blow up in my face?"
Brian smirks. "Just open it, Sunshine."
Justin lifts off the lid, gapes for a moment and then begins to giggle. The box is full of all the goodies that Justin loves – Thai Sweet Chille chips, Snickers bars, a couple of packs of Orios, a box of Cheerios. There's even two pints of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream.
"Brian …" Justin can't believe it.
"There's more. Look at the bottom."
Justin delves around and comes up with an envelope. Inside are two first class air tickets to Aspen.
"I hope you can ski, Sunshine," Brian grins. "I don't plan for you to spend New Year in bed. Not with a broken leg, at any rate."
Justin knows better than to say thank you. Instead he jumps up, throws his arms round Brian's neck and does his best to express his emotions wordlessly.
After a while Brian pushes him gently off, and moves over to the table, picks something up. He stands with his back to Justin for a moment, then turns round.
He's wearing the black kid gloves.
Justin's mouth hangs open as he takes in how Brian looks in his black vest, with his tanned, muscled arms and those totally hot gloves on his hands.
Totally. Fucking. Hot.
And then Brian is pushing up Justin's sweater, brushing his leather-clad fingers lightly over Justin's belly, making him gasp.
"Happy Christmas, Sunshine," he breathes into Justin's ear.
Justin thinks it might be the best ever.