The Candy Cane Brigade
TWO
Chris' foolproof plan had been an absolute failure. A disaster. A travesty of epic proportions. He couldn't understand it. Where had he gone wrong?
If he had to make a catalogue of the horror, the logical start would be the restaurant. On a good day, Kane was not a public person. Which explained the restrictions of their activities to solely the bedroom. Still, for Chris' sake, the man had shoved aside his insecurities and left his mask behind. One obstacle down.
They didn't have reservations. Christmas Eve and Chris Jericho had actually thought they could wing it. Walk into any restaurant and request a table. Chris hadn't been trying to take Kane to any old eatery. No chain restaurants for the first date with the Big Red Machine. Chris wanted a place with ambiance. Class. Maybe even those napkins folded into the shape of delicate swans.
Chris got laughed out of the first restaurant they tried. Apparently, they were so booked solid that there was a waiting list to get onto the waiting list. According to the snooty snot at the podium, a table wouldn't open up until damn near New Years. It was the same at the next three places they tried. Nothing available and a wait time that would have taxed the patience of any of the Three Wise Men.
Stomach and gas tank nearly on empty, they finally settled on a simple burger joint. The fries were oily, the waitress surly, and Chris' medium well burger cooked well beyond well-done. Still, it was the best they could do for the night. Chris swallowed his pride. It tasted better than his cheeseburger.
The absolute pinnacle of their pitiful evening occurred as they drove back to the hotel. An asshat in some pathetic Prius apparently thought that his decision to go green gave him the right to ignore the rules of the road. Namely that of yielding to oncoming traffic. Kane's pickup truck made scrap metal out of that high falutin hybrid. As a result of that impudent and idiotic behavior, Chris and Kane spent the worst part of an hour idling on the side of the road, taking pictures and police statements. The Prius' driver was lucky to walk away without a single bruise. Especially considering Chris' foul mood and repertoire of submission maneuvers.
Spirit shattered, Chris slid the key card into the hotel room lock. Kane stood behind him. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences since the police cruiser pulled off. A man of few words, but his eyes conveyed immense amounts of pity for poor Chris Jericho.
"It could have been worse," Kane said as the door swung shut behind them.
"Only if the Prius burst into flames." Once again, Chris' mouth had taken control without any prior consent from his brain. He banged his head against the wall. The increasing pain was the perfect end to his evening. "I am never talking again."
On occasion, Kane proved capable of kindness. He placed a pillow between Chris' pounding head and the structurally sound wall. "Quite beating yourself up. This isn't the worst night I've ever had."
"Yeah, but it was a sucky first date." Sighing heavily, Chris tossed the pillow back onto the bed. It bumped against the box of candy canes Jeff had given him. "You know me. Anything less than awesome is not the Jericho way." He was so down, he could barely muster an interest in getting Kane naked. A nude and fully aroused Kane never failed to perk him up.
Kane sat on the single, king-sized bed. He turned the box of candy canes over in his hands. "At least we've got dessert." His thick fingers tore through the plastic with ease.
At that moment, with his headache slowly subsiding, Chris did not give a flying fuck about those damn candy canes. Given the course of the night, they would probably give him a stomach ache. He took the candy, nonetheless.
Chris took his time unwrapping the candy cane. Sadly, it would probably prove to be the highlight of his Christmas Eve. He slid the candy between his lips. Twirled it absentmindedly. Not bad. He worried the candy would be too sweet. Instead, his mouth filled with a tasty watermelon flavor. Chris sucked it slowly. He had to remember to ask Jeff where he got them.
"Can you believe that douche bag tried to blame the accident on me?" Chris took the candy from his mouth, waving it around as he spoke. "Like I was just looking to get sideswiped. I wonder if he's still crying on the side of the road." He ran his tongue along the exposed stem of the candy cane.
Chris paused, mid-lick, when he heard Kane make a noise. A sound along the lines of a barely contained moan. The Big Red Machine held his candy cane by its colorful hook. He had yet to peel back the plastic. It worried Chris the way he sat stock still on the bed. The only movement was the rapid blinking of his deep blue eyes and the occasional flash of his pink tongue as it darted out to wet his lips.
"What's the matter?" Chris took a step towards the bed. "Don't you like it?"
Eyes traveling up and down the length of Chris Jericho, Kane said, "Oh, I like it." His voice was deep and his grin exceedingly wicked. He beckoned Chris closer. Once within range, he hauled the man onto his lap. "I like it when you lick it nice and slow."
Even if it meant puking his guts out come the morning, Chris Jericho fully intended to eat every last one of those candy canes. After all, he had an audience to entertain.