It was fucking freezing outside. Alöis shivered a little, pulling up his scarf to shield his face as much as possible, ears flattened to keep snow out of them. He was grateful for the fact that he had hooves–it made finding footholds much easier in this abysmal weather. He shifted the bundle of packages in his arms, huffing a little and shaking the snowflakes out of his face. He was almost home, and he hoped that Imbriel had at least made tea or something, because he needed something to warm him up. Of course, there were other ways to warm up too, he reasoned. Not that Imbri would be forthcoming with that.
Pity.
The door handle refused to budge when his hands fumbled for it. Cursing vehemently under his breath, Alöis was forced to remove one of his gloves to open the damn thing. He opened the door and barreled inside, slamming it shut and shivering. However, he slumped against the door and closed his eyes, taking in the rush of warmth that swept over him. After a moment, he took off his coat, gloves, and scarf, hanging them up on the hooks beside the door. He shook himself, the slowly melting snow in his hair flying everywhere. He then scraped his hooves on the jagged metal box on the floor, watching in satisfaction as the clumped mass of snow and dirt came off his feet, including that one fucking rock which had lodged itself under his heel. It had been bugging him half the walk home, and it was a relief to have it out of there.
Feeling much more comfortable now, the Amon made his way out of the hall towards the living room. As he walked, however, he noticed something different about the house. Raising an eyebrow, his gaze roamed the walls, which were covered in bright Christmas lights which had certainly not been there when he left. ‘And,’ he paused, tilting his head to the side and swiveling his ears this way and that, ‘Is that music?’
He crossed the threshold of the living room, and stopped dead, blinking in surprised confusion. The Christmas lights continued their path all the way around this room too, eventually wrapping themselves around a tree next to the fireplace. Said tree was laden with ornaments, tinsel, and even a few candy canes. Beneath it were a few presents wrapped in shiny wrapping paper, and at the very top was a gleaming silver star. The air smelled of pine and cookies, and Alöis turned his head towards the kitchen as he heard a deep voice singing along with the music. Tentatively, doing his best to mask his footfalls, he tip-toed over to the doorway that led to the kitchen. He peered around the corner, and then had to bring his hand up to his mouth to keep himself from laughing aloud.
There stood Imbriel–mighty, impressive, grumpy, scary Imbriel–a red apron covering his half-naked form, arms covered in flour and dough and sprinkles and frosting. His hair was up in some kind of messy ponytail, looking as though it had been put that way because he’d forgotten to before he started and had to pull it back whilst in the middle of his project. There was a some dried dough in the dark tresses, and it was most likely not going to be fun to wash out. Alöis continued to watch his lover, grinning as the Xeraphim continued to make cookies, singing and looking like he was genuinely enjoying himself. It was a hilarious sight to behold, although Alöis couldn’t help thinking that the other male was rather adorable. He’d never say that aloud, or Imbri would murder him.
Straightening up and moving to lean against the doorframe, the Amon positioned himself provocatively, smug grin on his face.
“Having fun there?”
Imbriel gave a little jump in surprise, looking behind him like he’d just been caught stealing some priceless gem. It was obvious this had not been how he’d planned their meeting. His eyes flicked to the clock, a furious blush rising through his cheeks.
“You weren’t supposed to be home for another two hours!” he exclaimed gruffly, looking extremely embarrassed.
“Tülay was unfortunate enough to stand under the mistletoe. Needless to say, he and Sägan retired for the evening, and with the host of the party gone, it would’ve been rather awkward for us all to say. Especially with Sägan doing . . . things. I don’t wanna see that, thank you very much. I value my eyesight.” said Alöis, shaking his head.
“However, this,” he purred, moving closer to his flustered lover. “Is something that I do not mind seeing.”
Imbriel backed up a little, but Alöis kept coming towards him, catching one of the Xeraphim’s hands in his own. He brought it towards his mouth, tongue darting out to lick at the dough-covered fingers. He sucked on it, cleaning the digit firmly with his tongue, grey eyes flickering upwards to look at the shocked man in front of him. When he pulled away, he wet his lips, smiling.
“Tastes good,” he said, peering up at Imbriel from beneath his lashes. “Oh, by the way, your cookies are burning.”
With an “ah!” of surprise, Imbriel was startled out of his . . . reverie, and dashed for the oven, grabbing his oven mitts and rescuing the batch of sugar cookies. He turned them over anxiously, but only one or two was moderately singed. Alöis, cat-like smirk on his face, reached over and picked up one of the finished cookies from the counter, looking at it. It was a star, covered in white frosting and silvery sprinkles, like several others scattered on the other platters of sweets. A select few were packaged in red saran-wrap, with tags saying “To Sägan and Tülay” “To Dmitri and Axis”, and one that looked rather half-assed on which was scrawled (obviously reluctantly) “To Sentriel”. In each was at least one cookie that looked like the intended recipient, painstakingly decorated with intricate details–as observed by the Dmitri and Tulay cookies which, if one looked close enough at their faces, even bore their tattoos. Alöis’ favorite by far, however, was the batch for Sentriel: the plate was covered with wings, scythes, and other various shapes with red frosting splattered on them like blood. There was also one tiny cookie suspiciously shaped like a heart, but Imbriel would never own up to putting something like that in his sister’s plate.
Continuing to grin to himself, Alöis devoured the cookie in his hands, licking his fingers when he was done. He had to admit it, his lover could cook like it was nobody’s business. He heard the sound of a throat clearing, and he looked over at the Xeraphim, who was removing his apron and hanging it up sheepishly, still looking fiercely embarrassed. There was a chink in his armor, and Alöis knew that with just one teasing word, he could completely destroy the other’s self-esteem. There was a strange sense of power in that, and perhaps when they had only first known each other (‘Back when we hated each other’) he might have taken that opening, but he couldn’t now.
“Oi. Wait up there, ‘Bri.” he said, following after his lover and wrapping his arms around the other’s retreating back. He nuzzled into the Xeraphim’s neck, giving it a gentle kiss.
“Everything looks . . . nice. And the cookies are delicious.” he said, resting his head on the other’s shoulder and looking up at him. Alöis wasn’t exactly over the moon about Christmas, but it was obvious that Imbriel was. And it wouldn’t hurt his pride too bad to play along.
“You . . . like it?” Imbriel asked, swallowing a little nervously and trying very hard to look indifferent.
Alöis grinned, dipping his head a little.
“Why wouldn’t I, babe?”
And, when he received a tentative smile in return, he knew he’d said the right thing.
