“I do. Bought them on hope. Turned out to be a good call.” Kyle kissed his neck and let him go, heading for the coffeepot.
“You sit, cher. Rest that foot. I’ll fix you up.”
Kyle looked at him and then went back to his seat. “I’ll let you do that today, but I’m not dancing right now. I can walk. And while I can, tonight after dinner we should go see things. Skating and the big tree.”
“So long as you don’t hurt. You’d pet me, if I was sore, huh? I know that. I seen it with your dancers.”
Kyle waggled long fingers at him. “I would. I do try. You like my hand massages.”
“Love.” Hell, they were magic all on their own. “You want eggs?”
“Not if you’re really making pancakes.” Kyle sipped his coffee.
“I’m really making pancakes. Spoiled man.”
“So spoiled. So lucky. Did you have good Christmases, growing up?”
Colt shrugged. “I guess. Some. I left home at fifteen, so….”
He’d had some fun ones as a grown-up, that was for sure.
“Yeah, me too. Some. I was just thinking this is already one of the better ones. It’s not snowing, though. I wish it was snowing.”
“Maybe it’s waiting. It’s sure fixin’ to come up a cloud.” He started his pancake batter, humming gently.
“I’ll take a sniff outside next time I get up.”
The kitchen went quiet for a bit, and Kyle sipped his coffee. He sang while he worked, going through “Silent Night” and “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” “Blue Christmas,” and “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” When Kyle jumped in with a slightly jazzy version of “The Christmas Song” and forgot the words, he picked those up easily enough too.
And then it was piles of pancakes and bacon and Kyle telling him stories about why he should never, ever go ice skating.
“It’s fun to watch, though. I mean, if you want to try, you go right ahead, but I’m a complete disaster.” Kyle stuffed in another bite of pancake. He’d figured Kyle was up to six or seven and wondered where his lover was putting them all. “And don’t tell me that just because I’m a dancer I should be good at ice skating. I wonder if Timmy skates?”
“I haven’t the foggiest.” He didn’t think he would be good at that, and ice was slickery and hard.
“These are really good, baby. I haven’t had pancakes in forever.” Kyle picked up a piece of bacon and offered him a bite. “What’s your tradition? Midday dinner, food coma, and then a late-night snack? Or do you like dinner at dinnertime?”
“They gon’ bring supper at three. You watch football?” He didn’t care one way or the other. He sort of loved all the Christmas cartoons.
“That is amazing. You are amazing. Thank you again.” Kyle grinned and slid a hand under his and tickled his palm. “Nah. The Grinch doesn’t play football. Oh, but if that’s what you and Timmy want to do, that’s okay.”
“I likeThe Grinch, a lot. AndCharlie Brownand thePrep & Landingone too.”
“Frosty. Oh, andThe Island of Misfit Toys.The Year Without a Santa Claus.” Kyle chewed bacon, grinning like a kid. “I guess I know what we’re doing.”
“You and me and Timmy, snacks and blankets and cartoons.” He bounced on his toes, tickled as a pig in shit. “Hell yeah.”
He pushed over, stealing him a hard kiss.
Kyle made a startled sound and grabbed on to him, but settled right down, letting him have it all. Mmm… salty and sweet and….
“Merry Christmas, cher.”
“Merry Christmas, baby.” Kyle’s eyes flashed. “Presents?”
“I have one for you, yes. I brought it from home.”
“Aw. Thank you.” Kyle kissed his cheek and pushed him back lightly, trying to get up. “Yours are under the tree.”