Chapter 10 #2
Glancing down at this bag, Bryce pulled out the Dungeon Master Guide. “You wanna be the DM and write the campaign?”
Pink eyes wide, Rusty shook his head. “No, I wasn’t trying to steal your role. I just—”
“You’d be doing me a favor. I prefer to play,” Bryce said, pushing the book into Rusty’s hands. “I figured I’d have to be the DM since I’m the one who knows the game, but I really ain’t that creative.”
Black claws curled around the book. “I don’t know how to play though.”
“Well, read through the book. You can borrow my Player’s Handbook and the Monster Manual too. See if you get inspiration.”
Rusty’s tail puffed up as he took the three books, and he smiled wide enough to show his canines. “Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I really do prefer being a player. But if you read through it and don’t wanna be the DM, that’s fine too. We can go with the campaign I’ve been planning.” He clapped Rusty on the shoulder. “Give it go. Text me if you have questions.”
“Thanks, man,” Rusty said as a low purr vibrated in his chest. Then he was scurrying away, sidling up to Gem as the Araknis ran several hands absently through the fur on his back and head.
Upon returning home that evening, Bryce found Zef decorating a short, stout evergreen-adjacent tree.
Well, technically, it looked more like a bush, but it had similar needle-like foliage.
They had draped tinsel and streamers over it, and they’d even hung homemade paper snowflakes from the branches as ornaments.
Frozen in the entry, Bryce gaped at the Hellian Christmas tree as Zef fidgeted with the buttons of their shirt with their lower hands, their top hands worrying the end of their braid.
“I know it is not exact,” they said, wings fluttering with nervous energy, “but it is the closest genus we have to your human Christmas trees. Nan assisted me in picking it out, and she also advised me on the decorations. It does not look like the pictures I found on the internet, but I hope it will suffice.”
Emotion clogged Bryce’s throat, cutting off his ability to speak, and his silence made Zef even more anxious. Their antennas curled inward, their wings vibrating as they worried their bottom lip with their small, blunt teeth.
“I know you are disappointed that you cannot be with your family for Christmas, so I thought, if it is agreeable, we could celebrate together. I read it is customary to exchange gifts and wear special holiday clothing and pray to a magical baby that lives in a barn. I will not take part in the last tradition, but I would very much like to observe.”
They pointed to the side table standing between the two lounge chairs, where they’d set up a nativity scene.
“I have already set up the altar in what I believe to be the most common configuration with the magical baby in the center. There were several arguments online over the inclusion of the drummer boy”—they bent down and retrieved even more figurines from a box—“and whether the animals in the barn should be typical livestock or more inclusive with a ca-meel?” They stumbled over the pronunciation.
“I assumed you would make the final call on that depending on your personal preference.”
Moisture burned his eyes, blurring his vision as he swallowed thickly, and Zef released an alarmed clicking sound in the back of throat. “Oh dear, you are about to cry. Is it the altar or the tree? I can throw them both away if—”
“No, it’s great,” Bryce choked out, clearing his throat as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Really, Zef, it’s perfect.”
They slumped in relief. “Oh. Good.”
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I know. I did it because I wanted to,” they said matter-of-factly. “I hoped it would help you feel less sad, but now you are crying, so I am confused.”
“Good tears,” he reassured them, wiping at his cheeks as he chuckled awkwardly. “These are good tears, I promise. If you were human, I’d be hugging you right now.”
Another odd series of clicks trilled from the Mantodea, and he swore their cheeks darkened in a delicate blush.
They cautiously closed the distance between them until they stood within arm’s length.
For a moment, Bryce thought they were going to hug him, and his stomach dropped to his toes. They didn’t, of course.
Instead, they stretched out one hand and patted his shoulder three times. “There, there,” they said, and he burst into wet laughter.
“Thank you. Really, this is… it really means a lot.”
Zef smiled tentatively, antennas unfurling until they stood tall once more. “You are very welcome. I am looking forward to experiencing human Christmas with you.”
“Me too,” Bryce said, slowly reaching out to give the end of their braid a playful tug. “I don’t pray to baby Jesus, though.”
Another wave of relief washed over their expression. “I will be honest, I am relieved. I found the story rather appalling, what with the nonconsensual impregnation of a child who was then forced to give birth outside surrounded by animal excrement.”
“Spoiler alert, the baby dies in the end,” Bryce whispered, and Zef reared back.
“How horrifying.”
When Christmas finally arrived, it fell on a Friday, which meant Bryce had to go to class and Zef was working.
By unspoken agreement, they celebrated the holiday on Saturday, instead.
Bryce managed to sleep in, waking around nine to the smell of coffee and something sweet baking.
Zef’s dulcet tones echoed down the hall from the kitchen, and Bryce sat up in confusion when he heard Nan’s voice responding.
As quietly as he could, Bryce tiptoed out of his room and snuck to the mouth of the hallway, blatantly eavesdropping as Zef video-called with his grandmother.
“Why is it not working? I followed your instructions diligently,” Zef was saying as they crouched in front of the oven.
“I don’t know, kid.” Nan’s voice crackled through Zef’s phone speaker. “But those cinnamon rolls are looking chopped, no cap.”
“Nan, this is no time for your popular human vernacular that I do not understand!” Zef snapped heatedly. “This is an emergency. Bryce’s Christmas breakfast is melting.”
Grinning obnoxiously, Bryce propped his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest as he listened to Zef and Nan bicker over whose fault it was that the cinnamon rolls weren’t rising.
Zef claimed that Nan’s instructions were faulty, while Nan insisted Zef must have made a mistake.
Zef, of course, took great offense to this, their wings flaring out like an insect under threat trying to make themself bigger.
“Is the oven even on?” Nan asked, and Zef whistled in annoyance.
“Of course the oven is on. It has been pre-heating for ten minutes.”
“Maybe turn the temp up? Blast those mofo’s!”
“Mom, language!” Bryce heard his mother’s voice exclaim from the background.
“Oh, hush, Berni. I’m old. I’m allowed to curse if I want.” To Zef, Nan said, “Don’t stress about the cinnamon rolls, Zef. By the way Bryce is looking at you with googoo eyes right now, I don’t think he cares if they melt.”
Both Bryce and Zef straightened, the Mantodea spinning around with a cry of dismay as Bryce fought a blush at being called out. They stared at each other for several long seconds before Zef mumbled a quick goodbye to Nan and disconnected the video call.
“You cannot be here yet. I am not prepared!” they said, their lower hands fiddling with the tie of their fluffy, pink robe.
Their hair was in another messy braid, the tail dangling over their shoulder as numerous flyaways framed their angular face.
The barbs of their feet tick, tick, ticked against the tile floor as their antennas wriggled jerkily.
They looked frazzled, which wasn’t a word Bryce could often use to describe them, and it was… It was just so darn cute.
“Morning, Zef,” he said with a soft smile. “Merry Christmas.”
“Christmas is canceled,” they proclaimed, somewhat childishly. “Nan has sabotaged your breakfast. I accidentally knocked the altar, causing several figurines to fall over, and now, the magical baby is broken! And I am not wearing the traditional celebratory garb. We must postpone.”
Knowing better than to laugh at them when they were upset, he fought his amused grin as he approached the oven and peeked inside.
The cinnamon rolls did look rather goopy, but he figured they just needed more time to bake.
Baby Jesus in his manger was split in half on the counter, but it wasn’t anything super glue couldn’t fix.
As for the traditional clothing, Bryce wasn’t even sure what they were talking about.
He was still in his flannel pajama pants and an old t-shirt with a hole in the left armpit. Zef’s robe didn’t feel out of place.
“I bet if we turn up the temp a bit, the cinnamon rolls will plump right up. If you want to go get changed, I’ll glue Jesus back together, then brush my teeth.
We can do presents and drink coffee while we wait for breakfast,” he said gently, resisting the urge to rub Zef’s arms in reassurance.
“We don’t have to cancel Christmas. If anything, things not going according to plan is pretty on par for human holidays. ”
After a moment of consideration, they relaxed slightly. “What if we are late to Oliver’s Christmas party?”
“It’s barely nine A.M. and the party doesn’t even start til three. I think we got time.”
Barely mollified, Zef wiggled their shoulders in the Mantodean version of a shrug. “Well, you are the Christmas expert here, I suppose. If you wish to proceed, I will go change.”
“Sounds good.”
Before they left the kitchen, they paused at his side, their shoulder within kissing distance of his. “Merry Christmas, Bryce.”
“Merry Christmas, Zef.”
With a small smile, they ducked their head and shuffled to their bedroom. They reappeared before Bryce even had a chance to pick up the two halves of baby Jesus, carrying a canvas bag. Setting it on the kitchen island, they patted it twice.
“Nan said you did not bring your traditional Christmas clothing with you, so I ordered you some when I purchased mine.” Their wings buzzed in excitement as they pushed the bag across the counter.
“I checked your laundry to ensure I bought the right size. I apologize for the invasion of privacy, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”
They didn’t wait for Bryce to respond, leaving the bag in the center of the island as they returned to their room and shut the door. A little worried now, Bryce dragged the bag over the marble and peeked inside. There was a lot of red and white. Had Zef bought them Santa hats?
He glued baby Jesus back together first and left him beside the sink to dry as he took the bag with his “Christmas clothing” back into his room.
After he brushed his teeth and used the toilet, he turned over the canvas bag and emptied it onto his bed.
A flat package slapped onto the mattress as a Santa hat fluttered to rest beside it.
Warily, he flipped the plastic package over to see what lay inside. An honest-to-God Santa costume. But not just any Santa costume. Zef had bought him a sexy Santa costume.
Oh God, they’d used the internet unsupervised again, hadn’t they?
As sexy costumes went, it wasn’t terribly flashy.
The red vest lined with white fur had no buttons or fastening, meant to lay open over Bryce’s bare torso, and the hat didn’t say anything offensive or suggestive.
And the bottoms were a simple pair of red shorts, not briefs or skimpy underwear, thankfully.
But, damn, if they weren’t short. Like, really short.
They were never going to fit, he reasoned as he tugged them up his thick thighs. Against all rhyme or reason, they did. But good Lord, they were so short. Little, red booty shorts designed for twinks or gym rats. Not chubby boys like him.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The undersides of his butt cheeks were drafty when he moved, and his big, hairy belly was on full display under the vest. He looked, in a word, ridiculous.
He’d halfway removed the vest, intent on changing into a hoodie and jeans before he remembered Zef’s excited expression as they patted the bag.
They were trying so hard to give him the perfect Christmas, and they’d be crushed if he told them these clothes weren’t actually a traditional holiday outfit.
They were already upset about the cinnamon rolls and the broken nativity figurine.
Bryce couldn’t bring himself to destroy another one of their hopes.
Which meant he was going to have to wear this, at least for the duration of the morning.
For Zef. He could survive a few hours of embarrassment for Zef.
Plus, they’d be wearing the same thing, right? They’d look ridiculous together, and there was something kind of wonderful about that.
Blowing out a breath, Bryce nodded at his reflection. “Okay, Santa, let’s go.”