Chapter 5 All Hallmark Movies are a Little Gay #2
It was just that sometimes his brain didn’t get the message.
Thanks to a childhood filled with beatings and then a string of abusive exes, his fight, flight, freeze or fawn was always in overdrive.
In the beginning, right after he and Dimitri had gotten together, Arlo had asked his permission to do even the most basic things.
Even going to the bathroom or saying no to sex.
He’d tried to make sure that he folded his shirts just right or made his coffee the way he wanted it. Dimitri had spent six months drinking his coffee with sugar just because he didn’t want to spook Arlo by telling him he didn’t take his coffee that way.
He’d thought he was doing better. They hadn’t had any issues at all, not for months. Doing the dishes was a simple task. He’d been doing it for years now, without any issue. Until yesterday.
When the glass shattered, Dimitri came running immediately. Logically, Arlo knew he was just making sure he wasn’t hurt, but his brain just…glitched. He’d stumbled backwards trying to get away from him thinking he was in danger.
Even now he cringed thinking about it. Dimitri would never hit him.
He’d never even raised his voice at him.
He couldn’t think of a single time they’d even had a real argument.
But he wasn’t thinking of any of that at the moment.
He didn’t even feel the glass that sank into his foot, hadn’t even known it was there until Dimitri freaked out when he saw the blood.
Now Dimitri was convinced Arlo was too fragile for menial labor.
He cut off the sigh building in his chest, glancing out into their living room.
Their tree sat in the corner—their first real Christmas tree—cut down by them and dragged home, decorated with the finest ornaments Target had to offer.
Arlo had picked pale blue and white and silver to match their furniture.
There were white lights and garland twinkling on the balcony and giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling just above that. He’d lit candles all throughout the apartment that smelled like vanilla and…snow. He’d wanted everything to be perfect tonight.
“I’m fine. It’s all fine. You’re on your way home though, right?” He blushed. “Its our night to do the thing.”
Dimitri gave him a dirty smirk. “‘The thing’? I love it when you refer to sex as ‘the thing’.”
Arlo rolled his eyes. “Not that thing. The movie thing. The Christmas thing. It’s our tradition, right?”
Dimitri’s face dropped, but then he recovered, the corners of his mouth tugging back up. “Oh…that thing. I thought you said you wouldn’t ask me to do that anymore.”
Arlo wanted it on the record that he wasn’t proud of what he did next. He gave Dimitri a hurt look, pooching out his lip, taking a cue from Beans and trying to make his wide brown eyes look pitiful. “I didn’t know I had to ask?”
His performance wasn’t worthy of a voiceover asking for donations, but it had the desired effect. He could see his fiancé breaking down.
Dimitri groaned. “Baby…please. I’m fine watching the usual Christmas movies.
But the other ones there just…so cringe.
How many different ways can some big city rich girl with her life together go home for the holidays and marry some loser with a tree farm and six dollars to his name?
How many tree farms are there in the US anyway?
It. seems statistically impossible that all of those guys are single.
Besides, giving up everything and marrying a dude you met two days ago isn’t romance… it’s desperate.”
“I agreed to marry you after two days of knowing you.”
“Okay, yeah, but we were five…so…” Dimitri countered.
“This one’s different,” Arlo promised.
Dimitri gave him a suspicious look. “It’s not a love story between a city girl and a country bumpkin?”
“Well, okay it kind of is, but it’s still different.”
Dimitri’s expression was dubious. “How?”
“This one’s gay!”
“To be fair, all of those movies are pretty gay.”
Arlo glowered at him. “That’s offensive.”
Dimitri snorted. “Hey, if I am gay enough to dick you down, I’m gay enough to say those movies are kinda gay.” Before Arlo could protest, Dimitri frowned. “Uh, baby…what is smoking behind you?”
Arlo spun around, a distressed whine leaving him as he took in the pot on the stove. “Oh. Oh, no. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,” he chanted, disappointment ricocheting through him like a bullet. I gotta go. Hurry home. Bye.”
“Babe—”
Arlo hung up, yanking the pot off the burner and staring down at the black gelatinous ooze at the bottom. He hadn’t remembered turning the burner on. He flinched at the sound of four beeps and a click, glancing up just in time to see Dimitri fall through the door. “Baby! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he huffed, shoulders sagging as he stared at his ruined concoction.
Dimitri entered his space, wrapping muscular arms around him from behind. He was warm. Arlo leaned back against him without thought, inhaling the scent of his spicy deodorant and expensive cologne.
Dimitri peered over Arlo’s shoulder. He watched his nose wrinkle from her periphery. “What is that”
Arlo sighed, forlorn. The acrid smell coming from the pan almost overpowered Dimitri’s reassuring scent. “It was hot chocolate.”
“Oh,” he said, voice light. “Are you sure?”
Arlo huffed, giving him a dirty look over his shoulder. “What else would it be?”
Dimitri grinned, taking the wooden spoon from the counter and poking at the mess at the bottom of the pan, both of them recoiling when it hissed then rolled to the opposite side of the pan.
“Um, I’m pretty sure you accidentally made a symbiote,” he said, poking at it again. “You know, like Venom.”
Arlo whined low. “Don’t be mean.”
Dimitri chuckled. “Who’s being mean? Venom is way cooler than any hot chocolate recipe.”
Arlo sighed, becoming dead weight in Dimitri’s arms. “Everything is ruined. Totally ruined.”
He tried not to succumb to the sinking feeling, but it was slowly overtaking him.
Dimitri hugged him tighter, nuzzling his nose into his neck, words vibrating against him as he said, “Nothing is ruined, baby. We can try and make it again if you want. Together.”
“Why bother?” Arlo mumbled. “I just wanted tonight to be perfect.”
Dimitri’s lips traveled along the skin of his neck, up to his jaw, pressing a kiss to just behind his ear. “Our perfect night doesn’t have anything to do with hot chocolate flavored symbiotes,” Dimitri said. “We can still make the best of it.”
“You mean watch reruns of The Office and eat pizza in our underwear?” Arlo asked, sullen.
Dimitri bit his earlobe. “That does sound nice. But I mostly just meant having dinner together and then going to bed. Together.”
Arlo nodded, even as his eyes filled with tears. He tried to blink them away. But he wasn’t fast enough. “Okay. Let’s just…do that.” Dimitri fell silent. Arlo tried to free himself, but he held firm. “What are you doing?”
“Comforting you.”
“I’m fine,” Arlo said, then promptly sniffled.
“You’re not fine.”
“It's just I wanted us to have a—” A sob wracked his body—“…Christmas tradition,” he wailed.
Dimitri spun him around in his arms, eyes wide. Arlo didn’t have a chance to say anything before he was swallowed in his embrace. “I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please. I get it. I’m an idiot. We can have a Christmas tradition. We can do whatever you want. Just…please don’t cry.”
“I’m not trying to guilt you into this,” he sobbed.
“You’re not guilting me. I’m just…a dumbass. Ask my mom. Hell, ask literally anyone. You know I suck at these things. Please, don’t cry. Please.” He pulled back enough to frantically wipe at the tears on Arlo’s face. “If my mom finds out I made you cry she’s gonna kill me.”
Dimitri’s rambling distracted him enough to get a handle on his emotions, giving a couple of wet sniffles. “I’m-I’m fine. It’s fine. Let’s just get pizza.”
Dimitri shook his head. “No.”
“No?” Arlo parroted, lip quivering.
Now he didn’t even want pizza?
“No. We’re gonna drink hot chocolate and watch your gay little Christmas movie. Okay?”
“Not if you don’t want to,” Arlo said, shaking his head. “The only thing worse than not having a tradition is forcing you to participate in one.”
“Baby, look at me.” Arlo forced his gaze upward, heart skipping at the way Dimitri looked back.
“I will happily sharpen candy canes into tiny little shives and let you jab them into both of my eye sockets while I sing Christmas carols if it makes you stop crying. You know I can’t stand to see you cry.
I want all the traditions with you. I promise. Please don’t cry.”
Arlo blinked at him while his brain tried to process what he’d just said. Once his words sunk in, he couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted. It was such a sweetly psychotic thing to say. Very Dimitri.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “I love your eyes.”
“Well then let me have this, okay? You go take a shower. I’m gonna figure out food and then we can watch anything you want. Gay dudes boning in the woods, some rich girl with Stockholm syndrome selling her chocolate factory to her father’s arch nemesis or whatever. Anything you want. Okay?”
Arlo shook his head. “You’re crazy.”
“Takes one to know one,” he said, pushing Arlo towards the bedroom.
“There’s not a single member of our friend group who doesn't need a good grippy sock vacation, but none of us have time.” Arlo snorted, but allowed Dimitri to keep shuffling him out of the living area.
“Go, take a shower, get comfy, put on something of mine—preferably something slutty—like my old jersey—” He wiggled his brows— “and nothing else.”
“Fine,” Arlo finally said.
Dimitri grinned, pointing towards the kitchen. “While you’re gone, I’m gonna rehome Venom over there.”
Arlo slapped his arm, then headed to the bedroom.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood under the spray but it was starting to turn lukewarm by the time he stepped out.
He dried himself off, then combed fingers through his towel dried hair, before finding Dimitri’s jersey—the same blue and white as their Christmas tree—and slipping it over his head.
It was huge on him, falling to just past mid-thigh.
He slipped on a pair of white boxer briefs.
He knew better than to trust Dimitri to behave himself with no barriers between them.
When he wandered back to the main room, he found Dimitri sitting on the sofa.
He’d changed out of his street clothes. He wore his red and black flannel pajama pants and a sleeveless black t-shirt emblazoned with his frat’s Greek letters.
A Santa hat emblazoned with the word NICE sat slightly askew on his fluffy dark hair.
No man should look that hot in a Santa hat. Arlo was already regretting not taking the offer to just go fuck it out in bed. They weren’t fighting and even if they were, sex didn’t solve anything. But since meeting Dimitri a few good orgasms did tend to lend a little perspective.
Arlo’s heart squeezed when he noted his fiancé had also forced Java and Beans to participate.
They wore the silly hats Arlo had gotten them at the pet store last week.
Beans wore a hat with elf ears attached to a hood that covered his head leaving only his face visible, while Java wore a green and white knit cap with flaps that covered her ears and tied under her chin.
She looked embarrassed. Beans looked homicidal.
Dimitri jumped up as soon as he spotted Arlo, grabbing his hand and pulling him to him. He reached behind the sofa and brandished a hat that matched his, only this one said NAUGHTY on the front.
Arlo let him place the hat on his head but he narrowed his eyes at him. “I think you may have given me the wrong hat.”
“Uh-uh. I think if Santa knew exactly what you get up to when we go to bed at night he would see just how naughty you can be. Dirty baby.”
Arlo stuck his tongue out. Dimitri caught it between his thumb and forefinger, giving Arlo a look that made his underwear feel tight. When he let go, Arlo shivered, then mumbled, “Perv.”
Dimitri laughed, flopping back onto the sofa and dragging Arlo down into his lap, snagging the remote. “Pizza will be here in an hour. I already found your gay little Christmas movie, see?”
Arlo was so distracted by his gorgeous man that he hadn’t noticed the two cups sitting on the coffee table until they finally settled. “What’s that?”
“Your hot chocolate.”
Arlo frowned. “Huh?”
“You got the recipe from my mom, right?” Dimitri asked.
“How did you know that?”
“She’s been making it for me every winter since I was in diapers. I recognized the recipe on the counter.” He reached past Arlo and handed him the white mug brimming with whipped cream. “Here.”
Arlo stared at him for another thirty seconds before bringing the cup to his lips and taking a sip. The rich taste of chocolate exploded on his tongue making him moan. “Oh, my God. That’s so good. How are you so good at this?”
Dimitri snorted, poking Arlo in the ribs softly. “I’m a barista. We both are. The question is, how are you so bad at it?”
Arlo took another delicate sip, giving him a haughty look. “It’s a lot harder to make a symbiote than hot chocolate.”
“But not nearly as festive,” Dimitri countered.
“I don’t know, I could have drawn a Santa hat on him too or something. I’m great at latte art.”
“You really are,” Dimitri agreed, then pressed play.
Arlo took another couple of sips then returned the cup to the table to nestle deeper into Dimitri’s arms, tucking his head under his chin. They were five minutes in when Arlo said, “Babe…this isn’t the right movie.”
Dimitri paused, pointing the remote at the television. “But-those two are super gay.”
“They’re gay, but they’re not the right gays. It’s a different Christmas movie.”
Dimitri snorted, giving him a satisfied smirk. “See. I told you all Christmas movies are a little gay.”
Arlo flicked his forehead, then dropped a kiss on it. “It’s fine. We can just watch both.”
Arlo swore he heard the cat and dog join in on Dimitri’s groan.