Page 56 of Snow Storm

“Then we can add mine to your little pile.” Claude traced a touch over Harley’s lips. “You deserve to be spoiled. To feel special.”

“I am. And I do.”

They kissed again, and then Claude’s legs started to tremble, so Harley helped him back up, and he sat down. “Let me go take care of myself,” Claude said. “I won’t be long.”

“I’ll get coffee going. We know I can do that without burning something.”

Claude laughed and stared at him for a moment longer before heading off.

By the time he was done with his morning routine, Claude was feeling better. He’d put on his orthotics under his Christmas pajamas that Lyric had given him, then made his way into the living room to find a little picnic set up. Harley was in his own set of new pajamas—Claude had no idea how Lyric managed to find an extra set—or whose gift she’d swiped them from—but the fact that they were matching made him smile.

“We’re both Santas,” Harley said, his cheeks pink. “Does she do this every year?”

“Every other year,” Claude said. He walked over to the sofa and collapsed in the nest of blankets Harley had arranged. On the table in front of them was a small spread of fruit, pastries, a stack of pancakes far taller than Claude would ever eat, a little pot of whipped cream, and two mugs of something steaming with thick foam on top. “Cappuccino?”

Harley raised a brow, then laughed. “Dirty hot chocolate.” He reached for a mug and passed it over.

Claude had no idea what that meant until he took a sip. There was the faintest bite of alcohol, followed by the richness of coffee mixed into the chocolate. He was glad he hadn’t taken muscle relaxers that morning. “Who came up with this?”

“My brother and I used to make them when we were younger. Rebellious teenagers trying to deal with shitty family,” he clarified.

Claude hummed as he took a few more sips. Normally he didn’t indulge, but it was Christmas, and the drinks weren’t strong. He settled back against his lover and smiled when Harley curled into him. “Are you two close?”

“Me and Wes?” Harley let out a soft hum. “We’re closer now than we used to be. He kind of took my mom’s side a lot, and she doesn’t like me much.”

“Your mother?”

Harley let out a soft huff. “Yeah. Trust me, that whole idealized, you fall in love with your kid the moment they’re born doesn’t apply to every parent. She had a very…” He trailed off in thought. “Unforgiving idea of what she wanted her life to be like. My father and I didn’t live up to that. She tried her best to shape me into the perfect son, but it didn’t work. I was always socially awkward and weird, and no amount of punishing me and isolating me from my hobbies was going to change that.”

Claude felt another rush of anger for his lover and the things he’d been through. “That must have been hard.”

“It sucked. I think I still struggle with the concept of unconditional love because I didn’t experience much of it. My dad was better—not the best, but he was there for me in ways she never was. Losing him was hard. He was my only real ally.”

“I’m sorry.” Claude leaned forward to set his mug down, then shifted over and pulled Harley against him. They kissed long and slow for a few moments, heated but not really going anywhere. “I wish I could go back with you and protect you from the pain.”

Harley shrugged. “If I had the chance to live an easier life, I might take it. I like to think I wouldn’t be a fundamentally different person if I had more support when I was a kid. But I also don’t regret who I am. It’s just lonely sometimes.”

“I know what you mean,” Claude said.

Harley smiled. “I figured you did.”

Silence fell, and they basked a while, but just as Claude’s legs began to ache from the sideways position he was in, Harley lifted off him.

“Can we do presents?”

He sounded so delighted Claude couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Yes, chéri. May I go first?”

Harley nodded, jumping to his feet, and he walked over to the end table, where he’d set up a little nest of green garlanddecorated with the smaller baubles Lyric had put up all over the lobby. Nestled in there were three gifts—two for Harley, one for him.

“I thought you said your brother put gifts in your luggage,” he pointed out.

Harley scoffed. “Yeah, gift cards for a couple local shops back home that I like. They’re sweet, but they weren’t garland-worthy.”

Claude grinned helplessly as he held out his hands to receive the neatly wrapped gift. He’d seen Harley put it there the night before, and when the younger man wasn’t looking, he picked it up and examined the perfectly pressed corners.

His gifts weren’t wrapped as nicely, but one of them was a similar shape. Had they given each other the same thing?

“Okay, go,” Harley ordered.

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