Page 19 of Sheep Calm and Merry On
“Gable would probably cover for us,” Noah said after another few seconds. “The problem is, uh. I missed his wedding, man, so I kinda do not want to push my luck.”
Devon sighed miserably and gestured to himself. “Former addict. Missed too many Christmases already.”
Noah’s stomach sank. “We’re gonna have to suck it up and deal.”
Another resigned nod. “Yup.”
“Okay.” Noah paused to chug half his bottle of water and then picked up his fork again. He was going to need the energy. “First, sustenance. Then you can give me a scalp massage. And then if the migraine stays away, we go upstairs and face the music.”
Devon wiped a drip of gravy from the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Coach.”
IN THE end, the whole meet-the-parents thing was anticlimactic. Devon and Noah finished their dinners, and then Devon went to the powder room and washed his hands so he could spend ten minutes giving a “scalp massage,” which, as far as he could tell, was an excuse to run his fingers through Noah’s hair until it was even more Muppetlike than usual.
He didn’t know if it was his excuse or Noah’s. It probably didn’t matter.
Then Noah sighed contentedly, opened his eyes, and said, “All right. Let’s do it.”
Upstairs the house had divided into thirds—the kids and select adults were at the tree with the presents; Amber, Devon’s parents, and Bronwyn were playing canasta in the dining room; Noah’s parents were in the kitchen with Gable, doing cleanup.
“Kitchen first,” Noah decided. “We can distract them with manual labor.”
But when they brought their plates in to add them to the pile going into the dishwasher—and, in Devon’s case, to nudge Noah’s mom away from the sink so he could take over washing pots and pans—a loud cheer went up, startling Devon so much he almost dropped his plate on the floor.
He recovered just in time. “Jesus Christ. I didn’t realize the kitchen crew was so hard up for assistance.”
“Not assistance,” Gable told him. “Entertainment.”
And then he looked up, pointedly, to the doorframe to the basement, under which Noah was still standing and from which hung a cheerful stem of plastic mistletoe.
Ah.
Devon cleared his throat, his ears suddenly hot. “Really, guys? And the entertainment you came up with was ‘let’s watch our relatives make out’? Have you not heard of Netflix? Spotify? Go Fish?”
Halfway across the kitchen, Noah glanced up too, clocked the mistletoe, and quirked a smile. “Shut up and kiss me, Hughes.”
Fuck it. At least Devon already knew Noah’s parents. “Everyone who doesn’t want to see this, look away,” Devon warned, and just saw Gable clapping a hand over his own eyes and his mother’s before he crossed the space between him and Noah and laid one on him.
It was supposed to be just a little showy—one hand on Noah’s waist, the other on his face, a dramatic twirl. But then Noah curled his fingers into the hair at Devon’s nape, which felt good, and his lips parted under Devon’s, which felt better, and then one thing led to another and he had Noah dipped in the doorway while Noah tried and failed not to giggle into his mouth.
Finally Devon had to pull them back upright or risk dumping them both onto the kitchen floor, but he finished by picking Noah up by the waist and twirling him around to applause and catcalls.
“You’re all animals,” he accused, noting that the card players had joined the perverts in the kitchen. Bronwyn still had two fingers in her mouth, whistling.
“Speaking of animals,” Noah said, “don’t you have to go look after the sheep?”
Oh. Oh. “You know what,” Devon said, “I think I left the paddock gate open. I’d better go check.”
“I’ll help!” Noah offered, and then grinned bashfully while Gable foisted off a Tupperware full of leftovers on them as they were toeing into their boots.
They were still pink-cheeked and grinning like kids who’d gotten away with something when they hopped into the truck.
“Well,” Noah said, “that’s one way to rip off the Band-Aid.”
Devon put the truck in gear and started backing out. “I don’t even feel bad. That’s, like, the definition of fuck around and find out.”
“We can make it up to them on New Year’s.”
Much as Devon would’ve preferred to head straight to the bedroom, he really did need to check on the sheep. He topped up their hay and double-checked the heated water troughs while Noah followed Nelson on his rounds, and then joined Devon in the barn for the lullaby.
