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They said they weren't doing gifts this year. The only thing they would do for Christmas eve was gather for dinner and then drinks at Franklin's place. Something calm and mellow.
Michael had full intentions of not getting gifts, because he was kind of sick of the whole Christmas thing in general. Years of spoiled children and a sometimes ungrateful wife had left a bad taste in Michael's mouth. So far this year had been better than the last ones, but bitter feelings still remain. That being said, however, Michael had caved.
As Michael pulled into Franklin's driveway, the headache brewing behind his eyes reached a peak. He cut the engine, and immediately opened the glove compartment to find the bottle of Advil he kept stored there.
A blue velvet ring box stared back at him. Michael looked at it a moment, before grabbing and pocketing it. He then continued to dig through the clutter of paper and napkins.
Yes, he caved. Against his better judgement, Michael had gotten Trevor a gift. He saw it in the jewellery store and it spoke to him. He still couldn't believe what a pushover he was.
Who was to say that Trevor would even want it? He didn't exactly seem like a ring guy.
Finally Michael found the Advil bottle. When he twisted off the cap, he found that there were exactly two left. He snorted.
"Christmas freaking miracle," He muttered to himself. He threw the pills in his mouth and chased them with a shot of lukewarm bottled water.
Michael closed his eyes and settled back. He just needed a second for the painkillers to hit before he dealt with the rest of today. Not that hanging with Franklin was bad, just that Trevor could be a lot sometimes. God.
Michael tried to clear his mind of everything, to zen out before he went inside and kick-started the Christmas celebrations. However, a sudden commotion outside his car kept him from achieving tranquility.
He heard yelling through the windows. And then, faintly, he noted a scorched smell.
Michael wrinkled his nose. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.
Franklin's front door burst open. A thick wall of smoke billowed out. Franklin staggered out from the smoke; he had his shirt pulled up over his nose, and his other arm stretched out ahead to feel his way. He stumbled off the doorstep and into the driveway. Trevor also emerged from the smoke, shortly behind Franklin. He wore an obscene Christmas sweater that looked like it had been set ablaze; part of the design on the front was melted and torn, and the entire left sleeve was missing.
Against his better judgement, Michael threw open the car door and stepped out. He stared, agape, at the smoke pouring from Franklin's house.
"What the hell happened?!" Michael cried. "What did you do?"
"Homeboy started a fuckin' grease fire!" Franklin yelled back, over the blaring smoke alarm behind him.
"Jesus, T!"
Trevor curled his lips into a snarl. He threw his hands dramatically between Franklin and Michael, and the smoking house.
"What? What?! You never deep-fried a turkey before?"
"It didn't need to be deep-fried, you crackhead!" Franklin yelled. "It was—it was almost done cookin'! In the oven! Like it was supposed to be!"
Franklin choked as the wind picked up the smoke and drew it towards them. He coughed and hacked. Michael followed his lead and pulled his undershirt up over his nose.
"Who even deep-fries a Christmas turkey?" Michael asked. He cleared his throat. The smell of scorched bird and burnt kitchen appliances was unmistakable.
Trevor, refusing to be put down, crossed his arms and turned his nose up at the both of them. A stray ember still burnt the edge of his horrendous Christmas sweater.
"If it's good enough for the Colonel, it's good enough for me," Trevor announced proudly.
Both Michael and Franklin stared at him. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then, Franklin dropped his shirt from his nose and hollered, "KFC don't even fry no motherfucking turkeys. It's Kentucky Fried Chicken. Fried CHICKEN."
Trevor shot back with an equally witty response, or something deeply offensive and uncouth, but Michael had stopped listening. He tuned everything out, from Franklin and Trevor's argument, to the squealing fire alarm, and shortly the blare of the fire truck. He allowed his mind to go blank, at least for a moment, to experience a second of peace.
Then, to himself, Michael uttered, "I should've left the ring in the car."
—30—
It took the fire department thirty minutes to smother the grease fire and declare the premises safe for re-entering. Really, it would have taken fifteen minutes, but Trevor got into it with one of the firefighters after they offhandedly made a comment about how stupid it was to deep-fry a turkey indoors.
Trevor sulked on the couch. Beside him, Michael had found and broken into a bottle of expensive wine. He sipped a glass of it contently. Franklin stood by the table muttering into his phone.
"Aight. Great. Thanks." Franklin hung up the phone and tossed the menu he was holding onto the table.
"Chinese'll be here in thirty minutes." Franklin informed them. "Turkey would've been done about now, if it weren't for someone's meddlin' ass."
"I refuse to budge on my fried turkey standpoint." Trevor sneered. "Next year we'll do this gig at my place and I'll show you a good fucking goddamn turkey."
"No offence, homie, but the last place I wanna eat is anywhere you spend yo time."
The doorbell rang, cutting their conversation short.
"The delivery guys must be on the ball tonight," Michael commented.
Trevor chuckled beside him. Franklin went to answer the door, but it swung open before he could reach it.
Lamar waltzed in, arms open wide and grinning.
"Merry fuckin' Christmas, dawg. Yo' present has arrived. Bring it in here."
Franklin opened his arms, and allowed Lamar to grab him and hug him hard. Lamar slapped Franklin's back twice.
When they parted, Lamar wrinkled his nose. Suddenly, he didn't look so pleased to be there.
"...Why's it smell like burnt fuckin' garbage dicks up in here?"
"That's... Incredibly specific," Michael muttered into his wine glass.
Trevor shoved Michael's shoulder, then twisted to point at Lamar. "No, he's right! I was trying to place the smell, and you got it, homeboy. Spot on."
Upon noticing Trevor and Michael, Lamar smiled. He swaggered over to the couch.
"Aw, shit, hey T-homie, how you doin'? Good to see you again." Lamar greeted Trevor. They clasped hands and pound hugged, with Lamar leaning over the back of the couch. "And you... The other dude Franklin hangs out with. Cool."
"Merry Christmas," Michael offered. He swirled his wine and then took a sip. He held his hand out. "Michael de Santa."
"Yeah, yeah, sure. I think we met once." Lamar said. He clasped Michael's hand and shook it. "Call me Lamar Davis. LD."
"So, you got anymore gang-banging opportunities that I can jump in on?" Trevor asked, cutting into the conversation. He made vague groping hand motions as he spoke.
Lamar almost immediately dropped Michael's hand and focused on Trevor. Michael tossed his hands up when he was so quickly shoved aside, then found solstice in his wine glass again.
"Nah, homie, I'm keepin' it cool for the holidays, y'know? Day of rest and whatnot."
"The day of rest is Sunday," Franklin informed him.
Lamar waved him off. "Whatever, dude. I am here to rest, be merry, smoke some fuckin' dank, and eat more turkey. How much longer on the bird?"
Lamar craned his neck to look into the kitchen, then glanced back at Franklin.
"...What's with that sour-ass look on yo' face?" Lamar asked.
"Due to unforeseen circumstances with the turkey, we're ordering Chinese food instead," Trevor supplied helpfully.
Lamar nodded slowly. Then, aside to Franklin, he said, "So if there ain't no turkey here, why you hangin' with these old white dudes? Why ain't you with us and yo aunty?"
"There is no way Denise wants to be seein' me, much less on Christmas Eve. Besides, Christmas is about spending time with your friends, too."
"I see where yo' loyalty lies now. Listen, my mama was raggin' on me askin' why you weren't gonna be all up at our dinner table hoggin' the stuffin'. I wuz like shit, he's a grown-ass man, he can do whatever he wants, but she still went at me like it was my fault."
Franklin shrugged his shoulders. He smirked. "I can't help that your mama wants a piece of me."
"Whoa whoa hey now, don't you dare be sayin' that shit about my mama." Lamar immediately replied. He motioned to Franklin up and down. "She is way too good for yo ugly, Santa's-elf-lookin' ass."
"Keep talkin' shit, Lamar, and you know you're gettin' a lump of coal this year."
Lamar shrugged that one off, unfazed. "Look I ain't worried bro, they're gonna send yo' ass back to the North Pole once they realize their favourite motherfuckin' elf's gone missin'."
"Anyway," Franklin said, partially cutting Lamar off. "We're goin' out for a smoke. Y'all want in?"
"But it's cold out. Why can't we just smoke in here?" Lamar complained.
"This place has seen enough smoke for today," Franklin replied, deadpan. "We goin' outside."
"I'm good here," Michael said. His headache had disappeared for now, with the help of the wine.
"I don't touch the stuff," Trevor announced. He jabbed a finger into his temple. "It fucks with your head, man. There's no good that comes from marijuana."
Franklin looked at Trevor a minute before shaking his head. "Yeah aight, suit yourselves." He replied. "We'll be back in a few. Sit tight."
"Don't gotta worry about us, homie," Trevor said. He kicked his feet up to rest them on the edge of the coffee table and folded his hands across his stomach. "We'll get cozy."
Franklin nodded. He led Lamar out of the room with a tilt of his head.
As they left, Lamar whispered to Franklin, "Seriously, why you hangin' with these weird motherfuckers...?"
The door clicked behind Franklin and Lamar. Now left alone, Trevor twiddled his thumbs. He looked absently around the room, between Michael silently sipping wine like an old Betty, and the glittering white fake Christmas tree in the corner.
"This is nice. We never just hang out the two of us anymore." Trevor said, breaking the silence. He smiled pleasantly, though his expression still managed to come off as creepy.
"Guess not. We're pretty busy people."
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Trevor sniffed. He took another look around the room, then sat forward. He dropped his heavy booted feet on the floor and twisted to look at Michael. "So... Did you get me a gift?"
Michael tensed behind his wine glass. He almost sputtered on the red liquid. Somehow, he kept his composure long enough to swallow and glance at Trevor. Suddenly, the ring sitting in Michael's pocket felt incredibly heavy.
"I thought you were the one who said we were too old for that shit."
"I just wanted to see. You never know. Weird shit happens all the time. Like... Oh, what's this?"
Trevor dug into his pants pocket. He rummaged around a second, before producing a sleek red box. It was topped with a black bow, and a gift tag with the name 'Michael' written out in neat cursive writing. Trevor held it out to Michael.
"That old pervert Santa Clause must've slipped this in here. I think it's for you."
Michael blinked. He set his wine glass on the coffee table.
"Jeez, T, you didn't have to get me anything. Honestly."
"Listen I figure... We had a shit year, might as well reign it in properly. So take the fucking gift before I change my mind."
"Alright, alright..."
Hesitantly, Michael reached out to accept the gift. He turned it over in his hands to examine thoroughly. Once deciding the thing was probably safe, and not something incredibly weird or a bad prank, Michael pulled the ribbon to undo it.
"Thank you. I, uh, I appreciate this. I don't know what to say."
"Wait until you open the damn thing."
Inside the box was a name-brand watch. It didn't look tampered with, or a knock-off, as far as Michael could tell at first glance it was legit. He kind of gawked at it, surprised.
"...This is actually a nice watch." Michael said.
"Yeah, 'cause you're always late to everything. Now you've got no excuse. Halle-fuckin'-lujah. You're welcome."
"Why did you get me this?"
"I want merriment and happiness on Christmas." Trevor sneered sarcastically. "You think I need an ulterior motive to get my good friend a gift on the day of the birth of Christ?"
"Yeah, I do, actually. Considering this friend of mine is a freaking nutcase."
"Yeah you got me." Trevor shrugged. He flopped back on the couch. "I want you to get down and fucking blow me."
Michael quirked his brow at Trevor. He gave a small smile, but otherwise said nothing.
The silence quickly wore Trevor down. Even though he knew this was a tactic Michael used to rile him up, it still worked every time.
"If you're waiting for me to say sike you're gonna be waitin' a looong time, buddy." Trevor said, then laughed loudly.
Michael held his silence longer. He stared at Trevor, while he took the watch out of the box and rolled it around in his hand slowly.
Finally, Trevor grit his teeth and jabbed his finger into Michael's chest.
"Quit fuckin' looking at me, alright? Or else I'm gonna poke those pretty goddamn eyes out."
Michael cracked. He smiled, batting his eyelashes. "You think my eyes are pretty, T?"
"Are you this easy or what?"
"I'm just messing with you."
"I think you're obsessed with me. Just can't get enough of ol' Trevor."
Michael laughed a bit. As he slipped the watch onto his wrist, he thought about how he had been waiting for the perfect moment to give Trevor his gift. Michael realized now, however, that he didn't know what that moment would be. He had always been bad at planning these sorts of things. Not that he intended to make a show out of giving Trevor a ring, but…
On a whim, Michael slid his hand into his own pocket. He could feel Trevor's eyes bearing holes into his skull. Before Trevor could have the chance to make a comment about Michael fiddling around in his pocket, Michael brought out the ring box.
"Here," he said, throwing it to Trevor. "Merry Christmas to you, too."
Trevor caught the box with ease. He wasted no time popping it open. A stunning ring stared back at him. A thick silver band set with a square red gemstone.
Trevor was caught off guard for only a second. He tore his eyes away from the ring to look up at Michael.
"Oh, Mikey, this is—this is all happening so fast." He said in a falsetto. "I'll have to tell my folks. But yes, a million times yes!"
Michael's cheeks flushed. "I'm not proposing to you. Jesus. It's just a ring. Consider it... A friendship thing. Or whatever we are."
Trevor paused. He snapped the ring box shut and clutched it in his palm.
"Whatever we are? Whatever we are? Twenty years and that's the best you can give me?" He half-yelled. Michael put his hands up to keep Trevor at bay, but Trevor quickly doubled back on himself. Suddenly calm again, he opened the box and plucked the ring out to examine it. "Eh, what the hell, I'll take it. What's the carat on this thing?"
Still on edge, Michael replied, "I don't know. I thought it looked nice. Figured you'd like it."
Trevor nodded sagely. He turned the ring box over in his palm. "You figured correct, my friend. Trevor Phillips is a lot of things and apparently a materialistic whore is one of them."
"Give yourself more credit than that."
"I'm one-hundred-percent serious right now. You say the word and I'm over you like a fly on shit."
"What a tempting offer. I'm gonna pass."
"You sure you don't want a little Christmas sugar? Since we both got each other something when we said we wouldn't, I think we have some unresolved tension between us right now."
"I don't think that's what this means."
"Don't fight it, Mikey, just let it happen. Pretend we're under the mistletoe." Trevor grinned. He scooted across the couch into Michael's space. He puckered his lips and kept pushing boundaries until he was essentially on top of Michael. In retaliation, Michael shoved a hand against Trevor's cheek to push him away.
"Trevor, I'm warning you--"
"One little kiss won't kill you. From your good old whatever-we-are."
To keep himself from being shoved aside, Trevor grabbed Michael by the waist with one hand. The second his hand laid there, Michael tensed. It was like an electric shock had just run through him. All of a sudden, Michael felt weird and clammy. Part of him wanted to twist away and put distance between them, but another part of him... Honestly kind of liked it.
And in a fight, Michael already knew which part of him was going to win.
"Fuck it, you wanna play this game? Let's play," Michael finally said. He turned to face Trevor fully. "Merry Christmas, asshole."
Michael planted his hand on the back of Trevor's neck and jerked him forward. He crushed their lips together into a kiss, with an incredible amount of accuracy.
Trevor didn't falter before kissing back. Without missing a beat, Trevor grabbed Michael by the shoulders and practically clambered over him to get closer.
Was this where Michael thought his Christmas eve was going to go? No.
Did he necessarily dislike it? Absolutely not.
On a list of people he wanted to makeout with, Trevor should have been low. For all intents and purposes, the guy was pretty disgusting; but his hands were heavy and his body was hot and Michael really couldn't convince himself he didn't want this badly.
So he didn't draw away from Trevor after a moment. He also pushed in, closing the rest of the space between them. Michael knotted a hand into the back of Trevor's greasy hair, drawing a groan out of Trevor, then his other hand went down Trevor's burnt sweater. Michael's fingers touched the singed tinsel and frayed polyester edges before brushing against a patch of Trevor's exposed skin by his hip. Michael let his hand rest there, palm flat, and his thumb stroking gently.
Trevor tensed underneath Michael's touch. His teeth grazed Michael's lip. The only thing keeping him from completely climbing on top of Michael and pinning him to the couch was the fact that Michael's hands left him paralyzed. They were such small acts of affection but Trevor wanted to drink them in.
As far as kisses went, it was too much teeth and too much excitement, but after so long of denying it, it felt amazing. Neither of them wanted to pull back.
It felt like it used to, way back before shit got all complicated.
And then just like that, it came to an end.
The front door opened. Michael and Trevor separated at lightning speeds. They fell apart, each reclining on opposite ends of the couch as if nothing had happened. Michael grabbed his glass of wine again, and Trevor shoved the ring box deep into his pocket. Subtly, Michael dropped the gift box from the watch on the floor and shoved it under the couch with his foot.
Franklin and Lamar re-entered the living room. Lamar swaggered in first, rubbing his hands together excitedly. Franklin followed behind carrying two plastic bags of takeout food.
"Fuck yeah, the Chinese is here," Lamar practically sang. "This is better than any dry-ass turkey you wuz gonna cook up, Frank."
"Thanks for your support, motherfucker," Franklin replied. He came around the couch and set the bag of takeout on the coffee table. With a grunt, he dropped himself into the arm chair facing it.
"Now this is a Christmas feast," Trevor commented casually, as if nothing had just been happening. Michael nodded and sipped his wine. His lips still tingled with the feeling of Trevor's.
"Hell yeah, I'm boutta tear up this Chow Mein, dawg," Lamar said happily. He sat on the floor cross-legged, tucked in to the coffee table.
As Franklin unpacked the takeout bags and Lamar opened every styrofoam box excitedly, Trevor leaned in to Michael with a grin.
"Same time next week?" He whispered.
Michael swiftly punched Trevor in the leg. It wasn't enough to hurt. Trevor laughed at it. Neither Franklin nor Lamar noticed. Lamar was busy loading his paper plate up and calling this a Christmas miracle.
Then after a second, Michael whispered back to Trevor, "We'll talk about it."