SMP...
So! I wrote this for maderr for the September Handicap challenge. (Aaaand, I don't think I managed to include the handicap part of the challenge into this story, now that I think about it...>_>;;)
Last year Maderr wrote Something Sweet for New Years and I loved it. So, I wrote her fanfiction for it. ^_^;;
“Good Afternoon,” Clarence smiled with his customary clerk smile as Grady walked into the candy store. For anyone new to the store, Clarence would have seemed an odd choice of cashier given the odd storybook appearance of the store. His long, messy dark blond bangs were always hanging in his eyes, and the chains at his wrists, the piercings in his ears and the nature of his clothing would have looked more appropriate in a night club. Or a tattoo parlor.
He was gorgeous.
“Hi,” Grady mumbled in return before he made a beeline for the display of chocolates that were behind one of the many elaborately carved wooden shelves that held the candy displays. Unlike some of the stores that Grady had visited downtown or in the suburbs, this candy store had chosen to go with deep, rich colors for the walls and the trim instead of insipid pastels. The wooden shelves were stained a honeyed brown, and the main counter in front was a beautiful mahogany. Unlike the other stores that depended on metal and glass stands, this store had a homey, welcoming feel.
Grady loved it.
“Can I help you find anything?”
Startled, Grady jerked his head up from the display of green and white wrapped chocolates that he was staring at blindly to find Clarence beside him, leaning over slightly with a hand rested casually on the edge of the shelf. As always, he had an easy smile on his face, and his dark brown eyes were kind as they regarded Grady.
“Just looking,” he managed to squeak, knowing as he did so that his face was turning bright red. He could feel the blood rushing to it.
“Well, just let me know if you need any assistance. I’m more than happy to help,” Clarence flashed him another smile before ambling back to the main counter. Grady watched him go, biting his lip unhappily. In the last couple of months, there had been dozens of opportunities, just like this one, for him to start a conversation or say something friendly.
And just like now, he’d managed to botch each and every attempt.
Oh, he knew that there was little hope for someone like him to get together with someone like Clarence in even the most platonic of ways. But would a little talking really have hurt? Even if it was strictly customer-retailer, it would have been better than nothing.
Toying with one of the prepackaged boxes of chocolates on the shelf, Grady watched out of the corner of his eye as Clarence casually flirted with a couple of teenage girls that were buying rock candy from a big jar sitting on the mahogany counter. The girls, of course, were eating it up and flirting back with the same casual ease.
It wasn’t that Grady was jealous. More envious, maybe, of their ability to be that comfortable with themselves and with Clarence to flirt like that. It was a feat that he was sure he’d never manage. It wasn’t that Clarence was mean or anything but congenial to him when he walked in the door, it was just that he’d never be able to have that same kind of easy conversation with him that he was having with those girls.
Clerks were kind to him in stores such as this. Often times, they went out of the way to make sure he was happy with his purchases. If a monkey went into a banana shop, it was obvious that he was going to spend a great deal of money there and if treated right, would be a valuable repeat customer. Given his girth and the roundness of his cheeks, Grady imagined that dollar signs popped up behind their eyes any time he walked through the front door of establishments such as this.
But when he was in this store, that didn’t seem to matter. In here, there was Clarence with his easy going kindness. And Sherlock, who ran the place, carried some of the best candy as most of it was produced locally. Grady knew a great number of the candy suppliers for the store personally, and he could see that Sherlock did well by them.
“See, now that’s a good choice.”
Jerking for the second time in less than fifteen minutes, Grady whirled around to find Clarence leaning against one of the shelves. He was like a huge jungle cat. That worked in a candy store. Or something. Grady ran a hand nervously through his dark brown hair. “Really?” His voice cracked, and he laughed anxiously, trying to cover it up.
“Yeah, the guy who makes them uses old fashioned peppermints and dips them in different kinds of chocolate. He also has some peppermint biscotti that we sell up at the front counter and some peppermint bark that comes in a decorative tin. Personally, his stuff is some of my favorite from the selection that we sell here,” Clarence confided, sticking his hands in deep pockets.
Grady slowly counted to ten and then took a deep breath to calm down. “Oh yeah? You like peppermint?”
“I love peppermint. It’s the reason I took the job here,” Clarence winked, and Grady reminded himself not to have a heart attack. “Trust me, you can’t go wrong with those. Looking for a Christmas present for your girlfriend?”
Oh, ha ha. His girlfriend? Right. Like he’d be able to attract one of those even if for some strange reason he wanted one. Grady frowned slightly. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.” And he’d told Clarence that because…? Why not just admit right now that he was a loser of the highest degree who loved candy shop clerks from afar. “I just like chocolate. A lot.” Oh, now that was smooth. Like an elephant stampeding through a china shop. Grady wanted to disappear into the floor.
“Me too,” Clarence grinned, though, being kind enough to overlook the obvious walking joke that Grady was making of himself. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m paying Sherlock to work here since most of my paycheck goes towards candy. My sisters love it though.”
“Sisters?” Having never had any of those, or brothers either, for that matter, Grady wondered what it was like to have a whole passel of them.
“Four of them. And let me tell you, there are times during the month when it does not hurt to come home bearing gifts of chocolate,” Clarence laughed before stretching. “I better get back to the front counter, though. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
Well, a brain transplant couldn’t hurt. A reality check might not be out of order either. But Grady didn’t bother saying any of that out loud. He was sure his bright red face was doing it for him.
Grady watched Clarence ring up customer after customer for the next ten minutes before the timer on his watch went off, reminding him that he had other places he needed to be. Reluctantly, he went to the front, box of chocolate covered peppermints in his hand.
“Like I said before,” Clarence smiled, “good choice. You won’t regret it. This is some of the best stuff on the planet.”
“Thanks,” Grady said softly, taking his change and pocketing it, managing a smile this time instead of a nervous grimace.
“Take care and come again.”
Of course he would, Grady sighed as he ducked out of the store and out into the snowy outdoors. After all, someone dumb enough to buy his own product was dumb enough to come back and do it again in order to ogle the cute clerk.
~***~
“What are you doing for Christmas, Grady?” Sherlock asked casually as Grady finished packing the last box of candy to be sent to the store.
“I’ll probably do what I do every year,” he muttered absently as he shooed his black cat, Figaro, away from the tape that she was so intent on eating. It was a vague answer and he knew it, and what was more, he knew Sherlock knew it. But for whatever reason, it was easier to say that than admit that his Christmas tradition involved sitting by himself in front of his raggedy Charlie Brown-esque tree, opening the presents he’d gotten for Figaro, who almost always ended up being more interested in the paper the presents were wrapped in than the presents themselves.
“Well, I’m putting together a party on Christmas eve for all my suppliers and some friends. I’d love it if you’d come,” Sherlock smiled, taking the boxes and heading outside with them. Trailing behind him with a few of them himself, Grady grimaced.
“I don’t know.”
“If you’re worried about not having anyone there to talk to, don’t. It won’t just be little old ladies. Basil’s inviting some of his publishing friends. And Clarence, my part time help, will be there. He goes to the same university you do, if I’m not mistaken. He’s about your age.”
And completely out of Grady’s league, but he didn’t feel like pointing that out to Sherlock. “He’s the one who looks like a punk rocker, right?” He tried casually, failing miserably as Sherlock pulled up short with a snorted laugh.
“He does look a bit at odds with the store, I’ll admit. But he’s the best part timer that I’ve ever had. He’s always on time, does his work, and is good with the customers.”
“Oh,” Grady blinked. “I know.” He felt his face growing hot as Sherlock shot him a questioning look. “I, ah, was in the other day and saw him in action.” The other day. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the last two months. Same difference. Grady quickly moved then to put the boxes in his hands in the back of Sherlock’s truck to avoid Sherlock’s questioning eyes. “Actually, he recommended some of the peppermints I’d made to customers when I was there and he did a great job selling them. I wanted you to give him something for me. Just as a thank you,” he murmured.
“Oh really?” Sherlock glanced at him, obviously intrigued. Grady felt his normal scowl coming back.
“Yeah, nothing big or anything. Just something I put together the last night since my favorite show on TV was a rerun,” he shrugged it off as if it weren’t a big deal and as if he hadn’t gone through half a dozen recipes or a dozen trials before deciding on what to make. Because, of course, he was a loser with no life. Shuffling into his cozy kitchen, he pulled a small box out of his industrial size refrigerator and handed it to Sherlock.
“What is it?”
“Candy Cane Cheesecake,” Grady mumbled, self consciously. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked disappointed. Raising an eyebrow, Grady shot him a questioning look.
“I had hoped it would be something new that we could sell in the store. The customers love your peppermint line.”
“I’ve got some recipes I’m experimenting with. They’ll probably be ready by Valentine’s,” he assured, feeling better that they were back to business and that he wasn’t skirting the issue of his massive crush on an unattainable clerk.
“Good, I look forward to seeing the results. I suppose I should get these to the store though. It being the Christmas season and all, these are flying off the shelf faster than I can keep them in stock.” Sherlock turned to leave, but paused just outside the kitchen to look inside the box for Clarence just enough to take a peek at the cake. Getting a glimpse, he let out a low whistle. “He really must have been good at it to deserve this.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Grady growled, practically pushing Sherlock out the front door. “Just tell him thank you for me.”
“Come to the party, Grady.” Sherlock put a hand against the door before Grady could slam it in his face. “We’d really like to see you there.”
“I wouldn’t know why,” Grady mumbled under his breath before sighing heavily. “Fine. I’ll come, okay?”
“Good,” Sherlock grinned.
~***~
He was in hell, Grady decided as he tried to become one with the wallpaper. It wasn’t that this was unfamiliar territory. He’d been in the store numerous times, and at some point or another, he’d met practically everyone in the room with the exception of some of Basil’s publishing friends.
It was just that Grady hated parties. Someone had broken out the alcohol an hour ago, and little old ladies who were usually sweet and genteel were now raunchy and dirty mouthed. Mrs. Greeley, who had blue hair and some of the best dark chocolates in this universe, had pinched his ass and announced that he was hot to trot and that she’d do him in a heartbeat. She’d then gone on to help Mrs. Abernathy grope Clarence’s chest and slap Basil’s ass with a spatula.
As far as Grady was concerned, sex and little old ladies were two things that should never be thought of in the same sentence let alone witnessed in real life. Everyone but him had taken it in stride, so he supposed this sort of thing happened every year, particularly since Sherlock had instructed him to keep the hooch away from Mrs. Greeley when she attempted to sing a song about thong underwear. What was worse, she’s practically had the entire room singing along with her.
Candy makers were a kinky bunch, he decided with a sigh.
Of course, he was nursing his own liquor, so he supposed he couldn’t say much without being hypocritical. Not that it mattered; he’d said his quota of words for the night. He’d gone around and mingled for ten minutes, awkwardly butting into conversations he wasn’t a part of and sticking his foot in his mouth where his opinion hadn’t been warranted. It was for the best if he just kept silent now and studied the happy, tipsy people before him.
“So,” the word was drawn out and practically in Grady’s ear, making him jump about half a foot in surprise. Glancing up and to the side, he found himself face to face with Clarence’s grinning eyes. “Sherlock says that you supply the store with our peppermint line.”
“Yeah,” Grady said stupidly as he stared.
“Well, like I told you, they’re my favorite,” Clarence shook his blond head, chagrinned. “I’ve always had a weakness for peppermint.” He leaned back up against the same wall that Grady was holding up.
He looked wonderful. Grady almost blurted out the thought. He had a Santa hat crammed down on his head, but his blond bangs were still flopping in his face, and Grady could make out the row of red and green stud earrings that went up the shell of one of Clarence’s ears. “Peppermint,” he managed when Clarence favored him with a smile. Lovely. He had the mental capacity of a brain damaged parrot. That was sure to impress Clarence. “I, uh, I love peppermint, too. My mom showed me how to make it and we used to spend each Christmas making it for my dad.”
“Are you spending Christmas with them this year?”
Ooh, he’d walked right into that question. Grady winced. “Ah, my mom passed away from cancer when I was still in elementary school, and my dad had a heart attack a couple years back. It’s pretty much just me and Figaro, my cat.” And there, in Clarence’s eyes, was pity. Just the thing that Grady had been hopping to avoid. “But it’s cool. I like it this way. Nice and simple. I don’t have to worry about family drama or the stress of trying to make everything perfect.”
It was just lonely as hell. And pathetic.
The awkward silence stretched out between them and Grady wanted to either shoot himself for having said anything in the first place or rewind time so that he could take the whole conversation back. Since the likelihood of either happening wasn’t terribly great, he simply stood next to Clarence, enjoying that he was close enough to smell the gingerbread cologne Clarence seemed to be wearing, but fidgeting like mad given his nerves.
“Thanks for the cake, by the way,” Clarence finally said softly, breaking the silence.
“You’re welcome,” Grady returned automatically, giving Clarence a shy smile.
“Psst, Clarence! ‘Rence!”
Blinking, they both turned to look at a slightly tipsy Sherlock. It was an amusing sight in itself, but even more so since Basil was stoically helping him stay upright. Both had rosy cheeks though, so Grady assumed that they hadn’t exactly been frugal with the Schnapps either.
“You two having fun?” Clarence laughed, nudging Grady just long enough to share an amused eye roll before turning his attention back to the older couple.
“Sherlock really thought he needed to come over and tell you something,” Basil informed them with a quietly amused voice as Sherlock frowned up at him slightly.
“It’s important,” Sherlock insisted, beckoning Clarence closer. Obliging, Clarence leaned in. “The mistletoe is over there.”
Grady looked, and sure enough, there was mistletoe hanging from the far doorway. Of course, there were also quite a few of the young female interns that were a part of the company that Basil wrote for, chatting happily underneath it unawares.
“Your point?” Clarence asked amused.
“My point?” Sherlock looked charmingly confused. “My point is you wanted it here. Go use it! It took me an hour to figure out how to hang that up without ruining the doorframe.” At Sherlock’s less than quiet shout, Clarence blushed for the first time in Grady’s recollection. It was sweet, seeing his cheeks turn red as he nervously ran a hand through his hair, accidentally bumping the cap off his head.
But looking over at the mistletoe again and the girls underneath it, Grady felt the tiny hope he hadn’t even realized he’d had in his chest die a gruesome death. What was he doing here? Since when was he so masochistic?
Well, now was as good a time as any to make his escape. He’d come, he’d attempted to be social, and now he was going to go back home and crawl back underneath the rock where he belonged.
“Hey Sherlock, I think I’m going to go. It was a great party. Thanks for inviting me.” He grabbed Sherlock’s hand and shook it before the man had a chance to protest.
“Grady wait,” Clarence’s voice almost succeeded in stopping him completely. “The night’s still young. You barely just got here.”
“I’ve got things that I have to do,” he mumbled, knowing that it wasn’t true and that they knew it wasn’t true. Still, he scowled, he wasn’t meant for these kinds of situations and the appeal of self inflicted humiliation was wearing off. “Have a good night and a Merry Christmas!”
And with that, he fled. Tail between his legs like the coward he was.
~***~
There were two things that woke Grady up on Christmas day. One was Figaro’s harsh tongue on his nose. It was enough to make his eyes water and he half suspected that she knew that and did it on purpose and punishment for daring to sleep when she was awake and hungry.
The other thing that woke him up was a strange thumping noise coming from the entry way of his small house. It sounded a bit like a woodpecker, but it was late in the year to be hearing that kind of thing and it sounded a great deal closer than any self respecting woodpecker might be to his house. Rubbing the sleepers out of his eyes, he decided to ignore it. Going into the bathroom, he changed from his pjs into a pair of sweats and brushed his teeth. By then Figaro was yowling her displeasure at being made to wait for her food.
Sleepily, he opened a can of tuna for her as a Christmas present and then padded towards the door, ready to inspect what might have been causing such a ruckus this early in the morning.
Opening the front door, he almost walked straight into a ladder. Blinking, he had to rub his eyes to ensure that he wasn’t hallucinating the whole thing.
“Grady!”
“Huh?” Maybe it wasn’t the most intelligent of responses, but then again, Clarence had a way of totally bungling up the pathways his brain synapses took. Standing half on the ladder was Clarence decked out in the same clothing he’d been wearing the night before. Grady watched, growing even more befuddled as Clarence spat out a couple of nails that were in his mouth into his palm and pocketed them. The hammer in his other hand went into a loop in his baggy carpenter jeans before he folded up the ladder and placed it against the house beside the front door.
“C’mere, Grady.” Clarence curled a finger and motioned Grady forward. Cautiously taking a couple of steps, Grady curled his toes against the cold concrete of his front step.
“What are you doing here? It’s Christmas. Shouldn’t you be at home with your family celebrating.”
“This was more important.”
Coming to his house and banging on it was more important than spending Christmas with his family? What alternate universe exactly had Grady woken up in? “How on Earth do you figure?”
“Look, I had this all planned out. For weeks, I’ve had this all planned out, and Sherlock’s been laughing at me for every minute of it because he thinks I’m thinking through it too hard. But you left the party too early last night for me to do anything about it.”
The confusion must have shown on his face, because Clarence’s face turned bright red again as he pointed to the archway above Grady’s head? Turning, Grady looked up to see a bit of green and red nailed to it. Mistletoe. “What on earth is mistletoe doing on my do-”
He stopped mid-word as he felt Clarence’s cold fingers on his cheek. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Clarence was already there, warm lips kissing his slightly chapped ones as an arm curled around his shoulders pulling him closer and up on his toes as Clarence angled down for better access.
“Be mine?” Clarence whispered against his lips, breaking the kiss.
Grady felt his face turning red. “Wrong holiday,” he mumbled self consciously as Clarence pulled gently on his dark brown bangs.
“Fine,” Clarence chuckled softly. “All I want for Christmas this year is you. Come spend it with me and mine?”
Grady took a long moment to both pinch himself, hard, and look up at Clarence to assure himself that the offer was sincere and for real. “Only if you let me change first,” he said, his words barely audible. But given his huge toothy smile, Clarence had heard every word.
“I dunno, those sweatpants do nice things for your butt.”
Grady scowled at him half heartedly, stomping back into the house. “Leave my butt out of this.”
“Can’t. I think Mrs. Greeley has designs on it. I’m your last line of defense,” Clarence laughed, closing the door behind him as he scooped Figaro up off the floor. “If you’re smart, you’d do well to have me around.”
Grady fidgeted as Clarence nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I suppose I best keep you then,” he mumbled self consciously, grinning shyly up at Clarence. Reaching over, Clarence snagged his shirt, pulling him closer for a deep kiss.
This, Grady decided, had to be the best Christmas he’d ever had.
Last year Maderr wrote Something Sweet for New Years and I loved it. So, I wrote her fanfiction for it. ^_^;;
“Good Afternoon,” Clarence smiled with his customary clerk smile as Grady walked into the candy store. For anyone new to the store, Clarence would have seemed an odd choice of cashier given the odd storybook appearance of the store. His long, messy dark blond bangs were always hanging in his eyes, and the chains at his wrists, the piercings in his ears and the nature of his clothing would have looked more appropriate in a night club. Or a tattoo parlor.
He was gorgeous.
“Hi,” Grady mumbled in return before he made a beeline for the display of chocolates that were behind one of the many elaborately carved wooden shelves that held the candy displays. Unlike some of the stores that Grady had visited downtown or in the suburbs, this candy store had chosen to go with deep, rich colors for the walls and the trim instead of insipid pastels. The wooden shelves were stained a honeyed brown, and the main counter in front was a beautiful mahogany. Unlike the other stores that depended on metal and glass stands, this store had a homey, welcoming feel.
Grady loved it.
“Can I help you find anything?”
Startled, Grady jerked his head up from the display of green and white wrapped chocolates that he was staring at blindly to find Clarence beside him, leaning over slightly with a hand rested casually on the edge of the shelf. As always, he had an easy smile on his face, and his dark brown eyes were kind as they regarded Grady.
“Just looking,” he managed to squeak, knowing as he did so that his face was turning bright red. He could feel the blood rushing to it.
“Well, just let me know if you need any assistance. I’m more than happy to help,” Clarence flashed him another smile before ambling back to the main counter. Grady watched him go, biting his lip unhappily. In the last couple of months, there had been dozens of opportunities, just like this one, for him to start a conversation or say something friendly.
And just like now, he’d managed to botch each and every attempt.
Oh, he knew that there was little hope for someone like him to get together with someone like Clarence in even the most platonic of ways. But would a little talking really have hurt? Even if it was strictly customer-retailer, it would have been better than nothing.
Toying with one of the prepackaged boxes of chocolates on the shelf, Grady watched out of the corner of his eye as Clarence casually flirted with a couple of teenage girls that were buying rock candy from a big jar sitting on the mahogany counter. The girls, of course, were eating it up and flirting back with the same casual ease.
It wasn’t that Grady was jealous. More envious, maybe, of their ability to be that comfortable with themselves and with Clarence to flirt like that. It was a feat that he was sure he’d never manage. It wasn’t that Clarence was mean or anything but congenial to him when he walked in the door, it was just that he’d never be able to have that same kind of easy conversation with him that he was having with those girls.
Clerks were kind to him in stores such as this. Often times, they went out of the way to make sure he was happy with his purchases. If a monkey went into a banana shop, it was obvious that he was going to spend a great deal of money there and if treated right, would be a valuable repeat customer. Given his girth and the roundness of his cheeks, Grady imagined that dollar signs popped up behind their eyes any time he walked through the front door of establishments such as this.
But when he was in this store, that didn’t seem to matter. In here, there was Clarence with his easy going kindness. And Sherlock, who ran the place, carried some of the best candy as most of it was produced locally. Grady knew a great number of the candy suppliers for the store personally, and he could see that Sherlock did well by them.
“See, now that’s a good choice.”
Jerking for the second time in less than fifteen minutes, Grady whirled around to find Clarence leaning against one of the shelves. He was like a huge jungle cat. That worked in a candy store. Or something. Grady ran a hand nervously through his dark brown hair. “Really?” His voice cracked, and he laughed anxiously, trying to cover it up.
“Yeah, the guy who makes them uses old fashioned peppermints and dips them in different kinds of chocolate. He also has some peppermint biscotti that we sell up at the front counter and some peppermint bark that comes in a decorative tin. Personally, his stuff is some of my favorite from the selection that we sell here,” Clarence confided, sticking his hands in deep pockets.
Grady slowly counted to ten and then took a deep breath to calm down. “Oh yeah? You like peppermint?”
“I love peppermint. It’s the reason I took the job here,” Clarence winked, and Grady reminded himself not to have a heart attack. “Trust me, you can’t go wrong with those. Looking for a Christmas present for your girlfriend?”
Oh, ha ha. His girlfriend? Right. Like he’d be able to attract one of those even if for some strange reason he wanted one. Grady frowned slightly. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.” And he’d told Clarence that because…? Why not just admit right now that he was a loser of the highest degree who loved candy shop clerks from afar. “I just like chocolate. A lot.” Oh, now that was smooth. Like an elephant stampeding through a china shop. Grady wanted to disappear into the floor.
“Me too,” Clarence grinned, though, being kind enough to overlook the obvious walking joke that Grady was making of himself. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m paying Sherlock to work here since most of my paycheck goes towards candy. My sisters love it though.”
“Sisters?” Having never had any of those, or brothers either, for that matter, Grady wondered what it was like to have a whole passel of them.
“Four of them. And let me tell you, there are times during the month when it does not hurt to come home bearing gifts of chocolate,” Clarence laughed before stretching. “I better get back to the front counter, though. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
Well, a brain transplant couldn’t hurt. A reality check might not be out of order either. But Grady didn’t bother saying any of that out loud. He was sure his bright red face was doing it for him.
Grady watched Clarence ring up customer after customer for the next ten minutes before the timer on his watch went off, reminding him that he had other places he needed to be. Reluctantly, he went to the front, box of chocolate covered peppermints in his hand.
“Like I said before,” Clarence smiled, “good choice. You won’t regret it. This is some of the best stuff on the planet.”
“Thanks,” Grady said softly, taking his change and pocketing it, managing a smile this time instead of a nervous grimace.
“Take care and come again.”
Of course he would, Grady sighed as he ducked out of the store and out into the snowy outdoors. After all, someone dumb enough to buy his own product was dumb enough to come back and do it again in order to ogle the cute clerk.
~***~
“What are you doing for Christmas, Grady?” Sherlock asked casually as Grady finished packing the last box of candy to be sent to the store.
“I’ll probably do what I do every year,” he muttered absently as he shooed his black cat, Figaro, away from the tape that she was so intent on eating. It was a vague answer and he knew it, and what was more, he knew Sherlock knew it. But for whatever reason, it was easier to say that than admit that his Christmas tradition involved sitting by himself in front of his raggedy Charlie Brown-esque tree, opening the presents he’d gotten for Figaro, who almost always ended up being more interested in the paper the presents were wrapped in than the presents themselves.
“Well, I’m putting together a party on Christmas eve for all my suppliers and some friends. I’d love it if you’d come,” Sherlock smiled, taking the boxes and heading outside with them. Trailing behind him with a few of them himself, Grady grimaced.
“I don’t know.”
“If you’re worried about not having anyone there to talk to, don’t. It won’t just be little old ladies. Basil’s inviting some of his publishing friends. And Clarence, my part time help, will be there. He goes to the same university you do, if I’m not mistaken. He’s about your age.”
And completely out of Grady’s league, but he didn’t feel like pointing that out to Sherlock. “He’s the one who looks like a punk rocker, right?” He tried casually, failing miserably as Sherlock pulled up short with a snorted laugh.
“He does look a bit at odds with the store, I’ll admit. But he’s the best part timer that I’ve ever had. He’s always on time, does his work, and is good with the customers.”
“Oh,” Grady blinked. “I know.” He felt his face growing hot as Sherlock shot him a questioning look. “I, ah, was in the other day and saw him in action.” The other day. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the last two months. Same difference. Grady quickly moved then to put the boxes in his hands in the back of Sherlock’s truck to avoid Sherlock’s questioning eyes. “Actually, he recommended some of the peppermints I’d made to customers when I was there and he did a great job selling them. I wanted you to give him something for me. Just as a thank you,” he murmured.
“Oh really?” Sherlock glanced at him, obviously intrigued. Grady felt his normal scowl coming back.
“Yeah, nothing big or anything. Just something I put together the last night since my favorite show on TV was a rerun,” he shrugged it off as if it weren’t a big deal and as if he hadn’t gone through half a dozen recipes or a dozen trials before deciding on what to make. Because, of course, he was a loser with no life. Shuffling into his cozy kitchen, he pulled a small box out of his industrial size refrigerator and handed it to Sherlock.
“What is it?”
“Candy Cane Cheesecake,” Grady mumbled, self consciously. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked disappointed. Raising an eyebrow, Grady shot him a questioning look.
“I had hoped it would be something new that we could sell in the store. The customers love your peppermint line.”
“I’ve got some recipes I’m experimenting with. They’ll probably be ready by Valentine’s,” he assured, feeling better that they were back to business and that he wasn’t skirting the issue of his massive crush on an unattainable clerk.
“Good, I look forward to seeing the results. I suppose I should get these to the store though. It being the Christmas season and all, these are flying off the shelf faster than I can keep them in stock.” Sherlock turned to leave, but paused just outside the kitchen to look inside the box for Clarence just enough to take a peek at the cake. Getting a glimpse, he let out a low whistle. “He really must have been good at it to deserve this.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Grady growled, practically pushing Sherlock out the front door. “Just tell him thank you for me.”
“Come to the party, Grady.” Sherlock put a hand against the door before Grady could slam it in his face. “We’d really like to see you there.”
“I wouldn’t know why,” Grady mumbled under his breath before sighing heavily. “Fine. I’ll come, okay?”
“Good,” Sherlock grinned.
~***~
He was in hell, Grady decided as he tried to become one with the wallpaper. It wasn’t that this was unfamiliar territory. He’d been in the store numerous times, and at some point or another, he’d met practically everyone in the room with the exception of some of Basil’s publishing friends.
It was just that Grady hated parties. Someone had broken out the alcohol an hour ago, and little old ladies who were usually sweet and genteel were now raunchy and dirty mouthed. Mrs. Greeley, who had blue hair and some of the best dark chocolates in this universe, had pinched his ass and announced that he was hot to trot and that she’d do him in a heartbeat. She’d then gone on to help Mrs. Abernathy grope Clarence’s chest and slap Basil’s ass with a spatula.
As far as Grady was concerned, sex and little old ladies were two things that should never be thought of in the same sentence let alone witnessed in real life. Everyone but him had taken it in stride, so he supposed this sort of thing happened every year, particularly since Sherlock had instructed him to keep the hooch away from Mrs. Greeley when she attempted to sing a song about thong underwear. What was worse, she’s practically had the entire room singing along with her.
Candy makers were a kinky bunch, he decided with a sigh.
Of course, he was nursing his own liquor, so he supposed he couldn’t say much without being hypocritical. Not that it mattered; he’d said his quota of words for the night. He’d gone around and mingled for ten minutes, awkwardly butting into conversations he wasn’t a part of and sticking his foot in his mouth where his opinion hadn’t been warranted. It was for the best if he just kept silent now and studied the happy, tipsy people before him.
“So,” the word was drawn out and practically in Grady’s ear, making him jump about half a foot in surprise. Glancing up and to the side, he found himself face to face with Clarence’s grinning eyes. “Sherlock says that you supply the store with our peppermint line.”
“Yeah,” Grady said stupidly as he stared.
“Well, like I told you, they’re my favorite,” Clarence shook his blond head, chagrinned. “I’ve always had a weakness for peppermint.” He leaned back up against the same wall that Grady was holding up.
He looked wonderful. Grady almost blurted out the thought. He had a Santa hat crammed down on his head, but his blond bangs were still flopping in his face, and Grady could make out the row of red and green stud earrings that went up the shell of one of Clarence’s ears. “Peppermint,” he managed when Clarence favored him with a smile. Lovely. He had the mental capacity of a brain damaged parrot. That was sure to impress Clarence. “I, uh, I love peppermint, too. My mom showed me how to make it and we used to spend each Christmas making it for my dad.”
“Are you spending Christmas with them this year?”
Ooh, he’d walked right into that question. Grady winced. “Ah, my mom passed away from cancer when I was still in elementary school, and my dad had a heart attack a couple years back. It’s pretty much just me and Figaro, my cat.” And there, in Clarence’s eyes, was pity. Just the thing that Grady had been hopping to avoid. “But it’s cool. I like it this way. Nice and simple. I don’t have to worry about family drama or the stress of trying to make everything perfect.”
It was just lonely as hell. And pathetic.
The awkward silence stretched out between them and Grady wanted to either shoot himself for having said anything in the first place or rewind time so that he could take the whole conversation back. Since the likelihood of either happening wasn’t terribly great, he simply stood next to Clarence, enjoying that he was close enough to smell the gingerbread cologne Clarence seemed to be wearing, but fidgeting like mad given his nerves.
“Thanks for the cake, by the way,” Clarence finally said softly, breaking the silence.
“You’re welcome,” Grady returned automatically, giving Clarence a shy smile.
“Psst, Clarence! ‘Rence!”
Blinking, they both turned to look at a slightly tipsy Sherlock. It was an amusing sight in itself, but even more so since Basil was stoically helping him stay upright. Both had rosy cheeks though, so Grady assumed that they hadn’t exactly been frugal with the Schnapps either.
“You two having fun?” Clarence laughed, nudging Grady just long enough to share an amused eye roll before turning his attention back to the older couple.
“Sherlock really thought he needed to come over and tell you something,” Basil informed them with a quietly amused voice as Sherlock frowned up at him slightly.
“It’s important,” Sherlock insisted, beckoning Clarence closer. Obliging, Clarence leaned in. “The mistletoe is over there.”
Grady looked, and sure enough, there was mistletoe hanging from the far doorway. Of course, there were also quite a few of the young female interns that were a part of the company that Basil wrote for, chatting happily underneath it unawares.
“Your point?” Clarence asked amused.
“My point?” Sherlock looked charmingly confused. “My point is you wanted it here. Go use it! It took me an hour to figure out how to hang that up without ruining the doorframe.” At Sherlock’s less than quiet shout, Clarence blushed for the first time in Grady’s recollection. It was sweet, seeing his cheeks turn red as he nervously ran a hand through his hair, accidentally bumping the cap off his head.
But looking over at the mistletoe again and the girls underneath it, Grady felt the tiny hope he hadn’t even realized he’d had in his chest die a gruesome death. What was he doing here? Since when was he so masochistic?
Well, now was as good a time as any to make his escape. He’d come, he’d attempted to be social, and now he was going to go back home and crawl back underneath the rock where he belonged.
“Hey Sherlock, I think I’m going to go. It was a great party. Thanks for inviting me.” He grabbed Sherlock’s hand and shook it before the man had a chance to protest.
“Grady wait,” Clarence’s voice almost succeeded in stopping him completely. “The night’s still young. You barely just got here.”
“I’ve got things that I have to do,” he mumbled, knowing that it wasn’t true and that they knew it wasn’t true. Still, he scowled, he wasn’t meant for these kinds of situations and the appeal of self inflicted humiliation was wearing off. “Have a good night and a Merry Christmas!”
And with that, he fled. Tail between his legs like the coward he was.
~***~
There were two things that woke Grady up on Christmas day. One was Figaro’s harsh tongue on his nose. It was enough to make his eyes water and he half suspected that she knew that and did it on purpose and punishment for daring to sleep when she was awake and hungry.
The other thing that woke him up was a strange thumping noise coming from the entry way of his small house. It sounded a bit like a woodpecker, but it was late in the year to be hearing that kind of thing and it sounded a great deal closer than any self respecting woodpecker might be to his house. Rubbing the sleepers out of his eyes, he decided to ignore it. Going into the bathroom, he changed from his pjs into a pair of sweats and brushed his teeth. By then Figaro was yowling her displeasure at being made to wait for her food.
Sleepily, he opened a can of tuna for her as a Christmas present and then padded towards the door, ready to inspect what might have been causing such a ruckus this early in the morning.
Opening the front door, he almost walked straight into a ladder. Blinking, he had to rub his eyes to ensure that he wasn’t hallucinating the whole thing.
“Grady!”
“Huh?” Maybe it wasn’t the most intelligent of responses, but then again, Clarence had a way of totally bungling up the pathways his brain synapses took. Standing half on the ladder was Clarence decked out in the same clothing he’d been wearing the night before. Grady watched, growing even more befuddled as Clarence spat out a couple of nails that were in his mouth into his palm and pocketed them. The hammer in his other hand went into a loop in his baggy carpenter jeans before he folded up the ladder and placed it against the house beside the front door.
“C’mere, Grady.” Clarence curled a finger and motioned Grady forward. Cautiously taking a couple of steps, Grady curled his toes against the cold concrete of his front step.
“What are you doing here? It’s Christmas. Shouldn’t you be at home with your family celebrating.”
“This was more important.”
Coming to his house and banging on it was more important than spending Christmas with his family? What alternate universe exactly had Grady woken up in? “How on Earth do you figure?”
“Look, I had this all planned out. For weeks, I’ve had this all planned out, and Sherlock’s been laughing at me for every minute of it because he thinks I’m thinking through it too hard. But you left the party too early last night for me to do anything about it.”
The confusion must have shown on his face, because Clarence’s face turned bright red again as he pointed to the archway above Grady’s head? Turning, Grady looked up to see a bit of green and red nailed to it. Mistletoe. “What on earth is mistletoe doing on my do-”
He stopped mid-word as he felt Clarence’s cold fingers on his cheek. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Clarence was already there, warm lips kissing his slightly chapped ones as an arm curled around his shoulders pulling him closer and up on his toes as Clarence angled down for better access.
“Be mine?” Clarence whispered against his lips, breaking the kiss.
Grady felt his face turning red. “Wrong holiday,” he mumbled self consciously as Clarence pulled gently on his dark brown bangs.
“Fine,” Clarence chuckled softly. “All I want for Christmas this year is you. Come spend it with me and mine?”
Grady took a long moment to both pinch himself, hard, and look up at Clarence to assure himself that the offer was sincere and for real. “Only if you let me change first,” he said, his words barely audible. But given his huge toothy smile, Clarence had heard every word.
“I dunno, those sweatpants do nice things for your butt.”
Grady scowled at him half heartedly, stomping back into the house. “Leave my butt out of this.”
“Can’t. I think Mrs. Greeley has designs on it. I’m your last line of defense,” Clarence laughed, closing the door behind him as he scooped Figaro up off the floor. “If you’re smart, you’d do well to have me around.”
Grady fidgeted as Clarence nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I suppose I best keep you then,” he mumbled self consciously, grinning shyly up at Clarence. Reaching over, Clarence snagged his shirt, pulling him closer for a deep kiss.
This, Grady decided, had to be the best Christmas he’d ever had.