Work Text:
DECEMBER 17 – 2:54 P.M.
Mr. Boss had ominously beckoned Pim and Charlie over to a corner of the Philadelphia metropolitan area sewer system — it was a long story — where he warded off the shadows with a lavender-scented match. He started to speak, then coughed up what appeared to be a tuft of tabby cat fur.
“What a lunch! Ahem. Hey, guys! I just wanted to let you know that I was eavesdropping on some of your conversations recently, and you both mentioned you were free for the holidays, which is amazing because I have a very important job that needs to be done by Christmas Day. Are you up for it?”
Pim shot a wary glance at Charlie. “Um… That’s kind of really weird that you were listening in on us, but yeah, um, I guess I would be free.”
“Um,” Charlie agreed. “Do we get holiday pay for that?”
“Oh, Charlie,” Mr. Boss chuckled, “you’re such a bargainer! What the hell, sure, I’ve been feeling jolly. You can put triple and a half on your timecards.”
Pim’s eyes dilated. A grin tugged at the corner of Charlie’s mouth.
“Quadruple and a half?”
“Don’t push it.”
“Just quadruple?”
“Fine!”
Mr. Boss then adopted a startling grimace and a deep, raspy voice.
“But don’t fuck this up. I can’t explain now, but lives are on the line.”
“Whoa. That sounds really serious,” Pim said.
“It is!” Mr. Boss cried, reverting to his cheerful demeanor. “But you guys will do great. I believe in you one hundred percent.”
-
DECEMBER 23 – 3:07 P.M.
They were scheduled on a flight to the Arctic, in a small, rinky-dink plane with rusty wings and kitschily upholstered seats. Pim had wanted to arrive four hours before boarding, but knew Charlie would interpret that as “arrive as late as possible,” so he gave him the wrong departure time. Charlie discovered this only when he met Pim in the TSA line, and he grumbled about it until Pim shut him up by buying him an embarrassingly sugary (and horridly overpriced) iced coffee.
While every other gate overflowed with passengers, from tired-eyed families to brusque businessmen in three-piece suits, theirs was nearly empty. Pim and Charlie had no trouble finding a spot to sit; they did have trouble, however, finding a functioning outlet to charge their phones before boarding.
“Charlie,” Pim said, once they’d settled down, “Mr. Boss got us the tickets, and when he was choosing the seats, he put your name down for the window seat. Can I please please please have the window seat instead? Please please please please please?”
“Uh, sure,” Charlie said. “I like being closer to the bathroom, anyway.”
“Yay!”
“Hey, do we actually know where we’re going after we land?”
“Mr. Boss wrote down directions to what I… think is a hotel? But I’m not really sure. He also gave me some cash, but I can’t figure out how much it is, or anything it says, really — here, can you read any of this?”
Pim pulled out a wad of paper bills with shimmery scarlet designs. Charlie inspected the dark, calligraphic text, which almost looked handwritten. He shook his head.
“No clue. You said we don’t even know how much this is? I gotta be honest, Mr. Boss’s plan was already kinda giving me the heebie-jeebies, dude, and this is even weirder. Hey, when d’you think they’ll pull out the snacks?”
As if on cue, a flight attendant rolled up to their row with a creaky metal cart. He smacked on peppermint bubblegum as he handed out miniature menus to the two of them: trail mix, stroopwafels, salted peanuts, no Pepsi, no Coke, no tea, no coffee, and no juice, but they did have a few jugs of chocolate almond milk, and something simply called “Drink,” which looked like a soda can but had no label, no nutrition facts, and no discernable flavor listed.
Pim asked for stroopwafels. Charlie, feeling adventurous, decided to try Drink.
Once the flight attendant tossed them their selections and moved onto the next row, Charlie nudged Pim.
“Okay, Pim, um, I might’ve taken a few gummies before I left my place,” he whispered.
“Charlie!”
“And they’re kind of kicking in right now, and, um, I’m just thinking that that might have been the wrong idea, because we’re at a really high altitude now, and I’m now worried that it’s going to, like, impact my high, heh, high, get it, high altitude, but anyway, um, can you just tell me that my head’s not going to explode?”
“Your head’s not going to explode.”
“Okay. Good. Good.”
“You didn’t bring any on the plane, did you?”
“Maybe.”
Pim glared at him. “They kick people off flights for that, you know.”
“What? No they don’t.”
“They totally do.”
“Really? Where’d you see that? Fake news dot com?”
“Doesn’t matter! Just — don’t talk about it so loudly.”
Charlie scratched his neck. “Alright. Alright. Um, hey, d’you wanna try this drink?”
“Not really.”
“Okay. Suit yourself.”
Charlie took a small sip and immediately tried to stifle a gag.
“You should, you should really try this, dude. Okay, there’s maybe kinda a weird aftertaste, but, like, when else in your life are you gonna be able to get this?”
“I think I’m good.”
Charlie tried it again and coughed. “Yeah. That’s… that’s probably the right choice. Uh, how long is our flight, anyway?”
“It’s about six hours. I’m going to try to sleep for most of it. Is it okay if I turn the light off now?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
Pim tried to swipe at the light switch above their heads, but his arms were too short. Charlie reached up and switched them off for him. Pim sent him a small smile in gratitude, then whipped out one of their complimentary blankets and snuggled into his seat.
Charlie tested Drink a few more times. Each taste was worse than the last. It was definitely a soda, in the sense that it was carbonated and sweet, but the sweetness was definitely the kind cooked up in a lab by unscrupulous scientists. There was a faint note of citrus, maybe lemon or lime, and it was oddly salty, as if someone was trying to replicate the rim of a margarita glass but had never actually had a margarita.
A questionable rumble came from his stomach. That couldn’t be good. He peeked around his chair to find a bathroom, but couldn’t see any signs or lights denoting any.
“Is there something you need, sir?”
Charlie, startled, looked up to see the same flight attendant from earlier. “Uh, yeah, where’s the bathroom?”
The flight attendant paused, then shrieked with laughter. Finally, after trailing off with a few hearty guffaws, he exclaimed, “That’s a good one! Oh, man! No, silly, there’s no bathrooms on this plane.”
“Oh. Um. Damn.”
“Just sit tight! We’ll be landing before you know it.”
“Alright. Thanks, I guess.”
Charlie sighed as the flight attendant bounced away. Just then, he felt something prodding his side, and turned to see Pim’s sleeping head resting on his elbow.
Pim looked… cute, in a way. Snuggled up in that blanket, eyes closed and peaceful, gently snoring, and yeah, his little nerve ending did actually freak Charlie out sometimes, but it was part of Pim, and didn’t seem to bother him, so it was okay.
He smiled.
Whenever Charlie took a flight as a kid, he would look out the window, and the cloud-covered sky always looked like the setting of a mystical kingdom, where angels could float in and out, and cotton candy could grow from the tree-like tendrils of fog, and everyone could relax under the golden glow of the sun, even all the birds and aliens.
He peered out the window now: it didn’t really look like that anymore, but if he squinted hard enough, at the right time, under the right light, he could sort of make out the faint silhouette of a hand reaching out of the mist, and if Charlie then raised his hand to give a timid wave in return, well, nobody was awake to see it.
Pim sniffled. He curled up even more until he resembled the shape of overcooked shrimp. Charlie’s edibles had fully hit by now, but he was still able to figure out that the plane felt much colder than it had when they boarded. He took out his own complimentary blanket, careful not to jostle the still-sleeping head on his arm, and, surrendering to a strange spark of generosity that had sparked, he laid it over both his lap and Pim’s.
Unfortunately, the plane being so small meant there weren’t any screens, and there weren’t any outlets Charlie could use to charge his phone, so he resigned himself to follow Pim’s example and take a nap as well. Fortunately, there also weren’t any crying, seat-kicking babies behind him, nor were there any apneic octogenarians reclining too far into his personal space, so he was able to drift off without interruption.
The ease with which Charlie fell asleep had nothing to do with the weight of Pim’s head on his hoodie sleeve. And he didn’t have any weird dreams or anything, either. At all.
-
DECEMBER 23 – 9:16 P.M.
Charlie awoke to blinding white lights and the murmur of passengers retrieving their luggage from the overhead bins. Pim was already up and had neatly folded his blanket on his lap. Charlie’s blanket was also on his own lap. He didn’t feel anything particular about this.
“It looks pretty dark out there, Charlie. We should try to find a bus, or a shuttle, or something — maybe there’s a cab line?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool, Pim, but, uh, I really need to go to the bathroom, like, right now.”
“Oh. Yeah, we can find one.”
There was a short pause. For a second, Charlie thought that Pim might bring up the sleeping-on-Charlie’s-arm thing, but then Pim stood up and moved to get his bags, and Charlie forgot the whole thing ever happened.
They waited a painfully long time for the other passengers to file out. Then they waited an even more painfully long time for free stalls in the bathroom, because Pim also had to go but didn’t like urinals much, and because there was a rather skeevy-looking guy leering at everyone from under the sinks. When Charlie finally got a stall, he artfully positioned his bags as a barricade under the stall door.
When they got to the area for ground transport, which was less of an area and more of a small cardboard vestibule clearly added recently and sloppily painted to match the rest of the airport, they discovered a handwritten sign taped to the door. It informed commuters that all scheduled bus rides were canceled due to an unexpected blizzard.
“Oh, no! Looks like we’ll have to get a taxi, then,” Pim said, disappointment marring his features.
Hearing this, a stranger — who, judging by the similarly disappointed look on her face, had also missed the bus — approached them.
“Oh, we don’t have any cabs around these parts,” she said, with an unidentifiable accent, sort of a brogue, saturating her words. “You know what, though, I live 20 minutes away from here and usually keep my car in the big garage. If you want, I can get you wherever you need to go!”
“Wow, thanks a lot, ma’am! Charlie, let’s do it!”
Charlie’s eyebrows narrowed. “Uh, I don’t know, Pim,” he whispered. “We have no idea who this lady is.”
“How bad could it be? She’s probably just being nice. Besides, it’s almost Christmas! The most wonderful time of the year! Everyone wants to feel, you know, neighborly.”
“Uh… well, to be honest, I don’t have a better idea, so, you know, okay.”
“Great! Okay, miss, we’re all set!”
She beamed. “Alright, I hope you don’t have a lot of luggage. I use my car as storage for my aquarium collection.”
“Oh. Cool. Yeah, we only have, like, two bags. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
It turned out to be a slight problem. A very large aquarium was strapped into the passenger seat, and two more filled up the back, so there was only enough room for one seat.
“You know, Pim, just for, like, convenience, and stuff, so you don’t have to have to sit in the trunk or anything, um, you could, like, sit on my lap. If you want. Um,” Charlie said. He winced. That sounded much smoother in his head.
“Okay! If that’s alright with you, um, ma’am! Don’t want to be violating any automobile laws in a foreign country, haha!”
The woman smiled and revved the engine. “No worries. Oh my goodness — I haven’t even introduced myself! Jeez, offering a ride and not even getting to know you. I’m Diane. What are your names? What do you do? I hardly interact with strangers these days! Gosh, tell me everything.”
Charlie was a bit busy figuring out if a seat belt could fit over the two of them. It couldn’t.
“I’m Pim! And that’s Charlie. Oh, here’s the address we want to get too,” Pim said, pulling out the crumpled note from Mr. Boss. “I hope it’s not too out of the way.”
“Pim. What a cute name. Hm, let me see.” Diane studied the note. “Hey, I know this place! It’s the old motel I used to work at. I know the owners. Very nice people. Very nice.”
“That’s so cool! We’re actually visiting because we’re on a work trip. Have you heard of Smiling Friends?”
“No, what’s that?”
“Pim,” Charlie whispered, “maybe we shouldn’t tell her where we work. Or who we are. I mean, she could be a crazy axe murderer. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Nobody would find our bodies.”
Pim did not acknowledge him. “It’s this company that helps people smile! It’s the best job ever.”
“How fun. You know, despite all the aquariums, I’m not a scientist or animal rescuer or anything. I’m a mortician.”
“Like, mortician as in… dead bodies?" Charlie asked. "That kind of mortician?”
“Yep! The aquariums are for my pet snakes. Oh, you should meet them. Why don’t you come over to my place for a bit of tea and I can introduce you? I’m sure you’re famished. Where are you coming from? Was the trip long?”
“Um,” Pim started, batting away Charlie’s finger poking him in increasing alarm, “you know, I appreciate it and all, but we’re actually kind of tired, you know, um, and we should probably just go straight to the motel.”
“Oh, bummer. You’re sure? It wouldn’t be a problem at all.”
Charlie cleared his throat. “No, we’re, uh, we’re good. Thanks.”
Pim peered at the rearview mirror and saw Diane frown. “Maybe we can catch you on our way back,” Pim suggested. “Or, you know, if we’re ever in the area again, we can go visit!”
“That would be wonderful! I’m so glad I met you two. What an exciting little adventure!”
Charlie had given up on his stranger danger campaign and was now focused on ignoring the fact that Pim was sitting on his lap. It was a very hard fact to ignore.
Unbeknownst to Charlie, Pim was also trying to ignore how nice it felt to be so close to him, and the way his left arm kept him secure better than any seat belt, like a weighted blanket, if a weighted blanket could be warm and yellow and friend-shaped. He did not entertain the idea of sitting in Charlie’s lap in other, less innocent situations.
“Just a few more turns and we’ll be right there! Let me know if you need help with your bags. If there’s a young man with a mustache — oh, you know, he’s probably much older now, it’s been a while — that’s probably Michael. Tell him I said hi!”
“Will do!” Pim said. Then, in a whisper, “See, Charlie? We’re almost there, and she hasn’t killed us yet.”
Charlie conceded with a short grunt.
They pulled up to the motel parking lot. Like the airport, it was very small, only one story with a smattering of windows and what appeared to be an outdoor pool adjacent to the lobby, though it was filled with snow. Strings of Christmas lights sat in a haphazard pile on the roof, as if somebody had started to decorate but quickly accepted defeat. A set of dusty garden gnomes guarded the front door.
“Well, here we are! Here’s a card with my number in case you ever need a ride again. Sleep tight, and don’t let the bed bugs bite! I mean that literally, by the way. I don’t think they ever got rid of their cockroach problem.
“Wow! Um, thanks so much, Diane!”
Pim took the card and hopped out of the car. Charlie scrambled out as well, a tad faster than Pim, and peeled a stray leech from his pants. Diane drove off and narrowly avoided a crash with a semi on the freeway.
“Shoot,” Pim said. “We should’ve asked her to tell us how much cash we have. Or what’s written on these bills.”
“I gotta be honest, Pim, that lady was creepy as hell. A mortician? In the Arctic? No way I was gonna let her touch our money.”
“Charlie, it wasn’t that bad. She just seemed a little lonely. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Okay, okay. It’s just, you know, not everyone is as nice and trusting as you, Pim.”
Pim paused before opening the door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It… means that not everyone is so nice and trusting. Obviously.” Charlie fidgeted with his sleeves.
“Well. I guess so. Hey, that guy in the lobby has a mustache! Do you think it’s Michael?”
“Could be.” Charlie waved in his direction. “Hey, mister, is your name Michael?”
The man looked up. He did, indeed, have a mustache, a wispy white thing curled up at each end. Besides the mustache and a set of equally-wispy eyebrows, he was completely bald.
“Yup. Michael here. What can I do for you?”
Pim stood as tall as he could from under the counter. “We’d like a room, please! Except — well, we’re kind of new here, and we don’t really know how much money we have. Could you let us know? Or, at least, tell us what language it’s written in?”
Michael snatched up the wad of cash. “Hm. These are the old bills. Haven’t seen ‘em in about, hm, 30 years. How’d you even find ‘em?”
Pim and Charlie exchanged apprehensive looks.
“Uh, our boss gave it to us,” Charlie supplied.
“Weird. Well, assuming you’re American — you’re American, aren’t you?”
They nodded.
“Well, ah, this is all equal to about, say, $100 USD. A room will run you half of that. Are you staying for one night, or two?”
“Er — just one night, I think.”
“One night, got it. Uh, lemme see…”
Michael turned his attention to a bulky computer with pine-scented air fresheners dangling from its top. He smacked the keyboard a few times, muttered something to himself, and returned to Pim and Charlie.
“Looks like we’ve got an executive suite open. It’s at the end of the hall. Checkout is at 10 a.m., or, for just a few bucks more, I can extend that to 11.”
“No, no, 10 is fine! We can do that.”
“Great. Fine. Alright, uh, just a few more things. No pets, no visitors, and absolutely no hookers. If you see a roach, try to hit it with the bathroom plunger. If you see more than one, call the housekeepers. We don’t have a minibar. And the pool’s closed for the season.”
Pim nodded dutifully. “Sounds good!”
“Wonderful. Well, here’s the keys, then. Let me know if there’s any issues, but not past midnight, alright?”
“Okay,” Pim said. “Wait, one more thing! We actually got a ride from a really nice lady, um, Diane, and she said she used to work here! She says hello!”
Michael blanched. “Diane?”
“Yeah, I think that was her name, at least.”
“I told her she wasn’t allowed within 50 meters of the property! Did she knock anything over? Hit any cars? God, she’s the worst. Nearly chopped my leg off before I finally got a restraining order.”
Their eyes widened. Charlie scowled at Pim.
“Dude, I told you she was crazy!”
Michael huffed. “She’s crazy, alright. You know, she’s the reason we still have this roach problem. Got so mad that I fired her that she just had to dump a million of their little eggs under the floorboards. ‘Hello,’ my ass.”
Pim studied the floor.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. You were right.”
“It’s, it’s fine, dude.” He hated when Pim got that dejected look on his face. “Let’s just throw out her card and try to avoid seeing her again.”
Exhausted, and slightly paranoid, they plodded to their room. Pim started unpacking. Charlie made a beeline for the bed.
Charlie paused. The bed?
“Hey, Pim?”
“Yeah?”
“Why is there only one bed in here?”
Pim’s head whipped up from the depths of his suitcase. “What?”
“Dude, there’s only one bed. Did he give us the wrong room or something?”
“Uh… You know, I’m not sure we ever clarified that we wanted two beds.”
“He said executive suite!” Charlie whined. “Why would an executive suite not have two beds?”
“Is there a — a couch? That one of us could use?”
They looked around. There was no couch. There wasn’t much furniture in general, just the bed, an end table with a fish-shaped lamp, and a wooden rocking chair in the corner. Not even a TV for Pim to watch trashy reality shows (which Charlie would pretend to hate but would watch nonetheless).
Charlie sighed. “Fuck. This trip keeps getting worse and worse.”
“Hey, cheer up, Charlie! It’s not so bad. The bed looks big enough. I’m sure we could both fit.”
“Hmph.”
Pim grinned. “There! Problem solved.”
Charlie wasn’t so sure. Pim napping on his arm on the plane was one thing. Sitting on his lap in the car was another thing. But sleeping in the same bed?
The bed itself was an odd size, bigger than a full but smaller than a queen, with a few wrinkled pillows smashed into the headboard. A checkered quilt draped over the sides, green and gray threads turning a warm hue against the lamplight, though the gray may have once been white, given the similarly smoke-stained curtains and chalk-like walls.
Snow continued to fall outside their window in curlicued whirls. If Charlie was less tired, he might’ve been tempted to take one of the jigsaw puzzles from the lobby and solve it with Pim, maybe share some of the snacks he brought, maybe talk in idle circles and fall asleep on the shaggy carpet floor. It was, he thought, a nice floor, sans the vague scent of mildew and the mysterious blemish half-hidden by the base of the rocking chair.
He sighed again. Pim was frowning at their bags.
“Um, Charlie? Did I accidentally put my pajamas in your suitcase, by accident? Somehow?”
“What? No, I don’t think I’ve even opened mine since I left. Can you not find yours?”
“Shoot. I must’ve missed them when I was packing. I knew there was something I forgot.”
Charlie poked through his own suitcase. He didn’t really wear pajamas, instead preferring boxers and old T-shirts, the mothbitten ones crammed in whatever drawer was free (that is, when he actually made the effort to fold his laundry). He usually brought a few extra for trips, just in case one got lost, or vomited on, or trampled over, and the like.
“Here,” he said, “you can wear one of my shirts, if you don’t have anything else.”
“Are you sure? I, I might have something, hold on.”
Charlie knew Pim was bluffing. He’d already emptied his suitcase, repacked it, and emptied it again, assembling piles for three copies of the same white button-up shirt, three pairs of the same pale indigo slacks, three pairs of ankle socks, and a bag of toiletries. No pajamas in sight.
“It’s fine, dude. Just take this one.” Charlie tossed Pim a faded orange tee he’d gotten from a Flyers game a few years ago. Pim accepted it with a timid smile.
“Thanks.”
“No worries.”
It did worry him, slightly. But he wasn’t going to admit that to Pim.
“We should probably get some sleep,” Pim said. “Mr. Boss said he’d call us in the morning to explain the plan. I’m still not… totally sure, really, what we’re doing here, but it seems top-secret.”
“Yeah. Alright, um, I’m gonna use the bathroom, now. Unless you need it first.”
“Nope! All yours.”
Charlie contemplated showering, but it was already so late, and he didn’t want to wake Pim up if he’d already gone to sleep. He brushed his teeth and splashed cold water on his face. The sink looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months. The mirror, too. A brief inspection of the shower revealed it was also dirty, with a few suspicious stains on the tiled wall, but decent enough.
He returned to the mirror. He was almost 30, and he tried not to let it get to him, he really did, despite the increasingly frequent stabs of lower back pain, and the crow’s feet that showed up when he laughed a little too much, and the thrill that came with amassing a good set of coupons. Every day was beginning to feel the same. He hated it.
Charlie changed into his own pajamas — plaid boxers and another old shirt, this one from a Grateful Dead concert his uncle attended in ‘77 — and joined Pim in bed. Pim had turned off the lamp and chosen the side closer to the window. The quilt was a tad small, but, like Pim said, they could both fit under it (somewhat) comfortably.
Except Pim was shivering. There was a radiator beneath the windowsill, but it let out little hisses and eerie moans every so often, and didn’t seem to be enough to counter the winter chill.
“Charlie?”
“Mm?”
“It’s a bit cold. In the room, I mean. D’you think there’s any other blankets? Or, like, anything else we can do?”
“I don’t know. Um, I mean, yeah, I dunno.”
Pim fiddled with the tassels on the edge of the quilt. He faced away from Charlie.
“Well,” Pim said. “Um. I might have an idea.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“To, like, conserve warmth, we could, you know, um. Not cuddle, exactly, but, well. We could — yeah, I guess cuddle is the best word for it. Um.”
Charlie blinked. This could not be happening.
“Okay,” he said, surprising himself. “Yeah, let’s, let’s do that.”
Pim moved closer to Charlie. Charlie moved closer to Pim.
“This okay?”
“Yeah. Maybe, um, hold on,” Pim said.
Pim reached for Charlie’s arm and wrapped it over his shoulder, holding his hand tight under the covers. Charlie hoped his palms weren’t too sweaty.
“Much better.”
Charlie concentrated on breathing normally. They were cuddling. They were holding hands. Pim was wearing his shirt. This was fine. He could be normal about this.
Pim was now fast asleep, chest softly rising and falling with each breath. He looked even more peaceful than on the plane.
And yeah, it felt good, the heat from Pim’s body so close to his, the way they interlocked like the puzzle pieces Charlie was thinking about earlier. He hadn’t been this close to anyone in months.
Things with his girlfriend, Zoey, had been fizzling out for a while. She hated visiting his place — always complaining about the rotten takeout in the fridge, the dishes stacked precariously in the sink, the drool stains on his clothes — and, for what it’s worth, Charlie didn’t like her apartment, either. She bought too many candles that smelled too candle-y. She wanted him to pay for all their dates, which was, like, totally unfair. And her roommates were rude.
They hadn’t officially broken up, not really, but they both knew it was coming. It was fine. Charlie preferred being single, anyway. At least Pim didn’t complain about his apartment. Pim loved hanging out with Charlie. That was why he was so cool.
When he let himself think about Pim, he thought about how his eyes creased up with each smile, as if something big and happy was trying to escape. How he held his hand that one time because he was too crossed to walk home in the ink-black night. How he bought him drinks and pre-rolls and even found a Coke bottle with his name on it.
He let himself think about Pim, now, because how could he not? They were practically spooning. And it was practical, really, given the snow, and the useless radiator, and the jet lag they shared.
Charlie closed his eyes. It was late. They had a big day ahead of them; he needed to rest.
-
DECEMBER 24 – 3:46 A.M.
The cuddling-for-heat plan had worked. It had worked a little too well, maybe, because Charlie was now soaked with sweat.
Pim was still asleep. He’d tucked himself closer into Charlie’s embrace, now fully enveloped by the quilt.
He squinted at the alarm clock and tried not to groan out loud. This thing — waking up in the middle of the night — was becoming a problem. He needed to call his psychiatrist. Or his neurologist. Or his mom.
There was another problem.
Charlie was hard. Very, very hard.
He’d been ignoring everything; skin, drinks, clothes, Pim, himself; he could not ignore this.
And to complicate the problem, he was hard and Pim was not just next to him, but flush against his thighs, and he could feel this, the sweat and heat of their forms, and it took all he had to not move, to not angle his leg above Pim’s, to not press a little deeper into his softness, to not wake him up and tell him everything he’d been feeling.
He turned around. It took a bit of shuffling, maneuvering the quilt in just the right way, but he did it.
On the other side of the bed, Pim shuddered. He was still asleep, but he could sense the loss of heat, and Charlie attempted to feel okay about this. It was a commendable attempt. He ought to be honored with a Guinness World Record for self-restraint, really. He ought to call them up right now. “Hello, Guinness World Records? I’d like to apply for the title of most repressed man in the world, please. Yes, I can provide evidence. Yes, I’m serious.”
Charlie closed his eyes again. He hadn’t realized they were open. He tried to focus on more wholesome things: counting sheep, counting the people he’d made smile in the past year, counting the times Pim made him smile since he’d known him, and then he was back there again, thinking about Pim, thinking about his cute little face, thinking about how much he’d like to push him up against a wall and just stare at him, and have him stare back, and how much better they’d feel if they just talked, really talked, about everything and nothing and whatever laid between, just them, just the two of them, together and one.
It was painful, Charlie thought, being able to know someone so well and not being able to know them any more than that.
He felt sick. His psych had told him to sleep on his left side. It was supposed to reduce acid reflux, or something like that. He couldn’t do that without going back to the same position he had with Pim, and he really couldn’t do that.
Pim stirred.
“Charlie?” he croaked out. “What’s, what’s wrong? Why are you all the way over there?”
“I, um, I just got kinda hot, is all.” It wasn’t a lie, technically. He was sweating.
“Oh. Well, um. I’m a bit cold, now. If you want to — if you want to, you know, come back here.”
He wanted to. So, so much. So very much.
“No, it’s all good, man. Maybe later.”
“Mm. Okay. Sleep tight, Charlie.”
“Sleep tight, Pim.”
-
DECEMBER 24 – 9:34 A.M.
Pim’s alarm — an 8-bit cover of “Fireflies” — had been going off for four minutes. Charlie had been awake for half an hour. The snow had stopped, but the sky was still somber and gray, from what he could see past the cracks in the frost-caked window.
They’d ended up cuddling again. Charlie wasn’t sure how it happened, honestly. And they were closer than before, both of his arms bent, not uncomfortably, over Pim’s shoulders, and his right leg pushed against Pim’s, and Pim appeared to have tucked them in, so they were now completely swaddled by the musty quilt.
Pim yawned. “Mmphmphm. Mmph. Good morning, Charlie.”
Charlie hastily disentangled himself from the mess of sheets.
“We should, uh, get going. Soon.”
“Wha? Oh, yeah.”
They checked their messages. Mr. Boss had just sent an invite to an encrypted group call. They sat on the edge of the bed, joining with Pim’s phone. It rang three times before Mr. Boss picked up.
“Hey, boys! Am I on speakerphone? How is it up there?”
“Um, yeah, it’s fine, so far,” Pim said. “We kind of hitched a ride with a crazy lady, and this motel you sent us to isn’t exactly, um, the best, but. Um. Yeah, it’s fine, I guess.”
“Great! Okay, here’s the sitch. This mission is for a very special client. He’s — Allan, that tickles, stop it! — ahem, as I was saying, he’s tried everything and still needs help, so he’s calling in the big shots. That’s us! We’re the big shots. Isn’t that exciting?”
Charlie looked unimpressed. “Wow. Yeah. So, uh, who is this guy, anyway?”
“Wait,” Pim said, “so, this guy lives here? At the North Pole? Like, year-round? Does that mean —”
“No way,” Charlie said.
A sharp laugh hissed through the phone. “You guys sure are smart cookies! Yeah, we’re helping Santa Claus.”
Pim started bouncing and flapping his hands with glee. “Really? We’re really helping Santa Claus?”
“Yeah, I literally, like, just said that.”
“Oh, Charlie, this is gonna be the best Christmas adventure ever!”
“Don’t get too excited. Santa’s been having some trouble with his reindeer as of late. Rudolph, to be specific. Says he refuses to leave the stable, only listens to Radiohead, chews on carrot stems all day, that sort of thing. And we can’t have Christmas without Rudolph! You two need to figure out what’s going on and get him back in the holiday spirit.”
“Rudolph! We’re gonna meet Rudolph! The Rudolph!”
“The big man himself is sending a few other reindeer to take you to his workshop. They’ll get there in — hey, what a coincidence, he just texted me! Yeah, they’ll be there in five minutes. Better get packing!”
Mr. Boss hung up. Pim looked like he was going to explode from giddiness. Charlie took it upon himself to gather their luggage and fix up the bed.
Damn, he had wanted to take a shower. Contrary to popular belief, Charlie did bathe, just not every day, because even the nine-in-one body-wash-shampoo-conditioner-et-cetera bottles were not exempt from Mr. Frog’s tariffs. He felt gross.
They left the keys with Michael, who was glad to hear they didn’t see any roaches, and headed to the parking lot, where two reindeer lounged on the curb, each with a cigarette in hand. (In hoof? Charlie didn’t like the way that sounded.)
“Yo,” greeted one of the reindeer. “You guys are Prim and Charlie?”
“Hello! It’s Pim, actually.”
“Yeah, his name is Pim,” Charlie chimed in.
“Whatever. I’m Blitzen. That’s Vixen.”
“The actual Blitzen, Charlie!” Pim squealed. “And Vixen! Oh, wow!”
“Hop on,” Vixen said, rolling her eyes. “Some of us have places to be.”
The reindeer tucked their cigarettes between their antlers and stood on all fours. Charlie helped Pim get on Blitzen’s saddle, despite Pim’s protests that he could totally climb up there himself, and took his own seat on Vixen.
It was a short trip, made even shorter by the reindeer opting to fly instead of run for most of it. Charlie didn’t even know they could do that without a sleigh. They arrived at a quaint cottage made of sun-bleached bricks; above the grandiose front doors hung a wooden sign, with big, blocky letters reading “CLAUS FAMILY WORKSHOP.” An indistinct tune — “Wonderful Christmastime,” perhaps — trickled out of an open window.
Pim and Charlie dismounted, not without more grousing from Pim about how he could do it just fine all by himself, thank you very much. Just then, as they finished brushing off the snow from their shoes, the front doors opened, and a white-bearded, Pim-sized critter strolled out.
“Ho ho ho! Hello, and welcome to the North Pole! I’m Santa Claus. You can call me Santa, or Mr. Claus, if you prefer. You must be the duo I’ve heard so much about.”
“Oh my god it’s Santa Charlie it’s Santa it’s Santa oh my god,” Pim said, hands covering his mouth in shock.
“So you’re a fan! I always love meeting fans. How’s your trip been so far? Are you enjoying the weather?”
“Yes it’s amazing oh my god this can’t be happening this is so crazy oh my god.”
Charlie scratched his chin. “So, um, our boss told you had a mission for us?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Come inside, let’s discuss. Tea or coffee, anyone? Or — hold on, I think if I ask nicely, I can get the missus to start up a pot of hot cocoa.”
Pim was nearly catatonic. “Hot cocoa! Yes, please!”
“I’m good, thanks,” Charlie said. He was still struggling with the toll that Drink had taken on his stomach.
They entered the workshop, where they were greeted by the sweet scent of cranberries and the mellow chatter of elves. Frosted chandeliers dripped from the ceiling beams like icicles. An array of intricately-carved oak tables took up most of the main room, appended on both sides by long benches occupied by the elves, each tinkering with various toys and trinkets. On the far end of the room, another Pim-like critter — presumably Mrs. Claus — sat by the crackling fireplace, cozied up with a blanket and a pair of knitting needles.
“This is where the magic happens,” Santa said. “Take a seat! You must be tired. Traveled all the way from Philadelphia, eh? Nice city. Very nice city.”
“Yes Philadelphia is a city yes nice city yes,” Pim managed.
“Wonderful! So, I take it your boss explained the… situation, say, we have here.”
“Yep,” Charlie said.
“Right. Well, Rudolph is an essential part of our team. Not that the other reindeer aren’t essential. It’s just, you know, I might be the boss, but he’s my second-hand man. And if Rudolph isn’t budging, we can’t really deliver presents like normal.”
“Yeah, totally.”
“So, what I’d like you to do is talk with him and get him out of this funk. The last thing I want to do is fire anyone, especially such a stellar employee, but honestly, if he doesn’t cheer up, then he can’t fly, and then I’m gonna blow everyone’s brains out, including my own.”
“Oh!” Pim said. “Wow! That sounds like… a lot!”
“Um, yeah, I’m not so sure that line of thinking is, um, conducive to the situation,” Charlie said. He’d learned the word “conducive” last week and hoped he was using it correctly.
“It’s stressful, you know? Being responsible for so many people’s happiness this time of year,” Santa said, sneaking a glance at Mrs. Claus. “You didn’t hear this from me, but the wife has been a total pain in the ass about this, recently. It’s all, ‘Pay your elves a living wage! Stop feeding marshmallows to the reindeer, it’s not good for them!’ It’s like, gimme a break, you know? I’m doing the best I can.” He took out a comically large cigar and lit it with the flames from the fireplace.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Wait, how much do you pay the elves?”
“Ahem. Anyway, we should get going. Let me check on that hot cocoa, first, and then I’ll show you the stable.”
Mrs. Claus had shuffled to the stove and was now dumping copious amounts of powdered chocolate into a boiling pot. They strode past her (Pim floated, really, swept up in the cozy aromas wafting through the air), then through a shed, then another shed, then yet another shed, and finally arrived at the stable.
They reached the last stall on the left. Inside, Rudolph was splayed out on a hay bale, surrounded by stacks of raunchy reindeer magazines, apple cores, and empty hard ginger beer bottles. His nose had dimmed to a dull pink. He glanced once at the newcomers and rolled his eyes.
“C’mon, dude, I told you, I’m fine,” Rudolph said. “I don’t need any fancy medicine or whatever these guys are trying to sell.”
Santa’s eyes twitched. “And I already told you, I’m not hiring any more doctors! Pim and Charlie flew all the way here just to help. Give them a chance.”
“Pfft.”
Charlie bent down and flipped through the magazines. Pim hesitated at the stall door, as if he was a vampire waiting to be invited in.
“Um, Mr. Rudolph, sir, we’re the Smiling Friends,” Pim said. “Could you, um, tell us a bit about what’s been going on?”
Rudolph cracked open another ginger beer and chugged it.
“Nothing’s going on. That’s the whole thing. I work, what, a few times a year? St. Nick’s Day, Christmas, some press conferences, and that’s it. I’m bored. I should’ve just been a regular reindeer like my brother. He has a very successful lawn mowing business, you know. Real innovative stuff. I could be munching grass all year instead of being cooped up in the place.”
“Stop acting like this is a punishment,” Santa fumed. “You’re my top-billed employee! Everyone knows your name! Nobody’s forcing you to stay here, you know. If you want to leave forever and never come back, that’s fine by me. Really, it’s fine. Go do nothing on your own time. But when you bring this attitude to work, team morale goes down the drain.”
“Team morale?” Rudolph hissed, vitriol oozing from every syllable. “You wanna talk about team morale? How are we supposed to be happy when all we do is practice flying in circles and attend seminars on chimney safety? And, if that’s not enough, we barely have room to practice anymore, because you enrolled too many elves in your little trade school and had to build three extra workshops just for them.”
“I liked those seminars,” Santa muttered.
Charlie rubbed his temples. “Okay, okay, okay, everyone just, like, calm down for a sec. Santa, Rudolph, it seems like there’s a lot of tension right now.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Rudolph said.
“Santa, why don’t you check in with how the elves are doing, or something, and let me and Pim talk to Rudolph alone?”
“Whatever,” Santa said, taking a long drag from his cigar. “This is giving me a headache.”
He retreated to the workshop. Pim finally mustered the courage to step inside the stall and took a seat on a hay bale next to Rudolph.
“Look, Mr. Rudolph, um, it sounds like you’re going through a tough time right now.”
“Just call me Rudolph. Mr. Rudolph was my father. And, yeah, I am. This sucks.” He shut his eyes and sighed. “I used to love this job. I was a boy wonder. I mean, how many other reindeer have a bright red nose? Zero, that’s how many. But year after year, the trips just get more grueling, and the kids get less grateful. Last Christmas, the best tip I got was one of those raw Pillsbury cookies with a pumpkin on it. Raw! Leftover from Halloween! Do you even know how offensive that is?”
“Wow, yeah,” Pim said. “Are you able to talk to the other reindeer about this? About how you feel, I mean?”
“Not really. They don’t get it. Like, they’re here because they’re the best at what they do. Me? I feel like a puppet. My face is plastered on every ornament. I can’t listen to the radio without hearing my name. I’ve been turned into countless inflatable balloons, most of which don’t even capture my good side. It’s like I’m just here for show, not because I’m, like, actually good at my job.”
Charlie shrugged. “I mean, you are good at your job, aren’t you? You’re the captain of the team. You deserve to be here as much as anyone else.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah!” Pim cried. “Santa’s a pretty smart guy. If he didn’t think you could do it, he wouldn’t have hired you.”
“I’m just — I don’t know if this is what I want to do for my entire life. There’s a whole world out there, and I only really see it once or twice a year.”
Pim tapped his chin in thought. “Hm. Well, what’s stopping you from just doing that? You said you don’t work much throughout the year, so why don’t you try spending your time on something more fulfilling? Like, um, another job, or volunteer work, or, you know, hobbies?”
“Ugh. It’s so difficult. There’s only so many jobs I can actually do. I don’t have a driver’s license, only a flying license, which most jobs don’t accept on applications. I would join Mrs. Claus’s knitting group, but my hooves are too bulky to hold the needles still, and then I just mess everything up, like I always do.”
“That’s a bit defeatist, isn’t it? I’m sure you don’t mess everything up,” Pim said. “Knitting might not be your strong suit, but it’s not mine, either, and I’m okay with that. We just have to find other things you’re good at. Um, so, what else do you like to do?”
“Well, I like to eat apples,” Rudolph said, gesturing at the pile of cores beside him. “And those magazines, they’re not all swimsuit issues, you know. They actually have some really interesting articles. I’ve been getting really into environmental sustainability in agricultural supply chains.”
“Oh! Yeah, um, that’s definitely something we can work with, right, Charlie?”
“Huh?” Charlie had, in fact, been looking at the swimsuit issues. “Oh, yeah, for sure. You, you like the environment?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. Cool. What… what about it do you like?”
“Well, I like the Arctic, because, you know, I live here, but it’s melting. So, that’s put a damper on things.”
Pim winced. “Oh. Yeah.”
“I just feel so hopeless. What can I possibly do? I’m just a reindeer.”
Rudolph reached for another ginger beer, but, seeing Pim’s skeptical face, put it down. Charlie was thinking of grabbing one, too, but it wasn’t even noon, and he’d been trying to cut back on his drinking. (His interpretation of “cut back” was admittedly skewed, though, given the number of six-packs he plowed through per week, plus an occasional handle, and, you know what, yeah, throw in a few tall boys, and a bottle or two of bottom-shelf Chardonnay, and what the hell, might as well grab a BuzzBall while he’s at it, and that was how he ended most trips to the liquor store.)
“Let’s get some fresh air,” Pim said. “I always feel better when I take a nice walk!”
“Fine. Not like I have anything better to do right now.”
They shuffled out the door, around the stables, and to the edge of an evergreen forest. Pim took a deep inhale, maybe too deep, because he started coughing and Charlie had to hit his back to get his breathing back to normal.
“This forest is pretty cool, I guess,” Rudolph said. “We can walk around here, if you want.”
They followed a trail lined with holly shrubs. A family of hares — and a confused-looking chipmunk — hopped alongside them. Every so often, sunlight poked through gaps in the clouds, casting a shimmer on the snow.
“Whoa, is that an owl?” Pim said, pointing at one of the branches of the towering trees. “I think it’s an owl!”
Charlie squinted up. “Dude, that’s a squirrel. When was the last time you got your eyes checked?”
“I’ll do it next year.”
“Yeah, right. Rudy, if I can call you Rudy, man, he always does this. I might just have to give you an eye exam myself.” Charlie imagined staring at Pim’s big, lopsided eyes, and Pim staring back, them just staring at each other all alone in a room, and he promptly stopped imagining.
“What would you even do?” Pim said. “You don’t know anything about eyes. You squint all the time, anyway.”
“I do not!”
“Yes you do!”
“Do not!”
“Do so!”
“Rudy, I don’t squint all the time, do I?”
They turned around. Rudolph was gone.
“Where’d he go?” Pim asked. “It hasn’t even been five minutes, and we’ve already lost him!”
“Chill, chill, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”
“Shoot.” Pim cupped his hands and started to shout. “Rudolph! Rudolph! Come back!”
Nothing. Even the hares and the chipmunk were nowhere to be found. They swiveled around and around, looking for any trace, any hoofprints, but there was nothing. All of the snow-drenched firs began to look the same; there weren’t even any distinguishable rocks or boulders to serve as landmarks. Despite the cold, sweat prickled on the back of Charlie’s neck.
“Dude, we might be lost.”
“No, no, no. We can’t be lost. We just got here.”
“I think we’re lost.”
“We’re still on the trail, see?”
The trail had dwindled into a thin path, its border now vaguely consisting of a few meager shrubs. To make matters worse, identical bushes and hedges dotted the surroundings, rendering obsolete any attempt to situate themselves.
“Fuck. Pim, this is crazy. We’re in the middle of nowhere, we lost our client, and my toes are gonna freeze off. This sucks. We should try to find our way back.”
Pim didn’t respond. Charlie could’ve sworn he heard him sniffle.
“Pim, c’mon, let’s go.”
“No! No, I’m not giving up just yet. He’s out here somewhere.”
“And he’ll come back eventually. Maybe he just wanted to go for a run, or a, a flight, or something. He wouldn’t just leave.”
“You don’t know that!” Pim had stopped, now, and faced Charlie, courageously defying the urge to pout. “You always do this! You just — you give up!”
“What are you even talking about, dude?”
“You didn’t trust me when we took the ride from Diane, and, okay, maybe she was crazy, but she wasn’t crazy to us! And with, with the whole thing with the room, you didn’t even, like, try to ask about getting another one with two beds! You just accepted it!”
A foreign kind of heat rose in Charlie’s cheeks. He should’ve taken the beer.
“Okay, first of all, Diane was actually crazy, and there was no way of knowing if she was gonna murder us or not.”
“But she didn’t!”
“That doesn’t matter! And as for the room thing, well, you didn’t ask either, Pim! You’re the one who gave him the money. You could’ve spoken up!”
“I’m not done. There’s been other times, you know, when I’ve thought about this. Charlie, sometimes, a lot of times, it feels like you just accept things as they are, without even trying to change them. Like with Zoey! You could be treating her a lot better, but you don’t! And I try to be nice, I try to be polite, but this — God, Charlie, it’s like you don’t even care!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t bring my girlfriend into this. Zoey has nothing to do with this. And even if she did, that’s none of your business.”
“Really? You really think that? Is she, is she even your girlfriend anymore?”
“Fuck you, man! Just, just, fuck you.”
Pim crossed his arms. Charlie huffed. They both stared at the ground.
“Pim,” Charlie said, “I’m, um, I’m sorry for making you feel that way. Like, that I don’t care. I do care. I care a lot. It’s just hard for me to, like, show it, sometimes.”
Pim looked up. “I’m sorry, too. I know you care. I also care, you know. I… care. A lot.”
“So, um. Good. That’s good. We both care.”
“Yeah.”
Charlie didn’t know what to do. He was still cold. Pim was probably cold, too.
“Hey,” Charlie said, biting back the growing lump in his throat, “can we, um, talk about something?”
“Um… okay?”
He swallowed. “I’ve been, uh, thinking about some things, recently. A lot of things. And I don’t really know how to phrase this, but, uh. I think this might have started a long time ago, but it’s really, like, come up a bit more in the past few days.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
“Um. When we were on the plane, you know, and you took a nap, you kind of, like, slept on me? Like, you laid your head on my arm.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, you did, dude. And, um, then, at the motel, when we had to share the bed — and I know, I know, yeah, we could’ve asked for an extra room, but it’s fine, it’s over now — and you, like, had me hug you, and, like, dude, we were basically spooning, and, um, it just, it made me think, about things.”
Pim frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It’s, um.” Charlie pinched his forehead. “It was just, it was a lot, you know?”
“I don’t. I mean, no, I don’t know.”
“Fuck. I’m — I’m trying to figure out how to word this. Gimme a sec.”
A bird twittered in the distance. The clouds had parted, now, and the trees welcomed the sun, almost bending toward it, and light flooded the forest, and Charlie suddenly felt all topsy-turvy, unsteady and unready, like a wind-whipped scarecrow, lonely and hollow.
“What I’m trying to say,” Charlie said, “is that I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to help. I don’t know how to get us out of here. But I know you’re my friend, and I know I’m your friend, and I know that I — that I feel a lot of things, and a lot of things that I feel are things that I feel about you.”
Pim gave him a puzzled look. “What?”
“Just, just bear with me, okay? Pim, you make me feel things that I’ve never felt about anyone. You’re the best. You’re so, you’re so positive, and you’re nice, and you’re nice to me, even when I’m not nice to you. And I know I’m not so nice, all the time, like you. And — really, what I mean to say is, I wouldn’t want to spend my life with anyone but you. If I was, like, Jesus, if I was nailed to the cross, crucified, and everything, I’d die for humanity, obviously, because, yeah, that’s the whole point, but… but I’d mostly die for you, Pim.”
Charlie took a breath.
That was a lot. He probably didn’t mean any of that. At all. Definitely not.
He looked at Pim. Pim, with his impossibly big heart, and with his impossibly big eyes, always drowning in his love for every living thing, and always wearing that shirt buttoned up to the top, taking everything seriously, taking in everything and everyone like an infinite font of water, like the font in which Charlie dipped his fingers before sitting at the far end of a pew, dripping with eternal love, dripping with a confounding amount of love that Charlie could not even begin to imagine, and it was all too much, too, too much.
Pim looked back at him. Charlie wanted him to say something, anything, anything at all. He didn’t.
Charlie coughed. “Well, we should head back, maybe.”
“Hold on.”
He didn’t have anything to hold onto.
“Charlie, that was…”
He held his breath.
“… that was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Yeah. Of course. It’s, it’s no biggie.”
“No, I mean, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Ever.”
“Damn. Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, um. So. Uh.”
Pim stepped forward. “I’ve been thinking a lot, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, Pim said. “About… you. About us.”
Charlie breathed out.
“And I’ve been thinking about yesterday. And last night. In the bed. When you — when you let me hold your hand. And, well, if I was out of line, I’m sorry. But I. I like you, Charlie. A lot.”
He breathed in.
“I like you too, Pim.”
“Yeah.”
So. That was that. They had talked. This was fine. This was 100% fine.
“Hey, uh, Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
Pim stood on the tips of his toes and gave Charlie a kiss on the cheek.
“That’s it,” Pim said. “That’s, um, that’s all I wanted to do.”
The heat in Charlie’s cheeks didn’t feel so foreign anymore.
“Hey, Pim,” Charlie said.
“Yeah?”
Charlie wrapped his arms around Pim. “I love you, man.”
He felt Pim’s smile crease against his hoodie. It was the best feeling in the world.
“I love you, too.”
They parted, smiling as hard as they could, and Charlie knew his face was going to hurt from how hard he was smiling, and he knew his face would wrinkle, and he didn’t care so much about that, anymore.
“Woo-hoo! Hot damn! Get a room, you two!”
They spun around to see Rudolph standing before them. Charlie wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. He was surprised to realize that he didn’t care.
“You guys make quite a couple,” Rudolph said. “To be honest, I thought you two were already banging, but I guess not, huh?”
Pim scowled. “Where have you been? We thought you ditched us!”
“Relax,” Rudolph said, rolling his eyes. “I was just flying around. Nothing to be worried about.”
Charlie, following Pim’s lead, also scowled. “Dude, you can’t just abandon us whenever you want. We have no idea where we are right now.”
“P’shaw. We’re, like, five minutes, tops, from the stables. You weren’t really lost.”
“Yeah, we were!”
“No, you weren’t. C’mon, I’ll lead us back home.”
They followed Rudolph, eyeing each other with irritation, and maybe, maybe, a dab of desire. The reindeer wasn’t lying — the stables were, actually, a short walk away, but Pim and Charlie weren’t going to argue any more with him. They would have walked anywhere if they just had each other.
-
DECEMBER 24 – 1:43 P.M.
When they returned to Rudolph’s stall, Santa was there waiting for them, red-faced and restless.
“Where have you been? We needed to start prepping, like, an hour ago!”
Rudolph smirked. “We were a bit busy. Or, should I say, Pim and Charlie were busy.”
They looked up at Santa with twin sheepish grins. “Sorry. We’re here now, though.”
“Whatever! Rudolph, how are you doing? Did they make you smile?”
Rudolph kicked at the piles of beer and magazines. “You know what? They did. They made me smile, in their own sort of way.”
“Amazing,” Santa said. “I don’t need to know the details. Let’s get your harness on. We might be living in the afternoon, but it’s already midnight in Hawai’i. Mele Kalikimaka and all that. We’ve gotta get going.”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
All of the other reindeer were gathered at the front of the stables. Elves rushed back and forth between the workshop and Santa’s sleigh, dumping their work into his bottomless bag of presents, murmuring curses amongst themselves.
Pim twiddled with his mittens. They were purple, darker than his skin, but a perfect match, and Charlie wanted to help him, so bad, so very much, but he stilled.
“Did Mrs. Claus ever make that hot cocoa?” Pim asked.
“Oh!” Santa said. “Yes, yes, come here. We’ve got to get you back to Philadelphia, anyway. And give my thanks to your boss. He’s a very old friend of mine.”
Charlie grinned at Pim. “D’you want marshmallows? Because, you know, I didn’t totally get rid of all the edibles in my bag, and some of them may or may not be marshmallows.”
“Charlie!”
“Pim.”
They smiled at each other. This was good. This was really, actually, fine.
-
DECEMBER 25 – 12:03 A.M.
“I can’t thank you enough, boys,” Santa said. “The least I can do is drop you off. Just let me know where to land. It’ll have to be on the roof, though, I’m afraid. The last time I tried to park on the street here, the sleigh was covered in tickets. So much for diplomatic immunity.”
Pim looked up at Charlie. “How about… your place?”
Charlie smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good. Here, lemme give you the address, Santa.”
“No need! I know where everyone on the planet lives. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, son. Hell, Obama consulted me when he was looking for bin Laden. But I’ve been sworn to secrecy ever since the Geneva Conventions! I can’t just reveal everyone’s location all willy-nilly.”
They nodded politely at this admission.
“We’ll be there before you know it,” Santa said. “Giddyup, team!”
Pim and Charlie sat back and watched the stars pass them by. They rode above the clouds, swaying and dipping with the wind, and it felt like they could hear everything, the laps of ocean waves, the squawks of seabirds, the honks of late-night traffic, the twinkle of laughter from children stealing bites of sugar cookies, and their own breathing, close and soft, dizzy with peace.
Charlie’s gaze caught on one cloud in particular, a bit far from them, coiled and thin. If he squinted hard enough, at the right time, under the right moonlit glow, he could make out the faint silhouette of a hand reaching out of the mist, and he raised his hand to give a timid wave in return. But then he stopped.
Pim was looking at him. Studying him, more like it.
“What do you see, Charlie?”
He swallowed. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Oh.”
Charlie looked back at Pim. He lowered his hand to the velvet seat cushion. And if Pim inched his hand toward his, until their fingers touched, until their thumbs joined in a perfect knot, well, nobody was around to see it.
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JANUARY 3 – 8:02 A.M.
After a week of festive feasts, midday naps, and general holiday leisure, they were back in the office. Glep had been gifted a new iPad, on which he scrolled from the comfort of the bean bag, alternating between Instagram Reels and TikTok at maximum volume. Pim and Charlie were tasked with taking down the Christmas decorations and replacing them with New Year’s streamers. Allan sipped coffee at the table; Mr. Boss, standing in the doorway, glanced at him every minute or so. Not that anyone was counting.
“Oh, by the way, here’s the rest of the cash, Mr. Boss,” Pim said.
“Wait, you didn’t use all of it? I specifically gave you that much so you could get two rooms.”
Charlie did a double take.
“Come again?”
“Yeah, it was $50 for a room, right? Oh, man, you guys crack me up. You didn’t seriously share a room, did you?”
Pim blushed. “Um.”
“No way!” Mr. Boss said. He wiped a tear from his eye. “That is too funny. Well, I hope you had some good old-fashioned bonding time. Now I just need to figure out what I’m gonna do with the rest of this. It took me for-ever to find a bank that could convert USD to North Pole Dollars.”
Allan perked up at this.
“Hey, Mr. Boss, why don’t we take a trip there?”
Mr. Boss swiveled around. “What a great idea! If Pim and Charlie could do it, we can, too!”
Pim looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at Pim.
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “We did it.”