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The year was drawing to a close and with it came the cold of winter to Flamechurch. While the small city was on the edges of the Winterlands and didn’t bear the frozen brunt of the season like Stormhail, they still received a generous coating of snow that left the streets bright and glittering. It was a magical season that gave the perfect backdrop to the upcoming Sacred Flame Festival. A week-long event that straddled the end of the current year and the start of the next.
All over the city the frigid air was buzzing with excitement from the residents. Lights were hung and festive garlands neatly arranged by cheerful folks bundled up in their winter warmest. Smiles adorned nearly everyone’s faces.
Nearly.
One notable exception was the plastered on grin belonging to one Temenos Mistral. A beloved priest of the church who, despite growing up in Flamechurch and having experienced thirty-odd winters there, still did not do well with the season. Even with layers of thermals and woolen knitwear topped by a warm coat he still shivered. A sharp contrast to his boyfriend Crick, who sauntered down the streets with a carefree smile and a light coat. The Sacred Flame within him must be some sort of wildfire compared to Temenos’ modest candle.
Normally their difference in body heat wouldn’t be an issue, but while clad in so many outer layers Temenos couldn’t get close to purloin the heat he needed. So he shivered and hugged his bag of groceries closer. Quietly cursing the cold.
But winter had her last laugh, as Temenos’ fancy shoes caught on a patch of ice and he was nearly deposited firmly on his rear end. It was only due to his boyfriend’s timely juggling of their groceries that he stayed upright. “Are you okay, Temenos?” Crick asked as he lifted his boyfriend back to his feet. His hand stayed on Temenos’ upper arm, ready in case another patch of ice was lurking.
“Perfectly fine. Thank you, my dear.”
His arm ached from the sudden movement forcing his cold muscles to flex. Even though the sun was out and shining at its peak mid-afternoon warmth, it was still chilly as the pair walked home from their weekly shopping trip. The exercise was good, Temenos had to admit. Their apartment was close enough to both of their workplaces and everything they needed.
And it was nice, really, just walking with each other to complete little mundane errands. Even after a full year of living together, they hadn’t tired of each other’s company.
For security, and slightly for something else, Temenos shuffled his own grocery bag to his other arm and looped his free one around Crick’s. “Best I hold on tight though, just in case.”
Crick chuckled and pulled him close. And that close, even despite all the layers, Temenos could feel a little stream of warmth radiating off Crick’s arm and his exposed cheeks. Ah, that was much better.
There were only a few more blocks to traverse before they would make it to their apartment building. It wasn’t the nicest in all of Solistia, but it was home without needing to spend extra time minding a yard. Their neighbors were friendly, and quiet too, aside from the occasional argument. Though as luck (or misfortune) would have it, one was happening just as the couple approached the entrance.
“But daddyyy,” a little boy who lived a few doors down wailed, “I want my presents nooow!”
His beleaguered father sighed. “Josh, you know the Festival is weeks away, and you know we can’t open presents until that evening.”
“I don’t wanna wait…umm…” The little boy paused and counted something off on his mitten covered fingers. “I don’t wanna wait ten more sleeps to open my presents!” He sniffled, nose red from the cold and impending tears.
Crick and Temenos looked at each other, then caught the eye of the boy’s father, who looked as though he had battled his way through this conversation a few times now. Temenos left the warmth and security of Crick’s arm, and kneeled down carefully to speak to the boy at eye level. “Now, now, Josh, we’ve studied this at church haven’t we? Aelfric gave the Sacred Flame to humanity on the last day of the year, and so we wait until the same day for our Sacred Flame Festival presents. You wouldn’t want Aelfric to think you don’t appreciate his gift, would you?” he asked, eyes friendly but tone chiding.
“That’s right,” Crick added, nodding behind him. “All the good little girls and boys wait for their presents, and they feel all the more special for it.”
Little Josh heaved a sigh far too large for his stature. “Okay… I’ll wait, I guess.”
Temenos patted the boy’s head with a pleasant smile. “There’s a good little adherent.” The touch of sarcasm went unnoticed by the child and his father, but Crick made a little noise of exasperation as he helped the sometimes blasphemous priest back to his feet.
“Thank you, Father Temenos,” the man said gratefully, and with a nod to them both the family was on their way.
“Shall we, Father Temenos?”
Temenos smiled at Crick’s teasing, his boyfriend, his “fluffy little lamb” as Temenos liked to call him due to his static-puffed hair, had learned to play. He much preferred things this way, compared to the stiff and formal Crick of their first meetings, who was nothing but respectful to the holy figure.
Even afraid to touch him back then, another habit thankfully lost as Crick took Temenos’ hand and pulled him into the lobby. Their apartment was on the second floor, just up a flight of stairs (indoors and ice free, thank the gods) and the third door down the hall. They traversed the well known path and came out of the stairwell to find a surprise waiting. Piled in front of their door at the end of the hall were a large wooden crate and several boxes.
Temenos went ahead to inspect the packages while Crick groaned internally. It was earlier than he expected, but at least Temenos’ gift made it before the holiday.
He caught up with Temenos and together they looked over the deliveries. The crate was a huge square, just as wide as it was long but only half as tall, and, according to the arrows pointing at the opposite wall and not the ceiling, placed on its side. Temenos tilted his head to read the shipping label, “Crick Wellsley, apartment eight… What in the world have you ordered, my dear?” He squinted at the tiny writing in the corner for the return address. “Ku Industries, care of Hikari Ku… Ah, something from our friend, it seems?” How curious, Hikari hadn’t sent them gifts out of the blue like this before.
But before Temenos could properly ponder the mysterious package, Crick unlocked the door and ushered him inside. He shoved his bag of groceries into Temenos’ hands with a quick, “The groceries need putting away, could you do that while I get all this inside?” and Temenos nearly stumbled as he was pushed over the threshold.
Temenos nudged off his shoes by the door and cast Crick a final backwards glance before he went inside. Instead of annoying, he found Crick’s flustered behavior curious. Just what was he hiding?
He passed their coats, hung by the hooks in the entryway then went through the living room into the kitchen. Tall windows lined the main room to let in what light winter allowed and provided a beautiful view of the city. The rest of the walls were taken up by bookshelves, crammed with Temenos’ favorite novels and Crick’s awards. An intermingling of their lives together, accented by cozy throws and pillows on their huge couch.
What had once been a bachelor pad was now a cozy home for two.
Which meant food for two. It took Temenos long enough to put their groceries away that by the time he turned around Crick had already set aside their coffee table. In its place was the giant crate. The remaining boxes sat in a pile next to the couch, just waiting to be opened.
The crate was the most important it seemed, as Crick made to open it first. He fetched a hammer and with some amount of effort prised off the lid to reveal… packing peanuts. undreds, no, thousands of the things. “A rather heavy crate for just styrofoam,” Temenos noted as he peered inside.
Crick stepped back, fiddling nervously with the hammer. “They’re to protect what’s inside–” Temenos smiled knowingly. “–which is your Festival present. So, um…” He gestured towards the snow-like pile of packaging, urging Temenos on.
“Oh… I don’t know about this.” Temenos stepped back as well, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He turned away, refusing to look at the crate. “I’ve heard that all good little boys and girls should be patient and wait until Festival’s Eve before they open their presents.”
Crick knew Temenos’ teasing well after all this time. Yet, he still was weak to it. He had been planning this present for months, fretfully messaging with Hikari about… well, everything. It had to be perfect. And now Temenos was refusing to even look at it. Crick knew Temenos was teasing, at least he was pretty sure. But what if he wasn’t…
Wait. Wouldn’t it be terribly rude to make Temenos assemble his own present?
Crick rushed over to Temenos, nearly barreling into him as he scooped the priest up, grateful he had caught himself in time before he let Temenos see what was inside. Crick continued for a few more steps and deposited Temenos neatly on the couch. To Temenos’ curious stare Crick explained, “You should wait and see it once it's assembled, just stay here please.”
“Ah, you’d like me to sit and do nothing while you do all the work? I believe I can manage that.”
Back to the crate he went. His hands brushed aside some of the packing material to reveal a large piece of solid wood, expertly put together from different types of trees to form a subtle geometric pattern. He felt along the smooth surface for a moment before his hand hit a little booklet taped to the table. Crick flipped through it, humming in understanding. “No peeking now, Temenos,” he warned without looking up from the instructions.
Temenos promptly closed his eyes and covered them with his hands. “No peeking,” he echoed.
Though when his eyes opened and fingers parted only moments later he was definitely not “peeking”. Temenos was observing, watching, inspecting, but definitely not peeking.
Temenos settled himself back against the cushions and watched Crick do what he rarely got to observe from the third person. Temenos had never seen Crick in action at work, much to Crick’s own relief, and most demonstrations of strength at home were done to Temenos himself. At times lifting his boyfriend instead of directing him with words, as Crick had just done, and at others holding Temenos up for more… creative nighttime endeavors.
But now Temenos could see all of Crick. How appealingly tight his pants hugged his form, all toned legs and sculpted glutes as he bent over the crate and lifted out a large flat square of wood. It was set aside and Temenos could see the muscles in his back flexing, even though the thick knit of his sweater. Crick was strong enough to set it down slowly, careful not to let even the smallest speck of dirt on the rug scratch in the ornate wood, and then lift out the next piece with barely any effort.
Though the second piece was heavier, judging by the bulge of veins in his arms revealed by rolled up sleeves. Held in hands that could nearly circle Temenos’ waist… Oh dear.
Temenos closed his fingers back over his eyes and took a deep breath. He had decided to be good and let Crick properly present the… whatever his Festival gift was properly. There would be plenty of time for distractions later.
Once calmed Temenos peered through his fingers again to see Crick set down a different piece on the rug. It looked like a coffee table, placed upside-down with its legs stuck up comically in the air. Surely this couldn’t be the way it was meant to sit? Crick fished around in the box again while Temenos had a few more impure thoughts on his jeans and pulled out what looked like a small pizza box covered in grating. It was set carefully in the center of the table, moved about by minute measures until something lined up.
Once satisfied, Crick stood and left the room. Temenos took the opportunity to crane his head and try to look closer before the sound of footsteps forced him to hide his eyes again.
The harsh whirring of the drill went off a few times, then with a soft thud Temenos assumed the table had been righted. Why was it upside down in the first place, and what was the strange box? Questions stewed in his mind; certainly a suitably mysterious present for him.
“Temenos?” Crick called. “Could you open the large box next to you and bring me what’s inside? I think it has what I’m looking for… But don’t look!”
Temenos decided not to ask how exactly he was supposed to fetch scissors from the kitchen and get the box open, all without looking in Crick’s direction or at the contents, and instead exaggeratedly stumbled about the apartment with his hands still firmly over his eyes. “You can look where you’re walking!” Crick shouted from behind.
“Oh, how very generous of you!” Temenos shouted back from a few paces away.
He fetched the kitchen scissors and kept his eyes firmly on the blades on his trek back. The box opened easily enough, despite Crick’s worried warnings not to accidentally slice through the contents. Temenos wanted to needle him about why he wasn’t opening the box himself, despite how clear it was that the man had literally boxed himself in and couldn’t leave his side of the living room without several long minutes of rearranging. He looked like a forlorn lamb, penned in by a cruel shepherd.
Temenos chuckled at the image and turned back to the box. The flaps lifted easily to reveal a mass of deep teal fabric. He touched the cloth. How plush! And now that he looked closer Temenos could see neat squares of quilting.
“Just hand that over please,” Crick requested in vain. Temenos pulled it out to find a very large square quilt, the edges thickly hemmed and lined with golden embroidery depicting a repeating pattern of the Sacred Flame. It reminded him of what the inquisitors of the church wore in the distant past. Back in the days of magic and dark gods. He held the whole thing up and turned it around a few times.
The blanket was strange. There were 4 holes, neatly hemmed like buttonholes, at the four corners of a square outlined in the middle. Certainly not a useful feature for a blanket meant to keep people warm?
“Temenos…”
“Ah, yes, here you are.”
The blanket was handed over and Temenos made a show of covering his eyes once more. He heard Crick shuffling around the cloth, the clack of something being set into place, pattering feet crossing the living room to the wall and back, and, finally, a soft click. Then it was quiet, save for the sounds of cars on the street below and their neighbor’s voices around.
Sock feet padded across the floor and a pair of warm hands pulled Temenos’ away from his eyes. “Here’s your present, my love, happy Festival.”
Temenos looked at his gift. It was a low table, square shaped and only slightly taller than their coffee table that had sat there before. The blanket Temenos pulled from the box was now tucked under the table top. It erupted out of each edge to completely cover the sides, long enough to reach the rug below and spill out in all directions.
Crick fished around in one of the other boxes and took out four fluffy cushions that he set under each edge, carefully laying the blanket back over them. “Well,” he said as he straightened up, “what do you think?”
Temenos was mildly confused. “It’s a table… with a skirt.”
Crick deflated. “The proper name is ‘kotatsu’.”
With Crick’s helpful comment clarifying exactly nothing, Temenos’ bland expression stayed in place. “And what exactly does one do with a ‘kotatsu’?”
Crick pulled Temenos along by the hand. “I think you’ll really like it, just come try it out.” He settled himself down to sit next to one of the cushions and patted it. Temenos took his suggestion and sat down. It was comfortable, at least. “Now, for the best part…” Crick said dramatically as he picked up the edge of the blanket and set it over Temenos’ lap.
At first Temenos didn’t understand, although he did feel much warmer around his knees. He instinctively pulled the blanket up, much the same way he did on chilly nights when Crick had grabbed too much for himself, and found more warmth. The air under the blanket…
Temenos crumpled himself to the side and dove under the table to find a warm blast of air against his face. The space under the table was heated! “Ah!” he gasped in surprise, quickly followed by, “Ouch!” as he jerked up too quickly at the discovery and whacked his head on the underside.
“Are you okay?” The panic in Crick’s voice was muffled by cloth and wood.
Temenos pulled himself free and rubbed the sore spot on his head. “Just fine, I’ll have a nice bruise to make up for the one the sidewalk couldn’t give me earlier.” He arranged himself properly on the cushion and set the blanket back around his waist. Crick gently touched his head, eyes asking if he really was fine before he shuffled away with Temenos’ nod. He took a cushion for himself at the adjacent edge and let his legs join Temenos’ under the table.
“I’m surprised how fast it gets warm,” Crick observed. His longer legs adjusted and bumped into Temenos.
They sat together for a while, listening to the hum of activity outside.
“What did you call this again?”
Crick picked up the instruction booklet and passed it to Temenos. “It’s a kotatsu,” he said carefully, fumbling over the new syllables. “I was talking to Hikari about my ideas for your Festival present and he told me about it. He said they’re popular in Hinoeuma in the winter.”
Temenos scooted a little further under the table. “It is an interesting contraption, though I can’t admit I’m entirely sold on receiving furniture…”
His eyes fell to the booklet and he picked it up to flip through the pages. “It’s easy to put together at least, oh, hmm…” He had arrived at the last page and flipped to the back cover where there was more writing. These instructions were written in neat penmanship instead of print. “It seems you’ve forgotten a step, Crick.”
Temenos passed the papers back to Crick who read the note curiously. “I was wondering what that last box was for but…” He paused. “‘Put the bowl on the center of the table and place all the oranges inside…’ Oranges?” He got up and fetched the last box that had been sitting by its lonesome by the door. It was opened by the new kotatsu and the smell of citrus filled the air as soon as the flaps were lifted. “They certainly are orange,” Crick noted as he pulled one out.
“And small.” Temenos examined one of the others, small enough to be nearly entirely enclosed in his fingers. Nimble fingers turned it around and around. “A regional variety, perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” Crick agreed. He set a large wooden bowl, decorated with the same ornate craftsmanship and pattern as the kotatsu, at the center and meticulously stacked the oranges inside. “There, that should do it.”
“It should, but now what?”
“Now–”
Crick’s thought was cut off by the muffled chime of an alarm. He fished his phone out of his pocket to turn it off. “Now I go to work, actually.” He got up and disappeared into the bedroom. Leaving Temenos alone with his present. His thumb traced along an edge to one slightly beveled corner. The craftsmanship really was exquisite. And the warmth… Temenos sighed as he felt the stiffness in his legs from winter’s chill melt away. This was rather nice.
A few minutes later Crick emerged, dressed in one of the plain black shirts he usually wore to work. Shirts that Temenos was particularly fond of, especially with how tight they were around Crick’s well sculpted chest.
“Stay safe out there, my dear,” Temenos bid after Crick bent over for a quick kiss.
“Always,” Crick promised.
Then, after stepping back into his boots and zipping up his coat, Crick was gone. The final click of the lock engaging and fading steps down the hallway were the last of him before it was just Temenos in the apartment. Left to wait until Crick got back from his long evening shift.
- - -
It was just before dawn when Crick was done. He walked back to the apartment mostly in darkness, only accompanied by the first rays of the rising sun on the latter half. The burning orb climbed over the hills just as he made it to the door. He nodded to it, as he always did. From one early riser to another.
Then he went into the building and up the stairs to their floor. Crick stepped lightly as he approached the door and turned the key slowly. With a soft click he opened it, hopefully quiet enough to keep from waking Temenos. He was a light sleeper and a slight insomniac; Crick always hated to wake him when he came home early.
But this time Temenos wasn’t in their bed, tucked under a mountain of quilts and comforters. Instead Crick found him exactly where he had left him, legs still curled under the kotatsu and blanket pulled nearly to his chest. This head was resting on the table top, buried in his arms to hide from the impending light and chill against his nose and cheeks. Around him were the littered remains of one of the oranges.
But the sight made Crick smile.
He fetched a blanket to tuck around his boyfriend’s shoulders and deposited a quick kiss against an exposed cheek. Then Crick sat down under the opposite side to watch Temenos enjoy his present. A grin stretched wide across his face. Temenos liked it!
- - -
- - -
- - -
The next week brought a larger deposit of snow and the anticipated holiday party. Many similar ones were held all over Flamechurch during this time of year; companies treating their workers to more alcohol than was advised, families hosting out of town relatives, and friends getting together to celebrate and commiserate. Though none of these private events were held anywhere near as grand as the main cathedral of the Church of the Sacred Flame. But when one of the hosts is the pontiff, well, surely Aelfric would allow the use of his facilities for a little merriment?
And what a fantastic event it was. Even after the winding drive home Temenos and Crick were still comfortably inebriated and buzzing with the remains of the party as they tumbled out of their taxi. Warmed bone-deep by their coats and copious mulled wine running through their veins. They held on to each other as they stumbled up the stairs to their apartment, just as the clock in the distant square started chiming for midnight.
“I’m glad we weren’t out too late,” Crick said in a loud whisper as he fumbled with the key. Temenos giggled as they just made it through the door, hopefully quietly enough to not disturb the neighbors. Temenos left Crick at the entry to fight with the tricky task of undoing his laces. Crick frowned. The knot kept drifting about… or was that his eyes?
“Agreed, and now there’s plenty of time for more fun,” Temenos drawled as he walked past.
Crick glanced up at him with raised brows. “We do still have work tomorrow, even if we’re on later shifts.”
“Yes, yes... I was mostly kidding.” Temenos wandered off into the apartment, getting ready for bed, Crick figured. Though around the time he finally got his boots off Crick heard the tell-tale click of the kotatsu’s heater turning on. He knew Temenos couldn’t see his face from here, so he didn’t make an attempt to hide his huge smile.
If Temenos wanted to enjoy his gift, Crick figured they could stay up just a bit later.
Crick put his boots away and hung up his coat, then went into the kitchen. He moved aside the various canisters of tea and coffee in the cabinet to find the smaller container of powdered hot chocolate in the back. Cocoa would be perfect, no caffeine and not too much sugar before bed.
He heated up a saucepan of milk and added a little less of the powdered mix than usual. But he made up for it with a generous swirl of whipped cream in Temenos’ cup. Enough that the brown liquid was entirely hidden under a mountain of white. But that was just the way Temenos liked it, and Crick couldn’t help but indulge him.
Temenos was already under the thick blanket when Crick came out of the kitchen. He had a favored side, facing the set of windows that overlooked the city and next to their TV. From there Temenos could get natural light for his reading and still see Crick’s progress in the latest game while also watching his adorable expressions of frustration when a boss fight got too difficult. Crick took the side next to that, where he faced the TV but could still reach Temenos between rounds. Even if Temenos sometimes complained his hands were sweaty, he never pulled away from Crick’s touch.
Crick set their mugs down on a pair of coasters and settled in on his usual side. It had begun to snow just after they arrived and the fat flakes glowed golden from the streetlights. Flamechurch still used the old fashioned gas flames instead of switching to electric ones, but that was part of the city’s charm according to the residents. A little reminder of the huge brazier of the Sacred Flame that ever blazed in front of the cathedral.
Temenos sipped at his cocoa and set it back on the coaster with a soft tap. “That
was
a good party,” he murmured to himself. Eyes already starting to droop as the thrill of music and friends wore off.
“It was,” Crick agreed. “Between Roi and Partitio, they know everyone in Solistia. I still can’t believe they were able to get Dolcinaea to attend.”
“An owed favor to Partitio, I’m sure.”
Temenos' hands idly tapped out one of the songs from the party against the tabletop. Agnea had been invited as well, and somehow the superstar found time in her busy schedule to make it. The pair performed a few hymns as a duet for the season before switching to their own hits. They swapped off, sometimes singing together as the night wore on, to cheers from their friends, and a few times they sang with other attendees of the party. Those who were less skilled at singing but very skilled at drinking.
Temenos chuckled as he recalled Partitio trying his hand at singing “My Festival Wish is You” with Agnea and how hard Agnea fought to keep composed through his caterwauling. It may have been his favorite part of the night, but honestly, there was so much fun it was hard to choose.
Instead, he posed the question to Crick, “What was your favorite part of the evening?”
“My favorite part, hmm…” Crick took another sip of hot chocolate and considered the question. His toes wiggled under the table, fond of the building warmth that crept all the way up to his chest. It was nice on his stomach, after eating a ton of delicious finger foods. Ochette had brought some phenomenally preserved meats and there were little shepherd’s pie bites… He quickly took another sip of cocoa before he drooled on the table.
Though food aside, it was wonderful to see all their friends again. Everyone was so scattered to different portions of the continents, or even across the sea in many cases. It was rarer and rarer that they all got together like this, and even though they had planned the Festival party for months still many couldn’t attend. Those absences made Crick’s heart heavy, so he shook his head and moved on.
“I’d say… when Veronica had a few too many and picked up the table Agnea and Dolcinaea were sitting on while they were singing. It was funny but… I’m honestly more impressed how easily she carried them around. I don’t think she even broke a sweat.”
Temenos snorted into his mug, blowing whipped cream all over the table. Crick quickly grabbed a tissue to mop up the flecks before they could stain Temenos’ present.
“I just found it impressive too how well Dolcinaea kept her poise.” The renowned singer didn’t miss a note even while she was lifted into the air; despite Agnea giggling at her side through a few bars.
“I’d guess she’s used to it,” Temenos noted with a wry smile. He cast Crick a flirtatious glance over the rim of his mug, finally having taken a sip, before setting it down. “But a good favorite memory. Your least favorite, then?”
Crick made a face. One that spoke of something awful that made him fold his arms and bury his head between them. He mumbled something muffled into the table.
Temenos leaned closer. The tip of his nose brushed Crick’s sweater and he nudged lightly with it. “What was that, my wool-clad dear? My fluffy little lamb?”
He got a loud groan in reply. Crick lifted his head enough to petulantly exclaim, “When Castti beat me at the arm wrestling tournament!”
“There, there…” Temenos offered a placating pat to Crick’s shoulder and tried very very hard not to laugh. Crick’s bottom lip was sticking out in his pouting and he looked an awful lot like little Josh from the other day. Indignant at the world for the (perceived) grand slight. “At least Ochette won in the end, so she didn’t take all the glory from you?”
“I suppose…” Crick’s head turned to the side to lay a cheek on one arm. He looked up at Temenos with those doleful blue eyes, half covered by his hair. Fluffed from static and the dry winter air. Temenos brushed the stray strands aside with a finger, then ran his fingertip down the length of Crick’s cheek. “You’re cold!” Crick said suddenly and snatched Temenos’ hand away.
How warm Crick’s hands always were.
This casual touch. Temenos was still unused to it himself, even after all their time living together, but he loved it so. Crick’s large steady hands on his back, his shoulders, or held tightly within his own. Temenos knew he could put his hands back under the kotatsu to warm them up, but if Crick was so happy to offer…
Their fingers laced together on the cool surface. Temenos idly ran his thumb along the side of Crick’s hand while his mind wandered back to the party. “I’m surprised the worst part wasn’t that Ort couldn’t attend.”
Crick drooped. Fire chief Kaldena had been adamant about keeping Station 88 fully staffed, understandably, during this season. All the burning of fires in homes to represent the Sacred Flame brought about more calls than usual. Thus the night of the party Crick couldn’t get the time off, but Ort generously swapped shifts with him. Crick would work the following evening, but tonight he had been allowed to party in peace.
Although, it was without his best friend.
Without letting go of Temenos’ hand, Crick tucked his head once more into his folded arms. “You’re right,” he mumbled sadly, “the worst part is that Ort couldn’t make it.”
A feeling Temenos knew well. He was glad for how many could attend, but so many more couldn’t. Hikari was busy with his company and Osvald with his family, leaving their "happy holiday"s relegated to a nice holiday card. Though even worse was Throne. Temenos’ partner in crime was off traveling somewhere and couldn’t make it back in time. He missed her, and her meddling, even if he wouldn’t admit how much her absence hurt.
In their gloom the two wallowed. Emotions gently simmering in the heat of the kotatsu while the chill air of the living room nipped at their cheeks.
Temenos joined Crick in laying his head down, letting it rest on an outstretched arm while the other stayed woven with his. He squeezed at their connection gently, a gesture Crick returned with a small smile. Unspoken, but both knew that the other was grateful they could both make it. How lonesome of a party it would have been without their partner.
“Crick, my dear?” Temenos asked. His tongue ran through his mouth again, heavy and sticky with hot chocolate and whipped cream. It was a delicious treat, yes, but his mouth felt gummed up. “Could you peel me an orange?”
Crick glanced at the bowl sitting at the center of the table and then Temenos’ outstretched hand, close enough to reach it if he uncurled his fingers. “You’re closer to them than I am.”
“I’m far too tired”–Crick snorted–”and you’re so much better at peeling them than me.”
It wasn’t just a flimsy excuse. Despite Temenos’ nimble fingers when it came to art projects for the children, he was all thumbs when it came to anything related to food. His cooking was abysmal, and every time he tried to peel one of the delicate oranges, he ended up eviscerating the poor thing. Crick tried to teach him, once, and got a squirt of stinging juice in his eye for the trouble.
To avoid any further incidents, Crick relented. He sat up and tugged his hand away from Temenos. There was some resistance, as Temenos squeezed the captured fingers in his own, grinning wickedly as he pulled Crick’s hand back towards him. He was not strong enough to resist when Crick pulled both their hands back the other way, and detached his fingers with a kiss to each knuckle. Temenos pulled his arm back and buried his head between folded limbs. For all his playfulness, he was the shyer of the two of them.
Crick left Temenos to burn off his blush and picked an orange from the bowl. There had been a mountain of them at first, but now they were down to less than half. Whatever variety they were was especially delicious, Crick made a mental note to ask Hikari next time they met.
Temenos shifted himself further under the kotatsu, buried up to his waist.
“Almost got it,” Crick answered to Temenos’ unspoken gripe. He was getting good at this, he could nearly peel an entire orange and keep the skin in one large piece. Though not quite this time, he tore it up the middle while getting the last section off.
Crick grabbed a tissue and placed it and the peeled orange near Temenos’ face. He watched his boyfriend’s eyes close and his little smile as he inhaled the scent of citrus. Crick settled back down onto his arm pillows to watch Temenos eat, dreaming of bed soon to come.
After a moment of leaving the orange intact, Temenos started peeling a few segments away from the whole to eat. They were sweet, much like the chocolate, but the acid cut through the cloying feeling stuck to his tongue. They were refreshing, and without the little stringy bits that got caught in his teeth. The perfect midnight snack after everything; his head was even feeling clearer.
He pushed the napkin towards Crick. An offer to share, after Crick so kindly prepared their midnight snack.
“Feed me a piece,” Crick demanded.
Temenos took another one for himself. “I do believe you can reach.”
“I’m
far
too tired.”
Temenos rolled his eyes at Crick’s cheeky sideways grin and picked up a segment. Crick closed his eyes, mouth open and waiting for his treat hand delivered by his dearest. Though he would not get what he wanted, as Temenos let just the tip of the piece touch his lip, then quickly snatched it back before Crick could grab it with his teeth. “Hey!” Crick grumbled.
He tried to look angry, he really did. But somewhere between the sleepiness that was getting to both of them and the alcohol that was slowly wearing off, Crick’s glare looked more like a confused frown. He was pouting, again, so cutely that Temenos burst out laughing.
“Come now, little lamb, come get your treat,” Temenos coaxed. He scooted closer along his side of the kotatsu and unfolded his legs to stretch them across Crick’s lap. “I’ll give you some this time, I promise.” He held out the segment of orange and pressed it to Crick’s lips, now firmly shut.
Prodding, prodding, until Crick suddenly opened his mouth and, carefully, took the piece from Temenos’ fingers. They both smiled, the little stand-off over.
The rest of the orange soon disappeared. Temenos took segments for himself while passing some to Crick. He left his head resting on the tabletop, eyes closed as he waited for the press of another piece of fruit, or occasionally Temenos’ fingers to be kissed or to have lingering juice licked off. No need for words, their mouths were both occupied anyway, as their legs tangled together under the table.
A warm and soft end to their long evening.
Though the long night was starting to wear on them. By the time the orange was done they were both near dozing. “We can just sleep here, right?” Temenos mumbled into his arm.
“We should change and get into bed. I don’t think we can fit all the way under the kotatsu anyway.”
“...think we could.”
Crick shook his head and lightly mussed Temenos’ hair. “Come on, my shepherd, it’s not too far.”
“But it’s cold!” Temenos bunched up his knees and folded himself almost under the table. Just his shoulders and head poked out, enough for him to smugly watch Crick with an “I can stay here just fine” expression on his face.
“Come on.” Crick got out from his side and slipped his hands under Temenos’ arms. He pulled, valiantly, to try to get Temenos out. “You really can’t sleep here, didn’t you see Hikari’s note? If you sleep under a kotatsu a cait will come and steal your heart.”
Were Temenos more sober, he would have quickly countered with the times he had already slept under the kotatsu and the fact that his heart was still right where it belonged. But with Crick so close, and so handsome in the dim light, couldn’t help himself. “That’s fine. You already have my heart, my dear.”
Crick mumbled something though a flushed face and Temenos let himself be pulled out.
Once deposited in the bedroom, Temenos was more amenable to getting ready for bed. They changed and brushed their teeth and soon were tucked in under layers of heavy blankets. The snowfall continued outside, giving them a quiet world to sleep in.
“I suppose I have a living kotatsu right here,” Temenos murmured just before he fell asleep. He snuggled closer to Crick’s always warm body. Hot enough to keep them both comfortable under the insulation of the comforter.
“Good night.” Crick chuckled quietly as he pulled Temenos close.
- - -
- - -
- - -
The rest of the week passed quietly. It snowed heavily each night, as though the heavens themselves were raining down gifts in preparation. An annoyance for most, until the evening before the Sacred Flame Festival arrived, and all were snug within their warm homes.
Although it was a festival in name, the holiday was mostly spent in the home, with parties with friends leading up to the night itself and a large mass held a few days after for the entire city. The evening of was spent with family and loved ones, warm and close.
Which is how Temenos and Crick spent their day. Their cupboards and refrigerator were well stocked with food for the next few days, which allowed the two to spend the afternoon comfortably ensconced under the kotatsu. There were movies to watch, the usual holiday fare where a plucky protagonist met a suave opposite and the two fell in love amid the winter festivities. Temenos pretended to hate the mushy unoriginal plotlines, but Crick loved them so. And in the end, they got Temenos too.
Who could hate holiday true love, really?
The credits rolled on the last movie and Temenos reached for the remote, nearly knocking over his empty mug of tea. Now was a good time, he decided, with the last of the sun dyeing their living room in bright gold before the coming night.
The two glanced at each other, shuffling about
to see who would rise first. Presents were traditionally exchanged the evening of the last day of the festival. A tradition they both planned to follow, but it was their very first Festival together and a light brush of nerves swept across them.
“I…have something to get from the bedroom,” Temenos finally said and rose to his feet. Crick nodded and waited until the moment Temenos left the room before he scrambled to fetch a little package he had left bundled up in his winter coat. When Temenos returned to the living room Crick was already back under the blanket, the rectangular package resting in front of him.
“Oh?” Temenos tucked himself back in and laid his own box on the table next to Crick’s. “I thought you had already given me my Festival present?”
“I wanted you to have something to open tonight. And… I didn’t know if the kotatsu would make it in time, coming all the way from Hinoeuma.” Crick smiled sheepishly, his fingers drumming on the carefully wrapped package. Temenos didn’t know what he could be anxious about. Although he hadn’t quite said it in words, he dearly loved his first present.
And honestly, having Crick all to himself for the Festival’s eve was more than enough present for Temenos. One he certainly hoped to take his time unwrapping later.
Though instead of voicing such thoughts, Temenos pushed his carefully wrapped package towards Crick. “You should go first then, as I’ve already opened something from you.”
With sparkling eyes Crick took up the box and tore into the wrapping. Careful folds and precisely curled ribbon ended up tossed somewhere over his shoulder as his fingers tore all the hard work apart to reveal… “The collector’s edition!” Crick exclaimed. “Temenos! This sold out instantly, how on earth did you get this?”
“I have my resources,” he said with a coy smile. His fingers played with the edge of the blanket, brushing over the texture of the embroidery. Crick looked excited but did that mean… “Do you like it?”
“I love it!” Crick carefully peeled off the last bit of wrapping and took each item out of the ornate box. It had been difficult indeed to acquire the special edition of the sequel to last year’s smash hit. If he hadn’t pulled a few strings with Partitio he would have had to present Crick with the standard disk; what a terrible crime that would have been.
But now Temenos got to watch Crick take out each piece. Murmur appreciatively over the little statue and pore over the included artbook. It wasn’t Temenos’ cup of tea, these electronic games, but Crick relished the challenge and Temenos loved to see him enjoying himself. The stories weren’t bad either, though he sometimes needed Crick to explain just what was supposedly going on.
Crick looked up suddenly to realize Temenos had been quietly watching him for several minutes. “Oh! I’m sorry.” He pushed his present aside and handed his gift to Temenos. “This is for you. Happy Festival.”
A nondescript rectangle, roughly the size, shape, and weight of a book. It was the gift that made the most sense for Temenos, and also the most difficult. He was notoriously picky. Though the priest accepted all novels gifted to him with a smile and well rehearsed “thank you”, he only read those he found worthy of his attention, the books that could steal him away after just a few pages.
But Crick was confident.
He propped one elbow on lacquered wood and tucked his mouth in the adjoined hand. Trying to hide the smile spreading across his face as he patiently waited for Temenos. Each piece of tape delicately detached from the whole brought him closer and closer to a surprise Crick had carefully been keeping secret for weeks now.
When the last piece of ribbon was untied and paper folded out of the way, Temenos gasped. “The latest Albright novel? This was delayed until spring, where did you…?”
Crick dug his face further into his palm, hiding his growing smile. “Do you know why it was delayed?”
“...an issue with the printers, I believe?”
The book series, while written by the author in Montwise, was always printed right there in Flamechurch. At a little printer who had given the author his big break, and the writer wouldn’t let anyone else handle his famous mystery series now. “You’re right,” Crick said with a slow nod, “the print shop unfortunately had a fire and while they’re almost done with repairs and can resume printing soon…”
Temenos’ eyes widened. “Everything they had already printed was destroyed?”
Crick finally lowered his hand, revealing a triumphant smile. “Almost everything! There was one box that survived the smoke and water, and, after a bit of convincing, they kindly let me have one of the books. I’ve been keeping it safe at the firehouse all this time. The smell of smoke should have aired out by now…”
Temenos fell silent, his hands tracing over the embossed cover reverently. He opened the book to a random page, eyes skimming over the text before he quickly snapped it shut. He didn’t want to spoil himself accidentally.
“Thank you,” Temenos said quietly. He set the book aside and reached for Crick’s hands. Warm, despite the cool winter air.
“You’re welcome, and thank you for this as well.” Crick tapped the game box before he took Temenos’ hands within his own. He squeezed chilled fingers tightly, imparting warmth and gratitude. “Seems we both used some connections.”
Temenos smiled. “How fitting, when those connections brought us together.”
Their eyes lingered on each other, gifts forgotten. The whole world forgotten, shrunken down to just the two of them separated a heated table and soft fluffy blanket. Not that they could be kept apart, as Crick leaned over to meet Temenos near the middle. Lips joining for a long kiss, as comforting and sweet as every other. Temenos wrapped his legs around one of Crick’s under the table and edged closer. “Shall we say thank you a little more directly?” he murmured.
“We should– Oh.” Crick’s attention was pulled away to something out the window. “I think it’s time,” he said with a quick glance at the clock. Both hands pointed nearly due north, only a few minutes to midnight.
Crick made to rise, but Temenos gently pushed him down. “I’ve got it.” He went around the room raising the blinds so that the windows were clear, their view of the city unfettered. All around them they could see the other apartments and buildings doing the same, and then the lights from each window winked out, one by one. Temenos turned off their lights as well before he returned and squeezed himself under the kotatsu on the same side as Crick.
“I don’t think we–” Crick protested as Temenos nudged aside his leg and managed to wedge himself in between one table leg and Crick’s thigh. It was a tight fit. And an uncomfortable one, as something small and hard in Temenos pocket dug into Crick’s thigh. He had a momentary idea that Temenos may have just been
very
excited, but the object was too small and too hard. “There’s something in your pocket–” he tried to protest, but Temenos shushed him and turned to the windows.
The only light left came from the moon and stars and the hundreds of oil lamps that lit the streets of Flamechurch. Most cities had updated theirs to electric lights, but Flamechurch had once been and would always be a village of tradition, and this one would not nearly be so impressive with the help of modern technology.
The flames waved their usual red orange for a few more moments until, in the blink of an eye, they all turned blue. As though the Sacred Flame itself had come down from its brazier at the top of the hill to light the city.
If one asked a child about this phenomenon, they would get a matter-of-fact answer that Aelfric had come to gift them all the blessing of the Sacred Flame on this holy night. Those in the know, such as Crick and Temenos themselves, could briefly explain that it was merely a trick of science. With a small adjustment to the pressure and fuel the flame burned blue. Though they would never tell a child that, nor would they readily admit it to themselves that the sight was anything other than pure magic.
One that they enjoyed, just the two of them. Gazing at each other as much as the streets, their light hair turning blue, and the features of their faces sharp. Crick brushed aside a burning lock of Temenos’ hair to see his face better, and caught azure lashes waving to expose sapphire eyes, alight with the same flame. As much as he wanted to kiss Temenos and taste some of that flame, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes.
Nor could Temenos allow the embarrassment of being on the receiving end of such an impassioned gaze force him to turn his head. “You’re beautiful,” Crick whispered, and Temenos shivered despite the warm air gathered around his legs.
He felt the same, looking at Crick like this, but he could hardly find the words. Crick’s skin, with colors layered over like stained glass, looked more holy than anything he had seen in the church. And the devotion Temenos received by look alone was far greater than anything he had felt from a congregation. The gods did not grant Temenos this view, but he thanked them all the same.
Gently Temenos pushed Crick away from the table, just enough that he could turn himself around and settle into Crick’s lap. The blanket was pulled up to his shoulders, so that heated air fanned against his back. It was warm in this middle place, trapped between the heat from Crick’s chest and the warmth of the kotatsu. Perfection.
Crick’s hands settled around his waist like they were home. One found its way under his shirt, idly rubbing along the base of his spine and up Temenos’ back, until he paused. “Temenos, your back is on fire.” Crick’s brows creased, cerulean mountains that valleyed to his eyes.
“And yet your hands are far warmer, my dear,” Temenos murmured. He brought up hands to cup Crick’s face and drag him into a kiss. A deep blue lagoon where their lips and tongues played. He could taste tea, spiced and sweet. Something Temenos craved more of as he pulled himself closer, chest to chest, hips to hips.
Crick groaned into his mouth. A low hum of desire as their needs were made clear by friction. Temenos shifted in place but this time Crick flinched away. Reddened lips, made purple by the flames, twisted into a grimace. “Something in your pocket…” he repeated. Crick felt around pajama covered thighs and found the little object. Something square and hard Temenos had tucked away.
“Ah,” Temenos said, “your other present.”
He fished out the object and presented it to Crick in an upturned palm. There was no wrapping or ribbon, strangely devoid of Temenos’ usual flair. Once Crick took it Temenos leaned back against the table, the plush of the blanket cushioning his back from hard wood.
“What is it?” Crick turned it around in his fingers a few times, but couldn’t figure out the object’s purpose. Temenos stopped his hands and pushed against a corner of the top with a finger. It took some force, but the contraption slid apart at the half, revealing a pale waxy substance. A faint scent drifted in the air between them.
Temenos’ idle arms wrapped around Crick’s back as he watched for a reaction. “It’s solid cologne, go ahead and smell.”
Crick looked once at Temenos, his face a mask of calm, then closed his eyes and brought the tin up to his face. He breathed deep and inhaled a mix of scents.
First was something strong. Incense? The same sort they used at the church, if Crick’s memory served. It blanked out all other smells for a moment, overpowering in its presence before it lightly faded away, as smoke from a blown out candle. In its absence was soap and something he had trouble placing. Something… dry? Crick took another breath and tried again, but he couldn’t put his finger (or nose) on what those smells were.
Though, even without recognition, there was familiarity. He
did
know these smells.
“I know this, but… I can’t place it.” Crick opened his eyes and looked to Temenos for clues.
He smiled. The mysterious little curve of his lips that he liked to use when teasing someone with an answer, so close but just out of reach. By ‘this’ you may actually mean ‘him’?” Temenos offered.
It took another smell and some time watching the dancing flames outside before the realization hit him. “...you?” A smile, a real one that stretched across Temenos’ face, was all the answer Crick needed for that particular question. “But why?” he added by way of another.
Temenos’ gaze dropped. He idly brushed the buttons of Crick’s pajama shirt as he explained. “I know you can’t wear things such as jewelry with your line of work,” he began. Cool fingers brushed under Crick’s chin before they lowered to trace between collarbones and undo the first button. “Yet I wanted some way for you to think of me, between all your lifesaving adventures.”
He paused at the middle button. “I thought this would be… nice. Something for you to smell that isn’t soot and sweat and whatever the terrible amount of gear you must carry smells like. Nothing good, I’d imagine.” He plucked at the shirt hem and another button pulled free. “So I had a custom scent made to smell like me. A little vain perhaps but…” Long eyelashes batted at Crick. “Do you like it?”
Crick was terribly out of sorts. Lithe fingers traced the muscles of his chest while Temenos waited for his reply, distracting him from proper thoughts. Instead his head was full of incense and hazy memories of what Temenos smelled like.
“Let me compare,” Crick said suddenly, before burying his nose into the space between Temenos’ chin and shoulder, deep enough to nuzzle his nose against the back of a slim neck. He inhaled again and found those same familiar smells.
Soap was the strongest on the real thing. The shared shampoo and body wash he had used this morning when he showered. Under that was the incense, how it ever clung to him and his clothes. Then a smell that triggered a memory. Temenos opening an ancient book to a marked page, finger tracing along faded ink. The smell of parchment and dust on cold stone. The smell of scripture and church. These were all what Temenos smelled like, but…
“It’s not the same,” Crick murmured against warm skin.
“It’s not? What’s–ah!” Temenos yelped as the kisses layered down his neck turned to nips. “What’s missing?” he tried again, breaths coming out in gasps as Crick continued unabated.
Another kiss, nearly down his back, before Crick pulled his head free and worked one slim shoulder out of a pajama shirt. “Oranges,” he said simply before he kissed right at the edge of his shoulder’s curve and began working his way in.
“I had this formulated months ago, I hardly knew we’d be inundated with citrus when it came time to gift it to you.” His indignant tone barely held as Crick worked. Now mirroring Temenos’ actions to undo his shirt as well. Temenos’ breath caught with the sudden cold against his chest and the intensity of Crick’s gaze. One hand still traced his spine, keeping him from resting back against the table, while the other worked. Button by button.
Temenos shivered once his chest was exposed. And Crick, dear Crick who didn’t want his love to suffer, gathered Temenos against him. His skin imparted warmth and the reassuring thud of his heartbeat. “Shall we take this to the bedroom,” he whispered in Temenos’ ear. As though trying to make sure the gods couldn’t hear what he was suggesting on such a holy night.
“I’m quite comfortable here though. Your present is doing an admiral job of keeping me warm, despite the weather.” His eyes glanced briefly to the mountains of blue-tinged snow outside. “I don’t believe I’ve thanked you for such a thoughtful gift, is now a good time?”
Crick rearranged the kotatsu blanket over Temenos’ shoulders, careful not to move him away from their shared body heat. “Knowing you like it is enough. Honestly I… Much like your gift, I wanted to make sure you would have something to keep you warm when I’m at work. I know this season is tough for you…”
Temenos snickered against his chest. “I don't keep you around just to be my personal heater, you know.”
“I know but… I want to give you everything.”
Pale hands reached up to take Crick’s cheeks for themselves. Thumbs brushing away stray hairs as Temenos tilted Crick to look him in the eye. Sapphire to aquamarine. “Everything I want is you,” Temenos murmured. And with that sentiment, sweeter than cake and hot cocoa, and all the most wonderful presents that could be given, Crick sealed over Temenos’ lips with a kiss.
They spoke without words for a while. Hands wandering and bodies close, hair ruffled and pulled. Until they took a moment to breathe. Crick kissed along Temenos’ jaw before he dipped down to his pulse point again and inhaled once more. Another fragrance arose, born of the two of them and the heat of their passion. Sweat and pheromones that Crick couldn’t resist commenting on. “There’s something else missing from your gift,” he added. Mind reeling.
“Mmm…” Temenos took his time replying, enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I didn’t want you to get too distracted at work?” Crick’s laugh vibrated along his skin.
Crick moved lower, thumbs hooking along a tempting waistband. “Then I’ll get my fill now,” he teased and Temenos could feel his smile, quickly replaced by tongue lapping at a sensitive part of him and driving away further quips. They dove into each other and remained there, long after the lamps faded back to their usual fire, enjoying the company and warmth.
And when the winter sun rose the next morning, they were asleep. Curled together under the kotatsu. Hearts unstolen.