Casper Gets His Wish (5 page)

–

The invitation arrived in the middle of November, probably to mock Casper for wishing for something to look forward to. The Big Guy had a way of knowing everyone’s secret desires, and had decided to give Casper two weeks to dread something.

Or he hadn’t, and the other elves had planned this nonsense as always, but the Big Guy would be there, and that was practically the same thing. Because even if he didn’t plan it, the Big Guy had a way of knowing things.

The Employee Appreciation and Yuletide Dinner was not an event Casper was fond of. He enjoyed wearing his ridiculously expensive but so butter soft and well-tailored it was worth it tuxedo, yes, but that was it. The rest of the evening was always about feeling invisible and antsy, watching artists, carpenters, and software techs get their awards, while waiting for food that came too late to prevent him from getting drunk off the eggnog he’d be sipping for hours to keep the boredom and hunger at bay.

This time was no different, except that instead of sipping the eggnog, he found himself gulping it down. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t the sequined dresses or ill-fitting rented tuxes, although looking at those did make his soul hurt. It wasn’t that he had a front row seat to the boring display—figuratively, as they weren’t actual rows, and he was seated at a table close to the dais. It wasn’t even that he was surrounded by the elves from Lists and Judgment though they could be, well, a little judgmental.

He thought, perhaps, probably, it was because this year he had a seat that put him directly in line to witness the spectacle that Hollyberry’s people were making of themselves. They had outdone themselves this year, it was true, and gotten quite a bit of recognition from the Big Guy, but at some point they’d started mixing sparkling hard cider with their nog and were being… quite exuberant. Especially Dmitri himself, who was almost respectable looking in his tuxedo, which wasn’t ripped, and though not as well made as Casper’s, fit him
quite
well. His bow tie was practically another collar. His hair was magical, like neon against the stark black and white. Dmitri wanted to touch it, maybe smear his eyeliner, and then rumple his tasteful, discreet tuxedo until his tattoos showed.

He took his mug and tipped it back because those kinds of thoughts required more to drink. Then he refilled it. It wasn’t the first time. The Lists people weren’t happy about that. Casper smiled at them. Irking them was more entertaining than listening to same speeches over and over again.
Appreciate… hard work… blah blah… Big Day… blah blah blah
.

As invisible as this night made
him
feel, it wasn’t as bad as it must have been for the elves in Weights and Measures, who tended to not be very well liked. Most of them were decent enough, if stuffy. Casper had even had a brief fling with Arkady Sugarplums, though it hadn’t lasted. He was almost ready to reconsider it however, out of boredom and desperation and the faint hope he’d be able to drive a green-haired elf from his late night thoughts, and twisted to attempt a rather tipsy leer, which was returned after a startled moment, until Arkady glanced out into the rest of the hall and then quickly turned away from him.

Casper sighed. Even the Lists and Judgment elves didn’t want him. He rubbed at his very, very warm face and took another long drink. He ought to stop; he was going to wake up hungover and he still had to get the end of the month reports in. More than that, he was going to wrinkle his tux, which was being wasted if no one would look at him in it.

If anyone had ever asked him what he wanted in his stocking, he would have said a way to opt out of this crap every year. Or… He looked over again, watching the creative team drunkenly high fiving their boss and… and was that a grope?

Casper forgot his secret wish list and focused on the good cheer and merry measure in front of him. There was no need for them to repeat their famous hijinks from a few years ago, which had involved too much mistletoe and… well, Casper would never think of a one horse sleigh the same way again.

The department had won another award it seemed. Not a surprise. They deserved it, but they didn’t exist in a vacuum. They’d earned it on the backs of the other departments, even maintenance. The superstars could at least have said thanks, or admit office drudgery was hard work that not everyone could do.

He heard Dmitri’s voice as he had the thought, not sure that it wasn’t a nog-created delusion. But he searched out Dmitri in the crowd and found him. Even surrounded by eager elves pressing closer, his voice carried. 

“…Of course we’d be nothing without our support services.” He wasn’t even talking to Casper, couldn’t know he could hear him, but Casper straightened, frowning at the quick beat of his heart in his ears that didn’t let him catch the rest of what Dmitri said.

He nearly glanced at the Big Guy, but didn’t dare; he didn’t
want
to know if his wishes had been read, and at the moment he couldn’t take his eyes off Dmitri anyway. Then the hysterical laughter from the rest of Gift Development sank in, and Casper felt himself flushing and swaying to his feet.

“You wouldn’t even
have
a department if it weren’t for us fudging pencil pushers and bean counters and desk jockeys and whatever else you fudging want to call us!” he spat out, and then stopped in horror. Had he shouted that? Was the Big Guy looking at him? Was he
swearing
?

There was a small sound, like an aborted attempt at applause. And then someone sneered, not far away. “Yeah, right.”

“But Casper’s right,” Dmitri started, only to stop when Casper turned to him. He shut up, but there was a familiar light in his eyes. “I mean Mr. Silverbell,” Dmitri finished, nearly smirking, and an elf like him should never put on a tux like that. It was statement was what it was, a statement just for Casper, the one person here with taste enough to appreciate it.

So he liked to watch things explode, did he? Casper thought, forgetting all about whether or not he was shouting or swearing. He felt like could get spit fire. He finished his nog in one swallow and slammed the mug down but it did nothing to quench the flames. The hall might have gone quiet; Casper didn’t care as he waved at his table, and the tables of the other “support services.”

“I–
we
—don’t need your damn, fudging praise, Hollyberry. We’ve managed fine without you just fine so far. For centuries even. And we can keep on like that indefi… indefinitely.” Not that he wanted to. He tugged at his bowtie, pulled it loose, popped a button. Dmitri’s breath actually hitched.

Someone else gasped, like Casper had gone too far with his language. It made him want to swear again. Something really un-elf-like. Something
human
. Something Dmitri might appreciate.

Casper looked right at him and licked his lips while he thought of
exactly
what he might say and what Dmitri would say in return.

Then there was a pointed cough from the dais.

Casper stopped, swallowed, and realized he might be sick, right there, in front of everyone. With embarrassingly slow and clumsy steps, he backed up, leaving the room in its rather stunned silence and heading out into the cold to clear his head.

The dim light and freezing air were breathtaking, but the borealis was glorious and shimmering above him, making the snow indistinguishable from ivory frosting. He got out the door and moved to the side, leaning with his forehead against the wall.

After a second he straightened his tux. No matter how drunk he was, his beautiful tuxedo didn’t deserve wrinkles.

“I had a feeling that you’d let loose like that. Though I pictured a bigger explosion.”

Dmitri. Of course he had pictured more, with his boundless imagination.

Casper closed his eyes. “Go away. Go bask in your glory. Leave me here to die in agony.”

“Dramatic aren’t you?” Dmitri seemed pleased. Casper frowned against the wall. “How much nog have you had, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Suddenly the mention of eggnog made Casper want to throw up. “Enough.” But he cracked one eye, then slid around to put his back to the wall before he opened the other eye.

Dmitri was close. “Listen. I’m sorry about that in there. We, most of us, really do appreciate the work you do.”

“I’m sure.” Casper didn’t bother with wrinkles this time as he stepped forward. “That’s why you’ve forced me to come down to your office every month for the past ten years. Pull the other one, Mr. Hollyberry.”

He got yet another odd look for that one. He was getting sick of those too. But Dmitri took another small step closer then stopped to lean against the wall. His hands were on either side of Casper.

“I thought you enjoyed that as much as I did. You
seemed
like you did, though I admit I don’t know Pole elves well, and this has gone on longer than I’d thought it would.”

“You…you
enjoyed
…?” Casper was willing to admit he’d had too much to drink because that made no sense. “You’ve been driving me—damn it, stand up straight! Could you fudging
act
like you’ve reached a quarter of a millennia, please?”

Dmitri’s eyes narrowed, but then he glanced up, and, shaking his head, smiled.

Casper had about half a second to see Dmitri getting closer, that his eyes were twinkling and his lips were still curving up, and then Dmitri’s mouth was on his, and his hands were settling gently on Casper’s face to hold him still though Casper wasn’t moving. Of course he wasn’t moving, except to slide forward, and then he was shivering at the combination of hot and cold, and cashmere, because the
punk
had chosen luxury fabric, cashmere, there was cashmere against his hands. And beneath that was Dmitri Hollyberry. Dmitri, who was kissing him and breathing hard and pausing to say his name before kissing him again.

They were body to body, the space between them burning in defiance of the chill outside. Casper made a sound. He would have been embarrassed if he’d stopped to think about it. He was sure of that at least, but only that, because then Dmitri licked his mouth open and pressed him back into the doorjamb and his kiss this time was not so gentle. The building, their air, smelled like sugar and ginger, spicy, but no amount of spice could make it as hot as the thigh pressing between his, and Casper made that sound again as he slid his hands up to Dmitri’s shoulders so he could stay on his feet. He thought it was a plea.

Dmitri groaned, a small, aroused noise that took a second to register because it was muffled against Casper’s lips, because the slide of his tongue was surprisingly patient, almost tortuously so.

Fudge that.

Casper slid his hands up to that bow tie that wasn’t that collar and tugged insistently, nearly dying when he was immediately pushed back by his lapels against hard gingerbread and kissed until his mouth felt numb, until he couldn’t breathe, and Dmitri was gasping his name against his mouth, pulling in air only to kiss him again.

“Casper. Casper. Look at you,” Dmitri murmured in a familiar, rasping voice, full of wonder and beauty bright.

When Casper could see the Northern Lights even with his eyes closed, when he was hard and his secret wish wasn’t so secret, he slid his mouth away to pant against Dmitri’s rosy cheek. He curled his fingers, realizing as he did, too late, that they were currently in the process of exploring the front of Dmitri’s tuxedo pants.

It was almost frightening how he wasn’t sure exactly when that had happened, how he wasn’t sure of anything anymore but where Dmitri was touching him.

He held still for another moment, but there was only heavy breathing from Dmitri, so he pulled his hand away, resolutely ignoring the burning outline imprinted on his palm and how Dmitri lowered his head to rest it against his shoulder.

“What was that?” Casper asked at last, not quite prepared for how Dmitri straightened when he spoke.

“If you can’t tell, Casper, you’ve been alone in that office too long.”

Casper immediately bristled, feeling himself go utterly cold inside when Dmitri grinned and pointed up. Up, to where a sprig of mistletoe had been placed outside the door.