all the ingredients for stuffing and green bean casserole. I decided it was the least I could do to let you rest while I cooked." Garnet smiled up at Wes with pink-tinged cheeks. "I hope you don't mind?"
Wes shook his head. "Of course not." Sure, he experienced another wave of surrealism at the fact that an actual Christmas elf was cooking him dinner, but Wes was strangely at ease with the entire situation. "Anything I can do to help?"
Garnet waved a dismissive hand. "Thank you, but there's no need. I've got it covered."
"If you're sure…"
"Completely. Everything will be ready soon. Why don't you go have a shower?"
"Okay." Bemused, Wes let himself be shooed from his own kitchen. He might have put up more of a fight, but grogginess lingered in his head, and a hot shower sounded like the perfect solution to clear away the fog.
Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of the bathtub and used his damp towel to swipe steam from the mirror. He took a long look at himself and decided a shave was in order. Normally he didn't bother while at the cabin. There was no one around to see him but the dogs. Tonight felt worth the effort. It was Christmas Day, and for the first time in forever, he wouldn't be alone.
He made quick work of shaving. Without the beard, the cleft in his chin stood out prominently, and he looked younger, baby-faced. As usual, his dark hair was short to tame its inclination to curl, but his brown eyes, described by more than one person in the past as 'intense', shone with a light he didn't see in them very often.
If he had to give it a name, he'd call it happiness. And wasn't that a surprise? Not that Wes was entirely dissatisfied with his life. He knew he had it a lot better than some people. His various foster parents, while apathetic at most, had never been cruel. And now, at only twenty-three, he owned two houses, a successful business, and didn't want for money. He even had a tiny circle of friends, although none of them were especially close.
What did it matter if sometimes he lamented the lack of a romantic partner? There were worse things than being single. He could ignore the moments when he looked at the empty chair across from him at dinner and felt like the weight of his loneliness might break his back.
Wes shoved those thoughts aside. Today, at least, he had a companion. Someone who wanted Wes to the point that he'd traveled countless miles just to try to be at his side. It would be a pity to waste it moping.
Chapter Three
Cooking was one of Garnet's few skills outside of the toy workshop. His fondest childhood memories were of the evenings he spent helping his mother make supper in their cozy, yellow kitchen. Before leaving the North Pole yesterday, he'd made sure to tuck her recipe box into his satchel. It was her green bean casserole and stuffing he'd prepared for Wes tonight, and though he might not be the neatest cook or have much of an eye for presentation, he knew from experience the food would be delicious. He only hoped Wes would enjoy it.
Wes strolled into the kitchen just as Garnet pulled the rolls from the oven. "Should I set the table?"
Garnet stared. He'd seen Wes clean-shaven before, of course, but usually Wes wore a light beard, more scruff than anything. Without the facial hair, he reminded Garnet of the boy he'd once been, and that recollection sent a deep pang through Garnet's chest.
Once, for a brief period in time, Garnet had been the larger of the two of them. He'd yearned to hide and protect Wes. Now, at five-four—freakishly tall by elf standards—next to Wes, Garnet felt pocket-sized. He couldn't shelter Wes's body the way he'd longed to in the past, but Wes's heart, that he would defend with his life if given half a chance.
"Garnet?"
Blinking, Garnet came out of his trance. Wes eyed him curiously, his brows raised.
Garnet remembered Wes's question and flushed. "That would be lovely, thank you. Everything is ready now. I just have to carve the turkey."
"I can do
Wes shook his head. "Of course not." Sure, he experienced another wave of surrealism at the fact that an actual Christmas elf was cooking him dinner, but Wes was strangely at ease with the entire situation. "Anything I can do to help?"
Garnet waved a dismissive hand. "Thank you, but there's no need. I've got it covered."
"If you're sure…"
"Completely. Everything will be ready soon. Why don't you go have a shower?"
"Okay." Bemused, Wes let himself be shooed from his own kitchen. He might have put up more of a fight, but grogginess lingered in his head, and a hot shower sounded like the perfect solution to clear away the fog.
Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of the bathtub and used his damp towel to swipe steam from the mirror. He took a long look at himself and decided a shave was in order. Normally he didn't bother while at the cabin. There was no one around to see him but the dogs. Tonight felt worth the effort. It was Christmas Day, and for the first time in forever, he wouldn't be alone.
He made quick work of shaving. Without the beard, the cleft in his chin stood out prominently, and he looked younger, baby-faced. As usual, his dark hair was short to tame its inclination to curl, but his brown eyes, described by more than one person in the past as 'intense', shone with a light he didn't see in them very often.
If he had to give it a name, he'd call it happiness. And wasn't that a surprise? Not that Wes was entirely dissatisfied with his life. He knew he had it a lot better than some people. His various foster parents, while apathetic at most, had never been cruel. And now, at only twenty-three, he owned two houses, a successful business, and didn't want for money. He even had a tiny circle of friends, although none of them were especially close.
What did it matter if sometimes he lamented the lack of a romantic partner? There were worse things than being single. He could ignore the moments when he looked at the empty chair across from him at dinner and felt like the weight of his loneliness might break his back.
Wes shoved those thoughts aside. Today, at least, he had a companion. Someone who wanted Wes to the point that he'd traveled countless miles just to try to be at his side. It would be a pity to waste it moping.
Chapter Three
Cooking was one of Garnet's few skills outside of the toy workshop. His fondest childhood memories were of the evenings he spent helping his mother make supper in their cozy, yellow kitchen. Before leaving the North Pole yesterday, he'd made sure to tuck her recipe box into his satchel. It was her green bean casserole and stuffing he'd prepared for Wes tonight, and though he might not be the neatest cook or have much of an eye for presentation, he knew from experience the food would be delicious. He only hoped Wes would enjoy it.
Wes strolled into the kitchen just as Garnet pulled the rolls from the oven. "Should I set the table?"
Garnet stared. He'd seen Wes clean-shaven before, of course, but usually Wes wore a light beard, more scruff than anything. Without the facial hair, he reminded Garnet of the boy he'd once been, and that recollection sent a deep pang through Garnet's chest.
Once, for a brief period in time, Garnet had been the larger of the two of them. He'd yearned to hide and protect Wes. Now, at five-four—freakishly tall by elf standards—next to Wes, Garnet felt pocket-sized. He couldn't shelter Wes's body the way he'd longed to in the past, but Wes's heart, that he would defend with his life if given half a chance.
"Garnet?"
Blinking, Garnet came out of his trance. Wes eyed him curiously, his brows raised.
Garnet remembered Wes's question and flushed. "That would be lovely, thank you. Everything is ready now. I just have to carve the turkey."
"I can do
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