Naughty Elf: Humbug (Santa’s Naughty Elf Mates)

Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

H umbug woke up Christmas morning, warm and snug in a huge bed, hemmed in on both sides by big bodies. One was very hairy and kind of drooly. The other was hot, smooth, and hard.

Very hard in one place where Bax’s cock prodded his hip.

Well, jingle all the way.

“You need to go out, buddy?” he asked Guffy softly.

Woof.

“Okay, come on.” He rolled out of bed reluctantly, but he wanted to see what he could make for breakfast. Obviously Bax at least knew how to assemble food. He’d deduced that from the turkey breast and stuffing mix, as well as the bag of potatoes instead of instant mashed mix or refrigerator ones.

If there was flour, eggs, and milk, he could whip up something. His cousin Taffy was a chef for Santa number…something. He had no idea which.

After he let Guffy out into the pristine, silent dawn, snow everywhere, he headed back to the living room to look at the mantel and the tree. Sure enough, there was another two stockings hanging, one labeled Sir Guffy, one Humbug. And there were now five more presents under the tree. One to Guffy, one for him, and three for Bax. All neatly labeled from Santa.

Undoubtedly, his stocking and gift would be coal.

The kitchen yielded flour, sugar, yeast, eggs, and milk, so he decided to go for cinnamon rolls. The spices were in a well-organized cabinet, and they were all within their expiration date.

Once he got the rolls made up and rested, then filled and rolled for the rise time, he washed up, let Guffy back in, then made his way back to the bedroom, slipping into bed and putting his cold feet on Bax.

“Ack.”

“Morning,” Humbug murmured. “I let your dog out.”

“Did you bring him back in?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know if I was supposed to towel him off, but he wasn’t super wet.”

“No, he’ll roll around on his bed in the living room. He has a towel in there.”

“Well trained as well as polite to elves,” Humbug said.

“Still with the elf thing?” Bax asked, sliding a hand down his back.

“Call your mom,” he said. “I started cinnamon rolls.”

“No shit?”

“Not even a little. We have an hour until the rolls are ready to put in the oven. Whatever should we do?”

Bax laughed. “I can think of a few things. What time is it?”

“Uh, early?” He looked at the clock by the bed. “Six thirty.”

“My mom will call at eight. So…”

“So, hello.” He took the kiss he wanted, and things got pretty gymnastic and sweaty for a nice long while. So much that they fogged up the windows in the bedroom.

An hour later, the rolls were in the oven, smelling amazing, and Bax stood in the living room, looking at the mantel and the Christmas tree.

“Did you bring me presents?” Bax asked, his voice toneless.

“Nope. Santa came while we were sleeping. The big candy-cane dick.”

That had Bax’s gaze cutting to him in disbelief. “Tell me how you really feel, Humbug.”

“Okay. Why did I have to get Santa fifteen? Why not five? Or eight? They both have nice wives and are too busy to stick their noses in an elf’s private life or hold a grudge because a guy has ideas.”

Bax opened his mouth, but then his phone rang, and he pulled it out of his robe pocket. He sighed, then clicked it to answer. “Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas. How’s Vermont?”

Bax strained to hear the woman on the other end, but he could just barely hear the murmur of her voice. And when he closed his eyes to sharpen his other senses, Guffy licked his fingers, making him laugh out loud.

“Huh? No, I have a friend staying over. I have friends. No, it is not my tattoo artist.” When Humbug stared, Bax shrugged. “Oh, did he? That’s nice. Another ring is always handy. Uh-huh. Look, Mom, can I ask you a question?”

Oh. Here it went.

“Yeah. It’s gonna sound weird.” Bax stared at him. “Is there a reason I’m an only child? Well, sure. I know you told me how hard it was to—uh-huh. And I was sickly, huh?”

Bingo. Humbug knew it! Bax was a changeling. The sickly human had been taken away to heal up in the land of summer or wherever, and big old Bax, who would be a mountain in the elf world, was sent to the human realm to make art and never know why he wasn’t fitting in.

“Right. No, I just read this book about this kid who was a changeling. Have you ever heard of that? You did? Wild. I love you too, Mom. No, I haven’t opened them yet. I’ll text when I do. Oh, you’re welcome. I’m glad you like it. Okay. I love you too. Bye.”

Humbug waited, tapping his foot.

“What?” Bax asked, shoulders hunching.

“What did she say?”

“That she used to joke with my dad about me being a changeling. I was sickly when I was born, and then two months later, I was this hale, hearty, good eater. She just figured they misdiagnosed me.”

“Nope.” He chortled, going to pour coffee when the pot dinged, signaling it was done brewing. “Changeling.”

“Stop it. Most infant birth conditions fade in a couple of months. Jaundice. Colic. Hydrocele.”

“What is that last one?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Water on the balls.”

“Uh…”

“I saw it on a medical show once. I can’t sleep at night sometimes.”

“That’s because you come from subterranean stock.”

“Stop it. I need to open my mom’s presents.”

“Well, let’s get coffee.” He poured them both a cup. “How do you want yours?”

“With hot chocolate mix in it.”

His eyes widened. “You can do that?”

“What? You’re supposedly Santa’s right-hand man.”

“No. That’s Ed.” He sighed. “I never got as far as supervisor.”

“That’s—” Bax closed his eyes for a moment. “You know, sooner or later, you’re going to have to tell me who you are.”

“I told you. Gavin Humbug McPherson.” Humbug pulled down the cocoa mix he’d seen when he’d found the coffee.

“Right, but what’s your real story?”

Humbug sighed. Sooner or later, Bax would figure out he wasn’t a liar. “I told you. Box. Jolly old elf. Bad elf.” He pointed at his own chest. “Presents.”

“Okay. But?—”

“Your mom backed me up.”

Bax’s expression went skeptical. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Come on.” He stirred in just enough cocoa to sweeten the coffee. “Presents.”

They settled in on the floor of the living room with Guffy, the gas log blazing merrily. Bax stole glances at him as he distributed presents. He opened his stocking, peering in.

Humbug sighed. Black jellybeans labeled “Coal”. Holly leaves, he hated licorice.

“Did you bring that with you?”

“Trust me, I would never give me black licorice.” He stuffed it back in the stocking before Guffy tried to eat it.

“Huh.” Eyes widening, Bax pulled a little gift out of his stocking. “From Santa?”

“I bet it’s not coal. Open it.”

Bax did, staring at the little glass figurine of a raven he pulled out.

“Neat! It’s like your tattoo.”

“Yeah.” Bax glanced back and forth between the figurine and him.

“So what did your mom get you?” Curiosity drove him to see what kind of gifts Baxter’s mom got her kid.

“Um…” Bax set the bird aside and grabbed the first gift from his mom. He tore it open. “Socks.”

Humbug winced. “Well, it is cold here.”

“True enough.”

The next gift yielded pajamas, and the third was a hand-knitted hat that had ear flaps and an elfy-style tail.

“Now that’s cute,” Humbug said.

“It’s the third one this year. You want it?” Bax offered it over.

“I do.” He plopped it on his head. Guffy stood and immediately started nibbling on the pom-pom at the end of the tail.

“Guffy, quit it.” He pulled the tail over his shoulder.

“So, uh, what did Santa bring you?” Bax peered at the one gift that had been under the tree for him.

“Probably underwear.” That was what bad elves got, besides coal.

“Let’s see.”

He ripped off the wrapping paper, tilting his head. Huh.

“What is it?”

“A day planner.” Why on earth had Santa sent him a calendar book? Weird. And pens. That was a nice touch. A set of multicolored gel pens.

“You like planners?”

“Not really. I’m not very organized.” So what did this mean? He flipped it open, looking through, and on the December monthly page, the one twelve months in, Santa had circled Christmas day in red.

His deadline.

Nice.

“It’s a joke, I think.”

“Hmm.”

He grinned, trying to force some cheer on them. Opening presents was meant to be fun. “How about we see what he brought Guffy?”

“Good idea.” Bax opened the stocking, finding a bag of treats and a bandana. The wrapped gift yielded a giant stuffed monkey that unrolled and seemed to expand. Guffy pounced on it right away, the squeaker going to town.

“He likes it,” Humbug said, watching him play.

“He loves monkeys.” There was a note in Baxter’s voice that sent off little warning bells for Humbug, but he ignored it.

“Okay, you should open your last ones.”

“Sure.” Baxter still stared at him. Then he seemed to break the moment and he opened the “Santa” gifts. One was a fluffy scarf with some kind of cartoon character on it. The second was a smart watch band. And the third looked to be some sort of…pliers.

That left Bax staring at them in his hands.

Finally, he looked up at Humbug, his wild gray eyes gone icy clear. “Are you stalking me? Is that what this is? You’re a stalker?”

“What?” The accusation caught him flat-footed.

“You’re stalking me. How else did you know Guffy likes monkeys and that I love Totoro and ravens and that I broke my good jewelry pliers?” Bax’s voice rose with each word, causing Guffy to abandon his monkey and come lick his face.

“I didn’t know any of that.”

“Bullshit! You show up at my house with presents for me that you’d have to be watching me to get, and you pretend to be an elf from Santaland and tell me I’m a fucking changeling? That’s deranged.” Bax scrambled to standing. “You need to get out.”

He sat right where he was. It made sense without context for sure. “I am not a stalker. I had never seen you until last night.”

Those huge fists balled up, and he realized that even Baxter’s fingers and hands were tattooed. Not with words, but with vines and berries and tiny birds.

“I want you to get out.” Baxter’s tone strained under the weight of anger.

“No. You don’t. I’m not a stalker. I’m an elf, like you. And Santa sent me.”

“That’s nuts. And I got carried away last night, but?—”

“But nothing. Look, I’m a crappy elf. I have a big mouth and I had big ideas and I’m being punished. But you got me as a present, so you must be a very good boy.”

Bax’s cheeks darkened. “You little shit—” He started forward, clearly intent on mayhem.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He held up a finger, which caused a shower of golden sparkles, causing Bax to stop in his tracks. And then sneeze.

“What the hell?”

Guffy leaped into the air, barking and chasing the little sparks of magic.

“I am not above using what I have to keep you from doing violence on me.”

“What you have?” Bax sneezed again.

The timer on the oven went off, and he uncurled from the floor, rising. He grinned at the confusion in Bax’s expression. “That will be my rolls. Time for breakfast!”

And he sailed off to the kitchen, his grin widening when he heard Bax sneeze one more time. Silly cave elf. Santa’s elves were mostly from the Norse tradition.

Their magic could be incredibly like an allergy when they wanted it to be.