Page 18 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

The elevator stops at James’s floor, and I get off with him, pulling him into the nearby restroom.

“Listen, if anyone says anything, set them straight. This wasnotArt’s idea. Art and I were both totally blindsided by this, and in fact Frank was really nasty to Art about the whole thing. If anything, he’d probably have a solid case to take to HR. He was basically told if he didn’t hang out with me and get some social skills that he’d get fired, which is kind of bullshit. And I probably should have done something, but… Well, I like hanging out with Art.” I can’t help the blush that invades my face at that admission.

James smacks me in the arm, grinning. “Aw, Dean, I need some details!”

I end up blushing even more, which just makes him cackle in glee.

I grab his arm again. “I’m serious, James.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, laughter dying down. “Look, I’ll set it straight with anyone I talk to, but who knows if someone already complained to HR.”

“Shit,” I groan. “I do not need this complication.”

“Try not to worry, man. I’m sure it’ll be ok. You’ll get it sorted out,” James assures me.

I nod and breathe out, trying to calm down. Now is not the time to get fired up over this. Both James and I have to get working before we’re late.

We say our goodbyes, and I head out of the bathroom and up to my floor, trying to think clearly. How did a rumor like that even get started? Unfortunately, the list of people who might bad mouth Art is probably not the shortest. He’s cute and crazy intelligent, and I’m sure there’s quite a bit of jealousy over both of those things. I think he’s one of the higher paid and more important scientists in the building. Add in his general awkwardness, and I can bet that he’s offended someone without meaning to.

The main problem, however, is that it makes hanging out a little trickier. I don’t want people talking badly about Art behind his back, and I sure as hell don’t want him getting in trouble with HR, but I really do want to hang out more with him. Iwantto introduce him to all the cheesy human holiday traditions. I had such a good time ice skating and watching a movie with him. I want to go Christmas shopping, make Christmas cookies, and decorate a tree with him. I get a mental image of Art with a Santa hat on and an ornament hanging from every tentacle, and I can barely stifle my laughter.

And when it comes time for the holiday party, I want to go with him. Never mind that it’s totally odd that a cryptid company has a holiday party, and that I’ve never seen Art attend once. I want to be his first time for a lot of things, and I smile at that thought as I swipe my way into the lab. Then I hear the crash.

I look over to see a beaker broken on the floor right beside Art’s clothes floating in mid-air. Art appears to be nowhere in sight, and I’m amazed again at how good his camouflage is.

“Morning, Art!” I say, trying to set a cheery tone.

He doesn’t answer, and I walk over and start picking up the pieces of broken beaker, asking, “Do you want me to work on sample Z25 today, or did you have something else in mind?” Maybe talking about work will make him less nervous.

Art goes back to his normal color, and his tentacle reaches down to stop my hand from grabbing another piece of beaker. I look up, but he avoids my gaze and gives his tentacle a disgruntled look. It very reluctantly unpeels from my arm.

Ok, so maybe talking about work will not solve the problem, since now he kind of looks like I contaminated his most promising lab specimen. I have to remind myself that I cannot kiss him in the lab. Not a good idea. So I smile instead, and I touch his face gently so that he looks at me.

“Hey, I had a really good time last night, and I hope we can go out again soon,” I say.

Art breathes out a sigh. “I had a very enjoyable time as well, Dean Miller. I would like to go out with you again, although I do not think I would like to be on frozen water.”

I chuckle at that. “Yeah, no more ice skating,” I agree. I hesitate, then I figure I may as well just go for it. Art is nothing if not direct, after all. “Art, would you like to date me?”

“Date you?” he asks.

I’m not sure if he’s confused by the term or the idea of dating me. “Yeah. We would continue to go out, but rather than going out as coworkers or friends, we’d be boyfriends. We would talk on the phone and go out regularly outside of work.”

“Like mates?” Art asks, looking slightly excited.

“I mean, maybe? Dating is like trying out a mate, I guess. That’s what humans do. We try out mates to see if it will work long term, and if it doesn’t, that’s ok,” I add. “I like you. I’d like to date you and be your boyfriend, if you’d like that too. I want to hang out with you because Iwantto, not because Frank told mewe have to. And it’s totally ok if you don’t feel the same way, but I figured we should talk about it.”

Art is staring at me, and I’m not sure what’s going through his head. Finally, he answers, “Yes, I would like to be your trial mate, Dean Miller. What must I do in this trial mating scenario? Is there a manual?”

“No, no manual. We kind of talk about it and decide for ourselves how we want things to go. Maybe we could do that over dinner tonight?” I ask. We really should get to work, and at some point I should probably tell him about the rumor and HR, but I don’t think now is a good time. I probably gave him enough to think about.

“Yes, dinner would be an appropriate place to have that conversation, and I would enjoy having another meal with you, Dean Miller,” Art answers.

“Good,” I say, smiling. I reach down to grab the broken beaker pieces again, but Art’s tentacles stop me. Fuck, he’s hot, and working with him might be harder than I imagined.

“You might cut yourself. I will pick these up. You are correct that sample Z25 probably needs attention first,” Art comments.

“Ok,” I say, and it’s my turn to blush, because his tentacles definitely make me think dirty thoughts.

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