Page 38 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

“Thank you. Although I’m sure your feelings are partially a natural response to your lower cortisol levels and the rush of endorphins you experienced.”

I chuckle and snuggle even closer. “Stay the weekend,” I tell Art. “We’ll watch Christmas movies and eat snacks and snuggle and do all sorts of endorphin raising activities.”

“I would like that, Dean Miller,” Art murmurs, his voice soft.

I’d like to ask Art to stay forever, not just the weekend, but logically I know there isn’t any rush. We have plenty of time for those kinds of conversations. I smile as his breathing evens out, and I let myself drift off wrapped up in his warmth.

Dean

The weekend flies by in a blur of cuddles, sex, and Christmas spirit. We go shopping for Christmas presents on Saturday, and Art totally gets into the spirit, even buying a few decorations for his apartment. We stop off at Art’s so he can pick up some more clothes, and we have a long soak in his tub (and some more hot tentacle sex, of course).

Sunday, we lounge around and watch Christmas movies, and Art’s commentary has me laughing nonstop. I can tell he’s amused at the movies despite his incredulity over the whole Santa Claus thing. We end up doing laundry and going grocery shopping together for the week, and even that’s fun with Art (and his tentacles come in super handy when it comes to folding laundry—which he of course does meticulously).

Somehow I manage not to think about Frank all weekend, but when we wake up Monday morning to my alarm, that’s the first thing that pops into my head. I breathe a heavy sigh out as I shut the alarm off, wondering if I can just call out for the day.

“What is wrong, Dean Miller?” Art asks, his tentacles pulling me back into a snuggle.

“I’m just dreading today. I’m not sure what Frank has in store for me.”

Art is quiet for a moment, and then he murmurs sadly, “I am very sorry that you are worried about your job because of me.”

I turn around and kiss him, getting lost in the press of our lips and the warmth of him surrounding me. My tongue gently teases at his lips, and we end up kissing deeply, our mouths slanting against one another.

I eventually pull back and look into Art’s eyes. “I’m not sorry. I would defend you against that asshole again in a minute. He shouldn’t treat you that way. It isn’t okay. And if it means I lose my job because I did what was right, well, that makes it worth it. My biggest regret will be that I won’t get to see you every day at work.”

“Dean Miller,” Art whispers, “I am not worth losing your job?—”

I don’t even let him finish. “You are worth everything, Art. I love you. I love being with you and working with you. You’re fucking brilliant, and your mind amazes me. More than that, you’re funny, and you’re sweet, and you’re kind. You really care about our work and about people, even if you don’t always show it how people expect you to. I love being with you, talking with you, even just doing freaking laundry with you. I would stand up for you to anyone, because I love you, Art.”

Art stares at me, and I can’t tell if it’s wonder or disbelief in his face, but his tentacles are suctioned on to my skin everywhere they can reach so tightly that I know that what I said hasn’t made him upset.

“And of course, you’re also sexy as hell,” I add, smiling.

Art smiles back, then his face grows serious again. “I would like to respond to your declaration with one of my own. I love you too, Dean Miller. I have been hoping that perhaps our roleas temporary mates would become something more permanent eventually,” Art confesses.

“Me too,” I say.

“And you are also ‘sexy as hell’ and amazing. People like me now thanks to you.”

“That’s bullshit, Art. People like you foryou. They just didn’t get a chance to know you before, and they weren’t the right people if they were assholes. We all have to find our people, and I just helped you find some of yours. You were making friends at the party even without me there. Don’t sell yourself short, Art. You’re awesome.”

I lean in to kiss him, and Art smiles, but then his grin slips as he says, “You know there will be no avoiding dinner with my parents now.”

“Art, I can’t wait to have dinner with your parents. My mom is already getting the family history together. She thinks it’s adorable. Maybe we can all have dinner together, my parents and yours. I think that would be fantastic.”

Art looks surprised but delighted by the idea, and I kiss him again before sliding out of bed.

“We have to get ready,” I sigh. “Time to face the music with Frank.”

“Why would Frank play music if he wants to fire you?” Art asks.

I can’t help the burst of laughter, and I feel decidedly lighter as we get ready. Whatever happens this morning, I have Art in my life. Art tells me not to worry about Frank, and I appreciate his reassurance, but he can’t predict what will happen. It would really suck if I get fired or transferred, but I know I’ll land on my feet, especially with Art to support me.

Art is getting off a phone call when I get out of the shower, and on the way to the office he gets a text and tells me that we’re going to HR. I suppose maybe it is best to be proactive. And honestly, Frank was way out of line in how he treated Art.

It would suck to lose my job, but Art shouldn’t have to continue to work under Frank, either. The harpy obviously has a problem with him, and it only seems to be getting worse. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if Frank was hoping I would complain about Art or ask for a transfer. I wonder if he was trying to get Art fired. He definitely doesn’t seem to like Art, and I know Art has been called in before after the other techs left.

I wonder if Frank has been bullying Art all along? I should’ve asked Art that question, but it’s a little late, since we’re walking into Harry’s office.

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