Page 40 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

“Actually, I do believe that last statement is inaccurate,” the gorgon says from the corner.

The wind stops, the low rumbling dies down, and Frank gets visibly paler.

“Mr. Kefalas. I didn’t realize you were here,” Frank stutters.

Holy shit. I didn’t realize who Alexander was, but I recognize the name Kefalas. He’s the head of the entire scientific division, and Art was chatting him up at the party on Friday like they were old friends.

“When this situation was brought to my attention, Harry was only too happy to let me know about the numerous complaints over the years about you, as well as your less than stellar hiring record. It seems there was little concrete evidence until now, but with these most recent violations, the director in your division will be conducting a thorough investigation. For now, you are placed on leave pending those results. Security is outside to escort you to your office. You are dismissed,” Alexander states.

Frank starts to mutter, but Alexander’s long hair, which looked more like dreadlocks than snakes a moment ago, starts to wave about. Frank takes notice and can’t seem to leave the room fast enough.

“Holy shit, that was epic,” I say once Frank has slammed the door. I realize that may not be the best impression to leave on the head of the scientific division, but Alexander just laughs.

“That asshole had it coming,” Harry grumbles. “I’ve dealt with petty complaints about him for years, but nothing that was a fireable offense. Demanding Dean work outside contracted hours, starting rumors about employees, and then threatening Dean’s job is the tipping point.”

“But I didn’t mind spending time with Art,” I defend.

“Of course not,” Harry agrees. “That isn’t the point. At any rate, neither of you will need to worry about Frank again. You have more important things to do in that lab than deal with bullshit.”

Art stands up. “Harry Ebershoff, it has been a pleasure as usual. I have enjoyed your logical decision making regarding the situation.”

Harry laughs, and Alexander walks to the door and opens it, motioning us out. We walk down the hallway in silence for a moment. I honestly have no idea what to say. Mr. Kefalas is legendary in the company, and he just came to help us out in HR.

We get to the elevator, and Alexander turns to Art. “Tell your parents I said hello, and I look forward to meeting them for dinner soon. Hopefully you and your partner will be there as well.”

Art smiles. “Dean and I have agreed that our mating is not just a temporary one, so I suppose partner would be an acceptable term.”

Alexander grins, congratulates us both, and walks off down the hallway as Art and I get in the elevator.

Art looks at me as we travel up to the lab, and I let out a long breath.

“Were you not satisfied with that resolution?” he asks me.

I lean into Art, wrapping my arms around him. His tentacles and arms come up and wrap around me as well. He squeezes me tightly, which is exactly what I need.

“I’m definitely satisfied. That was just… a bit of a surprise. I was worried I was going to lose my job,” I answer.

“I did tell you not to worry, Dean Miller. I do not say things I do not mean,” Art says.

I laugh, kissing him lightly as the elevator door dings open. “That is true, Art. It’s just one of the many things I love about you.”

His face softens as we leave the elevator. “Dean Miller, I love you. I do wish we did not have to work today. I would enjoy another day of cuddling you, kissing you, and having sexual relations with you.”

As we walk toward the lab, I ponder the possibility of getting Art to take the afternoon off. After all, cuddles, kissing, and sexual relations sound damn good after the morning we just had.

Art

It is exactly 6:00 PM. Dean Miller and I stand in front of my parents’ door. Normally, I would walk in without knocking, but tonight is different.

Mom said she wouldn’t treat him differently because he was a human man. That means we’re doing the whole “meet the cephalopod parents” dinner, which isn’t for the faint of heart.

“Most cephalopod shifters choose a mate through a matchmaking service based on compatibility. We don’t date,” I say.

Dean nods. “You mentioned that already.”

“Yes, it’s just… meeting the parents is an integral part of the process. It comes with its own rituals and practices. It may seem strange to you.”

He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Decorating a tree with handmade ornaments seemed strange to you, right? And you did that for me.”

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