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Maybe this year he won’t be so hard on Christmas. Or the annual HHM holiday party. Maybe this year, his understanding would click into place—a thousand white twinkling lights finally powering on after painstakingly replacing every bulb. Jimmy shuffled around with a prop-like glass of red wine. His ill-fitting jacket hung oddly on his limbs, hugging too tight on the shoulders and allowing too much allowance between his waist and buttons. It certainly didn’t help that there was a box concealed in the inner lining pocket of his jacket; every so often, he could hear the crinkle of the wrapping paper. He could very well put his Secret Santa gift under the tree for the recipient. However, the unveiling of the gift under the ceremonious wrapping paper would certainly result in curious questions that would no doubt make the recipient uncomfortable.
To be fair, to the outside eye, it was a rather weird gift. And, well, so were they. They, as in an entity. A phrase wisely not uttered by him, knowing what that could entail. As if he had manifested her to fruition, there she was. A vision in primary red and green acrylic yarn, he had never seen her in such… festive garb.
“Nice sweater,” he said, genuinely wanting that to sound as if it were a compliment. She rolled her eyes at him.
“Nice tie,” she retorted. He asked for that one. The only holiday tie available on short notice was a bit Christ-y; a detailed nativity scene under a starry night sky. He was certain he had seen this very image via oil painting during his years of Catholic school. Or at least one that looked like that. If you’ve seen one painting of Jesus, you’ve already seen them all.
Kim looked nervous, understandably so. Ever since she had gotten Chuck for Secret Santa, she had not-so-casually shaken him down for ideas. The kicker was that every gift she could think of was imminently better than anything he could ever dream up.
“Have you seen Chuck yet?” Kim asked. A matching, untouched glass of wine had taken up residency in her grasp as well.
Jimmy shook his head, taking a sip of the warming wine in his hand. There was a communion joke in there somewhere. He swallowed it down. They don’t spend too much time talking to one another; that’s the way it’s been since they started fucking around. Having sex. (Really, really great sex…) Whatever.
He lost track of the time, taking a lap around the party and making small talk with feigned ease. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his arm that he snapped out of it.
“Mailroom supply closet. Three minutes,” her voice was firm and authoritative. Jimmy couldn’t tell if she was angry or horny — to be honest, that overlap was sizable. Not that she would ever admit it. He can’t help but smirk before draining the rest of the wine.
His punctuality was rewarded as he was pulled into the supply closet three minutes later on the dot.
“Brenda said that she had Chuck for Secret Santa." Kim’s brows knit together, a mix of confusion and frustration.
“How could that be possible?” Jimmy’s attempt at looking just as confused started wavering, “Brenda had me for Secret Santa.”
“What did she get you?” That question was a warning all its own that she had caught him.
“A stationary set,” he shrugged it off, failing to mention it was a stationary set with Chuck’s initials on it, “Probably read the last name and assumed. Pretty easy to mix up.” There was a beat of silence between them. It was getting harder to determine where her head was, but if he were a betting man, his best bet would be that overlap he thought about earlier. “Did Chuck like it?”
“Yeah,” she let out a generalized sigh, a steam valve release of a sound. “He said it was incredibly thoughtful.” The corners of her lips lifted, and a glint of giddiness flashed in her eyes.
“Good,” he said, then remembered the box inside of his jacket. He takes it out, offering it up to her. “Merry Christmas, Kim.”
Kim held the gift, analyzing it as if he had put her in check in a game of chess.
“Did you —?” she hesitated to finish the question.
“I had you from the beginning,” Jimmy said, holding up his hands as if that would prove his honesty. “That was pure luck."
Her hands, gift and all, braced his chest as she pushed him against the door. Her mouth was on his in an instant. His mouth opened, eyes closed, eager for her tongue to wrangle his into submission. He could hear her place the gift on one of the nearby shelves, both of her hands available to start loosening his tie.
“I could just toss it over my shoulder —”
“Absolutely not. I hate this tie.”
“Fuck, Kim —” he hissed as her teeth grazed the clean shave on his jawline, “— I hate it, too.”
The tie was dropped to the floor, and she practically mechanically got his belt unfastened. Fucking hell, even she knew how to do this more efficiently than him. His attempt at doing anything with his hands was pulling out his wallet and fishing out a condom. His fingers rip the top of the wrapper off, static making the sliver of wrapper cling to his index finger. He shook his hand until the foil freed itself and fell to the floor.
Kim’s soft fist stroked him once over his boxers. Then twice. And once more, for good measure. The heat from the palm of her hand was bliss on his balls, and because she knew him so goddamn well at this point, she lingered there, the heel of her palm circling them. He bit his lower lip to keep his moan stifled. He could at least bring himself to drop his boxers to join his slacks.
He was about to reach for the hem of her sweater, but she took care of it, dodging her hair carefully to avoid any unwanted tousling. His mouth traveled over her breasts, where the cups of her bra met skin. Her soft sighs fueled him to proceed up to her collarbone, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin there. Jimmy placed the condom over himself, rolling it down as she slid off her heels and kicked off her loosened slacks and panties.
His tongue swiped along the pad of his thumb before his thumb started to pet between her legs. If they had more time, he’d make her come just doing that first. But this was something different. Something primal. She needed him right then and there, and who was he to deny her.
Kim’s face peeled away after being buried in his neck after her orgasm. Her breath was still hot on his neck, her body still pulsed around him like an extension of his own. As she slid off of him, he cautiously removed the condom, tying it off before burying it in one of the large janitorial bins. He grimaced, not finding a roll of paper towels or tissues anywhere in the closet. His eyes lowered to the floor and he spotted his tie. Well, he did say that he hated the tie. He buried the tie even lower than the condom and hoped that if there was a God, He would forgive him.
They resituate themselves; she combs his hair back into place, and he wipes the smeared edges of her lipstick. It’s a routine he was starting to grow quite fond of. His heart lurched when she grabbed his gift and started opening it.
“You remembered?” she rhetorically asked, laughing in surprise at the worn VHS box in her hands. “How did you remember this? Let alone remember that I didn’t have a copy?”
“Because whose favorite movie is Ice Station Zebra, and more importantly, how do you not own your favorite movie?” Jimmy gingerly nudged her with his elbow. “I figured we could have a movie night.”
“Yeah,” Kim smiled, “We could.”
They shared another comfortable silence before he nodded his head in the direction of the door.
“We should probably head back to it,” he suggested with a slight grin.
"Jimmy," she said, catching his attention before his hand could reach the handle.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” Kim said. She gently took his chin into her fingers and brought his lips down to meet hers.