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Chapter Text

“I bet you are all wondering why I called this meeting?” Henry Fogg started. He was addressing a small crowd of his employees at Brakebills Agency.

Alice Quinn, his best quality assurance rep, was stationed in the front, her round glasses slipping down her nose. She carried a black agenda in one hand and a ballpoint pen in the other.

“I thought the quarterly meeting wasn’t until next Thursday,” she said, checking the agenda. “Unless I wrote it down wrong?”

She was already panicking as Fogg waved his hand at her. “No, that’s not it.”

He motioned to his assistant, a squirrely kid named Todd something, and he dutifully produced a large upturned Santa hat. There was a collective groan from the accountants in the back row. He hid his own grimace. Secret Santa was such a silly idea, but HR insisted they keep it going. Usually, this was the kind of thing he pawned off on Zelda, but she had mysteriously come down with a serious case of something that required her to work from home.

He held out the Santa hat, after grabbing a slip of paper out of it and glancing at it before shoving it into his front suit pocket. “Everyone participates!”

His employees groaned and giggled but they took their papers as the hat was passed back and forth throughout the meeting room. He read from the email on his iPad as he’d been directed by the HR girls.

“Don’t tell anyone who you have. And there is a $50 limit. We don’t want a repeat of Josh Hoberman’s ill-fated Sandals trip.”

That had been painful for all involved. Fogg shook his head in remembrance and took back the nearly empty Santa hat from Alice, and looked into it. He felt around inside and pulled out the remaining scraps. “Who is missing?”

The large group talked among themselves while Fogg took his own inventory. His top two ad execs, Quentin Coldwater and Eliot Waugh were absent from the crowd.

“Where’s Quentin? And Eliot?” he barked. The group began pulling out phones and one of the girls from the second floor poked her head outside the door to scour the desks to find them.

“Got em boss.” A commanding female voice piped up from the back of the room. It was Margo Hanson, one of his killer agents from the third floor. He made a mental note to give her Employee of the Month in January.

She was poking Quentin in the back and she had Eliot following closely behind.

Fogg wasn’t surprised by Quentin missing the secret Santa meeting. Ever since he’d joined the agency he had been reluctant to be involved in social events, like birthday parties, nights at the bar after closing a big account and the yearly end of summer BBQ. Eliot, on the other hand, was usually on the party planning committee. It wasn’t like him to miss anything.

“Sorry boss,” Eliot said, dropping into a chair beside Margo. “I was on a call with the client from FTB.”

A few of his other execs made faces. Eliot was the only exec who FTB wanted to speak to. Fogg allowed it, even though they had yet to make an actual proposal. It was probably since the CEO had a huge crush on Eliot. Instead of talking numbers, she liked to waste time and frustrate Eliot who only wanted to close the damn sale. Fogg felt for that kid.

Quentin didn’t apologize. He didn’t even sit down. He stood near the exit as if he wanted to be ready for a fire drill at any time. Fogg really didn’t care if he did, but he knew the party planning committee had insisted that everyone participate.

“Secret Santa,” he said, shaking the hat at him. Eliot smiled and eagerly grabbed a slip of paper out of the hat. Then he passed it along to Quentin.

“No, thank you,” Quentin said when the girl next to him handed him the hat.

The groans that came for that were even louder and angrier than the ones when he announced the whole business. Let it be said that the Brakebills employees were a bit of a mob when they wanted to be.

“You have to,” Fogg said. “There’s only one left.”

Quentin looked at the hat again, as if he was afraid of putting in his hand, like it might unleash some foul creature, but with the pressure of everyone’s eyes on him, he reached in and took the final piece of paper.

“Okay, that’s done,” Fogg said. Todd went to collect the empty hat. “We’ll do the exchange the night of our annual Christmas party. So that gives you all three shopping weeks to pick something out for your secret Santa. Meeting dismissed. Go make some goddamn money!”

He waited for the rest of his employees to file out. Todd per usual, was the last to leave. Fogg motioned for him to follow him as they headed towards his office. “Todd, find out what kind of perfume Julia Wicker from reception likes and have it gift wrapped by Friday.”

Todd had put the Santa hat on in a misguided attempt to look funny. But since the hat was oversized, it mostly flopped in his face and made him look like an overgrown elf. Fogg paused with his hand on the door to his office.

“Don’t people need coffee?” he said after Todd stood there a moment too long.

“Yes sir,” Todd said, scurrying off in the other direction.

==

Eliot walked next to Quentin on their way back to their desks. They sat on opposite sides of the office, even though they had been on the team about the same length of time. They also had been promoted at the same rate. Eliot wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he liked to use Quentin’s success as a measure of his own. If Quentin got a promotion, Eliot tried to get the next. They were always competing for the best clients and the best ad campaigns. Clients tended to prefer one over the other. It was always frustrating when a really big client chose the shy, subdued Quentin for a campaign, especially when Eliot had worked his ass off on the presentation for weeks. But he had accepted that the two of them had very different approaches to work, and that the clients were only responding to that.

“Did you really think Fogg would let you skip Secret Santa?” Eliot said.

Quentin startled a little like he didn’t notice Eliot was there beside him. Then he frowned and shook his head.

“Who did you get?” Eliot asked, flashing him the big smile that landed him the big account last month.

“It’s a secret,” Quentin said. He showed Eliot the crumpled piece of paper and instead of throwing it into the closest wastebasket, he made a big show of disappearing it out of his hand. Eliot was always a sucker for a magic trick, but he kept his face neutral.

“Good luck on the Evergreen mobile account,” Eliot said. He was still bitter he’d missed out on that one.

“Thanks,” Quentin said. He sat down at his desk and stared at his computer screen with a blank look on his face. Eliot didn’t hover, every bit of Quentin’s body language screamed at him to keep his distance.

On the walk across the office, he stopped for a coffee. He poured himself a cup and dug around in the mini fridge for his favorite creamer, hoping to God Margo had replaced it. She hadn’t, and the only good one left was coconut flavored. Plus there was a Tupperware container marked “Kady” that looked like it was growing mold. Eliot loudly complained as he began scraping the rotten food into the kitchen garbage. Before another spoonful of frankenfood, he crumbled up his own Secret Santa scrap and threw it in, letting the mess hide the evidence.

He knew what the paper said. It was all he could think about. Quentin Coldwater.

Eliot had returned to his desk and was three sips into a cup of terrible coffee when Margo sat down on the arm of his chair.

“Thanks for the save with Fogg back there,” he said, busy checking his email. He had a reminder about the big Christmas craft fair this week and he made a mental note to find someone to go with. They had all his favorite things, hot cocoa, a santa and reindeer, and all the great little homemade gifts. He could do some shopping there, maybe even find something for Quentin.

Margo accepted his thanks with a smug smile. “I knew you were gonna be late after I transferred that call to you.”

“I really wish she would just make up her mind,” Eliot said, deleting some spam mail. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“Poor El,” Margo said, petting the top of his head. “I saw Quentin working on his pitch when I dragged him away from his desk.”

That got Eliot’s attention, and he looked away from the computer screen. “Ugh, don’t tell me.”

Margo had known him long enough to know when no meant yes.

“It’s pretty good, a little dry, but Fogg’ll like it. He’s supposed to present this afternoon.”

“He’s wearing the tie he wears when he has to present,” Eliot glanced across the room, finding Quentin’s desk empty. “That thing looks like it came from the bottom of a goodwill donation bin.”

“You should have gotten that client,” Margo said, reaching over to flick one of the wiggly eyes on his snowman doll. Eliot had decorated his desk on December first.

“I know Bambi,” Eliot said, crossing his legs under the desk. “But Evergreen Mobile will bring the agency a shit load of money that just means we’ll get even more chances to land some big clients for us.”

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Margo said, getting up off his chair and walking across the room back towards her desk. Fogg had separated them after the first two weeks they had proven to be great friends but horrible teammates. Eliot had pretended to be upset but he actually was more productive this way.

==

“What about this?” Eliot said. He picked up a large painting of a horse jumping over a rainbow. It was the tackiest thing he’d ever seen. And since he knew nothing about Quentin’s taste other than he wore ill-fitting clothes and gross ties, it might be perfect.

Fen laughed at him as she thumbed through a selection of posters. “I don’t think even Fray likes something that...bright.”

Eliot sighed and leaned against the Target shopping cart filled with Christmas decorations. Fen had called him after work to help her shop, and he had decided to use it as a chance to brainstorm for secret Santa ideas. So far he’d come up with nothing but duds, but at least he’d helped his sister come up with some good looking ornaments and some very festive wreaths. They’d already canvassed the toy aisle for some great ideas for Fen’s daughter Fray.

“I’ve done secret Santa at Brakebills three times, and I’ve never had this hard time coming up with something. But when I think about Quentin, I keep drawing a big blank. The man has no interests, no personality. His desk is empty. He doesn’t even have one of those plastic plants. He’s an anti-person.”

Fen pushed the cart into the next aisle and stopped to admire a pink lamp.”How long have you known him?”

“Long enough to know that he’s going to be impossible,” Eliot said, following close behind. “No one at Brakebills knows anything about him. I already sent Margo out to see what she could dig up about him. The most we could gather is he drinks his coffee black and he ate a glazed doughnut once. That’s literally it.”

Fen seemed deep in thought as she kept shopping, showing him items for his approval before putting them back or adding them to her growing cart.

“It would be so much easier if I could just ask him what he wants for Christmas,” Eliot complained one more time as they walked to the checkout lane.

Fen smiled as she turned to him. “Why don’t you just ask him?”

Eliot raised an eyebrow at her, about to ask her if she’d forgotten the cardinal rule of a secret santa exchange until Fen smiled at him and put her hand on his arm. “Secretly.”

It was such a brilliantly simple idea that he felt like an idiot for not thinking of it himself. He helped Fen with her purchases and groceries, told her to give Fray a kiss before bed and promised to come over for dinner soon. Then he headed back to his place.

He sat down at his desk and booted up his laptop, then quickly created a new email account and sent a message.

To: [email protected] “Quentin Coldwater”

From: secret.santa@brakebills.com “Secret Santa”

Hello Quentin!

What would you like for Christmas this year?

Secret Santa

While he waited for Quentin to reply, he set to work decorating his apartment for Christmas. He enjoyed going through his box of ornaments, and remember past Christmases as he hung each on the tree. He hung up his advent calendar, and even replaced his normal couch pillows with Christmas themed ones. Finally he hung his favorite blue and silver wreath on the door. As he did a walkthrough, admiring his work, he heard a ping from his laptop, indicating he had a new message.

He eagerly sat down again, happy to see that Quentin had responded.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

You can get me a tie.

Quentin

Eliot groaned and shut his laptop. He spent the rest of the night decorating and drinking hot cocoa, still not sure what he was going to do about his Secret Santa.

==

The next morning Margo met Eliot at the door to Brakebills. He’d made a stop at their favorite coffee place and he handed her a peppermint latte while he stripped off his coat and mittens. Margo sipped her coffee and let out a happy sigh.

“How was your night?” she asked, as she followed him to his desk where he sat down his own toasted marshmallow mocha.

“Fine, I went shopping with Fen and then decorated my apartment.” Eliot draped his coat over the chair.

“Did you find him a gift?” Margo said, her eyes darting across the room where they knew Quentin must be.

“No,” Eliot whined. “He’s hopeless.”

“Keep trying, okay.” Margo said, a sour look on her face as Todd came up to them.

“What is it?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. He really did look sorry. He was terrified of Margo. “But Mr. Fogg needs to see you in his office right away.”

“Sorry Bambi.” Eliot took a drink of his coffee before popping a peppermint. “Duty calls.”

On the way there, he wondered what Fogg could possibly want. He hoped it was for a big new client and a huge commission. He was so caught up in his thoughts he hardly noticed someone else walking to the door.

“Oh hi Quentin,” he said, as they both reached for the door.

“Hi,” he replied. He was focussed on the door. “I need to see Mr. Fogg.”

“No, he needs to see me.” Eliot subtly hip checked Quentin away. “You can wait.”

With that, he cranked open the door to see Fogg sitting at his desk. His office was hardly decorated beyond the Secret Santa hat perched on a wall. Eliot made a mental note to borrow a tree from Fen to brighten the place up.

“You wanted to see me,” he asked, slipping into the room.

“Yes, and where’s Coldwater?”

Quentin dove inside at the mention of his name. “I’m here.”

“Oh good.” Fogg leaned forward in his chair and motioned them to sit. “I need to speak to you both regarding the Evergreen account.”

Quentin’s face fell, telling Eliot everything he needed to know. The pitch must not have gone well. Eliot did his best not to gloat outwardly. Fogg would tell him he was off the job and it would be all for Eliot to swoop in and save.

“I know the pitch wasn’t right,” Quentin began.

“I liked the pitch,” Fogg said with a wave of his hand. “But Evergreen was looking for something with a different sort of mood. That’s where you come in, Waugh.”

“Of course.” Eliot was already on the edge of his seat. He was already making pitches in his head, thinking about what he needed that would be just perfect.

“I’ve been watching you, and you really seem to have this Christmas spirit thing,” Fogg said with what would have been a smile if he was capable of showing any human emotion.

Eliot was beaming with pride.

“So I thought you might be able to give Coldwater a hand,” he finished.

“Wait, what?” Eliot said, his hopes dashed while Quentin echoed his protest.

“But Mr. Fogg,” he began. Fogg just ignored them both.

“You two are some of my best agents, and I can’t believe I never thought to team you up before,” he said, looking rather proud of himself. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms.

“Coldwater has already shown he has the skills necessary to appeal to the cutting edge crowd. We just need Waugh to appeal to the Christmas side, and together you two should be a dynamite team.”

“I have plenty of tech knowledge,” Eliot said, feeling a little offended. He shot an offhand look at Quentin, who seemed just as disgusted by the idea of the two of them working together.

“I can handle it,” Quentin said. “I just need an extra week to fine tune it.”

“Take the extra week and work with Waugh,” Fogg said firmly. He had clearly decided. He looked down his nose at the both of them, each not done with their pitch to take it alone. Eliot let out a small sigh and deflated, his brain trying to reroute all the ideas he’d been working on before Fogg burst his bubble.

“The two of you will present next week, I expect great things from both of you,” Fogg added, already snapping his attention back to his computer.

“Get to work, and somebody get Todd in here,” he finished.

Chapter Text

Quentin

Quentin was sitting at a desk in the meeting room with Eliot and he didn’t think he could hate life more in this moment. He’d been working on the Evergreen Mobile ad campaign for weeks, and now Fogg had just handed the reins over to Eliot. In only a few hours, Eliot had completely ripped his pitch apart. Now they were sitting in the remains of his failed pitch.

Eliot ran a hand over his hair and clicked his pen, then made a note on one of the pages. Quentin didn’t exactly hate Eliot, but he was not his favorite person at the agency. They’d been neck and neck for every account and every promotion. This time, Quentin was sure he’d finally pulled ahead.

The pitch with Fogg and the people from Evergreen had gone well. But when he finished and the Evergreen rep wasn’t smiling, he knew he’d messed up. It wasn’t the most touchy-feely commercial, but it did what the client asked for. It displayed the features of their service, and it promoted the new models. But apparently, it wasn’t Christmassy enough.

Quentin wasn’t a huge fan of Christmas. He knew enough about Eliot to know that he was a bit of a Christmas whore (his words.) His desk looked like Santa’s workshop and he was always bringing in candy canes. It was so incredibly obnoxious. Even now, when he crossed his legs under the table, his pants rode up his ankles, exposing socks with polar bears.

“You know what we need?” Eliot said, throwing down his pen.

“What?” Quentin was already rubbing his temples in anticipation of the coming headache.

“We need to do a little Christmas reconnaissance,” Eliot said. “There’s a Christmas craft fair just outside of town. It has everything, choir singers, reindeer, gifts, food and a Santa. We should go and get in the spirit.”

“Really?” Quentin stared down at the blank pitch. “Don’t you think we should stay and work on this?”

“That’s what we’re doing, Coldwater.” Eliot was already up and halfway across the room. “Meet me at the door in five. You’ll want mittens, it’s a bit nippy out.”

Only Eliot Waugh could use the word “nippy” while looking smug and self-satisfied. Quentin followed after, pulled on his coat and trudged out the door.

==

The Christmas craft fair looked like what would happen if Santa threw up. Everything was red and green, and holiday music was being pumped in on speakers. The last time he’d seen Eliot look this happy was when he beat Quentin for the Avalon Rentals account. 

Quentin, on the other hand, felt like he was being beaten with Christmas over the head. He kind of hated it. Eliot had the Brakebills camera, and was busy taking pictures of the decorations, of the children sitting on Santa's lap. He even made Quentin pose next to a snowman.

“Oh come on,” Eliot said, putting the camera away for a moment. “Nothing?”

Quentin just shrugged. “It’s just typical stuff.”

“It is not,” Eliot protested. He took Quentin by the wrist and dragged him to a bakery stall. Quentin would admit under duress, that it did smell really good, like vanilla and gingerbread.

“I’d like half a dozen sugar cookies,” Eliot said to the woman manning the stall. She reached out and hugged him, they were clearly friends. They stood there making small talk for a moment, then Eliot paid and accepted the box. Even the box was Christmas incarnate. Red and white striped with a green bow.

“Here,” Eliot said, pulling a cookie out of the box and offering it to him.

“I don’t like cookies,” Quentin said, shaking his head.

“Why do you hate fun, Coldwater?” Eliot said, not letting up. He dangled the cookie within Quentin’s reach. “Try it, you’ll like it.”

Quentin stared at the cookie like he thought it might sprout tentacles and attack, but eventually, he accepted it. Eliot keep watching him, so he took a tiny bite.

Eliot beamed. “Good, right?”

The cookie was almost overwhelmingly sweet. He needed something like coffee or milk to take the edge off. He chewed and swallowed, about to remind Eliot he didn’t like cookies. But when he took a second bigger bite, the cookie crumbled against his tongue and he began to appreciate the taste, it was more than just sweetness. The texture of it was unlike any other cookie he’d eaten. It melted in his mouth. Without thinking, he’d finished it, and actually found himself wishing for another. 

“You love it,” Eliot laughed and dragged him to the hot cocoa stall. “Those cookies remind me of when me and my sister used to bake cookies for Santa every Christmas Eve. We’d almost make ourselves sick with sneaking raw cookie dough.”

He paused for a moment, shifting the box to his other hand.”Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I’m an only child,” Quentin said. Eliot made a hum of acknowledgment and shoved a hot cup into his bare hand. He really had been getting cold, so the cocoa was appreciated even if it wasn’t what he would order for himself. It was rich and smooth, and nicely complemented the lingering taste of sugar cookie in his mouth. He had to sip slowly lest he burn his tongue, but he was regaining feeling in his fingers. 

Next, Eliot dragged him over to look at the craft stalls. They saw racks and racks of mini trees, wreaths, tree skirts and so many kitschy ornaments. Eliot oohed and ahhed over it all. 

“Do you like these?” Quentin said, pointing out a row of tightly knitted caps. 

“I personally am not a fan of the hat,” Eliot said wrinkling his nose. “This hair doesn’t do this without some elbow grease.”

Quentin couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t like hats either.”

“Are you looking for a gift for someone special?” Eliot asked as Quentin took a moment to feel all the scarves and ties. There were some truly obnoxious looking Christmas ties and some ugly scarves on the row.

“No, just my Secret Santa,” Quentin said, running his fingers down a long skinny tie. He could practically hear Eliot boot up. He was right next to Quentin in a flash. It was times like these he was reminded of their height difference. Eliot had several inches on Quentin and it had never really bothered him until they were shoved right up against each other. 

“I can help you know,” Eliot said. “Maybe you could tell me who you have.”

“Nice try,” Quentin said. “It’s a secret.”

“How about a scarf?” Eliot said, showing him a blue and white scarf knitted with a snowflake pattern. For Quentin it was a little fancy, but for Eliot it might have worked. “My grandmother used to knit, and she taught my sister. Every year they made me scarves like this. I love them.”

Quentin looked at the price tag and put it back on the table. “Maybe.”

Eliot showed him jewelry, handicrafts, mint candy, and some truly tacky Christmas sweaters. Quentin took pictures of it under the guise of using it as research for their pitch, but he was also trying to catalog the things Eliot liked the most.

He’d been less than excited when he took the final scrap in Fogg’s Santa hat and seen Eliot’s name. It was his first Secret Santa at Brakebills and he was not looking forward to it. Just more annoying forced Christmas celebrations. If Quentin had known this about the agency he might have reconsidered coming to work there. 

Eliot snapped a few more pictures, bought some stupid looking stuffed reindeer for his neighbors and then finally decided they could go back to the agency. Quentin looked down at his watch and realized how much time had passed. He’d been dreading this trip but it actually hadn’t been that bad, and the workday was almost over. He had to admit Eliot’s idea had been good.

==

Eliot

After the Christmas fair, Eliot had gone home in a good mood. Quentin hadn’t been as enthusiastic as he was about the fair, but he had been tolerable. He could tell that even though he was trying to seem indifferent, there were a couple of times he’d enjoyed himself. He was still salty he was being used to pimp out Quentin’s proposal, but there was a part of him that also felt a little smug that Coldwater couldn't finish it himself. It was quite the ego boost that Fogg had picked him to save the day.

He made himself a small dinner, just some chicken and rice, opened up a bottle of wine and enjoyed his evening. He didn’t text anyone, didn’t call, and he might have been a little lonely, but Eliot knew he wasn’t alone. He had a great job, great friends, an amazing family. So what if he didn’t have a boyfriend? He couldn’t help but think a little about Mike, and how that ended last summer. 

Mike had been a good boyfriend, but Eliot had been less so. He’d been so focused on his career, and he’d been using all his spare time taking care of Fray when Fen was dealing with her issues, that he’d barely had anything left for Mike. He still felt guilty when he thought about it, but a quick Facebook snoop had revealed that Mike had met someone new and they were celebrating their engagement in Ibiza. The thought warmed his heart to an extent, but he wasn’t completely without jealousy.

==

“I have something for you,” Quentin said. He was standing over Eliot’s desk at 9:01 am. Eliot hadn’t even taken off his gloves yet.

“You didn’t have to get me any--”

Quentin dropped what looked and sounded like a twenty pound binder on his desk, rattling the Santas and the mini tree. A typewritten label read “Market Strategy.”

“When did you have time to do this?” he asked, staring at the drab blue cover. It looked like something he would have read in College Marketing and it was the kind of reading that was guaranteed to put him right to sleep.

Quentin shrugged. “I don’t sleep much.”

Eliot sighed and flipped the page. For the rest of the day, they worked in tandem, exchanging a few words and ideas and Eliot was sure none of this binder was actually useful. He did it to humor Quentin, who had seemed so damn proud of it, but as soon as this project was over he would be throwing this mess in the shredder. 

Fen called that afternoon and asked him over to watch Fray while she went out for a teacher’s meeting. Her house looked a lot like his, decorated floor to ceiling in Christmas. When he arrived, the first person to greet him was his niece, Fray. She had been waiting at the door, and she rushed his legs as soon as he opened the door. He picked her up and lifted her to his face to give her a warm hug. The love he felt for his niece was the best. Having her around made Christmas so much more fun. She was so excited about everything. Santa, the tree, the presents, it all was infectious. You couldn't be upset when she was around. 

He hadn’t even taken his coat off before she was grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into the kitchen where Fen was busy cleaning up. Fray was talking a mile a minute, telling him about school, and her list for Santa, and asking if he wanted to make snowflakes.

It wasn’t until later, after Fray had gone to bed, and Fen got back from her meeting, that Fen and Eliot had a chance to talk.

“How did the Secret Santa thing go?” she asked.

Eliot wrinkled his nose. “Not great. I asked him what he wanted for Christmas and he said I could get him a tie.”

Fen laughed. “Well, you always say he could use a new one.”

“A tie is something you buy for Father’s Day. It is not a Secret Santa gift. I want it to be more personal.”

Fen nodded. “You could always try again?”

Eliot considered it. It was worth a shot. Later that evening, after he’d gone home, he logged into his Secret Santa email account and sent another message to Quentin. He wasn’t going to let Quentin get away with a dumb gift. He was determined to figure him out. 

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

No ties here at the North Pole. Do you watch sports? Do you like to read?

Eliot barely had time to switch tabs to the YouTube video he was about to watch before Quentin was responding. He was definitely the type who had his work email sent to his phone, because otherwise why was he responding so late. 

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

Why is it so important you get me the right gift?

Eliot was a little thrown by his answer. It was like Quentin refused to reveal anything about himself on purpose. Even just a hint of his personality would help at this point. Eliot sat back in his chair and cracked his knuckles before responding.

From: Secret Santa

To: Quentin Coldwater

It’s my job as your Secret Santa!

He felt fairly proud of himself, and didn’t even bother trying to do something else while he waited for Quentin’s response. 

From: Quentin Coldwater

To: Secret Santa

Bah humbug. 

==

The next morning Eliot met Quentin at the door to the office. Quentin looked a little more frazzled than usual and he even had a button undone on his dark blue dress shirt, that Eliot set about pointing out as soon as he could. Quentin gave him a dirty look and then fixed it. 

“I was thinking today we could go work at the cafe around the corner,” Eliot suggested. “The coffee here is undrinkable, and I really focus better when I’m caffeinated.”

Quentin looked like he was going to protest, then he let out a little sigh of acceptance. “You have a point. I’ve been making coffee at home and taking it in a travel mug, but today I overslept.”

“Great. And I’ve got some statistics on the last three years of social media Christmas campaigns from the top five cell phone carriers competing with Evergreen,” Eliot added, shaking a folder at Quentin.

“Wow,” Quentin said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

Eliot just patted him on the shoulder and threw his green and white striped scarf around his neck.

“I just need to grab some stuff I left on my desk last night.” Quentin motioned toward his desk.

Eliot nodded. “I’ll meet you at the door in a few minutes.”

Quentin walked back across the room to his desk. Eliot couldn’t see him but he knew what he would find. He watched as Quentin’s head bobbed up and down at the desk, then paused. He had to have noticed it. It was a mini Christmas tree decorated in blue and silver. It smelled like pine and it had a note tucked under the pot.

You need more Christmas spirit. - SS

Quentin fell into step beside him, and they started the short walk to the coffee shop.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Quentin said, pulling his coat up around his face as the snow began to blow. 

“Do what?” Eliot stepped over a snowy puddle.

“The Christmas tree. It’s very nice, and I’m actually kind of impressed you were able to sneak it into my pod before I got in today.”

Eliot frowned. “What Christmas tree?”

“You can stop the charade. I’ve known you were my Secret Santa for a few days now. The emails were a nice touch.”

They stopped in front of the coffee shop and Eliot tried to kick the excess snow off his boots. Then he turned to Quentin.

“I don’t have any idea what you're talking about. I’m not your Secret Santa, and I didn’t send you any emails.”

“Oh.” Quentin’s triumph waned as he realized he was wrong, and Eliot turned to open the door and to hide the smile he was fighting. As if on cue, Quentin’s phone beeped with a new message. “I thought I had it figured out.”

He walked inside, and checked the message while they stood in line to order coffee. Eliot tried his best not to watch Quentin read it, but he knew what it said.

To: Quentin

From: Secret Santa

Enjoy. Water it every day.

Eliot felt was so proud he’d taken the time to figure out the Evergreen Mobile’s schedule feature. Just one of the many superior features of the phone he’d be sure to point out to show Fogg his expansive tech knowledge. 

==

As it usually happened when he was working hard, Eliot lost all track of time. It had only seemed like they’d just finished lunch when he looked down and saw that it was after 6.

“I’ve got to get going,” Eliot said, packing up his papers and slipping them into his folders. He shoved everything into his old messenger bag and jumped up from the table.

Quentin looked at his watch and started to clean up, albeit at a slower pace. “Big plans?”

“It’s dinner at my sister’s,” Eliot told him. “She’s making my Grandma’s recipe for homemade ravioli and it’s my favorite. I promised I’d there on time.”

He watched Quentin check his phone then put it back in his pocket.

“What about you? Got a date?”

Quentin blushed a little at that. “No, just gonna head home to work on the pitch some more.”

“What about dinner?” Eliot threw on his coat and began zipping it up.

“I’ve got a couple TV dinners.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Eliot stopped and stared at him. “You should come with me.”

Quentin froze in the act of shrugging on his own coat. “I couldn’t.”

Eliot wasn’t sure why he’d just invited his co-worker and kinda sorta enemy to dinner but the idea of Quentin staying home and working with a frozen meal shook him to his core. Very un-Christmas like, and wasn’t that his whole purpose of working on the pitch with Quentin? 

"Fen makes way too much for just us, and we’d love to have you,” Eliot said. “The more the merrier.”

“I guess.” Quentin didn’t look convinced, but his reluctance was past the tipping point. Eliot took it as a win.

“Great, then you’re coming.” Eliot whipped out his phone. “I’ll ask Fen to use the good china.”

Chapter Text

Quentin

Quentin pulled up the address Eliot had given him and stood outside what must have been his sister’s house. Even from the driveway, he could tell the place had been sprayed with a Christmas hose. There were twinkling lights outside and a blown-up Santa sitting in the front yard. Eliot had already pulled in, and was out of the car and walking up the steps, so Quentin raced to meet up with him.

Eliot stopped to kick snow off his boots and Quentin did the same. The door flung open and a little girl jumped out.

“Uncle Eliot!” she said grabbing him around his legs like she hadn’t seen him in years.

“Hey munchkin,” he said, easily lifting her. Eliot’s niece noticed Quentin and shied away, burying her face in Eliot’s shoulder.She was cute, with big blue eyes and blonde hair that hung in ringlets around her head. She wore a pair of purple glasses and what appeared to be a dinosaur t-shirt.

Quentin was hit with a bunch of sensations at once. The house was brightly colored and smelled like garlic, chocolate, and tomato. Quentin closed the door behind him, and started to unzip his coat as the house was so warm he already felt stifled. He could see a roaring fireplace next to a tall Christmas tree. He was reminded of the Christmas fair. A television playing children’s cartoons flashed in the distance. Eliot’s voice brought him out of it.

“This is my friend Quentin, from work. Quentin, this is Fray,” Eliot said. “Can you give him a fist bump?”

Quentin couldn’t help but feel a weird stomach flip at hearing Eliot call him a friend.

Fray seemed to be considering then she shifted around and reached out her hand. Quentin smiled and bumped fists with her. Eliot set her down and she grabbed each of them by the hand and pulled them into a tiny but incredible smelling kitchen.

“El, thank god you’re here,” came a female voice from behind a kitchen island. Quentin heard a few clangs and bumps and then a woman stepped out from behind it.

“You must be Quentin!” she said descending upon him. “I’m Fen, I’m so glad you came.”

If it were anyone else, Quentin might have thought they were being fake or obnoxious, but Fen just seemed generally happy. Her brown hair was tied up in a messy bun and she was wearing a green apron shaped like a Christmas tree, decorated with little ornaments and bells that jangled when she walked.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, extending a hand to her. She shook, while turning her head to call to Eliot.

“I need you to make the garlic knots.”

“Fen is physically incapable of not burning bread,” Eliot said. He’d already made himself at home in the kitchen and was opening a bottle of wine. “You want some?”

“Sure,” Quentin said, still a little in awe. He watched as the two of them worked together to finish the meal, often completing each other’s sentences or playfully teasing. He felt jealous of their family dynamic, but he did his best to ignore the feeling, and instead helped Fray set the dinner table.

Once everyone was seated, and the food was served, Quentin understood why Eliot had been so nonchalant about having him over. There was enough ravioli, salad, and garlic knots to feed three times as many people as were here.

When Fen saw his eyes wandering over the food, she looked a little embarrassed. “It’s how Grandma used to cook. I never got around to halving the recipe.”

Eliot passed Quentin another roll, and refilled his wine glass without being asked. Fray was already eating her ravioli and Fen reached over to offer her a napkin. The little girl's face was fast becoming red with tomato sauce.

“She made it three times a year,” Fen said, cutting into her helping. “Grandpa’s birthday, Eliot’s birthday, and then one random time in december. Which is why we’re here.”

“It’s very good,” Quentin said, even though he could barely taste it since the filling had burned his tongue. He drank wine and picked at his salad to cope until it cooled off.

He appreciated the way Fen and Eliot talked around him, letting him join the conversation when he had something to offer, but they didn’t make him answer any questions or tell them anything too personal. He didn’t even feel awkward or uncomfortable about being there. Eliot had relaxed, as he reached across the table to serve Fray or laughed at Fen’s jokes. Usually Eliot seemed so fussy and proper. Now he was wiping tomato sauce off his cheek and making funny faces at the little girl across the table.

“You two finish the wine,” Eliot said, helping a messy Fray out of her chair and gently guiding her from the room. “I’ll get the munchkin cleaned up.”

Fen didn’t miss a beat as she picked up the nearly empty bottle and topped off their glasses. “Do you like working at Brakebills?”

“Yeah,” Quentin said. He’d already wiped his face, but nerves lead him to pat his mouth again to be sure. “Everyone is very nice.”

“Eliot loves it.” Fen paused, then shot him a killer smile. “I haven’t heard too much about you. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Quentin balled up the napkin and threw it in his place. “No.”

“Or a boyfriend?” she added, catching Quentin off guard. He reached for his wine and shook his head.

“I’m just really busy.”

“You sound like Eliot. Ever since Mike, he hasn’t even gone on a date. Married to the job, the two of you.” She put her hands on her hips as she stood up and grabbed the empty bread basket.

Quentin didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to. Fen was still talking, clearing the table. “I just hope you have someone to spend Christmas with.”

“I’m not very close with my family,” Quentin said, studying the flowers etched in his plate until Fen came to take it from him.

“Oh that’s a shame,” she said, and it sounded sincere. “Eliot and I are all that’s left of ours. But we usually invite some friends over and make a real event out of it.”

“All clean, Mommy.” Fray hopped over to where Fen stood with her hands full of dishes.

“That’s great honey,” she said. “Why don’t you take Quentin into the living room while me and Uncle El finish cleaning up?”

“I can help,” Quentin said, standing up and reaching towards her. Fen shook her head and slipped past him.

“You’re our guest,” she said firmly. He could hear running water in the kitchen and he swore he could hear Eliot singing in the distance. But his attention was diverted to the little girl grabbing his hand and pulling him into the living room.

“Do you wanna play Paw Patrol?” she asked him. Quentin sat down on the couch beside her and she started bringing him little toy dogs. He didn’t really have a choice. He got down on the floor with her and started driving the little dalmatian in a car around the carpet and making vroom vroom noises. Fray seemed to be having fun as she directed their play. Quentin drove a toy truck across the room until it ran into a socked foot. A foot wearing abominable snowman socks.

He glanced up to see Eliot looking down at him with a huge smile on his face.

He scrambled to stand and Eliot started to laugh. “Hey wait, let me get a picture!”

“No way!” Quentin clumsily used the edge of the coffee table to get to a standing position but almost tripped on a toy under his toes.

“Easy there,” Eliot said, reaching out an arm to steady him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you were crawling around on the floor with my niece even if it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“No one would believe you anyway,” Quentin said, steadying himself and brushing the dust off his pants. Eliot let go of his arm and kept smiling.

“Hey Q!” Fray said, coming up behind him and tugging him over to the Christmas tree. “Come see!”

“Q?” Eliot raised an eyebrow, as he followed the two of them.

“She had a little trouble saying Quentin, so I told her she could call me that instead.”

“Look!” Fray pulled off a snowman ornament and thrust it into Quentin’s hands. It was definitely made by a child, with a triangle carrot nose and a jagged cut black square for a top hat.

“This is a very nice ornament,” he said, admiring it from all angles.

“I made it in school!” Fray said proudly. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Quentin said, and went to put it back on the tree.

“You can keep it,” she said, stopping his hand. “For Christmas.”

“Oh that’s very nice of you,” Quentin said. “But I can’t take this--”

He looked at Fray who seemed to be bursting with pride, and at Eliot who was watching the situation unfold with a quiet yet amused air.

He wrapped his hand around the delicate paper and clutched it to his chest. “Thank you Fray.”

==

After dinner and playing with Fray, Quentin and Eliot finally set out to leave. Fen was already talking about Christmas dinner with Eliot, asking him to bring cookies and reminding him of important dates. It made Quentin’s heart ache a little as he carried the large tupperware container of ravioli that Fen had foisted upon him.

When he got home, he put the leftovers in his fridge, and took a long hot shower. Then he sat down at his desk, dressed in pajamas and opened up his laptop to take another shot at the pitch. But something inside him wouldn’t let him continue.

He closed his laptop and grabbed his phone instead, then scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he was looking for. He hadn’t called it in months and it hadn’t called him either.

He sighed and pushed dial. It rang a few times then went to voicemail, which Quentin had expected. He took a deep breath and tried to prepare as he listened to the message.

“Hello you’ve reached Karen Coldwater, I’m unable to take your call at the moment so please leave your message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

He waited for the beep then started to talk. “Hi Mom, it’s me. I was wondering if maybe um, if you were free next week? Maybe we could have dinner. Let me know.”

He put his phone on the charger and decided instead of staying up all night he’d try to get some sleep. He put his laptop away and went into the living room to turn off the lights. As he reached for the lamp, he noticed Fray’s snowman sitting out on the coffee table where he’d left it. He had no other decorations up, and he’d thought it would seem out of place, but the simplicity of the snowman actually seemed to work with his apartment. He smiled and carefully arranged the snowman so it could be seen from where he’d be sitting on the couch.

The next morning Quentin was early for work. He’d stopped making coffee in the mornings since he and Eliot had been going to the coffee shop every day. He sat down at his desk to check his email and to get ready for the day when his eye caught the tree sitting on his desk. He kinda liked it. It made his desk a little more special.

He pulled up his email account, and instead of reading the new messages, he replied to one from the day before.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

Thank you for the tree. I like it.

==

Eliot

Eliot had been stationed at Margo’s desk that morning, helping her make some final decisions on layouts. It was nice to work on someone else’s project for a minute, and get a break from Evergreen. They were comparing two different fonts when a message popped up on his phone.

It was from Quentin. He pulled it up and smiled as he read it, then showed it to Margo. He let her look over her shoulder as he replied.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

Did it get you into the Christmas Spirit?

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

It may have helped a little.

Margo held his phone to her chest and gave him one of her evil grins. “Are you sure he has no idea that it's you?”

“Nope,” Eliot said, pleased as punch. “I told him I wasn’t and then I set it up so an email would come in while we were out together.”

“You are so clever,” Margo said. She turned her attention to the layout. “So we like the white with the blue lettering and this shadow?”

“Yeah,” Eliot said. His attention was drawn back to his phone, where he had a new message from Quentin.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

Santa, tell me one of your favorite things about Christmas.

To Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

I’m a sucker for a good snow. You could say I’m obsessed. I even collect snow globes.

Eliot sent the message and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“I never took Ebeneezer Scrooge as the pen pal type,” Margo said.

“I know, right,” Eliot said getting up from her desk. “I’m starting to learn more about him. He’s actually kind of funny.”

“No way.” Margo folded her arms. “I'm gonna need video.”

“He was really cute with Fray,” Eliot added.

“I can’t believe you had him over for dinner. Fen must have been so excited.”

“She was,” Eliot said. “You’re still coming for Christmas?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Got my stretchy pants on standby.” Margo peeked into the office where they could see Quentin working at his desk, his tiny tree standing proudly next to his phone.

“How can he not know it’s you?” she said. “Who else would make up a fake email account just to find the perfect gift?”

Eliot shrugged. “It’s a big building.”

Alice walked up and stood beside Margo, trying to see what they were so interested in. “What are you guys doing?”

Margo jumped a little but regained her cool. “Just talking about the Evergreen account. Eliot’s helping on the pitch now.”

“Oh yeah,” Alice said. She smoothed her straight blonde hair over her ears. “Good luck with that.”

“We’ll talk later El.” Margo patted his shoulder.

Eliot started to head to his desk, but Alice was right there next to him.

“You know Margo pretty well,” she started, using the tone of voice he recognized as the one people employed before asking for a favor. Alice Quinn had never asked him for anything. Why was she starting now?

“You could say that,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Do you know what she wants for Christmas?” Alice asked, her black agenda open to a blank page.

“Are you doing research for Secret Santa?” Eliot stopped in front of his desk. “Asking for a ‘friend’?”

“Just asking around,” Alice said. She looked at him over the top of her book, pen poised to write whatever he was going to say next.

“You can tell her Secret Santa that our friend Margo loves the peppermint lattes from the cafe on 5th.”

“Okay, I will.” Alice made a note in the agenda. “Uh, thanks Eliot.”

He waved his hand at her with a cheeky grin. “All in a day’s work.”

==

Later that morning Quentin and Eliot were sitting in the cafe, a couple of empty coffee cups strewn around, and fresh mugs in front of them.

“How about a dog that brings in the mail, brings in Christmas presents and then brings in a new Evergreen mobile phone?” Eliot suggested, nibbling at the scone he’d ordered an hour ago and mostly forgotten about.

“Really?” Quentin gave Eliot a sideways look. Eliot rolled his eyes right back and then glanced down at his phone where a message from Marina was flashing in front of him. He groaned and turned his phone over without reading the contents. He already knew it couldn’t be good news.

“What’s wrong?” Quentin said.

“It’s that woman from FTB,” Eliot said, picking off a piece of the cranberry orange pastry and shoving it in his mouth. He chewed a bit before adding. “She’s just hellbent on ruining my life.”

“I thought she was someone else’s client.”

“Yeah, well she was Kady’s but she talked to me a few times and decided she liked me better, so I’ve been dealing with her for the last couple weeks. She just been the biggest micro manager and she keeps changing her mind about what she wants. It’s been a real pain in the ass.”

“Can’t you set some boundaries with her? Or at least make Kady take her back since she was hers to begin with?”

“I thought about it, but if it makes the client happy.” Eliot took a bigger bite of scone, and washed it down with a sip of his coffee. “I’m a team player.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Quentin trailed off. “You should say something to her.”

“And risk losing the account? No way, I couldn’t do that to the firm.”

They each sat there in silence for a minute. Eliot looked down to realize he’d finished the scone without even noticing. Eliot’s emotional response to conflict had always been to stuff his face. He hated that Quentin had been able to make him feel that way. Eliot wanted to assume Quentin was only trying to help, but he also felt like Quentin was judging him. And he couldn’t fathom Quentin questioning his methods.

“Our ways of working with clients are different,” he finally said, staring at his empty scone plate, wishing he had another.

“I know.”

“That’s why Fogg put us together,” Eliot said. He was trying to not get mad about it. “You’re not exactly the most friendly person.”

“What?” Now Quentin looked angry.

“I’m just saying, you’ve been here for almost a year now, and how many friends do you have at work? How many times have you come out with us after work for drinks, or to Fogg’s barbecues, or even to pick up doughnuts when Margo has a sugar craving?”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to do a job,” Quentin replied. He didn’t seem angry anymore, maybe a little defensive, but he also had a bit of a sad look in his eyes. He looked up at Eliot for just long enough for him to see it.

“Why do I have to have drinks with Penny from Accounting?”

“Because you might like Penny from Accounting. I mean he’s kind of a dick, let’s be honest, but he’s funny and sometimes he picks up the tab when he’s had a few too many. And if he hasn’t, he usually volunteers to be the designated driver..”

Eliot pointed at Quentin who was pouting but listening. “He could be your Secret Santa.”

“He’s not my Secret Santa,” Quentin said, sitting up straight.

“How do you know that?” Eliot put his coffee cup to his mouth but didn’t drink, watching Quentin over the rim of the mug until he spoke.

“I just do,” Quentin said firmly, his way of putting the matter to rest. Eliot swallowed his coffee and they both found other things to look at instead of each other.

Eliot watched as Quentin looked down at his phone, then began typing a message. He pretended to be looking at the binder in front of him, but he was also watching his phone, which predictably lit up with another email from Quentin.

He cleared his throat and slipped the phone into his pocket. “I’m gonna get another scone, do you want something?”

Quentin just shook his head and went back to the pitch, and Eliot got up and practically jogged across the shop to read the new message.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

Do you think I’m too distant?

Eliot felt his heart sink a little. He hadn’t meant to make Quentin feel bad and yet he supposed he had. But he was distant, and he needed to know the truth.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

I think you can be.

He was in line for another scone when the next message popped up.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

I’m not really good at talking about myself or opening up.

Eliot paid for his scone before answering the message.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

You’re doing okay with me.

He was on his way back to their table when Quentin answered, and he stopped, watching Quentin’s back as he read it.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

It’s different with you. You’re behind a screen.

Eliot took a bite out of the scone and stood against a wall, beside the condiment bar, stepping out of the way of a woman adding some cream to her drink. Then he quickly typed a reply.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

Maybe try opening yourself up more often. You might be surprised at what you find.

Chapter Text

Quentin

After a long day of working on the ad campaign, Quentin and Eliot walked back from the coffee shop in a heavy snowfall. Eliot never seemed bothered by the cold. He just wrapped a brown and blue striped scarf around his chin and lead the way. Quentin was only wearing his suit jacket and a light coat,and he could feel his teeth chattering.

They stood in the entrance to their office, each shaking snow off their boots and from their hair. Zelda from HR held open the door for them, smiling in that slightly superior way she had.

“How is your Secret Santa going?” she asked Quentin as he passed.

“It’s going just fine, thank you,” he said stifling his frown. As soon as she walked away, he turned to Eliot and rolled his eyes. Eliot just laughed.

“Oh come on,” Eliot said after Quentin finally laughed too. “She’s just trying to help.”

“I know how to buy a Christmas present,” Quentin said. He walked with Eliot back towards his desk, where the lone tree still stood. As Eliot looked on, he grabbed his water bottle and put a little water in the pot.

“Don’t you want to know who your Secret Santa is?” Quentin asked. He set down their papers and turned around to face Eliot.

“Let me tell you this, I’ve been at this company for a few years now, and my Secret Santas have been rather disappointing.”

He ticked the items off on his fingers. “Year one, a gift card to a restaurant that was closed by the health department, year two a snuggie, year three a groupon for golf lessons in another state.”

Quentin couldn’t help but laugh at that. Mr. Christmas had been so gung-ho about Secret Santa, only to get the shaft every time. In a way, it at least took some of the pressure off in finding the perfect gift.

“I’m shocked you still participate,” he said leaning against his pod. Eliot was standing opposite him, an amused grin still in place. He didn’t seem bothered at all.

“It’s the thought that counts. Plus, I’ve always been more into giving than receiving.”

Eliot smiled and matched Quentin’s lean, and suddenly his words took on a vibe that Quentin wasn’t expecting. He swallowed, but he didn’t turn or look down or even shy away. He just stood there meeting Eliot’s eyes.

“Hey Coldwater!” Someone shouted from the other side of the room, breaking the quiet tension. “I need your flash drive with the Randall account.”

“That’s Poppy,” he said, opening his top drawer and fishing out a small black flash drive. “We worked on a project two months ago.”

“Better go then,” Eliot said, still not moving from his spot. Quentin brushed past him, his cheeks a little warm, and went to give her the drive.

When Quentin returned to his desk about twenty minutes later Eliot was gone, but Alice was there instead. She was holding a paper plate and setting down a red napkin next to his keyboard.

He watched as she picked up a chocolate chip cookie and placed it on the napkin.

“Hi,” he said, making her flinch a little.

“Oh you caught me!” she said, whipping around. “I made cookies last night and they always go so quick in the breakroom, so I saved you one. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Quentin picked up the cookie and took a bite. It was soft and the chocolate was melty. It wasn’t as good as the sugar cookie from the Christmas fair, but it tasted pretty nice after drinking coffee all afternoon.

“It’s good,” he said, putting it back on the desk. “Thank you.”

Alice beamed and moved to walk away, but she made a quick turn before she was out of earshot. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I love that tree.”

==

Eliot

Eliot sat in Fogg’s office, hands in his lap as he finished his phone call.

“And extra ketchup,” he finished.

Eliot bit his lip to keep from smiling. He was clearly talking to Todd, who always messed up the lunch orders.

He swore under his breath as he set his phone back on the receiver, then turned his attention back to Eliot.

“I just wanted to tell you good work on Evergreen. I’ve been watching you two and I can’t believe I didn’t think to pair you up sooner.”

“It’s going really well,” Eliot half lied to his boss. He didn’t need to know they still didn’t have a concrete pitch planned.

“So I don’t know if you know, but Harriet is going to be leaving the company early next year, and so there will be an opening for her position.”

Eliot couldn’t help but sit up a little straighter and he reflexively straightened his tie.

“I know you’ve been interested in that position for quite some time,” Fogg looked at Eliot with his usual smirk. “Are you still interested?”

“Yes, sir,” Eliot said.

“I have to tell you we have a very short list of possible candidates, and depending on how this pitch goes, I think I’ll be able to make the final decision.”

Eliot rubbed his hands against his pant legs and tried to maintain his composure.

“Okay,” he said.

“I’ll make the announcement right before the holiday break, at the big Christmas party. It’ll give you and Quentin time to plead your cases.”

“Quentin?” Eliot let his disappointment show for only a moment.

“Yeah, he’s the other major contender.” Fogg tapped his fingers on the desk and checked his watch. “Well, keep up the good work, and we’ll talk again soon.”

Eliot smiled as he left the office but he felt odd all day. His dream job was dangling in front of him, but Quentin was the final obstacle in his way. He wished it could have been anyone else.

After work, it was still on his mind. The roads were slow and snow packed, and it was a long drive home. He tried to do his normal night time routine, but nothing was holding his interest. After a couple attempts at watching a tv show or reading a book, he gave up and gave Fen a call instead.

She answered right away, like she always did when he called.

“Fogg told me I’m in line for the Creative Director position.” He wanted to sound happier but he was troubled.

“Oh my god, you’ve been after that job for years, this is so exciting!” Fen’s enthusiasm could barely be contained. It made him smile at least

“It’s just the other major contender is Quentin,” he told her. He focused on his advent calendar on the wall opposite his front door. He mentally counted down the days until Christmas, and then the days until the final pitch. There wasn’t much time left.

“You two butting heads again?” she asked.

“Well, when we talk on email we get along great. He’s funny and sweet. But in person we still disagree on almost everything.”

“He seemed plenty sweet at dinner,” Fen pointed out.

“Yeah, and that was a surprise too,” Eliot sighed. “It’s just gonna be hard to go from working together to competing again.”

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” Fen asked.

“What else would it be?” Eliot crossed the room to fluff a Santa pillow that had fallen a little flat.

“Oh El, are you really gonna make me say it?” Fen sounded equal parts annoyed and amused.

“What?” Eliot really had no idea what his sister was getting at.

“You like him!”

“Of course I like him. He’s a nice guy when you get past his weird hangups about Christmas.” Eliot removed the Santa pillow entirely and sat in the chair instead.

“This is becoming more than just a Secret Santa thing. You’re falling for him,” Fen said in her blunt but gentle way.

Eliot stood up in a rush. “I am not.”

“Are you sure?” Fen teased.

“Okay, I’ve got work to do.” Eliot suddenly had all the time and focus in the world. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Fen said goodbye with a giggle and Eliot sat down at his desk, determined to take his mind off what she’d just said and to make sure he got the job.

==

It was Friday night and everyone at the agency was excited about the coming weekend. Eliot had just gotten off a call with FTB, and so he was a little annoyed but he was also happy he could forget about the agency for a couple days and just have some fun.

Alice was standing in the middle of the office. “ Don’t forget about the meetup for ice skating at the rec center tonight, who’s coming?”

Eliot grabbed Margo and they raised their hands. Other people around the room nodded and called out their acceptance of the invitation. Quentin was standing at his desk, putting a messenger bag over one shoulder. He looked like he was ignoring them, the way he always seemed to be when they were planning an outing.

“You wanna carpool?” he asked Margo. Suddenly, Quentin was at his side.

“I’d like to come,” he said. Alice smiled at him, while Margo gaped.

“Are you really going to hang out with us after work, voluntarily?” Margo asked him.

Quentin ran his hands through his hair. A strand had come loose, and hung over one eye. “Is that okay? It sounds fun.”

“Okay.” Eliot wrapped his arm around Margo’s shoulders. “We’ll see you there in about an hour.”

“Wonderful!” Alice clapped her hands and they all headed out to their cars.

At the rink, Margo and Eliot were sharing a bench and lacing into their skates. Eliot hadn’t been skating since high school, but he jumped at the chance. Margo was a secret little ice princess and even brought out an old pair of skates to use instead of the rentals.

They finished getting their skates on and were making the final adjustments before heading out to the rink. The air in the ice arena was cold, and Eliot was glad he was still wearing his long coat and a new purple scarf.

“Do we really think Coldwater will come?” Margo said, turning toward the entrance. Most of the Brakebills people had already shown up, and were skating circles around the rink. Some like Alice and Julia, skated with relative ease. Others like Penny and Kady, were clinging to the side like their lives depended on it.

“He said he would,” Eliot said, wiggling his ankles in the tight skates.

“What’s gotten into him?” Margo wondered.

“Well, me,” Eliot said, making Margo snort and reach for his arm. “I suggested he needed to hang out with the group more.”

“You or Secret Santa?” She asked with a knowing look as they stumbled from the carpet to the ice.

“Both,” Eliot said, carefully stepping out and taking a practiced slide.

After a few laps he was starting to feel better about his technique. He held hands with Margo as they circled the rink, and she grabbed his arm as they passed the entrance the next time around. There on a bench was Quentin lacing up what looked like a pair of hockey skates. Margo poked him and skated away, and Eliot made his way back to the edge of the rink.

He remained on the ice but waited as Quentin clomped over in his skates. “You came!”

“I said I would,” Quentin said. Eliot took a moment to notice he was dressed in a very soft looking olive green sweater and a pair of jeans with a rip in the knee. His brown hair was down, instead of the tidy bun he usually kept it in. He seemed relaxed and kind of sexy, if Eliot was being honest with himself.

“You wanna hit the ice?” Eliot said, motioning for Quentin to join him.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Quentin said. He didn’t move from his rigid stance, just off to the right of the door to the rink.

“I take it you’re not a professional.”

“Far from it. This is my first time ice skating,” Quentin admitted. Eliot held out his gloved hand, and Quentin took a step towards the ice before accepting.

Eliot helped him step onto the ice, even as his skates shook and he gripped tightly to the side of the rink. Quentin was like a newborn foal, barely able to stay upright, and his hold on Eliot’s hands went from light to crushing in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve got you,” Eliot said, resisting the urge to laugh. Quentin’s expression of concentration, determination and fear reminded him somewhat of Fray when she was first trying to ride her bike without training wheels. He skated slowly, leading Quentin, helping him around the big turns, and steadying him when his skates were about to slip out from under him.

Alice came skating up beside them and grinned at the two of them, “You’re doing great. I’m glad you came, Quentin.”

She was wearing a cute little red dress with a flowy skirt over what appeared to be black tights, and he caught Quentin checking her out as she skated past to rejoin the other women from work.

When his gaze went back to Eliot, he let go of Quentin’s hand. “I think you can take it from here. You’ve gotten so much better in just the last few laps. I want to go catch up with Margo.”

“Yeah of course,” Quentin reflexively grabbed at a hand that wasn’t there as his skates wobbled, but he caught himself. “Sorry to keep you.”

Eliot shrugged off the apology and picked up a little speed but stayed within Quentin’s earshot. “You’re a quick learner.”

==

After skating for a few hours, people were starting to get tired and slowly his coworkers began to leave. Alice, Quentin, Margo and Eliot all got off the ice at once. Margo and Eliot were gonna go out for cocktails, Alice had a family thing, and well Quentin just seemed to lose interest once he saw they were off the ice.

The four of them sat two by two on benches as they unlaced their skates. Margo and Alice on one bench, Quentin and Eliot opposite on the other side.

He was in the middle of a difficult knot on his skate when he saw Quentin raise his head and make eye contact with Alice.

“Was the ice skating your idea?” he asked.

Alice nodded and began putting on her shoes. “It’s my favorite thing to do at Christmas. It puts me in the holiday mood.”

Eliot shot his eyes to Margo to see her reaction, but she had her nose in her phone. He pretended not to be listening as he tucked the laces into his skates and put on his loafers.

“You’re really good, like you could be in the ice capades,” Quentin said.

Alice laughed and played with her hair. Eliot was about to lose his mind.

“I’ve just been doing it since I was a kid. My whole family loves ice skating,” she closed the locker and shrugged on her coat. “Thanks for coming everybody.”

Eliot just smiled at her and remained on the bench.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” she said to Quentin specifically. That got Margo to look up and they held one of their trademark “eye” conversations. He could tell she was under the same impression he was, Quentin liked Alice. He only went ice skating with them because of her.

Eliot took her hand and pulled her toward the exit, neither saying goodbye to Quentin who was still struggling to get his skates off.

Eliot ignored his phone for the rest of the night. He had fun with Margo and it was nice to forget about work, about Quentin and Secret Santa for awhile. It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed, putting his phone on the charger, that he noticed he had a new message.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

I think I’ve found my calling. I’m a natural born skater. I think I’m gonna quit the ad game and start my training for the Olympics.

You saw me there. What do you think? Am I the next Scott Hamilton?

Eliot sat down on the edge of his bed and laughed.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

Maybe I saw you and maybe I didn’t.

Quentin’s reply came quickly, even though it was past midnight. Either he couldn’t sleep or he’d been out all night like Eliot. Odds seemed to be in favor of the first option.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

Okay, I’ll play along.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

Sounds like you had a nice time. Are you glad you went?

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

I am.

Eliot thought about ending the conversation there and going to bed, but the drinks and the excitement had gotten to him and he was feeling bold. He took the phone and leaned up against his pillows, then sent another message.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why don’t you like Christmas?

Eliot wasn’t sure he’d get a response at all, let alone that night, but only a couple minutes later his phone flashed again.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

My dad passed away when I was in my early twenties. My mom never liked Christmas. She’s a lawyer and works all the time. Most holidays she spent on her phone or at the office. We don’t talk much anymore. She was disappointed when I turned down law school.

Eliot wasn’t sure what to say, but he felt he had to say something, so he sent a simple, “I’m sorry.”

Quentin’s reply came a few minutes later, just when Eliot figured he’d gone to sleep.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

I don’t think I’ve ever shared that with anyone. Thanks for emailing me. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to talk to.

Eliot swallowed the quickly forming lump in his throat and replied one final time.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

You’ve got one. Whenever you need it.

==

The next morning Eliot was having coffee on the steps at Fen’s house. He’d promised to take Fray to the Christmas fair, and so there he was, watching Fray build a snowman while he and Fen chatted before they left.

“I can’t believe he went skating with you,” Fen said, a big smile on her face. “That’s so romantic.”

“Yeah, sure, he checked out the blonde girl from QA the entire time,” Eliot said, not quite looking at her but watching Fray pack snow into a misshapen ball.

She gave him a little elbow bump. “Do I have to remind you that it’s possible he doesn’t just like blondes?”

“I still don’t know what he likes,” Eliot said, wiping coffee from his mouth. “I know hardly anything about him. Other than he doesn’t like cookies, he’s a terrible ice skater, he always orders a muffin from the coffee shop and forgets to eat it, and he drops his wallet almost every time he pays. None of that gives me anything to go on for what to buy him for Christmas.”

Fen was just beaming at him, and the look on her face really made Eliot want to slug her and pull her hair. But they were grown-ups now. He’d have to figure out something else to get back at her.

“Fray, are you ready to go?” He picked himself up off the porch and headed over to where Fray was putting the final touches on her snowman.

It had rocks for eyes, a carrot nose and a mouth made out of a red ribbon. It looked like it might fall over at any minute but Eliot praised Fray for her building skills anyway.

“The snowman is missing something!” Fray decided. “He needs a hat or he’s gonna get cold.”

“Honey, snowmen are supposed to be cold,” Fen said gently. Fray was unconvinced.

“Mommy, he’s gonna freeze out here, help him!”

“I don’t have a hat, but I do have this,” Eliot said, unwrapping the thick wool scarf he was wearing. He already felt colder but it was worth it to make her happy. He helped Fray wrap it around the snowman’s neck, then they said goodbye to Fen and headed out to the craft fair.

Chapter Text

Quentin

Quentin didn’t sleep that well. After his exchange with Secret Santa, he’d stayed up a few more hours until exhaustion took over and he finally dozed until early morning. He didn’t have any weekend plans, and after having a small breakfast of toaster waffles and coffee, he found himself itching for something to do.

He wasn’t sure why the Christmas fair came to mind as quickly as it did, but the more he thought about it, the better an idea it seemed. He dressed for the cold weather, throwing on a sweatshirt, his thicker jeans and just for the hell of it, he grabbed his lone scarf. It made him think of Eliot as he wound it around his neck. Which lead to another good idea.

However, after arriving at the fair, he was disheartened that when he found the stall with the scarves and hats, the blue scarf with the big snowflakes was missing.

He even asked the shopkeeper who apologized and told him it had been sold the day before. Quentin left the stall dejected and ready to try again at a different shop when he saw Eliot and his niece walking toward him. Well, Eliot was walking, Fray was sprinting.

“Q!” she cried, grabbing his arm with her pink mitten covered hand. “I’m gonna see Santa!”

“Oh really?” he said smiling down at her and then glancing up to see Eliot.

“What are you doing here?” Eliot asked. “Isn’t this place a little too Christmassy for you?”

“I had a craving for those cookies,” Quentin said with a well practiced shrug.

“I knew it.”

“Do you want to see him too?” Fray said to Quentin. “You need to tell him what you want for Christmas!”

“I don’t want to get in the way,” Quentin said, feeling a little unsure but Eliot shook his head.

“Why don’t you tag along?” he said. Fray didn’t let go of Quentin and started heading towards the Santa section of the fair.

Eliot turned to follow Fray who grabbed his other hand. Quentin just went along with it. He knew there was not much reason to argue with the young girl. The three of them found their way to the santa line, and Fray talked animatedly about Christmas and Santa and everything she was looking forward to. Quentin and Eliot barely had a chance to even speak to each other, but they kept looking at each other over Fray’s head and smiling.

“Okay, it’s your turn,” Eliot said, letting go of Fray’s hand as she scampered up to sit on Santa’s lap. Quentin and Eliot stood in front of the chair as Fray was talking to Santa.

“Would you like a picture?” One of the helper elves asked Eliot.

“Yeah totally,” he said.

“And how about one of the whole family?” she added motioning at him and Quentin.

“No, we’re not,” Quentin started to say.

“Oh, come on Q and Uncle El! I want you in my picture,” Fray shouted from Santa’s lap.

“Do you mind?” Eliot asked.

Quentin just said no and walked around to hover next to Fray, while Eliot took the other side. He did his best to smile and not ruin the picture.

“Everybody say candy cane!” The photographer shouted.

After Eliot paid for the picture and Quentin helped Fray off Santa’s lap, they took her over to the petting zoo, and she eagerly ran up to the food dispenser.

“Can I have some quarters?”

“Sure Munchkin.” Eliot dug around in his pockets and frowned. “I don’t have any.”

“Wait.” Quentin got into his own pockets and found 75 cents floating around, which he placed into her outstretched hand. She thanked him and ran to the gate.

“That’s really nice of you to take her to this,” Quentin said, as they watched Fray turn the crank and grab a handful of food.

“I don’t mind, it gives Fen a break and it gives me something fun to do,” Eliot replied.

“You two seem really close.”

“Yeah, her dad isn’t in the picture, so I’ve been helping take care of her from the very beginning.” Eliot waved at Fray as she happily fed the reindeer and patted it’s nose.

A cold breeze shuddered through and Quentin noticed Eliot shivering. His neck was bare, which Quentin took a moment to notice, and when he did, he realized how odd Eliot looked without a scarf.

“You look a little cold,” he noted. “You’re missing something.”

Eliot felt his neck. “I gave my scarf to a snowman.”

‘Here.” Quentin was already reaching for his scarf, even as Eliot was trying to tell him not to. “Let me.”

He reached up and wound the scarf once around Eliot’s neck, bringing their faces closer together. Eliot was smiling in a way that didn’t look like his Christmas smile, and Quentin thought maybe he was wearing a similar look on his face. Their faces tilted towards each other and-

“Uncle El!” Fray came bounding between them and they broke apart. “Can we go make ornaments?”

“That sounds good. You wanna go make an ornament with us, Q?”

Quentin felt something inside him pop when Eliot used the nickname. It had been so long since anyone had and he kind of liked it. He looked from Eliot’s smiling face to Fray’s and the decision was easily made.

==

Monday morning Quentin got to work early and ambushed Eliot at his desk. He proudly dropped it on Eliot’s keyboard, before he even had a moment to boot up his computer.

“Good morning,” Eliot said, taking a moment to yawn before addressing the pile of papers in front of him. “What’s this?”

“Our pitch!”

“Our pitch?” Eliot fingered the papers carefully, and Quentin decided to ignore the way his voice wavered. The pitch was Quentin’s to begin with. Eliot was really just there to zhuzh it up.

“Yeah, after the Christmas fair, I couldn’t stop thinking about reindeer and Santa's sleigh,” Quentin explained, turning the page to show Eliot the outline he’d written.

“What does Santa need to get around on Christmas Eve?”

“Magic?” Eliot sounded like he wasn’t following.

“GPS! Which is one of the new features of the Evergreen phone!” Quentin couldn’t help but smile. The idea just seemed perfect. It was Christmassy but still focused on the phone. It was the kind of thing Fogg would be into, and the kind of thing the Evergreen CEO would eat up.

He just hoped it would be enough. Fogg had brought him into the office to tell him about the new Creative Director position, and he’d really pushed the idea of Quentin showing more enthusiasm around the office, and working well on a team. Like Eliot, he’d added, also letting it slip that Eliot was another candidate for the job. Quentin felt strange about being forced to work with Eliot now that they were in line for the same job. He’d spent so long before accepting Eliot’s help, and now he felt like he was back to needing to prove himself first.

“Okay.” Eliot was still looking over the first few pages. “Let me have a chance to check this out and then I can give you my notes.”

“Oh no need.” Quentin swept the mockups into the folder. “Let’s show it to Fogg this afternoon before we show it to Evergreen.”

Eliot looked like he wanted to say something, but he just closed his mouth and turned his attention to his computer. “Sounds good, I’ll book a meeting with him.”

“Great!” Quentin was about to race over to his desk when Eliot called to him.

“Hey Q! Fray wanted you to have this.”

He pulled a picture from his battered messenger bag. It was the picture from the Christmas fair with the two of them flanking Santa and Fray. Eliot had written their names on the back and dated the photo.

“Thanks,” Quentin said. He smiled at the picture and put it in his briefcase, near the top so it would be visible every time he opened it. He had such good feelings about this pitch.

==

Fogg was making little clicks as he turned each page of the proposal. Quentin was watching his every motion, while Eliot seemed a little less concerned. He’d been acting a little upset since he got into work, and Quentin had a hunch why.

Fogg made another click and turned to the last page, grabbed all the pages and slipped them back into the folder.

Quentin was practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. Fogg could be hard to read, there were times he’d act like he hated a project then boast about it the next day. He tended to keep a neutral face most times.

“I can tell you worked hard on it, but there’s something missing,” he said, handing the folder back to Quentin.

“We don’t have much time left,” Quentin protested. “You don’t think it’s ready?”

“Not for Evergreen. It’s too much like your last pitch. It just needs more heart,” Fogg said. “It’s almost there.”

Quentin tried his best to remain professional, but he really just wanted to throw the failed pitch in the shredder, quit the company and take the first train out of town. Instead, he set the folder on his lap and nodded silently at his boss.

Eliot and Quentin were dismissed and Quentin took a moment outside Fogg’s office to breathe in and fight the urge to run like hell in embarrassment. What was he thinking? He should have let Eliot look at it first. He should have--

“Hey,” Eliot put a hand on his shoulder, grabbing his attention and pulling him out of becoming his own personal punching bag. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ll work doubly hard this week.”

Eliot’s face looked calm and collected and he almost seemed relieved by their situation. “We’ll get it.”

Quentin didn’t trust himself to speak so he just nodded at Eliot and let him go. When he returned to his desk, he saw a light flashing on his phone. He had a burst of excitement when he thought it might be a message from Secret Santa, but instead it was a missed call from his mom. He considered calling her back, but he knew that with his mother, they’d probably just play phone tag until New Year’s eve. He decided to try something else this time.

Quentin checked his watch. His mother typically worked 9 to 6 which meant she usually left the office around 7. He stood outside the office of “Coldwater, Grossman and Webster” and watched his breath create fog in the air. He’d forgotten to get his scarf back from Eliot, besides it looked better on him anyway. It was 7 on the dot. He shuffled his feet, taking a look at the old brick building, so familiar even under the light dusting of snow. At 7:06 he saw her, coming down the stairs in her old brown coat, wearing black boots with thick blocky heels. She walked right past him, which he’d expected, since he was lurking in the shadows like some kind of goblin. He waited until she was down a couple before he took a step to follow her.

“Hey Mom.”

Karen Coldwater stopped in her tracks. As she turned Quentin started to worry that maybe she’d call security but her face softened.

“Oh hello Quentin,” she said. She took a step up so they were at the same height.

“I’m sorry I didn’t return your call,” he said. “I just thought since I was in the area…”

“You were?” Karen looked at him with a slight air of suspicion. “I thought Brakebills was on the other end of town.”

Quentin did his best to keep smiling. “Do you have plans tonight? I was thinking we could--”

Karen’s cell phone began to ring. Quentin cringed. She hadn’t changed the ringtone in years and he’d grown to hate that noise. He waited for his mother to answer but she only looked at the phone and then grimaced before sending the call to voicemail.

“I just thought maybe we could talk about Christmas plans,” he said, amending his earlier idea. He’d wanted to take her out to dinner, but he felt like that might be too big a request.

“You know I don’t really care,” she said. “I’ll be spending Christmas Eve with Molly’s family anyway.”

Quentin’s parents had divorced during his teenage years, and then his mother had started dating a woman shortly before his father died. Quentin had no problem with his mother’s girlfriend, other than the fact he didn’t really feel like he belonged there. He wasn’t even sure how his mother had time for a new relationship when she barely had time for him.

“I thought we could have dinner at your place, maybe exchange some gifts and--”

His mother took a step down. “Sure, I’m planning on bringing some work home, trying to get caught up. So I probably won’t be able to cook. Maybe we could pick something up.”

Quentin felt his jaw clench. “If you’re going to be working--”

Karen’s phone rang again, and this time she answered it. Quentin stood there, moving to the side to let some people pass as his mother had a short but terse conversation. He didn’t bother paying attention. All her work calls were like that.

“Sorry, work has been crazy,” she said as she finished the call and put her phone back into her pocket.

“Work has been really busy for me,” Quentin said. He started to take the steps down to the parking lot and his mother followed. “I just landed the big Evergreen Mobile account. The CEO is a little tough but I know that my pitch will be perfect.”

Karen stepped over a puddle and headed toward her car. It was the unassuming looking Altima parked near the front.

“Where was this confidence when you were in school?” she asked.

Quentin sucked in a breath and resisted the urge to get defensive.

“You know, you would have been such a good lawyer. I know that your father always said that you weren’t the type but I think--”

“Mom, this really is neither the time nor the place to get into this.” Quentin sidestepped his mother as she fumbled for her keys. “I think we’re both busy and I hope we’ll have time to spend together for Christmas.”

He heard her car honk as she located the keyfob. “Have a good night.”

He didn’t look back as he stomped towards the back of the parking lot where he’d left his own car. He should have known talking to his mother in any capacity was a recipe for disaster. He just kept moving one foot in front of the next until he was there. Then he turned to watch his mother’s car pulling out of the parking lot before he finally slipped inside his own.

Chapter Text

Eliot

Eliot was over at Fen’s again. He’d been there practically every night this month but he didn’t mind. The only reason they didn’t live together was because during that lone week that Eliot had a boyfriend, Fray walked in on them in bed together. She wasn’t tall enough to see over the bed frame at the time, but Fen had asked Eliot to get a place of his own the next day anyway.

Fen had been doing some after school parent teacher conferences, so she’d brought home take-out from the dim sum restaurant down the street. Fray was doing her best to get lo-mein into her mouth and Eliot was picking apart a barbecue pork bun.

Eliot paused between bites of bun, trying to balance his chopsticks. “Quentin just did the entire pitch over the weekend by himself.”

“I thought you were supposed to work together, that was the whole point.” Fen had given up on her own set of chopsticks and was eating her broccoli beef with a plastic fork.

“That was the whole point.” Eliot chewed his food and swallowed, then took a sip of water to clear his throat. “But he was so excited. Like, he was so determined and confident and I didn’t want to be the one to rain on his parade.”

Eliot kept it to himself that he’d also found Quentin’s sudden assertiveness extremely sexy, but he knew his sister would take a tidbit like that and run it into the ground.

“I knew the pitch wasn’t right, and I should have said something but I kinda just wanted to let Fogg tell him instead.”

“Hopefully he’ll take that same determination and confidence and put it into working with you instead.” Fen was every bit the optimist. “And make sure no matter how excited he is, you get your part in.”

“Sure, sure.” Eliot rolled his eyes and looked across the table to see Fray eating her noodles with her hands. “Munchkin, let’s try a fork please.”

After dinner Eliot hung around long enough to help Fen put away the leftovers and load the dishwasher. He was starting to get ready to leave when Fen stopped him and ushered him into her room.

“Fray and I wanted to give this to you now, an early Christmas present.”

Fray presented him with a rather large box, wrapped in silver and gold and topped with an oversized bow. Eliot knew better than to say he couldn’t accept it. When Fen gave him a gift she meant it.

Inside the box was a gorgeous leather briefcase. The buckles shone in the light and the brown leather was soft to the touch. He knew just by looking that it must have cost Fen a fortune. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed, then bent down to kiss Fray on the cheek.

“You two spoil me,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

“We’ve all seen that bag you carry to work. It’s falling apart and it’s not the kind of thing a Creative Director should be carrying,” Fen said, as he lifted the bag from the tissue paper and started opening the various pockets and zippers. There was a silver nameplate inside, engraved with his initials, EJW. Everything about it seemed luxurious and special and Eliot felt like he might burst with happiness.

Eliot pulled the strap over one shoulder to see how it felt. “I haven’t gotten the promotion yet.”

Fen just waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter, you still deserve it.”

Eliot was on a high for the rest of the evening. He took the long way home, and slipped down a few random streets to check out the Christmas lights. When he got back to his house, he felt relaxed and satisfied.

He was in the middle of popping some popcorn and settling down to watch White Christmas when he realized he hadn’t checked his phone since before dinner. He set it down on the counter while the microwave ran.

He had an email from Quentin that had come in about an hour ago.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

I saw my mom today. It didn’t go well.

I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. I wish she could just be proud of me.

Eliot’s heart sank and he almost burned his popcorn. He knew too well the feeling of disappointing your parents. He’d been lucky to have other supportive family members to make up for that.

He took a deep breath and wrote Quentin back.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

I’m sure she’s proud of you, even if she doesn’t show it.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

She’s always gonna be mad that I chose not to follow in her footsteps. She always hated that I was more like Dad than her.

Eliot opened his popcorn and poured it into a bowl, then stood in the kitchen reading Quentin’s message and thinking. He wanted to help Quentin but he wasn’t sure how.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

Maybe you could focus on the things you two have in common instead of the things you don’t? What’s something you both like to do?

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

When I was younger, before she got her firm, we used to put up easels in the garage and fingerpaint. She used to love art and took me to all the museums.

Eliot felt a rush of relief. This was something he could work with. He carried his bowl of popcorn and a large glass of lemonade to his couch and made himself comfortable. But instead of starting the movie, he kicked up his feet and replied to the last message.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

So start there. You know, I was never that close to my Grandma when I was young. She was a farmer and she used to have this incredible garden. She was a natural and she could grow anything. So in an effort to get to know her, I started helping her in the garden. That next year we harvested these huge crops of tomatoes, squash, carrots and these gigantic pumpkins, I grew to love it.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

So you’re a farmer? I can add that to the list of things I know about you.

Eliot groaned and wrote him back.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

Yes, unfortunately. When I grew up I was expected to carry on the family farm, but I knew that wasn’t really my thing. I was so upset to disappoint her, but she just told me she understood and that she knew I needed to be my own person. In the end, all that mattered to her was that I was happy.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

Thank you for helping me with this.

Eliot took a big gulp of his drink and wrote his reply, just a quick “anytime.” He didn’t expect Quentin to keep going since they’d already shared so much personal stuff that evening so he set his phone down and finally started the movie.

But another message popped up less than five minutes later.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

On another note, I was wondering if there’s any Christmas thing you haven’t done?

Eliot let the movie play and filled his mouth with popcorn as he considered. He’d done most big Christmas things. If not recently, then as a child. The answer came to him as he took in the Christmas themed decor all around the room.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

I’ve never ridden in a one horse open sleigh. Or any sleigh for that matter.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

I’m a little surprised. Even I’ve taken a sleigh ride.

Eliot laughed to himself and put the phone away to enjoy his movie. He got caught up in the music and the story and forgot to check his phone again until the next morning.

He was packing up his new bag, throwing on Quentin’s scarf. He found it odd Quentin hadn’t asked for it back, so he was planning on bringing it to work just in case. He admired the way his luxe bag looked against his coat and his gloves when he noticed that he had a new email that had come in late last night.

To: Secret Santa

From: Quentin Coldwater

Santa, I think we should meet.

==

Eliot invited Margo to go to lunch with him but they both knew what it really was. It was so he could bring her up to speed on the whole Quentin situation. They went across town to grab sandwiches, and since the snow wasn’t super thick, they walked them back to the office.

“He wants to meet,” Eliot said.

“Isn’t that cheating?” Margo said. “Secret Santa’s still a week away.”

“I don’t know,” Eliot frowned. “Maybe I should tell him. We’ve gotten really close and I feel weird leading him on. Like if he knew the truth maybe he wouldn’t be telling me all those things.”

“Fine, then tell him.” Margo stood at a street corner and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Even in her heeled boots, he still had over half a foot on her.

“Well...I would but what we have through email is really special. I’m afraid that he’ll be disappointed.”

“Oh El, he’s not gonna be disappointed. He likes you!” Margo launched off the curb as the light changed and Eliot hurried to catch up to her.

“He likes Secret Santa. He doesn’t think I’m Secret Santa.” Eliot sighed and pulled Quentin’s scarf up around his chin. “I started this whole thing as a way to figure out a present for him. Now I’m in way too deep.”

“Just stop being a chickenshit and tell him,” Margo said as they arrived at the office. He held the door for her as she stomped snow off her boots. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

==

Quentin

Quentin had been sitting at his desk for about thirty minutes. Eliot had gone to lunch with his friend Margo, and most other people at the office were at lunch too. Quentin had eaten his sandwich in two bites and now he was pretending to work but really he was watching someone else’s desk.

Alice had been eating lunch in the break room. He’d seen her there most days, usually eating something like leftover soup, or maybe a small Tupperware container of salad. She carried a blue and black chevron patterned lunch box and she always rinsed her containers with soap before packing them away.

Now, he watched as Alice walked over to her desk. She kept it neat, but she did have a couple knickknacks scattered around. He was waiting for her to see the present he’d left for her. He was rather proud of himself. He’d found the ice skating polar bear snow globe at the coffee shop he and Eliot liked to work at, and he’d grabbed it that morning while getting his coffee.

He watched as Alice sat down, flipped back her blonde hair, then discovered the globe. He looked down and started typing gibberish as she scanned the room to look for the culprit. Quentin thought he could feel her eyes on his forehead, but he just kept typing, pretending to be very involved in whatever he was working on.

When he finally looked up, Alice was sitting at her desk, writing in that black notebook she always carried, but she was smiling. Quentin smiled to himself as well, and deleted the email he’d been typing.

Eliot returned from lunch just a few minutes later. He walked over to Quentin’s desk and handed him an iced tea from the sandwich place he and Margo always went to.

“I don’t have any cash to pay you back,” Quentin said.

“You get the next one,” Eliot said. “I booked a meeting room upstairs.”

“Okay,” Quentin grabbed the drink and followed him. The meeting room was nice because it was off from the cubicles and had a wide table where they could spread out. Eliot sat down and started getting out his binders. Quentin grabbed his own folder and sat it down in front of them.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Eliot said. Quentin stopped flipping through his notes. The tone of his voice was strange and he seemed almost upset. Quentin’s heart sank and he knew what the problem must be. He had to be upset about the failed pitch. He must have been furious with Quentin, and Quentin couldn’t blame him.

“I know,” Quentin said, doing his best to look him in the eye.

“You know?” Eliot looked incredibly surprised.

“Yeah, I know. You’re upset about the pitch, and I know it’s my fault. I botched it up,” Quentin pulled out his legal notebook and set it down on the table.

“So I worked a little during lunch, and I have three new great ideas we can show Fogg,” Quentin said.

Eliot cleared his throat. “I think we need to talk about them together before we do any other pitches. I was brought in to help you, and my name is on the campaign now, so I want it to be representative of me.”

Quentin was taken aback, but he also found Eliot’s assertiveness appealing. He nodded and slid the page with his notes closer to him.

“Yeah, let’s finish everything together.”

“Together,” Eliot echoed. “Deal?”

He held out a hand and Quentin smiled and shook. “Deal.”

Eliot reached over to grab his bag. Quentin noticed that he was no longer carrying the beat-up messenger bag he’d been using for as long as they’d known each other. Now he had a sleek and shiny brown leather bag. It was larger than the old bag and it currently looked a little overstuffed.

“I have some magazines we can look at for inspiration,” Eliot said, digging inside.

“Do you always travel with a Paw Patrol firetruck?” Quentin said with a little laugh as Eliot pulled it out of his bag.

“Oh you caught me,” Eliot said dumping it on the table. “I just picked it up for Fray. It was the number one thing on her Christmas list.

“She’ll love that,” Quentin said, admiring the box. “Nice bag by the way.”

“Wait a second,” Eliot froze. “Look at this.”

He pulled out a few more papers from his new bag until he found a piece of folded construction paper. He handed it over to Quentin who unfolded it and smoothed it out.

Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl this year. Please bring me

a firetruck.

A barbie pizza maker

A hello kitty backpack

Love,

Fray Waugh

Fray had written the message in red crayon and she had drawn a messy but recognizable santa and reindeer along the bottom of the paper. Quentin flashed back to playing with Fray on the floor and he couldn’t help but smile. She was such a sweet little girl.

“Our pitch!” Eliot said. “Number one thing on your Christmas list!”

“I think I get it,” Quentin said, turning to Eliot, catching on to the idea. “But what if we combine the idea with the GPS…”

“Or the twenty four hour assistance?”

Eliot and Quentin bounced ideas for the rest of the work day. They were both so excited and jazzed about their idea they couldn’t wait to show Mr. Fogg, who immediately told them to have their mock-ups made. Then it was just a matter of showing it to the CEO of Evergreen mobile.

==

“We open on a man, tirelessly shoveling snow outside his house. A little girl looks out the window, worrying about her father,” Quentin said. Eliot held the other side of the poster as they explained the concept of their ad.

“She watches, thinking of ways to help her dad,” Eliot said, turning down the poster to another picture of the girl.

“Suddenly she has an idea and races to her room,” Quentin said. “She picks up paper and a crayon, and writes a letter to Santa.” He glanced at Fogg and the CEO of Evergreen who both wore neutral expressions. He concentrated instead on the ad campaign and waited for Eliot to take the next part.

“She looks up to the calendar on the wall with a Christmas countdown, and she sees that only 2 days are left until Christmas. Her letter to Santa won’t make it in time.”

“How’s she gonna reach Santa?” Quentin chimed in.

“The new Evergreen A5 cell phone,” Eliot answered, smooth as could be. “She calls the operator on her phone and asks for the number to Santa’s workshop.”

Quentin flipped the board to a new page. “So then we cut to Christmas morning.”

“We see the little girl in her nightgown racing towards the biggest gift under the tree,” Eliot said.

“Focus on the tag, it reads: to Katie’s dad, from Santa,” Quentin added. “Her dad rips off the paper and reveals...”

Eliot flipped to a new page. “A brand new snowblower!”

Quentin looked over at Fogg and the Evergreen CEO. They wore identical expressions of interest, and it looked like Fogg might be about to smile. Quentin knew they had it right this time.

He picked up the pitch. “Her father laughs, touched, and gives her a hug.”

They turned to the final page in their mock-up together.

“Cut to your Evergreen logo,” Eliot finished. “With a stylish script above that reads, Happy Holidays from our family to yours.”

Quentin wasn’t sure if Eliot was holding his breath as much as he was, but they both looked at the two men in the boardroom together, waiting for the response. Quentin closed his eyes to center himself.

“I love it,” the Evergreen CEO said. “It’s exactly what we want.”

Quentin relaxed and let go of the final board. The Evergreen CEO stood up and shook each of their hands and then turned to Fogg.

“Let’s fast track this, can we finish the deal in your office,” he said.

“Of course, I’ll have the papers drawn up immediately.” Fogg got up from the desk and gave them each an approving nod. “Good job you two.”

Quentin and Eliot waited until Fogg had closed the door before they sprang into excitement. They high fived each other and then Quentin, lost in the happiness of the moment, grabbed Eliot around the shoulders and hugged him, catching him by surprise but then Eliot squeezed back. When they separated their faces were extremely close together, on instinct Quentin found himself closing his eyes and leaning closer until Eliot pulled away.

“Good job partner!” he said, smile big and eyes wide.

“Yeah, you too, partner,” Quentin said in the same tone. Having the project done felt like an immense weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt so free and actually found himself starting to look forward to Christmas this year.

Quentin rode the high of success all day, and he couldn’t stop smiling. He noticed other people in the office coming by his desk more often than normal to stop by and congratulate him, or to just walk by and give him a greeting or introduce themselves. A couple times he looked up and saw Eliot watching him and they just stopped to smile at each other.

He was still in his good mood when he came across Alice on his way out of the building. She came up beside him and patted him on the arm.

“Hey, I heard about the Evergreen campaign. Mr. Fogg has been in a wonderful mood all afternoon. Great job!”

“Thanks,” Quentin said. He fell into step beside her as they got into the elevator. “Can I walk with you?”

“Sure,” she said, looking a little pink but covering it up. He waited as she put on her coat and a pair of what appeared to be knitted gloves.

“Are you ready for Christmas?” he asked.

“I spent all night last night trying to find the perfect Christmas tree,” she told him. “I couldn’t find one that wasn’t too skinny or too full. Every year I say I’m gonna just stop and buy a fake one, but then every year I give in and get another real one. The branches are a mess, but I just love it.”

Quentin waited for her to go first as the door opened on the ground floor.

“You’re not really big on Christmas, are you?” Alice asked as they headed towards the exit.

“I think I’m coming around on it,” he said.

“Oh it’s snowing,” Alice said, pausing to lift her hood up. Quentin helped her tuck in her hair and she looked up shyly from under her glasses. Her eyes were a lovely shade of blue, and Quentin forgot they were standing in the lobby of his office, with people passing in both directions.

“I was wondering if you were busy tonight?” He asked. It was time to just go for it. Time to take his shot and hope it panned out for the best.

“Nope,” she looked up at him hopefully and he knew he hadn’t made a mistake.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight? We can celebrate?” Quentin asked. He saw what he thought was Eliot out of the corner of his eye, but he was gone before Quentin could acknowledge him. He turned his attention to Alice who seemed happy.

“That sounds nice,” she said.

“Okay, Cannella’s at 7?” he suggested, and they finished setting up the details as they walked to their cars.

Quentin felt like nothing was going to slow him down. He had a date, he’d finished the proposal, now he just needed to figure out what he was going to get Eliot for Secret Santa.

He rode the wave of enthusiasm all the way to a little flower shop about a block from the restaurant. His dad always told him it was nice to bring a date a bouquet. He was paying for the bunch of tulips when his phone beeped at him.

He tucked the bouquet under his arm and read the message.

To: Quentin Coldwater

From: Secret Santa

I think you should tell your mom how you feel. She might surprise you.

Quentin checked the time on his phone. It was only 6:45 and he had made a reservation already. He could walk back to the restaurant and have plenty of time. He kept his phone in hand and began walking, but first he dialed another number.

“Karen Coldwater’s office, this is Janet, how may I direct your call?” came a pleasant sounding female voice.

“Oh hi Janet, I was hoping I could speak to Karen, this is her son,” he started.

“Oh my, is this Quentin?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Quentin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“She talks about you all the time, I feel like I already know you by now. It’s just great to put a voice to the name.” He heard Janet switch gears and become the professional again. “Unfortunately, she’s still at the courthouse. Would you like me to tell her you called?”

“That’s okay, I’ll try her another time. Thank you, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” she chirped and they both hung up.

Quentin finished his walk in a bit of a daze. When he arrived at the restaurant, Alice was just coming inside and he offered her the flowers. She’d put on makeup, he noted, and she smelled like roses.

“Thank you,” she said, bringing the bouquet to her face. “They’re lovely.”

“Right this way,” the hostess said, and Quentin felt brave enough to put his arm around Alice as they walked to their table.

Chapter Text

Eliot

Eliot’s victory dinner had turned into Eliot’s heartbreak dinner. He’d invited Fen and Margo over for champagne and cheesecake and it had led into Eliot telling the story of the pitch and how he overhead Quentin asking Alice out to dinner.

“I just thought maybe, after we finished the pitch he was looking at me like he wanted to kiss me,” Eliot told them, staring at his second glass of champagne like it held the answers. “But then I see him with Alice, and he looked so happy and she looked so into him. Maybe I was trying to be Secret Santa, but instead I was cupid?”

“Oh honey,” Margo said, patting him on the arm. “I still think he likes you. He’s just being an idiot.”

Fen laughed. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

Eliot took a bite of cheesecake and played with his fork for a minute. “I was going to, but then we started talking about the pitch again, and then we started working together, vibing, finishing each other’s thoughts and then I realized- I like him.”

He glanced at Fen who was wearing an expression of regret and then at Margo who looked sympathetic but still had her Margo cynicism behind it.

“Hey, what about that guy at the sandwich shop who always flirts with you?” Margo said. “I think his name is Joey? Next time we go, let’s get his number.”

“Bambi, I haven’t dated for nearly a year, what makes you think I want to start with Joey the sandwich guy?”

Margo rolled her eyes and Fen just patted his other arm. He reached over to top off his champagne.

“With Q, it’s just like...do you remember how he was when he started?”

Margo nodded. “He was so serious and he never spoke to anyone. Some people on the second floor didn’t even know he worked there for months cause he never went into the break room.”

“And now, he’s going ice skating with us, he’s talking to people, he’s even sounding excited about Christmas,” Eliot said. “He went to that Christmas fair all on his own. He sat down next to Santa, he let them take his picture.”

“Eliot, he did that stuff because of you!” Fen said.

“Secret Santa was good for him,” Margo added. “You have to feel happy about that, at least.”

“I do,” Eliot said. “I just…”

He traced the rim of his champagne glass before downing it in a long swallow. “I just thought maybe we had something. I guess I was wrong. He really does prefer blondes.”

Fen and Margo looked at each other, then Eliot. All three of them were brunettes and they let out a collective sigh.

“If I still feel like this after New Year’s, maybe we can give Joey the sandwich guy a shot,” Eliot said, digging into his cheesecake.

“Sure,” Margo replied. “Let’s go watch Love Actually and I’ll order us a pizza.”

Eliot got up from the table and kissed her on the top of the head, then gave Fen a kiss too. He couldn’t be too upset about Quentin when he had such great friends in his life.

==

Quentin was walking Alice to her car after dinner. They’d had a pleasant meal, tried not to talk about work, but it had slipped in a couple times. Alice was privy to a lot of information that Quentin found really helpful to his own job. She was sweet and pretty, but he couldn’t help but notice that something didn’t feel right. There were things she said, turns of phrase she used that didn’t seem familiar, that didn’t seem like the person he’d been emailing with since the first week of december. It had to be that she was different in person, and maybe they could open up more once they got to know each other.

“This was really fun,” she said, stopping in front of a blue Honda Accord.

“Yeah it was,” he agreed. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“I’m glad you asked, I was hoping you would, and I know I could have just done it but,” she stopped, sounding a little embarrassed. She pushed her glasses up her nose. Quentin stepped a little closer.

“Well, it’s a good thing you got me as your Secret Santa,” Quentin said. He wondered if it was appropriate to kiss her now.

Alice‘s face fell and she frowned. “No, you’re not my Secret Santa. I have Margo.”

“Oh.” Quentin’s brain slowly took in the information and suddenly nothing and everything made sense. He didn’t mean to, but he felt himself recoil. He took a step back.

“I guess I’ll see you at work then?” he heard himself saying.

Alice’s face maintained a sour expression. “Yeah okay, thank you for dinner, and for the flowers.”

Quentin just nodded and waved to her as she got into her car. He was glad he still needed to walk a few blocks to where he’d left his car because he had a lot of thinking to do. If Alice wasn’t his Secret Santa, who was? There was only one other person he wanted it to be, but he’d already ruled them out. Hadn’t he?

Quentin pondered the clues all the way to his car.

==

It was December 23rd and the office was full of excitement and joy. Quentin and Eliot’s ad was premiering and everyone had gathered around to watch it. Quentin was nervous about the big party that night, where he would finally find out about the promotion, and a little worried about what he was going to do for Secret Santa. But he let most of those feelings simmer on the back burner as they gathered around the big TV in the break room to watch their ad.

Fogg was in a good mood, and he’d brought in sparkling cider to toast. He and Eliot stood near each other, but with enough distance between them for another person to fill. He’d noticed that ever since the final pitch Eliot had been a little distant, and he wondered if their newfound friendship was already dwindling. They weren’t working together, he rationalized. And Eliot had other friends in the office. But he found himself missing him anyway.

They watched the ad, and it was even better than he and Eliot had imagined it could be. The whole office clapped and Mr. Fogg shook their hands. Quentin felt on top of the world, just as happy as he had on the day of the pitch.

“Good job, partner,” he said reaching out his hand to Eliot.

Eliot seemed a bit taken aback, but then he softened and accepted the handshake. Quentin wanted to talk more, but Margo had her arm around him, and she lead him over to a big group of people.

“It was a really good ad.” Alice’s voice came from behind him. He turned to see her, wearing a white dress with a snowflake pattern and a necklace of blinking Christmas lights.

“Thank you.” He pointed to where Eliot was making the group of people laugh. “It was mostly Eliot’s idea.”

“So I guess that’s why you never called me again.” Her voice was tight but not mean.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not like that,” he said, tearing his gaze away from Eliot who had turned to watch their conversation from across the room.

Alice just gave him a little smirk. “Are you sure?”

Quentin wasn’t sure. Less than an hour later, when he was leaving for the day, he ran into Eliot at the elevator. Eliot was wearing his scarf, which still gave Quentin a warm feeling. He wondered when Eliot would give it back but at this point, it was as good as his.

He was still riding the high of the ad, and maybe Alice was onto something. “Hey, um, did you maybe want to grab dinner before the party tonight? We could celebrate.”

Eliot frowned. “I wish I could but I’ve got plans with Fen.”

“But you are coming to the party, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Eliot stepped forward as the elevator door chimed.

“Hey, do you have the print mockup, I forgot to give it to Fogg.” Quentin was digging through his bag even though he was fairly sure it was with Eliot’s stuff.

“Yeah.” Eliot paused before stepping inside the elevator. “It’s on my desk.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Quentin said. He made his way back to Eliot’s desk, and took a moment to really look at it. He’d always been a little overwhelmed by the decor, but for the most part, the workspace was neat and tidy. He found the print mockup right away, but he stood there for another moment noticing everything else. A snowman, a Santa calendar, a tiny Christmas tree, and then a selection of snow globes.

Quentin’s heart did a double-take and he blinked and pushed aside a silly-looking elf. Behind it was a picture of Eliot with a baby Fray and then another of him with Fen and Fray on a beach. Then, tucked in a corner, was a picture of an elderly woman in a cornfield, with a small boy.

Quentin’s stomach caught up to his heart and he grabbed on to Eliot’s desk in utter surprise, but also in utter delight.

As if that wasn’t enough, on the way to Fogg’s office, his phone rang. It was his mother. He invited her to coffee at the shop just down the street, the same place he always worked with Eliot.

He reached the coffee shop a few minutes before his mom would be there, so he took the liberty of ordering her a black coffee and grabbing some Splenda packets. As he waited, he read back over the Secret Santa messages and thought about everything he’d learned. When paying for the coffee and pulling out his wallet, he’d re-discovered the picture of himself, Eliot and Fray. He’d brought it back out to study as he waited. The photographer had called them a family, and Quentin had to admit, even though they didn’t look alike, there was something very family-like about their expressions.

Quentin watched his mother walk in. She was wearing a big puffy blue coat and a pair of white leather gloves. She took an appraising look around the coffee shop and then spotted his table. Quentin put the picture to the side but left it on the table.

“Hi sweetheart,” she said, taking a seat across from him.

“I got you a coffee,” he told her, pointing at it and the sugar substitute.

“Thank you, let me get you some money--”

“I can afford a cup of coffee, Mom.” Quentin folded his hands and took a breath. “I’m glad you came, there’s just been something I need to talk to you about.”

“Sure,” she said, opening a couple Splenda packets and dropping them into her cup.

Quentin pushed his hair back. Today he was wearing it down, since he didn’t have any meetings or presentations and it had a tendency to fall into his eyes whenever he hung his head.

“I worked really hard to get where I am. I wish you would stop saying I should have been a lawyer. I never wanted to be a lawyer. Dad never--” he swallowed instead of finishing his sentence. “I just want you to know that I’m happy here, and I hope you can understand that. I hope you can find a way to be proud of me.”

His mother stared at him. He could see the wrinkles around her eyes. He could see the tiny scar on her eyebrow from the time she’d fallen off her bicycle when he was 8. He could see a lot of his family history in his mother’s face.

“Oh Q, I’m sorry. I never realized saying you would make a good lawyer was upsetting you. I thought you’d take it as a compliment. You’ve always shown such determination and such enthusiasm for your work. I really am proud of you,” she said, reaching across the table and patting his knuckles.

Quentin peeked at her through his curtain of hair. She was smiling at him, and he felt something inside him that had been balled up tight slowly unravel. He relaxed his hand so that she was really holding it, instead of patting his fist.

“Can I spend Christmas with you and Molly?” he asked. “I really want to spend more time with you two. These last few weeks have shown me what’s important to me.”

“Okay,” his mom said. “We’re having Christmas Eve dinner at her parent’s house. I’d love for you to come.”

“Okay,” Quentin echoed, and he finally relaxed enough to lean back into his chair and put his hands into his lap.

“I’m sorry. After your father and I got divorced, it wasn’t much fun for me during the holidays and all I wanted to do was work. Now, I’m gonna make an effort to be more present for Christmas.”

Quentin felt like he could believe her. He reached down to check his phone, and in doing so, nudged the photograph.

“Hey, what’s this?” his mom said, picking up the picture of him, Eliot and Fray.

“Oh that’s Eliot and his niece,” Quentin explained.

His mom looked at him over the edge of the photo. There was the slightest smile in her eyes.

“And who is Eliot to you?”

Quentin smiled to himself as she handed the picture back. “He’s my Secret Santa.”

==

Eliot

“I don’t know what I’m more nervous about,” Eliot started. He was standing in Fen’s bedroom, in front of her full-length mirror, in his dress shirt and boxers as she finished ironing his pants and vest.

“The big promotion announcement. Or the Secret Santa revelation,” he finished, turning to look at her.

Fen just continued ironing his pants, finishing the leg and then turning the garment over to finesse any remaining wrinkles.

“El, there’s no need to worry. You’re a lock for the job, and Secret Santa will be fine, I promise.”

“I just hope he’s not mad at me,” Eliot said. He adjusted his cufflinks again. They were tiny Santa hats in silver. Christmassy, but not tacky.

“He’ll understand.”

“You should have seen him and Alice. He must really like her.”

“Wait a second.” Fen put down the iron. “When did he start liking Alice?”

“The first time he really started talking to her was after the ice skating thing.”

“Which he only went to because of you. Because of Secret Santa,” Fen said. “El, what if he thinks she’s his Secret Santa?”

Fen and Eliot locked eyes in the mirror.

“You really think so?” Eliot turned around to accept the pants she’d finished.

“It makes perfect sense,” Fen said. “You sent him on a wild goose chase early on, and he found a different goose.”

“It would explain some of his behavior.” Eliot pulled on the pants carefully, trying not to wrinkle them.

“Whatever happens, you’ll know how he feels for real tonight,” Fen said. She’d started ironing his vest, and so Eliot started to put on his favorite Christmas tie. It was a dark green and had little holly berries embroidered on it. By the time he was finished tying the perfect knot, she had his vest ready, and all he had to do was slip it on.

“You look like a winner,” Fen said, standing behind him and idly brushing at his clothes, looking for any loose threads or random hairs left over. Eliot just hoped she was right.

==

Eliot was filling up his plate at the buffet when he felt the presence of someone near him. It was Quentin, holding a glass of wine in one hand and an empty plate in the other.

“Hey, you came!” he said, sounding a little too excited for the same person who had told Eliot his favorite color was black just a few weeks ago.

“Yeah, I never miss it,” Eliot said, reaching for some potatoes au gratin. He kept his eye on the food and took a step down the row. “Are you here with Alice?”

“Alice?” Quentin searched around as if he expected her to pop out. “No, why would I be with Alice?”

“Oh, I just heard you two went out to dinner,” Eliot said, reaching for the deviled eggs. Quentin grabbed one too.

“That was just a one-time thing,” Quentin said. He stood up straight. He’d obviously been dressed by someone special. He was wearing a dark blue suit, and what appeared to be a new white shirt and a burgundy tie. His hair was out of the bun, slicked back around the ears and he smelled like expensive cologne.

“We decided we’re better as friends,” Quentin added, brushing past Eliot to get to the shrimp cocktail. “Um, El, you look really nice tonight.”

Eliot just stared as Quentin gave him a shy little grin and headed towards his table.

Eliot found Margo holding a seat for him at her table, and he tried his best to explain to her what had just happened.

Shortly after, Fogg found his way to the front of the ballroom, already swirling around a glass of what appeared to be scotch. Eliot nudged Margo and they both giggled. Their boss wasn’t shy about getting loaded at the Christmas party, and last year he’d done some truly embarrassing karaoke. He did sing a mean Whitesnake though.

“Thank you for coming. We’ve had a truly lucrative year at Brakebills, and I want to congratulate you all for your part in our success!” Fogg scanned the crowd, and Eliot swore he could feel Fogg staring at him specifically. “Now you all know that our creative director Harriet is leaving the company and I needed to find someone to replace her. It was hard to find someone with her level of creativity and drive, but I think I’ve found the perfect person. So tonight, I’d like to announce her replacement will be Eliot Waugh!”

Eliot wasn’t sure he’d really heard his name until he heard Margo screaming and clapping next to him. Everyone was looking at him, and he felt his cheeks grow hot, but then he composed himself and gave them all his most confident look. He was elated. He couldn’t wait to tell Fen and Fray tomorrow at Christmas Eve dinner.

After dinner, Margo was dragged to the dance floor by Todd, and despite looking like she wanted to kill him at first, she’d imbibed enough Christmas Spirit to allow it. Eliot was standing at the edge nursing his second glass of champagne when he saw Quentin approaching.

“Hey, um, Eliot, um.” Quentin was doing that stuttering thing he’d done when they first met and he wasn’t sure about something. Eliot had learned the best thing to do was to give him a second for his mouth to catch up to his brain. “Would you like to dance?”

That wasn’t what Eliot was expecting, but he supposed it would be rude to say no, so he accepted Quentin’s offer and walked with him to the dance floor. It took them a moment to situate themselves, but once they had all their limbs aligned, they actually made a good pair.

“Congratulations,” Quentin said, as they swayed across from where Fogg was dancing with Alice.

“Thank you,” Eliot said. “I know you wanted it too.”

“I did.” Quentin’s hand slipped a little on Eliot’s shoulder, but he maintained their movement. “But you worked so hard this year. You really deserved it.”

“Do you really think so?” Eliot asked, a little surprised by his comment, but ultimately flattered.

“Of course,” Quentin said. “I couldn’t have done our pitch without you. You saved the day.”

Eliot wanted to say more, but then the song was winding down, and Fogg was asking everyone to gather around the big Christmas tree where everyone was leaving their Secret Santa gifts.

He broke away with Margo, so they could watch everything from a medium distance.

“Are you ready for the moment of truth?” Margo asked him.

They watched Todd open up a truly hideous reindeer sweater and tried to hold their laughter.

“I guess so,” Eliot admitted. “I just know he’s gonna be upset.”

“Okay, think about this.” Margo reached up to take him by the shoulders. “What if he’s not upset? What if he’s happy? What if you get everything you ever wanted?”

“Hey, Margo?” Fogg was calling her. “You’re next.”

Eliot was only able to watch, his mouth open, as she skipped to the front, and opened her Secret Santa from Alice, a gift certificate to the coffee shop and a brand new coffee mug.

“Okay Alice, your turn.” Fogg handed her a present wrapped in green paper.

It was the blue and white snowflake scarf from the Christmas fair. Courtesy Penny from Accounting. Eliot was still rolling around Margo’s words when he heard Fogg call Quentin.

It was the moment of truth. Eliot watched Quentin make his way to the tree where Fogg handed him a medium sized gold box with a red bow.

“What is it?” Alice asked, as he pulled up the lid.

Quentin was laughing. “It’s a tie.” He lifted up the dark blue silk tie with an almost invisible herringbone pattern. “Oh, and something else?”

Eliot bit his lip and watched the softness in Quentin’s face. “Two tickets to the paint night event at the local art school.”

He waved the tickets around so people could see, then placed them back into the box. “This is really nice.”

“Who was Quentin’s Secret Santa?” Fogg asked the crowd.

“Me,” Eliot said. He tried to read Quentin’s face, but he was already turning away and leaving the ballroom.

He grabbed at Margo, who was automatically back at his side. “He hates me!”

“He doesn’t hate you!” she was telling him. Eliot felt like he might just throw up.

“Okay, now we have a present for Kady,” Fogg said. He handed her a red box with a green tag and she laughed over a framed picture of her dog given to her by some girl on the third floor. Eliot wasn’t paying attention. He was watching the door, hoping Quentin would be coming back.

Fogg felt around under the tree. “That was the last one.”

“No, it can’t be,” Margo shouted. “Eliot didn’t get a gift.”

“It’s fine, Bambi,” Eliot tried to quiet her. “I don’t need anything.”

Fogg frowned and crossed his arms. “That’s not right. Everyone was supposed to have a name, who here has Eliot?”

Everyone was looking at Eliot again, and not for a good reason like before, he was about to mark this down as his worst Secret Santa ever when Todd came running up.

“You guys have to go outside right now!” he said, looking specifically at Eliot. “Hurry, come on!”

The employees all huddled together and made their way outside to where Eliot was shocked and delighted to see a red sleigh chartered by a horse. And there was Quentin, sitting in the sleigh, waiting for his second passenger.

He reached out a hand, “Eliot, I’m your Secret Santa.”

Eliot accepted the hand and entered the sleigh, where Quentin had a thermos full of a hot beverage, as well as a couple plaid blankets.

“This is lovely,” said Fogg, still holding his scotch glass. “Definitely over fifty dollars though.”

The rest of the employees slowly shuffled back inside to finish their party and Quentin and Eliot were left alone in their sleigh. Eliot’s heart felt so full it might burst, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug Quentin or kiss him or yell at him or all of the above.

“Thank you for the tickets,” Quentin said, pulling up a blanket to cover their legs. “And the tie.”

“You said that was what you wanted.”

“I did.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither daring to look away first until Eliot had to say it.

“You don’t look surprised that it was me.”

“I figured it out,” Quentin said. “When I saw that picture of you and your grandmother.”

“Oh right.” Eliot realized his desk gave it all away.

“What I don’t understand,” Quentin continued. “Is why you lied to me when I asked?”

“You knew I wanted to meet,” he added, looking down at the lush red fabric of the sleigh.

“I was nervous,” Eliot blurted out. “I thought you’d be disappointed or that you might be upset.”

“But why?”

“Well,” Eliot waited for Quentin to meet his eyes. ”We weren’t exactly the best of friends at the beginning.”

Quentin didn’t look away. His eyes were serious but soft around the edges. “El, I wanted it to be you.”

Eliot couldn’t help but clutch at his chest. “You really did?”

Quentin just nodded and Eliot scooted a little closer.

“But now that you know how I feel, I was hoping you could tell me how you--”

Eliot didn’t let Quentin finish his thought before he closed the gap between them with a kiss. When they broke apart, Quentin was smiling wider than Eliot had ever seen, and there were snowflakes in his eyelashes.

Quentin laughed. “Merry Christmas!”

Eliot wanted to kiss his smile. “What happened to bah humbug?”

“I think you won me over,” Quentin said.

Eliot kissed him again, this time wrapping an arm around him so they were nestled together.

Quentin reached forward to tap the man driving the horse. “We’re ready to go, please.”

As the snow swirled around them, Eliot took his first one-horse open sleigh ride, drinking hot cocoa and exchanging sweet kisses with Quentin. It was definitely the best Secret Santa ever.

The END