Sweet Christmas

3

When the door chimes ring, Win doesn't even look up from the cookies he was was frosting.

It has become a routine of sorts now, Bright ambling in impossibly early, Win finishing whatever task he's doing before getting them both a cup of coffee, Bright helping around the shop by getting things Win might need or even sampling whatever pastry experiment Win had thought of doing. They would get to talk a bit before the rush of breakfast begins and Win is swept away by work. The rest of the day, they would be able to wedge a few sentences in and nothing more.

So if you were to ask Win how Bright was doing with his Sweet Nothings Crush, Win really would not know.

Why doesn't he ask in the mornings? Good question. The answer is simply that he forgets. Because Bright usually comes in with stories about his pet cat or his football team or the weather that Win doesn't remember the crush before it's too late.

He remembers it sometimes when an especially cute customer steps up to the cashier or asks him about their Christmas baskets. He wonders if this is the man Bright wanted to ask out but when he sneaks a peak at Bright, it doesn't seem like he's ever looking at any of these men. Or maybe, Win's timing is just really off that's why he has never caught him staring.

He could ask now, but first he needed to get these snowflakes right.

"Fucking hell," he mutters as he finishes drawing another imperfect snowflake. He wanted to smash the cookie but carefully wipes away the icing instead.

Bright walks over. "Someone is in a mood."

"You would be in a mood too if you need to make 800 Christmas cookies and have finished- let's see - none of them."

"I'd offer to help but I cannot draw to save a life."

"You don't need to help."

"You clearly need help. And I would like to help somehow as long as it doesn't involve making complicated shapes."

Win smiles. "Maybe you can help next Halloween."

Bright laughs. "Frighteningly bad pastries, buy one take one."

A beat. "But seriously, how can I help?"

Win sighs as he puts down his icing bag. "It's okay. I will figure this out. My shoulder has just been pretty stiff these past couple of days, I think it's affecting how I handle the icing."

Bright lightens up. "I know how I can help!"

"You'll buy me a new shoulder?"

Bright grins, and points to the space beside Win. "Can I?"

"Come right around," Win says. As he pushes the tray of cookies away.

Bright rounds the counter and steps behind Win. "Would it be okay if I check your shoulders?"

"Uh, sure."

"Don't worry. I'm good at this."

Win feels Bright step closer, his chest grazing Win's back.

"Bend over for me."

"What?"

"Just a little. You're tall, I need to reach your shoulders better."

Win gives a little nod, wondering why he was allowing this to happen. But he follows wordlessly, gripping the counter  top and bending a little.

One of Bright's hands grip the slope of his shoulders near his neck. While his other hand palms his shoulder blade.

"I'll be gentle," Bright says softly. "If it's still too much, tell me okay?"

Win nods again, an odd stirring in his chest at those words.