The Fairy Files (on hold)

12 Days of Xmas: Day 9- Laharanbolt

Lahar is a workaholic, and he refuses to take a day off, even on Christmas. Lucky for him, Doranbolt is very good at convincing him otherwise.

-

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

"Lahar."

Doranbolt slammed his hands down on the wooden desk and the man looked up at him, eyes squinted and bleary beneath his glasses.

He blinked a few times, as if he had to pull himself from his paperwork, before he asked. "Doranbolt? What's wrong-"

"It's Christmas, everyone else has gone home. And we should be going home too. Take a break." Doranbolt pleaded his case, giving his boyfriend his best puppy dog eyes.

Lahar rolled his eyes, and went back to his work. Ignoring him. Since Lahar was being a sour puss, Doranbolt tried an indirect approach. "Lahar look at me."

The man did, his scowl broadcasting the message; 'Leave me alone.'

Doranbolt did no such thing. "You need to take a break." He repeated, a hand subtly trying to move the papers on Lahar's desk away.

Lahar put a hand down on the papers, halting Doranbolt's attempt, lavender eyes glaring up at him. 'Don't even think about it.'

Doranbolt held up his hands in mock surrender, a smirk on his face. 'You can't blame me for trying.'

Lahar huffed, and shuffled his papers back into place, a pristine stack, thick as a dictionary. Task of neatness completed, Lahar pushed his glasses up on his nose, and fixed Doranbolt with a look. "What I need to be doing is finishing these reports, then I'll rest."

"You'll pass out on your desk before you finish them." Doranbolt eyed Lahar's state, his usual pristine tie hanging loose around his neck, hair rumpled from hours of running his hands through it, and the dark circles under his eyes. "You look like shit."

"Thank you, Doranbolt." Lahar dropped any pretense of formality with his sarcasm, and swung a hand towards the door. "Now you may go."

Doranbolt raised an eyebrow, "Are trying to dismiss me?"

Lahar glared right back at him, eyes sharp as crystals, "Are you disobeying an order from your superior?"

'Damn, so that's how this is gonna be?' Doranbolt's magic rallied in him, rising to the surface. 'Well two can play at that game.' His eyes bore into the place he wanted to go, then he vanished.

He reappeared in the space right behind Lahar's chair, and settled his palms on the man's shoulders. Lahar jumped at the feeling, already turning his head around, mouth and forehead creased with disapproval. "Doranbolt..." He started, but his chiding was cut off with a moan as Doranbolt started to massage his shoulders, nimble fingers kneading away the aches and pains of the long day.

"Come home with me." Doranbolt pressed his hands in further, applying more force.

Lahar groaned, settling back in his seat, the ink quill falling from his limp hand. "I know what you're doing."

"Hmm." Doranbolt hummed, then leaned down to press a kiss to Lahar's temple. "Is it working?"

"Damn, you." Lahar hissed, and Doranbolt knew he had won.

"Is that a yes?" He teased, his hands continuing their ministrations.

Lahar's answering growl said enough. Doranbolt grinned, and leaned down, breath hot against Lahar's ear. "So... you want me to take you home."

"F-fine." Lahar gritted out, hands gripping the chair's arms like he was in pain.

"Your wish is my command..." His smile grew wider. "...superior officer."

Before Lahar could offer a retort he summoned his magic, picturing the place in his mind; 'Home, I want to go home.' So that's where his magic took them.

They reappeared in Doranbolt's apartment, right on top of a pile of wooly blankets. In front of the fire place's roaring hearth, two glasses of ale sitting on the stones surrounding it. The perfect Christmas scene.

Lahar turned to look at Doranbolt, a knowing glint in his eyes as he drawled, "Some might think you planned this."

The corner of Doranbolt's lips tugged up. "So what if I did."

"Well first of all... I'd say you're a bastard."

Doranbolt chuckled at that, shaking his head, he shouldn't he have expected anything less from Lahar, Head Captain of the Custody Enforcement Unit.

"And second of all..." Lahar pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away, resting a hand on Doranbolt's chest, directly over his heart. "I'd say you're sweet."

"And third of all...?" Doranbolt asked, unable to help his sly smile.

Lahar scowled, crossing his arms, but there was no real anger behind it. "I'd tell my boyfriend to shut up and don't ruin the moment."

Doranbolt barked a laugh, then through his arms around Lahar, pulling the man closer. "Oh, now I'm your boyfriend? A couple minutes ago I was your subordinate."

"I told you to shut up." Lahar grumbled, snuggling closer. The man was secretly a big cuddle bug.

Doranbolt chuckled, but didn't say another word, content to sit there in the dancing firelight, the only sounds being their breathing and the crackling hearth, a quiet symphony.

Doranbolt didn't know how long they sat there in silence, but eventually Lahar stopped squirming to get comfortable, and his breaths evened out.

"I love you." Lahar mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes closed.

Doranbolt felt warmth bloom on his face, and it wasn't because of the fireplace. That was the first time Lahar had told Doranbolt that he loved him. Of course he'd said similar things, like; 'I care about you, stay by my side,' and 'I will always be here for you.' But never those three words.

I. Love. You.

Doranbolt didn't know why it was different from all the other phrases, all of them cheesy and expressing similar affection. Somehow 'I love you,' held more meaning.

His brain tried to rationalize, 'Was Lahar even awake when he'd said it? Or was Lahar saying it in a dream?' The man was now asleep, dozing into his side, a slip of drool on the corner of his mouth. His exhaustion finally claiming him.

Doranbolt huffed, and took off the sleeping man's glasses, then unlatched the silver hair clip, letting Lahar's long hair fall free, an ebony wave around his face. Doranbolt set the hair clip and the pair of glasses atop the hearth stones, next to the two untouched glasses, full of amber liquid.

Doranbolt looked down at Lahar, running his fingers through the silky locks. "I love you, too."

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough. The small weight in Doranbolt's pocket felt impossibly heavy. He fished the velvet box out, and set it off to the side, a place where even if Lahar woke up he wouldn't see it.

'Later, he could do it later. When the time was right. And...' Doranbolt smiled down at the sleeping man who was drooling on him. 'when Lahar is awake.'

Doranbolt watched the fire lick at the logs, his chest pinching tight. 'So much for my Christmas gift.'

But the gift Lahar had given him. It was the best Christmas gift Doranbolt could've ask for.

I love you.