It all started innocently enough: Altair had found (by chance) a USB device that was shaped like a dog and when plugged into the port on a computer was supposed to start humping. It was a gag-gift (clearly) that he’d gleefully packaged and happily handed to Malik in the safety of their own shared living room.
Malik had stared at him like a moron. Altair had encouraged him to try it. Malik had screamed in shrill surprise when the dog started humping his computer and then burst into hysterical laughter. The whole of the encounter was recorded on Altair’s phone and shown to everyone on the planet.
Malik reciprocated with a giant sticker that read ‘100% American Asshole’ that he gift to Altair (on their anniversary of all days) with the biggest and most obnoxious grin on his face. Altair had glared at him for a few seconds before pointing out the factual inaccuracies (he was 0% American, for instance) with the statement. But he hung it on the wall over the hideous chair that Malik refused to throw out and it had become a common defaced bit of wall art.
Altair returned the favor with a book of semen recipes called ‘Natural Harvest’ that Malik had opened in front of his little brother and a few dozen of their friends who assembled for his birthday. He had snapped the wrapping paper flat over the cover of the book for a half second in a manner that was instantly damning. Altair (hiding a safe distance away) had started laughing as soon as Malik’s face started turning colors. The whole party dissolved into a general assembly of horny idiots offering to give Malik plenty of raw ingredients. And it was funny as hell until the first time Altair found the book sitting open in the kitchen next to a pan full of unknown contents smelling simultaneously delicious and worrisome.
Malik bought him a corn-cob shaped dildo ‘because he liked corn’ and gave it to him at work with a sweet smile on his face and a curious coworker nagging him about he wouldn’t open it. Altair gave Malik a candy-cane shaped dildo in his stocking while they were at his Grandmother’s house for Christmas and watched with complete and utter glee as Malik tried to explain to the children that were interested in the great glass thing why it was only for looking at please God don’t touch it.
But Malik won, in the end, when Altair opened the gift on his birthday with his Grandmother’s sweet face looking on. The fox tail (of all fucking things) was beautifully bushy and wonderful and meant to worn by shoving the plastic end up his butt. Altair looked up at Malik’s reddening face as he choked on laughing behind the camera of his phone.
“What’s that?” his grandmother asked. “It looks furry.”
Malik mouthed ‘I love you’ and Altair gave him the finger and his Grandmother lectured him about manners.
“And now, another holiday classic to get you in the mood for tomorrow…”
The opening chords of “Oh Holy Night” were always a a fraught few seconds, Dean thought. Would it be Nat King Cole? Maybe Sinatra? Or, ugh, Josh Groban. Dean’s stomach lurched when the dulcet tones of Avril fucking Lavign assaulted his ears. He swatted the mute button so hard the pens on his desk shook.
“No thank you,” he muttered to himself, turning back to the spreadsheet currently filling two monitors. His vision was swimming a bit from staring at the thing for hours, but it was a good distraction from the fact he was working on fucking Christmas eve.
“Um, hello?” a hesitant voice asked as his office door was pushed open. A very tired looking delivery girl was holding a package and squinting. “I usually leave these at the front desk but…”
“Everyone left early, wanted to beat traffic or whatever,” Dean sighed. “Is that for me?”
“Suite 407?” the girl asked as she strode in.
“Sounds about right.” Dean took the pack, which at first glance looked looked like it had to contain a text book or something. “So what’d you do to end up on this gig?” he asked, absently turning the package over.