Day Five
Day Five:
On the fifth day of Winterfic, Hazel gave to you, a local farm/Christmas Tree Co. Lelo AU.
Heartcliff Farm was a creature of the summer mostly. It made its ends meet with strawberry and blueberry picking and cut-your-own flowers in the fields. The farm shop housed great, plump tomatoes in June and July. Fresh butter and milk. Buttery, sweet corn in August. Leo and his mother’s own baked goods—using our own eggs and fresh milk from just a few hops and skips away! The lake was near by, after all, and all the second-homers came up for the summer, or at least the Forth of July and a few vacation weeks later on. Leo’s family lived in town. He had never actually been to the lake—it was all houses, no public beaches—but he’d been working at Heartcliff his entire life, and he’d mastered talking to the Lakers as if he, too, was their kind of “regular.” That’s what they asked each other. Are you a regular? And, for Leo and his fellow employees, Are you a local? Local verses Regular—who could say which was better.
But everyone was friendly, and Leo liked to see how his smile worked wonders on them. Most of them knew him by name, and he, them. You wouldn’t believe the tomatoes this year, Mrs. Walker. Oh, Leo, is that some of your banana bread? I don’t know where you find the time to do all that baking for us!
It was a well-worn routine. And there was hardly ever anyone new, but Leo didn’t mind. He missed home terribly when he was away at Gryffindor University, which seemed to be nothing but new people, and no one who cared about this place. No one who cared that he loved it, that he loved baking, that he loved anything. Either he talked too much or was too shy. He hadn’t yet been able to find the sweet-spot, the one all the people at Heartcliff responded to. The one that felt easy, here. It felt like the most difficult thing in the world, there.
But, like any summer, winter always came—but Leo found the good parts. The parts so perfect that they warmed him through and through. Skiing, the Gingerbread house competition at the local library (him or Mrs. Hollyway nearly always won). The fires that his father built in their great fireplace. Baking cookies, and more cookies.
And, of course, the transformation of Heartcliff farm. The summer tomatoes, the sweetcorn and fresh bread, the flower and strawberry picking…all of that was scurried away and swapped out as if Christmas elves had come in the night. Evergreen garlands were strung along the farm shop’s doorways and roof. The wood burning stove was an ever-present smolder in the corner. The library’s sewing and knitting club made ornaments to be sold, some of the profits going to the local charities. Red-faced skiers coming in freezing and hoping for some of their (well, Leo thought it was famous) hot chocolate and home-made marshmallows.
Best of all…
Well. Leo’s throat closed up a little, cheeks flushing as bright as the skiers (only not from the cold) when he thought of the best part of all. To anyone else, he’d say the best part was the Christmas tree farm they put out front of the shop, stringing lights up above to glisten down on the falling snow. The best part was how cozy it looked, how happy the children were when they found that there was hot chocolate and candy canes to be had while they hunted for the perfect tree. The best part was the amount of snow that fell, and how perfect it all looked. The best part was strolling around with his parents to pick out their own tree, too. Those were the best parts. They really were.
But secretly, quietly, only to himself…For Leo, the best part of winter, was Logan.
Logan, who was like a myth that came down from the mountains each year.
“I know that look.”
Leo looked up at his mother over the sound of the electric mixer. She was at the counter, opening a fresh pile of delivered Christmas cards.
“Hm?” Leo asked.
Eloise smiled. “And that smell.”
Leo tried to will the redness out of his cheeks that had sprung up like it was eager or something. “Hm?”
Eloise laughed. “Hm?” She parroted. “Hmm, I just wonder who you’re making ginger cakes for.”
“Mama…”
His father came in from a fresh shoveling of their front walk. Wyatt banged his boots clean outside before shutting out the cold air again. “What’s with that mama? What’d I miss?”
“Well,” Eloise said, watching her husband take off his coat and hang up his hat. “Who could possibly be coming today that Leo would be making ginger cakes for?”
“Well, there’s only one lucky chap I can think of.”
Leo turned the mixer off and laughed. “Dad. Guys, no.”
“Could be it be a certain mountain man?”
“Oh my God, he’s not a mountain man,” Leo said, sprinkling flower into the buttered up, small bunt cake molds. “He’s—he’s just—Well, he doesn’t have a beard, first of all—Second—I’m not making them for him, these are for the shop. It’s a big ski weekend, and everyone’s getting their trees right now, with Thanksgiving over with. I’m—You know, you know what, I didn’t even remember they were coming down with fresh trees today.”
Eloise rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, totally forgot?”
“So, you’re making the ginger cakes for me, then?” Wyatt smiled. “And I could take a few over to book club later?”
“Sure.” Leo said, and rolled his eyes at his dad’s laugh. They really weren’t all for Logan. It was only that Leo wanted something that might make Logan give him one of those gentle, almost shy smiles of his. Now, if only they would bake properly. Logan and the others wouldn’t be here for an hour, so he did have time. And the cakes would be hot for Logan that way—well, for anyone, but—but Logan liked them the most. Logan had a sweet tooth. Oh, Leo hoped they had enough hot chocolate, because then maybe Logan would keep coming inside for breaks and—and if no one else was in the shop maybe they could just talk a little more. A little more than usual.
“Okay.” Leo turned away to slide the cakes into the waiting oven. “I am ignoring these questions and I’m going to read until these are done.” If he could focus. “And then I am going over to the farm to start the wood burning stove. I have my timer on. Don’t open that oven door.”
Eloise winked at him over her mug of tea. “Yes, sir. Oh, and while you’re starting to stove, make sure you’re definitely not waiting for a glimpse of a certain truck or anything.”
It was still snowing lightly when Leo closed the front door behind him, covered plate of ginger cakes in hand. The weather channel had promised it would get heavier throughout the day. It’d be a full on white Christmas for sure, and the skiers would all be out today. He smiled when he saw the farm, so warm looking in the building snow on the ground and roof. The lot waiting for more Christmas trees looked like it would be its own forest, right there on the outskirts of town. He fumbled with his gloves getting the key in the door. The heat was on, making him shiver as the warmth hit him, but the stove was what completed the scene. Leo hung up his coat and hat in the back room before kneeling in front of the stove and opening the small glass door. He piled the wood in, crinkled up the kindling, and struck a match. The warmth flooded out, and Leo filled the iron basin on top with water to evaporate into the air.
He almost loved opening the shop more than running it. He loved starting up the hot chocolate, thick and not too sweet, setting out the bowls of crushed candy canes and marshmallows. At the beginning of the season, he loved stringing up the lights, the red bows above the displays, and the secret sprouts of mistletoe over the doorways. The jingle bells that replaced the usual cowbell above the entrance, alerting them to someone entering the shop. He loved watching people’s faces light up.
Leo was carefully setting his ginger cakes out on the snowman display pedestal when the door opened again, revealing his dad with three big coils of twine over his shoulders.
“I’m really not allowed to eat one of those?” he asked.
“Nope.” Leo put the glass dome over them. “Not until Logan has his pick.”
Wyatt laughed. “You ever gonna talk to this kid when it’s not Christmas?”
Leo didn’t look up from fitting some small lights around the display’s base. “If I was ever going to work up the courage to ask, I would no longer recognize myself.”
“Aw, Le. Come on, I’m sure you could. Even if its just as a friend, at first. Logan seems like a good kid. Better than that boy you said you were ‘maybe’ seeing at school. What’s his name?”
Leo just raised a shoulder and turned to check on the hot chocolate. He didn’t really want to talk about Jack right now. Jack who had refused to come home with Leo for Christmas to his middle-of-no where-town. Babe, why would I when you could just come to the city?
“Logan probably has more than enough friends,” Leo said.
His dad came around to the back of the counter, making Leo look up at him. “That’s not really how friends works, hun.”
“Well.” Leo sighed, gave his head a shake. “Dad, I don’t know.”
“All right, all right.” Wyatt held up his hands. “But at least we’ll have enough Christmas tree twine, right?”
That made Leo crack a smile. “Right. Did Pascal say who he was bringing on the phone?”
“Logan, Noelle, Sergei.”
“Oh, I love Sergei. He always has the best stories.”
His dad laughed. “True. That man has lived five lives, I swear to God. Best way to be, though.”
“I don’t know, I’m pretty happy with my life.”
“Oh—” Wyatt gave him a playful scuff on the head. “You know what I meant.”
Leo’s reply was lost to him as soon as he heard a tell-tale rumbling from the road. He couldn’t help the way his head snapped towards the window, only to find a sight that looked a great deal like an old-time Christmas card. The red truck bumbling towards them with its bright green trees strapped to the back, the whole scene covered in fresh white snow. Leo watched them pull up, could hear some sort of French rap song coming from the cab. The truck stuttered to a stop, tires crunching over the snow, and the song cut off.
“Allez,” he heard—Pascal Dumais’ voice, owner of the farm. He said something faster that Leo didn’t catch—and he had been trying his best to learn from the French courses he was taking (no, it wasn’t for Logan, you had to take a language credit…it wasn’t just for Logan)—but all he caught now was Logan’s name. It was followed directly by Logan himself jumping down from the truck, wearing a dark green puffer jacket and a black beanie, also those thick, worn work boots that Leo sometimes imagined sitting, unlaced, by the front door of his shared house at college. They were tan, and scuffed, and made Logan’s strong legs look even stronger. If Leo ever found out what he looked like without those bulky jackets, he didn’t know what he’d do.
He was watching Logan and Noelle shove each other as they got some supplies from the truck, when his father cleared his throat. “You gonna go say hello?”
“Um.” Leo realized his voice was pitched up. “They always come inside when they first arrive.”
But when Leo heard the bells above the door jingle, and Pascal heartily greeting his father, Leo clammed up. He turned to the side, pretending to mess with the cash register, just for something to do with his hands. But he saw Logan out of the corner of his eye. He saw the way he stopped messing with Noelle, who had pointed out the mistletoe almost instantly and given Logan a smacking kiss on the cheek as they walked in, wiped those boots off politely, and—was he looking at Leo? Or the shop. The shop. Because they had done a wonderful job, it was cozy, and warm, and festive—
“Salut, Leo.” Logan said softly.
Leo took a breath and finally looked up. Green eyes. Green eyes he dreamed about. Logan offered him one of his quiet smiles as he set his gloves on the counter.
“Hi,” he said again, as if Leo hadn’t gotten the French.
“Hi,” Leo breathed, then cleared his throat. “Hi. How are you?”
Logan shrugged. “Good. Same. Did you just get home from college? I saw a bunch of others who look like they’re on break.”
Leo nodded. “Yeah, about a week and a half ago.”
Noelle raised her eyes towards the room. “Doesn’t look like you’re taking much of a rest.”
Leo laughed, smiling at her. “Yeah. I’m not very good at those.”
“I am,” Logan mimed a shiver. “I’d stay in here all day rather than get up at four because someone forgot to do her farm chores.” He sent a pointed look at Noelle.
“Hey!” Noelle didn’t look up from where she was making herself a hot chocolate. “They were yours.”
“Non.”
“Oh-kay,” Pascal laughed. “We’re all nice and warm now, let’s unload.” He sent Leo a smile. “Nice to see you, Leo.” He pushed through the door again, followed by Wyatt and Noelle.
“Same, Pascal.” He looked back at Logan. “Well.” He looked down at the ginger cakes, then motioned to the chocolate. “This’ll be here if you want to get warm again.”
“Will you?” Logan asked.
Leo flushed. He hoped he could blame it on the wood-burning stove heating up the place. “Mhm. Sure will.”
“Good.” Logan began to step back. “D’accord—oop—” He’d bumped not one of the smaller trees they displayed ornaments on. This one was full of jingle bells and there was an almost comical chorus of rings and Logan reached out to steady it. “Ha, okay, I obviously belong outside.”
Leo couldn’t help but laugh, lowering his hand from where he’d covered his mouth. “I guess. Wait, here, you forgot your gloves.”
“Oh,” Logan nearly tripped over his feet coming forward again to grab them. “Merde, okay. Merci.”
And with that he was out the door, leaving Logan staring after him.
It took a couple hours to unload everything, get the new trees in the ground or stands, restring the lights, and then it was time for the customers to come—leaving Logan and Leo both busy and, frustratingly, apart. Between ringing up tree tickets, Leo snuck glances outside at Logan—hauling trees through the netter, hoisting them onto car roofs, and—someone have mercy, please—yanking the chain saw to a start to saw off uneven trunk bottoms. Even from afar, it was good entertainment—especially when Logan got hot and shucked off his jacket in favor of a thermal undershirt in the hour the snow let up a bit. Leo huffed. If he had to watch two more girls from the local high school giggle over Logan, he was going to knock them into the jingle bell tree.
Finally, Logan said something to Noelle that Leo didn’t quite catch, but made a motion towards the shop like he was going inside. It practically made Leo jump, checking the hot chocolate, the ginger cakes, trying to look busy and available at once. He’d barely moved, though, when the bells were jingling above the store door and Logan was stepping through, nose and cheeks flushed.
“Hi,” Logan breathed, sniffing a bit from the cold. “Oh, so warm in here. Lucky.”
“Ha, yeah. Stay as long as you like.” He nodded outside. “We’re doing good though, huh? The trees are beautiful.”
“Ouais,” Logan said. “More beautiful here, though.” Logan set his gloves down on the counter again, and then took off his hat. His chestnut hair was a mess, wild, and maybe a little sweaty at the temples. “Prettier with lights around them.”
Leo’s eyes darted to the lights around the store that seemed to halo Logan. “Uh-huh.”
Logan looked at him for another moment, fingers tapping on the counter, before he noticed the sweets. “Oh. Oh, I know these. You have made these every year, yes?”
“Mhm,” Leo smiled. “Yeah, I—they’re some of my favorite to make.” I make them for you. “You want one?”
“Ouais, please, please.” Logan said, then looked at the hot chocolate. “I can take some of that, too?”
“Of course.”
“Kind of a tradition?” Logan asked as Leo put a cake on a plate for him. “The making?”
“Yeah.” Leo took a breath, stealing himself. “Yeah, kind of like—like seeing you is.”
Logan’s eyes went back to his, and he looked surprised for a terrifying second, before he nodded. “Seeing you makes it feel like Christmas.”
Leo looked back at him sharply from where he was pouring the thick chocolate into one of the staff mugs—much better than a paper cup. He expected Logan to have just—said it. Maybe he would be looking at something else, eating the cake. But Logan was looking right at him.
“You too,” Leo said. “Really, I—yeah.” He pushed the hot chocolate forward. “You too, Logan.”
“Good,” Logan said simply, and without ceremony, proceeded to dump what Leo thought was probably just a little too much candy cane crumble into his cup. Leo couldn’t help but laugh.
“You kind of have a sweet tooth, don’t you?”
“Mmm,” was Logan’s only reply, eyes closing as he sipped the chocolate, then took a bite of the ginger cake. “Ouais, I love these so much. I dream about these, I think.”
Leo shook his head, snorting. “No way.”
Logan just nodded as he chewed.
Leo glanced out the window again and saw that Pascal was bringing the truck back around. “Oh.”
Logan looked up questioningly, just as Noelle opened the door, huffing.
“Lo, we’re packing up.”
Logan looked back at her. “Quoi? Wh…now?”
“Yep.” Noelle raised her eyebrows. “You helping, or…”
“Ouais, just—hold on, merde.” Logan waved her off, annoyed. “Be right there.”
Noelle rolled her eyes at Logan, smiled at Leo, and shut the door again. Logan looked back at Leo, lips parted as if trying to decide what to say. He leaned forward, then back, fingers drumming on the counter again. The shops Christmas music played softly between them, and Leo bit his tongue until he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
Leo sighed. “Well…” Do you want to exchange numbers? I’d love to keep in touch. Every version of the phrase either felt too flirty or too formal. “Hardly said hello before goodbye.” Hardly anything. How many days had he been waiting for this? Telling himself that maybe this year he’d—what? He felt stupid now. This was how it always went. Logan didn’t live that far away, but it was still a drive. And all Leo really knew was that he was kind, sweet, had pretty eyes, liked ice hockey as much as he did, wanted to run the farm rather than go to college. He loved his life, who was Leo to mess with that?
“Maybe—Leo…” Logan began to say, and God, did Leo love hearing his name in his voice, his accent. Logan laughed and rocked on his heels again. And then he was taking out his phone and holding it tentatively across the counter. “Maybe we don’t…wait a year to see each other again?”
There. Yes. Of course, Logan had said it perfectly. Leo was nodding before he realized it, before he could form proper words. “I—yeah.”
“Mhm?” Logan was nodding too. “Really? Good.”
“I’d really love that.” Leo said, and then realized he hadn’t taken the phone yet. “Oh—ha, here.”
He might have hated the way his hands shook a bit as he typed in his number, but at least Logan was still looking softly at him when he gave him back the phone.
“Okay,” Logan said, and they both heard Noelle shout his name again. Lo-gan. Logan took a few steps towards the door. “Okay, well—maybe some time this break, I’ll drive down myself or…or you can come see the farm, too, if you want. The goats are cute, they have little Christmas collars—well, anyway.”
“Yes. Either. Both. Absolutely.”
Logan grinned. “Okay. Good. Good.”
He’d only just made it out the door when Leo spied his gloves, left on the counter again. “Logan, wait!”
Logan all but threw himself back through the door, coming close to knocking over another display, his green eyes bright. “Yes. I mean, yes?”
Leo laughed. “Your gloves.”
Logan looked at them on the counter, then smiled. “Keep them. You can return them when we meet up.”
Leo bit at the inside of his cheek against his smile. “Okay.” He felt sheepish, and shy, and like something fiery and good was burning him up inside.
“Bye,” Logan said softly. “I’ll text.”
Leo could only nod. “Bye.”
As he watched the truck drive away, French music started up again, he couldn’t help himself. He went to walk through the remaining trees. He put on his coat and hat, shoved his own mittens into his coat pockets, and slipped on Logan’s gloves.
~
A Few Months Later
The weather was warming, and so Leo had his apartment’s windows thrown open, letting in the fresh Spring air. He hummed softly to himself as he packed up his school things—computer, charger, pens…oh, the book they were reading. He smiled when he heard the shower cut off from the bathroom off of his room, the slight humming louder without the pounding water surrounding it.
Things had never been this good. Almost graduating—just a few months away, really—another perfect summer at the shop waiting for him. Not to mention getting to spend half of his time at the Dumais’ farm because—
The bathroom door opened, releasing steam. Logan emerged, towel wrapped around his hips, another being scrubbed at his hair.
Logan. Logan, driving down some weekends to stay. Logan, kissing him stupid at night, and curling into his side to watch movies. Logan, and his clothes filling up a drawer in Leo’s dresser. Logan’s boots by the door.
“Headed to the library?” Logan asked when he saw Leo’s bag, and reached out to cup Leo’s cheek, pressing a kiss to his mouth.
“Yeah, got to meet my partner for this presentation—English Lit class. Might have him over some time. He’s funny, you’d like him.”
“Oh?” Logan asked. “What’s his name?”
Leo shouldered his bag, kissed Logan again, and opened the door. “Finn. See you for dinner, love you!”