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By early November, Peter and Jonny had papered over the windows of the empty spots in the shopping center with colorful images of turkeys and Pilgrims, even though those symbols were far from their northern origins.
He was due at the outpost that weekend to help with a transport, and he figured that if all else failed, he could get a flight to somewhere up north, then shift and fly the rest of the way to the outpost.
He had never discovered where on the map the outpost was—all he had to do was shift and set his internal compass, and he was there in a flash. But he had the feeling it was somewhere in upstate New York, maybe across the border in the wilds of Ontario. So he could get a flight to Plattsburgh, for example, where the low temperatures were in the thirties and forties, though anyplace where the ambient temperature was low enough would work.
As the days ticked by, he worried more and more. Whenever he could, he tried to figure out how he could shift. He woke at dawn on the first of November determined to experiment. While Jonny slept, he pulled on a pair of long johns, corduroy pants, a long-sleeved shirt and sweater, then his parka. Though he was quickly sweating, he knew he’d need to be dressed for the winter when he reached the outpost.
He stood on the balcony of the condo, closed his eyes and willed himself to shift.
Nothing.
He tried every trick he had heard the other shifters speak of—one could only shift if he was naked, one had to visualize the outpost in his mind, another had to imagine flight.
None of them worked for him.
“You can’t do it, can you?” Jonny asked, as he opened the sliding glass door and looked out.
“I’m not giving up. There has to be a way.”
Jonny stepped up behind Peter, wrapped his arms around Peter’s narrow waist, and snuggled into him.
And then, without warning, they were in flight. Peter was so surprised, he couldn’t focus on where they were going or what they were doing, and only a moment later, they were back on the balcony. The shift to reindeer form, and then back to human, was so quick Peter could almost think he’d imagined it.
Until Jonny said, “Holy shit. Did you feel that?”
“I did.” Peter half turned, and Jonny stepped up to the railing beside him. His brain buzzed with a memory of his conversation with Santa. How Santa had been so focused on Peter’s relationship with Jonny, on how strong the love was between them.
“I think I get it,” Peter said. “I need the cold to shift—but I need you too. Your love, your faith in me.”
“You’ve got that, babe,” Jonny said. “How can I help?”
“Get behind me again, and hold on,” Peter said.
The breeze off the night-cooled ocean was only a bit chilly, but Peter focused on it, feeling the cold contrasted with the warmth of Jonny’s body behind him. He grasped the railing of the balcony, willing himself to fly.
It didn’t work, and he broke down. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes. “I can’t do it,” he said. “It’s not working.”
“Maybe you need it to be colder,” Jonny said. “You shifted before.”
“But only for a minute.”
“Try it again.”
They tried over and over again, with the same result. The sun began to rise over the ocean, warming the air, and Peter gave up. “I’m flying to Boston this weekend,” he said. “I’ll buy a one-way ticket, and I can get back here on my own.” He took a deep breath. “But if I can’t, there’s always another airplane.”
“I’m sorry,” Jonny said. “I know how much this means to you.”
It did mean a lot, Peter thought. Did it mean enough to give up on Jonny and move back up north? He didn’t know. “I have to find a way to work it out,” Peter said. He knew he’d have to get a full-time job soon; his savings could last him only so long, and if he was buying plane tickets every weekend, that would break his bank account even more quickly.
Saturday morning, Jonny drove him to the airport in Orlando to catch a six a.m. flight to Boston. He’d arrive before the morning chill had burned off completely, find a secluded corner of the airport property to shift, and fly to the outpost
“Love you, babe,” Jonny said as he pulled up in the departure lane. “Call or text me if you need me to pick you up.” He smiled. “Travel safe.”
“Always.” Peter kissed his cheek and then jumped out.
The TSA agent gave him an extra-cautious screening because he was flying one-way without baggage, but finally he passed. This was what ordinary people had to do to get around, he thought. And if that was the worst part of moving to Florida to be with Jonny, then it wasn’t bad at all.
As the plane took off, Peter felt a stab at his heart—he ought to be able to do this. He had to be able to. Occasionally, he’d look out the window at the clouds and imagine himself soaring through them. Then he’d remember Jonny and remind himself all this effort had to be worthwhile.
When Peter landed at the outpost, Dasher Dan was out front, working with a new Blitzen who was having trouble with takeoffs and landings.
“You made it,” Dan said when Peter walked up to him. “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to.”
“Had to fly commercial until the last leg,” Peter said. “But you do what you have to do, right?”
A few minutes later, he left for the North Pole in a convoy of other reindeer, and the whole day was a series of back-and-forth flights. Fingolfin was happy to see him, and Peter loved being in the rhythm of his mission, laughing with the elves, with his fellow shifters, flying in formation with them.
After the last transport, he collapsed in the lounge with Dasher Dan, Vixen Vic, and a bunch of the other guys, all of them resting up for the journey home. Peter flexed his back muscles, which had begun to ache on the next-to-last transport. “I’m out of shape,” he said.
“We all are,” Dan said. “But if we do this every weekend for the next couple of months, we’ll be at our prime and ready for Christmas Eve.”
“I guess I should start booking my flights now,” Peter said. He explained to Vic and the others that he’d moved to Florida and hadn’t been able to shift there.
“Bummer, dude,” Vic said. “But at least as it gets colder, you’ll have shorter flights to get somewhere you can shift, right?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Peter said. “But yeah, I guess so.”
Still, the idea of all those flights, all that money flowing out of his bank account, depressed him. Eventually, one by one, the guys took off to return home. Peter and Dan were the last ones where. “You think you can make it home?” Dan asked.
“I can try,” Peter said. “What happens if I can’t make it all the way? I just crash-land somewhere when my energy runs out?”
He shivered at the thought of being stranded somewhere along the way from wherever they were to Florida.
“Can’t help you with that. But you know, there are elves who track all our flights. If you go down somewhere, I’m sure the big guy can get you help.”
That was modestly reassuring, Peter thought. But he hated the idea that he’d be causing trouble or work for someone else because of his personal decisions.
He walked outside with Dan, who shifted and took off. “Now or never,” Peter said. He closed his eyes, thought of flying and Jonny and Florida, and then, in a flash, he was in flight. He sensed himself tiring and came down for a landing on a beach—somewhere. He was relieved to look up, orient himself, and see the lights of the building where he lived with Jonny just beyond him.
He stayed there, resting on the sand, for a few minutes, gathering enough strength to get up, when he heard Jonny’s voice. “Peter? Are you out here?”
He managed to call out, and Jonny came running up to him. “Are you okay? I had this image of you flying and crashing, and it freaked me out.”
“You saw me?”
“It was just a flash, like those lights behind your eyes if you shut them too hard. But I thought I ought to come out here and look, just to be safe.”
He held his hand out to Peter, and Peter managed to get to his feet. “I brought you an energy drink,” Jonny said, pulling a thin can out of his pocket. “It’s probably warm by now.”
“That’s great,” Peter said. He popped the lid and drank down the cherry-flavored liquid, and he felt marginally better. With Jonny’s arm around him, they walked back up the beach to the condo.
It took him a full day to recover his strength. “This can’t work,” he said to Jonny. “Maybe I need to be in the cold air regularly to build my strength up.”
“I was thinking,” Jonny said. “While you were away, I met with a guy who wants to open a café in the restaurant space at the strip center.”
One of the shopping center spaces had been leased to a failed restaurant operation, and they spent days scrubbing down the empty kitchen and dining room, the pizza oven and the meat locker.
“That’s good,” Peter said. “Your mom can use the income.”
“More than that,” Jonny said. “He’s going to need the cold-storage area. And he says that he has to keep the temperature at below forty degrees to make sure the food is safe.”
“You think I can shift in the cold-storage area? How would I get out? Paw open the door? I can think like a human when I shift, but I don’t have opposable thumbs.”
“Maybe I can help you. When I was with you on the balcony, I helped you shift, right? I could be in the cold-storage room with you and then let you out the door. And maybe if you did some part-time work at the restaurant, you could be in and out of that room, and that would help build up your tolerance.”
“When did you get so smart?” Peter asked, leaning over to kiss him.
“I’ve always been this smart,” Jonny said. “It just took loving you to let it out.”
The restaurant wasn’t ready to open for a month, so Peter took flights every Saturday morning—first to Boston, then to Newark, then Philadelphia. He and Jonny joined a health club and they worked out during the week, adding swimming to their regular routines, and his stamina improved.
The café tenant wanted to get the cold storage area down to the right temperature before he brought any food in, so as soon as the power was hooked up he set the thermostat to forty degrees. The next Saturday morning, Peter and Jonny drove over there.
“What will you do if this doesn’t work?” Jonny asked.
“I’ll have to miss this week’s transport, and then go back to my flight pattern,” Peter said. “But I have faith this is going to work.” He turned to Jonny. “Do you?”
“I have faith in you, babe. Always.”
They parked in front of the empty café, and Jonny let them in with his master key. The dining room was warm; they weren’t running the air-conditioning in there until they were open for business. But when they opened the door to the cold storage room, they were hit with a welcoming blast of arctic air.
“Feels good,” Peter said. The room was completely empty; the tenant was bringing in metal shelving the following week.
“As soon as you shift, I’ll push the back door open,” Jonny said. “You think you can fit through as a reindeer? Your shoulders and antlers are pretty broad.”
“Not the right time to think of that. We’ll have to make it work, won’t we?”
He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, willing the shift, but nothing happened. For a moment, he despaired, then once again he remembered what Santa had said about the power of love. “I need to you to hold me,” Peter said to Jonny. “Just remember to let go when I start to shift.”
Jonny stood behind him and wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist. “I love you, babe,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” Peter said. He closed his eyes, focused on the shift and on Jonny’s love, and then, without even thinking about it, he was out the back door, in the air, and on his way to the outpost.
He had a mission to accomplish, and he was in love. There was nothing better in the world.
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For more MM romance fun, check out my collection of short stories, The Catbird Seat. It’s a series of short romances tied to holidays. Here’s the first one:
