How the Grinch Knotted Christmas

Richard was grumbling again. He'd been grumbling all afternoon, and Hunter had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Sweet holiday montages generally didn't involve laughing at one's partner's misery, even if one's partner looked like he was being tortured as he expertly frosted holiday-shaped cookies. Decorating the Christmas tree seemed to have been an affront to Richard's sense of decency from how he'd scowled his way through it, and wrapping presents had appeared to cause him great moral offense.

"Cut!" Brandt said from beside the camera. "Now that you're finished with those sugar cookies, let's get you started on the snickerdoodles, and then we'll move on to the peanut blossoms, tea cakes, and gingerbread."

"Why does this damn scene call for us to bake ten different kinds of cookies?" Richard asked. The disgruntled air hanging around him was as thick as the scent of pine and cinnamon and peppermint floating through the studio.

Considering how the crew kept eyeing the cooling sheets of chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies, Hunter could make an educated guess. Richard certainly wouldn't have volunteered to bake for MateHub's annual Christmas party—not without some serious encouragement from Hunter. Besides, this way, the fans could enjoy it too. They did love Richard in an apron, though they might complain it wasn't only an apron this time.

"At least they aren't making us do the first scene they pitched us," Hunter said, trying to soothe him.

"Why didn't you want to do that script?" Brandt's question was a feigned sort of casual. "The... writers put a lot of effort into it."

"Maybe next year," Hunter said. Next year, and hopefully starring someone else.

Brandt nodded. "I really think How the Grinch Knotted Christmas will be a holiday classic."

Hunter snorted. "I bet it will."

The script had placed Richard and Hunter in the titular roles, with Richard demonstrating his versatile acting ability by transforming into the Grinch—a truly subversive casting choice given his bright personality of pure sunshine—while Hunter would have played... Christmas. Or, to be exact, the spirit of it. Apparently the costume department had already been hard at work designing his outfit, which had involved an excessive amount of tinsel and not much else.

"And the Grinch's small knot grew three sizes that day," Brandt said wistfully, almost to himself.

"Hey!" Richard said. "There's nothing small about that."

Hunter patted him on the arm. "We know. Now let's bake these cookies so we can get to the fun part."

A low rumble built in Richard's chest as he leaned in to steal a kiss from Hunter that tasted of hot chocolate and frosting, but when he pulled away, he was scowling again. "Domestic scenes are the worst."

"Sure they are," Hunter agreed, like he couldn't feel exactly how much Richard was looking forward to them slow-boning to cheesy Christmas music.

Domestic scenes were just the absolute worst, and Hunter couldn't wait to film more of them with Richard. He'd have to talk to the "writers" about making this a holiday tradition.

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