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    (S)no(w) Angels
    (S)no(w) Angels
    (S)no(w) Angels
    Ebook100 pages1 hour

    (S)no(w) Angels

    By A. M. Leibowitz

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A set of holiday-themed short fiction. Phin’s home sick, but Alex will take good care of him; Jeanine is about to deliver something more than red shoes to the boy who keeps asking for them; Santa’s son is in love with his sexy best friend, Elf Robin, and is trying to find a way to tell him;  best friends, lovers, and co-teachers at a dance studio, Elinor and Giovanna enjoy their ballet with a side of spanking; eleven-year-old Cat wants to be Mary in his church’s Christmas play, but not everyone thinks that’s a good idea; Zayne  wonders which part of her life will cause Pam to decide she’s better off looking for someone with fewer issues.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA. M. Leibowitz
    Release dateDec 24, 2015
    ISBN9781519976239
    (S)no(w) Angels
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    Author

    A. M. Leibowitz

    A.M. Leibowitz is a queer spouse, parent, feminist, and book-lover falling somewhere on the Geek-Nerd Spectrum. They keep warm through the long, cold western New York winters by writing about life, relationships, hope, and happy-for-now endings. Their published fiction includes six novels through Supposed Crimes, LLC, as well as a number of short works, and their stories have been included in several anthologies. In between noveling and editing, they blog coffee-fueled, quirky commentary on faith, culture, writing, books, and their family.

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      Book preview

      (S)no(w) Angels - A. M. Leibowitz

      FLU SEASON

      Phin sneezed. Then he groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. Everything hurt, but most of all, his throat burned. He blew his nose, which only served to make his head ache. Shivering, he scrunched himself up on the couch under a thick blanket, cursing the unfairness of life. He’d already called to reschedule his appearance in Morton Ponds at the middle school.

      While Phin was busy being miserable, Alex breezed into the living room, dressed for work. On any other day, Phin might have appreciated the view—Alex always looked good. Instead, Phin peered up at him through hazy eyes and whimpered, trying to sound as pathetic as possible.

      What’s the matter? Alex asked, his voice tinged with concern.

      I’m sick, Phin whined. He sniffled a little to demonstrate.

      Alex’s lips twitched. He stepped over to the couch and knelt down. Aw. Is my poor little baby a sick boy? He made a pouty face.

      Phin glowered at him. It’s not funny. He groaned again as his head throbbed.

      Don’t be such a wimp. It’s just a cold. Guaranteed you’ll be fine by tonight. Alex ruffled his hair a little.

      I don’t feel good. Phin slouched further under the blanket. And you’re mean. I hate you so much right now.

      No, you don’t, Alex replied. Tell you what—I’ll bring you some soup after work, okay? Will that make you feel better?

      Yes, Phin said. He managed a weak smile. Will you tuck me in and give me the tv remote?

      Alex chuckled. Sure. Sit up a bit.

      Phin leaned forward, and Alex fluffed the pillow. He arranged the blankets around Phin and set the remote in the vicinity of his stomach.

      Thanks.

      No problem. Alex brushed his lips across Phin’s forehead then sat back a little. You really are sick, he said softly, touching the back of his hand to Phin’s forehead. A slight frown formed, his brow crinkled with worry.

      Uh-huh. Phin’s eyelids drooped.

      Wish I could stay home and take care of you. Alex smoothed Phin’s hair and straightened up. Bye, babe. Get some rest.

      Okay.

      Phin heard the faint click of the door as Alex left. He snuggled under the blanket and closed his eyes, letting sleep overtake him.

      #

      By the time Alex returned home, Phin seemed much better. He was sitting up, and his eyes had lost their glassy look. Alex felt a little bad for teasing him that morning, but he’d been right—Phin was on the mend. He set the bag in his hand on the coffee table and knelt down beside the couch.

      How are you feeling, babe?

      Better. Phin coughed. Stuffed up, but otherwise, I’m all right.

      Brought you that soup I promised from the farmer’s market and a couple other things. Alex fished in the bag and produced a bottle of ibuprofen and a jar of chest rub. He smirked. I’ll put it on for you.

      Phin laughed softly. Sounds good.

      Alex made a show of opening the jar and inching closer. Take off your shirt and move over a bit.

      When Phin complied, Alex shifted to sit on the couch next to him. He leaned in and began to rub the fragrant balm over Phin’s chest, kneading the tight muscles. When Phin moaned quietly, Alex bent down and kissed his bare shoulder, tracing a path up his neck to nibble a little behind his ear. Phin made a tiny noise in the back of his throat. Encouraged, Alex slid his free hand down further, resting it on the waistband of Phin’s pajama pants.

      I know what will relax you, Alex whispered.

      Mm, Phin murmured.

      Like that? Alex moved his hand lower, applying a little pressure.

      Oh, yeah. Ah— Phin said, closing his eyes.

      Alex hummed a little and inched closer.

      Phin tipped his head back. Ah—ah—

      Slowly, Alex slipped his hand inside Phin’s pajama pants.

      —choo!

      With a yell, Alex yanked his hand out and scooted backwards. What the hell? That’s disgusting!

      Phin grabbed a tissue and blew his nose forcefully. Sorry!

      Now I need a shower, Alex complained. Ugh. You’re going to get me sick. He snatched a couple of tissues and wiped the front of of his shirt.

      For a full minute, Phin stared at him, his lips parted and his eyes wide. Finally, he said, Are you kidding me?

      What? Alex asked, glaring at Phin.

      "About getting you sick. You were just licking my neck, and now you’re worried about germs? For god’s sake, we fuck! We fucked last night, even. That was before we knew I was sick. I probably got all my nasty, nasty germs all over you already."

      I— Alex shut his mouth, knowing anything he said could get him in a world of trouble.

      Don’t be such a wimp, Phin said, his tone mocking.

      I hate you so much right now. Alex turned away and crossed his legs, folding his arms over his chest.

      No, you don’t. Phin leaned forward and touched Alex’s arm. With a sigh, he said, You can go take a shower if you want. I’ll eat the soup you brought me, and then we can watch a movie together. Okay?

      Okay.

      Alex relaxed and stood up. He bent down to kiss Phin’s cheek. When he straightened, he frowned, swallowing. Shit. No, no, no. He groaned.

      What is it? Phin asked, sounding concerned.

      My throat hurts.

      Phin grinned and patted the couch cushion. Aw. Is my poor baby sick? Come sit by me and I’ll make it all better.

      Alex scowled at him, but he obeyed, settling in against Phin.

      Guess you don’t need that shower after all. Come on. Let’s share the soup and find something to watch. He leaned in and whispered in Alex’s ear, Preferably with half-naked hot men.

      In spite of himself, Alex chuckled. He turned slightly to look at Phin and ran his finger down his cheek. Love you, he said.

      Love you, too. Now can we eat? I’m starving.

      CHRISTMAS AT MARY’S

      Jeanine entered the little diner on Route 19, brushing snow off the shoulders of her fleece-lined jacket. The bell over the door tinkled, alerting a slender woman with tight, blond curls that she had a customer. Wiping her hands on her apron, she greeted Jeanine with a wave.

      After over thirty years of earning a living making deliveries, Jeanine had learned the best places to stop, especially on Christmas Eve. She had been to every State in the Union save Hawaii—it’s hard to drive on the ocean—and hadn’t found a more welcoming place than that diner. Although she technically lived alone and spent most of her time on the road, she found family everywhere she went. Mary, diner owner and lemon pie baker extraordinaire, was among them.

      Jeanine took a seat at a booth near the door, with the service counter on her right and a clear line of vision on who came and went from the diner ahead of her. Mary’s waitress, a plump girl of about twenty, appeared at her side, pad in hand, ready to take Jeanine’s order. Her Christmas ornament earrings sparkled in the fluorescent lights. Jeanine ordered her usual—a hearty breakfast platter of sausage, eggs, and hash browns, with a side of Mary’s special cinnamon raisin oatmeal. She desperately needed something to warm her up.

      While Mary prepared the food, the waitress set down a steaming cup of black coffee at Jeanine’s elbow. Jeanine left off staring out the window at the falling snow and pulled the cup toward herself, wrapping her chilly

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