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Michelle still isn’t sure how she let her friends talk her into this — joining them at a wine bar as they pregame for SantaCon. Michelle already had big plans. Her legal aid nonprofit approved her request for two weeks vacation to close out the year, and she had hoped to kick it off tonight by sipping hot cocoa in sweats, flipping between the Lifetime and Hallmark Channels. Betty, jumping on any opportunity to dress up in costume, managed to sell the others on SantaCon. When Michelle said she’d rather eat glass than be surrounded by hordes of drunk, out-of-town, douche-bro Santas, Betty managed to negotiate her down to a low-key happy hour.
Cindy and Felicia, dressed as a Christmas tree and sexy Mrs Claus, respectively, grab a booth and wait for Betty and her new boyfriend to bring along some friends. Michelle heads for the bar, adjusting the Santa hat Cindy insisted she wear. The pleasant plinking of the Vince Giraldi Trio washes over her as she eyes the specials. This wasn’t so bad.
A commotion from Cindy and Felicia’s direction alerts Michelle to Betty’s arrival. Ned and Betty are in fancy matching Santa and Mrs Claus costumes, including wire-framed glasses and elaborate wigs. She huffs fondly — those earnest dorks are perfect for each other. (They look so happy, Michelle resolves not to ask if they’ve thought about how expensive it will be to dry clean vomit and god knows what else from all that velvet.)
Ned and Betty are accompanied by a motley crew: one guy dressed in a green fleece elf onesie; another dressed… like a pope (?) complete with a tea-cozy like hat. Jesus. (Well, Jesus adjacent, she supposes.) Sliding into the outside seat is a guy in red flannel and jeans. Stray curls poke out from a red beanie with a white band and pom-pom. The barest of efforts toward a costume — perhaps a kindred spirit?
Michelle orders a round of mulled wines and makes her way back to the table to meet the new arrivals. The elf is Harry (a tech guy, like Ned). Tea-cozy guy is Flash (dressed as the historical St. Nicholas), and Pocket Paul Bunyan is — “Peter. Parker. Uh, Peter Parker.”
Michelle quirks an impeccably arched eyebrow. He’s cute. And endearingly awkward. “Nice to meet you, Peter Parker. Michelle. Jones-Watson. Wanna help me grab the drinks? Put that lumberjack strength to good use.”
“Yeah, of course,” Peter’s scrambles to his feet and follows her to the bar. “I’m, um, not intentionally dressed as a lumberjack — these are just my —”
“— I’m messing with you.” Michelle allows her lip to pull into a half smile as she props her elbow up on the bar.
Peter smiles back and seems to visibly relax. “What about you, didn’t feel like dressing up either?”
Michelle looks down and realizes she hasn’t taken off her coat. She slips it off to reveal a pink and yellow patchwork dress. “I put in more effort than you, at least.”
A beat passes before recognition lights up Peter’s face. “Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas! Minus all the facial stitches. That’s awesome, Michelle.”
That was a pleasant surprise; she hadn’t expected anyone to get the decades-old movie reference. “You can call me MJ, by the way.” She usually didn’t offer up that privilege so soon, but “Michelle” weirdly felt too formal coming from Peter.
“Anyway, Cindy and Felicia wouldn’t let up until I agreed to dress up as something.” She had seen the dress in the window walking by a Hot Topic and bought it to appease them. “Even though I’m bailing on the actual SantaCon part.”
“No way, me too!” He flinches like he wants to go in for high five, but catches himself. “I’m not against a wild night out, but SantaCon seems like… a lot.”
“For real. That’s why I’ll be on my sofa mainlining terrible holiday movies before they’ve even left the first bar.” Shit, she thinks, does that make me sound extremely lame? Time to redirect. “You know what else is a lot? Your boy, Flash.”
Peter laughs. “Yeah. Flash can be…a bit much. Honestly, we’re lucky it’s winter, otherwise he might have gone with shortie vestments. But I swear he’s a sweetheart. Just trying to find a nice guy with a priest kink.”
“Did you know the Santa gift thing comes from St. Nicholas throwing bags of money through windows to save women from being sex trafficked? The gold was for dowries to get them married off instead, which wasn’t necessarily better.” Great, now she’s sharing patriarchal fun facts. This Peter Parker guy has gotten her off kilter. “Sorry.”
“No, no. I didn’t know that — I’m Jewish, actually. On my dad’s side. But I was raised by a mostly agnostic Italian woman, so…”
The bartender interrupts. “Order’s up,” he says as he slides a tray of steaming mugs over. Peter takes ít, while Michelle grabs a few glasses of water, and they head back to their friends.
***
Turns out, all the new guys are pretty cool. Flash is a lot, but he’s funny and blunt in a good way and not too precious about anything, least of all himself. Harry’s warm and generous, ordering an absurdly expensive bottle of wine for the table, along with paying off Michelle’s open tab.
And Peter? The guy’s definitely a nerd, but self effacing and charming. His big brown eyes crinkle as he recounts some story about the students in his high school chem class. Something about holiday-themed chemistry demos gone hilariously wrong. The details are a little fuzzy to Michelle; she’d gotten distracted when her eyes drifted down to where his thermal undershirt was fighting for its life against his chest. Later, when Peter’s talking to Ned and the boys by the bar, she lets her eyes linger a little longer and thinks it might be possible to count his abs through the waffle-knit cotton.
When Peter glances back towards their table, Michelle quickly averts her eyes, only to meet the knowing smiles of Cindy, Felicia, and Betty. Caught.
“I knew you’d like Peter, MJ,” Betty giggles. “He’s great. He and Ned have been each others’ ride or die for forever. Mostly backing each other up in video game campaigns, but I hear they have thrown hands for each other.”
Felicia weighs in, “He seems nice — a bit too wholesome for my taste — but you could for sure bounce a quarter offa dat ass. Imagine the students’ group texts about the hot science teacher.”
Cindy nods. “Hot nerd? No incel vibes? I would’ve been all over that back when I was still into men.”
“Oh my god — shut up, he’s coming back.”
When Peter ambles back to the booth with a soda, Felicia abruptly rises, grabbing Cindy’s hand. “Welp, gotta break the seal. You too, Cindy?” As they shuffle past Peter, Cindy deadpans, “Our bathroom cycles are synced.”
Michelle facepalms as Betty snorts. “I think I need to fix Ned’s costume. His beard is, like, so askew.”
Michelle stifles some mortified laughter as Peter sits down across from her. “You hearing it from your friends, too?” he asks, amused.
Michelle nods, pinching between her eyebrows, and he continues, “Harry and Flash have been giving me a hard time about skipping out on the debauchery. Since you’re bailing too, wanna let them think we’re making out in an alley?” He gives her an exaggerated wink. “We can unsubtly leave together and you can watch your Hallmark movies in peace.”
“First of all, I don’t watch Hallmark holiday movies, I make fun of Hallmark holiday movies. There’s a difference. Second,” Michelle leans in conspiratorially, “where are you going, Peter?”
“Remember the mostly agnostic Italian woman who raised me? She runs a homeless shelter in Queens. They’re in a big final push to sort the toy and food donations. I’m headed back to help.”
Who is this guy? Michelle wonders. And she has to admit to herself that she really wants to find out. “…Could they use some more help? Definitely sounds way better than SantaCon. And, you know, marginally more worthwhile than ironically watching low-budget holiday movies. We can still let our friends think we’re making out in an alley.”
His eyes crinkle again. “Let’s go.”
Peter and Michelle get up to say their goodbyes, staying purposefully vague about their plans. When Peter turns to put on his coat, Betty offers two enthusiastic thumbs up. Flash extends his arms and mimes a blessing. Cindy and Felicia make gestures that would probably get them detention if they were students in Peter’s class. Michelle flips them all off and follows Peter out the door.
***
They spend the train ride to Queens exchanging stories about work and hobbies. Peter teaches chemistry and physics at a public school, and advises the academic decathlon team and the photography club. Photography is Peter’s side hustle. He occasionally freelances for news outlets and — more delightfully — has recently taken on pet portraiture. (The things he has to do to keep the animals’ attention can be a little debasing, but he still finds dealing with pets easier than human clients.) Peter flips through his camera roll, showing Michelle shots of an Australian Shepherd in the High Line at golden hour, a pit bull peeking out of a pile of autumn leaves in Central Park, a smooshy-faced cat officiously staring down the camera from an overstuffed armchair.
Michelle tells him about her legal aid work, mostly representing low-income clients in landlord-tenant disputes and elder abuse cases. She could’ve cashed in with a job in Big Law, but this work is fulfilling, and scholarships and savings from childhood modeling jobs helped keep her student debt down. Like Peter, she dabbles in artsy hobbies: sketching on her own, taking painting and pottery classes whenever she can. Peter peers into her phone for shots of her work and compliments her composition. When he suggests she might like photography too, she wonders if he’s volunteering to teach her.
At FEAST, Michelle meets Peter’s Aunt May, who immediately pulls Michelle into a hug. Michelle catches May flashing Peter a curious look, along with Peter’s quick smile and shrug back. May turns back to Michelle. “An extra set of hands is always welcome, especially tonight.”
“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” With a wave, Peter heads to the other side of FEAST’s warehouse space, grabbing a pallet jack to haul dry goods and fresh produce for volunteers to parcel into family boxes.
May turns to Michelle, “Keep an eye on that one. If he starts goofing off, you let me know.”
“Yes ma’am. Happy to narc for a good cause.”
May puts Michelle to work with the group sorting toy and gift card donations by age range. Over the weekend, lower income parents will be invited to pick out gifts for their kids. Michelle goes through the donation bins with Yessenia, a high school senior who peppers Michelle with questions about law school — she’s interested in immigration and labor law.
Michelle is slipping Yessenia her business card when Peter returns, sleeves rolled up and hair mussed. This man-of-the-woods look really works for him. “All done? May told me to tattle if you slack off.”
Peter raises three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“Hmm. That checks out, you do give off big Boy Scout energy.”
“I did get the badge for tying knots. And I got certified in mouth-to-mouth,” he quips with an eyebrow waggle. Michelle groans, but stores that info away.
“C’mon, rewards for our labor are in the cafeteria.” Peter takes her hand and leads her to a large room decorated with twinkly lights and a Yule Log crackling away on a wall-mounted screen. Michelle spots May across the room, laughing with a big sweaty guy who acknowledges Peter with a nod.
Michelle’s loading up at the dessert table when Peter offers her a mug. “Hot toddy? The coquito is also really good, but be warned Mrs. Martinez makes it sneaky strong — er, not that you have to have something boozy, we have spiced apple cider and virgin eggn—“
“—The toddy sounds perfect, Pete.”
They sit down at a table facing each other, sipping their drinks and unwinding after a couple hours on their feet. Michelle breaks the companionable lull, “This place is amazing.”
Peter beams. “May took the reins after The Blip, and she made it what it is. The shelter, soup kitchen, food pantry, ESL classes, job training.” Peter goes on, so clearly proud of May and of FEAST. Michelle feels her cheeks warming, and she knows it’s not because of the whiskey.
She checks something on her phone, and smiles at her luck. “Hey, wanna get out of here? I mean, if you’re done and it's not too late for you. Hallmark’s airing ‘Hanukkah on Rye’ at 10:30.”
Peter laughs, sputtering a bit on sip of coquito. “Yeah — um, yes. I’d like that — I’d like that a latke.”
“Don’t make me take this invite back.” (No chance. She secretly loves puns. And she’s already wondering if Hot Topic carries Jack Skellington apparel.)
***
Leaving takes a little longer than she expected, with seemingly everyone knowing Peter, but they eventually make it back out into the crisp winter night. Heading toward the subway station, Michelle loops an arm through Peter’s and his crooked smile back makes her stomach do a little flip. The promise she feels in this moment could ward off any humbug tendencies at least for the rest of the winter.
On the subway platform, Peter rubs Michelle’s hands between his to stave off the chill. They’re close enough that she can smell coconut lingering on Peter’s breath. His eyes flick down to her lips, but it’s Michelle who closes the gap between them, slotting her mouth over his and pressing him back into a tiled column.
They finally pull apart when a rush of air signals the arrival of their train, though Michelle can’t help darting back in for a quick nip of his lower lip. Their fingers interlock, a giddiness buzzing between them. Michelle’s pretty sure her Hallmark movie night won’t be happening after all. She’s certainly not mad about it anymore.
“When the girls ask me tomorrow, what’ll make for a better story, an alley or a subway platform?”
“It’s the season of giving, MJ — we have to make it the best story. I’m willing test all available options.”
After SantaCon, their friends might actually be too drunk to remember anything about tonight, but Michelle is ready to commit it to memory.