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Thus, We Gather

By Laz Briar

“I know, I know, it's been a while. Just busy, that's all. Always busy. It's what you wanted, remember?"

Ozzie was curled into a little ball of agitation and “catching up with the folks" – phone glued to his ear where his feet writhed with impatient wiggles. The television washed over him with a dull background hum while Anson scrolled through his laptop, smirking at Ozzie's grumbling yips.

“Yes, the money's still good," said Ozzie. “Yes, bills are getting paid."

Every now and again, Oz glanced to Anson with pleading eyes, who proceeded to shrug and offer only an amused smile.

“No, we weren't anywhere near that. I know. I know. Yeah, it was shit, but I didn't go there anyway."

December had a strange way of reminding people family existed. For Anson, every day was just another one with his boy. For others, these were the holidays, and that meant strangers from every corner of the States felt obligated to appear, say their hellos, and wish each other good tidings – genuine or not. Like clockwork, then, Ozzie got a call from his father, someone Anson was alarmingly unfamiliar with. He only got a fragmented idea of Ozzie's family, and so far, the picture was. . . messy.

“I'm not getting a gun, dad, holy shit. It's not that serious."

Anson could feel the ferocity in the father's reply, even from the distant garble of electric grunting. Ozzie's ears twitched, but he just sighed, like it was all matter of fact – routine.

“Yeah, well, mom's a cop, it's different. Look, I don't go alone, okay? It's fine, I promise. I'm just working."

Ozzie attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Metski send you the invite yet? Around that time, yeah"

Family, Anson assumed. He had to – first time he heard the name 'Metski.' He tried not to conclude things on his own. He'd know in time, after the call. But it was fun trying to form a picture now – of these people. These family members on Ozzie's side. It was still so surreal to him, the idea of big get togethers now. Hell, all of it was. This whole holiday was off to a contentious start.

Things between himself and his boy had stabilized since October. Distrust faded and again returned the gentle, nurturing love. Routine did its job and the pair just lived and, sometimes, it's all you needed. But while the two found comfort and solace in the other, the world buckled. Wildfires – some of the worst the state had ever seen – ate up thousands of homes and acres. A lot of people lost their lives, and this only came a week after a bar shooting, right in the heart of Thousand Oaks.

Anson never showed it, but it unsettled him. These were well out of his control, and if he couldn't control it, how could he protect his Ozzie? He dreamed of a horizon on fire, panicking. What would he do? He pushed these thoughts aside despite their frequency, best he could. No use drowning in fear over the unknown. But it ate at him, and the holidays proceed to sharpen this anxiety.

Of course, with danger lurking so close, it prompted calls from family, or at least Ozzie's side. Much to the yeendog's aggravation, this lead to – by Anson's current count – a near half hour call with his dad, who had everything a father should say in light of recent dangers.

Anson couldn't remember his last genuine one on one with his own father (or any on his family side, really), but he imagined it well enough: don't go to bars, where are you living, are you eating well, did you pay the electric bill, your mother is worried, when you are coming for a visit, you haven't called, etc.

No one – especially not a parent (a good one) – wanted to think of their kid trapped in a fire, or gunned down by an unstable shooter. Not near the holidays. But the world was a cruel, indifferent place, so, Anson didn't judge.

As Anson scrolled through his usual docket of daily news, Ozzie's melodramatic sigh washed over him.

“God, dad. I mean I'd love to, we'd love to, it's just kinda out there you know. We can't just come down for a visit? It'd be easier."

More inaudible grunting from Ozzie's phone. The yeendog's tone shifted.

“Yeah. All right. I get it. Yeah." His head dipped. “I guess I get scared too, I understand."

Anson heard what he imagined was a question, because Ozzie took a long, somber pause.

“He's uh. I don't know. Haven't seen him, I'm sorry. Haven't heard either. I'm sure he's okay, you know Ronnie, always been a tough fucker."

Anson pretended to continue his reading, but his attention was pulled. What was his father asking? How to even explain?

More words. Ozzie's feet continued to wiggle, tail thumping couch. “Mmm, all right. I'll try. We gotta' figure out what's up with work, they fuck us over a lot. But yeah, I mean, you'll get to meet him!"

Anson didn't look, but he could “see" Ozzie glance to him, smirk.

“Haha, I'll try not to, but that's not really fair. Mom dropped a 'fuck' every other night coming home."

Ozzie's chat began to wind down, until he swiped his phone off, heaving with relief.

“Fun call?" said Anson, typing a comment on the latest chimera focused House bill.

Ozzie shook his head. “Oh fuck me, man, he's worse than mom. 'We're worried honey, stop by for a visit honey, are you eating well? Hey the holidays are close by, what are you doing? Can you visit us?' On and on. . ."

Anson smiled, looking at his boy. “That's adorable."

Ozzie poked into Anson's side with his foot. “Yeah? Says you. I have this conversation every other month. And he asks the same thing. Dad, if it wasn't good I would be calling you, damn."

“They just miss you," said Anson, setting his laptop aside. “Parents do that."

The good ones.

Ozzie scoffed, and as if on cue, said “Yeah? Well how come your folks don't harass you about every damn thing every other week? Mind telling me the secret, man?"

Anson forced a chuckle, deciding to shift the subject.

“Well, it sounds like they want you to see them. That's not so bad, right?"

Puppy grumbles. Ozzie stretched out, his legs pushing into Anson, prodding with clawed toes.

“Not just them, Ansy. Oh no. Because it's time for every fuck-family-member-festival. It's every year. Dad's side, mom's side, the big house, we all catch up for a week and the alcohol sucks and it's cold and I have to hear about the adventures of my very straight relatives in their, I dunno, auto-parts job."

Ozzie's tail hastened its thumps. “No cute boys to ogle, just a lot of uncomfortable clothes and bad wine."

Anson pinched one of Oz's toes. “I'm not cute?"

“Mmm, this was before you. This is out in Washington, up with my Uncle Menski. Naturally, because he's you know, a dog, his family is kinda fuck-big. So he invites everyone he knows to his place, some huge farm house style thing up in uh, Wenatchee Hills?"

Anson shook his head. “I don't know it."

“Lucky you. Dad's side are busy bodies, they're chatty, and just exhausting. I mean come on man, you know, it's family. It's tiring. Half the time you gotta' shovel the driveway, the other half is spent listening to Janie go on about her trip to fuck-off land."

Ozzie set his phone on the table, absently glaring at the television.

“It's why I like mom's side more, sometimes we go down to Arizona and New Mexico. But it's just her sister, I think. Everyone else is too far out. But whatever, I guess. What else ya' gonna do?"

Anson considered. “It can't be that bad. I know it sounds irritating but it's nice to be around people who care about you. I'd really like to meet your family anyway, you know? Er, well."

More “family" than Ronnie, he thought.

Ozzie waved. “Yeah, I know I know. They've been on my ass about it too. Can't get away now, that's the holiday law."

“They don't mind your, uh, lifestyle?"

Ozzie shot a glance at Anson, muzzle tugged with a grin.

“What? That I'm a huge fucking faggot? Hah, no. Well I guess dad always wanted a lot of kids, but no. Ever since the dyed hair, the piercings, and my sneaking out with boys, they got the idea pretty fast."

Ozzie continued to rub at Anson's leg with toes. “It's not really a chimera thing to do, judging lifestyles. Stealing holidays, though? Yeah that part we like, apparently."

Anson chuckled. “It's not stealing, it's for everyone. I'm assuming you mean Christmas?"

“Mmm."

“Well, it's something anyone can enjoy, I think. It's about staying together, you know?"

Ozzie slowed his tail thumping. “Only one 'together' I care about, riiiiight here." He nudged Anson's side again.

Ah, the little things. A wellspring of warmth filled Anson, rubbing against the playing paw-feet. He didn't need Ozzie to reaffirm his affection, but when he did. . .

After a moment, Anson closed his laptop. “Well, look, I'm good with staying here with you. It's our first holiday together, like this, and I wouldn't mind having you all to myself."

Ozzie stretched. “Perfect! Let's do that idea, the one where I get to sleep my ass in and you make me a dinner, right?"

This time, Anson shot the yeendog a glance. "Or, ya little shit, we can actually see your family and get out of the state again. Things aren't exactly cheery."

Ozzie grumbled, whining. “Ugggh, you would say that. Come onnn, it's so cooold. What if we just stayed here and I like, suck your nuts or something? Make it a new tradition, we'll call it like. . . jingle balls."

Anson wasn't sure if wanted to laugh or take his boy up on the idea. He chose the former.

“Oz, good god. Come on. It'd be good for us. You really want to go a whole year without seeing your folks?"

“You wanna' see them that bad? What, you tryin' to flirt with my dad? You are his type."

The yeendog kept a wild, almost mocking grin.

“You've got a mouth and a half tonight," said Anson.

Ozzie licked his chops. “Maybe you oughta' stuff it full of something to shut me up."

Anson didn't know what was getting his boy so riled up, but he kept things on track. For now.

“Or, maybe let's try to make plans. You can't blowjob your way out of this."

A snort. “You sure about that?"

A sigh. “All right, all right. Let's settle down. I think – Oz – we should go. I know family is kind of the worst but, it's sometimes the only thing we have in this world. And when they're gone, well, that's it. We don't have to go, but I'd love to meet your family. And we'll be together."

Ozzie let his gaze drift, looking away. More 'puppy' whines left his muzzle, his tail wiggling.

“We don't need to stay for long. If you want to go back home early, we can. I just uh. . ."

I want to see someone on your side other than Ronnie, Anson thought.

“It's important," he said instead.

At first, the yeendog didn't respond. He was thinking it over, clearly, his gaze on nothing in particular, ears still, nose flaring.

“All right. . ." he said, eventually. “I think I can manage. Cause' you're right, we'll be together."

There was something else to that. Not warmth, exactly. Mischief. Subtext hiding in Ozzie's tone, like he had a plan. When Ozzie had plans, things got a little. . . sordid.

“And I do get to show you off."

Anson nodded. “You do."

“But I'm warning you, they're yappy as shit. Dogs have a lot to say."

He looked at Anson. “And you're a human. They're gonna' be all over you man. 'Oh I'm so curious, what's it like? What clothes do you like best? Do you deal with problems because you're dating our nephew?' You're gonna get grilled."

Anson chuckled. It was a strange thought, something he didn't muse over much.

“It's all right. I guess we are kind of a rarity these days."

A pause. Perhaps realizing the implication, Ozzie continued.

“You gonna' be all right with that?"

The implication meaning was Anson okay with being questioned about his, well, humanness. It wasn't a subject which came up very often, if at all. In fact, it was easy to forget about most of the time – Anson was generally distracted by the antics of chimera anyway. They felt like people, so to him, they were. They never treated him differently. And besides, it was the holidays.

A smirk. “You're not getting out of this one, Oz."

His boy rolled his eyes, but didn't challenge. They spent the rest of their evening in usual routine, save for a little apartment decorating. Anson's place was hung with tinsel and lights, though nothing extravagant. A tree wasn't really easy to come by either – not like the natural evergreens you could find in the southeast. And with travel plans made, it was harder to come by.

The next days were spent planning the holiday. Ozzie – with obliging reluctance – called his father back and told him he and his boyfriend would make it to Menski's place. Ozzie's dad was elated, of course, though Ozzie couldn't quite meet the same enthusiasm. There was awkward mention of Ronnie, where Ozzie said he'd pass along the invite if he saw his brother, but mostly danced around it. Though he loved his family, like any son might, big family reunions were always so stifling and awkward for him, and trying to bring Ronnie into the mix just made it worse.

As for Anson, no such formality was needed. He had considered sending Jasper and his husband a card, but all things considered since October, felt it in poor taste, at least right now. And, really, there was enough 'spirit' to go around at work to make up for it.

Indeed, Songbird was dressed at every level. Peppermint striping and lights for every cubicle, family pictures, Secret Santa (or Santa Paws, the chimera liked to say), sweaters, December jingles, and lots of warm wishes. It was, admittedly, comforting to Anson. Chimera were far more physical and friendly in their affections because of their animal disposition, so by the end of a work day he was covered in fur and feather. Yet, it was nice to see everyone so happy. The kinship they shared, the same kind he saw earlier in the summer, filled him with a sense of belonging, even though he didn't know them on a deeper level.

Though, one benefit was watching Ozzie come to life in a spirited way. Though they planned to leave to see his family in a few days, his boy embraced the holiday in both look and mood.

Ozzie was personable and more 'huggy' than usual, which was to say, he never was. He took pictures with friends, stayed an extra minute just to chat with coworkers, and even wore festive sweaters to match the holiday. Anson liked it – his boy looked good in winter clothing. And he also liked the cheery timber in his voice, the extra swagger in his stroll and jovial wave of tail. Despite everything, despite their difficulties, he was a happy 'yena. His holiday angel.

But as the work weeks finally wound down, it was time to make plans to leave the state. Washington was averaging ten degree days and below zero nights, so the pair had to pack heavy. Ozzie didn't even have a thick winter coat, so Anson needed to get him one (and instead of doing this himself, Ozzie fussed about what earrings he'd wear for the trip).

Of course, there were flight delays when it was time to go. Snowfall in Washington had caused problems so the two were stuck forking over bad airport food while waiting for things to clear, and weren't due to make it in until late afternoon. Hell, it even gave Anson second thoughts – all this for cold? He was terrible with it. The guts of the south were generally warm or searing, and Ozzie's disposition was hyena and dog. In other words, both liked it hot. The cold? Not exactly friendly weather.

But, reminding himself it was good for them – as a couple – he brushed the thoughts off. And, really, it was good for him too. It had been a while since he spoke with anyone on 'his side.' Like a few years. Like seven. This was a chance to make the holiday his own again, with Ozzie.

When it was time to board, he took one last glance at the midday California sky. Somewhere, the horizon was on fire.

-*-

“I guess Leesa's meeting us."

Anson rubbed his eye, yawning. The flight wasn't long, but the process certainly was, and already he felt fatigue. Boarding procedures and waiting for a plane to land could do that to you.

The quaint overtones of airport crowds and steward announcements fell over him, while Ozzie – at his side – thumbed through his phone. One of his relatives had texted Ozzie while they were airborne, and the yeendog was just now getting them as they strolled from their exit to one of the pickup gates.

“That your mom?" Anson guessed.

Ozzie shook his head. “Naw, dad's sister. Well, one of them."

He didn't lift his eyes, tapping in a reply. “Kinda surprised the whole family didn't come."

Anson had to put his arm around Ozzie's back and 'guide' him, since the silly bastard didn't bother looking up while they walked.

“They do that a lot?"

A shrug. “Ehhh you know, figure with all the whining about us coming over here and. . ."

His phone vibrated, another response.

“Oh, god that's why."

Anson couldn't infer meaning, he was having enough trouble trying to get around a particularly wide and slow moving family of bears.

Ozzie finally looked up, sighing, half-smiling.

“All right so she's gonna' meet us at Gate B6."

Anson caught the exasperation, stepping past the family. “She that bad?"

A chuckle. “Hah, no way. She just told me they're getting' shit ready at Menksi's home. And Suza, dad's other sister, has her family, meaning her kids, and they apparently want to go into town for Gathering."

He grumbled. “And that means we gotta do it."

Anson could only imagine what this meant. “Gatherng?"

“Hah, I'll tell you on the way. It's complicated. Really complicated. It's like family stuff, holiday stuff, chimera stuff. . ."

Well, Anson had enough 'complicated' on his hands trying to navigate through crowds and travelers, and he wasn't even sure if he was ready to meet the Washington cold. Suppose later would have to do.

By the time they reached the gate, Washington let loose its icy wrath. Winter air splintered over Arin's face and Ozzie gave an immediate shiver, tucking his tail.

“Oh fuck me," said Ozzie, stuffing away his phone. He pushed himself into Anson, writhing against the chill, while Anson felt like he was getting hit with thousands of tiny, freezing knives. The sky was blanketed with a sheet of grey and it was hard to believe snow wasn't piling on the ground, though there were indications of previous snowfalls along the busy airport streets.

Thank god for chimera smell, because Leesa – the mentioned relative – sniffed the couple out the near moment they wandered outside the building. Anson didn't know how long he could hold out against the December freeze.

“Oh my god, little Oz! Is that really you!?"

Bubbly and russet, a chimera of canine disposition pranced over to the pair, decorated in festive sweater and clothing. It clashed against her sunny ginger fur, long ears wobbling as she approached. If it wasn't for the narrower muzzle, Anson wouldn't have guessed she was related.

Apprehensive, Ozzie left the warmth of his partner's side – if for a moment – to grant a quick hug to his aunt.

“Heeeey, Leelee, been a minute!"

They embraced, tales wagging.

“Look at you, look at you!" said Leesa, eyes wandering over Ozzie. “When was the last time? Oh, you were in college, in college! Now you're so grown and. . . god, your hair? It's great! It's really great!"

Oz flushed. “Oh, well. I take care of it. Cold's gonna fuck up my gel though."

This incurred a frown from Leesa. “Ozzie! Language."

He shrugged. “What?"

She gave him a look. “Suza's got her kids with her, so keep it clean, would ya?"

Ozzie smirked, the kind of smirk he did when he was up to no good. Anson knew it.

“I'll try." He stepped back to his man, nudging him. “Leelee, this is my very special friend, Anson."

There was a wink, as if Leesa didn't know.

“Oh? Special huh?" Her attention shifted to Anson now. “Anson? It's so nice to meet you! Ozzie told me he was bringing a close friend along."

Uncertain, Anson glanced to his boy. “Uhh, yeah, we. . ."

A snort of laughter. “Hah, it's okay man. I just like messing around. She knows."

Anson wasn't sure what to make of that, and he certainly wasn't sure what to make of Leesa, who stepped forward and pressed her muzzle close, sipping at his scent, nostrils flaring.

Ozzie laughed a bit more. “Leesa! That's not how you say hello."

“Didn't I already?"

Anson kept still. The interaction was strange, as though he were just meeting a dog. A “normal" one. Usually formality dictated a handshake, but this was all so very. . . chimera.

“Ah, oh, sorry. Can't remember the last time I met a human!"

Anson brushed it off. “No problem." He held out his hand, where thankfully, Leesa took it.

“You've been keeping little Oz out of trouble, I hope."

Anson shrugged too. “You know, I kinda' like the trouble."

Ozzie looked away, but Anson saw his flush and smile.

“Look, not that I don't wanna' catch up Leelee, but my balls are gonna' turn to ice out here. Can we go?"

She growled. “We can, but seriously! Language!"

They followed Leesa to her car, a meek thing of green and five years outdated, where the couple eagerly tossed in their luggage. Ozzie sat shotgun, but Anson didn't mind, he had a lot to process.

As they started for Wenatchee Hills, gentle flecks of snow started to fall. Around them, roads danced with holiday colors of charming scarlets and cheery emerald. Tinsel wrapped itself around windows with “holiday specials" appearing on every storefront and building, makeshift snowman appearing on lawns amidst armies of holiday décor.

Leesa and Ozzie, in the meantime, caught up. Or, Leesa tried to catch up, though Ozzie was mostly deflective. His answers were brief and didn't explore much, and he didn't seem to want to ask much about family either.

“It's been a while though," Leesa would say, taking a turn. “Even me and Louie call to catch up time to time."

Ozzie grumbled. “I got stuff to do. Like work."

A dry chuckle. “Yeah? I thought you hated sales."

As they talked, the ambiance of Christmas themed song poured out from Leesa's radio, while Anson listened in silence. He was content to let them go on, the trip left him a little drained.

“I like fucking my boyfriend, too."

Another growl, this time much harsher. “Ozzie. Stop. Seriously."

One more turn, this time, down a road leading out from town, where buildings started to vanish, replaced by massive farm fields and open pastures.

“That kind of liberal humor isn't going to fly at the house. Definitely not with Suza."

Ozzie snorted. “Liberal humor? What's that supposed to mean?"

“What it sounds like, Ozzie. You know. Language. Jokes. About sex with your. . . boyfriend."

Anson heard this, and felt is stomach quiver. He thought to say something but watched his boy, noting the narrow eyes. Discomfort started to settle over him. Familiarity of “family." Of awkward conversations and heated words.

“Does my uncanny desire to suck dick bother you, auntie Lee?"

She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes firmly on the road. But her grip tightened and tail thumped on the driver seat.

“I don't care, Ozzie. Do what you do. Everyone knows you will, anyway. But just cool it, okay? This isn't the east coast where everyone, I dunno, rollerskates in thongs or something. Suza's got a family and she's really protective and my brother is. . . 'traditional.' You know."

Ozzie shook his head. “Hah, wow. You know, you guys were the ones who hassled me to bring my boyfriend to the get together. If you didn't want cock-gobbling Oz to show up, then why'd you ask?"

Anson really wanted to say something, but what could he, really? He was a stranger, again. And the last time he attempted to act on Ozzie's behalf regarding family, it ended poorly. But he bristled all the same.

“It wasn't my idea," said Leesa. “But it's because you're family and we love you. Come on, Oz, I shouldn't have to tell you not to be. . . crass. Neighbors are coming too. We're going to Gathering."

“So you want me to sit all nice and quiet, huh? It's okay if I brought my boyfriend, but only if we, you know, don't act like massive homos?"

Leesa grumbled. “Ozzie! It's not like that. Come on. Just language, is all I'm saying."

Anson piped in. “We're not here to cause a fuss."

At this, Ozzie looked back, his expression almost. . . wounded. But Anson returned it, a sterner look, the one he gave Oz when he needed the yeendog to settle down.

Leesa's tone wavered. “Oh, no, no, it's fine, it is. I didn't mean anything, you two, honest. I just don't like vulgar humor. And, well, I think the family expected either you or Ron to have kids at this point. It's just new."

“Everyone wants to see you again," Leesa continued after a while. “They do, Oz. But if you say the f-word, well. Don't, okay?"

Ozzie shook his head. “Ugh. All right."

The rest of the way was mostly quiet, and Anson didn't like it. Not this way. It was too familiar. The holidays, he had thought, were about sharing time together, goodwill to others, and family. But those values, over the course of his youth, were eroded. Family turned to enemies, goodwill to selfishness, happiness to pain and anger. And it generally started with the small things, the divisions between people.

He and Ozzie were gay. He loved his 'yena. He was, god help him, going to spend the rest of his life with Ozzie. He was willing to pay the price, if it meant not talking to “his" side every again, but he didn't want to take the same. Were they going to be judged too? The nature of chimera told him no, but, he was always suspicious. Ideas were learned, no matter who – or what – you were.

The alluded to “house Menski" finally appeared on the horizon a while after. Leesa and Ozzie fell into silence aside from some idle questions here or there, so the only sounds was the gently crunch of tire and asphalt with melodious music.

As far as the house, it was out of the way. Anson spied it even from the backseat, an ogre of a building, classically built with multiple stories, overlooking a wide, empty pasture. In the distance, beyond the grass, were thick forests with daunting evergreens mixed with skeletons of old oaks, some sporting sweaters of snowfall on their bare limbs.

The front, though, was not lacking. Beyond several parked cars near a makeshift lot of gravel, splendid decorations dotted nearly every free space. There were inflatable chimera sporting dancing hues, forests of little candy canes, wreathes on the ankles of the porch, and every other conceivable kind of thing you could toss on a house for December. It brought – in the otherwise dismal weather – a warm beacon of light, something Anson found comfort in.

“Wow," Ozzie said as the car rolled in, “Big Menski got busy this year."

Leesa smiled, tone brightening. “Well, their neighbor from down the way came to help. Said they had a bunch of leftovers from last year. Johanna? Yeah she said they bought too much so Menski was more than happy to take free stuff."

Once the car rolled in, Leesa parked it and the trio stepped into the cold Washington air once again. It was getting later in the afternoon and the temperature already started to drop, drawing shivers from both Oz and Anson.

But despite Leesa's promptness to move on, Ozzie wasn't quite so hasty, even as he got his luggage.

Anson joined him at his side, getting his own belongings. He could already see the hesitant stare, eyes tracing over the large house like it were an ominous being.

“You gonna' be okay?" said Anson.

Ozzie rubbed his eyes, tail drooped, running a hand through frosted mane. “Yeah. I guess."

He glanced at Anson. “It's a lot to unpack." A point to the house. “Them, I mean. The family."

“It's all right," said Anson, rubbing his boy's shoulder.

“Is it?"

“I promise it will be. I can try to. . . 'defect' if you need me to?"

Ozzie sighed. “Eh, nah. It's not that serious, I guess. Just been a minute since I've 'engaged' with all of this."

He gestured widely to the decorated home. “Already Leesa's on my ass with that prudent shit."

Anson chuckled. Though, as amusing as it was to imagine Ozzie going spiked collar and thong, it was best to keep things “tidy." There was something an old friend used to say, for everyone's sanity: keep the peace. Sometimes, it was better to just play along without causing or fuss.

“You guys need help?" Leesa caught their attention. She was already on the porch. Ozzie looked between her and his man, the smallest spark of genuine fear appearing in his eyes. But Anson wasn't going to let anything happen, that he knew. So he nodded.

“No, we're fine! One sec."

He pressed himself into Ozzie's muzzle, briefly. “Come on. Let's go meet your folks."

The yeendog whined with a little 'ugh' and they proceeded. Warm ambers and delicate greens washed over them as they approached, like they were entering some festive dimension.

Leesa was through the door first, and at once a barrel of elated voices and music slipped out from the opening. There was a gentle mix of gruff and feminine tones. Ozzie, despite his apprehension, went first, Anson close behind.

A siege of eyes, ears, and muzzles were on them.

They wandered into a large living room – big enough it sported a magnificent decorated tree and accompanying ornamentations scattered throughout. One figure, a portly dog a hand shorter than Ozzie, scrambled to his feet. His eyes bulged, ears pecked up, spotted muzzle wriggling.

“Oz! OZZ! Ho- HONEY! HONEY!"

He seemed to lose himself, uncertain of who to call first. Around him, there were other chimera, some lounging on a couch with a couple of younger pups playing with two others talking. Granted, they all quieted as the portly dog stumbled over, utterly crushing Ozzie with an embrace.

“Hey dad," Ozzie managed. He grunted while his father hugged tight. “HONEY! He's HERE! For GOD'S SAKE! Someone go get Brig!"

Again and again, Ozzie was embraced. His father released to look the yeendog over, as if to assure himself what he held was real, then hugged again.

Anson had a hard time fighting a smile. He could see the similarities – the spots, the lean muzzle, the taller ears. The gray fur gave it away most, though, the shades between father and son were identical.

Other chimera laughed.

“Easy Uri, easy!" said Leesa. “They just got off a flight."

Ozzie's dad, “Uri," barely registered this. “Well?" he said, staring at Ozzie. “Where's my hug?"

A snort. “If you'd stop trying to suffocate me."

But Ozzie returned it, tail wagging. It was stiff, though Anson could see, also genuine.

Wasn't long before another figure appeared. Her eyes and jaw went slack and, well, it was a repeat of Uri.

The woman busted into Ozzie and kissed him with many accompanying hugs. She, unlike Uri, was much taller, and quite a physical specimen. Her fur was brown and she bore a dyed white mane, while there was a sort of disciplined aggression to her motions. Clearly, Ozzie's mother.

“Oh! My little BABY! My little baby BRAT!"

Ozzie was helpless. Under siege of his doting parents, he had no choice but to weather their affections.

In the meantime, someone at least noticed Anson standing about. Leesa approached, wearing a smirk.

“That's gonna take a sec," she said. “You want to meet everyone real quick?"

He nodded. “Of course."

Slipping past the trio, Anson found himself in the living room, once more surrounded by faces he didn't know. The stranger in a strange land.

Two of the chimera were males, dressed in sweaters. They were talking, but turned to Anson, the first holding out a hand.

“This is my husband," said Leesa. “Luelle Habat."

He gagged. “Oh god, please, Louie will do."

He was a thin but tall thing, sharp black fur beset with icy green eyes. He sported a narrow muzzle too, and he'd likely disappear if he walked through a shadow.

“Nice to meet you," said Anson with a smile. “Anson Hillwick."

The other male smiled, repeating the shake. He was the same height as Louie, but far more broad shouldered, gold furred with a splash of white on his neck (and likely down the midriff). Hazel eyed, Anson couldn't figure the breed, but then again it hardly mattered with Chimera.

“Anson?" said this one. “Nice. I'm Rusker. But I like Rusty."

Rusty looked at his friend. “Wow, don't remember the last time I saw a human around here. Too cold for em, eh?"

Anson stiffened, but kept his smile.

Louie chimed in too. “Yeah, I bet." He looked at Anson in a sympathetic, if not almost pitying, way.

“Skin in the snow? That's gotta' suck. Dunno' how you do it."

Keep the peace. “It's not so bad."

Louie shook his head. “Dunno' bout that, I never see any skins down at shipping come winter time. Guess you all go west for the winter, hah."

Anson blinked. He wasn't sure if they were aware of what they were saying, or just dense.

“Oh!" started Rusty, gesturing to the couch. “The wife! And the pups."

Anson's attention was directed to a sitting lady, who smiled. She was curvaceous, bearing a mother's figure, watching her brood intently.

“Hiya," she said. She was long eared with a river of hair and matching white fur. “Nice to see a new face. Get a little tired of looking at that one all the time."

She stuck out her tongue at Rusty, who snickered. “Naw, she loves it," he shot back.

The pups, both black and white, were a little preoccupied with play. Which was fine, Anson had no energy for children, chimera or not.

". . . well you NEED to meet him."

Anson's attention was caught by shoulder tug. The yeendog was pulling Anson away, towards the curious eyes of his parents.

“This. . ." he said, propping Anson next to him, beaming. “Is my boyfriend."

Anson looked them over, uncertain. All at once, realization came over him. This was the closest he'd been to Ozzie's family in, well, ever. And, now, he had to make an impression. Because a brother was one thing, but parents? Extended family? Like anyone, he'd be judged. He wasn't just an outsider, he was a human. A stranger from California, a gay man, the reason their son wasn't going to have a traditional family. Strain like that was enough to stop family from speaking, and he'd already gone through it once.

“Hey there," he said, putting on his most amiable smile and pleasant voice. “It's really nice to meet you. Anson Hillwick."

He took the initiative, holding out hand.

Ozzie's mother was the first to take it. “You're definitely a surprise," she said. Her grip was strong, but not harsh. Anson cold see why she was a cop.

“I imagined more tattoos, and earrings. Dyed hair too."

Anson took a chance for some humor. “Ah, well, don't count that out just yet."

She chuckled, but the father didn't.

“Hillwick? Don't know the name." He took Anson's hand too.

Ozzie snorted. “Hah, dad, why would you?"

“Because I got you the job at Songbird, remember? And I knew just about everyone there."

Anson deflected. “Well, transition information for humans is kept on the low, most of the time. Complicated law stuff."

He wasn't sure if that was the exact reason, but he had something to offer, at least. Ozzie's father looked content with it, at any rate.

“Hmm. Well. They only keep hard workers." He looked to his wife and back to Anson.

“Uri Ryot. Good to meet you, son."

It was an odd thing to hear, considering Uri's literal son was right next to Anson.

“Brigit," said Uri's better half. “We certainly need more hard workers. We were worried this one was chasing indie cover bands the rest of his life."

A gesture to Ozzie, who shook his head.

Again, Anson joked. “Never too late for that."

And then, he considered. He had only just met them, and first impressions were important. He wanted to say more, but was he overstepping himself?

He chanced. “I'm really grateful you invited me out here. I know this is probably kinda' strange, but, it means a lot. Your son, Ozzie. He. . ."

A genuine glance to his 'yena. “He makes me very happy."

Ozzie flushed, fidgeting. He buried his muzzle in Anson's neck. “Oh god shut up man. In front of them, really?"

He laughed, cheeks turning red.

Brigit smirked while Uri crossed his arms.

“Oz. Come on now."

Uri looked at Anson, in a way a father stares at the unknown, but approves of it.

“Well. We were wondering why he wasn't coming around as much. He kept mentioning a 'special' someone."

Ozzie was shrinking, a ball of embarrassment, eyes going everywhere but his parents.

“You're a good person," added Brigit. “I can tell."

Uri grinned. “You're definitely taking good care of him. Hadn't called us for food money all year."

“Oh my goooood," growled Ozzie. “I'm right here. Right here."

“You sure are," said Uri. “And we're happy about that."

A mix of relief and warmth washed over Anson. He didn't know what to think of Ozzie's family, not yet. Uri struck him as a dog of business, past his prime but in his mentoring years. Brigit? Sharp and cautious. But he managed to make a good impression, or so he thought. He allowed himself, in a greedy sort of way, to imagine the years ahead. Dinners and outings and events. Get-togethers with Ozzie's kin. Conversations where the biggest hurdle was the formality of errands and minor details, rather than judgment of strangers.

“You kids staying for Gathering?" Brigit eventually asked.

“I'm not sure," said Anson. “it was mentioned a few times, but I dunno' what it is."

A flash of shock tugged at Uri's muzzle. “Really? Huh. Never heard of it?"

Ozzie scoffed. “Dad, why would he? That's not, you know. A human thing."

“Huh."

Uri rubbed his head. “Well that's a story and a half."

Before Uri could go on, the door creaked open. In stepped another silhouette with a whistle of cold wind, heavy jacket hiding his long, scraggly fur, pockets of snow forming on its outline. He huffed, tail flapping about; a stout dog, one even shorter than Uri.

“Balls o' fire it's getting' there. Big snowfall tonight!"

The others regarded him with familiarity, but the newcomer was quick to spot out the unfamiliar element. Eyes went straight to Anson, nose flaring, gaze curious.

Entered Menski. He was quick to rush over to Anson and give him a bright, endearing welcome. There was a slight accent to his voice, but Anson didn't know from where. Much like before, Anson introduced himself, his relationship with Ozzie, and what they'd been up to for the past year. Menksi listened, retaliated with an invitation to dinner and got them sped up on family plans.

The rest of the evening fell into this routine. Some other guests started to show up – neighbors from around Wenatchee Hills and a few other family members – until parts of the house were crowded. Menski was putting on a big dinner with help from Uri, kids were playing, and every other room was muffled with conversation, music, or the odd holiday television special and localnews.

Ozzie and Anson only found retreat in one of the provided guestrooms, a fairly small corner of the house with two plain beds and some basic lighting. It was enough to grant them some measure of peace, at least.

With the longest sigh, Ozzie threw off his jacket and clothes into a lazy pile, falling into bed.

“What a nightmare," he said. “I was actually gonna' die. I'm gonna die right now. See this?"

A point to himself. “Dying. Kill me now."

Anson laughed. “Oh it's not that bad. A bit overwhelming but, things could be worse."

“Oh?" Ozzie rolled to his chest, propping jaw in hands, feigning curiosity. “Do tell love."

“You could have to stand around for family photos in itchy sweaters."

“Don't fuckin' worry, that's coming."

Ozzie rolled around again. “But I'm not. And that's a problem."

Anson peeled off his own layers of warm attire, sitting next to his 'yena at bedside, petting him.

“Try to be good."

Ozzie frowned. “Am I not? Whaddya' call all that?" All that meaning his 'conversation' with the family.

Anson didn't respond right away. His own meetings with Ozzie's kin was brief but. . .

“Tense, I guess," he admitted. Keep the peace.

“I'm glad they like me," he added, seeking some optimism. “Was a little worried."

Ozzie didn't challenge. “So was I."

The yeendog looked at the ceiling, on back, hands folded on chest. “Man, they were asking about Ronnie. A lot."

Anson felt his heart shiver. “Oh, shit. Really?"

“Yeah. I kept telling them I didn't know where he was, hadn't heard from him. They don't know what he's doing."

“Maybe that's for the best."

“Maybe," said Ozzie. “Man. They were out of it. Just. . . off."

Anson rubbed at his boy's arm. He didn't really want to get back into all the old drama again, but, they were surrounded by extended kin. It was hard to avoid the subject. When a holiday promotes togetherness and connection with someone missing, it was easy to feel it.

“They probably miss him," Anson conceded. “And they missed you."

Ozzie's tail started to thump against the sheets in slow, gentle sways.

“I'm not good with this stuff. Brr."

“Well, just try to think of it this way: you're making people happy. And we're only here for a while. Enjoy family as they are, for all their quirks, even if they bug the shit out of you."

Anson looked at the wall. It was empty and plain, a vacant egg white. Much like the room, a little something forgotten, pushed to the side.

“Cause you know, someday, it won't be like that anymore."

Ozzie chuckled. “That's morbid."

“Well, Christmas is about hacking up trees and decorating their slowly dying bodies, so, yeah, the holiday is kinda like that."

Ozzie glanced at his man. “Ansoooon, that's dark for you." He grinned.

A shrug. “Eh. It's what the edgy teenage me liked to say."

“I like it," said Ozzie. “I mean, you're right. Why can't we just leave the poor trees alone?"

“Because they're pretty. Like you."

"Pretty?"

Anson poked Oz's nose. “Very."

Ozzie challenged with a lick. “I'll take handsome, but pretty?"

“Like the holiday. Uh, speaking of. I still don't know what this Gathering thing is."

Another quick sigh from the yeendog. “Buh. Like I said, it's complicated. A chimera thing."

“Try the abridged version, then?"

Ozzie smirked. He looked at Anson, but in a different way. A mischief making kind of way. The half-lidded “I'm in bed" glance he'd give when he was up to. . . something.

“How about a story, instead?"

The lithe yeendog rose, pushing his muzzle into Anson's neck, granting a little kiss. Then, his lips wandered to Anson's ear, and quite softly, did he speak.

“Long time ago there was this cute boy with his cuter boyfriend. And the cute boy was getting all riled up because, what the fuck, it's the holiday, and his boyfriend wasn't bending him over the bed."

Anson flushed. Ozzie's voice was low and sultry, carrying a 'come hither' kind of tone.

“Ozzie, what-“

A finger came to his lips. Another hand slipped down to Anson's groin.

“Not a sleigh! Not under a wreath! Not even near a big dying Christmas tree. Like, what totally gives? The cute boy had been good alllll year."

Now a squeeze. A soft one, the kind to hint at where Ozzie's hand was going, the kind causing Anson to stir. But this wasn't the time or place. This was someone else's house. What if a family member walked in? You could literally hear voices down the hall!

“That's not explaining. . ."

But Ozzie only continued, grinning.

“Pretty soon, the cute boy got impatient. He couldn't wait to open his special gift. He wanted it now. He was baaaad. And bad boys have to make up for it."

More kisses. Anson tried to resist, but all it led to was a persistent yeendog after his prize. Hot breaths tickled his ear and sordid thoughts flashed through his mind. Goddammit, Ozzie. Handsome bastard was riling him up, and the compounding stress from family affairs and travel didn't help. It couldn't hurt, right? To just let Ozzie. . .

“Is the cute boy supposed to be you?" said Anson, like the inquiry might slow Ozzie down. It didn't, of course.

A chuckle, then a palm rubbing into Anson's loins, enough to get his member twitching to life.

“Oh, how'd you guess?" said Ozzie.

The yeendog wasn't done. He slipped from the bed now, to knees, looking up at his man with wicked, though submissive, eyes. His nose prodded at Anson's crotch, hands on knees.

“You gonna' punish the bad boy?"

A grunt. Anson wasn't really a 'punishing' type, he hadn't quite hit that “character" for Ozzie. But he knew Ozzie's antics. He recognized the gaze, the desire. His heart was pulsing, blood becoming fire.

“You've been awfully mouthy, yes," said Anson, playing along. “What was it you said before? Stuff your mouth with something?"

Ozzie laughed. “Noooowww you're getting it."

Outside the door, some muffled voices caused them a pause, but only a moment. Rather, through the frame they could hear the warm timber of Christmas songs and happy jingles. All on the subject of merriment, goodwill to mankind, praising the savior, and so on. None about sucking cock, though.

“Stand up for me, babe," said Ozzie, patting Anson's knees.

Well, no going back now. Anson did so, where Ozzie feverishly pulled away the tethers, yanking free Anson's stiff shaft. At once, Ozzie supplied a warm, soothing kiss against the tip, his black canid lips wrapped around it while his eyes wandered it up in demure, submissive fashion.

“Mmmwha!"

Anson shivered, watching his crown vanish in the practiced, narrow maw, where Ozzie was content to laugh while he held it in place.

He popped it free, stroking the inches. “Shoulda' painted you like a peppermint. Like uh, a candy cane dick."

Anson chuckled. “You're uh, really getting into the spirit of things."

Here, Ozzie lifted Anson's shaft so the member rested itself atop Oz's features, while the long, sloppy tongue started to lap at Anson's testes.

“Mmmmf."

Content, the yeendog proceeded to suckle at the human stones, his soft jaw mouthing at each orb with gentle, lewd precision. Long strokes of the tongue were enough to lift them with sexual gravity, met with a barrage of kisses. If Ozzie used lipstick, they'd be wearing a glaze of it by now.

“Yeah, so maybe I am," said Oz, taking Anson's shaft and striking it against his face. “This is how I like the holiday."

It was hard for Anson to respond, at the mercy of his boyfriend's motions. He put a hand on his boy's head, stroking the frosted mane with approval while Ozzie continued to worship his testes.

Ozzie popped them free, licking chops, tail wagging as he forced the crown to stroke along his lips, never quite allowing the member to escape his oral grasp.

“Can this be a new tradition?" Ozzie said, sliding the tip in and out of his maw, letting it rest on his tongue. God, he was voracious. Anson knew he liked to go after his dick once in a while, but this was something else.

“What?" said Anson, shaky.

“Yeah, I mean. Why not? You get to jam your dick in my throat, and I get to jam your dick in my throat. A win-win."

It wasn't like the yeendog waited for an answer, as he swiftly proceeded to do just that: jam dick. Anson's inches slipped into the warm throat, locked down by hot, wet tunnel, Ozzie wriggling the thing until it fit in the oral chamber like a key to a lock.

Anson groaned aloud, but remembered where they were, trying to stifle it. It didn't help that Ozzie had started to toss his head on the inches in hungry fashion, slurping the prick with rumbling moans.

“Damn, Ozzie. . ."

Anson was forgetting himself, incurring a chirpish giggle from his boy. Oh, Ozzie had him now, location aside. Innocent pups could be singing praise to Jesus outside their door right now, and Anson wouldn't care. He just wanted more.

“Keep going. . ."

Ozzie paused, letting his tongue roll around Anson's crown. “Mm? You likin' it?"

He applied another sloppy, saliva dripped kiss. “That's what I wanna' hear. Merry dickmas, fucker."

Well, the yeendog was having fun, and Anson was beside himself. Soon, he was at the mercy of his boyfriend's attentions, who proceeded to toy with his cock and balls. His lips were so perfectly soft and graceful, sliding and dancing over the seething veins, only breaking to nurture Anson's testes with an assault of licks.

Soon enough, Anson was nearing his peak. He gripped Ozzie's head, carefully, finding balancing, as the intensity of his 'moments' tended to make him buckle. But Ozzie knew. He knew that sensation of Anson's tightening grip, so naturally, he worked harder. His lips curled and tightened until not even air could escape his muzzle, bouncing his head off Anson's mast, slurps resounding off the walls amidst Anson's muffled moans.

God, it took everything for Anson not to just fall over. It was astonishing, all of it. He had to watch, observe his boy outright worship him at the root, and it filled him with a strange warmth. Naturally, it was incredible having someone slurp you at the mast, but to do it so willingly? Ozzie got off on this, he knew, and it perplexed him. Not because he criticized it, but because it was so generous. It was giving. Ozzie was concerned, in this moment, only with how he felt, and that he would get to orgasm. He was putting his own pleasure as a side-thought.

Well, the yeendog's efforts weren't unrewarded. Anson felt his cock spike with seed, sharp waves of radiating bliss washing over his cock. It was enough he had to groan and freeze, and every motion heightened its intensity to the point where pleasure was painful.

Ozzie only smirked, gulping down every wave of seed as he mashed his nose into Anson's groin, cheeks flushing while the salty issue coated his throat.

“Hnnnmf."

Anson's heart raced as he gasped, watching Ozzie hold him there for a spell, at the mercy of the rowdy 'yena. Eventually, Ozzie took pity and released the mast, stroking Anson's softening groin with a finger.

“And so the bad boy got what he wanted from his handsome boyfriend."

Anson managed a laugh, pulling up his pants. “Great story."

“Oh yeah man, I love the cock sucking part. Where's that in your holiday special movies, hmm?"

Ozzie smacked his lips, savoring the flavor of his man. But Anson wasn't content to leave him there, pulling him up and into the bed.

“Nowhere, you handsome bastard."

Here, Anson kissed his furred cheek, drinking in the masculine perfume of Ozzie's scent. It was a nice mix of his natural ambrosia and a little holiday cologne he picked up for the season.

“But not done with you."

Ozzie flushed. “Nnh?"

Anson wasn't keen to leave his boy unattended, so he freed Ozzie from his own pants and quickly gripped the bare, satin cock in palm. Ozzie wriggled, but Anson held him close, stroking at the warm mast as it sprang to life. It had been a while since Anson got to play around with his boyfriend, and he certainly liked to reciprocate.

“Now, you still haven't told me about this Gathering. . ."

Ozzie moaned, watching his cock toyed with. Anson's palm stroked at the inches in slow, tedious swings, making sure to cup at black testes and wobble them in hand. Gently though – he was always so careful. It was enough to get Ozzie hard, fast, especially when Anson stroked at the tip and sides where Oz was most sensitive.

“Ah, aww, c-come on man!"

Anson kissed the 'yena's cheek. “Is it that had to explain?"

A whimper. “Well it is now cause you're messin' with my dick!"

Now it was Anson's turn to take the momentum. “Ahh, come on, it's not that hard."

He continued to stroke, quickening now, feeling Ozzie's mast twitch in his fingers.

“Don't make p-puns, you fuck."

“I won't, if you just tell me."

Really, Anson didn't want to know that much, but he was curious. It seemed so uniquely chimera, and they were a people he was still trying to understand.

Ozzie grumbled, sucking in a breath, watching his cock dance between Anson's strokes.

“A-aggh. Fine. Fu- fine. It's just a holiday, aahhh. Just a holiday where we all get together and sing songs and shit."

Ozzie was starting to flush, a little pre dribbling from his cock tip.

“That it?" said Anson.

“Rrgn. No. It's just, uh, a c-chimera thing. Cause I dunno, we didn't have a holiday of our own or something, and uh, we would just get together and act nice and remember the whooole. . ."

He trailed off, neck craning as Anson toyed with his testes, massaging them, then returning to the inches to pump his hand faster.

“The whole, urg. The whole togetherness thing or some shit."

Anson chuckled, kissing his boy again. Well, he wasn't going to get a clear explanation this way, but he wanted to try.

“Cute," he said, hastening.

At this point, Ozzie was a ball of wriggling 'yena, and Anson finished him, though slowly. He took his time, edging the yeendog to peak, working the shaft over then letting it rest, then doing so again, repeating and so on. When Ozzie did finally peak, a jet of white nearly hit the room wall, while Ozzie's face was as red as Christmas tree ornament by the end.

“You asshole," Ozzie said between smiles and heavy breaths. “You messed up the ending to my story."

Anson wiped his hands, going to the room's bathroom to wash himself.

“We'll work on it," he said, returning with a tissue for Oz. “But maybe back at home."

They changed clothes afterward, certain to make sure their 'business' wasn't noticeable. Dogs, Ozzie mentioned, had a way of sniffing out peculiarities, especially in their own house.

A while later, more family and neighbors showed up. By late evening Menski had whipped up an enormous dinner with some help, and the house was bloated with noise and strange faces. Anson did his best to remain sociable, but found it challenging, as it was hard not to feel so out of place amidst a family he didn't know.

But, as always, Ozzie stood by, his holiday angel, helping him feel at home, even if the home wasn't his.

-*-

If Anson thought it was cold before, then he was ill-prepared for the night's chill.

Even with an additional layer of sweater, the bitter evening air still wove its way past the fabric, causing him to shiver. His only respite and source of external warmth was Ozzie, who was still at his side, though just as jittery.

Even the town-lights, which bathed he and his boyfriend in warm holiday colors, did little to take his mind off the weather, as dollops of snow were starting to fall. Of course, this was met with happy cheers and playful yips as cubs and kids alike played in the fields of white.

“Now you see why it sucks," said Ozzie, who was practically smothered into Anson's side. “It's always late at night. So fuckin' cold."

'It' meaning Gathering, the event alluded to. As the name implied, it was where chimera from nearby joined together as a community and celebrated just that: each other.

Before the couple left, there was a big dinner at Menski's house, and there, Uri told Anson all about the event. He explained that while Christmas was still widely celebrated, it was predominantly a human holiday. Chimera were an afterthought in this regard, lacking their own voice, their own beacon.

Gathering was celebrated at night, when Vaeshka, the first chimera, was successfully bred. From this birth, chimera were the beacons of survival for their human makers, and naturally, celebrated this collective. Gathering, then, was about remembering each other, about living, about family, about loving one another in times of great uncertainty, about celebrating life in the face of extinction.

“Told you to bundle up," said Anson, putting an arm around his Ozzie's back. Ozzie just grumbled.

Yes. Anson could see it. Even though Ozzie fidgeted and moaned, there was a spring to his step. Around them, the town – New Ancora, a chimera founded one – was a display of vitality. The sidewalks were busy and lights flashed in dizzying hues. Decorations were alive and festive tunes played. Ozzie's kin were talking and walking together, the sort of thing Anson forgot people did when they cared for each other.

In these people, these hybrids, he discovered something he hadn't seen in his own kind for a very, very long time. He reflected on Uri's words, and what they meant. He wanted all of this to work, especially for his boy.

Eventually, the couple and town-goers came to the central square, where an enormous tree was erected, a brilliant spectacle of emerald and white. Around it there were crowds and in front a small makeshift stadium with a podium. In front, a ram chimera, one who looked weathered beyond his years, was prepping to speak.

Anson paused. He looked around at the painting of sights come to life. It was all such a mosaic of the holiday, a vision come to life like the kind you heard in a corny Christmas song. But it was real.

It didn't matter if it was tacky. It was there. And so was Ozzie. It didn't matter that Ozzie was a little agitated, bundled in winter clothing with his muzzle tugged with a feigned frown. The town lights caught on his fur, like they did back in the summer with the fireworks, but this time, he was far more than a friend.

Apparently, Anson was staring, because Ozzie shot him a glance.

“What?"

Anson smiled. “Ah, nothing."

But it was something. Even for all their stiffness, their quirks, now Anson knew some of Ozzie's family. Rusty, Lou, their wives, their kids, Uri, Brigit, and a cast of neighbors. For once he felt welcome, part of something greater than himself.

His thoughts were cut off by a mic check as the ram took place at the podium.

“It's nice to see you all again," he said, voice low and soft. “Happy friends with their happy families."

Ears flagged and tails slowed as he spoke, drawing attention from everyone in the square.

“I think I see more young faces than last year. More visitors too?"

Anson didn't know if the ram meant him.

“I'm glad, you know. I'm glad you all are here, for Gathering. This is our fourteenth annual festival since the town's founding. Nice isn't it? That's a long time. Long time for all of us to remain friends and remember what's important."

As the ram started to speak, Anson heard Ozzie give a little huff.

“This uh, might go on for a long time," said the yeendog in hushed tones.

Anson looked at Ozzie once again, a silhouette of his affections. His own hand reached out, gripping Ozzie's palm, wringing fingers through digits, gripping. Like the first time, back at home, at the park, where it all started.

“I hope it does," said Anson, pushing himself as close to Ozzie as he could. Yeah. He hoped it would go on forever.

The ram, after his greeting, wove into a speech about the importance of one another, as the spirit of Gathering implied. And each word helped Anson realize how valuable Ozzie was to him, and all of this, even if he wasn't a chimera. Even if the future of his own species was uncertain.

“The world, my friends," said the ram, “Is full of so much pain and cruelty. Terrible things are done for terrible reasons. People hurt each other. Because they're sad, or angry, or afraid. So, we have an obligation, my friends, to be as kind as we can to those we know. To those we meet. Please, be full of love, as I know you are. Love yourself, and your family, and your friend. The bagger, the delivery boy, the IRS worker."

There was an audible chuckle.

“Remember why we are here. We are here to carry a legacy. We are here because Mother Vaeshka was made for the salvation of others. We owe it to them to go on as a loving people. We owe it ourselves to hold so much love in our hearts, it hurts. Can you do that, my friends? I know you can."

Anson, again, found himself staring. Ozzie noticed too.

“W-what?"

Anson took Ozzie by the cheeks and kissed him. “I love you."

Ozzie blushed, but didn't resist. “M-nnfm. Lff yytoo," he said, muffled.

They fell into an embrace, uncaring of who might see.

It wasn't so cold anymore.

-*-

Dear reader,

I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading this series as long as you have. The stories of Ozzie and Anson have been important to me, a mixture of self-discovery and character exploration. It is the first time, in my life, I've ever dedicated myself to the world of two characters for so long. And, there's still much more to tell.

When I published this, it was at the end of 2018, a year I went through a lot of life changes. A lot of bad ones, a lot of good ones. But Anson and Ozzie were always there, and from that, their love continues to grow.

So, it's from this I want to give you a message: you are loved, no matter where you are or when you read this. The holidays are about goodwill to each other, and togetherness, and family. Sometimes, we don't get that from the people we expect. Sometimes we're out on our own. But even still, you're loved and important. There are kind people in this world who want to know you, and want you to be happy. I know I know do.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others, if you can. It's hard, I know. Kindness is a hard thing to temper, a hard gift to give. Our world is full of so much pain; you only need to read the news to see that. So, in our own way, let us be good to each other, if we can.

With that, take some time this end-of-year to spoil yourself. Drink a little nog, hug your cat, go to a handsome-wolf boy strip club (Santa, I'm waiting). And then, maybe, be kind to someone in your own way. Let us remind each other we're not alone, that happiness can be found, even with strangers.

Happy holidays, Merry Christmas, and I'll see you all next year for 2019.

-Laz Briar