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In the days following, Noel was informed there would be Saint Cassian’s very first Secret Santa—or at least the first one that should actually mattered, in Noel’s very much so humble opinion.
because—and only because—he had spent weeks dropping not-so-subtle hints to his friends about his heart's desire: a pearl necklace. Sure, it was very cliché of him, but Noel had a vision. He could practically feel a hot, brooding mystery man gripping those pearls, hauling him close, and slamming him onto a mattress—only for Noel to flip the script and out-dominate—
"Yo. The kid wants chips n’ nachos. Move it."
The voice of his coworker ruined his train of very important thoughts. interrupting a daydream of that level was very much so a hate crime.
But his coworker wasn't lying. Standing at the counter was a boy Noel recognized immediately: Ricky, the quiet kid from choir. He was already holding up his AAC device, his expression patient but expectant.
Ricky tapped the icons one by one: "I... would... like... a..."
Noel’s mind was still galaxies from Ricky’s orders. What if the man from my dream is real? He wondered wildly. What if he isn’t some faceless stranger? What if that fate belongs to—dare he dream it—his actual crush? What if it’s M—
"Focus, man! What is your gay fuckin ass even thinking about? Fallin’ in love with the customer?" His coworker asked, oblivious to the fact that he was currently flipping a Quesadilla that had reached the most charred state Noel had ever seen.
"Ew—no, not Ricky!" Noel snapped.
But when Noel whipped his head back to finish the transaction, the space in front of the register was empty. Ricky was gone.
Noel blinked. He hadn't heard the retreating voice of footsteps, nor the sounds of crutches against the tile.
“Your fault. tellin’ the manager you scared 'em off~” his coworker teased with a shrug, only to realize the massive blunder occurring right under his nose. The quesadilla on the press had been reduced to a charred remain. “Holy fucking shit!”
Noel offered a dry smile. “Now, that sounds like none of my problems.”
When Noel finally stumbled through his front door, his plan was simple: rest, and another rewatch of The Blue Angel, since he had memorized the script and the choreo arleady, he could laze around while rewatching it in his head, but the universe—and Mrs. Gruber—had other plans.
His mother had clearly just returned from a Zumba lesson, leaving an outfit of neon spandex in her wake. As the dutiful son he was, he knew he should gather the laundry and restore order to the living room.
On the other hand, he could rewatch The Blue Angel in his head…
—
After finally dragging himself through his "dutiful son" chores Noel launched himself at the couch. He was met with the pain of a stray spring that nearly impaled him, but he didn't care. He was ready for cinematic bliss.
Except, that happiness was surely short-lived.
"Noel, honey! Where’s my blood pressure medicine?" his mother called out, effectively killing the mood. By the time he’d navigated the medicine cabinet and listened to a twenty-minute recap of her "shaking it to Shakira," his movie time was dead.
"Oh, Noel, Doesn't your school group do that Secret Santa exchange tomorrow? monday the 14th?" she added, checking the already-peeling fridge calendar
The remote slipped from Noel's hand. Monday. Tomorrow. In his head, he had lived a thousand lives where he was gifted a pearl necklace, but in reality, he hadn't even bought a pack of gum for his own giftee.
"Monday?" Noel choked out, “But, tomorrow is Monday?"
He scrambled for his phone, pulling up the group chat he’d muted three days ago to avoid Ocean’s long texts and lousy complaints of the others not being in the same class as her, but Noel digresses.
There it was, pinned at the top: ST. CASSIAN’S SECRET SANTA – GIFTS DUE MONDAY MORNING. MINIMUM $20. DON'T BE A GRINCH.
He was surely a Grinch. with totally zero options open past 9:00 PM and a bank account that doesn’t approve of a Secret Santa.
He looked around the room in a panic. What could he possibly give? His mother’s discarded Zumba weights? A half-empty bottle of Taco Bell sauce he stole last fortnight? He needed something that said 'I am a thoughtful friend'
Then, his eyes landed on a small box tucked away in his mother’s skincare drawer. The sunscreen his mom just bought from the mall.
With the gift settled, he felt calmer, but Noel didn't even know who he was supposed to be buying for. He fumbled for his phone in his pocket. He scrolled through the website for the secret santa, praying it was the brooding guy of his fantasies.
He looked at the name.
Ricky Potts.
The air left Noel’s lungs. "Come on..." he groaned to the ceiling.
Not the brooding boy, the dark-eyed handsome. Instead, he had the boy who had just watched him have a sexually-frustrating fantasy at a Taco Bell counter—the boy who could apparently teleport or turn invisible the moment Noel’s back was turned.
Giving a random kid a bottle of SPF 50 is such a tragedy. Noel was the worst Secret Santa in the history of Saint Cassian’s.
He wrapped it up with a plastic bag and some tape—Ocean would be a little concerned about the material at hand, plastic? for the ocean? that’s what she would say, noel thought.
—
Noel wrapped the box using a crumpled plastic grocery bag and an excessive amount of tape. It looked like a suspicious package, a bomb perhaps. Ocean would have a heart attack, Noel thought, imagining his classmate's inevitable lecture on how long microplastics take to decompose and the death of the sea turtles. Plastic? For the ocean? He could practically hear her voice echoing in his head.
But Noel certainly didn’t care.
Father Grover announced, his voice overpowering the morning chatters, "Alright, everyone, You may now present your gifts to your secret partners. This will continue through lunch—and after school, should you share any clubs, provided that…"
Noel tuned the rest out. Good? Wasting his precious lunch break on this?—Well, he didn't really have Lunchables money to eat with, let alone the energy to play along with this festive bullshit.
He scanned the crowded hallway, searching for the top of a familiar head. It wasn't easy—Ricky had a way of blending into the background. Finally, Noel spotted him at his locker, struggling with a heavy math textbook.
Noel walked up and thrust the plastic-wrapped monstrosity toward him. “This is for you. Secret Santa,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at Ricky’s face.
Ricky paused, his fingers over his AAC device. The voice of his AAC said: "Oh. Cool. Thanks." He paused, then typed again. "C-O-N-S-T-A-N-C-E has her gift for you and—"
Before Ricky could even finish the sentence, Noel turned on his heel and bolted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ricky’s face scrunch in confusion—or maybe just a reaction to Noel’s blatant rudeness.
Whatever, Noel justified to himself. Ricky’s used to being ignored anyway.
Besides, his mind was already racing toward Constance. She was... well, she was significantly better off than he was. In Noel’s world, financially stable meant "buys the good stuff,” additionally they were good friends. He found himself leaning into a copious amount of hope. Maybe his dreams of that pearl necklace weren't dead after all.
He was expecting a lot. Perhaps, as usual, a little too much.
Noel had planned to head to the gym—not to exercise, obviously, but to sit on the bleachers and eavesdrop on whatever gossip the popular kids were spitting today. But he never made it.
A pair of hands—firm, but not quite rough—grabbed his shoulders and shoved him backward into an empty classroom. The door clicked shut, making Noel’s heart lurch into his throat. He stumbled, nearly tripping over a stack of choir folders, and landed hard against a desk.
It was Misha.
Misha looked like he’d been electrified. His hair was a mess, and he was standing there with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. He looked less like a brooding god and more like he was about to throw up—or run away.
"Misha?" Noel squeaked. "What—is this a kidnapping? Because I don't have ransom money, I barely have bus fare or any commute—"
"I heard you," Misha blurted out. He was staring at a spot on the chalkboard about six or seven inches above Noel’s head. “In hall. Last week. You were talking to Constance about… about pearls. And bed… bed thing."
Noel felt his soul leave his body.
Misha finally looked down, his face a deep red that matched Noel’s. He took a step forward. "It was very descriptive, And I… I been thinking about it. lots."
Noel blinked, his mouth hanging open. "You…have?"
"Yeah." Misha reached out, his hand shaking just a little as he grabbed the edge of Noel’s school-administrated sweater vest. It was very much so uncinematic, he just sort of held on. "So. Are we gonna… or am I just gonna keep standing here feeling like idiot?"
Noel looked at Misha’s nervous expression, the way his eyes were darting everywhere, and realized the brooding guy was just as terrified as he was. It was weirdly endearing.
"I think we should probably do something about it," Noel whispered.
"Okay. Good. Yeah."
Misha leaned in, but he miscalculated the distance, and their foreheads bumped.
"Ow—sorry," Misha hissed, squinting.
"It’s fine! It’s fine, just—" Noel reached up, and cupped Misha’s face with a little trembling.
Misha’s lips were chapped, and he was breathing too fast, but he finally wrapped his arms around Noel’s waist and pulled him flush against his chest.
Noel let out a shaky breath, his fingers tangling in the hair at the back of Misha’s neck. As Misha hid his face in Noel’s shoulder, exhaling a relieved, shaky laugh, Noel decided that the reality was a thousand times better.
Misha’s hands, which had been hovering uncertainly at Noel’s waist, finally settled. He slid them lower, his palms grazing over the denim of Noel’s jeans to find purchase on his ass.
"God, uhm—" Misha choked out, pulling back just enough to look at Noel.
"You want to?" Noel whispered,
Seeing Misha nod enthusiastically, he leaned in, peppering Misha’s neck with soft kisses. "Nnh..."
But then, Misha’s knees hit the floor, his hands never leaving Noel’s hips. He stayed there for a second, his forehead resting against Noel’s stomach as he tried to catch his breath.
Noel looked down, his fingers still buried in Misha’s hair, feeling a surge of power and terror all at once. Slowly, Misha’s hands traveled around to the front, his knuckles brushing against Noel’s crotch.
With fingers that were still trembling slightly, Misha reached for the tab of Noel’s zipper, his eyes looking up to Noel's face as if asking for permission one last time.
Noel nods, his breath hitching as the sound of the zipper is the only thing that disturbs the silence of the room.
Misha moved to pull his boxers down, Misha, on the other hand, was experiencing a full-scale crisis. He had never done this. Not once, Nada. He had seen things, sure, and he had his own daydreams, but the reality of another person was a lot more harder than he expected.
Improvise, a voice in the back of his head whispered—something his mother used to say about her dangerous job, though she definitely hadn't meant it like this.
With a shaky breath, Misha reached out. His touch was tentative at first, his thumb brushing over the tip before his hand closed around the shaft. He started stroking Noel, his eyes fixed on what he was doing, a gasp escaped from Noel.
The sound sent loads of confidence to Misha. He adjusted his grip, finding a pace that felt good, or what he thinks is good in his standards. Every time Noel’s hand hit the desk behind him or a moan escaped his throat, Misha felt a little less lost. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against Noel’s thigh, focused entirely on his hands and the way Noel was trembling under his hands.
It was very much so messy, and he was definitely winging it, but based on the way Noel’s fingers were digging into his shoulders, Misha figured he was doing alright. Especially with Noel’s precum dripping to the floor.
Noel was unraveling. His head was thrown back and his breath was coming in short bursts that sounded like he was running out of air. He was close—Misha’s brain went into deep thought. He needed to finish this and he had to do it now.
Ditching the cautious pace, Misha leaned in. He pressed a kiss to Noel's tip, and then, without letting himself overthink it, he took Noel into his mouth.
Noel’s entire body jerked, his back arching off the desk as a choked sound escaped him. He collapsed backward, to the desk, holding it for dear life.
Misha didn't flinch. Without letting himself hesitate or overthink anything, he swallowed as he finally pulled back.
As the spots cleared from Noel's vision and the feeling returned to his legs, a thought ran through his mind. The fantasy wasn't finished, he couldn't just lie there. He wanted to return the favor. He wanted to see Misha look as wrecked and breathless as he felt.
But as he looked down at Misha—still on his knees, looking up at him with messy hair and dazed, dark eyes—Noel hit a wall.
How do you—how does anyone—even say that?
His brain had officially curdled. He couldn't just say, "My turn~!" like what Penny Lamb likes to say during a board game with the other choir members.
He just stared at Misha, his mouth opening and closing. He wants to be the one in control. But the bridge between wanting to suck Misha off and actually asking for it felt about 364.4 smoots (plus an ear) long.
Misha noticed the gears turning in Noel’s head. Instead of making him say it, Misha cleared his throat, his face heating up again as he gestured vaguely toward his own lap.
“T... try?” Misha stammered, the word barely a whisper.
Noel swallowed his pride along with his panic. He gave a nod. “Suck? Yeah. Definitely. I can… I’m on it,” he blurted out, trying to reclaim some of his lost dignity.
He scrambled off the desk and sat on the cold, hard floor in front of Misha. He expected to just stay there, but Misha reached out, his hands gentle but firm as he guided Noel lower, urging him to lie back against the desk’s leg. Noel went willingly, though his mind was racing—Misha was a godsend for understanding his silent cues, but now he had no idea what the other boy was planning.
Misha didn't keep him wondering for long. He shucked off his own bottoms, the fabric pooling around his ankles. Before Noel could even think about the view, Misha leaned over him.
As Misha moved, his weight settled on Noel's stomach as he guided himself into Noel's mouth.
"This… okay?" Misha asked, his voice cracking slightly, his eyes searching Noel’s for any sign of hesitation.
"A-a-a… a-okay!" Noel stammered, his heart hitting against his ribs. Misha didn't need to be told twice. He let out an exhale and began to move.
The desk leg was unforgivingly cold against his back, but as Misha found a pace, those details faded into the background. Misha’s hands found the floor on either side of Noel’s head, bracing himself as he thrust upward, his breath hitching with every sharp intake of air.
Noel focused entirely on the sensation—the heat, the saltiness, and the way Misha’s thighs tensed with every movement. He reached up, his palms flat against Misha’s stomach.
Every thrust was a bit more confident, a bit more demanding, until Misha’s fingers were curling into the desk and his eyes were squeezed shut in total concentration.
Noel’s mouth felt completely full, a sensation so arousing it might make him hard. He watched Misha’s face through a haze—the way his brow was furrowed, the way he looked like he was in actual pain from how good it felt.
But then, Misha’s pace stopped. He let out a choked-off sound, and in a moment of panic, he pulled back.
He didn't make it far. He exhaled as he came, the heat hitting the crook of Noel’s neck and collarbone.
“Haah… haah…” Misha slumped forward, his forehead coming to rest against Noel’s chest as he tried to remember how to breathe. “Sorr—sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t want to mess up your hair. Or, I don't know, I just—”
Noel laid there, staring up at the ceiling tiles of the classroom, his heart rate finally beginning to stabilize like a normal person’s.
“It—it’s okay! Just… a little confused why you didn't… you know… keep it inside? I wouldn't have minded the finish.”
Misha let out an embarrassed laugh into Noel’s vest sweater. “I’m new at this, Noel. Give me a break.”
“Fair enough,” Noel whispered, a smirk on his damp lips. Misha shifted, still hovering over him, he looked down at the mess on Noel’s neck and collarbone, then back up at Noel’s eyes.
"Isn't this... what you want?" Misha asked softly.
Noel blinked, his brain still a bit foggy from the adrenaline. "I mean, yes! Obviously! Ten out of ten, would recommend to a friend—well, maybe not a friend—"
"No, not sex thing," Misha interrupted, "I mean... pearl necklace thing."
Noel froze. He stared at Misha, trying to process the joke. He looked back down at himself—at the glistening streaks across his skin where Misha had just finished.
Then, it clicked.
The pearl necklace. He had wanted the guy to give him one, and Misha had delivered—not exactly in the way he’d like it, but he appreciates this nonetheless.
Noel let out a wheeze of a laugh, covering his face with his hands. "Oh my god. You did not just go there."
"You said you'd cherish it," Misha teased, pulling up his pants.
"I hate you," Noel groaned into his palms, though he was smiling so hard it hurt. "I literally hate you so much. That is the worst Secret Santa gift I have ever received."
"Better than the whatever you gave your giftee," Misha pointed out, finally collapsing onto the floor beside him.
Noel laughed, rolling onto his side to look at the boy who had just turned his ridiculous daydreams into a very sticky reality. "Hah! it was Ricky, gave him… sunscreen.”
“See? I am right then," Misha murmured. He leaned back over Noel, moving in for another kiss.
Click.
The door swung open. Standing in the doorway was Constance, her eyes blissfully closed and a wrapped gift held high in her raised hands. Beside her, the sounds of crutches echoed against the tile—Ricky had clearly been invited along for the reveal.
Ricky’s eyes went wide. He froze, his gaze darting from Misha—who was very much still on top of Noel—to the pale fluid glistening on Noel’s neck. Ricky frantically tugged at Constance’s sleeve, his face turning into a silent plea to leave right now, but her eyes didn't budge.
"Surprise!" Constance chirped, her eyes finally snapping open.
The pose died instantly. Her hands dropped. She looked at Misha, Noel, and then, the substance.
Ricky tugged her sleeve again, harder this time, his crutches clattering against the doorframe in his haste to retreat. Finally, the reality of the scene processed in Constance's brain. She grabbed Ricky by the shoulder, spinning him around.
"I AM SO SORRY!" Constance yelled, her voice echoing down the hallway as she slammed the door shut.
The sound of her sprinting footsteps and the frantic sounds of Ricky’s crutches faded into the distance at record speed.
Noel and Misha laid in the sudden silence of the classroom.
"Well, I don't care if that was a pearl necklace now." Noel whispered, his face flushing.
"Well," Noel whispered, his face flushing a deeper red than he thought humanly possible. "I officially don’t care about getting a real pearl necklace anymore. That was... enough drama for one day."
Misha chuckled and reached for a stray tissue in his pocket, gently cleaning the mess off Noel’s neck. His touch was surprisingly soft now.
"Still, you should check out whatever Constance left, maybe she actually got you something you'd love." Misha said, giving Noel a wink that looked slightly out of place on his face, Noel thinks Misha’s cute anyway.
"Sure," Noel said, finally sitting up and trying to smooth his very messy hair. He paused, looking at the door and then back at Misha. "It’s very fortunate you pulled your pants up when you did. If not, they would’ve... well, I’ll let you fill in the rest of that horrifying mental image."
"Hah! True." Misha let out a breathy laugh, leaning forward to press one last kiss to Noel’s forehead.
Misha laughed, wrapping an arm around Noel’s waist and pulling him close. "Merry Christmas, Noel."
"Don't push it," Noel smirked, though he didn't pull away. "You're still my Secret Santa. You owe me a real date next."
They sat there for a few minutes in silence, the sunlight and the heat settling over them from the class window. Misha kept his arm around Noel’s shoulders, grounding him, while Noel leaned his head against Misha’s chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down to a normal rate.
Eventually, the bell for the end of lunch rang.
"Have to go, the gift. Secret Santa. If I don't show up, Constance will probably form a crime scene search party with Ocean, Penny and Ricky." Noel muttered, standing up and offering Misha a hand to pull him off the floor.
Noel took his hand as he stood. "Go. Save yourself. I will be right behind you."
Noel squeezed his hand one last time before slipping out the door, leaving Misha alone in the silent classroom.
"Oh! Noel!" Penny’s voice squeaked. She was standing in the middle of the hallway, pointing a finger at him.
"There you were!" Constance shouted, appearing from behind a locker. She ran, thrusting a prettily wrapped gift into his hands. "I looked…everywhere….!"
Noel clutched the gift to his chest, feeling his—out of control—heart. "I was just—meditating! I swear on god!"
"I know everything," Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg interrupted.
She stepped out from behind Constance, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. She let her gaze travel from the messy collar of Noel’s shirt up to the faint flush on his neck.
Noel stopped in his tracks. Dead.
"Ocean, Don’t—"
"This is your first strike, Noel, just remember that I am the President of the Student Council, the leader of this choir, and I have a moral obligation to report any unsanctified use of school property. Honestly, the lack of hygiene makes me better than—"
"Ocean, maybe we shouldn't be too harsh," Penny interrupted softly, stepping forward and placing a hand on Ocean’s arm.
Ocean stiffened.
Penny's eyes wide. "I mean, everyone makes mistakes, right? And we have ours too, Ocean. Like how the Black-footed Ferret was once thought to be extinct, but a secret colony survived because they found a safe place to hide away together... even if it was a bit unconventional."
Ocean coughed into her hand, her face suddenly blooming with a flush that had nothing to do with her strictness or her self-righteousness. She looked away from Penny, staring intently at a nearby fire extinguisher.
"Well, biologically speaking... The ferret's survival was a matter of... necessity. I suppose." Ocean muttered.
Noel stood there, blinking. He looked at Penny, then back at Ocean, who was now avoiding everyone's gaze. They’re in the same boat, or more, well, probably, according to Noel’s theory.
“…Right, sure, gotta run.”
He bolted down the hallway toward his 6th-period class, his heart still thumping. As soon as he reached his desk, he ducked behind his textbook and tore into the gift Constance had thrust at him.
Inside was a freshly baked muffin—which was baffling, considering it had been sitting in an insulated box for atleast eight hours and was somehow still warm. But beneath the muffin sat a small red pouch.
Noel pulled it out. It was a necklace. Pearls. Real delicate pearls.
He let out a laugh, leaning back in his plastic chair. From the messy necklace Misha had given him on the floor to the literal one in his hands, it seemed the universe—and Constance—really wanted him to have a pearl necklace, in a way or another.
He pulled out his phone under the desk, his thumbs ran across the screen.
The Choir Room
@Constance thank you!! love itttt. The muffin is suspiciously warm and the pearls are exactly what I needed.
Constance
OF COURSE!! I knew you needed something good to wear while you’re studying in dark classrooms 🩷
Ricky
my eyes still hurt😭 gotta rub my eyes on zolarian poplar branches dipped in the water of lethe now
Ocean
Ricky, sweetie, where were you?
Penny
I think it’ll look great on you, Noel!
(Did you know ferrets actually love shiny objects?)
good to know.
Misha
i do think the same too. dm me.
Direct Message: Misha
date?
okay, when and where? if you dont know, i'm familiar with some cafes.
tommorrow, near of mega mall? theres a mad wicked awesome skateboarding park. free of charge, i am have 2 skateboards. after that, cafe.
great, see you there, love. <3