Krampusnacht arrived much faster than anyone felt prepared for, and roster members scrambled to come together for several long nights before the event to create a cache of holiday-themed props. There was a wide range to select from: candy cane striped kendo sticks, gift wrapped boxes filled with thumbtacks, baking sheets with fake gingerbread men glued onto them, and so much more. Louis in particular proved himself to be the MVP among the crafters; with his power tools and spray paint, he was able to whip up several enormous wooden cutouts for backdrop decorations without breaking a sweat.

Mitch made an effort to swing by, partially out of obligation and camaraderie, and partially due to Nate’s persistence that they meet up. Somehow -probably through Gianna- he found out about what happened on Thanksgiving. And ever since, he’d been blowing up Mitch’s phone, all attentive and worried. It was sweet and Mitch was touched by the concern, so he did nothing to dissuade the doting.

There was almost no chance of anything actually happening because Nate’s docility, but Mitch welcomed the attention and gifts of food and wholly unnecessary rides to and from the school. They played this game earlier in the year, after Calvin and Toby fucked and Mitch splintered apart. Flirting with Nate meant contending with the world’s biggest safety net, but it shaved off the razor sharp edges of loneliness along with the impulse to make rash decisions for the sake of feeling anything at all. He really didn’t need much else anyway, because wanting more only ever got him into trouble, and he was too old to keep getting slapped with misdemeanors all because his dick made unreasonable demands.

When he wasn’t getting lavished with the wholesome affection, Mitch nitpicked about his return to the ring. His opponent was Danilo, going by the name ‘Mercy’; he was Maya’s sibling and a neophyte to Coven, so fighting Zevon would be his right of passage. And while he needed to make an impression, Mitch simultaneously needed to make a statement, just in case anyone thought he missed a step. Losing his first match back wasn’t an option.

On the growing laundry list for his comeback, Mitch added new pieces to his entrance gear; random things he found at a thrift shop that were probably in stock at some tween fashion store years ago, such as a bedazzled shirt and a pair of heart shaped glasses. During a test run, he found that his tights were more snug than he remembered them originally being. While he and Jodie got ready for bed on the night before Krampusnacht, he asked if she noticed any difference in his mass. She barked out a laugh. “Dude, yeah. You work out for like 4 hours a day, you got a regular pair of skullcrushers now.”

That seemed like an exaggeration, but she didn’t come across as insincere, either. “Do you stare at my legs? That’s weird.” His face scrunched up, and in response, she ripped the duvet off and jabbed his thigh with her index finger.

“How am I not supposed to notice these, dipshit? You sleep in your underwear. For what it’s worth, they’re not freakishly huge, just muscular enough that they could press oranges into juice-” While she continued to explain, he covered his ears.

“Hey, I don’t go off about how great your tits look in sleepwear,” he spat, then covered his legs up again.

“Well maybe you should! I paid good money for them.” Crossing her arms across her chest, she glared at him.

“The camisole or the tits?”

“Both, actually.” For some reason, her smug attitude burrowed right under his skin.

“Isn’t that Basil’s job?” Rightfully so, that earned him a pillow thrown at his face.

“We already hashed this out, and you said you were fine with it!” She screeched, then settled down with a scowl. “Besides, it doesn’t mean anything. Never has.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Mitch rolled over with a yawn. Sure, it was a mean comment, but considering the many times that Jodie harped on him about past grievances that were allegedly over, he was owed this. There weren’t too many opportunities to get one on her.

Overall, he was fine with it, he hadn’t lied about that part. Far be it for him to judge how two consenting adults spent their time together, but it felt a little weird that it’d been going on as far back as when he and Basil were roommates and he never picked up on it. This explained why it was never an issue when Jodie needed to crash for anywhere from weeks to months on end when she was between places or jobs or partners.

Ultimately, he concluded that he was bad at telling when people were into one another; or worse, when they fucked all over his furniture.