Masked Omega for Christmas

All I want for Christmas is a day off.

After winning an all-expenses-paid week in the mountains, the first thing I do is submit my leave request. I’ve been working in food service long enough to know that days off this time of year are nearly impossible to get. The week finally arrives, my bags are packed, my itinerary set, and I’m about to have the merriest Christmas ever.
That is until my boss calls and asks me why I’m late for my shift and that they never got my request. I have a half-hour to get there, dressed and ready to serve, or lose my position. As much as I want to tell them to take their job and shove it, I can’t. I need the job. It’s not ideal, but I’ll make it work.
My plan is to pass hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne until the party dies down, then race to the mountains. It’s a great plan until I get locked in the wine cellar with my college crush who keeps calling me mate.