Disclaimer: I own nothin'
Pairings/Warnings: 1x2, implied 3x4, first time kisses, swearing, Christmas cheesy-ness
Being forced to attend a festive themed costume party was not Heero's idea of fun. Though he was quite sure it was no one's idea of fun and those who seemed to be enjoying it were doing so due to alcohol consumption and a misguided desire to be in the "holiday spirit". Or that's what Heero thought grumpily as he sipped at a glass of champagne as a man walked passed him in a penguin onesie. He supposed it was a clever take on penguin suit.
Surely no one really enjoyed these things?
"Holiday clothing" had been mandatory on the invitation and Heero had glared at the embossed piece of card due to this obscene request. Heero was not a Christmas sweater kind of guy and this was a well-known fact among friends and co-workers. Every year, brave co-workers would venture into Heero's office with cards, holidays cheer and invites to parties and they would receive his trademark "Death Glare" in response until they left as hastily as they arrived. Close friends didn't even bother with such traditions, aware that Heero wouldn't be joining them even if they asked.
Yet this year this fact had been forgotten. As Heero received the gold glittering embossed invitation from not only a friend but a close friend who should've known better.
Of course, Trowa was now "in love" and that had meant that Heero's usual gym buddy and jogging companion had forgotten Heero's contempt about the festive season. Or had conveniently not told Quatre, his new fling, who felt that Heero needed to attend as there was someone Heero had to meet.
Heero was annoyed by this too – Trowa was very aware that he did not need setting up with someone. It seemed Quatre did not. It made Heero grumble about the effects of getting laid and how all the sex had seemed to muddle Trowa's brain and memory. Plus Trowa had used guilt to get Heero to attend – that he needed back up due to the location of said party being his new boyfriend's very fancy mansion.
So Heero stood, cradling his glass, by the most elaborate Christmas tree he had ever seen at the most ridiculous Christmas party he had ever attended. There were elves delivering drinks, ice sculptures and tables laden with food, cakes towering high. Heero had known that Trowa's new boyfriend was rich but he had apparently not understood how rich Quatre.
His eyes took in the intricate details on the Christmas tree, the ornaments all gold and delicate, and he tried to figure out how long he needed to stay before he could take his leave and return to the safety of his own apartment, his bed and his laptop. He was calculating the earliest possible time he could leave when he sensed another person approach his location and he downed the rest of his drink in anticipation of awkward small talk.
Yet the individual did not begin the exchange with small talk. Instead, he said something that would've been shocking if Heero was not dressed as he was.
"Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker."
Heero turned towards the voice and offered a smile due to the fact there was someone at this damn party that got the reference. Most people had wondered why the hell Heero's outfit was considered festive – he had explained a few times already and the rest of the time he had been the recipient of some stares. Yet this guy got it. And he was easy on the eye too, Heero noted.
"Perfect Christmas movie, right? Guns, violence, terrorists – nothing says Christmas more than a viewing of Die Hard."
"True," Heero replied and gestured around his surroundings, "though the costume is perhaps not appropriate for this particular party."
It was very obvious that Heero's John McClane look did not really match the Christmas suits, the ties, the dresses and the sweaters that everyone else seemed to be wearing. And, of course, Heero had had to be an authentic John McClane his white vest was blood stained and his shoes had been replaced by bloody bandages. It was perhaps no wonder that most people didn't get it. Heero was even slightly regretting it due to the coldness of his feet despite the plush carpeting underfoot.
"And it's not very warm."
"Hey, no complaints from me!" his companion said, a broad smile on his face. "Where's the fun in another sweater, huh? Look at me."
Heero did take the opportunity to look when he was given such an open invitation. Of course, he noted the Christmas sweater, impressed with the unique print of "Walkers in a Winter Wonderland" that depicted zombies instead of the usual festive motifs, but he also took in the lean body underneath, the tight skinny jeans, the long braided hair and the attractive grin. Despite his annoyance about the party and the fact that Trowa and Quatre were trying to set him up, Heero couldn't help noting that the man he was currently talking to was attractive. And got his Die Hard reference.
"I like it. Festive blood and gore is accurate with some family gatherings," Heero said with deadpan humour.
"Exactly!" his companion replied with a chuckle. "I'm glad I found a brother in arms in this holiday 'fun' wasteland."
Heero smiled in response and he found himself marvelling at his sudden good mood and the fact he was no longer hating the party. It really was a holiday miracle, he thought with his usual dry sarcasm.
"I'm Duo, by the way," his companion said as he offered his hand.
"Heero," he replied, shaking his hand and noting the calluses on his hand the firmness of his shake.
"How do you know Quatre? I've not seen you at any of these shindigs before."
Heero looked around the room and tried to see if he could see Trowa around to indicate his only friend at this party. He saw his friend, dressed in a ridiculous green shirt with a snow flake pattern, and gestured his head in his vicinity. "Trowa's my friend."
"Ahh," Duo said with a knowing wink, "so you are new to the world of a Winner party."
"I am and apparently that's very obvious."
Duo chuckled warmly, his eyes taking in the extent of Heero's bloody and ripped costume once again. "Then let me give you the highlights, Heero, my man, and the rules for navigating these things without anything too painful happening to you. I don't want another Rage Against the Machine karaoke incident of 2009."
"The Rage Against the Machine incident?" Heero asked.
"Let's just say young naïve Duo thought he could pick what he wanted for his karaoke song and leave it at that."
With a wink, Duo reached and threaded an arm around Heero's arm, linking them together and they began the "grand tour" as Duo referred to it as. It seemed that Trowa noticed Heero's sudden acquaintance from across the room and he sent a wry smile in Heero's direction before he was led out of the main party area and into the rest of the house.
Heero found out more about his friends new boyfriend than Trowa probably knew as Duo told stories about each room, about Quatre's scary (but now deceased father) and his many, many sisters. Duo was charming, funny and had a seemingly incredible ability to keep conversations going despite Heero's often brief or grunted responses. It was the least painful "festive party" that Heero had been forced to attend, and when they returned to the large Christmas tree, their tour complete, Heero grabbed another drink and a canape from a passing elf feeling more at ease that he'd ever done at such an event.
As he glanced at Duo, currently popping multiple canapés into his mouth, Heero contemplated what his next action should be. Should he ask for Duo's number? Or arrange a date? Heero almost wanted to punch himself in the face. He hated the awkward beginnings of the courtship dance and he usually tried to avoid it by skipping straight to the meaningless sex and brief text messages.
He knew he couldn't do that as he'd already had more conversation with Duo than most of his previous partners. So instead, he sipped his champagne and his gaze looked towards the tree so that he could avoid Duo's eyes. Heero took in the details and let his eyes drift to the top of the tree to the ornate star and then the garlands that decorated the top of the room, hanging from the corners of the room. Maybe… maybe there was mistletoe? Maybe he could be that damn clichéd?
Heero didn't get a chance to make his decision. As Duo waved at someone and laid his hand on Heero's shoulder gently, leaning close to his ear so that Heero could feel his breath on his neck.
"Sorry, gotta chat to some old buddies but real nice to meet you, 'Ro."
His stomach sank as he heard those words. It was clear he had been presumptuous and was suddenly very glad he had hesitated rather than doing some embarrassing and foolish.
Yet it didn't sink for long. Heero nodded, his closed eyes to hide his disappointment and in that moment he realised two things at once. A hand was putting something in the pockets of his cargo trousers, those fingers having skipped down Heero's back from his shoulder and the breath that had been at his ear was now situated near his lips. He opened his eyes and snapped them shut immediately as Duo brushed his lips against Heero's, a light brush at first, but then pressed firmly against Heero's.
For the brief moments of the kiss, Heero forgot about the Christmas party, about the annoyance of the festive clothing and the fact his friend had manipulated him to attend. All he thought about was how Duo's lips felt against his own, wet from champagne and how he smelt good and how he wanted to reach out and pull him close.
Heero didn't reach out as there wasn't enough time before Duo was backing off, before he was giving a sheepish smile in Heero's direction and was scratching at the back of his neck.
"Keep in touch," he said, "I put my business card in your pocket. And if you don't wanna… blame the mistletoe and the Christmas spirit, yeah?"
Nodding dumbly, Heero only reached for the card in his back pocket as Duo walked away. He looked at it, saw the name emblazoned in black ink, "Duo Maxwell" along with his business number and occupation in thin script "Bespoke Car Modifications". He watched as Duo went to join a group of men, welcoming them warmly with hugs and Heero reached once again into his pocket, bringing out his phone so he could save the contact.
'I want to keep in touch,' Heero texted.
From his vantage by the Christmas tree, he saw Duo reach into the back pocket of his skinny jeans and read the message, glancing in Heero's direction briefly with a wink. A few seconds later a message pinged onto his screen.
'how about in 20 minutes we blow this joint, motherfucker?'
With a snort, Heero messaged back one final time.