You kiss so sweetly / Under the mistletoe we are now

[velveteenwolf]

When; Mistletoe curse
Rating; PG-13?
Characters; Peter and Roman
Summary; There's Mistletoe in the living room, and a festive spirit in the air...
Log; Peter would never have openly admitted to liking Christmas. It was a bunch of different Pagan holidays that got superglued onto the Christian holiday for the birth of their zombie god. It was a bunch of bullshit, make no mistake. But, despite the ridiculousness if it all, the whole holiday season thing was annoyingly infectious. Christmas trees and ornaments and bright flashing lights and garishly adorned packages. Gingerbread and eggnog and candy canes and cider and rumcake and cookies frosted in the trademark red and green. He might be a gypsy, but he was far from immune to the pull of the season. He liked the glitz and the lights and how for a couple week, people tried their best to not be total assholes.

Of course, between discovering that the mysterious donations of money had stopped, and the height of the ceilings in their apartment, the tree they'd come home with the night before was decidedly on the malnourished and diminutive side. He was armed with far more lights and ornaments and tinsel than their waif of a tree could ever hope to withstand, but Peter wasn't about to let such details bother him. He wasn't sure their tree could hold any of it, but, they had their apartment.

He came in with a number of bags, and snow dusted on his coat, in his hair and his eyelashes and the scruff on his jaw. He wasn't particularly affected by the cold, but it was enough to flush his cheeks rosy. It was, of course, easy enough to ignore the mistletoe as just another piece of Christmas decoration.

"Roman?"

Comments

[saturniapavonia]

What person does not like Christmas? There is plenty of bullshit. That is universally part of the holiday season as much as holly and garland hanging just around the corner. One cannot have Christmas without baggage. Whatever it may be. Dubious religious implications to annoying obligations to traditions that hardly hold any meaning at all...it is worth it for the taste of peppermint, the smell of pine and the satisfaction that a gaudy decoration collection can bring.

The tree is perfect. It just needs a little...something. Love is what the football headed Charlie Brown called it. Roman called it work.

"What?"

He's trying to finish coiling the lights. There's too much for the tree so it has to go somewhere. Spooky green eyes (hardly festive) move up from the lights and they stay at Peter's face. For a second he thinks there's a trick because the expression is quite humorous. That cannot be blush from this perverted bastard. Maybe he's drinking.

A huff of frustration before he asks again "What?"