Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about ‘em for free etc
Category: Xmas fluff & more fluff
Warnings: Yaoi, lime
Notes: Be careful what you wish for… you may receive it!
Happy (early) Christmas, merith!
Feedback: If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!
Another one of my ‘Pocky Christmas’ arc…
“Is this the right place?” whispered the lean, long-haired young man. He untangled his ankles from the pool of sacking on the floor and tumbled out. His pants were low on his hips, but stretched easily with his movements. His vest was a vivid turquoise. He gave a low whistle, his eyes wide and bright in the dim light of the lounge. “Cool place,” he whispered. “Looks like people love living here.”
“Why are you whispering?” came the sharp retort behind him. Another young man shrugged off clumsy sacking, and stood up, brushing the threads of canvas off his dark blue denim shirt and jeans. He was as slender, but slightly shorter, and his hair was a carefully controlled dark brown mess. “We’re invited, right?”
He started to fold up the sack, carefully matching the corners, shaking out the creases. The sound behind him may have been the wind; it may have been a stifled snort. He whirled round, to find the other man watching him, eyebrow raised. “So what’s wrong with being tidy, Duo?” he snapped. “It’s someone else’s house, after all! Aren’t manners the same whatever time of year?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course! Heero, I’m just admiring your household skills!”
Heero wondered how long admiration had been so damned amusing. He chose to ignore the jibe. His legs were still cramped from the journey. “So where’s Santa? He was a full few minutes ahead of us.”
“He made a dash for the –“
“No,” grinned Duo. “The kitchen! Can’t you smell those chicken wings? His favourite, after all. There’s always extra here for him at Christmas.”
Heero looked round at the comfortable room, with only them in occupation. He frowned; this wasn’t the traditional way; this wasn’t according to the Night Before Christmas plan.
“He’s always talking about wanting a change of character -“ began Duo.
“Like the Invisible Man?” snapped Heero. “He doesn’t appear at all?”
“Less is more, I guess,” smiled Duo.
“Except, of course,” growled Heero, ”in the case of –“
“- chicken wings!” laughed Duo. “Didn’t get a belly like a barrel from cottage cheese! There’s a huge investment in that paunch! All those mince pies and sherry, every year –“
Heero lifted a pack of Pocky that had been left under the tree with a ‘for Santa’ smiley-faced label. He grimaced. “We’ll not be seeing a slimline Santa this side of the next millennium,” he complained. “I’ll be carrying the sack myself in a year or two!”
Out in the hallway, a corpulently-challenged man in a fleecy red suit stopped to hear their talk. He had a glass of milk in one hand, a plate of chicken wings in the other. He’d been wondering whether it was worth his time to go in and join his boys, when by the time he reached the living room, he’d need to go back and fill the plate up again –
Sounded like they didn’t need him for a while, anyway. Though he wished that tight-ass Yuy would loosen up a bit and make the other kid’s day!
“Slimline Santa indeed!” he grumbled. “Serve ‘em right if I just left ‘em here to get on with it themselves!”
He thought for a moment about that; he twirled a wing thoughtfully between plump, sticky fingers. A smirk crawled out from under his whiskery moustache. Then he turned around and went back to the kitchen.
His ideas always worked better with food in his belly. More food, that was.
Duo had been irresistibly drawn to the fireplace.
“Great fire,” said Duo, softly. “Most houses don’t bother now; no chimneys, no fireplaces. It’s just as I like it; warm, and the flames low but still crackling. Come lie down here and rest on the rug.”
“Now? There?” Heero looked startled.
“What’s wrong with that? We’re to make ourselves at home, aren’t we?”
Duo threw himself down; Heero let himself carefully on to the floor. Then they both laid out by the fireplace, side by side, flat on their stomachs. Duo was leaning on his crossed arms. They both stared into the fire; nothing to listen to but the occasional splitting noise of a log, and the flurrying sparks of a shifting cinder.
“This is great, eh?” Duo sighed.
“You already said that,” said Heero. His voice was rather tight. “It’s just a fire.”
“Hell, man, ease up will ya?” groaned Duo. “I didn’t mean just the fire. I meant this whole thing; lying here, relaxing. Christmas. Sometimes you are just one piece of hard work, Yuy, y’know?”
Heero shook his head slightly, like he tried to wipe away the scowl on his face. It wasn’t really appropriate for the season, after all. “What do you mean?” he said, hesitantly.
“Nothing,” said Duo, in that voice that always meant the opposite. “Just lie here for a bit ‘til we get our orders from the Portly Postman.”
Heero thought he’d change the subject. “What do you think they’ll be?”
“What – the customer’s orders?” Duo shrugged. “It ain’t gonna be another chess marathon, I can tell you, after you thrashed that kid last year.”
“Nor another gourmet meal preparation,” retorted Heero. “Blood in the sliced cabbage is no kind of optional extra!”
“Hid it with the tomato puree…” grumbled Duo. “You don’t think she’ll want us to go to any Christmas dances, do you?”
“Or sing carols!” said Heero, his face suddenly sharp with horror.
Duo looked across quickly and flushed. “I can carry a tune, y’know, whatever you say –“
“Carry it as far as you like, Maxwell,” said Heero, rather brutally, “but take it out of my hearing!”
There was silence while they glared at each other.
Then, surprisingly, Heero sighed. “Sorry, Duo. That was unfair.”
Duo grimaced. “Yeah – it was.”
“But true,” added Heero.
Duo smiled softly. He didn’t dignify that with a reply.
The fire crackled, warmly.
Duo leant further forward, and for a minute, Heero couldn’t see his face. “So - you got a problem with doing these gigs with me, Heero?”
Duo rubbed his hand over his head, ruffling his hair. It was a nervous gesture. Heero knew it well. “Dunno. Just – you’re not particularly cool about it, this year. You’re giving me these looks, and you’re pretty sharp with the comments all the time…”
There was silence for a while. Duo traced out the flickering images in the flames of every dried pasta shape he could remember. He was distracting himself, he knew.
“No,” said Heero, very softly. “No trouble at all. I like being with you.”
“OK,” smiled Duo. He felt strangely shy, and thought himself pretty ridiculous for it. “So we can just relax a bit, right? It’s comfy here – and warm…”
“Very cosy,” said Heero, rather abruptly. Duo turned to him in surprise. He saw that Heero’s hand had been teasing at the threads of the rug beside Duo’s hip. Well, that was where he snatched it back from, when Duo looked down at it.
“Too hot for you?” Duo asked. “You look kinda flushed.”
“I’m good,” said Heero, firmly. They stared at each other for a bit, like they weren’t sure what to say next. Then Duo yawned a little, and rolled back on to his stomach. The two of them lay there for a another while, gazing into the flames.
Scarlet…gold…like autumn leaves tumbling… thought Duo. He wondered, idly, what the reflections must look like in Heero’s dark eyes. Not quite idly enough. He shifted a little awkwardly on his front. Wished he’d worn the sweats, not his Christmas best pants. Not conducive to warm, sensual feelings, right? He thought he might try to get more comfortable; he wriggled, and his left foot slipped out to the side, and hitched itself across Heero’s right foot. He felt the man beside him start at the touch.
“Sorry,” he said. He’d rarely sounded quite so unconvincing. He winced inside, and waited for Heero to push his foot away.
“Don’t be,” came the soft reply.
“Don’t be what?” he said, stupidly.
“Sorry,” replied Heero. “It’s good.” He gave a slow, quiet chuckle. “Your toes are warm, too.”
There was a stifled snort from outside in the hall, but neither of them noticed. They seemed to be concentrating on each other’s toes.
Chuckle? thought the red-suited man, listening shamelessly from behind the door. Toes? He fumbled in his pocket, and brought out a clean glass. Thoughtfully, he placed it at the flat wooden panel of the door. Basic science, that was. The elves taught it to him, from years of listening in to kids’ Christmas requests.
He couldn’t afford to miss this little drama, could he?
“So if it’s not me, what is it that’s buggin’ you?” asked Duo. Heero was pretty comfortable with their legs intertwining; he might let his hand slide over his shoulder as well, in a minute. In a long minute, of course. “Is it The Man in Red? He can be pretty tetchy this time of year. Or Rudolph’s farting? Like - ughh, after a supper of mincemeat and beans! Are you worried about this place? You know she’s really cool about us –“
“Not that!” said Heero, quickly. “This place is just fine! I couldn’t feel better about being with you, than here –“
Duo was staring at him again, and he bit down on his tongue. Cursed his clumsiness! Duo had looked like he might put his arm round him, but now that was as likely as Santa and diet soda. He sighed to himself. He really was more used to the ‘strong, silent, spandex-ed Soldier’ persona. He wasn’t too good with the casual bonhomie of these Christmas visits – not like Duo was. Duo was sociable and witty; Duo made him nervous and awkward; Duo made him goosepimply. He’d have to talk to Santa about getting transferred back to those military calls…
“You’re kinda tense, Heero,” said Duo. His face was twisted into an expression of friendly concern. Pity he looked like he’d just swallowed some of Rudolph’s supper.
“It’s – Christmas, that’s all. I find it - perplexing.”
“Well – duh – it always happens this time of year, doesn’t it? ‘Tis the season to be jolly’, and all that –“
Heero flushed again, and stared fixedly into the fireplace. “Not always the easiest of times, Duo.”
“Good to be with your family –“ began Duo, puzzled.
“Tension,” replied Heero, sharply. “Arguments; resentments stored up all year.”
“Wasted cash; carelessness of what people really want.“
“Good food and drink –“ said Duo, a little faintly.
“Indigestion!” snapped Heero.
“Jeez…” said Duo. “I knew we’d somehow get back to Rudolph after all!”
He slid a look at Heero’s eyes; they glared back at him for a moment. Then Duo smiled; his mouth crept wider, into a full grin. “Laugh, Heero!” he ordered. “You know you want to, you old Scrooge!”
Heero protested. “I don’t! Haven’t you listened to a word I just said -?”
“Laugh!” persisted Duo. “Or I sing carols! Hark the Herald Reindeer Belch –“
Heero snorted with irritation.
“I Saw Rudolph Kissing Santa Claus – Jingle Smells - O Come all ye Fart-ful –“
And Heero laughed.
“So what is it you want for Christmas, Heero?”
Duo shifted as if to move a different side of his face to the fire; his hand flopped over Heero’s body and nestled on the small of his back. He held a breath; Heero didn’t castrate him without hesitation, as he might have expected.
Behind the door, the round, red-robed gentleman stuffed another wing in his mouth and pressed the empty glass closer to the wood. Hard.
“Nothing,” Heero said. He also had a tone of voice that meant the complete opposite – and Duo recognised it.
“Guess I’ll take back the red-and-white-furry thong then,” he snickered.
Heero looked at him with disgust. Or at least, he tried to. The hand on his back was very soothing; very pleasant. It distracted his disapproval. And anyway, he was still smiling a little from Duo’s lunacy. Duo always did that to him. “Just – help.”
“Help?” Of all things, Duo hadn’t expected that.
“With – the season. With looking forward to the new year. With some strange, unsettling, confused feelings –“
“Shit,” said Duo, quietly.
Heero took a deep, brave breath, and reached his own hand over to Duo’s back. But he slid his hand that little bit lower; he squeezed at the tight, rounded globe of Duo’s left buttock. He almost shut his eyes, waiting for the angry yell. It never came.
“- feelings about you, and the fun we have, and what else there might be in life apart from presents and food, and the way you look with those flames reflected in your eyes like liquid fire –“
“I’ll help you,” said Duo, quickly. He’d have expected to be abducted by aliens before he’d have expected Heero’s hand there. It was damned good, though! His voice, when it came out, was a little shaky. “With whatever you need. That’s what I want for Christmas.”
“Help with friendship?”
“With more – with as much as you want. With everything I have,” he said, simply. Jeez, he just wasn’t the world’s greatest at sap, was he -?
But Heero was smiling at him, completely unprovoked by his appallingly poor jokes, and there was this thing he did with his toes as they ran up Duo’s leg that made him want to lie back on the rug and make fur-fabric angels for the rest of the night –
Heero pushed him over, and suddenly the dark-haired man was on top of him. Completely. Duo could feel all the bumps in Heero’s body, squashed on to his own. His pants suddenly shrank in a non-existent wash.
“Making out? Here? Now?” asked Duo. Stupid, stupid! he groaned to himself. “Aren’t we here to make someone else’s Christmas? To meet her request -?”
“She won’t mind,” said Heero.
“You know that, do you?” challenged Duo. “She could walk in any minute –“
“I know that,” said Heero, even more firmly. “Kiss me.”
Behind the door, Santa nodded, and a self-satisfied grin creased across his ruddy face. He folded the page of instructions he held in his hand, and rammed it back into his voluminous pocket.
Santa continued to listen, still shamelessly. He reckoned it was a privilege of his position, right? He heard the creak of some furniture pushed carefully to one side; he heard the rustle of clothing. He heard a stifled laugh, and then some soft, wet noises like you get when two eager young people are kissing. With tongues ‘n all, he thought to himself.
They were making up for lost time.
Santa shifted the belt on his huge waist, and looked at the last sticky bone in his hand. Time to be moving on. There was chocolate at other places; lemon meringue pie; Christmas pudding ice cream; brandy butter; Pocky!
Heero’s voice floated out from the living room, slow and lazy, yet rippling with excitement. “What did you really get me for Christmas, Duo?”
“Told you,” came the answering mumble.
“No, really –“ growled Heero. There was the sound of elastic snapping back on to slim thighs, and the yelp of a frustrated Duo.
“Yes, really, you sadist! Pull those pants back down now -”
“You didn’t -?” came Heero’s voice, a lump of pure, horrified amazement. “The thong? The – “
“Thing Thong Merrily on High!” trilled Duo’s high, cracked singing voice. There were sounds of a scuffle – the elastic shrieked again.
Santa picked up his beautifully folded sack, snapped his fingers, and was gone. Almost. For one final moment, a disembodied, fur-trimmed glove appeared out of the smoke, grabbed at the final chicken wing, and then vanished again
The fire crackled contentedly.