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There was too much cinnamon in the eggnog and, ostensibly, not enough rum. Sitting there on a leather couch next to Linc while he flirted with Nancy in Human Resources was not how he had wanted to spend his evening and alcohol, more alcohol, would make it easier to bear. In retrospect, this had probably been a bad idea, bringing Linc here; but lately, he regretted almost everything about his relationship with his brother.
To say that things were strained would be an understatement. But he and Veronica had broken up again and Michael felt bad for leaving him alone on Christmas Eve.
"You do for family, Michael," His mother's voice would echo in his head. And he'd recall the folded paper cranes on his bedside and know he couldn't just turn away. Nancy giggled, flirtatious and drunken and leaned a little too close to Linc—overbalanced herself and toppled, catching herself practically in Linc's lap with her hand braced on Michael's thigh.
He polished off the remainder of the eggnog and noticed that Linc's glass was an even paler yellow—more rum than nog. The flush to his cheeks showed how drunk he really was. Even sitting this close, he couldn't hear the words he was saying, just the warm murmur of the bass of his voice as Nancy giggled again and flushed and made a sort of "oh dear me" gesture.
Pure affectation with a well-placed giggle and flailing hands. But Linc seemed in to it, with the way he was leaning in to her.
"Oh look," Nancy said, practically crowing with excitement, her voice slurring just a little. "Mistletoe!"
Michael and Linc looked up almost in unison, where one of the girls from the support staff was dangling the sprig of it above them, verdant green with little red berries.
Linc laughed.
"You've got it over the wrong people," Linc said, laughing about it. But he still turned and put his hand on Michael's shoulder. "C'mere, you."
Linc's hand was warm and solid at the back of his neck. Michael was going to just give him a light peck and explain to the girl that they were brothers.
Linc's mouth was over his before he could think though, tasting like cinnamon and mostly like rum. The first press of lips was brief and then Linc looked considering. It wasn't a look Michael was accustomed to seeing on his brother's face.
But then he was leaning back in again. Kissing him with more enthusiasm. It was a little too wet and then Lincoln's tongue was in his mouth.
Lincoln's tongue was in his mouth.
His hand was still at the back of his neck, thumb stroking along the short hairs there, and the kiss was suddenly intense and had some sort of meaning in it that Michael couldn't fathom. It was stunning—in the sense that it left him reeling.
Linc was practically cradling his neck, his other hand going to his hip. It felt like an eternity, but considering how no one was staring, he didn't think it was that long before Lincoln pulled back. There was a sort of furrow between his brows, but it cleared and he grinned, wicked and toothy, and then turned back to Nancy.
Michal was still confused though, chest tight, and it felt like he couldn't breathe. Before he could even process that, the girl had put the mistletoe above Lincoln and Nancy and he was kissing her.
Maybe with just as much enthusiasm. Michael wasn't sure of the unfamiliar sensation twisting through him right at this moment, so he frowned and went bag to his egg nog; more staring at it now than drinking it.
Nancy kicked him in the arm as she enthusiastically positioned herself in Lincoln's lap.
Now that he thought about it, Michael wasn't really enjoying himself anyways. He set the glass down and stood. He didn't know if he should interrupt Linc or not—decided against it—and headed for the door.
It was snowing outside, blowing and miserable and he wondered the odds of getting a cab on Christmas Eve. He supposed he could walk home; it wasn't that far.
He tucked his hands in to his pockets and turned towards his apartment. His mind travelled back to Linc, but he decided not to overthink it.