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Lance didn’t want to be there. Hunk had dragged him to a Christmas party that some of their work friends were throwing. It was at their office building and everyone he worked with, even that Keith guy in marketing that he hated was there.
“I have to see all these people on a daily basis, why do I have to go?” he’d asked Hunk when his friend picked him up at his apartment.
“It’ll be good for you. A bunch of other people from other departments are going. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone there,” the man said with a lilt.
“Ugh, dating someone from work? No thanks. They’re all boring.”
“Lance, we work at a fashion company.”
“And? That doesn’t mean they’re not boring. Everyone’s either uptight and snooty or too antisocial to be in a relationship,” Lance ranted. “Our friends are the only cool ones — but I wouldn’t date any of them.”
“Okay well, we’re going. If you don’t have fun, you can blame it on me later.”
“I plan on it.”
Lance loved his job, he really did, but he was only in it for what the job itself entailed, not the people. As an ex-model himself, he loved creating new designs and seeing other models wear them. It was just the people he had to go through for his designs to come to life that he hated. His few friends from the design department (Hunk, Matt, Pidge, and Allura) were his only saving graces out of the couple hundred people working there. Not to mention the fact that he really only knew less than half of those people anyway.
And that’s how he found himself drinking glass after glass of eggnog over by the refreshments table, away from all the people he either hated or didn’t know.
Matt and Katie Holt (who went by Pidge), sibling prodigies whose designs all featured two models, were up on the catwalk stage, about to announce the winner of the ugly Christmas sweater contest. Why a fashion company had an ugly Christmas sweater contest, Lance didn’t know. He only cared about one thing, and that was going back home, away from all the snooty rich people he called his coworkers.
Alright, so maybe the eggnog wasn’t helping his mood, but it was more fun than any of the ‘events’ that Hunk had been trying to get him to participate in. Pin the brooch on the model, gingerbread fashion show, Dirty Santa (where the most popularly stolen gift was a Prada bag, because of course someone brought that). You name it, the Holt siblings tried to do it. Including an ugly sweater contest. Lance of course wouldn’t be caught dead in an ugly Christmas sweater, so instead he watched the winner, some random guy he’d never seen before with a weird haircut and a scar across his nose, walk down the catwalk to receive his prize: tickets to some broadway show Lance couldn’t care less about. As the man went back to his spot in the crowd, the music started up again.
Lance went back to drinking eggnog, refilling what was probably his eighth or ninth glass. He looked around, noticing the gaudy decorations littering the large auditorium. Streamers and tinsel outlined the runway and every wall. Even the ceiling was decked out with ornaments and mistletoe hanging from it. Lance looked directly above him and saw that an ostentatious mistletoe plant was hanging very obviously over the eggnog bowl. He rolled his eyes, but smirked as he searched for his best friend in the crowd.
Hunk stood only a few meters away, talking to a group of coworkers, and, as if he felt Lance’s eyes on him, turned away from the group to meet his gaze. Lance pointed a finger and looked up at the mistletoe, then back down to Hunk. With a big wink and and overdramatic gesture, he blew his best friend a kiss. The man shook his head lovingly at Lance’s shenanigans, but made a kissy face in return before going back to his previous conversation. Lance smiled, happy that he could always count on Hunk to humor him.
Lance brought his glass up to his mouth to take another drink before his eyes caught the person’s in front of Hunk. It was the man that had won the ugly sweater contest. He was blushing and staring at Lance with a quizzical look.
Had... Had he thought Lance...? No. There was no way that guy mistook Lance blowing a kiss to him instead of the person behind him. Though, from a bit aways...
Lance quickly diverted his eye contact, hoping the man would get the hint that he definitely didn’t mean him. He chugged the rest of his eggnog, praying that would give him enough freedom from the awkwardness of accidentally-but-not-exactly blowing a kiss to a complete stranger. The cup blocked his face from the man, but it also blocked Lance’s view of everything else, so as he finished his drink and brought down his hand, he jumped when he saw said man standing only two feet away.
“You know, when I put on this sweater, I wasn’t expecting to catch the male gaze, yet here we are.”
“...Haha!” Lance tittered in response. This guy was definitely not someone Lance should be talking to after drinking so much eggnog. He was tall, smooth, and very attractive. If at first Lance had thought the hair was a bit funny looking, up close it was definitely working for him.
“Ha, well thanks,” the man said, and Lance nearly choked when he realized he’d said that aloud. “I’m Shiro- ah, Takashi Shirogane, but most people just call me Shiro.”
“Takashi Shirogane,” Lance repeated, trying to cover his embarrassment. “I can’t place where I know your name from.”
“Oh! Yeah, I’m new here. I’ve only been working a few weeks. I’m down on the first floor, so that’s probably why you’ve never seen me.”
“Uh, yeah, probably.” Wow, this guy was too attractive for his own good. And it was distracting. “It’s nice to meet you, Shiro. I’m-“
“Oh, I know who you are. You’re Lance! As in, The Lance. Ex-model-turned-designer and head of the department. And, if I might add, my biggest fashion inspiration... I know it probably doesn’t look it, considering I just won an award for wearing ugly clothes but...”
“You wear it well,” Lance smiled at the terribly sewn together design of the sweater. A prize well deserved. “And yes,” he continued. “I am that Lance. Though I don’t know about that last part. I’m not a such big deal.”
“Uh, you should know. Honestly, I’ve been following your work for a while. you’re what really made me jumpstart my modeling career.”
Modeling... First floor... Oh! Lance’s brain finally started working again.
“Wait, you’re a model? Here? How come I’ve never seen you?”
“Like I said, I’ve only been here a few weeks-“
“Yeah, but I’m always coming down to check on the models. Call me obsessive, but I want to make sure everything looks correct before presenting to the public,” he added. “Basically, I should have seen you already.”
“Well, I’m not exactly a model yet. The people down there told me they have a special project in mind for me,” Shiro said, raising an arm that Lance only just realized was prosthetic. “They said I need to get a feel of the place before I set foot on the runway. So for now, I just get them coffee until my special project is ready.”
“...What?” ‘Special project?’ That didn’t sound right to Lance. “No. Shiro, I think they’re messing with you. I mean, maybe they do have a special project in mind, but I would know about it first.” He wasn’t sure why, but the fact that the dressers downstairs were wasting this wonderful guy’s talent pissed him off. “I’ll go down there on Monday and personally fit you into something. You’re too good of a model to be wasted on coffee runs. You shouldn’t be fetching anyone coffee, they should be fetching it for you.”
“You think I’m a good model?”
“Uh, w- I mean- I can just tell from how... aesthetically pleasing you are.”
“Right. And we’re the words ‘aesthetically pleasing’ the only words in your head when you blew me a kiss? Or...?” Shiro smirked.
“About that...” Lance had nearly forgotten the whole reason he was even talking to this guy. “I have to be honest. I didn’t actually blow that kiss at you. My friend Hunk was standing behind you and I was aiming for him. Sorry about the confusion.”
“Ah, now I’m embarrassed,” Shiro said, blushing as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Only now? Not when you were putting on your outfit?” Lance joked to lighten the air.
“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll have you know I won two amazing tickets to see Dear Evan Hansen on Broadway with this sweater,” Shiro said smugly.
“Ooh, maybe you can win a date with it, too,” Lance shot back.
“Trust me, I’m trying.”
“Oh? And just how successful have you been?”
“Well,” Shiro said, “that depends on if you wanna go with me or not.”
Never in his life had Lance felt so speechless. This guy was almost too smooth for his, and Lance’s, own good. After a moment, Lance found his words and he blinked at Shiro as a smile crept onto his features.
“Uh, y-yeah, sure,” he nodded his head. “When?”
“The tickets are for next weekend if that works for you?”
“Sounds great.”
“Wow,” Shiro said with a smile.
“...What?”
“Guess this is my new lucky sweater. Maybe I should wear it on our date, see how lucky I get,” he winked.
“Yeah, you wear that on our date and just see how lucky you are if I don’t leave early,” Lance challenged lightly.
“Haha, alright, alright. Well then, I’ll make sure to wear something nice, as long as you make sure to wear that beautiful smile of yours.”
For a second time, Lance was stunned into silence.
“Are you serious, dude?” he finally asked.
“Serious about what?”
Shiro’s face snapped from flirty to worried in a second, probably thinking that Lance was mad at him or something. That was far from the case.
“Like, are you actually real?” Lance clarified. “You’re literally perfect.”
Boy, that eggnog had really gotten to him.
“I appreciate the compliment, but I’m far from perfect,” Shiro said, his cool persona suddenly hidden behind his blushing face.
“I guess I’ll find out if you are or not on our date,” Lance said.
“I look forward to it,” Shiro smiled. “But until then...”
The man held out his hand for Lance to take. Lance gave him a raised eyebrow, the thought that a handshake seemed too formal crossed his mind, but he raised his arm nonetheless and placed his hand in Shiro’s. Lance expected a firm grasp and a shake, but what he got was a loose hold that turned his wrist as Shiro bent down to press a short kiss to the back of his hand.
“Merry Christmas,” he said with a glance above them.
At that moment it dawned on Lance that the two of them had been standing under the mistletoe on the ceiling the whole time.
“M-Merry Christmas,” Lance stuttered.
“I guess I’ll see you Monday, then.”
“Yeah... See you Monday.”
Shiro giggled (yeah, the beefcake actually giggled) at Lance’s stunned expression and left him alone by the refreshment table with a nod and a wave.
It was official. This stranger Lance had just met by a random happenstance wooed him. Completely won him over. The flirting, the compliments, the date-to-be, and now a kiss on the hand. It all felt like some silly romance movie to Lance, but he was perfectly fine with that. Even if Shiro did wear that God-awful sweater on their date, Lance wouldn’t mind in the least.
He made a quick mental note to thank Hunk for dragging him to the party.
As infatuated as he already felt, Lance was glad that Shiro hadn’t tried to actually kiss him under the mistletoe. Shiro was charming, but Lance wanted to get to know him first. Besides, if they did end up getting together, there was always next year for kisses under the mistletoe.
And Lance was right. The next Christmas, after many dates and multiple other kisses, there were.