Work Text:
Nick sat bent over some paperwork, trying to concentrate on the file in hand. The office had gotten stuffy and cramped with all those space heaters. Now he sat on one of the stools at the Power Noodles. The cold made his hands stiff, but he enjoyed the background noise the streets provided.
Sole walked up and leaned on the bar next to him.
“What’cha working on? Another missing husband case?” she said.
“No, just figuring out who still owes me money,” he replied.
“Mmh-hmm, mmh-hmm,” she nodded.
He waited for her to make herself comfortable on the nearest chair, but she remained on her feet; from the corner of his eye, he could tell that her hips were resting at an exaggerated angle. He smiled to himself. She would have to try harder than that if she wanted to distract him. He hoped she would.
“So,” she broke the silence, “notice anything different?”
“Like what?”
“Put those peepers to use and find out.”
He looked up at her, then laughed. She had attached a curved bit of wire to her hat, and hanging from the free end was a sprig of mistletoe.
“You trying to tell me something?” he chuckled.
“I don’t think it would take a detective to figure out what I’m after.”
He smirked.
“Meet you back at the office?” he said.
“What? I go to all the trouble to find you out here, and now you want me to trudge all the way back there? I don’t think so, buster.” She sat down on the stool next to his. “I’m staying right here ‘til you kiss me.”
“Is that so? Well, two can play at that game. I’m perfectly comfortable out here. Let’s see how long you last when that wind picks up.”
He returned his attention to the papers, or at least made it look that way. Anticipation itched at his thoughts. She would give in any minute, he was sure.
Sole inspected her nails. After a short while, Travis appeared and took a seat.
“Hey guys, funny seeing you here,” he said. He had cultivated a smooth, debonair radio voice, but when he was off air, his voice had its old, lighter tone—minus the old fear.
“Hey Travis,” Sole said. “We’re just playing a game.”
“Oh. Does it have something to do with that plant… thing?”
“You mean my mistletoe hat? It sure does.”
“What game?”
“It’s an old pre-war thing. If you get caught under the mistletoe with someone, you have to give them a smooch.”
His eyes grew wide. His face turned bright red. He stared down at the bar.
“Cool, cool,” he said.
“Wanna play?”
Nick shot her a questioning look. She returned with a smug grin that said if you don’t like it, then stop me . But there weren’t many waiting games that he could not win; in addition, he doubted that she really wanted to kiss Travis.
“Uh,” Travis’ voice cracked like it used to; his eyes darted from Sole to Nick and back again.
“Go on, kid. Pucker up. She doesn’t often give ‘em out for free,” Nick said.
“I mean—if you really don’t mind—I’d hate to be rude.”
Sole caught Nick’s eye, then leaned in and gave Travis a quick kiss. A passing guard stopped in his tracks.
“All right, Travis!” he said.
“There’s more where that came from,” Sole said, “get over here.”
“Oh hell yeah.” He took off his helmet and kissed her.
A line began to form after that. Nick struggled to focus on his work. Then there came the sound of heavy footsteps; Vadim pushed his way to the front. He gave her an appraising look.
“Ah-ha, so it is true. I heard rumors, but could not believe.”
“Believe it, bucko,” Sole said. “You next?”
She shot Nick another look, raising her brows in invitation. He tried not to let on how much the situation was beginning to grate on his resolve; he hadn’t counted on her being so unashamed. He scowled down at his papers.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Sole throw her arms about Vadim's thick neck and pull herself up for a kiss. Nick fiddled with the corner of one of the papers. Vadim pulled her closer than any of the others had. Nick began drumming his fingers in spite of himself. Then Vadim doubled his efforts, and—to Nick’s horror—Sole let out a muffled gasp.
He got up from his seat. The papers scattered on the ground, but he didn’t care. He marched up to them and tapped on Vadim's shoulder.
“Mind if I cut in?” he said.
“By all means.”
Sole crossed her arms and stuck out her chin.
“What if I’m done doling out kisses for the day?” she said.
“You saved a little one for me, didn’t you?”
He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. He felt a dozen sets of eyes on them now; it occurred to him how strange it must have looked. After all, he rarely so much as shook hands with anyone in public.
“Well,” she huffed. “I go to all this trouble to make you jealous, and this is all I get—?”
He didn’t let her finish. With a tug, he spun her into his arms, dipped her backwards, and pressed his lips to hers with all the bravado he could muster. She clung to his jacket, fingers scrabbling to find a hold. For a moment, he forgot about the crowd, lost as he was to his triumph and the sensation of her waist, warm in his hand.
He nearly dropped her when the applause began. When the shock wore off, he laughed.
“You set this up, didn’t you?”
Sole shrugged.
“You got me, Mr. Valentine,” she grinned.
She gave him one last kiss on the cheek, then tossed the mistletoe away.