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Orym isn't sure who put the mistletoe up. It's hanging in the doorway of the high traffic area between the kitchen and the living room. And even though the lease says that only he and Opal live in this apartment, it seems like he's tripping over every one of their friends most days or nights of the week. He's not even really sure how. As far as he's aware, only two keys exist. He's not mad about it, just mystified.
His coffee finishes brewing and he blows on it gently, staring up at the mistletoe with a suspicious eye. Good money was on Opal. Better money was on Fearne. A wise man would bet on Dariax but someone who knows their friends would go for the long shot of Dorian.
Opal did put all the other decorations up while Orym was working.
But Fearne will take any excuse to leverage tradition and social conventions to kiss a friend and make them blush.
The thing with Dariax is: he loves chaos and a good smooch between friends.
Dorian, however, was the romantic and had been glued to the romcoms the second the temperature dropped below 70°.
He wasn't going to ruin their fun, just avoid getting caught.
Not that he didn't want a mistletoe kiss, he just –
His face flushes at the thought of kissing any of his friends.
Other people seem to be able to smooch and move on like nothing happened. He's not so sure he can do that.
Although, tis the season for miracles and magic.
Maybe a few kisses here and there would be good for him.
He glares into his coffee, willing it to work faster. He's beginning to not make any sense and the caffeine really needs to kick in soon.
Orym checks the time and realizes he needs to get a move on or he'll be late. He starts Opal’s coffee and shuffles out of the kitchen just as Opal is dragging her blanket-caped-self yawning into the kitchen. As they scoot past each other in the doorway, he makes the mistake of looking up and Opal follows his eyes, delight filling her face when she realizes where they stand.
"ORYM!" She yells, way too loud for the time of morning and he winces. "You’re the first one!"
He barely gets an "ohh really?" out before she squishes his face in her hands and leans down to smack a loud kiss to both of his cheeks.
"Happy Christmas, roomie!" She releases him and wanders into the kitchen.
Orym stands there, stunned for a moment before shaking himself out of the trance and calling out, "Your coffee should be done by now."
"Thanks, Nancy, you're the best!"
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Orym gets home from working a shift at the library, toeing his shoes off at the front door and dropping his backpack on the couch. The lights on the tree are blinking in a wild pattern so he calls out, “Opal? You home?”
There’s a clunk in the kitchen and what sounds like singing and he heads that way to investigate when suddenly the world is spinning as he’s being twirled in a circle. Dariax’s strong arms are around him as the room turns upside down and Orym is dipped over Dariax’s arm while Dariax sings cheerfully off-key, swooping Orym back up and dropping a gentle kiss to the tip of Orym’s nose and spinning him out and away into the kitchen.
Orym fumbles for the counter, trying to keep his balance and watches in shock as Dariax – still singing – grabs his plate and continues on his way to the living room. He sits on the couch, turns on the TV and seeing a blushing Orym still staring at him, winks and points up at the mistletoe Orym had honestly forgotten about in the rush to get to class and work.
“How did you get in?” Orym whispers, mystified.
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Orym turns around to a face full of Dariax’s hair and sighs, turns to try and move the other direction and gets a great view of Dorian’s backside – while not an unwelcome view – he really needs to actually move through the kitchen. He turns around, takes a deep breath, and steps back up on the step he’d been standing on to cook and moves the food he’s trying desperately not to burn off the stove. One crisis averted, he turns back to the fire hazard that is his kitchen.
This is a two-butt kitchen, max.
There are significantly more butts than that in here.
Hands go to his hips as he pitches his voice above the general din of chatter. “If you are not actively cooking dinner, get your behinds out of my kitchen or I am not responsible for any burns to your food or your person that may occur!”
Everyone freezes and turns to look at him before a chorus of apologies echoes throughout the kitchen and people begin filing out, trading giggling smooches as they exit in pairs into the living room.
Finally his kitchen is empty and somewhat quiet and he can reach the sink with no obstructions. He sighs happily and finishes cooking dinner, unimpeded. He hops off his step stool and steps out into the living room.
“Who all wants their buns toasted?” he asks.
“Me!”
“I’ll toast your buns, hehe.”
“Only if it isn’t any trouble, Orym.”
Rolling his eyes at their shenanigans, he turns to go back inside the kitchen, dodging Fearne who’d somehow managed to slip past him into the kitchen and come out with another glass of wine.
“Oh Orym…” she sing-songs, setting aside her glass of wine and smiling impishly at him. He looks up at her, confused for a moment before remembering the mistletoe and just shakes his head smiling and holds out his hands to her. She tugs him close and lets go of his hands to hold his face gently in her large hands, and Orym is almost sure he’ll drown in her big eyes looking at him very seriously all of a sudden.
“Hey best friend. Sorry we stressed you out in the kitchen. Thank you for taking care of us like you always do. You know we all love you very much, right?”
Orym holds her wrists and leans into her touch. “Of course I do.”
Her smile is wondrous and she leans forward slowly and presses a tender kiss to his forehead, a benediction, a blessing and a binding of souls all in one. Orym smiles when she pulls away and boops his nose.
She reaches back for her wine glass and winks at Orym. “I’d like for you to toast my buns as well.”
Orym rolls his eyes and walks back into the kitchen.
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Orym had noticed since the mistletoe had gone up, Dorian had spent more time than usual at their apartment.
Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part.
Maybe it was the fact that of all the people he’d like to have sweep him off his feet and kiss him senseless, the only person who hasn’t caught him under the mistletoe is Dorian.
So what if he’s a little grumpy about it.
He unlocks the door to the apartment and once again discovers the tree alight, this time with a soft white glow. He frowns slightly.
“Opal? Dariax?”
He drops his usual stuff in the entryway and wanders into the living room more. “Fearne? Dorian?”
“Oh, uh. Yeah. In here.” Dorian’s voice comes from the kitchen.
“Oh Dorian, I didn’t know you were coming over – ” He stops suddenly when he sees Dorian.
Dorian is standing in the doorway under the mistletoe, dressed in what Opal has affectionately called his “pretty boi” outfit, holding a bouquet of flowers and a very nervous expression on his face.
“Hi Orym, I was, uh. Opal let me in. She thinks I need a quiet study space. I had a speech. One second. I forgot it. Uh – ”
Orym steps forward a bit. “Dorian, it’s alright, take your time. Are the flowers for…me?
Dorian thrusts them forward. “Oh yes. The flowers are for you.”
Orym looks up at where the mistletoe is, Dorian’s eyes following up with him, looking down in surprise and a bit of relief when Orym deliberately steps up to join him underneath, gently taking the flowers from him. “Thank you.”
Dorian’s eyes search Orym’s face. “I came here because I have a question for you.”
Orym smells the flowers delicately, looking up at him through long lashes. “Yeah?”
Dorian swallows hard. “I would really like to take you on a date. A real one. An actual date. Dinner and everything.”
Orym smiles. “When were you thinking?”
Dorian deflates as though he was holding his breath. “What? I mean. I wasn’t thinking. I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far. Um. Is tomorrow night too soon?”
Orym lets his hand brush against Dorian’s as he passes by him to get into the kitchen. “How about tonight?”
Dorian melts against the doorframe in relief even as he reaches out and snags Orym’s hand, pulling him back in close. “Sounds perfect. But first, I think I owe you something."
He looks up at the mistletoe and down at Orym’s lips, fingers coming to tilt Orym’s chin up, leaning down a bit. “May I?”
Orym smiles easily. “You may.”
Dorian’s hand slides around to hook behind Orym’s neck, pulling him in slowly as he leans down, breath hitching slightly with the first tentative brush of their lips before Orym hooks his fingers in Dorian’s belt loops, pulling himself closer and what was tentative becomes a gentle caress that sends a buzz throughout Orym’s entire body and as he pulls away, he can feel a blush running up his neck.
Dorian’s eyes flutter open. “Well.”
Orym tilts his head back laughing. “Well?”
Dorian slides down the wall, burying his face in Orym’s shoulder, laughing. “Sorry, that was – I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”
Orym reaches out to tuck his hair behind his ear. “How’d I measure up?”
Dorian brushes a thumb over his cheekbone. “Better than any dream.”
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They hadn’t told their friends yet. Right now they had stolen moments across the crowded living room, eye contact that lingers a little too heated, a brush of hands in the kitchen while cooking dinner, sitting too close together while watching movies. It was fun, having a little secret.
“Okay this is ready to go out.” Orym hands Dorian the popcorn bowl. Their hands brush and Orym can feel his face heat and he should feel ridiculous but he just can’t bring himself to. Dorian begins to walk out to the living room where everyone is watching a movie. Orym and Dorian had volunteered to refill the snack bowls. Conveniently no one had been suspicious of the fact that two people volunteered for a one person job in a kitchen that Orym has complained about having too many people in it before. Dorian drops the bowl off and returns to the kitchen just as Orym was looking out to see whose cider needed a refill. As Dorian tries to scoot past him under the mistletoe, Orym glances around, sees that everyone is occupied with the movie and backs Dorian against the door frame, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss, tangling his hands in Dorian’s hair. Dorian, for his part, returns the kiss with equal fervor once he gets over the shock, hands gripping Orym’s hips, sliding up under Orym’s sweater as they kiss with a passion that surprises both of them.
“I knew it!”
They break apart, panting as Opal stares triumphantly at them, arms crossed. “You two are togethering. In some way.”
They look at each other, Orym tugging his sweater back into place and Dorian trying to smooth his hair back down. “What are you talking about?”
Opal gestures wildly around. “You were just lip locked against the door jam! Nancy is coming home at all hours of the night. And he’s been wearing his nice clothes! Oh and there were flowers!”
Fearne wanders over. “Oh dear, were we not supposed to know? I can pretend I didn’t know, if that would be better?”
Opal turns to her. “You knew?”
Fearne sniffs primly. “Well of course, you don’t think Orym starts kissing someone and I don’t know about it?”
Opal gasps and clutches her chest, turning back to Orym. “You told Fearne but not your own mother, Nancy! I am appalled!”
Fearne’s laugh is like bells. “Oh he didn’t tell me. I just know.”
Dariax ambles over. “Why’d we stop the movie? Whatsit we know?”
Opal points. “They’re togethering! Or at least kissing!”
Dariax blinks. “Oh.”
Opal shrieks. “Why am I the only one reacting like a normal person here!”
Dariax tosses popcorn in his mouth. “I thought they were already, what was it you called it? Togethering?”
“No!”
The three of them bicker their way back into the living room.
Orym and Dorian are still frozen in the doorway, looking at each other wide-eyed.
“Do we follow them?” Dorian whispers.
“Absolutely not,” Orym whispers back, tugging him further into the kitchen and pushing him down to sit on one of Orym’s steps.
Crawling into his lap to straddle the now-sitting Dorian, Orym wraps his arms around Dorian’s neck. “Boring movie anyways, I’m way more interested in what’s happening right here.”
Dorian grins and meets his lips in a slow kiss.