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"So when you end up underneath that with someone, you have to kiss them?"
Frosch pointed at the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling of the wooden park gazebo, slowing down and continuing to stare at it with eyes full of wonder. Rogue, on the other hand, only stopped walking to lower their paw.
"Shh, don't point. That's rude."
Not that the couple underneath it would notice, as they were deeply invested in honoring the tradition, but he thought it was better to be safe than sorry.
"They say refusing a kiss under the mistletoe brings bad luck," he said, keeping his voice down because…Well, this was awkward enough already without the pair overhearing, wasn't it? "But you don't have to do anything you don't want to, of course."
"Would you say no if someone wanted to kiss you under a mistletoe?" Frosch finally tore their eyes away from the spectacle and caught up with him.
"I think so." Rogue picked a spot and started packing a snowball, handing it to Frosch so they could roll it around in the snow. "I guess it depends on who it would be."
"Lady Minerva?"
He laughed; of course Frosch would mention her. It made sense, since he'd been on a lot of jobs with her lately. So many, in fact, that some of their guildmates were convinced that there was something going on between them.
"I'd politely decline," he shivered, imagining himself in that position. "But I think she might kill me if I even tried to kiss her."
Frosch looked up from the snowball, which had already grown big enough to reach past the frog eyes of their costume. "Why? Doesn't Minerva like Rogue?"
Rogue shrugged and picked up another handful of snow. "Sure, as a friend. She has eyes for someone else, though."
He gave Frosch the newly made snowball and took over rolling the other one, waiting for the next question that would undoubtedly follow.
"Would Rogue kiss Yukino under the mistletoe?"
"No, I would not," he answered, trying his best not to laugh again. Minerva would definitely kill him if he tried, but that was a secret he'd promised would stay with him. "I like her a lot. Both of the girls, actually. Just not like that."
"Like what?"
Rogue sighed, not sure how he was supposed to explain this. "Well, there are a lot of ways to like someone. You can see them as family, or a friend, or maybe a neighbor who you think is kind but don't really hang out with much."
"And then there's liking someone in a way that makes you want to kiss them." He took a break from pushing the snowball around to adjust his beanie. "You'll think and talk about them a lot, and you'll be happy to spend time with them even if you're not doing anything special, because being around them brightens your day."
Was that right? So far, everything he'd just described could be applied to his relationship with Frosch, and he obviously wouldn't kiss them in a romantic way.
"They're special to you."
Hmm… getting there, but still not cutting it.
"Someone you always want by your side."
Rogue snorted, shaking his head. That made him think of Sting, who also checked the aforementioned boxes. But that was just because they'd been friends for so long, right?
Friends, partners… Both of these were true, and yet neither felt like they justified their connection. He could partner up with any of their guildmates, or even mages from other guilds. He'd have their back all the same, but none of them knew him like the back of their hand like Sting did. Out of all the friends he'd made since they'd turned Sabertooth upside down, none of them meant as much to him as the blond bastard.
"It's…"
He groaned as his mind went places he hadn't meant for it to go, suggesting the possibility that he'd been misinterpreting something all along. Revisiting random memories–battles fought side by side, days spent scrambling to get overdue paperwork done together, jokes he shouldn't have found funny, and silly, wide grins that could chase away his most foul moods–the missing piece of the puzzle came surprisingly easy.
"It's a feeling you don't get with anyone else." He tucked his face further into his scarf, hoping to hide the blush he could feel warming up his cheeks. "You might not recognize it at first, but it all comes back to what I said earlier, about not having to do anything you don't want. One day you'll find yourself thinking about kissing them, and when it feels right, everything will make sense somehow."
And it did. Things that had always felt a little off, confusing in a way he could never quite put his finger on…they all clicked into place. And Frosch appeared to be content with that answer as well, smiling at him cutely.
"What about Sting?"
Rogue tripped over his own feet, years of exercise the only thing helping him regain his balance at the last minute so he wouldn't crush their snowman-in-the-making. Paranoia got the best of him for a hot second–was he really being that obvious?
No, Sting's name would've come up sooner rather than later. It was to be expected, given that there weren't many people Rogue was really close with.
"What about him?" He asked in the most casual manner he could fake.
"Would you want to kiss him?"
"I–Uhm…He's…"
Whatever Rogue thought he was going to say, the words wouldn't come. He couldn't even lie to himself; he was already imagining it. How was he supposed to lie to that cute little face? Or worse, how would he be able to live with himself if Frosch caught him? That pleasant warmth on his cheeks had turned into a blazing heat, his entire face had to be beet red. Now he was being that obvious.
"Yes." He bit his bottom lip. "I'm not sure he feels the same way, though."
And Rogue wasn't planning on finding out soon, either. The timing sucked. Christmas was two days away, New Year's would follow, and they had so much planned to make the holidays a fun time for everyone at the guild. The last thing he wanted was to risk a dark cloud of awkward tension hanging over them.
This sounded like a January problem. He'd figure out how he wanted to deal with it once all the festivities were over, the hangovers had passed, and life was running its ordinary course again.
"I think this should be big enough, right?" He swiftly changed the subject, presenting his snowboulder that was horribly uneven because he hadn't really been paying attention as he was rolling it around. But that was fine. Frosch seemed to love it.
"Fro thinks so too!"
He lifted the smaller snowball and placed it atop the larger one, while Frosch gathered some twigs and rocks they could use to make the arms and face. Searching his bag, he found the old scarf he'd brought, and the carrot wrapped in a few pages of the latest Sorcerer.
"Don't tell Minerva I stole this from her kitchen," he said as he handed Frosch the carrot. "She won't let me in there since I tried to help out with dinner last Thanksgiving."
"Okay!" Frosch replied happily, putting the final touches on their snowman. The face was entirely crooked, and the arms reminded Rogue of Orga's dance moves, but again, Frosch was happy with it, and that was all that mattered.
He was just about to suggest they go home for hot cocoa, maybe give baking gingerbread men another go, when he heard footsteps in the snow and familiar voices approaching them. And sure enough, he soon caught sight of Lector, and Sting, who was carrying multiple shopping bags.
Rogue hadn't been ready for his stomach to somersault the way it did when he saw him, looking stupidly cute with his cheeks all rosy and his breath creating white clouds in the air.
A January problem he'd said, huh?
He told himself to calm down, to not make this weird because of one conversation that had innocently started with Frosch asking about mistletoes. He'd trained with Sting for years, shared a bed with him in some ratty inn a few times, washed off a day of hard work in the hot springs together. Discovering that his feelings for him went above and beyond platonic shouldn't have to change anything.
"Hey," he greeted, because that was normal. Suddenly feeling hyper aware of his hands and where they were or what they were doing? Not so much. "I see the shopping went well."
"Yeah, we just got the last few presents," Sting beamed–another stomach flip–holding up what had to be at least a dozen bags.
"Few?"
"You know him, he gets excited," Lector shrugged. "Five of those contain sweets, and there's another three filled with extra Christmas lights."
"Right, yeah, I'm not sure why I was surprised."
"Had to be done." Sting walked around the snow cryptid, chewing on…something, as if the mere mention of sweets had summoned food into his mouth. "There's no such thing as too many Christmas lights. Or sweets. And no, we won't talk about Halloween," he added right as Rogue was about to open his mouth and do just that.
"Did you and Frosch build this?"
"We did, and it looks great," Rogue said, with a voice and a glare that made it clear he wasn't having any criticism.
"Yeah, it does."
"It does?" Lector frowned, clearly having some doubts about that, but he corrected himself when Sting shot him a look. "Oh, it does!"
"Right? We should make one at the guild too! Oh, but first we have to wrap all the presents so we can put them under the tree at the guild tomorrow. Could you help me out with that?"
The puppy face Sting was making really wasn't necessary. It wasn't as if Rogue could bring himself to say no even if he wanted to, which he did but also didn't. The fear of doing or saying something incredibly stupid lurked right around the corner, but it was completely overshadowed by the excitement he felt thinking about spending time together.
"Sure. I doubt Frosch would mind. Right, Frosch?"
He looked at where Frosch had been just seconds ago and found nothing but tiny little footprints in the snow. Panic flashed hot through his body as his mind went back to the time Frosch had gotten lost. It only lasted a few seconds, thank God. Frosch just a few feet away.
Detaching. The fucking. Mistletoe. And flying it over to them.
"Oh, this is going to be good," Lector grinned, fully entertained, helping himself to some cookies and all. That little shit.
"No. Nononononono, Frosch, you have to put that back." Rogue waved his hands, shaking his head hard enough to get dizzy, or maybe that was just the panic making a devastating comeback. "Mistletoe is poisonous to cats! And–and that doesn't belong to us!"
"But you said you wanted to kiss Sting under the mistletoe?"
What he wanted was to bury himself under the snow.
Had he said that? Oh, he'd said that. Fuck. Why had he said that? He really, really shouldn't have said that, and denying it now meant he'd have to throw poor Frosch under the bus when all they did was try to be helpful.
Between Lector's amused surprise, Sting who had seemed to stop functioning entirely, and Frosch's barely contained pride, Rogue knew he was fucked. Without being taken to dinner first.
"Ah. I…did, didn't I?" he grimaced, regretting everything, including what he was about to do.
Yep. Something stupid.
He grabbed Sting's shoulders, rushing in fast enough that one wrong move could result in them spending the holidays at the infirmary together with concussions, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. Lector choked on a cookie–served him right–and Sting dropped all the bags he'd been holding. Frosch, though…Frosch was cheering, and somewhere in the distance was that goddamned couple Rogue personally held responsible for sparking their curiosity awwing at the scene. The nerve.
Rogue retreated, grabbing the mistletoe as an excuse to see himself out, if only for a little while so he could think of something to say that might salvage this disaster.
"Gonna put that back now. We don't want the park ranger to get mad at us. Again."
"Wait, what?" Sting seemed to have finally rebooted himself. "What the hell, Rogue?! You can't just kiss me like that and run away!"
Shame. Running away sounded absolutely stellar right about now. And speaking of stellar, they said Stella was gorgeous this time of the year.
"Alright, fine," Rogue sighed, throwing up his hands in surrender. "What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. You don't have to say anything." Sting took a step closer, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at the snow with his feet. "I was just, uhm…hoping that maybe we could do that again?"
Oh.
Lector and Frosch watched with bated breaths as Rogue convinced himself he'd heard that right.
"You liked it?"
"Oh, no, it sucked." Sting grinned a shit eating grin. "You were gone so fast I never got a chance to kiss you back."
"I'll be gone even faster if you're going to complain again," Rogue huffed in response as he closed the distance between them.
"Yes. Sorry. I'll shut up."
"Do."
He leaned in slowly this time, savoring the first brush of Sting's lips against his, how it felt when they parted, and the taste of chocolate and mint on his tongue. His hands were doing just fine now, needing no cue to wrap themselves around Sting's waist, where they fitted as if they were always meant to be there, just like Sting's when they curled around the base of his neck.
"Much better," Sting smiled, still close enough for every word to feel like another kiss.
"I don't know, I think we need more practice," Rogue smiled back, and then kissed him again. And again, and again, forgetting everything else.
"Frosch, I hope you're any good at gift wrapping because I doubt they are getting anything else done today."
"Fro thinks so too!"
They broke apart sputtering protests and apologies, picking up the shopping bags and the mistletoe Rogue had carelessly dropped into the snow. Rogue handed it back to Frosch, mouthing a thank you and giving them a hug before they flew over to the gazebo to put it back where it came from.
"So much for your plan, Sting," Lector said, a gleam of mischief shimmering in his eyes that Sting didn't seem to like one bit.
"What plan?" Rogue asked, eyeing the two curiously.
"Oh, he had it all figured out! He was going to kiss you at midnight on New Year's eve. I made him swear on Weisslogia because he already chickened out three times."
"Excuse me?! I chickened out twice. The third time was a well thought out decision."
"You were drunk. And I talked you out of it."
"Good call." Rogue nodded his approval, taking mental notes of this conversation for later. He claimed half of the shopping bags, freeing one of Sting's arms so he could link it with his own.
"Let's get moving. We still need to wrap a million gifts."
"And have hot cocoa with cookies!" Frosch chimed in.
Rogue hummed absently, not really thinking about presents or hot cocoa and cookies at the moment. He locked eyes with Sting, who he could tell wasn't either, and that wasn't just because he didn't so much as make a peep at the mention of sweets.
"Just so you know, I'm still sticking to that plan."
"You should. Don't chicken out this time."
"I won't, if you promise you're not going anywhere."
"Deal."