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“Cut it out,” You grumble.
“Cut what out?”
“You’re being too smug. My family’s not gonna buy that I’m dating a smug asshole. Hell, they’re probably barely buying that I’m dating anyone.”
“I’m not being smug,” Harvey insists, curling his arm around your middle. You try not to overthink the way your body warms with the press of his palm, and the sweep of his fingers against the fabric of your dress. “I’m just so happy to be here with my honey-bunny.”
“Oh, my god.“ You reach out, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. You draw in a deep gulp, tipping your head back and letting it slide down your throat, joining the two that you’ve already downed.
“Careful, sweetie. Your family’ll think we’re not happy.”
“One of us isn’t right now.”
“Really? I’m ecstatic.”
You cast an unamused sidelong glance at Harvey and find him smiling brightly at you.
“C’mon, admit it,” He adds, leaning into you, his breath brushing your temple. “I’m a better stand-in at your family reunion than Mike is. I’m better dressed, I’m more interesting, I’m more attractive—”
“I am so telling Mike that you have such a low opinion of him the next time you see him.”
“Now that’s not fair. It’s just, you know. Mike is like this,” Harvey raises his hand, waving around his shoulder, “And I’m like this,” He raises his hand, waving it around his brow. “Besides, I’m taller.”
“You’re the same height. The only thing edging you out is your Johnny-Bravo-like hair.”
Harvey’s jaw drops, a stunned laugh leaving his mouth.
“Johnny-Bravo-like?”
Your mom calls, “Get over here, you two!” Before your argument can continue. You wince at the sight of your family lining up for a picture.
“Oh—Mom, I don’t know—”
“This is not negotiable! Get over here!” She orders, “Both of you!”
“It’ll be fun,” Harvey insists, his hand resting on your lower back as he leads you over to the familial tangle.
“I don’t think I want you in our Christmas photos for time immemorial. I’m gonna have to explain who you were every few years.”
“Maybe you ought to just invite me back every year.”
“Doubtful.”
“Maybe your mother will—”
“Do not drag my mother into this—”
The two of you shut up as your mom waves the two of you into line with the rest of the family.
“You gonna quibble with me about standing one place or another? Making sure they get your good side?” You mumble.
“Please, sweetheart. Every side is my good side.”
You roll your eyes openly, winding up for another argument—and then Harvey curls his arm around you again. Your stomach swoops at the feeling, your face going warm. It’s absurd—you can’t stand Harvey, but he’s making you feel all…Gooey. You push a smile on your face for a few pictures, and are determined to hurry away and drown your gooey feelings in champagne—but as the others begin to disperse, your mother warns:
“Ah-ah-ah, don’t get far, you two. You know the tradition, honey.”
Your eyes go wide, stomach twisting with embarrassment.
“Oh—Mom, no,” You plead.
“We do it every year—Oh, Harvey, you’re gonna love this,” Your mom swears, gripping both of you by your hands and tugging you to a different spot in the room. “Whenever a new significant other is brought home for the holidays, they take a picture under the mistletoe.”
“Really.” Harvey’s smug amusement is back, spreading his smile wide.
“It’s an old tradition—It’s—Mom, we really don’t have to do this,” You stumble over your words.
“Oh, come on now! You’ve always been a little shy, never bringing anyone home before, so we can’t pass this opportunity up!”
She looks up, positioning the two of you under the mistletoe that’s been hung in the event space by the staff (probably at your mother’s request). You glance up at Harvey as your uncle waves you closer together, holding up his camera. Harvey leans in, giving your cheek an obliging peck as you give the camera a weak smile.
“Oh, please,” Your mom complains, “A real one!”
Your smile goes tight as you look up at Harvey.
“This wasn’t part of our agreement,” You whisper, “You don’t have to do this.”
Harvey’s gaze skates your expression before he gives a small shrug.
“It’s a couple of seconds to make your mom happy,” He murmurs, “I don’t mind. But I’ll push back if you need me to.”
You can’t help it—you go a little gooey again at the offer. You’d expected Harvey to brush it off, or to be a dick about it—but his expression is sincere, and his eyes are searching yours for any hint of hesitation. So you give a small nod, and try not to think about the way your heart leaps into your throat as Harvey draws you closer. You sway into him just a touch, chest brushing against his. The two of you lean in, and your lips meet in a stunningly warm, soft kiss. You try to fight it, but your eyes slip closed. Harvey raises a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb sweeping tenderly over your cheekbone as your heads tip slightly, deepening your kiss. You vaguely register the coos and clapping from your family just a few feet away, and that finally snaps you out of it.
You lean back, nose brushing Harvey’s slightly. You blink at him in slight surprise, tongue sweeping across your lips. As Harvey’s eyes open, he seems just as stunned as you are. His slick, smug look is gone. His eyes are searching yours again, then dip, and catch on your lips before steadying there. Your chest flutters as he seems set to go in again, but you hear your mother shooing, “Alright, you two can canoodle in the corner! We need to get your cousin and her girlfriend in here. Go on.”
You clear your throat, pressing your hand to Harvey’s chest and guiding him away from the mistletoe. The two of you come to a stop in a quiet corner. Harvey’s arm is still curled around your middle; your hand is still on his chest. You raise your hand a little, absently straightening his tie, just to do something with yourself that isn’t fumbling an apology, or drawing him back in.
“Thanks for the, um…” You trail off, waving toward your family. “I’m sorry, I didn’t remember that—stupid tradition.”
“Doesn’t seem that stupid to me,” Harvey offers.
“That stupid implies that you think it’s at least a little stupid.”
“It was unexpected.”
“I’ll give you that.”
“Wasn’t bad, though.”
“Sealed the deal. I mean—” You hurry to correct, eyes darting to Harvey’s face nervously. “In terms of being…Believable. I never pegged you as such a good sport.”
“No one’s ever managed to peg—”
“Oh my—I don’t need to know that,” You groan, turning and hiding your face in his shoulder. He chuckles, arm tightening around you.
“Still think I’m a smug asshole?” He murmurs against your temple.
“I know you are,” You grumble. “Just because you’re an alright kisser doesn’t mean you’re not.”
“An alright kisser? Oh, that just won’t do.“
"What do you mean that won't—”
You go quiet as Harvey cradles your jaw, drawing you in for another kiss. You let yourself lean into him, your hand slipping from his tie, up into his hair. He hums softly against your lips, nudging you back against the wall. Your breath leaves you in a soft huff as feel yourself pressed into the hard surface. You can’t imagine what your family is thinking, or if they’ve noticed that the two of you have, in fact, taken then chance to canoodle.
Harvey just smiles, smoothing his hand over your hip.
“Better than alright?” He murmurs. You pretend to consider before shrugging a little.
“Nearly.”
Harvey’s expression darkens, and he chuckles softly, shaking his head.
“You’re asking for it,” He warns. You smooth his hair down, a wicked thrill shooting down your spine.
“Why honey-bunny,” You coo, sweeping a fingertip along his plush lower lip, “I don’t know what you mean.”