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“What the actual fuck?” Tommy blurts out unceremoniously. He narrows his eyes, actually taking a half a step backwards because he can feel the offensiveness of the article of clothing as if it were palpable.
Noh-Varr is a bizarre guy—expected from an uncultured alien, but still—and Tommy would like to think he has gotten used to everything he can throw at him. They had gone from eating trash which Tommy would rather never revisit, to constant explanation of slang and innuendos that somehow the speedster always ends up having to explain.
But he’s genuinely taken surprise by this one. With Noh standing there in the guest bedroom of the Kaplan’s, actually smiling a little, just a hint of a smile because he looks so proud of himself as he holds out the ugliest sweater in the world.
“It’s for you,” Noh explains, a certain affection in his tone. The sweater is dangling closer to Tommy, poorly stitched green yarn and god awful reindeer prints in red galloping across the chest. Falling down the sweater are snowflakes of all different sizes, down to white Christmas Trees near the hem.
With cats under the trees. Little red cats. What did cats even have to do with Christmas?
“Why.” It’s not even a question at this point, Tommy feels like the sweater may induce blindness if he continues to stare at it. Tommy isn’t a sweater kind of guy—at all. He doesn’t do warm and fuzzy in any way, shape, or form, and that sweater embodies everything he abhors. It might as well be the equivalent to the Skrull invading on his list of “Do Not Want.”
He shifts a little, back on the balls of his feet because Noh is doing that thing again. Where he stares at him with intense eyes and heavy expectancy. He still hasn’t really caught onto the mannerisms of a functioning, civil person who can go more than a few seconds without making someone, particularly Tommy, uncomfortable.
Noh frowns a little. “You don’t like it?”
“That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” Tommy tells him bluntly, cocking an eyebrow. He would have thought that even a Kree could recognize how hideous it looks, but considering the guy had the diet of a cockroach, he shouldn’t be giving too much merit to his diet.
“I’m confused,” Noh starts, his voice a little more disconcerted. Of course he is, Tommy thinks to himself. “Wiccan and Hulkling said that you would like it. They said it would further help me establish a positive relationship with you.”
Since when does ugly sweaters equal best friends?
Tommy runs a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. “You didn’t have to give me an ugly sweater, but it’s the thought that counts. Or something.” He resists the urge to roll his eyes, but reaches out and grabs the sweater out of his hands anyways. It’s bulky and the fabric brushes against his skin in a manner he knows will itch if he wears it. “And Christmas isn’t for another two weeks, okay?”
Noh seems pleased with Tommy accepting his gift, which he supposes is better than his usual pissy demeanor towards him. Actually, Tommy much prefers when the Kree does that little half smile thing because it actually makes him pretty attractiv—likable. Almost bearable, he means.
The speedster hugs the sweater to his chest casually, because now that he’s taken the damn thing he’s not going to let go of it. It’s his gift, anyways. “Do me a favor and never listen to Teddy and Billy again.”
Because they’re secretly evil and are probably shopping for gross matching boyfriend sweaters. They’re sickeningly adorable like that and Tommy maybe resents it a bit.
“It has helped though, has it not?” Noh tilts his head to the side in thought. “I believe they said it was an Earth custom, though I do not really understand the importance.”
Tommy blanches. “It’s not. Well it is, but not like a good one for awesome people. Only losers like Teddy and Billy wear stupid sweaters.”
He receives a hum in thought as his reply as Noh eyes him up in down. He would almost consider that move checking him out if it were anyone but Noh-Varr, but nope, Tommy refuses to go there and huffs.
“Good. You’re less annoying when you’re content, Thomas,” Noh-Varr comments pleasantly and Tommy immediately glares and mutters, ‘Tommy’ under his breath before the Kree turns toward the doorway. Without really saying goodbye. They would need to work on manners, Tommy thinks dryly, watching him.
“Oh, and I’m not wearing this. Just because I’m taking it as a sign of your weird alien friendship. I don’t do sweaters,” Tommy adds quickly as Noh-Varr leaves.
Tommy looks down at the sweater from hell in his arms and frowns at it more because he’s not sure what to do with it than anything.
.
.
Tommy only wears it because it’s cold. The sweater is still an abomination that is too large for his frame and the sleeves hang past his hands like a child. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it, but he slips it on after a moment of heavy consideration because it’s actually freezing and he’s alone in the guest room anyways.
It’s itchy against his skin, like he thought it would be.
He falls asleep in it with a subtle sense of comfort, blanketed in itchy heat that he’s fonder of than he should be. Tommy doesn’t think of Noh-Varr, not at all. Just because he gave him a sweater doesn’t place him higher that would grant him a space in his thoughts. But maybe it was sort of nice to have someone trying for once. At least Noh-Varr made an effort to establish a friendship when everyone has paired off it seems like.
It doesn’t excuse him from being a total asshole, but Tommy doesn’t hate him, really.
But still, it’s pretty nice being noticed.
.
.
Tommy hides the sweater under his bed when he wakes up because there is no way in hell he’s letting Billy find it. He’s not a sentimental person, he doesn’t do feelings. Feelings are messy and get him into too much shit. Feelings require a certain amount of trust that Tommy isn’t willing to put forth.
So it’s not because of any sentimental value that Tommy wears the sweater to bed the next night. It’s just cold, is all.
.
.
It’s too early for whatever this is, Tommy thinks with a sleepy groan. He can hear Billy running around the house for whatever reason that he does. Something vaguely came to mind about a comic release today but he didn’t think too much of his brother’s nerdy obsessions when it was absurdly early.
Granted, the light had begun to filter into the room through the blinds in slivers, climbing up the walls and spanning across the ceiling. The room should be colder than this, but Tommy feels content in the warmth he’s wrapped himself in. It’s a hazy, lethargic heat that he feels soaking into his bones, and he doesn’t want it to ever leave. Tommy just wants to stay in bed forever.
“Tommy!” Billy yells from the hall.
The aforementioned hero grumbles and buries his face into the pillow.
Too early for this shit.
There’s a slam on the door as Billy lets himself in, talking a mile a minute. “Tommy have you seen my limited edition—Oh my god, you’re wearing it!”
Billy’s voice cracks off into laughter that has him doubling over before Tommy can wake up enough to process what is happening. He rubs at his eyes, frowning when he realizes that there’s a phone pointed at him and the distinct click of a picture being taken.
“Billy,” Tommy growls, throwing a blanket over himself as if to preserve his modesty, “What the fuck.”
“Y-You’re wearing the sweater,” Billy manages between laughs, grinning at him, fingers flying across the screen of his phone. Tommy’s eyes widen in understanding, because that little fucker is sending the picture. He jumps out of bed, grabbing for the phone in what should be super speed because he’s a mutant for god’s sake.
If only he could process things super quickly when half asleep.
“Too late! Sent it!” Billy says with another shameless grin, ducking away from Tommy’s hold and—not far he’s using magic to escape. That breaks the rules of sibling bickering, he can’t just wish himself out of the way. But he does, because he’s Billy. Fucking mages.
Tommy throws off the sweater and glares at it as the source of all of his problems.
.
.
He expects to be immediately be attacked, but finds that everyone acts oblivious about the sweater incident. Even though he knows he sent that picture to both Teddy and Kate. There have been no mocking looks or even subtle allusions to the ordeal. He thinks that maybe they got it out of their system and that everything has blown over.
Although he till hasn’t seen Noh-Varr, but he doesn’t want to think about that.
A week before Christmas, they are all invited to Tony Stark’s private Christmas party which is awesome because for one, it’s a Stark party. Secondly, it acknowledges that they’re actual Avengers, despite some of the team’s absence. More importantly, it’s a party thrown by Tony Stark.
Tommy stuffs the sweater in his closet just in case someone wants to suggest that he wear it to the party.
He tags along with Billy and his other half, rubbing at his arms. They walk too slow, he thinks and exhales a breath that materializes in a white fog. He could be running, already inside somewhere warm by now. Tommy hates all things slow, but Billy will pull that hurt puppy dog look and no one needs that.
The party is everything that Tommy had hoped for and more. The music is blaring, the vibrations of the bass felt under their feet with a swarm of bodies and familiar faces. Tommy isn’t fond of overplayed Christmas music, but in this setting it’s alright considering he’s chosen some of the more upbeat songs.
Christmas lights litter the rooms, draping across walls in elegant twists. There are only bits of red and green splattered around the rooms. It’s classy and utterly Stark.
He shouldn’t be surprised how quickly he loses Teddy and Billy, but Tommy finds himself being tugged on and turns around to face Noh-Varr in all his alien glory.
“Thomas,” he greets with a nod. Tommy wonders if he’s been dressed by Kate, considering that Noh is actually wearing a charcoal sweater that clings to the contour of his form nicely. It’s much nicer than the knit that he had given to Tommy. Even his jeans are fitted nicely. Kate must have helped.
“How did you get in here?” Tommy asks skeptically. No one had really been pleased with harboring a Kree exiled from his own planet and Earth, but enough of fighting the common enemy granted him some place on the team.
“I was invited,” Noh says simply. He tugs a little at Tommy’s wrist, pulling him past some of their teammates. Tommy stumbles for a moment, but swats at his hand quickly.
“You wore the sweater,” Noh murmurs, leaning in closer than he had been before. Tommy wants to ask why he thinks it’s okay to start pulling people around places and to mind his personal space before he feels something warm and firm against his lips. Noh-Varr is kissing him, one hand still firm on his wrist and the other on his shoulder as if keeping him in place.
Tommy’s head feels a little dizzy. His thoughts haven’t quite caught up with the situation, so that it’s happening in more of a blur. Noh kisses him like he’s demanding something, like he’s done this before and has no hesitation in taking what he wants. It’s not forceful, but it’s confident and warm and Tommy forgets that he should pull away.
“What the hell,” Tommy blinks, staring back at the Kree who is looking at him smugly.
“Earth custom,” Noh explains, “Like the sweater. You kiss on thresholds at your celebration.”
“What,” Tommy furrows his brows and looks up at the innocently clear doorway, “No, what the fuck it doesn’t work like that. That’s mistletoe. You kiss under mistletoe in doorways and there’s none here thanks.”
And yet, Noh-Varr had still dragged him under he so that he could kiss him.
Noh really doesn’t seem concerned. “My mistake. Your brother seems to have faulty information about Earth customs.”
It dawns on Tommy that Noh had actually been asking Billy advice. Gift giving and kissing? He almost laughs, because he knows that this at least is universally the same between their races. Noh has been trying to freaking court him. And it’s stupidly endearing in all these ways that Tommy doesn’t want it to be, because Noh is an asshole, but he’s an asshole that Tommy respects and is apparently noticed by enough he wanders off to learn ‘Earth customs.’
“It’s not even Christmas yet, you’re doing everything wrong,” Tommy complains.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” Noh-Varr says with a small grin, leaning back in without much time for Tommy to get another word in. It’s a little softer this time, but Tommy kisses back because he’s warm like itchy sweaters and sleepy mornings, arms strong as they wind around his waist, and he hadn’t really pondered too much on his sexuality before but he thinks he could get used to this.
Noh feels like a lot of things that Tommy hadn’t known he wanted, but the tongue pressing into his mouth isn’t leaving any room for complaints.
.
.
.
“I’m surprised you wore the sweater,” Noh admits to him, an arm slung around his shoulders. This time it’s actually Christmas and Tommy grumbles at the physical affection but doesn’t try to remove Noh-Varr from attaching himself to Tommy like he needs to show that he’s taken.
It could be worse, Tommy thinks, glancing at Billy who has found his spot in Teddy’s lap and buried his face into his neck. This gathering is a lot tamer considering it’s mostly just their team and a makeshift Christmas tree thrown together at the last minute.
“Of course,” Tommy rolls his eyes, “On Earth, that thing is really fugly.”
Noh laughs. Actually laughs at him. “I know. Which is why I’m surprised you wore it at all. I was questioning the taste of Earthlings, to be honest.”
“You knew it was ugly and you still gave it to me?” Tommy asks, “Seriously? It was one thing when you were being alien oblivious but really?”
“It was amusing,” Noh smirks. He doesn’t sound sorry at all, even after all of the turmoil this sweater has brought Tommy.
“I’m burning it,” Tommy declares, “I hate it and you’re a terrible person and—”
Noh really needs to stop using kissing as a way to shut him up. Actually, Tommy needs to stop giving in so easily, but it’s not his fault when Noh is surprisingly good at making him melt with his mouth. Tommy totally deserves nice kisses anyways, but he’s still destroying the sweater.