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matt's hands are warm and heavy where they rest on nick's shoulders, thumb rubbing mindlessly up and down the hem of nick's ugly christmas sweater and over onto his skin, up his neck. the feeling is soothing, and matt leans forward, giggly and smiling as he presses his forehead under nick's left ear. he mumbles something far too low for nick to hear, arms slumping right over nick's shoulders, front pressed up against nick's back.
fiona says something, and nick feels like he should really probably be listening to her, but really its far too hard to with matt's breath dancing in the crook of his neck. nick tries to turn his head, because whatever incoherencies matt is murmuring at him is far more important, but he just gets a face full of scruffy hair, his glasses bumping against his nose painfully.
matt smiles against nick's neck, snuggling closer and looks up to the people around him. he smiles at them too, but nick feels like it's not the same one he got before and something warm and fuzzy settles inside him that's not the terrible wine he's been drinking.
actually, now that nick's thinking about his drink, he realises happily that it must be a never-ending glass. he was sure it was empty before, just a smidgen of burgundy at the bottom of the glass, but now the cheery red liquid is sparkling there, filling up his glass. grinning, he picks it up again to take another sip, and it's warming as it goes down his throat, but not as warm as matt's cheek pressed close to him, against his jaw.
as his focus turns back to the group, oh the lovely radio one group he smiles, someone's pointing upwards. nick thinks it might be tina, but then again, really, it could be anyone. he's not really paying attention. matt's head shifts against his, and nick turns to look at him, matt's eyes trying to focus on something above them.
"oh," matt smiles resting his head back against nick's cheek, "mistletoe." he says like it's a huge discovery and nick's inclined to believe that it is until it sort of clicks what mistletoe means.
there's a wolf whistle and nick flaps a rude gesture at the general direction it came from and matt's already half in his lap when he gets his concentration back onto the important things. like the way matt's looking at him, fingers going up to rest at the sides of his glasses, unsure of whether to take them off nick's nose or what.
eventually, matt does decide he rather likes his own eyes and doesn't really want to get them poked out and the glasses end up next to the never-ending wine glass. their noses bump, and matt's mouth is warm and tastes like the god-awful wine they've been drinking. nick nips sloppily at matt's bottom lip, drags it into his mouth and tries not to wonder who's saliva is dribbling down his own lip.
the kiss is messy and they can't quite seem to find the right rhythm, but when the traditional that's-quite-enough-under-the-mistletoe-snogging-time is finished nick leans back in and matt's already there to greet him.