Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, wish
I did, just enjoy writing about ‘em for free etc
Pairings: 1x2
Category: Fluff, more fluff
Warnings: Yaoi, lime
Spoilers: None
Notes: Be careful what you wish for… you may
receive it!
Happy (early) Christmas, jo!
Feedback: If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!
There was
a loud thump and a strangled curse from the hearth. Small clouds of dust and wood chips sprayed
on to the carpet. There was the glint of
eyes in the dim, Christmas tree bulb-light, from a figure that materialized
quite suddenly in the fireplace.
“Every
fucking time that catches me out,” came the bad-tempered growl. A rounded figure scrambled to its feet,
rubbing at a twisted knee, brushing the sticky thread of cobweb off a long
white beard. “Time she sent that set of
tongs to the Thrift store – and is that damned poker left at that angle deliberately? If I have to spend another New Year with my
ass in a bucket of ice…”
There
were more grumblings as the figure hauled the large sack off his back. It was wriggling, which was worrying in
itself. He loosened the cord at the top,
and tugged it open. Then he stood back
and clapped his hands.
More
curses followed – he almost hadn’t stood back far enough. Like one of those frighteningly efficient
collapsible tents, a huge double bed sprang out into the living room. Its legs thudded against the TV – the bedding
settled with a protest of puffing feathers and freshly washed cotton.
“Damned ducks…” came a muttered grumble, as a feather
vanished into the thick white hair, unlikely to be found until another
Christmas or two had passed. “Look damned good on the table,
with roast potatoes and parsnips –“he sneezed, as another wisp went up his
nose, and a flurry of soot scattered across the shrinking sack. He clapped again.
The cord at
the mouth of the sack stretched open and two young men were revealed. The first one was in rather fashionably cut blue
flannelette pyjamas, with a silk embroidered monogram on the left breast
pocket. His feet were bare – he ran his
hand through thick, chocolate-brown hair.
He scrambled to his feet, scowling at the bed, as the corner of the
mattress caught at his kidneys.
“This is
only an apartment, not a furniture showroom!” he complained. “You think she’s going to be happy with a
huge bed in her living room?” He turned
to the other man at his feet, also scrambling for purchase on the small part of
flooring still left for them to manoeuvre in. “For God’s sake, Duo, keep your elbows in, I said –“
The other
young man was dressed only in loose, low-slung sweat pants. They looked rather debonair on his slim,
athletic hips. He tugged the end of a
long chestnut-coloured braid out from between a Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Disk boxed set
and a fully working Power Rangers Megazord (with realistic laser sounds), and
stretched his cramped body out. “Damned
uncomfortable in there, boss! When you
gonna fork out some cash for the Deluxe Multi-Use Expandable version?”
“Shut up
with your wailing,” came the snappy reply from their red-suited transport
manager, the voice a little muffled from a mouthful of sticky chicken
wings. There’d been a plate of them on
the hearth – the plate was now empty; it may even have been licked clean. There were suspicious flecks of sauce on the
pure white beard, but the owner could care less.
As the
young men watched him, he scooped up a handful of change from a pot on the
occasional table, and slid it swiftly into his voluminous pocket. “Just about enough for a couple of beers in
the Social Club,” he grumbled. “Gonna
have to beg an advance off Rudolf again.
Like he’s been Lord Bountiful since his ticket came up on the Lottery…”
The boys looked
around the room and then turned to each other, having appraised their new home
for the holidays. Duo looked down at his
lack of clothing, running a finger thoughtfully over a bare brown nipple. For a minute, he looked rather
resentful. “So how come you get to be properly clothed, Heero?”
“She
loves my hair,” his companion smirked back.
“And my eyes. Like I should have to rely on the blatant,
outrageous sexuality of a bare torso –“
“Stood me
in good stead in many a fic,” grumbled Duo.
“Can’t remember you
complaining, either…” He caught Heero’s
flickering glance at his nipple, and tweaked it deliberately. His companion moaned gently.
The man
in the black boots gave a delighted little cry behind them. He scooped up a small package, read his name
on the label, and snorted with pleasure.
“She always knows just what I
like best!” he crowed, ripping off the paper with the naïve enthusiasm of one
of his staff of elves.
He
snapped the CD into his portable player, and wriggled the earpiece in between two
large ears and more fuzzy white hair. A
beatific smile crept over his face, and he started to sway gently on his large,
flat feet. A loud, toneless voice began
to croon from under the curling moustache, accompanying the ‘tshht, tshht’ of a
heavy, muted pop beat “Could it be
magic, oh! Oh!... Come and hold on faaaast…”
The two
boys looked at the singer, then back at each other. Eyes rolled.
“Any
chicken wings left?” asked Duo, hopefully.
“Nope,”
sighed Heero. He stroked at a trail of
sweat running down the other boy’s bare chest, and his blue eyes were never
more bright. They flickered between the smooth
flesh in front of him and the bed behind.
“You want to try for some other kind of nourishment instead?”
Duo
grinned. He stared hungrily at the bed
as well. “She might not like us making
ourselves that much at home…” he
said, cautiously.
“She’s
broad minded…” said Heero, determinedly.
“She likes us. Else she’d never
have requested us, would she?” He sank
gently to his beflannelled knees, and slid a hand into the waistband of his
companion’s sweat pants. Duo sighed with
pleasure, both immediate and anticipatory.
He sank back to a sitting position, the huge bed creaking comfortingly
under him.
The third,
far more portly man looked over at the pair of them, watching with aimless interest
as Duo leant his weight back against the pillows with one hand, and rested the
other on Heero’s dark, bobbing head.
“At the
Copa – Copa Cabana –“ the red-suited man mumbled happily. He picked a thread of chicken from between
his back teeth, and picked up the sack again.
“Look
what I found under the pillow!” smirked Duo, sliding a tube of something that most
certainly wasn’t Christmas Cake icing across the bedspread. From the writing on the side, it seemed it
was for easing the way in the most personal of activities. What every Christmas stocking should include,
indeed.
“And look
what I found,” Heero smirked even
more wickedly, his hand having found a pair of fur-lined, holly-patterned
handcuffs barely hidden under the valance sheet.
“No!”
said Duo, warningly. “It’s nearly dawn –
she gets up with the lark, ever since they let her home from work early –“
“But yes!” said Heero, and all three men
started at the sharp sound of the cuff snapping shut on Duo’s wrist and the bed
post. Heero crawled up on the bed, one
of the buttons of his flannel pyjama jacket popping off in his haste. Duo groaned; though it didn’t sound like distress.
The
red-suited man checked the large, novelty Deathscythe watch on his wrist, and
made a noise of irritation. “Time to go,
boys,” he said.
“For you,
that is…” moaned Duo, wrapping a long slim leg round the other young man’s
waist. He had little attention left for
anyone else. “You mind the telecoms
cables on the roof, now…”
Heero
couldn’t answer coherently. His mouth
was occupied on festive fare of a more delicious kind. Pocky, it wasn’t.
There was
the creaking of a floorboard in another room, as if the owner of the apartment
might be stirring. No-one paid much
notice.
“Of
course -” grinned the plump postman, “perhaps she’ll appear any minute and
catch you going at it like horny reindeer!”
He braced
himself, clapped his hands, and vanished like the ripple of a cheap TV
flashback. The chimney shook in protest,
the poker fell with a rattling clatter to the floor. There was nothing left in the living room
except the bed, the boys and breath that was both harsh and ecstatic.
A
chuckling voice echoed back down the chimney into the fireplace. “But then, I always know what she likes best, too!” he chortled.
End