'Tis the season
I - Sunny
It takes Komatsu a second to notice the little sprig of green seemingly hovering in thin air over his head; not just because it's, well, hovering, but because Sunny has him backed against a wall, hand positioned above his shoulder to let Komatsu know this is exactly where Sunny wants him and he's not getting away until the bishokuya lets him go.
Not that he's particularly interested in getting away, and there's nowhere to go besides. They're on a private balcony of one of the many towering restaurants in Gourmet Town, so high that the city's noise is blanketed beneath a softly gusting wind. The stars are out full force tonight. It's cold enough that Komatsu's breath mists in front of his nose, but Sunny is warm and close and the hair coiled around his hands is doing a decent job of trapping his body heat.
Sunny leans over him, blocking Komatsu's view - probably for the best, since he can't get unsteady about how high up they are if he can't see - and he looks lovely in the golden glow of the candles illuminating the room behind them. Komatsu is trying to guess if this is going where he thinks it's going when Sunny lowers the plant between them and smirks.
"You know what this is, Matsu?"
Waxy, pointed leaves, small red and white berries, tied neatly with a pretty blue bow… "Mistletoe?"
"Mmm, that's righ'." Sunny moves the sprig up again, and this time Komatsu follows its progress with his eyes, which is why he doesn't notice there's suddenly a lot more hair wrapped around him, not only on his hands now but pressing against the back of his neck, tightening on his waist and under his knees, lifting him clear of the ground.
Komatsu yelps in surprise, and then there are sweet-smooth lips on his and long fingers under his chin to hold him in place. The kiss tastes of wine, is slow and deep and luscious, and Komatsu sinks into it, cups Sunny's cheeks in his palms. Wispy strands of hair map the planes of his face, sweeping across his forehead and eyes to touch curiously at the join of their mouths, but when the ticklish sensation gets too close to his nose, Komatsu jerks back in time to sneeze into the crook of his elbow.
He underestimates just how much of a hold Sunny has on him.
The Heavenly King sets him down a little harder than he probably meant to, the colorful hair Komatsu sneezed all over whipping around unhappily. "Ugh," he groans. "That's so disgustin', Matsu!"
Smiling sheepishly, feeling really very guilty, he can only apologize. "Sorry, Sunny-san."
II- Coco
There is mistletoe hanging from the ceiling of Coco's home, right over the table, though Komatsu supposes 'hanging' isn't an accurate way of describing it. The poor plant looks as if it's been hastily forced into a gap between the stones that the circular building consists of, a panicky last minute addition.
Komatsu writes it off at first, thinking the mistletoe a mere holiday decoration even though the rest of the house is bare of adornment. But eventually he notices the way Coco keeps stealing glances at it as they talk; his eyes flick from the sprig to his steaming tea, from the ceiling to the table as he pulls the bandages from his head and drags his fingers through his hair, and, just once, from the mistletoe to Komatsu, rubbing nervously at the bridge of his nose.
When Coco's uncharacteristic restlessness continues, Komatsu can't help but smile despite his own uncertainty, imagining Coco pacing as tries to decide whether to put the mistletoe up or not and just deciding to go for it in the end. Komatsu fiddles with his own cup as he wonders what to do. He knows, logically, that Coco's hesitancy probably stems from living alone for so long, but he can't stand the thought of misreading the situation and being politely rejected.
