rains & mistletoes

f o u r

HE KISSED HER under the mistletoe.

Not that he kissed her because they were under the mistletoe.

But he kissed her nonetheless.

The thing is - he had always thought it'd happen a long long time in the future, despite his tangled feelings for her now. It would probably because they were very drunk in his sofa (or hers) while eating leftover pizza or fish-and-chips with the sound of the telly in the background. And it would probably because they were celebrating a milestone, maybe his degree or her first book.

But no.

And it was amazing.

--

It started like this:

Skandar was having a great night.

No, that was a lie.

He was actually all shivers and nerves and it wasn't because the Queen attended the premiere or because it was late November and it was cold.

She was wearing a black cardigan over a black low-cut sleeveless dress when he picked her up at her house but she discarded the garment inside the limo, showcasing the smooth porcelain-like skin of her shoulders.

A lump formed in his throat.

Later, during the screening, she whispered to him, breath hot against his ear, to ask if she could borrow his blazer because her cardigan was next to useless against the cold.

Biting his lip hard, he took off his blazer and gave it to her. He might have mumbled something clever in response but he couldn't remember; his senses were in shambles.

Then, they were in the after-party at Andrew's house and everyone else was there.

Their former director's house was now adorned for Christmas, though not fully (Andrew's ten foot tall Christmas was still noticeably absent.) A few tinsels were woven against balustrades and some stockings were hanging from the fireplace.

"Everyone watch out for the mistletoes," Andrew had warned jokingly the second they all entered his home. "My daughters had finished putting them up and they're everywhere."

It was comfortably warm so Anna took off his blazer and her cardigan.

Heart thudding, he shoved his hands into his pockets and desperately went looking for a drink.

"You and Anna came together." Georgie sidled up next to him in the kitchen, iced tea in hand. It was a statement, simple, and monotonous in delivery, yet Skandar felt like it was an interrogation.

"Well, we live right next to each other. So we thought it'd save time to just ride the same limo."

He would've sound so confident and so Skandar if that was what he said. In reality, he couldn't think and he was scrunching his face up, trying to look casual but failing, and running his free hand on his already tousled hair. "Yeah. We sort of -- we thought --"

Anna was now talking to Will, who had a stupid, moony-eyed look on his face.

Head buzzing, he took a drink from his glass. Georgie raised her eyebrows, an unreadable look on her face. Then she shrugged nonchalantly, saying, "Well, you live next to each other, I suppose. It's convenient for you to go together." She flashed him another look.

He wanted to nod but before she could, the girl made his way over to Will P. and Ben, leaving him hanging and wondering whether Georgie knew.

And then... then it was nearing midnight and everybody was heading home.

He almost collided with her in the passageway.

Later, when he'd get to the point where he needs flashback of even the tiniest details that led to the all important first kiss, he'd probably remember how or why he got into that passageway.

Right now, though, her hazel blue eyes were shining up at him in the dim light and her hair was loose from its elegant bun. She was so very close, smelled so good, that he had trouble breathing.

"Skandar," she smiled. "I never thought I'd see you here."

He was lying again, that was not what she said. In actuality, she was sort of stammering and fidgety, so unlike the Anna he knew. "Skan, what are you -- I mean --"

And he didn't know what to say either so he just kissed her.

And the tangled, twisted nerves that were present and hated all night were still there but now... now they were buzzing and firing up more than they ever did before and they felt great.

She didn't react at first, but then she was kissing him back, slowly and sweetly, her hands going up to his neck, fingers tangling through his slightly long and messy hair. He could taste the rum in her lips.

She pulled back after what felt like forever, gasping slightly. She looked up at him, slightly baffled.

"I know," he said, smiling crookedly. "You didn't know."

"No, I didn't."

He looped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him once again.

His kisses were less careful now and more urgent because it had been a year and two months since Australia and God knows how long he had been waiting for this. She didn't mind one bit, he thought. She returned his hungry kisses as if she had been longing for them, too.

Everything was amazingly and extraordinarily perfect. And then --

She was laughing against his lips.

He opened one eye to look at her. "What?"

She motioned upwards to the ceiling. "Mistletoe."

And true enough, when he looked up, the little plant with yellow flowers and white berries was hanging innocently above their heads.

--

And everything got much, much better after that.