Pairing: Becker / Stephen
Word Count: 454
Summary: For Neitie’s primeval denial fandom stocking, using the prompt “sealed with a kiss”
“So how did you get talked into this? You don’t look as though you’re here willingly.”
Stephen looked around at Becker, glad to see that he wasn’t the only one hiding out. The deep bay window had thick curtains at either side, and the lack of decent lighting here made sure that the other man was as hidden as he could be without actually leaving the room. Becker’s dark clothing blended him into the shadows, which was probably why Stephen hadn’t noticed him earlier.
“I could ask you the same question.”
Becker smiled. “I was instructed to ‘show my face, or else’ by a certain PR consultant, who may have indicated that I would be on guard duty for a month if I opted not to.”
“That sounds familiar,” Stephen commiserated, “except I got a lecture about it being good for morale and team unity and that participation was not optional.”
“I swear, I’ve had CO’s less terrifying that that woman when she puts her mind to something.” Becker moved aside on the window seat to let Stephen into his hiding place.
Stephen sat, accepting the bottle of beer that Becker produced from somewhere to his left, looking out over their colleagues. He had a pretty good view of the party from here, without having to actually join in.
With a shared hatred of Christmas parties as a starting point, Stephen found Becker very easy to talk to. He’d never really had much interaction with the man before, not in a social setting anyway, but they had more interests in common than he’d expected. He found Becker’s dry humour particularly entertaining, commenting on their colleagues’ increasingly drunken antics, before the conversation turned to sharing amusing stories from their pasts.
A couple of hours later, the beer stash that Becker hidden behind the curtain on the window ledge ran out, driving both men back into the chaos in search of the buffet table. Of course, someone had to be a joker, didn’t they? Right above the buffet table…
“Hey! You’re under the mistletoe!” Connor slurred loudly. “C’mon kiss!”
Connor’s shout was loud enough to alert half of the people in the room, who started to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss!’.
Stephen glanced up, seeing the offending green twig dangling above the table, then at Becker.
“Well, it is tradition,” the other man said, smiling.
What started as a peck on the lips to please the crowd quickly turned into a deep kiss, Becker’s arms sliding around his waist, pulling him closer.
A loud whistle and a cheer made Stephen pull back, remembering where they were.
“How about we continue this ‘team building exercise’ elsewhere?”
“I’d say that sounds like a bloody good idea. Your place or mine?”