Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, mistletoe, eggnog or Christmas.
Notes: Well, it's late. To tell the truth, I didn't expect to write a Christmas fic (I'd already touched on it with my Oliveer oneshot), but after Christmas I managed to find the time to read all of the wonderful Christmas stories everyone else had produced. I must say, the amount of times mistletoe came into the picture was amazing. I've never actually seen mistletoe, but I have heard of the traditions, of course. So, anyway, I was inspired to write my own mistletoe fic (in two parts):
"A Mistletoe Story" by Dailenna
Part One of Two: The Party
It's that time of year again. That glorious time of year in which I can finally get out and experience life. The trees are set in place and decorated with bright bells and baubles. A roast dinner cooks in the kitchen, just out of my sight, but wafting the smell into the lounge room so that I carry the slightest smell of lamb and rosemary on me for a little while. Tinsel hangs across windows and over doorways, and lights flash around outside.
Outside. I haven't really been outside – at least, not in my memory – but I catch glimpses of it every now and then. Whenever someone opens the door a gust of air blows in, and whether it's ushering snow into the house or a fresh lot of rain is falling, it always seems to be cold, especially as compared to my warm little home.
Of course, I'm only out for one month a year, sometimes a little less. After that, all the other Christmas decorations and myself are packed away in the attic in our individual boxes, so that we don't get tangled or lost. All the other ornaments are packed with others of their own kind, but I'm the only one of me. There is no other like me wandering around, packed in another box by mistake. I can see through the clear plastic walls of my packaging, and look at the ornaments or the tinsels conversing and living, but the only time I have anything more interesting to do than sleep or think is when I'm hung out for the holidays.
The last few years, the big day itself has been the same over and again, I think. You could ask the angel on top of the tree, and I suppose she'd say it was different from her side, but I think that no matter how many times it happens, it's always got the same basic layout:
We're checked on to make sure none of us are moulting too much, and that we're still giving the same quality service as we have been since we were newly bought. Then the smells of herbs and spices will begin to waft into our room over a period of a few hours. The doorbell will ring, and the guests will arrive bit by bit, and soon they'll eat. When they've all eaten they'll sit around at the dinner table talking for a while, and then put music on. Sometimes background music, and sometimes dancing music – although, if it's only the ambient sort of thing, they'll put on some good dancing music later. I guess they just like moving around to it. It looks like fun to me. Between dinner and the time they go home, they usually become more and more inebriated. It certainly looks amusing from my viewpoint, although I can imagine that if I was a little lower, I'd be in potential danger. Eventually those who don't collapse on the floor stagger out of the door, laughing as they go.
Of course, that's just the basic outline. The intricate details are a lot more different. Like the people coming and going, or the emotional state of half of them.
Since I really have nothing else to do with my time, I've memorised my findings of these people. I've kept in mind their comings and goings, and categorised them, bit-by-bit. I could recite to you the events in sequence, or by person, or even in alphabetical orders – yes, I've given them titles. There's not much else for me to do, now, is there?
It is that day again, and I can feel the smells attaching themselves to me again. They've been doing so for some time now, and I can already hear the doorbell ringing. Gracia, as I have learnt is her name, walks out into the entrance hall and lets the first three guests in, thanking them for being so early. From what I hear, they've promised to help out with preparing things. The two boys – Ed and Al; I've seen them around before – stretch their muscles and make noises about helping with lifting heavy things. The girl with them tells them they'll need to grow some of that muscle they're trying to show off, first, and the smaller one starts shouting something about tiny molecules, and needing to grow.
Eventually, the three are set off to their different tasks, and I spend time watching them curiously. The dining table is moved to make room for the extra table to join it, in order that all the guests can eat together. Chairs are placed alongside it, and the pre-prepared food and drinks are arranged upon them. A punch bowl and some cups are placed off to the side, where the boys loiter when they've finished their job. The girl is helping Gracia out in the kitchen.
The doorbell rings again and Gracia asks if one of the boys can let the new arrival in. The new arrival is actually five men. I recognise Havoc, Feury, Breda and Falman, but the blond with them doesn't look familiar. He mustn't have been before. He's quiet too, but that might just be in relation to the others. Between them, Havoc and Breda are making enough noise that I'm surprised I can't smell alcohol already.
They bundle themselves into the house and start making themselves cosy. Soon enough, Gracia comes out and greets them all properly.
Breda looks around in shock. "Hawkeye's not here yet? Doesn't she usually arrive about half an hour before us?"
He's exaggerating, of course. By my timing, Hawkeye usually arrives between five and ten minutes before them.
"Maria is coming this year and Riza's bringing her, so she might have been set back by the extra traffic," Gracia explains.
Riza is what Gracia calls Hawkeye. To tell the truth, she calls everyone by a different name than the others give them. She calls Havoc 'Jean', and Feury 'Kain', and the others all something else. She calls Ed 'Edward', but then, Hawkeye does that too. And Mustang calls Ed 'Fullmetal', and Falman calls him 'Major Elric', and all the others call him other things as well. I suppose they all have their own names for their friends, it's just some are more common.
Havoc is just starting on the punch when Mustang arrives, and Mustang notices.
"That is still somewhat unspiked, isn't it?" he asks. "I do want to be able to drive home by the end of the evening."
"What for? It's not like we have work tomorrow, chief," Havoc replies with a grin. When Mustang sighs, he adds "I haven't tampered with it yet, though, if you want to get in fast."
Mustang gets a hug when Gracia notices he has arrived. He's been coming to her Christmases for a long time now, longer than any of the others, and he's a good friend, after all.
Not long afterwards, Hawkeye arrives with a brunette by her side. I assume that this is the Maria Gracia mentioned earlier.
Now that everyone is here, the dinner is finally allowed to begin. They settle around at the tables, praising Gracia and 'Winry' (the blonde girl, perhaps?) for the products of their cooking. I can barely see them, as only the end of the table is visible from where I hang. While Breda is chewing up a mouthful, however, he sees me. I can see the smile spread on his face, and he nudges the shoulder next to him. A moment later Feury's head pops into view, and he sees me too.
This year, I'm hanging above one corner of a lounge. Each year I'm relocated, but eventually someone finds me, and it all comes down to the same thing. Now that someone has found me, I know what's coming next. When it happens, it's a little different to usual, though.
After dinner the guests file out into the lounge room to turn some music on and to relax with each other. Gracia has enlisted the help of Havoc and Mustang to carry the punchbowl and a small table out to the room, so that drinks would be more easily accessible.
The blond man that arrived with the all other guys is standing beneath me, talking nervously with Maria when Feury walks past casually, his cough sounding suspiciously like my name. The blond and brunette both look up at me, and with their cheeks turning red, they look at each other hesitantly, and eventually she leans forwards to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. They stutter their way back into conversation ("S-silly traditions.") but I've obviously made them uncomfortable, and Maria leaves to speak with Hawkeye. The blond man watches after her for a moment before looking back at me, and finding somewhere else to stand.
A little while later, loitering once again, Ed is interrupted from his five-second conversation with Winry by Gracia, who smiles at the two of them, and points up at me. Winry puts her head to one side, watching as Ed turns a darker shade of crimson than his coat. By the time he's worked up the nerve to be able to speak again, the whole room is paying attention.
"Go on!"
"It's just a kiss, Fullmetal. Don't get so worked up about it."
Finally, Gracia's gentle "You're not going to keep her waiting, are you?" convinces him (although it does make Winry's face flush dramatically), and Ed pauses one more moment before lunging forwards and planting a quick kiss on Winry's lips. He pulls back quickly, amidst the cheers and laughter of the men. Havoc has spiked the punch by now, and it's starting to take its toll on people.
Ed does no more than sulk in the corner until everyone stops paying attention and they slowly filter into open spaces to dance. When Winry realises he's not going to talk to her any more, she goes off to find Al and dance with him. If I could sigh I would. It seems that I just have the talent to make anyone feel awkward.
"What a pity Scieszka isn't here, eh, Falman?" one of the guys asks with a grin.
Falman frowns, confused. "What? Why?"
The other man looks at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Never mind, you're too thick when it comes to real-life situations, aren't you?"
I haven't met Scieszka before, but by the sound of it, that would just be one more awkward moment to add to the list. I think that moments of awkwardness must be all I'm good for, sometimes.
The songs flicker through different tempos and styles, and eventually people start sitting down, one at a time. While the others are still moving around to the music, Mustang walks over to the lounge. He looks up at me and moves deliberately to the side I am not hanging over. I don't blame him. Not with tradition and all.
He's in animated conversation with Feury from his seat, when Havoc, the tallest of the lot, makes sure he's out of Mustang's peripheral vision before reaching up and plucking me off my place on the ceiling. Feury keeps Mustang distracted while Havoc replaces me, over Mustang's head. When he's done and he's sure I'm not going to fall down, he gives Feury a quick thumbs up and moves off. Feury doesn't waste any more time with the conversation than necessary.
Just nearby, Breda has been talking with Hawkeye. As Feury steps aside and catches his eye, the larger man smiles and turns Hawkeye around quickly, giving her a rough push. Before she can catch herself properly, she staggers forwards a few steps, and her knees buckle as her legs hit the edge of the lounge. A very surprised Mustang finds himself unable to put up his hands in time to stop her flying towards him. He gives a pained yell as her knee meets his crotch, and less than a second later her shoulder slams into his nose. He's altogether in too much pain to pay attention to the breast against his chin.
Even if not everyone in the room saw the incident, they're certainly looking now. When she's finally caught herself, she braces her hands on either side of him, on the back of the lounge, and extricates herself, apologising profusely.
"No, it's alright, Lieutenant," Mustang tells her. 'Lieutenant' is his name for her. One arm is clutched protectively over his crotch, and the other hand wipes at his nose, checking for blood. "Nothing permanent. Hopefully."
Hawkeye takes the time to glare angrily at Breda, who shrugs, not bothering to hide his amusement. He points up at me. "Mistletoe." By this time Havoc and Feury are by his sides, creating a united front.
Mustang and Hawkeye both look up at me, eyes wide. They glance at where I had been – the last place they remember seeing me – and then back at me before turning to scowl at the men.
From the other side of the room Ed laughs. "What was that, Colonel Bastard? 'It's just a kiss. Don't get so worked up about it.'"
The frown on Mustang's face deepens as he looks at the boy, and he turns to Hawkeye exasperatedly. She looks at him worriedly, still seeming to feel guilty for landing on him. He sighs and beckons with a finger. "Come here, Lieutenant."
Obediently, she kneels beside him, and he takes her chin in one hand, tilting her head towards his so that when their lips meet he's slightly higher than she is.
The room is silent, and Havoc and Breda exchange grins. The previous couples of the night appear somewhat shocked, but the rest of the room smiles in amusement. Although the method may be somewhat altered, it's no different to what has happened each year before this one. Ed may have been to Gracia's Christmases previously, but he didn't seem to think his comment would be given such a reception – if I remember correctly, he's only seen quick pecks before this.
Finally, the two pull back, and as Hawkeye's gaze moves to her knees so she has time to gather herself, Mustang looks expectantly back at the others. "Well, the show's over now, everyone. Get back to it."
The guys laugh. "Tradition's tradition, sir. You can't blame us." Then they turn around and get back to their festivities.
I notice Havoc slipping the rest of his flask into the punch, even as Gracia brings out a large jug of eggnog to join it on the table. "Now this one already has alcohol in it, so don't you try adding any more," she tells him sternly before going to fetch cups for it.
Hawkeye stands, smoothing down her skirt.
"Are you alright?" asks Mustang.
"Oh, I'm fine," she tells him. "I'm just sorry for . . . for landing on you like that. Will you be alright, sir?"
He waves it off, but winces when he tries to stand, and she moves to help him up.
"I think next year we might have to show them we can manage it on our own," he tells her when he's standing.
"Sir, not in public."
"It'll certainly save them from insisting on forcing it," he points out. "Might be a bit less painful, too. Come on, let's go get some eggnog. It'll leave us with less of a hangover in the morning than the punch, by now."
The next two hours seem very nondescript to me. The others have gotten over the novelty of my being there, and conversation takes a hold of the evening, people sipping at their cups as they converse. The whole feeling of the house settles down for a little while, until Al begins to doze on the other end of the couch. At that point, Ed decides that it's time for his group to leave. He wakes up his brother, and after saying some noisy farewells, he, Al and Winry leave. Just between the material of their coats, I can see Ed's hand holding Winry's.
Gracia looks at the condition of her guests. The five men who had arrived after the brothers and Winry had carpooled for the sake of Christmas cheer, and it seems that even their driver has consumed a fair amount of 'cheer'. Mustang is still coherent, but has clearly had too much to be allowed on the road, and even the women are on their third and fourth. Gracia makes the announcement that no one is going to be driving home tonight, and although there are one or two disgruntled faces, no one objects.
A cheer goes up from Havoc, startling the blond I have now heard referred to as 'Denny', who is standing beside him.
The party continues on as before, except that now everyone knows they won't be driving, a few pick up their glasses more frequently. Before long, Maria is yawning and Falman's eyes are sliding shut. Gracia begins to allocate rooms, sending Maria off to the absent Elysia's room, and Falman to the guest room.
"The rest of you," she says, "will have to find somewhere comfortable on your own."
"You've got a soft carpet, I'm sure we'll manage," Feury smiles, looking the most awake of all of them.
Gracia looks at the carpet, and disappears, coming back with an armful of pillows and blankets. "We don't have many extras, but I'm sure you'll cope. There are lounge cushions if you're desperate for a pillow," she tells everyone, setting down her armful by the side of a chair. Then she announces she will be going to bed now, too, and to keep the noise down.
Once Gracia is upstairs, Havoc suggests a game of strip poker, searching through a cupboard draw for a pack of cards. Mustang clears his throat, and reminds the other man that there is still a lady present in the room.
Havoc looks over to a highly amused Hawkeye. "Yeah, but she's already seen us all in our skivvies anyway," he says, pulling the pack out. "You want to play too, Hawkeye?" he asks with a grin.
From where I hang, I can just see the side of her face as she raises an eyebrow. "You're wrong – I haven't, but I will play," she tells him. He seems surprised by his luck.
"I wouldn't be so happy about that, Havoc," Mustang tells him, before turning to Hawkeye. "You're free to pull out as soon as you start getting uncomfortable."
The group sits in a circle on the floor – they're less likely to fall off their seats that way – and Havoc shuffles and deals as he speaks. "Alright, everyone. Not including those who fold, the worst hand of every deal removes one item of clothing, the best hand gets to choose what it is and keep it until the owner reclaims it. Essentials to general decency can be reclaimed immediately after the game, but extra pieces not until the morning. Since we have a lady present, we don't go beyond underwear. As soon as every piece of clothing other than underwear is removed, you're out."
The others make general sounds of agreement, and pick up their hands.