disclaimer: I don't own the canon.
author's note: christmas fluff, enjoy. (title from "all i want for christmas")
summary: she blames it on the carols and the tinsel/ a 5&1 deal, the other side of mistletoe - lokixdarcy
.i.
(she blames it on the carols and the tinsel because this is completely crazy)
She'd danced all night long to procrastinate and was quite strict with her eggnog consumption – she wanted a little extra courage to go with her green silk heels but she didn't want to be intoxicated. She'd seen the way he eyed the green plant hanging in decorative gatherings throughout the room, and still avoided mingling with the others. She straightened her dress one more time and eyed her target.
Gripping her gift in one hand she stalked across the room, cutting through the floor and completely ignoring the attention she was drawing and stood as tall as she could and smiled up at him.
(darcy's always been good at multi-tasking, it is easy enough to press the gift into his hands, smile into his shocked eyes, stand on the tip of her toes and pull him down for a kiss)
.ii.
"He's moping," she said flatly to Steve, herding him away from the punch. She'd spiked it earlier and was feeling charitable enough to save him from it. "He's like Scrooge."
"Not everybody can be happy." The soldier reminded her, thinking of a strange man and his cigar from the war. She huffed, pressed a glass of mulled cider into his hands.
"It's Christmas." Darcy insisted. Steve shrugged.
"There are people Darcy, who've never been allowed to have something as wonderful as Christmas."
(darcy steals the mistletoe from jane's hair and sits in loki's lap)
(shut up, she says irritably, i'm saving christmas for you)
.iii.
They're making garlands at the kitchen table. Steve is happily helping in the kitchen with Jane – he's the only one to be trusted with the baking which is totally unfair, and Thor's been sent on a tree hunt. Darcy doesn't like to imagine what monstrosity of a tree he'll bring back.
She and Loki are drowning underneath popcorn and paper. He's stuck folding paper into intricate shapes – grown up, fancy chains of stars and she, as the female of the pair, has the needle and the popcorn to thread. It's very hard to be irritable with Burl Ives though, so she duct tapes her thumb for a make-shift thimble and says nothing about it.
Steve gets stuck underneath the mistletoe by accident and Darcy takes pity on him, as Jane won't stop laughing at his horrified face.
"Loki, stop panicking. Mistletoe obligates you to kiss people, not kill them."
He turns with a narrowed frown and a question on his lips.
"It's Christmas."
(christmas seems to be a magical time where anything can happen, and loki begins to understand, everyone is family)
.iv.
"Hey. You're tall."
It's not so much a question as it is an observation, and underneath that, a subtle command. Loki sighs, stretches out of his slouch and glares balefully from over his book. Darcy is unmoved and covered with bits of strange wire and lanterns.
A blessing, perhaps, that he is Laufey's son. The wind has a bitter bite, and the lights are flighty, uncooperative. The girl holds the ladder, wrapped up in her scarf and mittens. A flick of a hidden switch and the fixtures light up and bathe the yard in a twinkling glow.
On the way in, his hair brushes against something – Thor is laughing. Loki turns scarlet, mortified.
(darcy tugs on his arm with a smile and a friendly roll of the eyes)
(he plays along, and theatrically dips her down)
.v.
"What is this?" he asks with a frown. Darcy looks up from her textbook, exasperation on her face. Her page is stained with a luminous ink, her drink is cold. Loki hands her the advertisement. Her eyes twinkle at him.
"Christmas floral arrangements," she explains. "In the city, not everybody can make their own wreathes or swags, pointsettias and Christmas cacti are in every household, and mistletoe has gotten really inventive as the traditions have modernized."
He still does not understand.
"We used to hang mistletoe up high, on the ceiling and in doorways so you'd have to kiss somebody. Now this particular company is making mistletoe into decorative hair pieces or corsages to catch people off guard."
(she says nothing at the party of course but her smile is dangerous, and he can't tear his eyes away from her wrist)
.i.
Idly, he spins the plant in his hands. Oh Baldur, he thinks somewhat mournfully.
The door slides and a pair of feet step through, a hand offering a mug of spiced wine. A cautious smile, a folded blanket. Loki moves over on the bench and Darcy sits.
"You okay?" she asks.
"I am fine." he replies.
(darcy kisses his cheek, drapes the blanket over their shoulders and they watch the snow fall)
-fin
(happy christmas)