A/N: Well this is insanely late, but I've never written anything having to do with Christmas, but I was reading some Destiel and read a mistletoe fic and got the urge to write something. I only wish I could have written this in December rather than February…guess I'll have to write a Valentine's day fic soon as well :)
Title: Definitely Not Boring
Pairing: Sherlock/Lestrade
Summary: Some holiday traditions are actually worth doing
Rating: PG-13
Standing beneath the kitchen archway in a lip lock with a certain Detective Inspector Lestrade, was not how Sherlock expected to spend his evening. Not by a long shot, and yet here he was with a pair of chapped lips pressed against his own, a work worn hand cupping his cheek, another resting at his waist, warm, reassuring.
And it's not like he's standing there frozen in place, well at first yes, while his brain processed what was happening; this new sensation. But then the most peculiar thing happened. Somewhere between gaging the pressure of those lips against his and the feel of a thumb lightly brushing across his cheek, he stopped thinking.
His brain stuttered to a stop, unable to keep up with cataloging each new sensation and he soon found himself responding in turn to those lips. He parted his lips slightly enjoying the feel of a tongue gently pushing in and the feel of teeth lightly nipping his bottom lip. Cataloging could wait, there would need to be several recreations of this moment until Sherlock was satisfied, in a completely scientific way of course.
This feeling was…pleasant; yes, definitely pleasant, and Sherlock felt the need to reciprocate and show just how pleasant.
Tilting his head to change the angle of the kiss, Sherlock raised a hand to the back of Lestrade's head, long fingers winding through a shock of grey hair, pulling him closer. His right hand moved to the front of Lestrade's button up, gripping the fabric like a lifeline, a needy whine passing through his lips when the hand at his waist tightens its hold hauling him even closer.
He's lost in this moment focusing on that mouth, moving against his, that tongue, doing sinful things he'd never quite thought the Inspector was capable of, those hands, warm fingers at his waist and threaded through his curls. The feel of lips moving against his, tongue flicking across his bottom lips teasingly, the taste of alcohol mixed with nicotine, that he's supposed to have long since abandoned, and the faint remnants of peppermint filling his mouth, and it's good. More than good, the taste is as close to perfect as Sherlock can pinpoint, and he just wants to be drawn further in, be completely and wholly consumed in this moment.
And if there's clapping and catcalls and the cry of "Finally" in the background, well then Sherlock is completely oblivious to it all. Right now the only thing he cares about is those lips and making sure they keep doing exactly what they're doing.
But even currently mind fogged geniuses need to breath, and it's with great reluctance that breaks the kiss placing a chaste kiss to those now reddened lips before pulling back gasping slightly.
Brown eyes lock onto him, pupils blown wide with desire, lashes fluttering ever so slightly in surprise as a smile stretches across Lestrade's face. Raising his hand from Sherlock's waist, he grips the detective's cheek, running his thumb softly over those kiss swollen lips, grin widening even more, because he's responsible for Sherlock's current flushed look.
Looking upwards Lestrade smirks softly at the dangling plant above them, never more thankful for holiday traditions.
"That was definitely not boring," Sherlock says finally now that he's got his voice back and his brain is firing on all cylinders, no longer stalled in a blissed out state of euphoria.
Lestrade laughs then, shifting his gaze from the hanging plant to rest his forehead against Sherlock's, as he winds his fingers through inky locks, lightly rubbing the base of Sherlock's neck. "I should hope not Sunshine," he whispers before closing the gap between them for another soft kiss.