Chantilly Lace

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There was a thumping noise.

"Hey!"

No, a thumping hand.

"Oliiiiiiiii - "

On his shoulder.

" - ver. C'mon! It's morning."

With only one possible culprit. He turned over.

"Ah! There you are!"

"Enri, what..."

"What what?" Enrique wrinkled his nose, leaning back. "Euh, now you sound like Rob. What what, old chap, eh?"

Oliver stared at him.

"What?"

The Italian raised both eyebrows as far as they would go, and whistled.

"Wow, you're dopey. Come on. Up, up! It's late in the day already!"

"Enrique." Oliver sat up, tucking his hair behind his ears - Enrique promptly flicked it forward again - and looked at the nightstand clock. "It is not even nine yet." And then, as his brain began to catch up with events, "And Christmas Day, where on Earth would - when did you get here? Ohh." He carefully placed one hand over his eyes, and sunk back into the welcoming mass of pillows.

Enrique pulled him up by the shoulders. Took the hand away. He was grinning.

"Come on! I got here fifteen minutes ago and you were still snoozing away in your bed! I came to walk about Pairs with you in the sunshine, you know. It's the thing to do at Christmas. We can visit the Tour, the Louvre, the little Arc that you have here - "

"Enri. I live here, I see the Tour every single day and the Louvre is closed until Friday."

His friend's eyes promptly went huge with incredulity, and Oliver ducked as an emphatic hand shot past his head.

"So, we can go see the Arc, then! Where's your spirit? We should be leaping up to walk the city singing Joyeux Noel."

"Were you drinking on the plane?"

"No - ah, seasonal brandy. Excellent idea. We can get it later, now come on, up." So saying, the blonde hoicked the covers back, and Oliver found himself propelled into his dressing-room a moment later, having been hauled out of bed with no ceremony whatsoever. "Now get dressed," Enrique told him, all big freckles and dazzling teeth, "And put a hat on, it's cold in the street." He was standing in the doorway quite deliberately. Concluding that there was no alternative, Oliver rolled his eyes and headed for the wardrobe.

---

"Well! You're quicker getting dressed than my girls."

Pausing on the front doorstep to hear this remark, Oliver entertained thoughts of kicking Enrique in the shins. The thoughts entertained him back. Enrique remained oblivious, pulling a coat over his shoulders; Oliver eyed the item with concern.

"Enri, what is that?"

"Hm? Ah, bomber jacket." He fiddled with the sheepskin cuffs ostentatiously. "You like it?"
"It's red," the other complained.

"Like Saint Nick. Clever, huh? And warm."

Oliver - coated, booted and as a precaution hatted in fashionable pale grey - sighed.

"If you're impersonating Saint Nicholas, you should have at least brought me a present."

"I did!" Enrique jumped down to the bottom of the steps, and smirked back up at him from street-level. "I brought myself! I thought you would appreciate it." Oliver took care to step very precisely down and halt at his elbow, smiling slightly. It really was cold. Cold with patchy sunshine and slippery, icy pavements. The Arc would look fantastic, provided the sun was out when they got there. Enrique was still talking.

"Of course, we can go and get you something. I'll get you - yeah, one of those fancy scarves, the lacy ones. That'd be very you. Here!" Oliver had to pause again, because a chivalrous arm had just been flung at him. Complete with bomber jacket sleeve. He put his hands in his pockets, smiling.

"The shops are shut, Enri."

Enrique goggled at him, and the chivalrous arm left to wave in exasperation.

"So, let's go see the Arc, then!"

"Of course."

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NOTES:

- Christmassy, fluffy, EnriOli-ish goodwill OUTTA NOWHERE! Hah, take that.

- If anyone has seen feather-duster's writin' mojo - she needs it back. Please report any details of its most recent location.

- "Chantilly Lace" is an old song by the Big Bopper, and has nothing to do with this whatsoever. There ain't nothin' in the world like a big-eyed girl to make me act so funny, make me spend my money...
Nothing to do with it. See?

- The Tour and the Arc they're on about are the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe. Yay monuments. Oliver can live in Paris if he wants to, dammit.

- Enrique has not been drinking. He's just got Seasonal on the brain, the poor dear.

- This is also feather-duster's official Christmas present to BEGA - not writing a fic about them. Out of goodwill, mostly.

- If you happen to be not in favour of Christmas, replace all mentions of it with the name of the celebration of your choice.

- And in that spirit, happy celebration-of-your-choice, reader!

- Review and you're giving feather-duster the bestest present ever.