Based on a prompt by UnaDiNoiWinx, from 2015: Your Winx OTP Under the Mistletoe.

Mingling with the mundane mortals little thrilled three of the Wizards of the Black Circle, but Anagan had insisted on attending this particular mortal's Yuletide celebration because he endeared on her so much.

"He slept with her three times," grumbled Duman, bundled in his favourite winter trench coat. His chilled hands clamped tightly around his mug of wassail. The petite creature still trembled from his brief encounter with the snow that evening.

"Just be quiet, and let Anagan do all the talking," ordered Ogron.

Duman would keep his snarky tongue under control, but he refused to mingle with these people, many of whom had indulged in fermented and inhibitions-crushing beverages. He nestled near an archway, out of the way of most of the party-goers. He gazed at the back of Gantlos's hat as he waded through the crowd with Ogron and Anagan. At least if he had joined him, he and Gantlos could whisper snide comments to one another to pass the time. About the only thing that could make Gantlos smile - no easy feat - was Duman's sarcasm, and that instilled a sense of honour and privilege in him.

After ten minutes of boredom and two minutes of some alcoholed-up bloke's failed attempt to flirt with Duman, the wizard was about to vanish from sight. Now that would have caused some excitement for the morta—

"What are you doing?"

Duman lifted his head. What the Devil was Anagan doing to Gantlos?

"Lookie, lookie!" said Anagan as he pointed to the top of the archway, slinking away mischievously.

So what? thought Duman. It was nothing special: trimmed with pine tinsel on each side and in the centre hung mistletoe—

Tanrı bana yardım…

Duman flushed. He liked Gantlos. He liked Gantlos plenty, but he just couldn't see himself kissing him. The man was like a big brother to him—okay, maybe, yeah, at one time he had thought he was a handsome stag, when the Circle first invited him, and at that time he was a young, impulsive teenager, and honestly who wouldn't butcomeonitwasdifferentnow—

"Erm… You know, mistletoe had never meant to kill Baldr."

"I… I beg yer pardon?"

Leaning next to Duman, whom scrunched his shoulders and leaned away, Gantlos continued:

"No more than Hödr meant to shoot him with it. Mistletoe was much too young to take an oath to not hurt Baldr, and so, Loki used the young plant and tricked Baldr's blind, naïve brother to murder the beloved god. My father told me that of all the gods and all the animals and plants that grieved, Hödr and Mistletoe wept the hardest. Mistletoe vowed that when it was grown, it would carry on the message of love and light that Baldr had given to the world."

Duman smiled one-sidedly. That seemed a rather random tale to tell, but hearing Gantlos speak was a pleasant distraction, especially since he was so economical with his wor—

If he had not tightened his grip on the mug just as Gantlos' lips touched his forehead, they would have both been covered in wassail.

"Happy Yuletide," said the older wizard.

Every trace of the cold from outside had been melted away, and so too vanished Duman's dreary spirit. Smiling softly, he nestled against him and replied, "Happy Yuletide."