"Well, how 'bout it, Chell, love?" Wheatley grinned and gave the mistletoe that hung from the thin plastic rod that was attached to his headband a little flick, chuckling as it bounced. "I think you gotta give ol' Wheatley a kiss, now-"
He was silenced by a firm slap to the face, and the click of Chell's heels as she stomped away. Wheatley rubbed his cheek, groaning something about Chell and too much eggnog. That wasn't the first time he had been rejected tonight. He had had a drink thrown in his face by an indignant Mora, a weak swing taken at him by a stumbling drunk Mr. Johnson after a pass was made at Caroline, and even the cute little robotic engineer that had just started at Aperture this year- what was his name, Ethan?- had shyly slipped away the second Wheatley had looked the other direction. He was starting to think that this wasn't as good an idea as he thought it was when he had bought this silly little headband. With a sigh, he raised his plastic cup to his lips and took another sip of eggnog; maybe he should just stop now before he got a chair to the noggin.
And then he spotted a certain small, rose-eyed blond lazily drinking alone. Quickly taking another gulp of encouragement he set the cup down on the table next to him, straightened his light blue tie and took heavy, confident steps towards Craig.
He was seen before he had made it all the way to him, and Craig rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. Craig began to leave, but Wheatley stood in his way, leaning over him with a smirk as the mistletoe dangled ominously. "Hallo, love," he said sweetly.
Craig glared up at him, his plastic cup crinkling as his grip tightened. "Go. Away."
Wheatley held up a finger and pointed to his mistletoe. "Ah ah ah, I'm 'fraid I can't leave, not 'til you fulfill a certain tradition."
"Fact: Mistletoe is a parasite," Craig's eyes narrowed. "You and it have something in common."
Wheatley continued to loom over him. "Come on, love. Just a little smooch and I'll be on m'way, I promise-" he began to lean closer to Craig, and suddenly a firm hand on his shoulder pulled him back with a rough yank.
"What the-" Rick's eyes bore angry holes into Wheatley, but his lips were twisted in a sarcastic smile. Wheatley swallowed as he realized his mistake.
"Hey, Wheaters, how's th'party been fer' ya'?" Rick squeezed his shoulder tight enough for Wheatley to try and wiggle out of the grip with a small whimper of pain. As he began mumbling an apology centering around braveness brought on by the alcohol, Rick said between almost gritted teeth, "I see yer' lil' mistletoe thingy there hasn't really been a success?"
Wheatley quickly shook his head, trying to back away, but the grip on his shoulder was too strong. Rick reached up and snapped the plastic rod holding the mistletoe off his headband like it was nothing. "There, now ya' don't have t'have all that rejection muddlin' up your good time. Take a hike, Wheats." Rick gestured towards somewhere in the other direction, and with a small huff, Wheatley trudged in the direction of his other coworkers.
Craig flashed a slightly grateful look at Rick, and Rick smiled back. "Oh, wait," he said, reaching for the second cup of eggnog Rick had left to get for him in the first place. "Here ya' go, Peaches."
Craig took the cup from Rick and sipped at it. "Thanks," he mumbled.
"Ah, don't let 'im bother ya'," Rick gave the smaller man a little pat on the arm with his free hand. Craig made a small hum, and stared almost blankly at Rick's other hand, which held the little plastic rod with the mistletoe swinging from it. Rick glanced at where Craig was looking, and his mouth curled into a grin. He moved to hold it up over them, and shrugged with faux reluctance. "Well, it's tradition."
As Rick started to lean in, Craig reached up, grabbed his green tie by the knot and pulled him down for a forceful kiss. Wrapping an arm around the larger man's neck, Craig had to stand almost on his tip-toes to reach Rick's mouth. When they finally parted, both slightly out of breath, Rick stared amazed at his coworker.
"I'm just gonna..." Rick grabbed the empty cup that Craig had set down earlier, ignoring the second already full cup that Craig held. "Gonna get ya' some more of this stuff."
Craig laughed, face flushed from the alcohol as Rick walked towards the table that held the drinks. Rick almost didn't notice the slender young man that stood there almost awkwardly, alone.
"Ethan, what're ya' doin' over here by yerself?" Rick smiled warmly as he approached the table.
It took him a few moments to respond, but he eventually tore his gaze away from the door. "What? Oh, nothing," he mumbled, and returned to staring out the door with an interested but nervous look on his face.
"Exactly, nothin'!" Rick gave him a friendly nudge. "Why don't ya' go talk to someone?"
Ethan didn't answer, his fingers twitched as they rubbed against a piece of tupperware. Rick noticed out of the corner of his eye, and followed Ethan's gaze out the door. The janitor was outside the conference room where the office party was being held, emptying a waste bin that sat next to one of their desks out into a larger trash can that he pushed around. He was a large, burly man with fiery red hair; he barely spoke, and definitely was not friendly.
Still, Rick felt a little sympathy for the fellow, standing here lonely during a party, for God's sake. "Go talk to him."
Ethan looked over at Rick, his brow furrowed. "I have, but-" he stopped short, fingers curling against the lid of the tupperware. "You know what, I will again."
"Attaboy," Rick nodded and gave him a little slap on the shoulder.
Ethan began to take a step out the door, tupperware in hand, when he halted, whipped back around and pointed at the mistletoe Rick held in his hand. "Could I please use that for a moment?"
The corner of Rick's mouth twitched into a grin. "Sure," he said, handing it to him. Ethan took it and stuck it in his back pocket, just out of sight. With a deep inhale and slow exhale, Ethan took quick, almost large steps towards the janitor, who didn't notice him until he was right next to him. He looked over and nearly jumped, not expecting the company.
"The hell do you want?" he grumbled, bending over to place a now empty waste basket next to a desk.
Ethan suddenly felt his mouth go dry, the words he had practiced as he sat there and stared suddenly gone. He nervously fumbled for the plastic container and shyly presented it, as the janitor stood back up.
The janitor loomed over him. "What is this?" he growled, eyes narrowing.
"It's- It's, ah-" Ethan swallowed. "It's a small cake I baked for you."
The janitor almost glared at him for a moment, then took the tupperware and inspected it, one eyebrow raised.
"It's a vanilla cake with chocolate frosting. I- I thought you might like it," Ethan knew his name from his name tag, but hesitated to call him it. "Iain," he finally tacked onto the end.
Iain's jaw tensed and he dropped the container on his cart. "Don't call me that. You don't know me."
"I'd really like to," Ethan said quietly, lips curling into a little smile.
Iain, however, only sneered and took a threatening step towards the engineer. "Go. Away."
Ethan leaned backwards, hands finding someone's desk for balance. His breath had quickened and his heart pounded in his chest. As his face was flushed and he was beginning to sweat, he reached in his back pocket and pulled out the mistletoe. In an impulse, he held it up between them.
Iain pulled away slightly in a moment of confusion. "What-"
Ethan took a breath and quickly babbled something about tradition, following with a small peck on the janitor's cheek. It took a moment for Iain to register what the smaller man had just done, but as soon as he had, he grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shoved him violently onto the desk. Ethan gave a small cry of surprise, but nothing that could be heard over the loud Christmas music that came from the party.
Iain began to growl something, maybe a threat, but Ethan couldn't really hear over the rush of blood against his ear drums. He was almost trembling with excitement and luckily he wasn't standing or his weak knees would have buckled from under him.
Just as Iain leaned in slightly closer, just enough for Ethan to smell the mixed scent of cleaning agents he had acquired, there was a loud whoosh of a flushing toilet that became audible as the bathroom door just a couple of yards away opened and swung shut. Wheatley nearly tripped out of the bathroom, tucking his shirt back in his slacks and grumbling about the "bloody loo, always out of toilet paper".
Wheatley looked up at the pair, a dumb look striking his face.
"Oh..." he finally said, his glance shifting between the two. "Are- Are you two blokes...?"
Iain growled and released the engineer. Shooting a warning glance at the two of them, he hastily grabbed his cart and shoved it in the other direction towards the hall, almost like a guilty retreat.
Ethan picked himself up off the desk, his heart still refusing to beat evenly. Without making eye contact and keeping his head down, Ethan mumbled something about getting back to the party and he nearly ran back into the conference room.
Wheatley still stood there, staring at the desk. He started to walk in the direction of the party, but with a heaving sigh he shook his head. What was the use, anyway? Everyone hated him.
His mistletoe was on the ground, he noticed. Bending it over and picking it up with a grunt, he inspected it. Giving it a little twirl, he stuffed it back into his pocket dejectedly.
He laid eyes on the door to the staircase, and with a shrug he walked towards it, hunched. Just as he pushed the mostly unused door open, he caught two figures holding hands entering the bathroom out of the corner of his eye; a flash of white-blond hair and a green tie.
Oh. Rick and Craig.
With a disgusted noise he drudged up the stairs, the metal clang growing slightly louder with each step. Finally, he reached the top floor; which was actually the surface. The only person left up on this floor was the security guard, and he was snoring away at his desk. Wheatley passed by, quickly exiting the building and taking in a breath of cold night air, somehow fresher and cleaner, less disturbed than day time air. There was only a sliver of a moon, and with how far outside city limits Aperture was, there seemed to be an explosion of stars across a deep, black sky. Wheatley shook his head and pushed some blond hair aside. It was hard to see in this darkness, and finding his car would be impossible. He pulled out the small flashlight he kept on his keychain and fumbled for the right button. The first couple of feet in front of him was illuminated as he pushed it; not much, but enough to navigate around the parking lot.
Wheatley huffed and muttered something about parking spaces, shining the light around at different cars. No... no... An American car? Yeah right... no... no...
And then his light shined on something that moved.
With a shriek, Wheatley jumped backwards, stumbling against another car and tumbling to the pavement with a grunt.
"Hey, hey, mister? Hey, mister?" the shape in the darkness moved slightly, changing position. "Hey, mister?"
"What?" Wheatley cried, pulling himself back up to his feet by gripping the car he stumbled against. He dusted off his jacket and shined his flashlight on the outline, which flinched and shielded its eyes against the blinding light.
"Neil? What're you doing out here?" Wheatley asked the young man sitting on the hood of his car.
"Wheatley?" Neil peeked between his fingers. "I'm looking at space, of course."
Wheatley huffed. "Mate, it must be twenty degrees Fahrenheit out here."
Neil waved his hand, motioning for him to turn the light off. Wheatley reluctantly put it back in his pocket; his eyes strained to adjust to the darkness.
"Looking at the stars," Neil explained. "I study them, but it feels like I never really get to see them, yeah?"
Wheatley's eyes began to adjust to the low light, and he could make out the small amount of moon and starlight that highlighted the features of Neil's face. "But it's freezing out here!" he rubbed at his biceps, emphasizing his point. "Why aren't you at the party?"
Neil shrugged. "Not much of party person," he leaned back onto the windshield of his car, folding his hands and placed them neatly on his stomach. "Space is more fun."
Wheatley raised his eyebrows, but nodded slowly in polite agreement.
Neil looked over at him, curly blond hair splayed over his windshield, and smiled. He patted the space on the hood next to him.
"Oh, what, me?" Wheatley shook his head and held his hands up in protest. "No, no, I better be getting home..."
Neil patted the spot next to him again, firmer this time.
"There's really not enough room..."
Neil scooted over to the edge of the car, then smiled again at the lanky man and patted the now bigger space next to him.
Wheatley began to protest, and sighed. What was he in a rush for, anyway?
He crawled onto the hood of Neil's car with a groan and quickly stretched out in the same position as Neil. Giving a little kick of his legs, which hung off the edge of the car, Wheatley took a breath and relaxed. The spot was still warm from where Neil had been. They sat there in silence a moment, staring at the sky.
This is boooring, Wheatley thought. He scanned his eyes over the specks of light, and his mouth twisted into a frown. He twisted and reached into his pocket for his keys again, and something rough scraped against his knuckles. His fingers twisted around it and he pulled the object out. Oh. It was just that dumb mistletoe. Wheatley held it up and spun it around a little, twisting it around the broken plastic rod in circles.
"What's that?"
Wheatley looked over at Neil, who stared at him curiously. "What, this?" Wheatley's lip twitched and he gave it a little flick. "S'nothing, mate. Just mistletoe." He looked back up at the sky with a breath, trying to figure out maybe where the Orion constellation was, which was pretty much the only one he knew, really-
The sudden warmth of lips pressed to his cheek startled him, and Wheatley almost flinched away at the sharp contrast between the small breath on his cheek and his ice cold skin. It was over as soon as it began and Wheatley lifted himself up on his elbows, gaping at Neil, who simply shrugged and said, "Tradition."
Blinking in confusion for a moment longer, Wheatley finally gave up trying to work out any underlying meaning of the kiss, and accepted it for what it was. He relaxed again, his muscles going limp and he turned his gaze towards the blanket of stars over them.
"Thanks, mate," Wheatley mumbled. "Merry Christmas."
Neil gave an almost giddy giggle. "Merry Spacemas."
They sat there in silence, listening to the faint sounds of the cars passing in the distance and the slow, steady sounds of each other's breathing.