Anything But Red
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Summary: "It must be the dress; she really should have chosen anything but red." Office Christmas party. Drake, Wendy, and mistletoe. Joker's POV.
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Disclaimer: I don't own them, they don't like me.
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He wishes that she had chosen any colour but red.
It was the last one he would have expected her to choose – such a bold colour, and utterly unsuitable for someone as young and as self-conscious as she will probably be for a few years yet. Not to mention, it clashes utterly with her skin and the almost constantly present pink flush in her cheeks.
Red belongs to shameless, unblushing women. Red just screams look over here! Look at me! I'm special!
He has little use for a colour, or a woman, so utterly lacking in dignity.
And it seems to be taking just that effect, if the curious and surprised, admiring eyes of a few of the party-goers are any indication.
He could see her in nearly anything else.
Not black – altogether too common. Everyone wore black to these parties, and she had yet to realize that resembling everyone else had advantages. As yet, even her expression, nervous and hesitant, as she crept through the door into the quietly refined hubbub of the room in her silly red dress, stood out clearly. Even her eyes, wide and a little lost but sparkling happily, drew too much attention. Even her hair, pale and soft and fluffy and looking no less so in the oddly twisty knot she had tortured it into, seemed out-of-place.
A sweet pale pink would have been nice. Even for a Christmas party; everything about her is sweetly innocent and so relentlessly feminine that no amount of rich, deep reds and greens in the surrounding atmosphere could make her seem improperly dressed in a little pink frock with lots of lace and frills.
Green would have been fine. Or blue. Either, in a deep shade and soft, heavy velvet, would have been perfectly suitable for the occasion.
White would have been nearly perfect. Or a nice ivory. Something soft and lacy, and in pleasing contrast to slightly dusky skin.
But, the silly girl just had to wear red.
He watches her scan the room full of co-workers that she ordinarily chatters freely to without problem but just now is shrinking from a little shyly. Poor girl is probably looking for someone more familiar. He wonders briefly where her roommate is – the two seem to be the closest of friends, and he would have thought that the pretty brunette wouldn't be far.
And somewhere, the thought occurs to him that she perhaps she is trying very hard to capture someone's attention with her silly slinky red dress that certainly clings to that willowy little figure of hers beautifully, even if the colour is atrocious on her.
Whose attention she is trying to catch isn't difficult to figure out.
He sighs heavily as he sets down his drink and steels himself for the uncomfortable task of explaining to her sometime soon why exactly the sort of affection she clearly wants from him is impossible.
It won't be easy.
Just as he has begun putting together a gentle but very firm explanation, meticulously crafted towards the purpose of sparing her feelings if at all possible, he notices a little red streak shooting across the room.
He shakes his head and laughs a little bewilderedly as he watches the little blonde fidgeting nervously, the light reflected off her hair quivering slightly as she bounces from foot to foot and nearly loses her balance on the strappy sandals with their long, narrow heels that he suspects her curiously absent roommate talked her into.
His laughter trails off as a tall, solidly built man with a mass of choppy blond hair pulled severely back into a ponytail, looking more than a little uncomfortable with suits and ties and this entire thing, approaches her.
Ah. He was right, then, about the intent behind her bright, garish little frock, even if the intended target was mistaken.
He watches, unable to hold back a fond and very relieved smile, as she gestures to something hanging above them – a little bundle of mistletoe, naturally, tied up into a red velvety ribbon – and then looks up at the American expectantly, her smile just short of a grin.
The blond man looks as though he has reconciled himself quite happily to ties and suits and parties as he glances up at the sprig of mistletoe and then back down at his pretty companion with a hint of a smirk.
And although he is likely the only one who makes a point to do so, he looks politely away as his little assistant drags the startled man closer and kisses him as firmly and confidently as if she makes a habit of doing this.
He shakes his head and laughs again as the chuckles and polite clapping of a handful of his co-workers and employees reaches his ears.
It must be the dress; she really should have chosen any colour but red.
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End Notes: Okay, I really hope it's not annoying anyone that I posted two silly Christmas-fics, both featuring Wendy, in one day. They were both for different challenge communities, and I thought this one came out nicely too. And since I have a really hard time not posting things I'm proud of...well, I hope you liked it! Merry Christmas and all that!