A/N: Yes...I know I never finished "Drakgo in October!" and it's been two years. But I must force myself to write. Also there's whitem's holiday contest (check the forums for info) and I'm hoping that when this is done I can make it fit the bill. It might require some retroactive changes to posted chapters... Waiting to hear back if a mini one-shot collection can count.

Some of these might be headcanon, some not... No clue yet. Probably just random winter-y and holiday-themed shorts. Rating will remain T, no higher.

Starting a day late, but I'm gonna try to get one out each day of the month. The prompt list comes from downwithwritersblock on Tumblr if you want to see what's upcoming.

1. Red

November, 2005

Drakken noted how Shego's cheeks seemed tinged a brownish-orange as she threw her head back and laughed. At least, he thought that was their color; it was difficult to tell when her face kept fading into double and triple in his vision.

However, he was quickly brought back down to earth from the buzz of the alcohol they were sharing on the cold winter's night as her fingers slid up along his jaw until she was cupping his face. He held his breath...until she pinched his cheek and laughed again.

"Your face is purple," she said so forcefully it seemed to hurt her in the split second before she leaned against the back of the sofa and cackled. Drakken didn't know why it made him feel embarrassed, but he felt the sudden need to retort.

"Oh, yeah! Well yours is...is...burnt sienna!"

He knew his face was darkening further for embarrassment, but something about his words slowed Shego's laugh to a near halt.

"What?" she asked stumblingly as she leaned forward in curiosity, her sleepy gaze drifting between his cheeks and his eyes in question.

"Your... You," he said lamely. "The drinks... Instead of red, you... And I'm purple because I'm blue."

It was a horrible failure at explanation, and he wasn't surprised that Shego didn't get it. He didn't even get it, from that sad collection of words he'd strung together.

"What's burnt?" she asked, rising on her knees to move closer to him and nearly falling into his lap as she crawled across the sofa.

"Your color," Drakken said, feeling his skin warming over. "It's...oh, I'll just show you."

He finished the statement off with a small roll of his eyes as he grabbed the TV remote to flip it from the infomercial their program had rolled into late in the night, and tried to ignore the feel of Shego leaning heavily against him—due to intoxication, no doubt; no other reason—and found the public broadcasting channel with ease.

As he'd expected at the late hour, the TV screen was filled with a dark room save for a canvas on an easel, and a nondescript man excepting his large afro. He turned to Shego, readying his defense of her inevitable immediate mocking or protest, but was surprised to find her eyes had widened on the screen.

"And over here we might have a happy little tree..." the artist on the screen said softly.

Drakken stared at Shego's wide eyes in confusion. She seemed transfixed by the images of the main painting.

"Burnt sienna...is a shade of paint..." Drakken began, gesturing lightly at the screen. "And we don't blush red because of our skin colors, so..."

He trailed off as it seemed Shego wasn't listening to him at all, instead staring as trees appeared out of seemingly nothing on the wash of blue background. He watched her for several minutes as she barely blinked while onscreen a landscape with mountains and a forest began to take shape.

Unexpectedly, a massive yawn struck him, and he looked at his bottle before setting it aside and leaning back into the sofa. Even more unexpected was Shego's curling into him as she continued to stare at the TV screen, pinning his arm against the back of the sofa where she had lain back. After several confused moments, he finally moved his arm to be around her. The alternative would be less comfortable, and it would be possibly dangerous if he tried removing her from his person. She was just drunk, and he was tired. It was the easiest solution...

It didn't occur to him in his drowsy state that dealing with her curled against him when they sobered up might be worse. But he was soon lulled to sleep by the soft sounds of the television, warm at last on the freezing winter night. Though the alcohol wasn't burning his chest nearly as much as the heat he felt from having Shego at his side.