Snow was the only silent thing to fall around Mr. Scully's apartment, chiefly from the second floor. That could only mean thing on the evening of December 24th; the Chang-agrandes holiday party was now in full swing for the fourth year in a row.
Prior to both families occupying the same apartment space and getting along famously with food and laughter, the Casagrandes had to ensure that the dual-family tradition would go off without a hitch. It was their turn to be the hosts this year and with fourteen pairs of hands on deck, working since the crack of the early Christmas Eve dawn, they were done with adorning their walls with light-woven garlands, setting the table with enough food to feed five armies (or the rough equivalence of three CJs), and erecting a Christmas tree big, beautiful, and bright enough for Sergio to make it his nesting ground for the evening.
Provided that a certain chancala-wielding abuela wasn't around to catch him and swiftly put him in his place.
Like with most traditions, patterns were easy to fall into—even in such a large extended "familía" like the Chang-agrandes, everyone had their respective inner circles to comfortably latch onto to talk the night away. Although there were a few exceptions to the rule, such as Becca Chang having the most intimate one-on-one with Carlota she could remember (all in the name of getting fashion advice) or Sid being surprised at CJ's remarkable quick learning of the latest K-pop dance moves, most were comfortable were staying in their lanes.
Including Carl Casgarande, probably the least likely of his family to stay in his lane for just about anything. But not for his best friend, Adelaide. Standing around at the end of the dining room where they were mostly alone (Lalo was snoozing comfortably in the kitchen just twenty feet away), the two children were, once again, at opposite ends of a discussion of potential mischief and misadventure.
"Carl, you can't be serious," Adelaide said, flashing her friend a deadpan glare. "We can't just sneak out of here to see what gifts I have under my tree. We'll get caught."
Carl smirked and swiped at the air with a flick of his hand. "Oh, sure we can. And then we'll do the same thing with my presents. It's just a simple two-step plan to-"
"To getting grounded on Christmas? No thanks. Hard pass."
Carl pressed forward an inch closer, as if he was a crafty snake that could bewitch with but a good look at his hypnotic eyes. "Oh, c'mon, Adelaide. I know you wanna see what Santa got yoooooou."
Adelaide lifted an eyebrow, and Carl knew why—even though he was two years older, he should've known by now not to underestimate Adelaide's maturity.
"Okay, what your parents got you," he amended. "The point is that you can totally trust me to get the job done."
His assurance only got her to reach an impasse, seeing as she was humming thoughtfully while stroking her chin. The deadlock didn't last long as Adelaide suddenly looked down at the frog-sized lump in the middle of her chest.
"What'd you think, Froggy II?" she asked.
That was his cue to pop his head out from under her shirt and give her owner a shake of the head. Adelaide nodded understandingly. "That's what I thought. It's 2 against 1, Carl. Sorry."
Carl folded his arms and stared his frog/"son" down. "Traitor. I change your diapers and this is how you repay me?"
Adelaide laughed as her frog stuck his tongue out in defiance (nearly striking Carl in the eye), and hopping away to do heaven knows what.
Just then, a huge "Oooooooh!" broke out and Carl could swear that it was loud enough to wake the dead. School culture had taught him that "Oooooooh!" equaled someone getting in trouble or getting caught in an embarrassing situation and with his schadenfreude streak as genetic as the swirls in his hair, he was compelled to scan the area and get it on watching the spectacle.
He wasn't prepared, however, to be the center of attention of cheeky grins and amused expressions. Everywhere he looked, both Chang and Casagrande alike were putting him on the spot, as if they knew something he didn't.
Something worth keeping to themselves as they watched the poor boy try to get a grasp on what was happening.
He sank back, feeling an overwhelming grith of self-consciousness swirl around his gut like twister. Palms became sweaty and his heart thumped against his chest like a battering ram.
Without turning his head at his friend, Carl half-whispered, "Uhhhh...Adelaide? Why's everyone looking at us and smiling like that? It's...kinda creepy."
He heard a nervous gulp, and wondered if that was him. He looked to Adelaide for answers and got more than he bargained for. She was trembling and her face was glowing redder than the lights that bristled around the Christmas tree.
"T-that's why," she squeaked.
It was then that Carl realized that she had been pointing up. He followed her finger towards the ceiling...
...and found the culprit of her embarrassment flapping his wings over their heads. A thin twig of...m-mistletoe(?!) was clutched in his sharp talons.
"Sergio!" Carl shouted, his face now blooming with pink.
Sergio just shrugged. "What? I'll do anything for five pounds of birdseed. You know I have no standards."
Carl scanned the crowd again, weaving past their smiles until he locked eyes with someone who looked way more delighted than the rest to see him in this state. Ronnie Anne could barely contain herself, sniggering in her hand as tears started spilling from her eyes.
"Ronnie Anne, how could you?! I'm supposed to be your favorite primo!"
The accused girl broke through her laughter. "D-don't look at me! I'm innocent, I swear!"
Her best friend and lifetime accomplice was at her side, doubling over with a heart fit of chuckles. "It was totally her!"
"Now, mijo," Abuela chided warmly, "you know the rules. We Casagrandes are a family of honor. You must follow through with it."
Next to her was emotional daughter-in-law, armed with a camera but not with any tissues to keep her waterworks at bay. "M-my little boy's becoming a m-man before my very ey-hahaha-yyyyes!"
Stanley Chang didn't fare much better, leaning on his wife as he gleefully teared up. "I'm so glad we moved here."
Soon, the entire living room was animated with liveliness anew, everyone weighing in their own opinion on what they thought of the imminent kiss about to take place. For Carl, it was just a matter of staying afloat, keeping his head above water as he tried to come up with a plan, anything to get him out of this mess. All he had to do was keep his cool, remain calm, and not freak ou-
"A-Adelaide, help me out here!" he whispered harshly, sweat pouring down his reddened face.
It was too no avail. No answer.
"Adelaide!" he nearly screamed, wondering why he wasn't getting any feedback.
Didn't she see how weird this was gonna be?! Kissing your friend in front of other people, even among friends and family, was the last thing he wanted to do and he was pretty sure she felt the same way.
So why the heck wasn't she saying anything?!
He discovered, upon facing her for another desperate plea for guidance, that...that...
"Adelaide..." he breathed out, soft enough to be a sigh.
His hearing dulled—his ears blocking out everything but his trembling heart—and his vision sharpened, his eyes absorbing something that he couldn't fit in a nice and neat description. Adelaide's face was almost completely flushed, and the contrast that the delicate pink made against her snowy skin reminded him of light strawberry frosting covering a spongy white cake.
Her eyelashes were suddenly longer, delicately tipping her big, brown eyes as they seemed to swirl like muddy earth. Even as they stared at her foot as it awkward shuffled behind her other one, he couldn't remember finding eyes to be so...mesmerizing.
He casually roamed her face again in his trance and the weight of her shy grin, big enough to bump up the hills of soft, silky cheeks, kicked him in the gut hard enough to nearly floor him. His fingers twitched, and he swallowed thickly as he understood that for just a brief second, he wondered what it would feel like to cup his palms around her face.
"Maybe...m-maybe we should just..." Adelaide stuttered, looking up, "...y'know, g-get it out of the w-way, Carl."
Was she speaking for him or for herself? He couldn't see any other option other than those, but either one presented a truth that revealed something that now—in the heat of the moment—Carl was slowly obliging to; at least one of them was fine with a kiss taking place.
His hands spasmed again, but he knew what to do with them. They lifted to Adelaide's face and it was then that Carl's chest felt like it might combust—he remembered to breath again, and the self-inflicted tension melted.
The tips of his fingers nearly melded against her hot face, and Adelaide let out a gasp as they briefly skimmed her cheeks. One hand pressed softly against the side of her face while the other cradled the back of her head.
A low hum shuddered through his body, mental preparation for the six inch trek just ahead. He leaned down, his warm breath passing through the cool air around them until it suddenly became just as warm as his—now their breaths were passing through each other's mouths, their nose tips touching and their trembling lips almost brushing. She smelled sweeter than he could remember, her fresh scent sweeping through his nose and tingling his skin.
He had one last chance to bail before the big plunge, but as he found the lucid pool of her eyes reflecting his eagerness, he realized, now more than ever, that he didn't want to.
He finally closed the breadth of distance into something new and exciting, and the second he made contact with her, warm electricity skimmed through his pressed lips. She was stiff, at first, but then she pushed back. He felt her hands clutch the lapels of his shirt collar. A burst of passion made him dip her backwards, leaning over her as their kiss deepened.
What was once supposed to be an awkward encounter that was supposed to last for a second at best wound up ending close to ten. Carl had to tear his soul from his body to keep himself from getting trapped in such a state forever—he finally pulled back, breathing heavily to regain his composure. Adelaide's eyes slowly fluttered open, and the unspoken mirth behind her dazed grin almost made Carl want to go back for another kiss.
That was, until he was plunged back in the real world and to their cheering families. Suddenly, he was Carl Casagrande again, a reluctant participant of a mistletoe prank gone horribly wrong. He looked down at Adelaide and grinned sheepishly.
"Uh...s-sorry about, uh...I-I mean..."
Adelaide giggled nervously. "It's o-okay."
He dipped her back up and let her go, smiling bashfully and rubbing the back of his head at the sight of the mixed torrent of euphoric unity and applauses. Adelaide did the same, and he wondered if she was willing to file this under the "Never to be spoken if ever again" file cabinet that most of his backfire schemes wound up.
He knew for certain, though, that he couldn't think of a better first kiss if he tried.