Daichi isn’t sure how he ended up here but he’s pretty sure
it has something to do with a certain silver haired brat whose epitaph he’s
writing in his head because he’s under the mistletoe with this lanky bastard
who’s been giving him nothing but shit all night.
“It’s bad luck not to kiss, ya know,” he says through a
devilish grin that should be illegal with how much it makes Daichi’s stubborn
knees turn weak.
Not to be out done, Daichi yanks tall, dark and too handsome
down to his level by his tie–gratified by the look of shock coupled with the
very uncool squeak he lets loose at the unexpected move–and plants one on him,
murmuring as he pulls away, “Feeling lucky, punk?”