Author’s Notes – All characters and situations were dreamed up by me, GhostHelwig, and darthelwig. Absolutely NO taking without permission, please.

I took my pen name from a boy in this story. Just so you know.

Slight possibly-SPOILER-containing piece of info – Ghost can, among other things, read people’s minds, though he usually refrains from doing so. I thought I should point that out, in case the story didn’t make it perfectly clear...

Mistletoe Ménage â Trois

by Ghost Helwig

Mistletoe was a fine thing. Not that Flip had had much experience with it before, beyond Lightning planting a deliberately sloppy, deliberately wet kiss on him beneath it, as he bestowed on every straight man he knew every year. But this year was different.

Not that he’d expected it to be, but it was very, very different.

It started with Andrea. Hard to believe a girl could kiss like that with her husband practically glowering – and almost positively growling – at him, but she managed it easy enough. Afterwards he had to excuse himself to the bathroom, where he locked the door and ‘relieved’ the tension brought about by her scorching, overwhelming kiss...

He thought, when he’d cleaned up, made himself as ‘presentable’ as he ever could with his perpetually messy hair, and ‘discreetly’ exited the bathroom (all of which consisted of him flushing the sticky toilet paper full of evidence down the toilet, washing up, running a wet hand through his unruly mop of brown hair, and peeking out the bathroom door, secret-agent style, to make sure the hallway was clear before sneaking out while trying to appear nonchalant – not an easy feat, sneaking casually, but he thought he managed), that this would be the highlight of his day. When he lay in bed that night, the only image on his personal movie reel would consist of one pair of hot lips, big brown eyes, and hair that would not look out of place on a supermodel – not to mention the sleek body pressed up against his that would also not look out of place on a supermodel..

But then... well.

It seemed innocent enough, at first. Surely any conversation he’d ever had with Ghost was innocent, despite Andros’ (unfounded) suspicions. No one could accuse his friend of being a master of innuendo, which was about as detailed as flirting with Ghost ever got (had anyone but Andros been aware of how positively dirty Ghost’s mind and mouth could get, Flip would have known this for an untruth, but that particular gift was given to his husband alone) – not that Flip knew from personal experience, but he’d hung around Ghost when Tuck was around often enough to know.

Now there was a person to be suspicious of, in Flip’s knowledgeable opinion. Which was not what stayed floating in his mind for very long, but it was worth noting all the same.

What he ended up thinking was that Ghost should really not be kissing him that way. Because if the pure unadulterated sex that was Andrea’s kiss was forbidden for anyone besides her husband, the slow, sweet, sensual drawing out that was Ghost’s kiss surely must be even more forbidden.

Andros didn’t seem to think so. Later he would remember that while Ghost was kissing him, he could hear Andros laughing.

Proof positive that Andros was honest-to-God Weird. With a capital ‘W’.

When Ghost finally broke the kiss (it occurred to Flip later that he could have done so himself, but he couldn’t find much in him that regretted that he hadn’t), he had the – what? Audacity? Modesty? - to be blushing.

Flip thought he might be, too, but he was too busy babbling nonsensically to really tell.

So, another hasty exit made (thought this time without fear in his fleeing steps – though Wood’s open, threatening possessiveness had been creepy, for once a brush with Andros did not include feeling scared for his life, despite his ‘brush’ – that in no honest world could be called just a brush - with Ghost’s lips; Christmas truly was a day of miracles), and yet another quick trip to the bathroom. Where he could think freely of sweet lips, innocent eyes, and far too much silky blond hair for a self-respecting boy; one whose maleness was in no doubt, after being pressed so close to him today-

Was it healthy, to be doing this so often, and for such a reason as this...?

He was sixteen, he reasoned with himself – when he bothered to think it through at all, which was only for a second. Of course it was healthy. Or normal, at least.

As with earlier, it didn’t last quite long enough for him to spin some long, involved scenario. Before, he had simply remembered a kiss that devoured him, that swallowed him up whole and forced him to think of other ways he could be ‘swallowed’ - this time, he remembered a kiss that offered itself up to be devoured, one that pulled him in and sank him down...

He was a confident enough boy to admit, in the privacy of his own head, that he rather preferred the second.

Though as he cleaned up (again), and tried in vain to fix his hair (again), he was glad that it was a sentiment only voiced in privacy. Though the kiss had been given with Andros’ obvious consent, he was pretty sure that if word got out he’d actually liked it, his life would be forfeit.

Little did he know that, as he tried to explain to his amused father why he’d come out of the bathroom so flushed (turned out he was really no good at casual sneaking), two people were currently discussing his ‘solo pursuits’...

Well, one was discussing – or attempting to. The other was too busy laughing.

“I... um... I’m sure I was wrong. I was. He was just... um...”

“What?” More laughter, then, “was he thinking of you to make himself less aroused?”

”It could be!” When all that caused was an increase in the laughter of his companion, he frowned. “I never should have done it. Listening in like that-“

“Well, I offered to go in to find out-“

“Andros!”

Smiling, still-laughing lips captured his, and it was a full minute before Andros replied.

“Ghost, it’s like I told you. You’re sexy. ‘Course he got all turned on – who wouldn’t?”

Frowning blond brows pulled together in a look so serious, Andros wanted to laugh again. “Everybody.”

That thought bordered on the dark – it was what had started this whole mess, really, with Andros casually (teasing) ‘mentioning’ to Ghost the tent in Flip’s pants – both when Flip was there and after he’d ‘left’ (run away with his, ah, ‘tail’ between his legs) – and Ghost reacting with utter disbelief. From there, some quick wordplay and the final offer of looking in on Flip and outright asking him who he was thinking of while he ‘relieved’ himself (a prospect too horrifying, too mortifying, for Ghost to even contemplate), and it wasn’t too long before he’d pushed (conned) his too-sweet, too-easily-persuaded husband into breaking his own high code of honor and ethics to peek in on Flip’s mind as he monopolized the bathroom yet again.

It showed on Ghost’s face the instant he knew. A blush too dark to be anything other than supreme mortification, but for just an instant, a second, a moment – in his eyes, the light, strangely innocent touch of pleasure, of being flattered that anyone could see him in such a way. Sex might be ‘dirty’ to most, but somehow, Ghost’s simple desire to be sexy was almost pure...

Which made it all the more of a turn-on.

So he pulled Ghost to him, tired of talking about Flip’s sex when he and Ghost could be experiencing their own – if it also served to distract Ghost from his ever-looming depression, all the better.

That he knew it would (and, however quietly, acted on his own – what he called selfish - desires because of it), was just part of the reason Ghost loved him.

The rest of his reasons, well – after teasing Ghost so much, it couldn’t hurt to remind him of exactly what those were. Besides which, they were standing under mistletoe. And mistletoe was a very fine thing indeed.