original summary:

Mistletoe signifies many things when it comes to winter holidays, but all Hamid is really using it for is a bit of decoration. There's some of it hanging in every doorway, and he's happily greeted everyone who showed up to the spontaneous party with a kiss on the cheek before ushering them inside, out of the cold.

It’s December 8th, and Hamid’s flat is decked out with festive decorations. There’s an array of chocolate coins on the dining room table, mistletoe hung just about everywhere, and a small tree in the living room, not to mention the terrible sweaters scattered about the people drinking and laughing around the apartment. (Zolf’s is blue with a white, fully lit menorah on it labelled “let’s get lit” in the same yellow as the candle lights. Grizzop has eschewed the typical holiday cheer for a grey tank top that reads “the queer, pagan relative grandma warned you about” in bold, block letters. Wilde’s suit is green, red, and a massive eyesore that he’s pulling off remarkably well. Hamid is tired.)

Zolf and Hamid are chatting in the den, if a conversation consisting almost entirely of ‘you’re one of my dearest friends and I love you very much but that is the worst Hanukkah sweater I’ve ever seen please take it off’ can be considered chatting. (The sweater was a gift from Sasha, and also, Zolf isn’t wearing a shirt under it, so Hamid’s going to have to suffer.) Azu is distractedly trying to find a Christmas romance movie that isn’t entirely populated by white people in green-or-red jumpers (and failing) while Sasha asks about holiday traditions in Kenya from her place on the sofa’s arm.

Grizzop is sitting on the counter, one knee drawn up to his chest and his other leg kicking lazily back at the cabinet below him. Ed, stood in the doorway, is smiling serenely at the only other pagan at the party and listening very intently to what he’s saying, nevermind the fact that he’s not understanding any of it. A label reading ‘Oscar if you touch this I will set your wardrobe on fire’ flutters to the ground and Wilde, who doesn’t know what that note was on and therefore doesn’t know what he’s not supposed to touch, calmly sets about stealing the rest of Hamid’s brandy. Before he can drink any of it, (before he’s had the opportunity to drink anything at all) Grizzop decides to venture out into the den to show Hamid a worse Hanukkah sweater that he found on google, and is stopped under the doorway by Ed. “Why’s there a plant here?” Ed asks, pointing at the mistletoe above them. Grizzop freezes. Looks up. It’s definitely mistletoe, but he can’t see any of the white berries on it, which he supposes doesn’t really matter.

Wilde leans on the fridge, delighted as anything. “It’s decoration, Eddie, you’re supposed to kiss under it.”

Grizzop’s mental cogs turn in an order that they really shouldn’t be turning in. Ed is about to explain that he’s alright with kissing, he supposes, but only in the platonic sense, because he really doesn’t like anyone in ways other than platonic, but the goblin interrupts his train of thought by pointing at the plant and demanding, “Gimme that.” Ed obliges, and Grizzop pops the whole sprig in his mouth and chews. Wilde makes a distressed noise of shock. Grizzop swallows. “You wanna kiss me? You can get poisoned too,” he explains, vindictive and spiteful as anything.

Ed cocks his head, confused at the notion of wanting to kiss someone with such sharp teeth on the mouth. “I don’t want to kiss you,” he says mildly, and then the word ‘poisoned’ sinks in and he frowns. “Are they bad plants?” Zolf is attempting not to laugh and failing miserably, a horrified sort of giggle making it out into the shocked quiet of the apartment. Hamid is also horrified, but significantly less giggly, staring at Grizzop with open confusion.

“Very much so,” Wilde hisses, scooping the now-poisoned goblin up under the arms, despite the rather loud screeching protests. “Especially on the smaller races, so I guess we’re going to the ER, now—”

“So I shouldn’t have eaten all the little white berries on the rest of them?” Ed clarifies.

Zolf laughs harder. Hamid makes a noise, not unlike a whimper. Sasha looks around from her perch on the sofa’s arm and confirms to herself that, yes, all of the mistletoe hanging around is completely berry-free, except for the tiny bit she has in her pocket in case she wants to poison someone’s food.

Grizzop scrabbles for a moment until he’s held more comfortably against Wilde’s chest, and then he turns to give Ed a scathing glare. “No, you shouldn’t have! The berries are poisonous too – how do you not know this?” Grizzop demands. He’s forgotten (or possibly just doesn’t care) that not everyone who worships a Greek god or two knows how to tell what plants are and are not poisonous the way he does. Mostly because he forgets how different Artemis and Apollo are until Ed rather forcibly reminds him.

Wilde sighs heavily, shifts Grizzop so that he’s tucked up against one shoulder, and then grabs Ed by the wrist. “I’m going to the ER,” he announces to the room at large, already walking to the door and shoving that sprig into his pocket before any of them cross the threshold so that Grizzop doesn’t poison himself further, “we’ll try not to be long.”

Grizzop reaches over and grabs the keys for Wilde, because he may be proud and rather protective of his car, but he’s not arrogant enough to think he can drive himself without issue. The door shuts behind them. Hamid, who has long since emptied his wine glass, lets out another drained noise that sounds more than a little pathetic. Zolf manages to stifle his laughter to ask, “You want another glass?” Hamid doesn’t answer, just sticks his hand out for the bottle of wine Zolf’s holding. Zolf hands it to him, and the second he turns his back to find a wine glass, Hamid pops the cork with his thumb and swigs straight from the bottle, not stopping until it’s empty.

(Sasha, who can be trusted with the mistletoe, shows it proudly to Azu. Azu takes it from her and starts taking down the rest of them, too. Sasha pouts.)

notes:

this fic was originally posted to my since-obliterated AO3 account on July 29th, 2019, for the Rusty Quill Gaming Podcast fandom and also a since-forgotten friend's birthday. I say "since-forgotten" because the original dedication doesn't link anywhere and only refers to them as "fridge baby" and I have no idea WHAT the fuck that means. good times, 2019. don't listen to the rusty quill gaming podcast.