Okay.

Louis hated to admit it, but Noelle could be really fucking fun to hang out with.

“No, I’m serious,” she was insisting, leaning against the kitchen counter and visibly struggling to keep the phone steady through her laughter. “He—he literally did win more matches with them. But he was so defensive about it.”

“But—” Louis fought to keep his giggles at bay, tried to focus on the video and not Noelle’s anecdote. Both were losing battles. Noelle’s good mood was infectious, and the generous splash of Fischer’s Chocolate Melt in his hot chocolate wasn’t helping either of them. “But he started a fistfight?”

“At a convention! He literally practically did!”

“Why wouldn’t he just wear different headphones?”

Noelle wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. “No, no, they—they had better sound quality, Louis, you don’t get it, everyone’s gonna be using them, it’s not a femboy thing! It’s not a femboy thing!”

“Was anyone else wearing them?”

“Yeah, a guy in booty shorts that said ‘bottom text’ on the back.”

Louis clung to the oven handle as the laughter took him like a storm.

He’d had one mug and was starting his second. She was already on her third. She was really sweet when she was tipsy. Kind of a cuddly drunk, actually. Very quick to grab his hand when she was trying to explain something exciting, or to lean against him when vertigo took her.

Noelle also just loosened up so much in a one-on-one setting. He was starting to feel silly for all the paranoia earlier. He’d taken care to pour both their drinks, and he’d even waited to see Noelle start drinking before drinking himself.

“Oh my god,” Noelle managed, panting for breath, “how close are those cookies?”

He glanced at the oven timer behind her. “Six minutes.”

The first and second batches of almond cookies were already cooling on the counter, cut into the shapes of stars and cardinals.

“You wanna do another batch?” he asked. “Still maybe a couple of cookies’ worth in dough scraps. Or can I…”

“Nah.” She glanced at the scraps and giggled. “Go nuts. Enjoy the raw eggs.”

“And raw flour.” He scooped up the leftover bits of dough and carelessly popped them into his mouth, savoring the rich, sugary almond taste. He’d never had almond cookies before, but he definitely had to beg the recipe off Noelle later.

He washed the cookie dough down with a gulp of the hot chocolate. It was rich, thick and heavy, with a nice, boozey kick at the end mostly smoothed over by sweetness.

“No, but seriously,” Noelle said, her alcohol-sweetened voice pulling him out of his thoughts, “you’ve gotta put them on.” She held up the pair of headphones. “This next video seriously doesn’t work at all if you can’t hear, like, directional stuff.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I think I gotta… I gotta sit down.” He giggled. “I’m pretty, uh, this stuff’s pretty rich.”

“Yeah, I may have overdone them a li’l bit.” Noelle grinned, taking him by the hand and making her clumsy way back into the living room. “Sitting sounds… good.”

She led him over to the armchair before the fireplace and gestured for him to sit, beaming at him. He let her get away with it this time—he vaguely remembered not wanting to sit here earlier, but he’d been in a much… grumpier mood then. He sank in gratefully, allowing his head to finally stop twirling a little as it met the back of the chair. The chair was cozy and soft and warm.

He sipped at his hot chocolate. The flames danced before him, licked at the logs.

“Here, let me take that.” Noelle reached down and accepted the mug from him. He smiled in thanks. There was still hot chocolate in there, but it was probably for the best. This stuff was heavy.

His hostess turned and bounced away, humming happily. He giggled and enjoyed watching her go. Noelle was an adorable drunk. They seriously needed to hang out like this more often.

Louis stretched out in the armchair, enjoying the record player’s soft rendition of Santa Baby in the background. As his head tipped back mid-stretch and the ear rumbles briefly swallowed up the music, his eyelids fluttered open.

His cheeks heated up. Oh, right. That was why he’d tried to avoid this chair.

The mistletoe.

He quickly returned to his normal pose. He could hear the clicking of heels, and a moment later, Noelle came back into the room with a bright smile on her face.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling back at her. “I…”

“No problem!” Noelle handed him a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “Here you go!”

“Oh!” He stared at the mug in his hands, accepted without thought. “Thanks, but I wasn’t gonna…” She was leaning over him, giving him a full view of her chest, her breasts pushing out that tight red sweater. He let his eyes linger a little too long before he tore his eyes away. “... gonna—”

The chair suddenly got a bit warmer, and a lot softer, as Noelle plopped down in it right next to him. She gave him a coy smile and took a sip from her own mug. “Well, I’ll finish off yours when I’m done with mine, then. But it doesn’t look so good, does it? Getting a girl drunk while you stay stone-cold sober?” She winked.

He giggled sheepishly. “Hardly stone-cold.” He squirmed a little. “It’s… a little cramped.”

“I could get in your lap?” she teased.

The heat in his cheeks rose to a fire, and he knew from Noelle’s raised eyebrows that his blushing was not subtle. He started to reflexively raise the mug to his lips, then stopped himself. He seriously couldn’t take another drop. This stuff was heavy. All he’d eaten since he’d gotten here was liqueured up hot chocolate and raw cookie dough.

And, he primly reminded himself, as Noelle made herself comfortable next to him, he hadn’t seen her pour it this time. Hadn’t he meant to be careful? Hadn’t he been so insistent on pouring the drinks himself?

It all seemed a little silly now. Sure, Noelle was a little full of herself, but that was another word for confident, wasn’t it? And she was being so sweet to him.

Although sweetness could cover up other things.

He felt the softness of her hips pressing against him. Felt her hand brush against his and send goosebumps up his arm. Felt her cuddling up closer. Her chin rested against his shoulder.

“You... okay?” He barely managed to get the words above a squeak.

“Mm. Sorry.” She smiled dizzily up at him. “It's cold outside~”

Louis was burning up. His mouth was dry. He stared into her piercing green eyes, tried not to notice her half-parted ruby-red lips, how her full breasts were squishing around his arm... how her posture pulled her sweater up a little, showing off the inward pull of her waist, the swell of her heart-shaped hips...

A high-pitched beeping cut through the record player's distant recording of Let It Snow. They both jumped, and then Noelle laughed. “Oh my gosh, the cookies!” She sprang to her feet. “You just—”

Before she could tell him to stay put, he stood up, too. He wasn't letting her coze up to him like that again. He wasn't sure what he'd do, but it felt strangely... dangerous. He felt a little faint, standing up so abruptly. He’d definitely been sitting for too long.

“Come on,” Noelle sang, taking a deep drink of her own hot chocolate and skipping back to the kitchen. “Let's get some cookies!”

He smiled weakly. As they entered the kitchen, he remembered just in time to set his mug on the counter. Best to just remove that temptation entirely.

Steam rose as Noelle bent over—he averted his gaze, blushing—and pulled out a tray of fresh almond cookies. They'd positively melted, more like one big cookie than a whole tray of them. “All done!” she sang.

“Great!” He beamed, reaching as if to take the whole tray. “So, I'll take this cookie, and you…”

She giggled, setting the tray on a potholder and retrieving a spatula. “Hush, you. It's just a very liquidy dough, so it all kinda, you know, dissolves.” She cut out a square and put it on a napkin, then, as an afterthought, darted back to turn off the oven. “But it's so worth it. You have to try one already.”

“Yeah, I...” Louis hesitated as he noticed the oven’s clock for the first time. Oh, god, was it already that late? “I-I dunno, actually. I should probably be...”

He trailed off. One cookie wouldn't make or break anything. He was being paranoid again, letting Natalia's sleepy ramblings get to him. He accepted the cookie with a grateful smile. “Actually, sure. Just one, though. My stomach is not happy right now.”

“Well, you're the one who wanted to go walking around the place!” She giggled, moving in close. “I kinda liked you just sitting in that chair. You’re fun to… you know. Pamper.”

His breath caught. To cover his embarrassment, and give him time to think of a response, he practically shoved the cookie into his mouth.

Louis loved almonds. He sometimes brought a bag of almonds to the game and idly snacked on them while they were setting up. The promise of an ‘almond cookie’ had probably been at least half of why he’d been persuaded to stay to begin with. The crispness of the edges, coupled with the gooeyness of the center, was perfect. It was like a sugar cookie, but so much better, and so much more decadent.

The baking had drawn out another flavor, too, one he hadn't noticed in the cookie dough. He couldn't put his finger on it, and he wouldn't get the chance, because he'd already finished the cookie.

And Noelle was still waiting on a reply. Smiling up at him, batting her eyelashes.

“W-Well,” he managed, “it's, um... the chair's still there...”

“Yeah?” Noelle pressed in closer. She had him backed against the counter, he realized with a little thrill in his chest. Her eyes glimmered, lashes fluttering. “I mean, I guess I don't need an excuse to be close to you...”

His heart was pounding. Fuck. Fuck. What did he do? It seemed like such a bad idea to make out with Natalia's ex, but she was right here, and—and Natalia had said she was over it, and it wasn't his job to police his sexuality for Natalia's sake, and—

“... I can just move in like this,” she cooed, her thigh brushing between his legs, “and maybe I slip, maybe I fall into your arms, and my lips brush yours, baby...”

“I-Imagine that,” he whispered. His hand started to slip behind her, drawing nearer and nearer her pert, inviting bubble butt. That black pencil skirt showed off so much of her form. She wanted him to do it. He wanted to do it. Was it so bad? It was just him and Noelle. It was just so... easy to sink into the soft crackle of the music, the warmth of her thigh pressed against him, the brightness of her forest-green eyes...

The record player hit a scratch, and the discordant sound made both of them jump. Noelle looked around, then let out a panicked giggle. “Oh my g-gosh, that scared the shit out of me!”

Louis's heart was still pounding. His head was spinning. But one thought was suddenly ringing in his head at Noelle's slurred voice.

She was drunk. Noelle couldn't handle her alcohol like him. Not at all. He smiled guiltily, and before she could turn back around, quickly extricated himself from his pinned position. “Listen,” he said slowly, “I... I really should go.”

“Hm?” Noelle spun back around, blinking those big doe eyes up at him. “Wait, what's wrong?”

“You're... we've both had a lot.” Louis bit his lip. He hated doing this. “And especially you. I don't... I don't wanna do something we—something you regret later, okay?”

He hated rejecting people. It didn't come up often, but he hated it. It always felt cruel. But as much as she wanted it, and as he wanted it...

“And,” he added quickly, desperate for an extenuating circumstance, “I do need to be heading home. I promised I’d get home early tonight. But... but thank you for a really nice evening.” He smiled. “This was nice. We should, um, do it again sometime.”

Noelle bit her lip. She looked deep in thought—he could almost hear the steel trap of her mind clicking and clacking inside her head.

He turned and made his way to the door. His footsteps felt surprisingly heavy. Could Noelle sober up enough to drive him? No, that was stupid. He could walk if he had to.

“Louis, you’re not thinking clearly. You're not going to bike in this weather. It wouldn’t be safe.” Noelle’s tone brooked no argument. She suddenly sounded less like a clingy drunk and more like a mother scolding her child.

He took a deep breath. For some reason, that tone of voice flustered him even more than the thigh between his legs had. Probably because he just didn’t like being talked down to, right?

“I—well, you can't drive me like this, so...”

“Then maybe we should wait for me to sober up a little.” She took a step after him. “There’s no need to be so stubborn. You don't have to leave so soon, do you?”

He turned to face her as she advanced. “I don’t… know.”

“We could take a bit more time here, just... the two of us.” Her lashes fluttered low over those dark green eyes. “Hasn't it been nice, baby?”

She was moving in close again. Danger. Danger.

“I-It has been nice,” he stammered. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

“Mm. So very nice.” She giggled, smiling up at him. Fuck, she was so... gorgeous...

He licked his lips. “But I have to go. Sorry.” He turned and hurried to the door. He donned his hat, started putting on his scarf—

He felt her grab his hand. Her hand was warm, and soft, and smooth. This was not a girl who'd ever biked anywhere. This was not a girl who'd ever so much as picked up a rake, much less done any physical labor. She was smaller than him, softer than him, drunker than him. She was vulnerable. Weak. Insecure.

So why did he feel like he was the one being preyed on?

No. No, that was shitty. She was the one who was drunk, wasn't she? He'd only had a couple cups of hot chocolate, and a bit of cookie dough, and that couldn't possibly...

“Louis,” she said softly, “your hands are like ice! Come here.” She tugged on him. “Sit back down by the fire. Stay close. Warm up a little.”

“I.” His mouth was dry. He licked his lips. “I don't...”

She pouted those plump cherry lips and gazed up at him pleadingly. She was so... desperate for him to stay, so needy, so clingy. He knew how it felt to be lonely like that. It was the holidays, and she’d be spending the rest of the evening alone if he left. Maybe the next two weeks, since there wouldn’t be a game on New Year’s. She’d be alone, and so would he, if he said no to her.

And the way she looked at him, he wasn’t sure he even could say no to her right now.

About anything.

“I… my family,” he choked out. He took a step back, and his shoulderblades touched the wall. “I, I would, I swear, but they’ll be… waiting for me to get back, so…” He just needed an excuse. Any excuse. “I promised I’d be back early, and with the snow, they’ll be worrying about… me…”

But Noelle was already leading him back to the fire, he realized, totally ignoring his objections. His face went a little hotter. He couldn't just let Noelle push him around, could he? “Hey,” he managed, “I... look, I really… shouldn't.”

Can’t. Not shouldn’t. Won’t. Give her a clearer answer, you dumbass.

“Shh. Come on, don't worry about all that stupid stuff. Just focus on me for now.” She giggled tipsily, a hand reaching up and pressing down on his shoulder as they returned to the chair. “Aren't you cold? Isn’t it so nice and cozy here with me?” Her voice lowered to something soft and sultry. “Doesn’t it feel nice, just sitting back and watching the firelight?”

“Noelle, I don't—”

“Listen to that fireplace roar,” she purred.

The fireplace roared, spat, crackled, its rumble gentle and soft as static. Heat pulsed against him. It was freezing outside, and it was warm here. Would it be so bad to just maybe… get his coat and things a little warmed up first?

“I'd. I'd love to stay, Noelle. Really.” He bit his lip. “But my family will... and, I mean, Natalia might feel... also, I really shouldn't stay out so late, you know? Not in this weather.”

He met her eyes. They shimmered up at his, so pretty in the firelight. Her lips glistened as bright as maraschino cherries.

He licked his own.

“Well, that's okay.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “If you have to go, you have to go.”

Relief came coursing through him. He hated these kinds of confrontations. He didn’t want to hurt Noelle's feelings, he really didn't, especially not right now, not when she was tipsy and he was... well, anyways.

“But,” she added, smiling ruefully, “I did make way too much hot chocolate just for me, is my problem.”

He gave a sheepish smile back. “Sorry about that.”

“Mm-hm.” She played with a loose lock of bright red hair. “And since everyone else bailed on me, and I don’t want it all going to waste...” There it was. The guilt again. But her voice was so silken, so reasonable, as if she were only doing the logical math. “Why don't we give you just half a drink more.”

The invitation was so brazen. She hadn’t assented at all, she’d just redirected him completely. He opened his mouth to object, but couldn't think of what to say that wouldn’t start the argument up again…

Noelle beamed. “Good!!”

“Wait, I—” But she was already strutting away towards the record player, humming that catchy tune again.

Her ass bounced with every step. God, she was so… so…

Dangerous.