#innocent fluff

His first idea had been to carve them, but now he was not sure anymore whether it would be judicious to hand a knife to Mister Frodo and ask him to plunge it into anything; there had been enough stabbing and carving in their shared history and maybe, it would be better to leave all of this behind for good.

“Are you in conference with the pumpkins, my dear Sam?” 

As he whirled around, Sam saw the warm smile of the one he had followed to hell and back; there were still persistent signs of weakness in his movements and a wavering, lingering shadow dimming the radiance of a once so overwhelmingly bright smile, but Frodo looked relaxed and cheery on this bright autumn day.

“No, Mister Frodo,” he stammered, hiding the knife he had been twirling and twisting meditatively in his hands behind his back quickly.

“What is it you’re hiding from me?” Frodo strolled closer, blowing a stray lock of hair out of his face absent-mindedly as he looked upon the perfectly shaped vegetables on the worn kitchen table and waited for Sam to reveal the tremendous crime he had been about to commit if his guilty expression was any indication.

“T’is just,” Sam started softly, cleared his throat and then tried again, “I thought mayhap you wanted to carve something nice into the remaining pumpkins? We could put candles in them and place them on the porch so the nights don’t seem quite so dark?”

Colour rose into his cheeks that had regained their healthy glow and embonpoint when Frodo simply stared at him in wonder; it was so comfortingly like Sam to come up with a mundane task – borrowed and adapted from childhood days and their inherent bliss – and turn it into something quietly monumental. 

“Forget it,” Sam exclaimed hastily, “it was a dumb idea; of course, you wouldn’t want anything more to do with knives after...”

“No,” Frodo interrupted him kindly, “no, I would love that. Let’s carve something merry, no spiders, no rings, no deserts. Let’s celebrate the Shire and the strong light that guides us through our darkest days.”

For a time, they sat in companionable silence, absorbed in the calming effect the crafting had on their minds while their nimble fingers worked tirelessly; Frodo could but admire the careful precision with which Sam handled the pumpkins and, while he tried to reproduce the valley of Imladris on the bright orange canvas himself, he thought fondly of his uncle Bilbo and his marvellous drawings.

When Sam smiled and held his creation aloft, pride shining brightly from his tender eyes, Frodo was once again reminded of all the goodness and pure beauty they had saved.

It had all been worth it, he thought as a sense of peace, intermingled with a strange longing, washed over him; the candles had been lit and flickered rhythmically in the cool draft of the chill night air, and he was sitting – huddled in a blanket and Sam’s arms – on the porch looking out on a home he had much missed and yet had never truly returned to.

@fellowshipofthefics here's a LOTR one...

Lots of love from me; tell me if I completely missed the mark 🥹

-> Masterlist

Note: Ages are not mentioned in this fic, so feel free to imagine them however old makes you comfortable. It takes place at least one year after the events of season 1′s finale.

...

'You are cordially invited to the Christmas Gala hosted by Christophe Giacometti. Formal attire. Open bar.'

Yuri Plisetsky scoffs at the letter. It's on pastel green paper and decorated with so much glitter that it turns his hand into a Christmas ornament. He doesn't even celebrate Christmas, so it's not like he wants to go. Yuri rolls over on his bed, and pulls out his phone. No new messages. He opens up Instagram, and freezes.

There's a picture of the party invite on Yuuri's page, captioned: Guess who's going to the most awesome event of the year?

“The pig's going?” Yuri snorts. He should ignore it. As if he'd have any fun. Everyone would be drunk and totally ignore him. Wait a moment. Everyone would be drunk. Would Yuuri pull out his breakdancing and poledancing moves again?

…

Yuri straightens the collar of his blue suit as he enters the party hall. (Most people are dressed in festive colors, but this is the only suit Yuri brought, and he's not about to buy an expensive outfit for a holiday he doesn't even celebrate.) He fully expects to have a miserable night, but he's hoping he'll at least see Yuuri embarrass himself. That'll make it worth going.

He's got his phone handy, so he can snap all the embarrassing pics.

“Plisetsky, I didn't think you'd come,” Chris says in his overly seductive voice. Yuri wonders if that's how he naturally talks, or if he just likes flirting with everyone. He's wearing the most gaudy red suit Yuri has ever seen, sparkling even more than the invitations.

“I had nothing else to do,” Yuri says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Be sure to check out the back corner. We've got mistletoe.” Chris winks.

“What the hell is mistletoe?”

Chris gasps, but he wears an amused smile. “You don't know about mistletoe? Aw, you poor Russians are really missing out on some quality traditions. If you stand under the mistletoe with someone else, you two have to kiss.”

“That's stupid,” Yuri says.

“No, it's brilliant. Think about it. You could lure that cute redhead you train with over there, and you'd get to kiss her. She can't get angry because there's mistletoe. You see? Actually, I've got my own sneaky kiss planned.”

“I don't like Mila, and she won't care about a stupid mistletoe.” Yuri storms past Chris before he can tease him more. He has half a mind to turn around and go home, but he wants to see this mistletoe thing.

He gets the full show. Guang Hong and Leo are exchanging a quick kiss as Phichit takes pics, then Phichit jumps in the middle and gets a selfie of Guang Hong and Leo kissing his cheeks. They're all kissing each other and no one's batting an eye. It's still a weird tradition, but Yuri sees something else in it now...opportunity.

If you asked him why he wanted to kiss Yuuri Katsuki, he wouldn't be able to answer. He himself doesn't know for sure. But as soon as the idea enters his head, he can't let go of it. He wants to get that pig under the mistletoe no matter what!

But he's got to be patient. If he just drags Yuuri under the mistletoe, he'll know what's up. It's got to seem like an accident. Like he's totally mortified to be there with Yuuri, but it's tradition so they have to kiss, right?

It's still early in the night, so not a lot of people are drinking yet. Getting Yuuri drunk should be the first step. Yuri can “help” him to the bathroom and get “lost” under the mistletoe, and then he'll get his kiss. It's perfect.

Except Yuuri isn't drinking. At all. He's chatting with Phichit and Chris, clearly having a good time.

Yuri grits his teeth. That's it. He'll just have to bring a drink to him. He picks up a glass of champagne and heads toward Yuuri, but JJ blocks his way.

“How sweet. You got me a drink?” JJ pries the glass from Yuri's fingers. He downs it quickly, then drapes an arm around Yuri's shoulder. “I was thinking we should take a little walk.”

“I don't wanna,” Yuri complains, but allows himself to be led around. It's not like anyone else is talking to him. He thinks this is almost enjoyable. That is, until he realizes where JJ is leading them. “Hell no,” he says, pushing JJ away. He is not kissing JJ under the mistletoe.

“Aw, someone tipped you off to the legend of the mistletoe.” JJ looks disappointed, then pats Yuri's shoulder. “Be careful, young lady. Your lips won't be safe for long.”

“Don't call me young!”

JJ laughs. “That's the word that bother you? Fine, fine. Have a nice night, pretty lady.”

Yuri's cheeks redden. Fuming with anger, he storms toward the door to leave, but the cheers behind him halt his steps. They're coming from the mistletoe corner. He looks over and sees Yuuri and Chris locking lips. Yuuri. He was Chris's planned “sneaky kiss.”

Yuri's stomach swirls. He feels as if he's drunk, even though he hasn't had a drop of alcohol. Someone grabs his shoulders and turns him around.

“Hey, you okay?” It's Mila. She leads him over to a table and calls a waiter to bring him a glass of water.

Yuri sips on the water and stares at the table. He can't bring himself to look over at the mistletoe corner. This was a stupid idea. He should've just stayed home.

“You're nervous, aren't you?” Mila says.

“What? I'm not nervous.” Yuri runs a hand across his cheek. Is he that easy to read?

“That's the only reason I can see for you to drink yourself sick.”

Yuri looks down at the water. It's the only thing he's had to drink all night. But Mila doesn't know that. She assumes he's been drinking. And if he acts drunk, everyone will assume the same.

His spirits lift, and he stands up, making a show to wobble a little as he walks around the room.

“Oh my goodness, Yuri. Are you okay?”

Yuri turns around to see Yuuri Katsuki, the very person he's been looking for. Yuri points at him. “We don't need two Yuris at this party,” he says, slurring his words together a little. At least, he hopes it sounds slurred.

“You look like you're going to be sick,” Yuuri says, sounding genuinely concerned. He wraps an arm around Yuri's shoulders and leads him through the crowd.

“Where are we going?” Yuri asks.

“The bathroom.” Except the bathroom is in the opposite direction. No, Yuuri is leading him toward the mistletoe. Hell. Is he doing this on purpose? No, there's no way Yuuri actually wants to kiss him.

They reach the mistletoe, but Yuuri keeps moving. Yuri lurches forward and falls to the ground, forcing Yuuri to a halt. “Are you okay?” Yuuri hurries to help him up.

Yuri isn't okay. Not in the least. He's disappointed. Yuuri led him all the way to the mistletoe and he doesn't even want to kiss him.

“I'm surprised to see you crying,” Yuuri says.

“Screw you.” Yuri wipes at his eyes. “It's just dust or glitter or some crap like that.”

“Be honest with me. You're not having a good time, are you? It's okay. Parties aren't really my thing either.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see my friends before everyone goes back home.”

Yuri snorts. “You'll see them again soon enough. Don't you video chat with Phichit and the others?”

“Not just them. I wanted to see you too.”

Yuri can't stop himself. He kisses Yuuri. It's simple and sweet and sends waves of happiness rushing through him. All the discomfort and worry melts away in those seconds.

“It's Yuri on Yuuri!” someone shouts, and the moments snaps. Breaks. Explodes.

Yuri rips himself away from Yuuri, a fierce blush covering his entire face. “You idiot. How dare you kiss me under the mistletoe!” He shoves Yuuri, but not hard enough to knock him down. “Just because I'm drunk doesn't mean you can take advantage of me.”

That's right. Convince everyone you're drunk, then they'll all forget about it. “Did anyone dare take a picture? Delete it now!”

“Sorry, it's already got a hundred likes on Instagram,” Phichit says, rubbing the back of his head. He looks more amused than apologetic, though.

Then Chris appears out of nowhere. “Come on, Yuuri,” he purrs. “Let's kiss him together.” Yuuri and Chris kiss Yuri's cheeks while the camera lights flash. Frozen, mortified, and so embarrassed he could die, Yuri begs the seconds to pass by faster.

Chris pulls another handsome man under the mistletoe, and the show becomes about how many men Chris can kiss in an hour.

Yuri feels his hand being tugged, as Yuuri leads him out of the fray. The attention isn't on them anyone, so Yuri relaxes. Slightly. He's still red-faced from the kiss, and he can't shake the memory of Yuuri's lips.

The cold air shocks Yuri as they walk outside, and he huddles into himself. Stringed lights cover the building behind them, the music muffled from the Christmas gala. Yuuri leads him over to a bench, and they sit down.

Yuri can barely breathe. What does Yuuri think of him now? He might have convinced the audience that he didn't initiate the kiss, but Yuuri knows the truth.

“Here, eat this.” Yuuri holds out a rice ball wrapped in plastic. He smiles sheepishly. “I always bring a snack in case I get stressed out at a party.”

Yuri unwraps it with shaky fingers, and bites into it. It's cold and mushy, nothing special, but it does help ease his worries. “This reminds me of that time I gave you the katsudon pirozhki.”

“That's what I was thinking too. I know you didn't say anything then, but you did that to comfort me, right?” Yuuri's smile is sweet. He doesn't even wait for an answer—he knows it anyways—and asks another question. “Do you want to spend tomorrow together? My flight isn't until late, so I've got the whole day free.”

“You don't want to spend your last day here with Phichit or Christophe?” Yuri knows he's just inviting him out of pity, or as a way to cheer him up. Surely, he'd prefer the company of his best friend or the other man he managed to kiss under the mistletoe.

“I want to spend it with you,” Yuuri says. It sounds like a promise, and Yuri can't help but believe him.

Blushing, Yuri nods. “Fine, but you're buying me lunch.”

...