A/N: Woo, Hannah/Meg Christmas fluff! For present purposes, we’re all going to just assume this fic takes place at some vague point in the later seasons and that Meg and Hannah are an established couple at a cozy lil cabin where bad show writers can't hurt them. Cool? Cool.
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Hannah tilts her head to the side and frowns. “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Meg smirks and points up at some sort of small plant hanging from the doorframe over her head. “I’m waiting for my kiss.”
And despite the fact that Hannah’s currently bundled snugly in a blanket on the couch, a cold weight settles in the pit of her stomach; the thought of Meg kissing someone else is…displeasing. “From whom? And why?”
For several seconds, Meg just stares; eventually, she raises a brow. “Seriously? They didn’t teach you about mistletoe being a Christmas tradition up there in Sunday School?”
“I’ve never been to school on any day of the week,” replies Hannah, not seeing the relevance, “but if you mean, is it something I’m familiar with from Heaven, no. I’ve never heard of this particular…tradition.”
“Hmm.” Meg’s grinning at her in a way that feels both predatory and, somehow, enticing. “Well, Shimmers, today’s your lucky day: things are about to get educational.” She holds out her hands. “Come ’ere. Class is officially in session.”
Hannah sheds her blanket and rises from the couch, crossing to stand close enough for Meg to rest her hands loosely on Hannah’s hips. Out of habit, and because she knows Meg likes it, Hannah mirrors the gesture, grace thrumming pleasantly when Meg’s grin broadens at her touch. “Now what?”
“Now,” says Meg, glancing back up at the mistletoe before her gaze comes to rest hungrily on Hannah’s mouth, “we kiss.”
“For what purpose?”
“Fun ones,” says Meg sultrily; she leans in, nipping at Hannah’s lower lip. “Sexy ones.” Another nip. “Ones that’ll lead to me making you feel so good you blow out every bulb in this place, you get me?”
Hannah sucks in a surprised breath, her hands tightening reflexively around Meg’s hips. “Yes. I understand.”
“Good,” murmurs Meg. She raises a hand to cup Hannah’s cheek. “Now quit talking in class.”
She kisses Hannah then, warm, sure, and Hannah decides then and there that she approves of this particular tradition wholeheartedly.
