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Alcohol might’ve gotten to him, a little bit.Ichigo brought his glass to his lips, only to be dismayed when he found it empty. He sighed.The glass was plucked out of his grasp."I think that's enough, Kurosaki." Ichigo didn't even have to look to recognize that voice among the hubbub of chatter at the party. He rolled his eyes instead, grumbling, slumping further back on the couch."I can't believe you're inebriated already." Inebriated? Ichigo mouthed. Where the hell did Ishida find these kinds of words?Anyway, fuck Ishida, he was absolutely not drunk.“I am not drunk. Fuck you.” To prove his point, he sat up straight and raised from his seat to stand up with little to no difficulty. Except for some wobbling.Ishida snorted. “Your entire motor coordination says otherwise. Can you even walk?”Ichigo flapped a hand at him dismissively and swayed to the direction of the bathroom. “Gotta piss, be right back.” He ignored Ishida’s mutterings about his crassness, had he been raised in a barn and not been taught about decorum as a child?After Ichigo finished his business, he washed his hands and exited the bathroom to find Ishida leaning on the wall by the mistletoe-adorned door. Ichigo joined him and crouched on the floor.They shared a comfortable silence that way, while Ichigo tried to hold back the headache he knew would come. From where they were, the din of the party was but a low hum that encircled nothing else except the two of them. It felt like they were the only ones left standing on earth.Ichigo glanced up at the man beside him, his eyes straying to the mistletoe for a moment, then back at the other man again. He looked away and an idea began to form in his mind unwittingly.“Hey, Ishida,” Ichigo said nonchalantly. At Ishida’s lack of response, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind without thinking. “Do you know that the Pagans used to consider mistletoe seeds as semen?”Ishida’s eyes that had been shut before opened to stare down at him, incredulous. If Ichigo had been any less intoxicated, he would’ve cringed himself. Alas, he was never the type to stop when he’d already started, even—especially—when drunk.With the wall’s assistance, Ichigo got to his feet and leaned—careened, more like—his shoulder against it to face Ishida. Ishida, who had his eyebrows raised in apprehension.“It seems I underestimated how drunk you were.”Ichigo rolled his eyes. Ignored him and continued. “It became a symbol of vitality and fertility in the Middle Ages, and was then inco—incorporated into Christmas celebrations throughout Europe and the rest of the world.”Ishida didn’t say anything; instead he pushed his glasses up, the lens glinting in challenge.Ichigo moved to stand in front of Ishida and supported himself with one hand on the wall next to Ishida’s shoulder. His other hand, meanwhile, reached for the mistletoe on the door and plucked a stem. He held the stalk up above them.He would realize, later, how brazen he’d been.But Ishida didn’t back down.Ichigo closed in on Ishida’s face, his eyes on Ishida’s lips. “And in Victorian England,” Ichigo murmured, “women who got caught under the mistletoe with a man must accept a kiss from the man, or bad luck would befall them.” He raised his gaze to Ishida’s eyes who met it daringly. Invitingly.“Do you want to be unlucky for the whole year, Ishida?”“I am not a woman, Kurosaki.”That was the last thing Ichigo registered before Ishida grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him in and attacked his mouth. With his own mouth.Ichigo grunted at the force of the kiss, his eyes closing inadvertently, and pressed forward, moving his lips in tandem against Ishida’s. He hissed as Ishida nipped at his bottom lip, and moaned when something—Ishida’s tongue—reached and licked the insides of his mouth.They carried on like that for a long while, their hands wandering on and mapping the other’s body, until the need for oxygen forced them to pull away from each other with a gasping breath. Ichigo thunked his forehead against Ishida’s, panting.Ishida opened his eyes and, seeing Ichigo’s disheveled state, smirked.“If you’d wanted to kiss me, Kurosaki, you could’ve just said so instead of making up excuses. And it’s not even mistletoe, you know?” He gestured at the decorated bathroom door. “It’s holly.”Does this guy ever shut up? Ichigo thought exasperatedly, before realizing that, no, it wouldn’t be Ishida if he did. He wouldn’t feel the urge to kiss him if he did.In lieu of answering, he decided to capture Ishida’s lips with his own once more.