Junksen: stuck under the mistletoe at a party neither wanted to go to. Please and thank you, beautiful!
A/N: Sure thing Cutie!
Emily Junk had always hated fruitcake. It always seemed like the staple dish of the holidays, sung in songs and displayed in its glittery nature throughout the cartoons of her childhood. She had gladly taken a slice with a smile when it was offered up on a plate with a little snowman on it.
It’s icing dripped and clouded, the scent a mix between fruit and ginger. To the human eye, it looked amazing, but it was weighty and the second Emily bit down on the plastic form that carried a good portion of cake, her stomach lurched.
Turns out, Fruitcake tastes like hamster food smells.
Emily’s eyes scanned the work party that she had been forced into. This was all Karen from IT’s doing. She was proud of the old family recipe and everyone knew that Emily couldn’t really refuse anything offered up to her- it wasn’t in her nature. Not even when she and one other assistant were conned into licking 300 envelopes containing Christmas cards.
Her tongue was still sore, and right now, Emily needed to get rid of the cake in her mouth before it fought back too much. Greg from accounting was chatting away with Cathy from social relations, and Nina from housekeeping kept to herself over the bowl of punch that hopefully hadn’t been spiked yet. Emily looked like she was in the clear.
She shifted the food in her mouth before taking a once-over of the room again. Emily leaned to her side and let the bite of fruitcake fall into the potted plant in the walkway that she had been lingering in. Emily tried to casually cover it up as she shifted the dirt around with her fingers, but she needed to get that awful taste out of her mouth.
“That bad, huh?”
Emily pulled in a sharp breath that burned her throat with its force. That didn’t’ sound like Karen from IT, which was a major relief, but it did sound like someone important. It wasn’t her fellow assistant at the company, or the CEO herself, but it was-
“Aubrey,” She said, capturing Emily’s attention completely “Aubrey Posen, from legal.”
Emily took in the woman that stood before her: Her hair was usually up and her body was hugged by tight pantsuits or even the occasional skirt. Bur right now, right now, Aubrey Posen wore simple jeans and a red knit sweater that brought out the blush in her cheeks and the pale green in her eyes. She held a bottle of beer that she was nursing and looked effortlessly…stunning.
It made Emily feel nervous in her leggings and tacky Christmas sweater: Jingle my Bells. How did she think that was a good idea?
“You’re Emily, right? Gail’s assistant.” She got a small nod as Emily continued her mute state, taking everything that was Aubrey Posen in “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Karen you spit out her fruitcake. I won’t tell Phoebe that it was her potted plant either.”
“Thank you, I-uh, fruit cake is not good.”
“No, it is not.” Aubrey chuckled, it was a light sound that rang out like Christmas bells that hung on the side of a red painted sleigh. She took the plate the held the remaining edge of cake in her hand and dropped in in the nearest trash can, tactful and effortless. “We can just um, yeah.”
Aubrey dusted off her hand on her jeans and smiled at the woman, raising the bottle to her lips as she took a generous gulp of alcohol. She placed a finger on the girl’s shirt “I like your sweater, it’s cute,” She traced the printed candy cane.
Emily fought back a mix of a grunt and a moan at the sudden and innocent contact. She wasn’t drunk enough for this. Hell, she wasn’t drunk at all. In fact, Emily Junk was painfully sober and everything about the liquid courage she craved was inaccessible with a charming defense attorney for a multi-million dollar company flirting with her.
She let out a small laugh “Yeah, it’s pretty cheesy huh? One of the worst holiday pick-up lines that I’ve heard.”
“I’ve heard worse.” Aubrey drew her hand back and shoved the tips of her fingers into her jeans. It was almost a challenge, the way her eyes lit up. “Go ahead, hit me.”
“Okay,” Emily eased out, she scrunched up her nose and wracked her brain. She and a few friends used to have an annual bad pick-up line contest, they thought they were brilliant, but they were also thirteen years old and had no idea what any of them meant in the first place. “Hmm,”
“Oh, don’t choke now, Emily!” Aubrey had humor laced into her voice “We haven’t even started.”
“Give me a second, give me a second” Emily waved her now free hand in the air. “Alright, how about… that’s not a candy cane in my pocket, I’m just glad to see you?”
Aubrey lifted her eyebrows, swirling the warming beer around the amber glass. “Not bad, not bad. If you were really packing, that is.”
“Alright miss hot-shot lawyer, what’ve you got then?”
A mysterious grin seemed to form against the woman’s red painted lips. She seemed to be contemplating what she said next, maybe she had nothing up her sleeve after all, but either way, she spoke naturally. “Want to meet Santa’s little helper? He’s not so little if you know what I mean…”
“Again, would totally be more effective if you had the proof to back that up.”
They stared each other down for a moment before bursting out in a fit of laughter. It seemed to be the only thing keeping both of them afloat in a corporate party- one that was stifled and hot, and heavy in the completely wrong way. Emily needed a breath of fresh air, and Aubrey had opened the windows full-force.
Aubrey wiped the tears from under her eyes and sighed heavily. “Okay, to be fair I’m new to the whole hitting on girl’s thing. I guess it’s not too wise to recycle pick-up lines, then?”
“This is you hitting on me?” Emily raised an eyebrow.
She had always been an awkward and clumsy mess, someone who had often dropped papers and tripped up the stairs instead of down. But in the five minutes that she was talking to Aubrey, that had been forgotten. Other than spitting up cake in a potted plant.
Aubrey’s face seemed to grow closer to the same shade of her sweater as she cupped the back of her neck. “How strong are these beers?” She squeaked “I’ve had six, so probably not that strong, but-“
“Oh my god, you guys”
Emily froze. Now that voice, that voice was Karen from IT. She felt her stomach churn and Aubrey quickly stopped stumbling over her words, instead dropped her hand to her side and looked at the frizzy-haired woman to her side. “What?”
“You’re under the mistletoe.”
“Oh.” Emily rolled her shoulders back, deep chocolate eyes glancing up. They had been under the little plant tied with red string. It was swinging back and forth from the draft of the door being opened. It was a tradition, much like fruitcake.
Emily had an aunt that would pinch her cheeks at every party she went to and tell her not to wander under the mistletoe before kissing her face a million times and leaving her stunned, covered in lipstick. Granted, Emily hadn’t been to too many parties since the obliged family gatherings, but it didn’t make this any less jarring.
Greg, Cathy, and Nina were all staring at them with expectancy in their eyes, and Karen was practically buzzing with her own excitement. Emily let out a heavy sigh and relented, leaning forward as she pressed a quick kiss to Aubrey’s cheek, leaving the outline of her lips on smooth, electric skin.
“Boo,” Nina mumbled, “You can do better than that, Junk.”
It was Emily’s turn to redden, and suddenly it didn’t’ feel like the two of them like before. Her jumbling mess of a self. “That’s not fair, I mean you- and you’re staring, it’s a plant, Karen.”
Aubrey blew out a breath of hot air before she reached forward and grabbed the green tacky sweater that Emily wore. She pulled her close and Emily’s senses were suddenly overwhelmed with mint and the lingering taste of beer. She relaxed into the embrace and snaked her arms around Aubrey’s neck. Aubrey hugged her close, the two working in such synch that Emily had lost herself, running her hands over the hem of Aubrey’s sweater.
Greg let out a low whistle that broke the kiss, Emily keeping her eyes clenched shut as she kept her head balanced against Aubrey’s. She smiled dorkily and continued to breathe in the ginger scent that drew her in like a siren song. “You taste like fruit cake, Emily.”
