Merry Christmas, Asshole.

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way...

I sighed softly, leaning my head lazily against the back of the couch and absentmindedly swirling what remained of my nearly-empty bottle of beer in one hand as the chipper sounds of the cliché holiday jingle drifted through my crowded living room.

These Christmas Eve parties had become a bit of a tradition for me over the years - whenever we were off tour for the holidays, I took the opportunity to call a gathering of all the friends and family I didn't usually have the time to see and brought them together to celebrate. It was definitely a lot of fun, though the set-up and clean-up were hell.

"Craig? Dude, you listening?"

"Hm?" I lifted my head to see my band's guitarist, Monte, snapping his fingers in my ear a bit irritably from his position beside me on the threadbare couch.

"You had too much to drink already, Mabbitt?" He asked me with a quirked eyebrow, taking a sip out of his own drink.

"No, just thinking." I replied with a shrug, downing the rest of the beer and setting the empty bottle on the glass coffee table in front of me.

He snorted. "About what, Max?"

Rolling my eyes, I glanced past a particularly rowdy clump of cousins to see the large clock hung on the wall beside the door. Ten-fifteen p.m.

"You did tell him eight o' clock, right?" I asked Monte with a slight frown, making him roll his eyes.

"Yes, Craig, I did. But you know Max, he'd be late to his own funeral if he could."

Slumping back against the cushions, I let out a loud sigh. That was true, I supposed, but still. Two hours? I hadn't seen the man in months and he decides anything less than two hours late is too early to show up?

"Asshole." I mumbled, pouting slightly.

"Awww, is Cwaigy sulking?" Monte asked in a baby voice, poking my lower lip with one calloused finger.

"I think you're the one who's had too much to drink, Bryan." I replied with a chuckle, swatting his hand away.

Monte opened his mouth to reply, an indignant expression already on his face, but just then, a loud knock sounded on the front door.

"I got it!" I called to the several people already turning towards the door, standing up quickly and making my way through the tightly-packed crowds of people towards the front of the house.

I wasn't quite sure who it would be, as most of the people I'd invited had already arrived. There were only a few guests left...including...

"Merry Christmas!"

As I pulled the door open, a multicolored blur leaped into my arms, quite literally tackling me to the floor and scaring the living shit out of me and everyone around me. Once the room stopped spinning, I glanced up to see a mischeviously grinning Max seated on my chest, a fuzzy red and white Santa hat perched crookedly on top of his messy dark locks.

"...eve." He tacked on as an afterthought, ignoring the stunned expressions on the other partygoers' faces as he smiled brightly down at me.

"...Max?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Craig darling?"

"Off, fatass."

Laughing, Max sprang up, allowing much-needed air back into my lungs as he grabbed my outstretched hand to help me up, closing the still-open door behind him.

"How've you been, man?" He asked brightly, ignoring the confused stares of the people around us, "You miss me?"

"Max?" I asked him, unable to hide a smile as I rolled my eyes at his energy, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Max bit his lip a bit guiltily, fiddling with the pom-pom on the end of his hat, "I know, I know, sorry, dude. My car broke down, again, so I had to walk all the way here."

"Why not just call a taxi?" I asked with a frown, seeing the way he shivered, even all wrapped up in a giant fluffy coat like he was.

"I'm too hardcore for that shit, man." He replied with a grin, eyes sparkling behind his glasses, "And besides, money's been kinda tight lately, so I don't want to waste any." He said a bit more seriously.

"You could've called someone." I responded with a concerned look, "Hell, you could've called me, man. I could've driven you."

Max raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding me, Craig? You bitch for hours about putting out fucking tablecloths for your own damn party, you lazy ass. I'm not gonna help you procrastinate even more by making you pick me up from all the way across town."

I couldn't help the smile that came to my lips at the playful kindness in his tone. It was true that I had a lot to do around Christmastime to make sure everything ran smoothly, but that was my problem, not his.

Holding my arms open for a less painful hug, I smiled as I felt his huge, puffy coat squish into my chest. "Yeah, that's true, but you're still my friend, Max, even though we're not bandmates anymore. I can always make time for you."

"Thanks, man," He chuckled into my shoulder, but I could hear real gratitude in his tone.

"Welcome." I replied with a smile, "And if you really wanna know...yeah, I did miss you. A lot."

He pulled back a bit, thin arms still around my waist in a half-hug to grin at me.

"Well then," he replied with a laugh, "I missed you too."

"Alright, alright, everybody got their feelings out, I wanna hug the asshole too."

We both looked up to see Robert, hair tied back in a ponytail and trademark sunglasses perched on his head, smiling down at Max as the bassist let go of me and wrapped himself around the drummer instead.

"Hey, man! How've you been!" Max exclaimed.

"Good, dude, everything's been great. You?" He replied as soon as Max let go enough for him to breathe.

"Good, Rob, same here." He replied, shrugging out of his giant black marshmellow-coat and holding it up with one tattooed hand.

"Anyways..." Slipping his fingers into a huge pocket that I hadn't even noticed until now, Max rooted around for a moment before yanking out a large, brightly colored plastic bag with a wide smile. "I brought chese puffs!" He squealed in a sing-song voice, dangling the bag of delicious processed cheese snacks in front of our faces.

"Cheese puffs, fuck yeah!" Robert whooped, grabbing the bag from Max's hands and tearing it open right there.

"Fatass." I snatched the bag away from him, stole a few of the bright orange, powder-coated cheese balls, and handed it back with a roll of my eyes.

"Anywhere I can leave this, Craig?" Max asked, shaking his head at Robert and turning to me with a questioning expression, still holding the coat.

I nodded. "Closet's upstairs, follow me."

Max trotted after me as I led him upstairs to the guest bedroom, which was already scattered with coats and boots from the people downstairs. The older man glanced around with a quirked brow.

"'Closet'?" He asked me with a laugh, tossing his coat on top of the ever-growing mound on the unused bed.

"Well," I shrugged, "We tried using the one downstairs at first...don't tell anyone, but I don't think that door is ever coming open again."

Max laughed out loud at that, running one hand through his wind-tangled hair in a fruitless attempt to put it in order as he followed me out of the room and back down the stairs.

"Now," I said, turning to him with a grin as we slipped into the relatively deserted kitchen, opening the fridge and allowing him his pick of drinks, "Grab a bottle and let's party!"



"Craiggyyyy..." A low giggle slipped from Max's throat as his head lolled lazily onto my shoulder, "I thinn' I had t'oo much t-ah!" A loud hiccup interrupted his sentence, making him break out into loud, drunken giggles as he slumped further back into the cushions.

I couldn't help but laugh with him, taking a deep drink out of my - tenth? eleventh? - beer as I leaned just as heavily against him as he was against me, both of us lazing against the back of the otherwise-empty couch that Monte - or was it Robert? - and I had been talking on just a few hours earlier.

"I'm drunkkkk." He giggled in my ear, words slurring and smelling strongly of the alcohol he'd been downing constantly since he'd arrived.

"Mmhmm." I mumbled, clumsily raising one hand to play with the messy hair tumbling over his shoulders that had been catching my eyes for the last few minutes.

God, his hair was so silky and soft. Why hadn't I noticed this before? I ran my fingers through it gently, marveling at the way the ebony strands caught the light, reflecting it just enough to turn them a shimmering blueish color. It was so gorgeous...

"Wha're you doing?"

Max had tilted his head back slightly to look at me with the sleepy, unfocused eyes I was sure I was mirroring back to him in my inebriated state. Except his were prettier, so much prettier...they were a deep mossy green, a bit red-tinged around the edges from drunkenness, and a bit hidden by his now-crooked glasses, but still so pretty, like his hair...

"You're pretty." I slurred, combing my fingers through his hair once more and watching the way his half-lidded eyes caught the light behind his glasses.

With some difficulty, Max sat up, swaying slightly as he squinted at me, confused.

"Wha'?"

"You're pretty, Maxie." I repeated, poking his cheek gently for emphasis.

"How'mi..." He struggled to form the words, "p-pretty?"

How was I supposed to answer that? I couldn't, really - he just was. Couldn't he see it?

"I 'onno," I replied, taking a lock of his hair between my fingers again, "Your hair 's so silky 'n your eyes are so sparkly an' you're just pretty."

"You're drunk." He slurred.

"You're still pretty." I replied, clumsily attempting to straighten out his crooked Santa hat as he pouted at me.

"Noooo." He whined, shaking his head and promptly causing the hat to flop back into its lopsided position.

"Yessss." I replied, tugging gently on his hair as he glared at me.

He was pretty. He had pretty hair and eyes and skin and tattoos and lips...his lips were really pretty - why hadn't I seen that before? All pink and pouty and full...they looked so soft...I wanted to touch them.

Reaching a hand forward, I gently poked his protruding lower lip, making him pull it back in with a confused sound.

"Wha're you doin', Craigy?"

I shrugged. "Your lips 're pretty, too."

"Nuh-uh." He sulked, clumsily folding his arms and glaring at me as best he could in his intoxication.

"Yeahh." I whined just as stubbornly.

They were pretty - so pretty, I wanted to look at them and feel them and touch them. I wanted to -

"I wan'na kiss them." I slurred.

Whoa. Where did that come from? I mean - I did, they were so pretty and perfect and -

What the hell was I saying? I'd been drinking, I wasn't thinking straight -

"Okay."

"Huh?" I glanced up at Max, who was watching me with curious eyes.

"You c'n kiss me."

"R-really?" I asked, unsure whether I'd heard him right.

"Mmhmm." He mumbled, nodding lazily, "Go 'head."

He pouted his lips together just slightly, and I felt the urge to kiss him completely overwhelm me, washing every other sober thought out of my head. As I leaned in closer, I felt him do the same, movements clumsy but intentional.

What was I doing? I was drunk, he was drunk, we shouldn't have been doing this. We weren't even in private, for fuck's sake. We were in the middle of a party, and people were watching, and goddamn those lips looked so good...

And then we were kissing, hot and wet and sloppy. His head tilted to the side just slightly as our lips touched, contact tasting heavily of vodka and peppermint, and the only thing I could think of right then was that his lips were even softer than I had imagined.

After a moment passed, Max began to draw back slowly, and I felt the pressure of his mouth on mine lifting. I didn't want it to end. I wouldn't let it end. Almost unconsciously, I pulled him back in and pressed that heavenly sweetness closer to me again. His body went rigid with surprise for a moment, before relaxing against mine as he slung one arm clumsily around my neck and I slipped mine around his waist.

We seemed to be kissing for ages. I wasn't sure when tongue got involved, but suddenly I was aware of Max's probing past my lips and rubbing against mine, a feeling so good I couldn't help but gasp quietly against his mouth. A slight smirk formed on his lips as he pulled me even closer, my head spinning as his scent and touch overwhelmed me.

The rest of the night passed in flashes. Me pinning Max to the couch, biting down hard on his lower lip as he squealed shamelessly against my mouth. People staring at us in shocked disbelief as we stumbled up the stairs, Max falling to his hands and knees at the top and pulling me down with him, giggles escaping from both of our mouths as he tackled me to the hallway floor. Pulling Max into my bedroom, shutting the door behind us and shoving him against it as hard as he'd pushed me a few hours ago as I forced my tongue down his throat. Pushing him down onto the bed, knocking the Santa hat off his head to set his long dark hair free for my fingers to tangle in. Feeling him rubbing his body against mine, first clothed, then naked, his dick in my hand, his moans in my ear. Pinning him to the bed and making love to a man for the first time in my life, feeling his nails on my back and his growls in my ear. Falling to the mattress, cum splattered over my stomach, turning to the clock on the bedside table, and realizing that it was well past midnight.

Max turned to me then, a sleepy, satisfied smirk on his face, eyes half-lidded and comfortably exhausted.

"Merry Christmas, Craig." He mumbled, kissing my cheek with those perfect lips that started everything.

I smiled. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was something else. But something told me that this was one drunken encounter I wouldn't regret.

"Merry Christmas, Maxie."