"No," Shawn said. "Absolutely not, Norah."
I held up the red sweater again to examine it. As unflattering as the light up reindeer sweater was, I was about 90% sure Shawn would still resemble some sort of high-class fashion model in it.
"You have to," I pouted, holding it up against his chest. "It's the theme." Shawn scowled and swatted the offending knit clothing away.
"I'm not wearing it."
"You have to."
"Or what?" He quipped, raising an eyebrow in challenge. ¨Russo won't let me into his birthday party?" I shrugged one shoulder.
"Maybe. You know how serious he is about this. I mean, we've only gotten nineteen thousand reminders that the theme is tacky Christmas sweaters. He'll probably have a security guard there to enforce the dress code."
"I've already gotten him a present —"
"Sending rus out with your credit card is a total abuse of your position and wealth—"
"— I've gotten him a present, I'm going to the party, and I am not wearing that sweater." I pointed at my own jumper, a knit green masterpiece with a gaudy cartoon snowman plastered across the front. It was offending to fashion everywhere and it's actually a sin that something that ugly was meant to be worn, let alone even existed.
"Look at me. Fucking look at me, Mendes." His lips twitched in very poorly hidden amusement. "I think it's sort of cute."
"I work at Vogue. I spent an entire months salary on one pair of shoes. At Fashion Week, I saw Karl Lagerfield and Tyler actually had to make me leave the room in order to maintain self control. If I'm wearing one of these sweaters, then so are you."
"Fine," shawn said slowly, narrowing his eyes in defiance. "But I get to wear the snowman one."
"Are you fucking with me right now? I honestly can't tell." He fixed his steely glare on me. "If I'm wearing a sweater, then I'm wearing the snowman one. Final offer. Take it or leave it, Norah." I wasn't sure if it was the cold gaze or the fact that I knew it was going to be the best I was going to get out of him, but either way I ended up tugging my oversize green snowman sweater off over my head and exchanging it for the impossibly uglier red reindeer one.
The red that was originally shawn's was just a bit too loose on me, slipping down over my collarbones and bunching up at my wrists. I ended up cuffing up the sleeves in an attempt to make it fit a little bit better before slipping into skinny jeans and boots. I looked like some sort of elf. On the other hand, exactly as suspected, Shawn looked like something straight out of a Christmas catologue. The dark green sweater made his eyes seem even brighter, made his cheeks look a little bit rosier. It didn't help that it was just a little bit too small and hugging in all the right places.
"I love you," I said, eyes wide with awe.
"I obviously love you because I'm in this fucking sweater," Shawn said, tugging at the neckline. "Let's go."
After grabbing the presents that Miss Jennifer had so carefully wrapped for us (and the bottles of alcohol), I linked my free hand in Shawn's and trailed along with him towards the elevator. "I'm going to take so many pictures of you in that sweater, just so you know."
"Why? For blackmail?"
"Got it in one," I said, pushing the call button. Shawn rolled his eyes and began fumbling with one of the three bottles of gin that he was somehow managing to carry in one of his massive hands. He was unscrewing the cap as we stepped into the elevator. He took a heavy swig straight out of the bottle, then passed it to me without a single word. I shrugged and took a greedy sip of my own, wincing.
"It tastes like Christmas trees," I sputtered before raising the bottle to my lips again.
"Tis the season," Shawn deadpanned. It made my heart flutter just a little bit, because sometimes I thought I couldn't possibly love the CEO anymore, and then he did something like wear a cheap sweater and drink gin out of a bottle and he managed to take up even more space in my heart. The elevator doors slid open. Andrew made a small choking sound at the sight of us. It was either the fact that I was drinking gin straight out of the bottle (which couldn't have been that surprising, honestly), or the fact that Shawn was wearing a fucking light up Christmas sweater. Most likely the sweater.
"One word," Shawn snapped, fixing Andrew with a deadly glare. I slowly lowered the glass bottle from my lips like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "One fucking word and you're fired." Andrew nodded solemnly.
"Duly noted, sir." Shawn stormed towards the waiting car in front of me, head held high as if to keep a little bit of dignity. I held up my hand for a high-five as I passed our driver.
"It's okay," I stage whispered to Andrew , turning the failed high-five into some awkward pat on the back. "He's on Santa's naughty list already."
"Get in the fucking car, Norah." Shawn snapped.
"Coal in his stocking for sure." shawn slammed the car door shut in a very pointed manner. By the time Andrew and I managed to stop giggling and climb in after Shawn, he was sitting stoically in the backseat with the liquor clutched firmly in his hands, eyes straight ahead, lips pursed. I lasted about thirty seconds in the tense silence.
"There are so many potential Ebeneezer Scrooge jokes." shawn gave me a sideways glance, and that was all it took before he was doubled over in laughter, shoulders shaking, forehead resting against the leather seat in front of him, and my heart swelled just a little bit as I fell impossibly more in love with him.
* * * *
"I don't know if it'd be weirder to knock or not to knock," I said, hand paused in front of my apartment door. "Is that weird?"
"I never knock," shawn mused ,I glared up at him.
"Yeah, well, you're not a real person so you don't count." With that, I pushed into the Manhattan apartment that I hadn't returned to in over two weeks. It was exactly the same as I had left it — bright and homely and coffee scented — except the places where my things used to be seemed to have been overtaken by Russo-related objects and decorations. Multicolored blinking lights hung high on the walls, our fake Christmas tree was shoved in the corner, and both the kitchen table and bar had been cleared of all appliances and replaced with bottles of alcohol, red and green cupcakes, one giant silver cake with Happy Birthday scripted on the top. We added our bottles to the already giant collection and placed the presents on the little bit of free surface I could find.
"Tyler?" I called. "Birthday boy?"
"Not my birthday yet!" Russo shouted from the living room. We followed the sound of his voice and found him and Tyler pushing our couch back against the wall to make dancing room.
"All of our friends apparently live on another continent or something and have to go home by Christmas Eve. It's disgusting." Laughing, I greeted both of them with kisses on their cheeks.
"A true disaster."
"You're early," Russo said.
"It's my apartment," I shot back. "Plus I'm a good friend and wanted to know if you guys needed any help with, like, stuff. And we brought gin and are going to pour it down your throat,Russo! Happy birthday!" He kicked at my ankles, but I could see the smile on his face.
"Cheers."
* * * *
By the time Ian showed up with Eryn and Niall (who had four men carrying a suspiciously large package behind him), we were all four shots deep,Russo had the music blaring, and Shawn was caring less and less about his snowman sweater, all signs pointing to a good night. After that, the sound of the music increased along with the amount of party guests, each wearing their own hideous sweaters and holding various presents. They greeted Russo with warm hugs and kisses, and he immediately shoved drinks in their hands and brought them to greet us, Stan and Ellis and Aiden and so many names I couldn't even begin to remember with all the drinks in my system. Things were starting to get a little bit blurry, and then Brian craigen showed up with fiancée alessia on his arm and three bottles of the 40k Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam in his hands
. Niall immediately grabbed all of them and popped them while standing on the kitchen table, and after that it was sort of game over. Through all of it, though, shawn was at my side, warm fingers curling into the back of my sweater, the sense of holiday giddiness apparently even getting to him. He even kissed me under one of the many mistletoe, lips tasting like expensive champagne and the red velvet cupcakes that we'd been sneaking all night.
"I love you," He said in between mistletoe-induced kisses.
"And I love you," I said, and then Alessia was there, dragging me back to the kitchen for more shots with her and Ian and, in one occasion, dragging me screaming to see Brian and Shawn both doing body shots off of Niall Horan. I probably should have been more surprised about that one. The party continued into the night, a constant blur of Christmas lights and ugly sweaters and people kissing in between drinks. At some point, Russo opened his presents to find a new pair of Marvel printed Vans from me, some Broadway tickets from Shawn, and a male stripper in a birthday cake from Niall that explained the abnormally large box.
"The stripper doesn't have to wear an ugly sweater," Shawn complained, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. I sagged back into his touch as we watched the dancer attempt to give various people lap dances. "Neither is Brian "
"Brian is a robot alien Greek god," I slurred. "Doesn't count."
"I'm the one writing Brian Craigens's paychecks, and yet I'm still here in a sweater." I tilted my head back on his shoulder, kissing his jawline blindly.
"You're so cute though, like, in the sweater. Cute sweater Shawn. Don't fire him. You're so cute. Kisses, please." If anything, the alcohol made me more charming.
* * * *
Apparently the stripper was the high point of the night, because after that people began to leave the apartment, flooding out into the unforgiving New York air in search of taxis and their own warm beds to wake up in. The venue emptied out until only the original bunch remained scattered across furniture.
"Christ," Niall groaned, shutting the door behind the last few guests. There was a dash of icing across his cheek in between all of the lipstick kiss marks. He collapsed into the couch, feet in Sophia and Alessias lap, head in Ian and Brian's.
"Don't know if I've had more alcohol or cupcakes."
"The battle for space in your stomach," Russo yawned. He and Tyler were curled up against one another in one of the kitchen chairs, surrounded by wrapping paper and empty glasses.
"Everyone get out of my apartment." Brian who had a dick drawn on his face and therefore was not an alien robot Greek god, scoffed.
"Mate, do you really want to clean all of this by yourself?" Niall groaned dramatically and buried his head further against Ian's stomach. "
No, fuckin' hell no, I'm hiring maids to come tomorrow. We aren't cleaning, no fuckin' way. No fuckin' way. Fuck, I'll call some people."
"Perfect," Russo cheered. "That can be your real present because the stripper was shit." Tylers squawked and pinched his boyfriends arm, slurring something about being grateful and thankful and whatnot, but Russo waved his away with a pout face and slurring something back about how it was his birthday and after that I realized I probably didn't want to hear any more of that conversation. I turned and snuggled up further against Shawn, eyelids starting to droop shut. The only way I had been measuring time was by the amount of drinks I'd gone through, and I eventually even lost count of that. But I knew it was late, and the warm glow of the Christmas lights made me even sleepier.
"I'd love to stay and chat about how incredible the stripper was," Niall said loudly. "But, I have to jet back to Ireland and more champagne and also probably more strippers waiting for me. Someone carry me." In response, Ian shoved him to the floor.
"Why is your flight so early?"
"Why is Russo' birthday so close to Christmas?" Niall countered. "I told my mum I'd be back by the twenty-third, which means I've got to be back across the Atlantic four hours ago. S'fuckin' inconvenient, is what it is." Russo flicked him off.
"I'm like an early Jesus. Except every year. Not inconvenient. Miraculous."
"Hallelujah." With that, Niall jumped up off the floor, adjusting his bright blue Christmas sweater. He gave us all a mock salute, grabbed a half-empty vodka bottle, and headed out the door, leaving everyone to stare after him and try to collect themselves in the wake of his exuberance. After a solid thirty seconds, Brian shook his head and stood, offering one hand to Alessia as he went, followed closely behind by Ian and Eryn. They hugged us each goodbye in turn, muttering their thanks and a few more "Merry Christmas's" on the way out, shutting the door behind them.
Russo looked at Shawn and me expectantly. "Well, I would be polite, but I think that's your cue to go and it's still my birthday week. So. Out with you two."
"I live here," I protested weakly.
"So do I," he huffed. "Tyler even gave me a key because it's my birthday." I sat up so fast that I almost cracked my head against Shawn's jaw, glaring at both of them in a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"I hate both of you," I said slowly. "I knew it. C'mon, Shawn, let's go back to our penthouse apartment with a view of Central Park and expensive kitchen appliances."
"That you don't have even know how to use!" Tyler called out, holding his hand out for a high-five. Russo slapped his palm with a triumphant grin. "Also, I think you mean that it's his apartment. Unless, of course, that has changed."
"Shut up," I said fondly, crawling out of Shawn's lap to hug them goodbye. I pressed liquor-sticky kisses against each of their against each of their cheeks and gave them warm hugs. "Love you both. Happy birthday, Russo." Shawn did the same after me, then took my waiting hand and marched out of the apartment together, drunk off good alcohol and full of sugar.
"Andrew should have the car waiting," Shawn said quietly, our footsteps echoing down the stairs together. We pushed open the door to find that it had snowed once again, a soft layer covering the dark pavement and flakes still floating down, which accounted for the lack of a car sitting out front.
"Cold," I said meekly, seeking warmth against Shawn's warm chest.
"He'll be here soon," Shawn murmured. He rested his chin on top of my head and wrapped his arms around me, broad hands sliding up my sweater to find the warmth of my skin. "It could be ours, by the way. My penthouse. You practically live there anyways."
"It's only logical," I said against his chest. He hummed in agreement. "Both parties would benefit from the agreement."
"I love it when you talk business," I mumbled, tilting my head back to look up at him. His cheeks were flushed from the wind and glowing from the liquor; his eyes dark and wide. "Important sounding words that I don't understand. Hot."
"The revenue," Shawn said quietly, ducking until I could feel his breath against my lips.
"From this month exceeded the quota for the part three combined. Shareholders equity has almost tripled."
"Tripled," I echoed, and then Shawn was kissing me, pushing me back against the brick wall of my old building. His fingers dug into my hips, and his lips were cold with winter as they dragged over mine, slightly chapped and stained with sugar and vodka in a way that was only appealing.
"Yours," I mumbled.
"Yours, too." Shawn replied, equally as quiet. I threaded my hands into his curls in response, thumbs gently brushing his cheekbones. We kissed until we were both laughing, clouds of white mist mingling in between our lips, which made Shawn laugh and recapture my lips with his again, strong and full of want.
"Our flat?" I demanded breathlessly between kisses.
"Ours,"Shawn said. "I can't cook for shit. Are you sure it's an alright investment?"
"A bit risky," he hummed, cocking his head to the side in mock consideration. "But you give fantastic blow jobs. Risks and benefits, babe."
"I think Miss Jennifer likes me, anyways. She can make enough food for two." Shawn smiled down at me.
"She loves you. And the car is here. There's ice and you're still hammered, so do not fucking trip. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I said solemnly, hand searching for the warmth of his own. Reaching out, he instead wrapped his arm around my waist in a probable attempt to keep me from slipping straight onto the glittery pavement like I most likely would. He pressed his mouth behind me ear as we made our way to the waiting car, boots crunching on the snow. I tilted my head onto his shoulder. "Your apartment better be warm."
"Our apartment," he said, and then pulled me over into one more warm kiss under the snow-speckled glow of the street lamps. We were both smiling so hard our teeth clanked a little, and his hands got caught in my hideous Christmas sweater, and my fingertips were going numb, but it was perfect. We had to fight for it, and we had to fucking try. I knew I wasn't as good as a person as I wanted to be, and Shawn wasn't either, but we tried. It doesn't always work -- it hardly ever does -- but we would always try and we got there. And it was worth it in the end with Shawn nuzzling my neck and whispering "yours" warm against my skin.
"Yours, too," I breathed. And, yeah, it was perfect.
/ / THE END / /