Fic: Under the Mistletoe (Heroes - Matt/Mohinder) 1/1
Title: Under the Mistletoe
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairing: Lt. Maggie Silver, Matt/Mohinder, Molly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,964
Prompt: "Matt and Mohinder at the police station's holiday party. Preferably with some POV that is NOT Matt or Mohinder. I.E: One of Matt's co-workers, or their significant other's thoughts about how adorable they are or something along those lines. Bonus points for PDA :D"
Summary: Maggie is bored to death with the precinct holiday party... until Parkman shows up and things get interesting.
Author's Note: Written for summerkins, for the m3secretsanta gift fic exchange. The prompt evolved a little, with 'adorable' becoming 'hot', but I hope this still works. Also, I couldn't help the hint of crossover here. Maggie Silver = Maggie Sawyer, from the DCU. :p
Under the Mistletoe
It's the same old holiday party they have every year at the third precinct house. Garish decorations, barely palatable finger foods, spiked punch, inane small talk. Maggie can't stand it.
But here she is, standing to herself by her desk, nibbling on a festively sprinkled brownie, and wishing the Captain would just change his policy on mandatory attendance already. Because really, her time could be so much better spent at home, cleaning her service weapon. Here, all she can do is try to shield her eyes from one of the more 'well-known' Sergeants as he makes a drunken fool of himself in front of the entire room, dancing to some ridiculous song about reindeer.
Dear God, deliver me from idiots.
Sipping her spiked punch - how anyone could not notice the insane amount of rum in this stuff is beyond her - she makes up her mind. No point in hanging around anymore. The Captain's seen her a few times, and that's all that really matters, anyway, right? She quickly scans the room to see if the coast is clear for her to make her exit, tucking an errant lock of cropped blonde hair behind her ear, and just as she's about to lose her cup of punch to the trash can and high-tail it out of there, a warm hand lands on her shoulder.
“Mags?”
It's Detective Parkman, freshly promoted and sporting a look of barely restrained excitement. Unable to help a genuine smile of her own at the teddy-bear of a man grinning at her, she finally ditches the punch and turns toward him. “Oh, hey, Parkman. I was just-”
“Heading out. Yeah,” he nods, his smile turning a little mischievous. “Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.”
“That's a relief,” she smirks. Then she notices the little girl holding Matt's hand with an iron grip. Her smile is like a thousand watt bulb.
“Uh, Mags, I'd like you meet Molly. Molly, this is Lieutenant Silver. Best cop on the force, swear to God.” Matt's grin nearly matches Molly's in its radiance, and Maggie is taken aback by the sheer paternal pride in his voice, never mind the winking compliment.
Kneeling down to eye level, she shakes the little girl's hand. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, Molly. I've heard so much about you!”
“You, too,” Molly beams. “Matt talks about you all the time.”
Nervously running his free hand through his hair at his daughter's frankness, he apologizes, “Well, you know how it is, Mags. Half the guys in here...”
He doesn't need to finish for her to read “are incompetents” and “are ass holes” from his expression. Over the last few months, the two of them have become a kind of safe haven for the outcasts of the force, being the only two openly gay officers in the precinct. A united front against the suitably nicknamed 'testosterone patrol'. It's been good for them.
Nodding after a moment, she agrees as she stands, “Ain't that the truth?” Then, with another smirk, she says, “Thought you said your other half was coming tonight?”
“Oh, he's on his way. Should be here pretty soon,” Matt explains as he lets Molly scurry off to the buffet table.
“Well, I hope he gets here before I'm gone. Been waiting a long time to meet this man of yours.”
She's sure Matt's face turns three shades closer to crimson at the slight tease, and she can't help a little chuckle at his expense, only managing to rein it in when she fully remembers he hasn't introduced Mohinder to anyone on the force yet. The potential for disaster tonight is actually pretty high, considering the free-flowing alcohol. Clapping him on the arm, she soothes, “No worries, Parkman. I can stick around if you like. The 'testosterone patrol' will have to get past me first if they try to give you any trouble.” Matt gives her a narrow-eyed look, at which she can't contain another small chuckle, and-
She realizes Molly is headed straight for said liquored-up the punch, and her mind switches gears immediately. “Hey, don't let her go near the punch. Ortiz spiked it, the bastard.”
Matt's head snaps around, his eyes wide, “What!? Dammit.” He stares after his daughter for a moment, until Molly turns around, her expression aggravated. Maggie watches Matt cock his head to the side, until Molly returns an exasperated look and turns to head off toward the more innocuous bottled and canned drinks.
The exchange is odd, but the Lieutenant shrugs it off, figuring they've worked out a code, like all good cop families. Better to keep the kids in check with a look than having to shout across a crowded room.
When Matt turns back to her, he looks like he wants to boil someone in oil. “Thanks for the heads up. I figured that jack-ass was up to no good.”
“No problem. You wouldn't believe the amount of rum he-”
But she's cut off again as another grin lights up Matt's face and his attention is drawn toward the door. When Maggie follows his line of sight, her eyes are met with a vision like something out of one of those Harlequin romance novels. I'll be damned, she kicks herself. Matt wasn't kidding when he said his guy was gorgeous.
The sharply cut Indian strides across the room quickly with another brilliantly white grin plastered squarely across his similarly shaped jaw - the grin clearly a trait native to their particular household, genetic propensity or not - and she thinks she might faint from sheer envy of his features. “Wow, Parkman... way to go!” she whispers to her friend as he slides past her to meet Mohinder with a firm hug.
She hears Matt's half-whispered scolding as he's still holding onto the man. “You rat. I thought you were half-way across town!”
“I do have to keep you on your toes, don't I?”
Maggie melts at the dulcet British accent, and she vows then and there to move to London or New Delhi and meet some fantastic British-Indian woman to have a torrid affair with.
With a quick kiss on the cheek, Matt lets go of his companion, then drags him by the hand back to be introduced. “Mags, this is Doctor Mohinder Suresh. Mohinder, Mags.” This time it's a completely different kind of pride on the man's face, his grin even wider than before.
“Pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Suresh,” she greets him with a firm handshake, noting his long, lithe fingers.
“Likewise, of course. Matthew speaks quite highly of you. And it's Mohinder, please.”
“Yes, of course.”
And suddenly Mohinder's attention sweeps to the side, concern written onto his features in an instant, and Maggie follows the Indian's gaze, finding Matt staring across the room, brow furrowed dangerously, eyes blazing. “What is it?” she asks, knowing the detective's tendency to zero in on trouble at the drop of a hat.
He tips his chin up in a slight nod. “Henrich. He's talking about us. Pretty sure I just saw several unsavory comments pass his lips.”
“Damn,” she swears, voice low as she turns to eye the offending officer, planting her hands on her hips. “Can't we get through one precinct function without that ass hole living up to his reputation? I swear, it's like he knows just who to pick on in any given situation.”
Turning back, she sees Matt's left eye twitch, his expression still hard, and she knows he's probably lip-reading the other officer. Handy skill, she's had to admit on more than one occasion. “You trust me?” he says to Mohinder with a decisive tone.
“When have I not?” the lean scientist replies, the glint of mischief in his own deep mahogany eyes.
Maggie gets the feeling Matt is about to do something momentous. “Should I grab a camera, or a can of Mace?” she quips.
“Both, probably.”
With that, he grabs Mohinder by the wrist, dragging him out to the middle of the room, where the desks have been cleared out, and a particular sprig of shrubbery has been hung from the ceiling in the midst of long swags of sparkling garlands. The crowd of officers and staff almost seems to part to admit them to the center of the open floor.
Staring, Maggie has to hand it to Matt. This is one ballsy move. She almost wishes she did have a camera on hand to capture it.
Matt's leering at Mohinder like the man is a side of beef, taking his face in his hands. His head dips, and the resulting kiss is the most sensual thing Maggie thinks she's seen in years. To hell with orientation, she feels heat rising up the sides of her face just watching the display, Mohinder's hands around Matt's waist slipping lower, until he's practically squeezing his backside, tongues swirling between their mouths. She thinks for a moment that she might need new panties after this, it's so... hot.
Swallowing and tearing her gaze away from her friend and his man, she registers Molly off to one side, rolling her eyes dramatically at her dads as she stuffs a piece of cheese in her mouth, the surrounding officers and staff suddenly catching sight of the kiss themselves. A rustling whisper turns into a murmur of encouragement, and finally into a fully-orchestral arrangement of cat-calls, whistles, and applause.
Maggie can't help grinning at it; having confirmation that the majority of the precinct has been warming up to the idea of openly gay officers serving the force is a great feeling. It's something she and Matt have been working hard towards achieving.
When her gaze lands on Henrich, Ortiz, and the rest of the 'testosterone patrol', she makes note of their shocked, offended, and otherwise intolerant expressions. Giving them her hardest glare, she waits to see what they'll do. If they're smart, they'll back down, say nothing, and the precinct can get back to making fools of themselves on the liquored-up punch. If they're not... well, she's ready to run interference, and has every reason now to believe the rest of the precinct will back her up.
Meanwhile, Matt and Mohinder still haven't parted, their faces seemingly sealed together, hands getting even more friendly, the Indian's caramel fingers twining into dark hair and ghosting across the pale skin of Matt's neck. Maggie almost wants to feel a little embarrassed for them as it goes on, but she finds she just can't. They just look too damn happy about it, smiling into the kiss and eagerly pressing themselves together.
Finally, after what looks to be about two whole minutes of lip-lock, Matt and Mohinder beak apart, nearly gasping for breath. The attention of the room slips away from them, and the Lieutenant watches Ortiz start to come forward, anger and pure hatred written on his face. She reaches for her Mace instinctively, hand poised over the catch on her belt, until Henrich and another officer grab his arms, pulling him back. Henrich waves a hand, looking agitated as he whispers something in Ortiz's ear.
It takes a while for the Hispanic officer to back down, and when he does, Maggie relaxes. All she can do is hope that the bastards might be getting the clue that they can't do anything about Parkman's relationship status.
When the men disperse at last, she seeks out Matt to go congratulate him. And maybe to have some people to hang out with during the remainder of the party. Cleaning her service weapon can wait until tomorrow; spiked punch and 'testosterone patrol' aside, this is finally looking like it could be an interesting precinct event after all.
* * * * *
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairing: Lt. Maggie Silver, Matt/Mohinder, Molly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,964
Prompt: "Matt and Mohinder at the police station's holiday party. Preferably with some POV that is NOT Matt or Mohinder. I.E: One of Matt's co-workers, or their significant other's thoughts about how adorable they are or something along those lines. Bonus points for PDA :D"
Summary: Maggie is bored to death with the precinct holiday party... until Parkman shows up and things get interesting.
Author's Note: Written for summerkins, for the m3secretsanta gift fic exchange. The prompt evolved a little, with 'adorable' becoming 'hot', but I hope this still works. Also, I couldn't help the hint of crossover here. Maggie Silver = Maggie Sawyer, from the DCU. :p
Under the Mistletoe
It's the same old holiday party they have every year at the third precinct house. Garish decorations, barely palatable finger foods, spiked punch, inane small talk. Maggie can't stand it.
But here she is, standing to herself by her desk, nibbling on a festively sprinkled brownie, and wishing the Captain would just change his policy on mandatory attendance already. Because really, her time could be so much better spent at home, cleaning her service weapon. Here, all she can do is try to shield her eyes from one of the more 'well-known' Sergeants as he makes a drunken fool of himself in front of the entire room, dancing to some ridiculous song about reindeer.
Dear God, deliver me from idiots.
Sipping her spiked punch - how anyone could not notice the insane amount of rum in this stuff is beyond her - she makes up her mind. No point in hanging around anymore. The Captain's seen her a few times, and that's all that really matters, anyway, right? She quickly scans the room to see if the coast is clear for her to make her exit, tucking an errant lock of cropped blonde hair behind her ear, and just as she's about to lose her cup of punch to the trash can and high-tail it out of there, a warm hand lands on her shoulder.
“Mags?”
It's Detective Parkman, freshly promoted and sporting a look of barely restrained excitement. Unable to help a genuine smile of her own at the teddy-bear of a man grinning at her, she finally ditches the punch and turns toward him. “Oh, hey, Parkman. I was just-”
“Heading out. Yeah,” he nods, his smile turning a little mischievous. “Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.”
“That's a relief,” she smirks. Then she notices the little girl holding Matt's hand with an iron grip. Her smile is like a thousand watt bulb.
“Uh, Mags, I'd like you meet Molly. Molly, this is Lieutenant Silver. Best cop on the force, swear to God.” Matt's grin nearly matches Molly's in its radiance, and Maggie is taken aback by the sheer paternal pride in his voice, never mind the winking compliment.
Kneeling down to eye level, she shakes the little girl's hand. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, Molly. I've heard so much about you!”
“You, too,” Molly beams. “Matt talks about you all the time.”
Nervously running his free hand through his hair at his daughter's frankness, he apologizes, “Well, you know how it is, Mags. Half the guys in here...”
He doesn't need to finish for her to read “are incompetents” and “are ass holes” from his expression. Over the last few months, the two of them have become a kind of safe haven for the outcasts of the force, being the only two openly gay officers in the precinct. A united front against the suitably nicknamed 'testosterone patrol'. It's been good for them.
Nodding after a moment, she agrees as she stands, “Ain't that the truth?” Then, with another smirk, she says, “Thought you said your other half was coming tonight?”
“Oh, he's on his way. Should be here pretty soon,” Matt explains as he lets Molly scurry off to the buffet table.
“Well, I hope he gets here before I'm gone. Been waiting a long time to meet this man of yours.”
She's sure Matt's face turns three shades closer to crimson at the slight tease, and she can't help a little chuckle at his expense, only managing to rein it in when she fully remembers he hasn't introduced Mohinder to anyone on the force yet. The potential for disaster tonight is actually pretty high, considering the free-flowing alcohol. Clapping him on the arm, she soothes, “No worries, Parkman. I can stick around if you like. The 'testosterone patrol' will have to get past me first if they try to give you any trouble.” Matt gives her a narrow-eyed look, at which she can't contain another small chuckle, and-
She realizes Molly is headed straight for said liquored-up the punch, and her mind switches gears immediately. “Hey, don't let her go near the punch. Ortiz spiked it, the bastard.”
Matt's head snaps around, his eyes wide, “What!? Dammit.” He stares after his daughter for a moment, until Molly turns around, her expression aggravated. Maggie watches Matt cock his head to the side, until Molly returns an exasperated look and turns to head off toward the more innocuous bottled and canned drinks.
The exchange is odd, but the Lieutenant shrugs it off, figuring they've worked out a code, like all good cop families. Better to keep the kids in check with a look than having to shout across a crowded room.
When Matt turns back to her, he looks like he wants to boil someone in oil. “Thanks for the heads up. I figured that jack-ass was up to no good.”
“No problem. You wouldn't believe the amount of rum he-”
But she's cut off again as another grin lights up Matt's face and his attention is drawn toward the door. When Maggie follows his line of sight, her eyes are met with a vision like something out of one of those Harlequin romance novels. I'll be damned, she kicks herself. Matt wasn't kidding when he said his guy was gorgeous.
The sharply cut Indian strides across the room quickly with another brilliantly white grin plastered squarely across his similarly shaped jaw - the grin clearly a trait native to their particular household, genetic propensity or not - and she thinks she might faint from sheer envy of his features. “Wow, Parkman... way to go!” she whispers to her friend as he slides past her to meet Mohinder with a firm hug.
She hears Matt's half-whispered scolding as he's still holding onto the man. “You rat. I thought you were half-way across town!”
“I do have to keep you on your toes, don't I?”
Maggie melts at the dulcet British accent, and she vows then and there to move to London or New Delhi and meet some fantastic British-Indian woman to have a torrid affair with.
With a quick kiss on the cheek, Matt lets go of his companion, then drags him by the hand back to be introduced. “Mags, this is Doctor Mohinder Suresh. Mohinder, Mags.” This time it's a completely different kind of pride on the man's face, his grin even wider than before.
“Pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Suresh,” she greets him with a firm handshake, noting his long, lithe fingers.
“Likewise, of course. Matthew speaks quite highly of you. And it's Mohinder, please.”
“Yes, of course.”
And suddenly Mohinder's attention sweeps to the side, concern written onto his features in an instant, and Maggie follows the Indian's gaze, finding Matt staring across the room, brow furrowed dangerously, eyes blazing. “What is it?” she asks, knowing the detective's tendency to zero in on trouble at the drop of a hat.
He tips his chin up in a slight nod. “Henrich. He's talking about us. Pretty sure I just saw several unsavory comments pass his lips.”
“Damn,” she swears, voice low as she turns to eye the offending officer, planting her hands on her hips. “Can't we get through one precinct function without that ass hole living up to his reputation? I swear, it's like he knows just who to pick on in any given situation.”
Turning back, she sees Matt's left eye twitch, his expression still hard, and she knows he's probably lip-reading the other officer. Handy skill, she's had to admit on more than one occasion. “You trust me?” he says to Mohinder with a decisive tone.
“When have I not?” the lean scientist replies, the glint of mischief in his own deep mahogany eyes.
Maggie gets the feeling Matt is about to do something momentous. “Should I grab a camera, or a can of Mace?” she quips.
“Both, probably.”
With that, he grabs Mohinder by the wrist, dragging him out to the middle of the room, where the desks have been cleared out, and a particular sprig of shrubbery has been hung from the ceiling in the midst of long swags of sparkling garlands. The crowd of officers and staff almost seems to part to admit them to the center of the open floor.
Staring, Maggie has to hand it to Matt. This is one ballsy move. She almost wishes she did have a camera on hand to capture it.
Matt's leering at Mohinder like the man is a side of beef, taking his face in his hands. His head dips, and the resulting kiss is the most sensual thing Maggie thinks she's seen in years. To hell with orientation, she feels heat rising up the sides of her face just watching the display, Mohinder's hands around Matt's waist slipping lower, until he's practically squeezing his backside, tongues swirling between their mouths. She thinks for a moment that she might need new panties after this, it's so... hot.
Swallowing and tearing her gaze away from her friend and his man, she registers Molly off to one side, rolling her eyes dramatically at her dads as she stuffs a piece of cheese in her mouth, the surrounding officers and staff suddenly catching sight of the kiss themselves. A rustling whisper turns into a murmur of encouragement, and finally into a fully-orchestral arrangement of cat-calls, whistles, and applause.
Maggie can't help grinning at it; having confirmation that the majority of the precinct has been warming up to the idea of openly gay officers serving the force is a great feeling. It's something she and Matt have been working hard towards achieving.
When her gaze lands on Henrich, Ortiz, and the rest of the 'testosterone patrol', she makes note of their shocked, offended, and otherwise intolerant expressions. Giving them her hardest glare, she waits to see what they'll do. If they're smart, they'll back down, say nothing, and the precinct can get back to making fools of themselves on the liquored-up punch. If they're not... well, she's ready to run interference, and has every reason now to believe the rest of the precinct will back her up.
Meanwhile, Matt and Mohinder still haven't parted, their faces seemingly sealed together, hands getting even more friendly, the Indian's caramel fingers twining into dark hair and ghosting across the pale skin of Matt's neck. Maggie almost wants to feel a little embarrassed for them as it goes on, but she finds she just can't. They just look too damn happy about it, smiling into the kiss and eagerly pressing themselves together.
Finally, after what looks to be about two whole minutes of lip-lock, Matt and Mohinder beak apart, nearly gasping for breath. The attention of the room slips away from them, and the Lieutenant watches Ortiz start to come forward, anger and pure hatred written on his face. She reaches for her Mace instinctively, hand poised over the catch on her belt, until Henrich and another officer grab his arms, pulling him back. Henrich waves a hand, looking agitated as he whispers something in Ortiz's ear.
It takes a while for the Hispanic officer to back down, and when he does, Maggie relaxes. All she can do is hope that the bastards might be getting the clue that they can't do anything about Parkman's relationship status.
When the men disperse at last, she seeks out Matt to go congratulate him. And maybe to have some people to hang out with during the remainder of the party. Cleaning her service weapon can wait until tomorrow; spiked punch and 'testosterone patrol' aside, this is finally looking like it could be an interesting precinct event after all.
* * * * *