Doff We Now Our Gay Apparel

"You can't put that there."

"Why not?"

"Because it's green."

"So?"

"So it clashes."

"With what?"

"With what? With everything!"

"Show me where it clashes."

"..."

"Ha!"

"There. And...and over there, see, see that blue? It doesn't work."

"It's a Christmas decoration. It's not supposed to work. It's supposed to be joyous." Sean looked so deeply perturbed about the fact that he'd just uttered the word joyous that Tony had to laugh...and then quickly turn the laugh into a cough, so not as to ruffle his boyfriend's feathers further.

"Fine. Put the damn garland there," he said, pouring them both another glass of the liberally spiked eggnog. "Seriously, you're gay. You'd think you'd know something about interior design."

Sean hammered in a nail with his usual excessive ferocity and ducked the tiny chips of paint and plaster that resulted. "Sorry, Martha, I wasn't there when God was handing out the genes that let you match your pillow shams with your window treatments. I was over on the other line getting a penis."

Tony's lips quirked against the rim of his glass. "Lucky me," he murmured.

"Nympho," Sean said with what for him was fondness, draping the garland ineffectively over the uneven nails.

"You love it." Tony cocked his head to the side with an appraising look. "That's not straight."

Sean looked haughty. "Then it's in keeping with the apartment's theme, now, isn't it?" Now Tony really did laugh. "Okay. Let's put the balls on the tree."

Sean looked stern. "I told you to stop making those jokes. Like, weeks ago."

"You don't throw out good material."

"You don't throw out any material."

"At least I throw some things out. Unlike you and that—"

"Don't start on the jeans."

"They're bad jeans."

"They're kickass jeans and you know it."

"They have holes I can put my leg through."

"That's the way jeans work, moron."

"If those jeans were a dog, you would've put it out of its misery years ago."

"That doesn't even make sense. Jeans are nothing like a dog."

"You know you're cute when you're hopelessly irritated?"

Sean scowled. "Don't call me cute," he said darkly.

Tony grinned. "Aw, precious wittle Spotty-Wotty is cranky," he cooed, using Sean's old nickname for maximum effect.

"I'm warning you, Higgins..." Sean shook the hammer threateningly.

"I'll keep that in mind," Tony said, rooting through the bag containing the rest of the Christmas decorations.

"Are we almost done here?" Sean asked petulantly. "I feel like I'm in a claymation movie, and it's making me nauseous. My elfy skills only go so far."

"Hermey wants to be a dentist, huh?" Tony said distractedly. "Keep your shirt on." He paused thoughtfully. "Or, you know, don't. I just want to hang up one last thing." He tossed it at Sean, who caught it expertly and then, upon getting a better look at it, raised an eyebrow and held the green and red clump at arm's length.

"Mistletoe? What is this, White Christmas?"

Tony nodded, a lascivious smile playing around his mouth. "Yep. Pucker up, Bing."

Back.