Day 25 ★ Fic by everlind 'Heart' (Part 2) PG-13
25
Heart
by everlind
The snow is packing up really high. Despite all his hardcore exercise routine Shishido can feel the muscles burn in his legs as he plods along. All the little yards and windows reflect sparkling decorations. Left and right fairy lights are strung into bushes and trees, along door frames. With the light powder drifting down from the skies, everything is kinda really pretty.
Just two more days and people all over the world will troop together to spend Christmas Eve together.
Shishido is alright with that. What others get up to is none of his business, as long as he can spend it in peace with Choutarou. He'll make beef casserole and they'll have champagne. A slice of cake, after, on the couch.
And then dessert.
He's smiling just thinking about it, his stomach pooling with anticipatory heat.
As he is approaching home he passes one of the neighbor's houses -Mrs. Yamamoto's door swings wide. Choutarou walks out, holding a plastic container while Mrs. Yamamoto shuffles after him, hair steely gray and eyes wrinkled shut.
Stopping, Shishido watches them converse at the door. Choutarou sees him and for a moment he freezes, like he got caught at something, before waving at him. He looks handsome, still in his clothes from work: a tie and crisply ironed slacks. With his warm coat and curling hair he looks exactly like home. One last bow to Mrs. Yamamoto and then he trots up to Shishido, holding out the box like an offering.
"She gave us cookies!" he says as he slides the container into the bag over his shoulder.
Shishido flaps a hand at Mrs. Yamamoto half-heartedly in acknowledgment. "Correction," he says. "She gave you cookies. If you have an affair with a stack of wrinkles in a dopey kimono I'll hunt you down in the streets like a dog."
Choutarou lightly nudges him. "But having an affair with a hot girl is alright?"
"I'd rip your testicles off," Shishido tells him quite pleasantly. "But seriously, your affiliation with old ladies? Kinda creepy. Just sayin'."
"She's really nice!"
"Yeah," Shishido says, rolling his eyes. "And she's probably convinced I'm either your roommate or a cousin twice removed or something."
This time Choutarou grabs his hand and anchors him to a stop. Shishido turns and looks up at him and just… the world kinda stops. It's snowing: white, delicate filigree dancing down and catching on Choutarou's lashes and the dark fabric of his coat. Out of his peripheral vision the little lights go hazy and wink little glints on the snow crystals, like swaying drops of light under the night sky.
Choutarou's hands are bare -Shishido is wearing his gloves, after all- but they are so warm when they cup his face, they're large and steady and the knowledge of touching him is at the fingertips. It's on his mouth, too, the knowing, when he kisses Shishido. Right there, in the middle of the street. Just leaning in, framing his face, their mouths connected and there's this warmth… warmth all the way into the core of his being, before he pulls back, just a little, and murmurs against the curve of Shishido's cheekbone, "She knows."
And then, after pressing another open-mouthed kiss to Shishido's surprised lips, "I don't care who knows or sees." he says. "You're mine."
Shishido stares at him, shocked.
Choutarou smiles. His fingers glide through his hair, thoughtfully. "You honestly think none of our neighbors know by now? We've lived here for four years."
There's an odd ringing sensation, Shishido keeps looking up and up and up into Choutarou's eyes, and for a moment nothing makes sense.
After a moment, Choutarou kisses his forehead. "It's fine," he says. And then "Let's go home."
***
Not able to shake off the cold bucket of 'neighborly intel' he just received, Shishido decides to forget about the PDA and focus on something else kinda suspect, but possibly less explosive:
"So," he says, as he rummages around in the fridge for a slab of tofu. "What were you doing at Mrs. Yamamoto's anyway?"
There's a pause that is a better spy than an extra pair of eyes would have been.
Choutarou turns towards him, all casually. "Getting those cookies," he says, smiling.
"Ah," Shishido hums. "And you had to go inside for that?"
"She invited me!"
"Of course."
"What… what are you implying?"
"Well," Shishido says, starting to grin. "Either you do have it bad for layers of excess skin or you're up to something."
Choutarou makes a face, his eyes are a little hurt. "I just… I just…" a swallow. Eventually he walks over and opens up a cupboard. The cupboard. It's completely empty. "I figured it was better to… and she's got two cats. So."
There must be something like an idiot of the year award. Shishido would win the shit out of that thing. Dammit.
"I-" he says, reaching.
Choutarou takes his hand. "It's fine. I don't know why I didn't just say-" he stops and looks away, sharply.
Shishido knows why.
He remembers how he cried when Mochi died of old age. He didn't want to talk about it for a long time, after. It's the same with Pancake. He cried once for her, when driving back home from the vet with the stained sweater next to him on the passenger seat. He'd had to pull over. It still hurts, but he's a bit harder than Choutarou on that front, who still goes so terribly quiet when something of hers reminds him -like a statue. While he's not sure that it's a good thing, it helped when he found her, mangled and bleeding from the impact. She'd tried to drag herself home. He never knew who hit her. It didn't matter. He only needed one look to know she was dying and all he could do was try and make it as swift and painless as possible. At the end, she went to sleep in his arms, purring.
She was gone before Choutarou even knew something had happened to her.
It had been the hardest thing ever, to tell him.
He thinks Choutarou worries that it will look as though he's trying to forget. Putting her toys away, removing her bowls from the kitchen and now giving away her food.
Most of all they don't talk much about it because what do you even say? She's gone? She is. Nothing fixes that. And he doesn't want to talk about it, either. She was in pain and it was awful and Shishido made sure to throw the sweater away before Choutarou could see just how much…
"It's alright," Shishido tells him, about the not saying part.
Choutarou's dextrous hands play with Shishido's ring, easing it around and 'round his finger. "You know what I miss most?"
"Yeah," Shishido says. Startled, Choutarou blinks at him. He just looks at him. "The purring."
Eyes gleaming, his partner nods.
"She sounded like a rusty airplane," Shishido adds and smiles. And then murmurs, "It's alright." he uses the hem of his sleeve to touch Choutarou's cheeks.
He thinks he's got an idea.
***
There's no place on earth he can imagine that's as awful to be in so close to Christmas as a department store. Frenzied people race through the gleaming hallways, dozens of shopping bags dangling off both arms. The place is packed. Christmas oozes out of every single particle. Every single shop window is decked out with miniature trees and blimp-like red santa-sans. There's a huge tree in the plaza: the star adorning the peak tickles the belly of the glass dome. Baubles bigger than Shishido's head dangle from the branches. Thousand of tiny fairy lights glitter out from where they are artfully hidden between the green needles. Everything smells strongly of evergreen. In the background, some guy croons about a whaaaaaaaaait christmassuuu.
It's a good thing that they only need to be at the mall for two things.
Which is proving to be testing enough all by itself. Shishido cranes his neck over the shoulder of the woman before him. The employees are red-faced and stressed as they ring up customers as fast as they possibly can. The line is gigantic anyway. Good thing they're not in a hurry.
"Sorry, sweetheart," his mother says, making a face. They're waiting in line to pay for a briefcase his father has had an eye on for a while. It's pretty damn expensive, genuine Italian leather and artfully designed. Shishido offered to pitch in when she told him about it over the phone, so here they are.
Shishido pulls a face at her, "Don't call me sweetheart!" he hisses. "What am I, six?"
She smiles. "You'll always be my baby boy, Ryou-chan."
"Okaa-san!" he says, checking whether anybody heard. His cheeks glow.
His mother laughs out loud, her head going back and her hair cascading down her slender back. Several men look her way, letting their eyes linger appreciatively. Shishido glares at them all and moves closer protectively. Perverts.
"You're so cute when you're embarrassed," she giggles, covering her lips with a hand.
"Stop it!" Shishido says, feeling his head burn as red as Rudolph the Reindeer's nose. "I'm twenty-seven!"
The smile softens, almost wistful around the edges. "That's true. You're an adult now."
Shishido would like to think he has been for a while, but as long as she lays off cooing over him it's cool.
"Sometimes I can't believe how fast it all goes," she goes on musing, eyes far away. "Sho is a father of two. He's married."
Not wanting to look at her just then, Shishido just stares ahead, jaw clenched. It always hurts hearing something that. Like what he has with Choutarou is not the same or something. He's so busy taking instant offense that he starts when she touches his hand. And he's not enough of a pinhead to miss the symbolism of her touching his left hand. His ring.
"I'm really proud of you," she says. "I don't think I've said that recently."
And just like that he melts and knows he'd be wagging his tail if he had one. His mother may be pretty damn annoying and all girly at times, but she rocks his world.
She knows he won't answer so she just chatters along, changing the subject with the sort of casual ease only a female possesses. "How's Choutarou-chan? Is he doing alright?"
Shishido sighs. "He keeps himself strong, but he misses Pancake. I… asked him about getting a new cat bu-"
"I don't think that's a good idea!" his mother interjects, nearly shouting.
"Er," Shishido goes, stunned at her vehement reaction. "I didn't say I would. He said no anyway." He narrows his eyes. "Why?"
"Ah," she begins rummaging in her purse. "Well. It's too soon. Obviously."
"Obviously," Shishido repeats, frowning. "Hey. None of you guys are planning on giving us a cat or anything, right?"
She looks up. Her eyes are huge and beautiful and perfectly guileless. "Of course not!" she says.
"Good," Shishido says, forcibly. "I kinda was afraid… what with your reaction."
"We'd never give you a pet," she says. "That's personal."
Nodding, he lets out an exhale. "Okay," he chuckles. "Don't startle me like that."
His mother changes the subject again, less than skillfully this time. "Doing anything special for your anniversary?"
"Urgh, no," Shishido mutters. "And don't let Atobe tell you otherwise. He's being a meddling asshole. Again."
A graceful hand whops him up the back of his head. "Watch your language!" she says, just like she did when he was a child. Shishido feels just as bad as when he was a child, too. "Keigo cares, Ryou."
Shishido makes gagging motions and cringes when she raises her hand again.
"He just has an… ah, rather sumptuous manner of showing it," she hazards.
Muttering, Shishido thinks that's Atobe's motivations aren't so much about caring as they are about having an opportunity at having yet another party to swan around at.
At long last it is their turn. The clerks box the briefcase and wrap it up expertly, while his mother makes small-talk until they are smiling despite the stress. Shishido will forever marvel just how his mother can be like that, making people smile wherever she goes, drawing them to her like a bright star. By now he's lost count of how many times he's wished he was more like her.
As Shishido pays, he can hear one of the clerks tell his mother: "I hope you and your brother will have wonderful holidays, ma'am."
Opening his mouth, he takes a breath and -closes it. Smiles instead.
After procuring his father's Christmas present they make a valiant attempt at working their way through the massive press of people towards the paper shop to pick up some photos Shishido dropped off earlier. Shishido listens about his mother telling him they'd like to go out to dinner for the holidays with the family and he feels the good glow of knowing that 'the family' includes Choutarou, too.
This isn't a bad place to be in life, Shishido thinks to himself. Nothing's perfect -the relationship with Choutarou's family remains rocky at best (if you even wanna give it that much credit -it's more like a cold war). He wishes he could fix that, but after ten years of trying exactly that he's beginning to think that nothing he can say will make them ever amendable.
But it's good what they have.
Even if they just lost a member of their little 'family'.
There's not quite such a rush of shoppers at the copy shop. Shishido walks in, fishing for the slip of paper with his order number on it -and stops. A dark-haired, tall man at the counter is filing through a stack of photos. Shishido makes a face. What are the goddamn odds.
"Isn't that Oshitari-kun?" his mother says.
"Urgh," is all he's got to say to it.
"Oshitari-kun!" his mother chirrups.
Instantly all males' heads veer towards her.
"Okaa-san," he hisses.
"Ah… S-Shishido-san! Ryou!" Oshitari goes, fumbling with the photos. Which he obviously doesn't want them to see. "What a surprise!"
Shishido makes a grab for them, misses. "Keeping secrets?" he asks.
"Of course not!" Oshitari says, holding his arm out sideways and away from him.
"Then you won't mind if I take a look," his mother says, daintily plucking them out of his hand while Oshitari is holding them out of Shishido's reach.
"I-" Oshitari goes, and then, to Shishido ever lasting glee, goes a bit pink in his cheeks.
High-fiving his mother the both of them huddle together to get a looksee.
The first picture gives Shishido a bit of a pause. It takes him a moment to recognize the man with the dark hair next to Gakuto in the picture is Oshitari. Oshitari, who always has that enviable 'casually groomed' air about him, combined with a great physique, looking like a complete moron. A dorky moron. It's not like it surprises him Gakuto is wearing a pair of Cheshire Cat ears, grinning like a hyena on extra-sparkly crack with his eyes squinted shut. But to see Oshitari 1) without his glasses 2) looking less than glamorous with what seems to be a pimple on the side of his chin 3) grinning rather stupidly and 4) wearing Micky Mouse ears… yeah.
"That your ugly twin you never told us about?" Shishido wonders aloud, trying to keep his face straight. "Looks like he's banging Gakuto behind your back, man."
"Ryou!" his mother chastises, feigning dismay even while he can feel the suppressed giggles shake her body.
The second picture is much the same. They've switched ears. Oshitari is wearing a godawful-ugly, bright blue windbreaker and his face seems kinda smooched as he tries to smile against the wind. The tip of Gakuto's finger is before the lens, blotting out half of his body. A bright amusement park ride is behind him.
He shuffles on to the next.
It's another of Oshitari.
He's hugging Winnie the Poeh.
"Is this… Disneyland?" Shishido goes, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at Oshitari.
Oshitari doesn't answer. Instead he looks anywhere but at them.
Shishido tries, unsuccessfully (alright, he really does't try that hard), to quiet his cackles when his mother exclaims: "That's sooooo cute!"
Yeah, cause that's what every cocky guy like Oshitari wants to hear; cute.
"Aw," Shishido goes. "You're blushing."
Oshitari scowls at him.
This is the best day of Shishido's life.
And it continues to be right up until the last photo. His mother shuffles and makes a polite sort of: "Oh my".
Shishido takes one glance and claps both his hands before her eyes, dropping everything else in the progress. For that one, they must've used the self-timer. And they're still wearing the horrible ears.
Not only that, but his mother just copped an eye-full of Oshitari's junk going into- AUGH.
"Why would you do such a thing!" he demands, shielding his mother's innocent, pure soul from such unholy images. "Fuck. Can't you warn us or anything?"
Oshitari looks mutinous. "Serves you right." he says and Shishido suspects he'd be laughing his sleaze-bucket ass right off if it weren't for the fact that his mother saw the photo, too.
Dear hell, his mother.
Who saw Oshitari's man junk. Going up into- ACK. NO. LALALALAAA~
All she's got to say about it is:
"Not bad."
***
School ends early on the twenty-fourth.
Snow keeps piling up. Shishido wades through it as best as he can. It takes aaaaaages to get anywhere on foot, but he forced Choutarou to take the train to work purely for his own safety (but getting him to wake up earlier to do so is like dealing with a whiny ten year old), so he's doing the same. He just wishes he had a garage to park his motorcycle in, instead of the thick tarp covering it alone. Anyway, he's got time, even if he is sweating within the cocoon of his clothes from attempting to dig his way home after making a stop at the conbini.
At least the champagne will arrive chilled, right?
It's a relief to bash the front door open with his shoulder and dump his burden with a frustrated snarl -there's a heart stopping thunk as the bottle hits the floor, he kinda forgot it was in there. But it doesn't break. He starts shedding layers of clothes, rips his scarf off, claws the knit cap from his head, kicks the heavy-duty boots across the genkan.
Urgh.
The back of shirt is soaked and yet his fingertips are freezing. A shower is in order.
After a welcome hot shower (and a quick clean-up of the genkan -he's not gonna risk blowing Choutarou's mood on Christmas Eve) Shishido plunks his ass down at the kotatsu, scoots close to get all toasty and flips his laptop open so he can check his mail.
With a little stab he remembers how much Pancake loved the kotatsu. They'd even leave it on a low burn at night so she could burrow under it to sleep. And when spring rolled along and it was time to pack it away again she'd wail after her beloved for weeks.
Abruptly the house is emptier than ever. So is his chest.
Dammit.
Ignoring the velvet burn swimming across his eyes, Shishido concentrates on scrolling through his inbox. Something nefarious catches his eye, almost like catching a whiff of something starting to foam with rot in a garbage can.
Sender: Atobe Keigo.
Abruptly he feels only mounting dread. As though handling something potentially explosive, Shishido carefully clicks on it. His jaw his the table.
Hereby you are formally invited to 10 years Silver Anniversary of Shishido Ryou and Ohtori Choutarou
-he skims-
dress code: Silver
-and even more-
Main event: an elaborate speech presented by ore-sama about his significant influence and invaluable guidance in the couple's-
That does it.
That DOES it.
He snarls uncontrollably at his laptop. An error spontaneously pops onto his screen. Then, muttering savagely under his breath he grabs his mobile and calls that stupid, that idiot, that utter dumb piece of-
Atobe doesn't pick up.
Not even when Shishido leaves the most eloquent, colorful and near poetic string of vulgar threats onto his voice mail. Then, for a lack of anything better to destroy, he prints the e-mail off. Rips it into teeny tiny shreds until it resembles confetti. Flushes it through the toilet.
He stomps through the house.
Tries calling Atobe again.
And Kabaji.
Atobe's wife.
His secretary.
The assistant of his secretary.
The assistant of the secretary's assistant.
And finally the assistant of the assistant of the secretary's assistant.
At long last, he takes a deep breath and calls a completely different number, hand shaking with the murderous urge to wring Atobe's skinny little neck.
"Hey," Choutarou says. His voice is warm and pleased. He's always ridiculously delighted when Shishido rings him at work.
"Atobe-" Shishido seethes. "ATOBE!"
"What?"
"Atobe, that… that… Atobe!"
"What? What's happened?" Choutarou raises his voice, sounding genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.
Then again Shishido is so worked up he's starting to get lightheaded. Concern may well be in order, but all he can think about is ripping Atobe's head off and taking a dump down his throat -he'll worry about popping any major vessels after.
"Mail!" he spits, as he clicks 'forward to'. "Check your mail!"
There's some clacking on the keyboard and Choutarou's steady breathing down the line. Shishido's fingernails make gouges into the tabletop as he tries to contain his fury.
A cheerful 'ping!' as the mail appears into Choutarou's inbox. Click click.
"Oh," Choutarou says.
Suddenly he hears yet another voice he's recently had cause to connect to brain-trauma say: "I didn't know you two were celebrating your anniversary."
"I HATE YOU YUUSHI!" Shishido yells so loud it is likely the whole damn building heard him. "YOU AND ATOBE BOTH!"
Choutarou hisses at the volume and then mutters not so discreetly. "We aren't. Don't you have any work to do?"
Some stumbling and then quiet; Oshitari has left.
"I told him!" Shishido growls. "I told him not to! I told him-"
"Ryou," Choutarou says. "Calm down. Make a cheese sandwich. Play some Super Smash Bros Melee. Use Pikachu. You like Pikachu, don't you?"
Shishido blinks. Scratches at his hair. "But… but what about-"
"Leave it to me."
He hangs up.
Bemused, Shishido stares at his mobile.
***
I am terribly sorry about any inconvenience or vexation I may have caused on your part. All preparations have been cancelled.
My apologies.
Keigo.
Wait. What?
Shishido shakes his head, rubs his eyes, takes a deep breath and reads the text again.
Well, fuck.
What unholy, yet uncovered dark powers does Choutarou possess?
***
The cake is delicious. Better than ever. Possibly because Marui didn't spit in it this time around. Or worse.
They eat it on the couch, the both of them smushed into each other's sides. It's actually a little too much to stomp down after dinner, but it'd be criminal to let cake this good go to waste. It's the kind of Christmas Eve they both wanted -at home, just the two of them. The TV is off. The lights in the Christmas tree twinkle on and off in slow bursts, like lazy fireflies. Two glasses of champagne have made him mellow; Shishido leans his head on Choutarou shoulder as he chases crumbs across his plate with the tip of his finger.
Shifting, Choutarou sets his plate aside, cake finished. He smothers a hiccup. "I think I ate too much," he says and moves to put an arm around Shishido's shoulders. A kiss is pressed to the crown of his head. "I hope you don't mind."
"Mind what?" Shishido mumbles, as he hands Choutarou his plate so he can set it aside with the other.
Shoulders rise and fall on a shrug, Shishido's head bops along with the motion. "That we didn't do anything except sit at home eating and drinking."
"Sounds good to me," Shishido says and allows a little smirk. Tipping his head against the side of Choutarou's throat he whispers: "And there's that other thing we can do, also."
"Hm," Choutarou hums, nuzzling.
But he doesn't take him up on his offer. Then again, they've just crammed themselves full of food.
That's okay. The night is young yet and here's that other thing he's got. Rising, Shishido collects the plates and carries them into the kitchen. Fishing around in one of the cabinets, he retrieves the parcel he'd tucked away there after he'd returned from the mall. After filing up their glasses Shishido carefully navigates his way back into the living room, each hand holding a narrow glass flute, the parcel tucked under his armpit.
Choutarou smiles when he sets down the glasses, but blinks when he sees the present. "Ryou…" he goes, failing at hiding his delight. "I thought we'd said not to-"
"Yeah well," Shishido interrupts him, handing it over. The bow is crumpled from being flattened. "It's really something small. More of a… a nicety if you will."
"Thank you," Choutarou says, taking it from him and grinning at it.
It looks kinda shabby, wrapped in brown packing paper and a spare red bow -now lopsided- he dug up at the back of a drawer. But Choutarou delicately pries at the tape, peeling it away without damaging the paper, one by one until he's only got to fold it open.
Shishido almost wants to rip it out of his hands and yank the paper off. It's almost a special kind of torture, even if he knows what's in it.
Long fingers walk the surface through the paper. "Is it a CD?"
"Just open it," Shishido groans. "Moron."
The only retort that gets is Choutarou plucking the ribbon off the paper and sticking it to the center of Shishido's forehead. Cute. Real nice. Shishido frowns and looks up until he glimpses the shiny red star stationed right between his brows. But at least he finally opens the paper and looks inside.
Studying the play of expressions over that familiar face, Shishido thinks he got it right. Choutarou's face contorts, at first, and his mobile fingers move up to touch his cross. His eyes squint, then slide shut. He stays like that for a moment, before giving a little nod and another curve of the lips -a little shaky around the edges.
"Thank you," he manages, hoarse.
It's simple enough. A photo of Pancake, with Choutarou cuddling her against the side of his face. There's no need for sound to know he was listening to her purr.
"I didn't know about this picture," he says, lifting it out of the wrapping and touching the frame thoughtfully.
He doesn't answer. No need to inform Choutarou he's got like a bazillion more random and somewhat sneaky snapshots of him on his mobile phone. Over time, he'll filter out those with Pancake and have them printed. They don't keep an photo album, but they've got a huge box filled with heaps of photos. Shishido writes the date and the occasion on the back of them, when he remembers to. Occasionally he likes rifling through them as they pile over his legs and out on the floor, picking one up at random, looking, before returning it to the box.
"When… when was it taken?" he asks as he fishes blindly for Shishido's hand, almost like he needs something to ground him.
Shishido laces their fingers and lifts Choutarou's hand towards his lips to kiss it. "This summer, I believe," he mumbles vaguely. Actually it was on the twenty-first of August and Pancake had interrupted Choutarou when he was playing on the piano -meowing and scrubbing up against his bare ankles. While Shishido gets cross looks when he does that, the stupid cat gets picked up and petted. Shishido took the photo with an intention to guilt Choutarou later on with it.
They both go quiet. Shishido looks at Pancake's flat, perpetually grumpy face and the blissful look Choutarou had in the picture, even though she must've been about to rattle his ear off with her jagged purring.
Suddenly a car honks right outside their window. Shishido physically jumps. Choutarou springs to his feet, clutching the frame to his chest protectively.
"Onee-chan," he mumbles, as he peeks through the shutters.
Shishido rubs at his face. "Did we forget about something?"
"Uhm," Choutarou goes, looking a bit funny around the edges. He sets the frame down on top of his piano, does a silly little turn in place like a beheaded chicken. "Hot cocoa," he declares.
"… what?"
"I'd like some hot cocoa," Choutarou repeats. "Could you go and make some please?"
"That's gonna disagree with your champagne," he points out.
"Please?"
Narrowing his eyes, Shishido nods. He's acting weird. "You sure that's your onee-san and not Mrs. Yamamoto in skimpy negligee out there, right?"
A light tap to the head is all he receives for that as he tromps by on his way towards the door. The front door slams. Rolling his eyes in return, Shishido gets up and gets ready to heat some milk. Just as he's taken the carton out of the fridge, the front door slams again. Some stumbling. Shishido reaches for a pot. More awkward shuffling and rustling.
Choutarou's tall frame fills up the doorway. And stays there, perfectly still.
Shishido, a bit weirded out, glances at him. "What's up wi… no way."
"Ho ho ho?" Choutarou offers.
A red Santa hat slouches drunkenly on his head.
Shishido throws his head back and laughs. It's the best kind of laughter -out from the depths of his belly, unrestrained. Choutarou looks sheepish and twirls the pompom absentmindedly around his finger. His fair hair is nearly indistinguishable from the furry rim of the hat.
Heaving breath into his lungs, Shishido walks up to him, grabs the lapels of his shirt and hauls him down for a kiss. The lingering, open-mouthed, suggestive kind. "That looks kinda naughty," he tells him, all seriously. "I like it, Mr. Santa-san." He tiptoes for another kiss.
Right that moment there's the oddest noise. Some part of Shishido recognizes it instinctively, a sort of hair-raising awareness, but because it is pulled so out of the context he knows it from he's left with only confusion.
He doesn't move but to open his eyes wide as he stares up into Choutarou's face. Their mouths are a hair's breadth apart and when Choutarou speaks, his lips catch Shishido's. "I got you something, too." His eyes are dark and absolutely gorgeous. There's a kindness there, something Shishido has seen before, but not like this… not ever like this.
Easing down out of his shaky tiptoe Shishido can only stare and not understand. His stomach wraps itself into a tight not.
There's a distinct creak of protesting carton and… -Shishido closes his eyes, hard- scrabbling.
Choutarou's hand drops to the small of his back and he steps aside to free the doorway. "I think you should open it," he says, large hand easing him into the living room.
The living room looks exactly the same as before: the Christmas tree, blazing alight randomly, the two full glasses of champagne on the coffee table. Choutarou's huge, shining piano with it's new addition still on the lid, the open flower of the brown wrapping paper in the middle of the couch.
But there's one thing different. There's a huge box. It sits there, almost kinda smug, in shiny silver packing paper and an enormous light blue bow perched on top. It's the sort that only needs to have the lid lifted to be opened.
And the box?
It moves.
Or, Shishido suspects, the thing inside of it moves.
And yips.
Slowly, almost as if in a dream, he edges over. It feels like this isn't happening to him, he's just watching it unfold. Without looking he knows Choutarou shadows him, knows that he sets his feet exactly where Shishido has. They're good at that, after all. It's their speciality. It feels like he's in slow motion when he kneels down before the box.
Sensing a presence nearby, there's an enthusiastic snuffling on the inside. The box wobbles precariously.
"Open up." Choutarou says.
Shishido lifts his hands, then drops them. His head buzzes. He lifts them again. They grind to a stop not even halfway there. "I can't." he groans. "I can't."
A warm body leans against his back. Choutarou's warm breath ghosts against his cheek as he says, "Here," and his hands cup over Shishido's to help him.
Together they lift the lid.
To be continued...