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Uruk was hot. There was no such thing as winter. Fuyuki, not so much. The King of Heroes had never so much as seen snow in his original life, but now it littered every inch of the already disgusting ground. That wasn’t the real problem, though…
“K’shhHHHUU!” Gilgamesh rubbed at his nose and shivered despite himself. “Kirei!” he called to the priest, who was currently perfecting the church’s Nativity scene, “When are you going to heat this place? It’s freezing!”
Without looking up from what he was doing, Kirei said, “Heat costs money. As such, I’ll only turn it on when there is reason to. Put on a coat if it bothers you.”
“It is treason to order the king.”
“That was not an order. Merely a suggestion.” Kirei stood from where he was kneeling and observed his work. Determining the creche was sufficient, he moved to his next task of placing the wreaths on the walls. “Also your room is already heated. You could just as well go there.”
Gilgamesh gave an amused scoff. “I’d prefer to watch you decorate for this petty holiday of yours.”
He didn’t say anything to give it away, but Kirei already knew what it was really about.
Lonely.
Of course the king probably didn’t even know it himself, but it was fairly obvious he wanted some company. Despite his god-like superiority complex, Gilgamesh was used to being the center of attention. Now that the Holy Grail War was over and he was but a man, there was no one to admire, worship, or even fear him. For the first time in several thousand years, not a single person was there to hang on his every word.
A few hours later Kirei needed to go to the store. Gilgamesh feigned offhandedness and decided to go with him.
“Are you sure?” Kirei asked as he put his boots on. “It’s even colder out there.”
Gilgamesh glared at him. “Do not mock me. I am perfectly aware of the temperature outside.”
They walked side by side on the road while heading into town. There were several inches of snow below their feet, and even more was still falling.
Kirei looked to his right. Gilgamesh’s cheeks and nose had turned scarlet from the cold. His breath was visible and swirled upwards with each heavy exhale. He appeared to be shivering as well.
Looking back to the road ahead of him, Kirei couldn’t help but relish the king’s discomfort.
“Heh… K’shhHHUH! EhkSSHHH!” Gilgamesh sniffled, then wiped his runny nose on his sleeve when that didn’t work.
“Bless you,” Kirei said, a smirk prying at his face. He took a pack of tissues from his pocket and handed them to the other man.
Gilgamesh took one out and blew his nose. “Disgusting…” he muttered, shoving the dirty tissue back at Kirei. Without really realizing what he was doing, he folded his arms and hunched over for warmth.
Kirei allowed a wicked grin to cross him as he said, “The cold truly does appear to bother you. Would you like to go back?”
“You continue to mock me,” Gilgamesh said with narrowed eyes. “Tell me, Kirei. Do you have a death wish?”
“Of course not, King of Heroes. I am merely concerned for your well-being.” The tease in his voice was insultingly blatant.
"Tch..." Gilgamesh looked angrily at the ground and whispered something about winter and mongrels.
Kirei, temporarily satisfied with the amount of teasing, let him be. He thought nothing of Gilgamesh’s adverse reaction to the cold…
...That is, until they were inside the warm store.
"Hep'shuuu! Ah— HahSHHHH Kishhhu!" Gilgamesh continued to shiver, and the redness of his nose hadn’t let up. “This establishment has failed to properly heat itself,” he said with extreme bitterness. He swiped his hand under his nose and sniffled again. “Freezing…”
Noting his voice crack, Kirei put down the box of cereal he was looking at and said, “It seems like you’re catching a cold.”
“What?” Gilgamesh turned to look at him, seeming more confused than anything.
“It makes sense. It’s flu season, and this is your first winter with a physical body. We’re already here, so we can get some things.” He led Gilgamesh to the medicine aisle and started to fill the basket with supplies.
Meanwhile Gilgamesh was silently staring off into space, like he couldn’t comprehend he had caught some lowly peasant’s disease. It was only when a series of coughs overpowered him did he come back to reality.
Detecting the disgusted glares of other shoppers, Kirei said, “You should cover your mouth before you attract a scene.”
“Do not order the king, mongrel!” He looked at Kirei with a seething anger usually reserved for the lowest pieces of dirt. “Just because I have deemed you more worthy than the rest of this pathetic era does not give you any right to address me in such a way!”
For a long moment Kirei said nothing as he waited for Gilgamesh to calm down. Being sick was making him cranky, and he was already unpleasant to deal with most of the time. At last he said, “I apologize, King of Heroes. We have what we need. I believe it would be best for us to return to the church.”
Gilgamesh sighed. “Yes. I agree.”
They paid and left the store, making their way through the snow which had fallen in the meantime. The journey saw no dialogue from either of them. Just a lot of coughing and nose blowing.
By the time they stepped foot in the church, Gilgamesh had almost gone through an entire new box of tissues. As he was in the midst of another coughing fit, Kirei took the opportunity to place his hand on Gilgamesh’s forehead. “You’re warm,” he said. “Go rest. I’ll bring you what you need."
Kirei didn’t bother to knock. Instead, he pushed the door ajar and peered inside. It was dark—lights out, curtains drawn—and littered everywhere with dirty tissues. Stepping into his Servant’s room, Kirei placed a mug of tea along with cold medicine on the nightstand. He heard rustling from within the pile of blankets. Ignoring it, he turned to leave when he felt a pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. “I’m sorry to have woken you,” he said.
“I shall allow your apology to be accepted this time, Kirei,” Gilgamesh said. His voice had grown hoarse.
“That tea will help your throat,” said Kirei. “And you should take some aspirin for your fever.” He kept walking.
“...Kirei.”
He stopped again.
“When does this holiday of yours begin?”
Knowing Gilgamesh couldn’t see his face, Kirei smirked. His Servant was unbelievably predictable. “Christmas Eve is tonight. I expect I’ll be performing mass all throughout the next day.” He paused. “Anything else?”
“HEHKSHUU!” He sniffled. “Doh.” He sniffled again, harder this time. “No. You are free to leave.”
Fuyuki didn’t have a large Catholic population, but it was decent enough that the church was full. Families, couples, and single men and women were huddled in the pews. Their coats and scarves lay by their sides; Kirei had turned the heat before the first Christmas Eve mass.
He himself stood at the altar, his bible in his hand. “‘An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.’” He read the passages just above a monotone. Midnight mass was just about over, then he had a break for a few hours until the early morning one.
At last it was time for the final prayer. The churchgoers all kneeled. Kirei turned to do so as well when he spotted something in the corner of his eye. If his heart still beat, it would have stopped.
Gilgamesh, still appearing feverish, was leaning against the wall in the doorway connecting the chapel to the house. His normally perfect hair was transformed into a perfect bedhead, and he was dressed as he always slept, naked except for a blanket. He was scowling, though whether it was at Kirei or just in general was unclear.
Once Kirei felt the prayer had gone on long enough, he stood up and said, “Thank you all for coming. Merry Christmas,” and quickly went over to push Gilgamesh out of sight.
Once the door was closed he sighed in annoyance. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. You clearly aren’t thinking straight. I let you do whatever you want to pass the time, but you can’t draw too much attention.”
A hand slammed against the wall next to his head. “Do not talk out of turn,” Gilgamesh said. Though Kirei was taller than him, he leaned in close, staring at him intensely. His eyes were glossed over, and a dark flush was spread across his cheeks. “You might be my Master, but I am your king. It would be wise of you not to forget that.” It seemed much less threatening ending with a sniffle.
“I recommend you return to bed, King of Heroes. You’re very unwell.”
Gilgamesh growled, which turned into a cough. He raised his other hand to the golden circle appearing above it. A small, ornamented dagger fell from the Gate of Babylon and into his hand. “What did you say to me, Mongrel?” he muttered. He raised the dagger to Kirei’s neck. “Because to me, it sounded like a death wish.”
“Gilgamesh,” Kirei said, “do not make me use a command seal. Your fever is getting to your head.”
“Do not...try my patience... any longer…” Gilgamesh dropped the dagger and fell forward onto Kirei’s chest.
Kirei caught him under his arms to prevent him from falling. Frowning, he picked Gilgamesh up bridal-style and began to carry him to his room. His Servant’s eyes were closed, though they appeared to be moving behind their lids.
He placed Gilgamesh’s naked body on his bed and pulled the covers over him.
“Don’t leave…” Gilgamesh said weakly.
“You truly must be delirious. Besides, I wasn’t planning on it. Not after you almost exposed yourself to the churchgoers, in more than one way. I do, however, need to go bring you a wet washcloth. I’ll be right back.”
“Come back soon, Kidu…”
When Kirei returned, Gilgamesh was writhing around in the sheets, panting and groaning.
In a stern voice, Kirei called his name.
Gilgamesh’s eyes opened, wild and scared. He looked at Kirei, wetness in his bottom lashes spilling over in a sight Kirei never thought he’d see.
“You’re alright,” Kirei said. “They can’t hurt either of you anymore.”
His breathing slowed little by little, sometimes catching in his throat as a cough, until at last he closed his eyes again.
Kirei set the bowl of water and ice down, soaked the cloth, and wrung it out. He placed it on Gilgamesh’s forehead, whose facial muscles relaxed at the touch.
Satisfied after watching Gilgamesh’s shaky breathing for several minutes, Kirei pulled up a chair.
Gilgamesh awoke to a throbbing yet otherwise clear head. He reached towards his nightstand grasping for his box of tissues. When his arm couldn’t quite reach, he opened the Gate of Babylon. A beautiful intricate tapestry fell out. He grabbed the gold-lined silk and blew his nose into it, tossing it aside afterward. He then coughed for a bit before finally turning his head.
Kirei lie with his head tilted forward in a chair, not a particularly comfortable one either. He was as still as he always was when he slept. He could pass for dead.
Gilgamesh turned his eye to the clock next. Nine PM, the twenty-fifth. He had slept the whole day.
He recalled Kirei mentioning there being four masses held on Christmas day, not counting the midnight one. Gilgamesh didn’t remember much of his episode the night before, only that Kirei had felt the need to watch over him. Judging by the still-damp cloth on his head, he had been doing that all day in between his services.
As he sat up, Gilgamesh scowled at the feeling of sweat-soaked sheets. He was still dizzy, but not enough to cause him to fall back on his pillow. He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, able to feel the still lingering heat and provide enough pressure to dissipate his headache enough to stand. With another glance at his Master, he left the room.
The first thing Kirei heard when he woke up was noise in the kitchen. He blinked and saw Gilgamesh’s empty bed. He truly must be exhausted. With his training as both a holy executioner and a mage he would have usually woken up to the smallest sound. He stood and rubbed the back of his neck, sore from his sleeping position.
As he entered the kitchen he was greeted by an alien sight. Gilgamesh was cooking. Not only that, he was wearing a pair of Kirei’s pajamas. The pant legs pooled on the floor and the sleeves were bunched up around his wrists.
When Kirei thought he couldn’t be more surprised he spotted just a few ingredients on the counter: doubanjiang, douchi, and tofu.
He couldn’t stop himself. “Were you visited by three ghosts while I slept, King of Heroes?”
Gilgamesh turned from the pan to Kirei. The flush on his cheeks was gone, but the sickly pallor remained. “Hmph. I don’t know what you’re referring to, but I decided to grant you a present for this foolish holiday of yours. You better appreciate a meal your king lowered himself to make.”
Kirei noticed the floor covered with dirty tissues. “I suppose it would be silly to ask if you washed your hands or wore a medical mask?”
“Eh’SHHHU!”
That was definitely a “no”. Well, no matter. Kirei was nowhere near a germaphobe anyway. “Thank you,” he said, and truly meant it. “Sit down. I’ll finish making it.”
Gilgamesh grimaced. “And eat this swill? I cannot smell at the moment but I am not about to embark on the taste.”
Kirei chuckled and said, “You haven’t eaten anything in over twenty four hours, and you need to regain your strength. Besides, the heat will help clear your sinuses.”
The disgusted look on Gilgamesh’s face grew. Nevertheless, for whatever the reason, be it exhaustion, hunger, or simple yielding, he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down.
Their Christmas dinner was prepared much more swiftly now, and soon a large plate of mapo tofu stared them both in the face on the table. If any color had come back to Gilgamesh’s face, it quickly left again.
Picking up his spoon, Kirei savored what was about to be the best present he could have asked for. “Merry Christmas, Gilgamesh,” he said.