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"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."
Soft music filled the apartment, accompanied by the smell of something like cinnamon wafting from the kitchen. You closed the door gently behind you, rubbing numb hands together in hopes of warmth as you used your feet to remove your shoes and kicked them near the door in a way that was semi-orderly.
Your cozy apartment was decked out for Christmas per Satoru's request. Two years ago when you'd spent your first Christmas together, you had been quick to learn that the sorcerer was a holiday fanatic. Something about the time off from work and a surplus of sweets seemed to get to him. On your first Christmas morning together he had literally woken you up by jumping on the bed like a child--before quickly turning back into the 6'3 man that he was and tossing you over his shoulder, just so that he could relocate you in to the living room for presents.
You smiled to yourself at the fond memory as you shrugged your coat off and hung it up in on the coat rack, doing the same with Satoru's, which had some how ended up haphazardly strewn across the back of the couch.
Festive decorations greeted you as you headed deeper into the apartment. In paticular the tree caught your eye, and you paused a moment to consider it, wondering if it was just your imagination or if Satoru had actually added more tinsel since you'd been home that morning. He'd insisted on choosing the largest tree at the tree lot despite the fact that your current apartment was not nearly large enough to accommodate it. The full, fragrant pine gleamed at you from the corner of the living room with its too many lights and odd assortment of ornaments, and you wrinkled your nose when you saw the way the top was bent against the ceiling. How he'd managed to persuade you into this a second time was beyond you.
Shaking it off, you continued your path to the kitchen. Presumably your thick woolen socks had concealed your approach, because Satoru made no move to acknowledge you when you stepped into the entryway.
Honestly, you were glad to be ignored--the sight before you wasn't something you were treated to every day.
The kitchen was a wreck. Miscellaneous ingredients were spread over every surface, most of them left open or tipped over (or both, in the unfortunate case of the flour). Amidst it all was your boyfriend, his back to you and his head down as he sang along rather loudly to the radio, which now played "Jingle Bell Rock." He wore a casual black long sleeve over the plaid Christmas bottoms you'd bought him for his birthday, which were slung low enough on his hips for your eyes to linger just a moment.
"Baby, It's Cold Outside" started up on the radio as you fished your phone out of your pocket to snap a photo of the chaos. Satoru stooped to open the oven and you wondered briefly what he was baking, but your focus quickly shifted when he stood and began swaying his hips to the song, forcing you to stifle a laugh that would give you away.
Just as you switched your camera so that you could record his dancing, the woman's part of the song started up and he changed his pitch to match hers. You snorted involuntarily at this but quickly muffled it with a hand over your mouth, pressing the record button to capture his ridiculous attempt at feminine vocals.
You felt arms settle loosely around your waist and the weight of a chin resting on your shoulder before you'd even registered that Satoru had vanished from the view of the camera. Your space was filled with the warm scent of cinnamon mixed with his usual cologne, and then by the equally warm sound of his laughter as he removed a hand from your waist to pluck the phone from your grasp.
"I know I'm popular, but you really shouldn't film people without their consent," he purred. One arm remained firmly around your middle to pin you to his chest as he scrolled through the mostly blurry photos you'd snapped of him. Your cheeks burned at being caught, and you were grateful he couldn't see your face from his position over your shoulder.
"I'd be happy to pose for a selfie if you just asked, you know. I'd even sign an autograph for someone as pretty as you. It's not something I do for all of my fans, so consider yourself-"
"You're getting flour on my phone, Satoru," you interrupted, feeling another chuckle reverberate through his chest.
He relinquished the device before releasing you a second after. Spinning around on your heel, you tilted your chin up slightly to face him. He was smiling down at you, eye brows raised expectantly. He always looked at you like that, like he was waiting for you to do something. He needed to be entertained constantly. Sometimes, it drove you crazy.
The sight of his blue eyes was a nice surprise, though; you hadn't noticed with his back to you, but his blindfold was pushed up against his hair, presumably to keep it out of his face while he whipped up whatever he'd been baking. You'd seen his eyes plenty of times by now, but you couldn't help but pause to admire them, your own eyes tracing his long lashes and the endearing crinkle at their corner as he smiled down at you.
"Am I really that pretty?"
You huffed, the spell of admiration broken. "I was more interested in the fact that you've managed to get flour all over yourself, but sure."
He pouted, considering you a moment before bringing his hands up to cup your face. Before you could question the sudden shift or the glint in his eyes he stooped slightly to pull you in for a kiss. He tasted like brown sugar and vanilla and underneath it all, like home, and he wasted no time deepening the connection. Your noise of surprise as he nipped at your lower lip was drowned out by his own deep chuckle into your mouth. His thumb caressed your cheek slightly and your hands flew up to touch him, one burying itself in his shirt and the other connecting to his wrist to steady yourself.
Your eyes fluttered open at the ding of the oven. As quickly as he'd initiated the kiss he ended it, leaving you flushed and notably warmer.
"Now we're matching~" he said smugly as he brushed past you. You turned to watch him reach for an oven mitt, confused at the meaning of his words until the conversation before the kiss occurred to you. Sure enough, a quick check revealed that you now had flour covered cheeks as well, and you groaned.
"Toru," you whined, not as irritated as you'd like to be (it was so damn hard to stay mad at him). You trailed after him into the kitchen, curious about what he'd made. He wore a self satisfied smile as he pulled out a tray of cookies. Once he'd placed them onto the stovetop you took a closer look and found that there may have been an attempt to form them into shapes. You counted a star, a reindeer, and what you dearly hoped was a candy cane that had been severely misshapen at both ends (it was not, in fact, a candy cane).
Satoru nudged you over a bit with his hip, humming along to the radio again as he moved a few things aside on the counter. You didn't understand what he was doing until he patted the cleared space on the countertop, gesturing for you to hop up.
You scowled at him slightly (he always treated you as if your height difference was double what it actually was) but complied, part of you appreciative of the gesture as you scooted back on the counter and realized for the first time how tired your feet had been.
"Those look good," you commented, craning your neck in an attempt to peer around him and see what he was doing to the cookies. He noticed and tutted at you, putting a hand in front of your face.
"Ah ah, no peeking yet, sweetness. They were supposed to be done before you got home, but... ah, whatever. It's a surprise," he explained, only dropping his hand when you huffed in defeat and turned your head the other way.
"Good girl," he added absentmindedly, going back to focus on whatever he was doing. You were irked by the fact that he was using his sensei voice with you, but the praise made your cheeks flush regardless.
You lasted two minutes, maybe three, before your curiosity got the better of you. You pulled out your phone and pretended to text someone. Meanwhile, your eyes slowly slid over to where his large hands were busying themselves over the cookie sheet and you tried again to peek at what he was doing.
Of course, you'd been a bit ambitious thinking you could actually get one over on him--as soon as your eyes wandered he had a firm grip on your chin to tilt your head up and away, eyes glinting with amusement when they met your own.
"Oh come on, why can't I see? This is so unfair," you said, frowning. He ignored you, one hand keeping a firm hold of your chin while the other deftly removed his blindfold-turned-headband in a single smooth motion. White hair spilled over his forehead as he finally released your chin.
"Satoru, you'd better not," you warned, catching on just in time. Your words fell on deaf ears once again as he pulled the black fabric over your eyes. It was a bit large on you but it stayed up enough to obstruct your vision, and apparently he found it satisfactory because after a quick peck to your forehead he returned to what he was doing.
"This is ridiculous!"
"Mhm."
"And since when am I the one that needs parenting around here, anyways?"
"Since you stopped listening and started trying to ruin my surprises," he quipped, poking you once in the arm accusatorially.
You were tempted to remove the blindfold, but regardless of the current circumstances the real child here was still him, and you knew doing so would only prolong the situation.
"You're no fun," is all you said before resigning yourself to silent waiting.
His reply was distracted, but you could hear the smile in it when he said, "I'm plenty fun, sweetheart."
Finally, after what seemed like the longest silence of your life (though it hadn't really been silence, as Satoru's humming had become very enthusiastic at "Frosty the Snowman") the clattering and shuffling to your left stopped.
"Now I know it's hard, but try not to be too amazed," he said, his voice suddenly closer to you. "You can look," he added with enough eagerness to endear him to you despite all his earlier pestering.
You lifted the blindfold, eyes first settling on your boyfriend's grinning face. You dropped your gaze to his hands, which each proudly boasted a single gingerbread figure.
The one on the left was unmistakably Satoru--its little gingerbread face had a thick line of black frosting across it, and a scraggly mess of white had been done above for the hair. The rest was a glob of black frosting for his outfit.
The gingerbread figure in his right hand was more colorful. It didn't take long for you to recognize recreations of your own features and clothing painstakingly drawn on with frosting. It actually didn't look half bad, and it was clear that he'd put effort into it.
"Toru, that's..."
"Incredible? Fit for an art gallery? Worthy of all your praise?"
"I was going to say adorable, but yeah." You shook your head, giggling softly while still admiring his handiwork. "Good job, you dork."
His grin widened. He held the cookies out toward you for you to hold, and as soon as you took them he was on you, hands cupping your face gently.
Eyes full of adoration, he leaned in so that his forehead was pressed against yours, and it was all you could do to keep the gingerbread couple from getting crushed between you.
Your name fell from his lips as softly as the snow, which still coated the world outside like a blanket, the memory of it so far away now that you were in here, warm and safe in his embrace. You let your eyes flutter shut as he moved from your forehead so that his lips were lower, lower, soft and teasing as they brushed against your exposed neck. He took his time moving back up until his lips were at your ear, where they muttered your name once again, the love in his voice enough to make your chest ache. You waited with bated breath, almost able to sense that he had more to say. And he did.
"You've got flour on your face."