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It amused him to no end to see you be so excited about Christmas music.
Of course, you two chatted amicably about music from time to time, but seeing you be so animated about Christmas music was on a whole other level. Apparently it was a industry of it’s own in your time. But when he asked you to play a few songs for him, he almost found something else to do when you shyly blushed and glanced away. But he restrained himself and waited for you.
Once you gained your nerve, you sat next to him at his piano and rested your fingers along the cool white keys. His eyes closed as the different melodies washed over him. Many were familiar, while some were quite different and new. Simple melodies, boisterous lyrics, and renditions you called “jazzy” regaled him, but what captivated him the most when he opened his eyes was your boundless energy. You crooned soulful ballads about the Virgin Mary, belted cheeky lyrics about Grandmothers being assaulted by reindeers, decked the halls and jangled bells, all the while keeping a grin on your face and a sparkle in your eyes.
It wasn’t until you began the first notes of a particular song that your fingers hung still in the air. Curious, he leaned forward to glance at your face. There was a flush creeping across your cheeks again that you tried to hide when you caught him peeking at you.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Ah- it’s nothing. I-I’ll just play something else.”
Mozart’s head tilted a bit as you looked everywhere but his face.
“What’s wrong, it’s not as though you were about to play something naughty-”
He stopped as you visibly flinched, face turning further away as the flush grew darker and began to spill down your neck. A smirk pulled at his lips.
“Play it for me?” he asked in a teasing voice.
Your head whipped around, sputtering and waving your hands as you tried to protest but he simply grinned bigger and leaned closer. You leaned away a bit in your embarrassment, hands flying to cover your face when his hand pressed into your side to keep you from scooting away.
“Please?”
He managed not to laugh at your indignant whine, lest you flee the room, and sat back properly as you turned and faced the keys again. With a deep breath, you began again and began to sing sweetly, albeit with red cheeks:
“ Santa baby-”