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Revy didn’t remember Christmas particularly distinctly. She remembered cold snow, the heating going out one year for several weeks, the strange business of the restaurant located next to the apartment. A banana box of canned goods and dried pasta was dropped off by two older women. The dried pasta was sooner consumed by the roaches and occasional mouse than boiled on the stovetop. A few partially crushed candy canes and other Christmas candies she found, left on an empty street early in the morning from a parade.
And promises of wishes granted and prayers sung in churches, the pity once of a stranger on her when she was particularly young–the woman could not have been particularly rich, but she was kind, sitting with Revy out on her porch, offering a cup of hot chocolate. The taste was sweet, and creamy, and completely memorable at the time. It tasted like a delicacy, and Revy had sat there, almost chugging it at first, the bit of cream sticking to her nose when she finally set the half-finished cup down, looking at the woman. She had run after, but not before the woman had at least managed to get her to warm up a bit.
New Year’s was a much louder affair, with more drinking and the sounds of television from a neighbor and cheering late at night
The 25th approached with the usual dramatics; Rock’s complaints about some fucking restaurant, and Benny’s jabs about how he didn’t celebrate Christmas in the first place, ever. Dutch, the closest to celebrating, bothered with purchasing himself a fancy collection of cigars, a box Revy tossed at him irritably, and was met with a jab from Janet that fell immediately flat about Revy being a scrooge. It wasn’t any kind of proper weather, either, the tropical rain outside.
Revy had gathered together a gift, though, something for Balalaika. In a box and wrapped in tissue, and hidden beneath two small boxes of ammunition in her nightstand drawer. She left early Christmas Eve, stuffing the gift into a brown paper bag. The walk from Lagoon Company to Hotel Moscow’s apartments was almost too long.
She was giddy by the time she was at her door, gripping the rolled part of the bag tightly. She sucked in a breath, glancing down the hallway. The door opened, and she darted in.
“Take off your shoes.”
“I know, I know,” she set down the bag, “One fucking second.”
“What did you bring?”
“I’ll wait, one second, a gift. Fucking shit,” she kicked off the second boot, looking back at her, grabbing it before she could.
“A bit early, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if I can make it up tomorrow,” she said.
Balalaika hummed, thoughtfully. “I was going to wait until New Year’s.” She turned, “I do have something for you.”
“A gift?”
“Yes.”
Revy perked up at the promise of a gift, clutching the bag still, following her. She set it down on the table.
“Wait here.”
Revy fidgeted, waiting for Balalaika to return. She returned with a small bag, pink with white tissue, holding it out. Revy reached, trying to be careful as she dug into the bag, pulling the bits of tissue out under Balalaika’s careful gaze.
A small bottle was produced, soft yellow with a golden cap. No lettering, completely plain. She looked at the bottle, tilting it. “What the fuck is it?”
“Perfume. Here.” She reached for the bottle and pulled up one of Revy’s wrists, stepping closer. She took the cap off, setting it on the table. She took Revy's wrist again, spraying a bit on it. “Smell.”
Revy lifted her wrist higher, smelling it. The fresh spray of perfume was sharp; the scent was warm, woody, unlike anything Balalaika took to wearing. It almost resembled the smell of her cigars before they were smoked, deep and spicey. She released Revy’s wrist, setting the bottle down. "Shit, thanks sis... I didn't expect you to get me something."
"It is a holiday, Revy," she stated, cocking her head, "Of course I would get you something."
“I’ll try to remember to use it... It smells damn good.”
"I hope you will get use of it," Balalaika lightly touched Revy’s other forearm, stepping what seemed impossibly close without brushing their bodies as she reached for the bag, “And what have you brought me?”
She undid the bag, reaching in for the box. Revy swallowed, “It’s not as fancy as what you got me, uh fucking saw it, thought you would like it.”
Balalaika set the bag down, stepping back so she could properly open the box. She opened the box, revealing a cup. She held it by the rim, setting the box down. The cup was quite pretty, a soft pink with a gold, curling handle.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes…” Balalaika’s lips curled back, moving her finger along the edge of it, admiring the ceramic. She looked back at Revy, “It is too bad I do not have the things to make a proper Christmas drink for us both.”
“That’d be nice,” Revy stepped forward, closing the distance again, “Uh, one more thing.”
“Mmm?”
“No fucking mistletoe, but,” she reached up, kissing her. Balalaika pressed back, quick to safely set the cup down beside her as Revy tugged at her eagerly.
“Mistletoe?” she questioned, breaking the kiss first when Revy’s back hit the table-side again, but kept her forehead resting against hers. Revy’s head was practically thrown back from the angle and the height difference. “Tea first…” she reached for the cup again, separating herself from the panting Revy, tugging lightly on the edge of Revy’s shirt, “And then I will finish… unwrapping you.”