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The mafia holds Christmas parties sometimes, and sometimes it doesn’t.
Last year, they had organized one — an extravagant Christmas Eve party, on the highest floor of a luxurious hotel, with an especially magnificent view of the city covered in snow. The preparations took a lot of money out of the budget and even more helping hands that were needed to actually put everything together.
In the end, Mori had no idea how it turned out; he obviously wouldn’t know if he didn’t attend it.
The sound of his boots on the tiled floor of his office is relaxing, especially after he had to endure the unpleasant creaking of snow for most of the evening. Going out in winter was particularly troublesome, not only because of the omnipresent snow that often created difficulties with communication around the city, but also because of the fact that it affected all of his senses in all the wrong ways.
It’s late, and it’s Christmas Eve, so naturally, the Port Mafia building is almost empty, save for the minimum, albeit sufficient security. Mori’s elevator ride all the way to the penthouse was pleasantly desolate, and it also came with another advantage; it wasn’t that awkward to carry the giant bouquet that he just picked up on his little trip.
He once again checks if the door to his office is locked — just a safety precaution — and after discovering that it is, he carefully places the flowers on his desk. Obviously, he knew that a hundred and one roses would be difficult to transport, yet still, he can’t suppress the quiet sigh of relief when they finally leave his arms. In the meantime, he takes off his coat and scarf and places it on the chair, leaning forward to pull two small boxes out of a drawer in his desk.
A small smirk appears on Mori’s face as he puts them into his pocket and grabs the bouquet again, ready to step into the apartment.
For a while, he has to guide himself through the dark, as he definitely wouldn’t like to startle his objective by turning on the light. Either way, the lamp on the nightstand by the bed provides just enough illumination for him to reach it without much difficulty.
And then, comes the nicest, most awaited part of the evening.
Surprisingly, Kouyou opens her eyes as soon as he approaches the bed and bends down a little to reach her level. For a second, a small wave of guilt overcomes Mori’s insides because of the fact that he may just have woken her up, and it’s not particularly wise to do so when she’s so sick. Fortunately, it disappears as soon as she notices his full silhouette and instantly lifts herself off the mattress, doing it more vigorously than anything for the last two days.
“Am I still delirious?” the woman asks, still in a weak voice, although the way she regained some of her usual strength makes Mori think that she might actually be feeling better; with his free hand, although it’s difficult to hold the bouquet in one, he brings a gentle palm to her forehead and cheek and smiles.
“Still warm, but it’s better than in the morning. The medicine must be finally working,” he comments. Maybe the measurement lacks precision, but the use of his hand is enough to confirm that Kouyou’s suffering would definitely end soon.
“So I’m not,” is the conclusion, and she sits up, raising an eyebrow at the roses obscuring their view of each other. The way she looks so stunned is actually quite adorable, so Mori lets a small chuckle escape his mouth.
“Merry Christmas,” he explains in a short and sweet manner, handing her the bouquet while leaning forward and pressing a small kiss to her cheek. A flush instantly appears on her face, and although her slower than usual response is definitely caused by the sickness, the man cannot suppress the thought that it’s cute. Kouyou accepts the roses with visible shock, albeit also a spark of happiness in her clouded red eyes that perhaps makes Mori’s heart flutter a little.
Before he manages to pull out the other two presents, the woman places the flowers on the bed next to her and throws herself at him. It can be felt quite clearly that she lacks her usual strength and her movements are a little slower and less firm, but it’s indisputably his Kouyou.
“I figured that you wouldn’t like to spend Christmas Eve sick and in bed,” he whispers into her ear while she wraps her arms tightly around his neck for a good while. “So I got you something.”
Holding her around the waist gently with one arm, he carefully takes out the two boxes out of his pocket. Kouyou doesn’t seem to notice this, too immersed in their current embrace (was it a quiet sniff that he just heard next to his ear?) and as a result, he has to nudge her gently to make her pull away a little, with a confused expression.
Conveniently, the packaging is small enough to fit on one of his palms; the woman glances at the two red boxes tied up with a black, sateen ribbon and finished up with a neat bow, then at him with a suspicious look.
“You’re crazy,” she points out with a slight frown and Mori chuckles proudly again. To be fair, it’s somewhat funny that Kouyou just assumed she wouldn’t be getting anything this year due to being so sick.
Or maybe it was rather worrying, actually — was he doing a bad job? Indeed, he didn’t have as many opportunities to go out shopping for the last month, but that was just because of Christmas approaching. Perhaps he should have put more effort into it; he wouldn’t like her to forget about his habit of randomly buying her things simply because they reminded him of her. To think about it now, did it perhaps diminish the value of tonight’s gift? Shouldn’t he get her more, now that he had an actual occasion?
Mori’s thoughts are interrupted by Kouyou’s short gasp that echoes inside their bedroom as soon as she opens the first box.
Inside, on a black plush, lies a pair of small earrings. In comparison to both of their palms, they seem tiny, so the man winces instinctively that perhaps the gift is indeed too modest — but the sensation disappears as soon as he notices the shock on her face.
“Ougai!” she yelps almost breathlessly, bringing the box closer to her, as if unable to believe what she’s seeing right now. The earrings are small, circle-shaped, each with a one large ruby in the middle and adorned with a single row of diamonds on the exterior.
The flush on her face grew slightly bigger, and maybe it should be worrying to an extent, but as for now, Mori decides to blame it on the excitement, just because it’s adorable. Her shocked, but undoubtedly overjoyed expression is pleasant to look at on its own.
“Open up the other one,” he encourages her, waiting before making the final comment about it, and she reaches for the smaller of the boxes with shaky hands. “Don’t be so nervous, it won’t explode,” he chuckles quietly as her fingers maneuver to untie the bow, even though the woman shoots him a reprimanding glare.
As Kouyou removes the lid, her face once again lightens up with both shock and joy. Both gifts linger in his palm and he has to hold them firmly, because the woman throws her whole body on him and embraces his neck so tightly that he almost can’t breathe, yet Mori accepts it with a satisfied smile.
“You’re crazy,” she repeats once again this evening into his ear, burying her own face in his neck. Her grip on him is pleasantly strong — it’s nice to know that she regained at least some of her strength thanks to him — and it seems that she somewhat discreetly wipes her tears on his white shirt. “Utterly insane,” Kouyou adds, and while her voice has a slight hint of a sob in it, Mori knows that both the earrings and the matching ring must satisfy her.
“You said it was pretty,” he whispers into her ear and rubs her back gently with his free hand. “That collection.”
“Tiffany Soleste,” she corrects him about the name of the design, and he just smiles. “You know that you don’t have to get me every single thing that I consider pretty, right?” Kouyou jokes, raising her hand up to brush his hair out of his face and giving him a playful eye roll.
“Sorry, I don’t think I caught that one,” Mori shakes his head with fake confusion on his face and then chuckles again along with her. “And I thought it would fit you.”
That seems to hit her even more, because after a moment, Kouyou’s eyes look watery again; a single tear falls from her right eye, and the man manages to wipe it with his thumb just in time, due to the fact that he has been staring at her mindlessly for a while.
Even like this, after a few days of lying in bed with a high fever, in her nightgown and with her hair messy, Kouyou looks like a divine creature out of this world; especially with the smile he brought to her face. For a few seconds, Mori wonders if there is a chance that she isn’t actually real, because how is it possible that someone so beautiful could coexist with ordinary people such as him?
“I didn’t get you anything,” she confesses after a few seconds of simply staring at each other, still with small tears in her eyes, but now also a hint of guilt in her tone. “I was about to, but then I got sick, and—”
“I know,” Mori nods with peaceful understanding on his face. He knows it very well — he sat with her throughout her worst fever and even guarded her in her sleep, changing the cold compress on her forehead so that she could have an undisturbed moment of respite. He handed some work over to Chuuya so that he could take care of her and even canceled the official Christmas party because there was no one that could watch over the planning. “You don’t have to get me anything,” he assures, gently stroking her back again.
“Don’t,” Kouyou warns him with a glare, and pats his cheek with her palm lightly, as if scolding him, but it comes out quite funny as a result. “As soon as I can get out of here, I’m going shopping.”
“Alright, alright.” He doesn’t have the heart to argue with her, so he instinctively wraps his arms around her and presses a small kiss to her temple. “Maybe we can go out for New Year’s Eve.”
“Weren’t you planning a party for the mafia this year as well?” she questions, resting her head on his chest. They stay in such a peaceful position for a while, before Kouyou tugs on his shirt a bit and pulls him in the direction of the bed. And who is Mori to deny her anything when she looks like this?
“Parties are boring,” he mutters, and soon after, they’re in bed together, even though he’s still in his work attire; Kouyou opens her gifts once again and stares at them, caressing the petals of the roses in the bouquet from time to time. Mori reaches out for the ring to put it on her finger; it obviously looks beautiful on her hand, even despite the not-so-perfect state of her nails. “I’d rather take you somewhere.”
The woman gives him a meaningful look and he smiles again. It’s usually weird to see him smile so often, but when they’re alone on the highest floor of the Port Mafia building, it’s become somewhat of a very common occurrence.
Besides, she’s visibly feeling better. It’s a great reason to be pleased.
Careful not to damage the flowers, Mori grabs the nearby blanket and pulls it closer to cover Kouyou with it; despite everything, it’s better to be careful. The fever might not be as severe as earlier, but she should still watch out, drink a lot (that part was assured by a cup and some water bottles by the nightstand) and keep herself warm at all times.
Kouyou lets out a long, quiet sigh, but understands that any attempts of protest are futile. Instead, she stares at his lips for a longer while.
Obviously, Mori understands, leans forward and kisses her, much to her surprise.
“And what if you get sick too?” she whispers with a frown and a bit of worry in her voice.
The man just shrugs, wrapping an arm around her waist and bringing her closer.
“Merry Christmas,” he says again with a smirk.