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Summary
Swansea shifted beneath him, clearly not entirely sure how to respond. “What do ya want from me, kid?” He paused, and then, “Don’t tell me; your parents were dirt poor growing up and you never got to sit on ol’ Santa’s lap, is that it?”
“Quite the opposite, actually.” Daisuke responded, pulling his knees up so that his weight was supported almost entirely by the man beneath him. “My parents are loaded. Christmas was always a public fuss of gifts and parties and pictures. I always got whatever I asked for.” He turned to look at Swansea from beneath the brim of his comically large, green hat. Despite the atrocious costume, he looked… good. Dangerously so.
“Is that not the case now?” Swansea asked.
“You tell me.” He hummed, expression never wavering. “Do I get what I need- and I do need it- or haven’t I been good enough this year?”Daisuke has a crush on a mall Santa