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Christmas would be a holiday he might love, if it weren’t for the fact that ever since he could remember, he had always been alone. He decorated his room with ornaments that shimmered in the glow of the city lights, placing a small tree near his window, hoping it might make it easier for presents to arrive.
They never did—but that never stopped him from keeping the Christmas spirit alive.
During his teenage years, he finally experienced what it meant to belong somewhere. He had friends he could trust, people to spend time with, and for the first time, his tree began to fill with gifts. Even so, Christmas itself remained a lonely day. No matter how much affection he received in the days leading up to it, Christmas Eve was meant to be spent with family. So Sakura would bring him a portion of her family’s Christmas dinner and hug him before leaving. He would walk through the illuminated streets, nostalgic music playing all around, until he reached his empty apartment.
More than pitying his own situation, he felt sorrow thinking that Sasuke was probably spending Christmas Eve alone as well. He wondered what he was doing, whether he had eaten, whether he had received any gifts. Shyly, Naruto had been saving presents for him every Christmas since he left. They were nothing extravagant—his meager salary didn’t allow for that—but small things he thought Sasuke might enjoy: kunai he borrowed during training sessions with Jiraiya, explosive tags, even food. For a while, he tried saving onigiri for him, hoping to give them to him later, but after a couple of days they spoiled, so he resorted to writing vouchers for onigiri instead. Once, he even commissioned a drawing from Sai—but he ended up liking it so much that he kept it for himself.
After the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, the reconstruction of Konoha brought people closer together. There were activities in the plazas, and sometimes he spent Christmas outside, surrounded by others who had thought the same. He helped neighbors cook and organize communal dinners for anyone who wanted to join.
Sasuke, however, had left as quickly as he had returned. After all the crimes he had been charged with—charges that, admittedly, had their reasons—he served a prison sentence, which Naruto visited frequently. He talked to him about what was happening in Konoha and brought him books to help pass the time. Naruto knew that behind that serious expression there was gratitude; whenever he entered the facility, he could see Sasuke’s eyes soften.
That Christmas, while Sasuke was imprisoned, Naruto was sent on a mission outside Konoha. He’d wanted to punch Kakashi when he was assigned to it, but he couldn’t refuse. Before leaving, he went to drop off a gift for Sasuke, but when he arrived, Sasuke was fast asleep. So he left it with a guard and departed for his mission.
When Naruto returned, Sasuke had already been released from confinement and sent on a journey of atonement. Kakashi said something about protecting Konoha from the shadows, but all Naruto heard was Sasuke is alone again.
During those years, Naruto sent letter after letter, updating him on everything happening in the village. Sometimes he allowed himself to write about how much he wished Sasuke would come back, to make up for all the time he’d been gone. And even though he never received a reply, he knew Sasuke was reading them—that they kept him company during his solitary travels.
After three years of Sasuke’s journey, Naruto had accepted that Sasuke might never return to the village permanently. Still, he dreamed of the day Sasuke would walk through Konoha’s great gates, a bag slung over his shoulder, just to spend at least one Christmas together.
This was the fourth Christmas since the war. Naruto had decorated his room a few days earlier, and Shikamaru had given him a larger Christmas tree to place beside his bed. The day before, he’d sent Sasuke a letter wishing him a Merry Christmas—again, with no expectation of a reply—and beneath the note he added, I hope we can spend one together someday.
He placed the gifts he’d received throughout the afternoon from villagers and friends under the tree and decided to prepare a proper dinner. His salary had improved significantly as a jōnin, so he could finally afford enough food to eat well.
For some reason, he felt compelled to make okaka onigiri—Sasuke’s favorite. They weren’t pretty, but they smelled heavenly. He sat by his bedroom window with the plate in hand, gazing at the sky as he ate. Snow began to fall slowly, dusting his balcony and frosting the glass. Some children from Konoha spotted him and invited him to a snowball fight. He jumped out the window, still in his pajamas and wearing a high-collared coat, to play with them.
After a fierce battle, his nose began to freeze from the cold, making him sneeze. He surrendered, earning a chorus of boos from the kids. He went back inside his apartment—now chilly from the open window—lit the fire, and sat by the small fireplace. There were still two hours until midnight, so he decided a short nap by the fire wouldn’t hurt. He’d wake up with the bells and open his presents.
Clutching an old blanket, he rested his head against the nearest wall and closed his eyes. Maybe if he slept long enough, he’d wake up to a Christmas with Sasuke.
“Hey.”
“Usuratonkachi.”
He curled deeper into his blanket, chasing warmth that was no longer there.
“How long have you been like this? You’re going to get sick.”
He slowly opened his eyes, vision blurry. He could make out a figure near the fireplace, apparently adding more logs. The dim light illuminated his profile—a tall man wearing clothes unusual for someone from Konoha. Before Naruto could speak, a sneeze jolted him fully awake.
“Too late. You’re already sick,” the man said, moving to the kitchen and setting water to boil. He rummaged through a drawer until he found a towel. “Were you playing in the snow? Your hair’s damp. Are you a child?”
“I’m not sick,” Naruto muttered. “I just… need a loooot of sleep.”
The towel carefully dried his hair, soaking up the remaining moisture. A hand cupped his cheeks. Naruto tried to force his eyes open, but the touch was so gentle he felt like he could fall asleep right there.
“You’re burning up. You’re really the only idiot who manages to get sick on Christmas.”
An arm wrapped around his side, lifting him up. They shuffled a few steps before Naruto was carefully laid on the bed. As the blanket was unwrapped from his body, a chill ran through him.
“Help me get your shirt off.”
“Oh? Didn’t know you wanted to see me naked like this, pervert.”
“You’re drenched in sweat, Usuratonkachi. Raise your arms.”
He obeyed. The shirt peeled away from his body, damp and clinging. A second later, he was dressed in another shirt—one that smelled of citrus and a shampoo that reminded him of someone.
“All your shirts stink. You should wash them as soon as they get dirty,” the man muttered, tucking him back into the blanket. “You’ll wear mine. You’ll have to give it back later.”
“Mmm…” Naruto burrowed into the fabric, inhaling deeply. The other man made an exasperated sound before turning back to the kettle.
He poured a cup of tea and set it on the nightstand, then returned to help Naruto sit up—but Naruto was faster. He grabbed him with both arms and pulled him onto the bed, burying his nose in the man’s neck.
“Sasuke…” he murmured happily.
“Hn.”
“Merry Christmas.” He hugged him tighter. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“…”
Gradually, the tense body atop him relaxed, and Naruto felt Sasuke’s hand clutch faintly at his sleeve.
“Merry Christmas,” Sasuke murmured. “Now sit up. I found some medicine in your drawer.”
“So good to me~” Naruto sing-songed.
He took the medicine, followed by a sip of the bitter tea, sticking out his tongue in disgust before resting his head on Sasuke’s shoulder for comfort. Sasuke allowed it, treating him like a wounded animal. With his good arm, he stroked Naruto’s back slowly, carefully, as if afraid he might break him.
“How are things out there?”
“Boring. I had to sneak in to get here.”
“Did you get my letter?” Naruto asked, turning his face to nestle deeper into Sasuke’s neck. He felt Sasuke tense and smiled in quiet satisfaction.
“I did. You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
Naruto laughed softly and pinched his waist.
“What are you doing, idiot?”
“Making sure you’re really here,” he pinched him again, gentler this time. “I’ve dreamed about this too many times.”
“…”
He slowly turned onto his back, bringing Sasuke with him, holding him close. One hand stroked him softly, the other kept him pressed to his chest.
“So… do you think I’m here or not?”
“Mmm… hard to say.”
Sasuke’s head gradually rested against Naruto’s until he could feel his breath on his temple. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that before Naruto needed to shift because his arm had gone numb.
“Are you hungry?” Sasuke asked.
“A little.” Naruto suddenly jumped up, startling him.
“Hey—don’t do that.”
“I made… onigiri. In the fridge,” he said between sneezes. “I made them before playing in the snow, I swear.”
Sasuke blinked several times before getting up to fetch them. He returned with the plate, where Naruto waited with puppy eyes. Sasuke picked up a misshapen triangular one and took a bite.
“Well?”
“The presentation is terrible,” Sasuke murmured. “But the taste… it’s good.”
Good was an understatement. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something this good.
Naruto’s smile widened. He grabbed one himself, took a bite, laughed softly, then pushed the last one toward Sasuke, who devoured it without hesitation. Naruto watched him like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
A hand reached up and brushed Sasuke’s bangs aside, revealing his Rinnegan. Sasuke looked surprised but didn’t pull away.
“Your hair’s gotten long.”
“Yours seems to have disappeared,” Sasuke replied, wiping his hand before tentatively touching Naruto’s short hair.
“Do you like it?” Naruto asked, leaning into his palm.
“It’s not bad…”
A hand cupped Naruto’s cheek, thumb stroking gently. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes, accentuated by flushed cheeks. He looked like a small child pouting, begging for affection. Naruto’s hand slid to Sasuke’s leg, tracing circles with his thumb. Through the fabric, Sasuke could feel the rough calluses.
“How long are you staying?” Naruto asked, eyes closed.
“I have to leave before dawn. I’m still a war criminal, remember?”
“I wish you’d stay until the end of the year.”
“I can’t…”
“Did you read my letters?”
“Yes.”
“Did you miss me?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Sasuke was never good with words. Silence would be cruel with Naruto this vulnerable, but speaking hurt. So he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Naruto’s cheek.
Naruto froze, eyes wide as full moons. He tentatively grabbed Sasuke’s neck, trying to pull him in for a kiss, but Sasuke covered his mouth.
“You’re sick.”
“That’s true…” Naruto murmured into his hand, pouting before resting his forehead against Sasuke’s.
Pathetic.
Sasuke released him and kissed his lips softly. Afraid he might pull away, Naruto deepened it gently. It wasn’t erotic—it was tender, like saying everything through sealed lips.
They fell back onto the bed, and Naruto fumbled for the blanket, pulling it over them both.
“Stay the night. Please.”
“Yes.”
“Before you leave—whenever that is—I have a stack of gifts for you in my drawer. Please take them and open them when you can.”
“I will.”
“Sasuke…”
“Yes?”
“I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Hn.”
“Sasuke.”
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to call your name.”
“Sasuke…”
“Hm…?”
“Sasuke…”
With the steady rise and fall of Naruto’s hand on his back, sleep overtook them both. Their heartbeats slowly aligned, and Sasuke drifted off.
When Naruto woke up, the bed was empty. He was alone, wrapped in a blanket. His heart sank—December 25th, and the gifts were still piled under the tree. He stumbled over and began opening them in order. His nose still tingled from the cold, so he wiped it with his sleeve.
His sleeve?
He froze. Pulling away from the tree, he examined the shirt carefully.
It wasn’t his.
He smelled it just to be sure, and sighed in relief. He ran to the fridge—the plate of onigiri was gone. In his drawer, Sasuke’s gifts had vanished, replaced by a single letter.
See you next year, Usuratonkachi.
P.S. I missed you. A lot.
Unable to hold it in, Naruto let out a soft, broken sob, burying his face in the shirt.
Was Sasuke Santa Claus…?