Chapter Text
Christmas day starts bright, but not early.
Mikuni squints into the white winter sun as its beams make their way through the gaps in his curtains, painting glittering patterns on his bedroom floor. He does not make a habit of sleeping in, but there are times, such as this, when he feels an exception is allowed. He nestles deeper into his blankets and pillows, and smiles at the quiet sounds of shuffling he can hear from the other room.
There’s no point in keeping track of time on a day that won’t consist of much more than lounging about, but it cannot be more than ten minutes later that the bedroom door creaks open and Jeje sticks his pretty nose inside. He squints at the bright spots on the floor, obviously irritated, and makes a show of skirting around them as he makes his way over to his Eve.
“Santa was here,” He informs him, stiffly, looming over the bed more like a demon in old books of myth than a gold-locked angel singing Christmas cheer.
He does this every year; and every year, without fail, the words pull a burst of laughter from Mikuni. “I’ll be right there,” He says. The world beyond his bed is dreadfully cold so Jeje quickly hands him thick pants and a beloved but gaudy Christmas sweater, which he holds like one would hold a sample of contagious phlegm.
In Alicein mansion Santa used to come in the evening, making a big drama out of hauling around a large bag of gifts and tossing his white plastic curls. Mikuni likes to think that Lily never had him completely fooled, though it would be more romantic to accept his assertions that he did. Still, he misses it at times. There was something fun about the absurdity of it all.
When he first celebrated Christmas after leaving – years after the fact, once he didn’t feel like pretending to be too busy for such festivities anymore – he bought a cheap santa suit and gave it to Jeje, who tossed it to the nearest couch with a muttered but nonetheless irritated “absolutely not”. It was a joke and it got the reaction he hoped for. Mikuni remembers chuckling and forgetting about it, and then he remembers Jeje’s huge form hovering over him in the morning to deliver news of Santa’s overnight visit. He must have fallen out of bed laughing that day. Then he made coffee for them both and went to open his presents, neatly wrapped and stacked beneath the one string of Christmas lights they had back then.
Today he makes hot chocolate instead, and pours it into the mugs that Dodo got them last year (boasting “no Christmas before coffee” and surviving in their household solely out of spite). He sets them down by the Christmas tree they hauled in a week ago, almost matching his sweater in gaudiness mostly because it was decorated by four different people, and opens a package of store-bought but no less festive cookies.
“What do you think,” He says as he reaches for the first package, still wrapped neatly as ever – but what else can he expect from Jeje’s hands? “Did Lily ever come clean to Misono?”
“Nothing to come clean about,” Jeje mutters, throwing Mikuni a pointed look as he settles behind him on the couch.
“Right, right.”
The wrapping paper reveals a smooth leather book case; a first edition that Mikuni has been griping for weeks about not finding anywhere. He smiles as he traces the gold lettering on the cover.
“I better tell Santa ‘thank you’” He says, and turns to join Jeje on the couch.