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Manfred von Karma despises Christmas. To him, it is simply another work day, filled with sending filthy vermin to prison with his perfect logic. It’s sickening to him that they would decorate the sacred halls of law and order with garish tinsel, paper stars and brightly lit Christmas trees. All December, he could not escape green, red, white… and orange.
“Are you excited for Christmas, Freddie?!” Detective Gant had asked him on December 1st, to which he replied bluntly: “No.”
Ever since he had come to America, Manfred had the unfortunate pleasure of working with the rookie detective, who earned his title just a few months ago. The only thing they really had in common was their age and shared hatred for criminals. At least he knew that Gant was a good person, like him (not that he would ever state that openly). Gant was still immature, getting excited over little things, such as Christmas, like a child!
On Christmas Eve, after another victory and another dangerous was criminal locked (the fiend’s wife and children sobbed as they watched him be sentenced, as if that would change the judge’s mind, the fools!), Manfred was retrieving his scarf from his office, when that orange-clad buffoon, in his flared jeans and tight shirt knocked on the door, entering before Manfred even gave him permission. Instead of his obnoxious grin, he sighed heavily. Somehow, Manfred knew this was going to be more annoying than his usual Christmas talk.
“Hello, Freddie… Are you off to Germany for the holidays?” Gant forced a smile.
“No. I’m staying at the property I bought over here.” Manfred said, tying his navy blue scarf around his neck. “There is no point going home for a few days, I have a case straight after Christmas to work on.”
“Oh… won’t your family miss you?”
“No.” Manfred clicked his briefcase shut.
“…Well, uh, where’s your new place?” Gant rubbed his hands, and Manfred doubted it was due to the weather.
“Why do you care?” The prosecutor decided to get to business.
“…I just got a call about my apartment… see, there’s kinda a bug infestation thing going on right now, so—”
“How unfortunate.” Manfred yawned. He took his coat off the rack.
“So I was wondering if I could stay with you!” Gant smiled.
“What?” Manfred blinked rapidly. “What did you say?”
“Well, I can’t stay in my apartment right now… and I figured, hey, maybe my dear partner, Freddie, will like some company over Christmas!” Gant laughed, clapping his hands together. “So, what do you say, Freddie?”
“No!” Manfred snapped his fingers decisively. “I’m not celebrating Christmas at all, especially with a co-worker!”
“Aw, you still see us as just work buddies?” Gant pouted.
“Even ‘buddies’ is pushing it too far.” Manfred muttered. He slipped on his coat.
“Hmm…” Gant twirled the front strand of his hair. “Our next case is going to be together, you know?”
“Yes. And?” Manfred picked up his briefcase.
“I fear that if I’m not well-rested, that I won’t be able to be of much help in the investigation.” Gant smirked. “And that wouldn’t be good, would it? You want a nice plain sailing case for the last one of the year, don’t you, Freddie?”
“…I suppose so.” Manfred stared into Gant’s hypnotic green eyes. “…Will it be just this one night?”
“Yes, yes, they should be done by tomorrow! Poor guys, working on Christmas day!”
“Good. I don’t see why it’s any different to any other day.” Manfred sighed, walking towards the door. He was going to regret this, wasn’t he? He switched off the lights, and Gant followed along, once again behaving as if it was pure evil to dislike Christmas.
“But Freddie, don’t you Germans love Christmas?!”
“I’m not a representative for the whole of Germany.” Manfred walked quickly, his cane tapping along the hallway, as if he could escape this buffoon. By now, there was hardly anyone around, not that people being nearby would bother the consistently loud Damon Gant.
“Gosh, you’re such a Scrooge! I’m surprised you haven’t said ‘Bah, humbug’ yet!” Gant teased him. “Or maybe you’re more like the Grinch—!”
Manfred stopped, turned and pointed his cane at the human manifestation of annoyance. “I don’t believe it is wise to insult a man who is kindly letting you stay the night.”
That shut him up.
Gant went to grab his stuff from the dingy little box he called an office. It seemed as if he had just taken what he could from his house and shoved it into a suitcase, which was practically about to burst.
“…You are aware that there is that Gatewater Hotel, aren’t you?” Manfred suggested with a smile. “Perhaps you could stay there?”
“No room at the inn, Freddie, I’m afraid!” Gant pulled the suitcase behind him. It seemed to have a broken wheel. “Besides, I’ve not got much money right now…”
“How come? Didn’t you just get paid?” Manfred had no idea what this idiot spent his money on. Probably food, considering the size of him, he thought.
“Ah, well… I guess I splashed the cash a little too much on Christmas presents this year.”
Manfred rolled his eyes. “And who’s fault is that?”
Gant said nothing until they got into the car park, finally humbled. At least Manfred would have a free ride home, the price being his sanity. As soon as they got into the beat up orange jalopy, Gant put on the radio, and some old Christmas song was on, of course, talking about chestnuts and snow and eggnog.
“So, which way is it, Freddie?” Gant drove out of the car park, and required some directions, which Manfred gave in between Gant’s singing. To be fair, he didn’t have a terrible singing voice (but not as good as Manfred), but God, did he have to be that loud?
“Do we have to listen to the radio?” Manfred sighed.
“I thought you liked music!” Gant said, then continued humming along.
“I do. Well, more so when I was younger.”
“Oh, you go on as if you’re really old, sometimes, you know? We’re in our twenties!” Gant reminded him, as if he didn’t already know. “Hey, didn’t you say that you used to sing?”
“What?” Manfred raised an eyebrow. “When did I tell you that?”
“That time we were talking about music, y’know, when we went to the theatre to check out the crime scene. It was a musical that was meant to be happening, and I was like, ‘Hey, you’ve gotta have good lungs to be holding notes in big numbers’—”
“Oh. Yes. I told you about what it’s like to perform…” Manfred didn’t know why he explained that to the detective. It wasn’t really that relevant to anything.
“So, why’d you quit?” Gant asked suddenly. “I mean, I guess you use your voice a lot in the courtroom, I can hear you shouting ‘Objection!’ from outside!”
“I… I only liked to sing alongside my sister’s piano playing.” Manfred looked out the window, spotting Christmas trees in people’s homes, their lights twinkling like the stars above.
“Yeah? Did you ever sing Christmas songs?” Gant asked, after he took a sharp turn, snapping Manfred out of his staring.
“What? Oh, yes.” Manfred felt a dull ache in his throat. “I sang a lot around Christmas.”
Gant was quiet after that, paying attention to the road, and Manfred was thankful for that. These questions made him feel as if he was standing trial.
“That house, there.” Manfred pointed to the gated home, the only one on the street with no decorations.
“Ah. Makes sense.” Gant chuckled as he parked the car, then got out and grabbed his suitcase, as Manfred walked up to the gate. Gant whistled slowly, “You’ve picked a nice place, huh? This street must be filled with some of the richest guys in town! God, how big is your home in Germany?”
“Bigger than this, but I did not buy that. It’s the family manor.” The gate opened, and then Manfred swapped keys to open the front door. “Leave your shoes on the rack.”
“Sure.” Gant did as he was told, dragging in his suitcase behind him. He had a hole in the big toe of his left sock, Manfred noticed. Perhaps he would be glad to receive new socks as a Christmas gift, not that Manfred was seriously considering buying him some.
“Woah…” Gant wandered into the spacious living room. There was a TV (though Manfred didn’t really care for American television shows), a large cream rug, a grand piano, wooden floors, and a fireplace. “I could fit my whole apartment in this room!” He stood in front of the grandfather clock in awe. “How many rooms do you have?”
“Not that many. The house looks bigger outside than it is inside.” Manfred hung up his coat and yawned. “It is sufficient for me."
“For you?!” Gant scoffed. “You could probably raise a whole family in a house like this!” He laughed, and Manfred glanced at the clock.
“I’d best be getting to bed soon.” He said. “You can call up the exterminators tomorrow morning—”
“Oh, but Freddie, surely we can have a few drinks and relax?” Gant plonked himself down on Manfred’s white leather sofa. “After all, it is Christmas!”
Manfred snapped his fingers sharply. “It is Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah, that’s almost Christmas!” Gant retorted.
“‘Almost Christmas’ means it is not Christmas!” Manfred argued.
“…Yeah, well it’s close enough, right? I know you do like wine.” Gant teased him, crossing one leg over the other. “Let’s have a little toast!”
“Fine.” Manfred had a cabinet he kept alcohol in, for when he had guests (this was the first time he’d had any in America) and perhaps for a small solitary celebration for a victory. He pulled out a bottle of red wine that wasn’t particularly expensive, though certainly nicer than whatever Gant kept in his roach-infested hovel, and two glasses.
He grabbed the corkscrew after putting down the bottle and glasses. “I’ll let you do the honours.” He tossed it to Gant, who opened the bottle of wine, the cork releasing with a pop. He poured them each a glass, thankfully not spilling any on the pale carpet.
Gant picked up his glass, “To… uh… Christmas?”
“Damon, are you even Christian?” The thought suddenly occured in his mind.
“Well, you don’t really have to be, do you? I just like the vibes, and the food and the wine! So what if my family don’t celebrate it? I could hardly care about them right now anyway!” He laughed bitterly. “Okay, well, maybe let’s have a toast to us! To all the success we’ve had, and are going to have! To all the criminals we’re gonna send to prison next year… and later this week!”
They raised their classes, clinking them together. Gant downed the glass of wine like a shot.
“Quite nice!” The detective commented.
“You get one glass.” Manfred said, then took another sip of his. He wasn’t really in the mood to drink. “I’m going to the bathroom. You can take your suitcase up from the hallway to the spare room.”
“Alright.” Gant smiled. Manfred knew he’d finish off his glass before coming up, but he didn’t mind. In the bathroom, he took some painkillers from the cabinet for the headache he’d developed in the past hour. Once he was done with his business, he went to his bedroom, about to undress and get into bed.
“Hi, Freddie!”
“Ah!” Manfred exclaimed, caught off guard. “Get out of my bed!” Gant was laying there, arms behind his head, resting on his silk covered pillows, under his thick blue duvet, atop his plush mattress.
“Aw, but it’s so comfy! Makes my bed feel like cardboard.” Gant sighed in relief, letting himself get comfortable.
“This is my room!” Manfred yelled.
“Oh, right! Well, you never gave me any directions, did you?” Gant yawned.
“I…” Manfred recalled that he didn’t. “I do not care, now get out! It’s the room next to this one.” He yanked the covers off of Gant, who was still in his outside clothes, getting his grime all over his bed.
“Aw, but Freddie, that room’s full of boxes and stuff!” Gant whined. It was true that Manfred hadn’t fully unpacked, but surely Gant could just carefully move whatever was in the way? “And there’s no blankets!”
“Be grateful you even have a room to sleep in!” Manfred reminded him.
“Okay, okay, fine!” Gant held his hands up, and got off the bed. He walked over to his open suitcase. “But, before I go, can I give you my Christmas gift now?”
“What?”
“Yeah, I got you a gift!” Gant rooted around in his suitcase.
“You didn’t need to—”
Gant walked up to him with a grin, holding whatever it was behind his back. “Merry Christmas, Freddie!” He lifted up some mistletoe and dangled it in the middle of them. “You know what that means~?”
“Damon—!”
Gant used his other arm to pull Manfred closer, grabbing him by the jabot, and kissed him on the lips. Manfred felt like he was burning alive, but for some reason closed his eyes, and let it happen, allowing Damon’s wine-tasting tongue to press slowly into his mouth, before pulling away sharply. Manfred could feel his cheeks burning red, and struggled to speak.
“W-why did you…” Manfred coughed, as if he could rid himself of Gant’s lingering kiss.
“Oh, uh… Just a little fun Christmas joke?”
“Joke?” Manfred raised an eyebrow.
“Ah, I didn’t know what else to get you, since you dislike Christmas so much, cause, y’know, your sister died near Christmas, right?”
“What?!” Manfred gasped. “Who told you that?!”
“You did, Freddie! Well, not directly, but I figured it out, since I am a detective, you know? You don’t sing anymore because you don’t have her to play with… you said you sang a lot near Christmas too, and you’ve never spoken about your sister in a modern context, so I kinda figured it out. That’s why you don’t like Christmas, isn’t it?”
“Yes…” Manfred felt that same feeling in his throat from earlier, and looked down, away from Gant’s pressing gaze.
“You can play piano too, can’t you?” Gant tilted his head curiously, maming Manfred glance up at him again.
“Not as well as my sister could.”
“I’m pretty good at playing! Maybe… you could sing to something I can play? I know a few Christmas songs… if you want to, of course?” Gant smiled.
“I… I think that would be rather nice, yes.”
With that, the two went back into the living room. Gant touched the piano that Manfred had impulsively bought and never played, and suddenly the room was alive with the melody of ‘O Tannenbaum’, a song with Manfred knew, of course.
There was no snow, no Christmas tree, no family. The fireplace was not lit. He was spending Christmas with an annoying American, who had just kissed him, and yet it had been the most pleasant Christmas Eve he’d experienced since 1960, as the sound of his voice, alongside Gant’s surprisingly talented piano playing, echoed in his new home. It wasn’t a perfect Christmas, but it was the first he’d had in many years where he did not feel alone.