Work Text:
The door unlocks with a click. You quickly blow on the doorknob, sure not to leave any trace. Opening the door you walk inside, well more like float, just so you don’t accidentally step on any of the creaking floorboards.
The place is dim, which makes sense, you always come by when everyone is asleep.
Your wings flutter behind you, making a soft flapping sound. They’re light enough to not blow anything away or topple something over.
Just before you can go upstairs, you hear footsteps in the living room. Shit. Was someone still awake? But you checked. You always check.
Before you can hide, you see a tall man peek around the corner. A big, white beard. Impossibly blue eyes—as if sprinkled with fairy dust. Cute little glasses. And most importantly, a Christmas hat on top of his head.
Shit. A parent that's probably placing gifts under the tree for his kid.
You wack your brain on what you can say. Oops, wrong house? Can't. The door was locked. Nice costume. It is Christmas, so seeing a parent dressed as Santa isn't that weird. But how would you explain your own ‘costume’?
The man interrupts before you can utter a word. “Oh, Tooth Fairy. I don't think we've met before.”
You stare dumbfounded at the guy. He just… assumed you’re the Tooth Fairy? Maybe he thinks his wife called a performer in case the kid wakes up.
You awkwardly smile. “No, I don’t think so,” you extend your hand to the man. “Your name is…?”
The man stares dumbfounded at you. After a moment he laughs, a full on belly-laugh. Deep. Genuine. A classic Santa laugh if you ever heard one.
He takes your hand, large fingers wrapping around your own. The white glove is made of satin, incredibly soft against your skin, and you almost compare it to your wings. He shakes your hand once. “Santa Claus.”
A nervous laugh escapes you. Not much to go off off, you just mumble out your name, the one you got before becoming the Tooth Fairy.
You let go of the man's hand. The two of you staring at each other in awkward silence.
Clearing your throat you jab a thumb to the stairs behind you. “Right- sooo, imma go… Y’know collect your kid’s tooth ‘n all. Tell your wife I’ll leave the tooth on the porch—in a baggie of course!”
The man just watches you, blue eyes piercing through your soul. There’s a hint of amusement swirling around in them, and they’re so pretty, you get lost in them for a moment too long.
Clearing your throat, you slowly step back—yes, actually step. You can’t let this stranger know that you can actually fly, and you can just hope that the guy didn’t see you clearly before—before going upstairs, collecting the kid’s tooth.
After placing the money under the pillow, you just awkwardly stand in the room for a moment longer.
With a heavy sigh you creep back downstairs. This is the first time in the many years of you being the Tooth fairy that someone has actually caught you, an uneasy feeling forming in your stomach.
It’s dark downstairs, making you look around a few times before you peek your head into the living room. No more Santa. Huh, weird. You didn’t hear him go upstairs, so where he went you have no idea, but that’s not something you should focus on right now.
Getting out of the house, you leave the bag with the kid’s tooth on the porch, tied off with a little ribbon. The feeling weighs heavy on you, because you’ve never had to do this before.
You were sure everyone was asleep. You’re careful, so incredibly careful. So how did it come to this? To you having to leave a tooth behind. It gleams up at you, a little bloodied still at the root, almost like it’s mocking you for leaving behind something that belongs to you.
Sighing, you rub your face a few times. Your wings flutter behind you slightly, almost as if they are urging you to pick it up and just… take it with you anyway—like you didn’t promise a parent that they would get to keep their kid’s tooth.
Fuck.
Taking a step back, you look at it one more time, think about how the pouch later will feel off, before taking off and going to the next residence that expects your visit for the night.
But even when you’re doing the rest of your shift, you can’t help but think of that one abandoned tooth laying in the cold night air. But there isn’t anything you can do about that right now, is there?
You always forget just how busy the streets of downtown Tokyo are. Luckily your wings only come out at night. People have no regard for personal space. Tourists. Commuters. You name it. They keep brushing against you, not even uttering a sorry.
There’s a prominent scowl on your face. Muttering under your breath about people being rude, you get interrupted. An arm swings around your shoulder. You instantly freeze.
Turning to look at the person who’s touching you, you’re met with a mop of white hair. The guy is tall, incredulously so. Eyes hidden by a pair of shades. He’s grinning down at you, as if the two of you have been friends forever.
Just who is this guy?
“Heyyyy,” the stranger drawls out. “Fancy seeing you here.”
You stare at him. Your instincts say to flee, scream, push his arm off you, but a different part deep inside your brain says he’s harmless.
The two of you are standing still on the sidewalk. People around you are narrowly avoiding you, muttering about how rude it is to stand still in the middle of the sidewalk. You heed them no mind.
“Uhh- hi?” you question. Still thinking about the fact that this random guy just walked up to you and started talking to you. Stranger danger or something.
He just… looks at you for a little, grin still on his face as he assesses you from head to toe. Though you can’t see his eyes, you can feel them.
“I honestly didn’t think I would run into you this soon, but here you are!” He finally says, and it takes everything in you to not fucking bolt right now. Most people don’t even glance twice at the two of you, while there are a few who stare for a bit longer than necessary, wondering what’s going on before continuing with their day.
Luckily you don’t have to say anything, though, because the guy’s smile slips just slightly. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Biting on the inside of your cheek, you shake your head slightly. You have never met this person in your life, if you had, you would’ve remembered—it’s unusual to find someone here who is this tall, has stark white hair and has the prettiest teeth.
They really are pretty, and you can’t help but wonder if they are naturally like that, or if he had some work done. It pains you every time people shave down their natural teeth to get those veneers. You can’t even collect the scraps!
Realising you’re staring at his teeth, you look up at his eyes—shades, really—again. There’s a small crinkle to his nose and a small smile splayed on his lips instead of that smirk he had earlier.
“Didn’t know you also did this as your day-job,” he casually comments as he starts walking, dragging you alongside him. Why on God’s green earth haven’t you pushed him off , walked away yet?
The words catch you off-guard slightly. Day job would imply he would know of your ‘nighttime job’, which no one knows about, so maybe this is just a random guess? “Do what, exactly?”
His steps falter slightly at that, almost as if he didn’t expect you to question him about it. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, and you can finally see a hint of color—blue, incredibly so. Just like you saw last night.
Surely not, right?
“The whole teeth thing. I thought you only collected them.” Okay well, that confirms it. This is the same guy you met last night when he was dressed in a Santa costume.
Thinking back on it, you realise that he was indeed very tall, but it evened out with his proportions.
Wait… this is the guy’s house you practically broke into last night. The father who was setting out presents for his kid to find later that day. The one who saw you break in and only greeted you like it was something normal.
A nervous laugh bubbles up, and it slips out of you before you can clamp it down. “Yeah… I, uhhh, am a dentist!”
You’re not a dentist by a long shot. The only thing you do is collect teeth, you don’t even have a job—if you don’t count being the Tooth fairy as having a job. So you’re lying straight through your teeth right now, and this poor guy doesn’t know any better.
After hearing that, he practically perks up. “Really? I think I have a cavity, think you can maybe look at it some day?”
“Sure,” you force the words out, strained smile on your face as you try to look for an out. “I have to go now though. Y’know, gotta check out teeth to make sure they stay nice and healthy. Have a great—”
“Oh! That reminds me,” the guy cuts in, absolutely ignoring the fact that you’re trying to get away from him. He shoves his hand into his pocket, fingers absolutely digging into it as he tries to find something. A small ‘aha!’ falls from his lips as he holds up a baggie—tied at the top with a ribbon, completely see-through, and in it sits one, tiny teeth. The same baggie you left behind last night.
Your eyes widen as you whip your head around a few times, trying to see if people saw this guy holding up a bag with a random tooth in it. Snatching it out of his hand, you drag him to one of the alleyways. “What is your problem??”
He pouts at that, lower lip jutting out, as his arms hang beside him. Pushing up his shades into the ivory locks, he finally looks at you with those unobstructed eyes, and fuck, if they aren’t pretty.
Nope, nope, nope nope nope. You cannot think that way. This man is married, you know he’s married because you get all the info before entering a residence. Two adults and one kid.
“You left it behind last night, I just wanted to return it to you!” he almost whines? Why is he so hurt over the fact that you find it strange that he would just give you his child’s teeth to you?
Most parents who don’t believe in the Tooth Fairy keep their children’s teeth for sentimental value—something even you couldn’t understand why they would possibly do that. Sure, you take the teeth and give the kid money in return, but you don’t keep the teeth.
So why is this parent trying to give you—a total stranger—his child’s teeth?
“I left it there for you guys, why would you try to give it ‘back’ to me?” your voice is full of confusion. None of this makes any sense to you. First him finding you and being so friendly, as if he’s talking to a friend rather than a stranger that broke into his house, and then him giving you the tooth you purposefully left behind. You even told him you would do that!
“You’re the Tooth Fairy,” he says slowly, confusion starting to creep into his voice. “The one who collects people’s teeth and exchanges money for it.”
“I- huh?”
“Why are you so confused? You’re the literal Tooth Fairy who collects teeth. I saw you last night! You know, me, Santa. The guy with the big white beard and the red costume. I have a shed with reindeer. The one who delivers Christmas presents to people’s houses…”
He starts trailing off when he sees you furrow your brows together. Surely… surely you, the Tooth Fairy, would believe in Santa, wouldn’t you? The two of you have the same type of job, though his is only for one day out of the year whereas yours is every day.
But then again, it would explain why he wouldn’t be able to find your house. Sure, he hasn’t been doing this for many years—his father having died only a few years prior, making it so that he had to take over—but he knows everyone's address, well, everyone who beliefs anyway.
“…You don’t believe in Santa Claus?” His voice is edged with disbelief. “You sprout wings at night and steal children’s teeth, but a man delivering presents is too far for you?”
“Why would I believe in a myth when he never visited my house?” you ask him.
The two of you stare at each other for a while, blue eyes blinking down at you. His smile is long gone, replaced with something sadder. The bag in your hand feels heavier than it should. Clenching your hand around it, you can feel the way the tooth is leaving behind small indents into your skin.
Finally he laughs. It’s one of those laughs that doesn’t have any humour behind it, feeling rather hollow. “Santa isn’t gonna visit your house if you don’t believe in him. It’s the same for the Tooth Fairy, isn’t it?”
That’s something you’ve never thought about before. Of course it made sense to you that you wouldn’t visit people’s houses who don’t believe in you—normally you get a notification of whose tooth has fallen out that day—because they would absolutely freak out if the tooth was somehow gone.
But you never thought about the fact that it might be the same for Santa. Sure, you’ve waited next to your tree, fallen asleep waiting for the big man in red to come by and give you presents, but there was always a small voice in the back of your mind that told you he wasn’t real.
“No wonder I couldn’t find your residence last night. Hah, who would’ve thought? The Tooth Fairy herself doesn’t believe in Santa,” he mutters, not really directed at you.
Then he looks down at you, and you instinctively straighten up. “Even the Easter Bunny believes in Santa! I just… I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you don’t believe in me.”
Huffing, you turn around. There is no way you’re going to stand here and listen to Santa of all people be butt hurt over the fact that you don’t believe in him when he—or whoever came before him—didn’t even come by your house when you did believe.
“Thanks for the tooth,” you call out over your shoulder, waving around the pouch slightly. “Until next time, Santa. Oh, and don’t bother trying to find me, you’re not able to anyway.”
The sun shines down at you when you step out of the alleyway, busy street bustling with commotion. You’re about to disappear, blend in with the crowd, when you hear your name being called out from behind you.
Turning around, you see Santa—you really should get his name—sprint after you, long strides eating up distance in no time. He stops in front of you, smiling like he didn’t just almost cry about the fact that you didn’t believe in him—okay, maybe not cry, but he was still stupidly hurt over the whole thing.
“Why don’t you show me where you live? Y’know, so I can bring you presents next year now that you know I’m real and all of that.” He’s smiling down at you with those pearly whites, as if he isn’t asking you some insane question right now.
Raising your brow, you just stare at him for a little. “You wanna know where I live,” you slowly say. When he nods his head, white hair bobbing with the motion, you continue. “Do you realise how creepy that sounds?”
His smile falters at that, and you can almost see the way the cogs are turning in his head. “…Would it be less creepy if I treated you to some lunch first?”
You’re about to decline, saying that you’re not hungry or form some other excuse, when your stomach decides to betray you. A small rumble can be heard, and he perks up at the sound of it. Sighing, you reluctantly nod. “Well then, don’t just stand around there, lead the way.”
He loops his arm around yours and starts marching, already chattering your ear off about anything and everything, and it takes everything in you not to snap. Sure, it’s nice he gave you the tooth, but you didn’t plan on being out for this long.
Stopping at a small cafe, he ushers you to sit down while he orders for the two of you. You don’t have the energy to argue with him, so you just choose a small table as far away from the window as possible.
Putting your chin in your hand, you being to softly drum your fingers on the table. You should’ve been home by now, going to sleep before you had to do your shift later tonight, but of course you get looped into whatever the fuck this is.
Luckily, Santa doesn’t take too long, coming back with so much stuff, your eyes nearly bulge out of your head when you see it. And it isn’t just a lot of stuff, almost all of it are pastries with the sweetest fillings and toppings imaginable.
“Why would you ever order this much food?” you ask him when he sits down. It’s almost like he perks up at the mention of food—like a fucking dog—head snapping up.
“Oh! I didn’t know what you wanted, so I just chose everything I liked… and then a little bit more,” he isn’t even ashamed to say it, nor has any difficulties to throw away money like that.
Rolling your eyes, you just pick a sandwich up, while Santa is already halfway through a chocolate croissant—how he has scarfed down that much food already is a mystery to you.
“So, what about—”
“Shhhh, no talking during lunch,” you cut him off, closing your eyes as you slowly chew on your sandwich. When you peek one eye open, you see him pout but he mercifully stays quiet. Well, at least he can listen to a simple command. Again, like a dog.
The two of you sit in silence for a little while, before he carefully tries to strike up an conversation yet again. This time you let him, though he still does most of the talking.
At one point you find out his name is Gojo Satoru, and he was kind of flabbergasted that you didn’t know his name. Something about him having a whole toy company under him. That had made you laugh, of course Santa would have a daytime job as the CEO of a toy company.
When you’d asked him if all his employees were also his elves, he had pouted a little, telling you that the elves didn’t like him very much as a boss, so they didn’t want to work for his company during the remainder of the year. That caused you to raise a brow, but you decided not to poke into it too much because he seemed genuinely upset about it, even though he tried to play it off.
After eating your sandwich and one pastry Satoru had hyped up to the point you couldn’t not eat it, the two of you left. Satoru had eaten almost everything else, and you have to wonder how he’s still so lean.
You can feel your eyes start to get heavy the longer you’re awake, considering you haven’t slept yet, but you can’t exactly fall asleep while Gojo is chatting your ear off once more.
“Sooo,” Gojo Santa drawls out. “What do you do with the children's teeth?”
“Sell them on the black market,” you reply deadpan. A yawn escapes you ask you just continue walking. Baby blues are blinking down at you. Once. Twice. An awkward laugh tumbles out of him, not a jolly one this time.
Turning your head, you hold his stare for a few more seconds. You would’ve done more really, but the corner of your lip betrays you. “Kidding, I’ll show you once we get to my house.”
Gojo follows you with a bit more hesitancy in his step now, and it makes you want to laugh once again. Good thing you haven’t told him you’re the one who buys teeth off the black market—they’re a form of currency for you after all.
The busy streets of Tokyo start to get emptier and emptier the more the two of you walk, until you find yourself standing in front of a forest.
“Where even are we?” Gojo mutters, looking around him. It’s a valid question considering the fact that there are no houses nearby.
Smiling, you walk into the forest. “Almost home.”
A bit further down, you crouch next to a tree. Pulling out a different pouch from your pocket, you open it. Fairy dust sparkles up at you, glinting in the light that dares to penetrate through the tree tops. Pulling some of it out, you sprinkle it onto the bark.
You can feel the way Gojo is eyeing you, but you heed it no mind. Stepping back, you watch as the bark transforms into a door. Opening it, you gesture towards Gojo to go inside. “After you.”
“Right, okay then…” He ducks his head to go inside, and you follow not soon after, letting the door close behind you. Gojo jumps a bit at the sound of the door closing, but he starts looking around the room.
Hanging up your jacket, you quickly go to your workstation, bringing out your mortar and pestle. Dumping the tooth in, you quickly begin to crush it. Gojo peeks over your shoulder, hearing the crunch of the little tooth pieces getting ground up.
“Whatcha doing?” he murmurs, eyes transfixed on the way you’re trying to break one of the pieces up, but it clearly doesn’t work. “Let me help.”
Raising a brow, you look at him, but still let go of the tools. He quickly takes over, crushing the pieces in no time. It grinds down to that same glitter you just had in your pouch, which you put onto the workbench.
“It’s uhh, fairy dust. Basically my way of getting into people’s houses,” you explain, tongue peeking out from between your lips as you try to carefully transfer the dust into the pouch. “I was running low.”
“Wait wait wait, let me get this straight. You use the teeth you collect from houses to, what, break into houses to collect more teeth again?”
Swiveling on your chair, you look up at Satoru, who for some reason still hasn’t decided to sit down. “I never said that was all the teeth were used for.” And like the universe could hear you, a small ding grabs both your and Gojo’s attention. “Great timing!”
Walking over to the big press, you open it. Steam comes off, before you can see some bills. “Are you kidding me?! You’re printing money??”
That’s Satoru, who’s watching you in disbelief—his jaw is literally on the floor,eyes full of disbelief as you pull out a steamy fresh yen bill. Holding it out to him, you tilt your head. “Well duh, how else am I gonna pay these kids?”
“By getting a job?! Didn’t you say you were a dentist???”
“Ehhh, I lied about that. Remember, I didn’t think you were the real Santa, but rather a parent whose house I technically broke into the night before.”
Gojo blinks down at you, maybe he’s trying to gauge if you’re joking or not. You’re not. Being the Tooth Fairy is your job. It’s a lot of physical labour—hours of grinding down teeth into stardust, which you either use to make money or get into houses with, it also helps heal your wings whenever they do somehow end up damaged.
“The Tooth Fairy is a criminal. Oh my god, I can’t believe this. I’m in the house of a criminal— wait a minute, do you even pay taxes considering you live inside a tree?” He vaguely gestures around him, but then he finally looks around for the first time.
From the inside you wouldn’t know you’re inside a tree. It’s a normal house, a bit cramped maybe, but normal in the sense that the room is large and square. There’s electricity running, and there are even multiple stories.
It’s just that the room the two of you are in right now is a little odd in the sense that it’s your workspace. It’s filled with machines that look just like the one you opened to pull money from. And of course that workbench of yours.
“Why would I pay taxes in my own realm?” you ask, confused. Because why would you pay taxes over your own little realm that the Japanese government doesn’t even know about?
Satoru hums, looking around the room. “I mean, can’t fault you for that, but still, you can’t just print money— do you know how much trouble you could get into if people found that out?”
You snort at that. “Right, because people can totally find this place. Don’t you worry about that, the Tooth Fairy wont get arrested for something as silly as tax evasion. Also, I’m not a criminal. People should be glad about that, actually, because if we were criminals, people would never be able to catch us.”
“Now why are you bringing me into this? I just deliver presents to people on Christmas eve, I’m not sitting on the North Pole printing money in my hidden house—”
“So you do have a hidden house? Also you’re aware you break into people’s homes, just like I do, right?”
“I- no I don’t have a hidden house! Every present gets made in my toy factory here in Japan. And… okay well that last part might be true, but you didn’t have to put it like that.”
Smiling, you shake your head a bit. “Well c’mon then, I’ll show you the rest of my tax-free house.”
It’s not something you thought you would ever do—showing your house to someone else. It’s been decades since someone last was here, and that person was your own mother. At the time she was still the Tooth Fairy. She’s also the one who has taught you all about fairy dust and its usage.
If anyone was a criminal, it would’ve been the first Tooth Fairy who came up with stealing children’s teeth for money, not you.
The rest of the day passes in a blink, and before you even realise it, your wings sprout out of your shoulder blades. They unfurl, casting small shadows onto your kitchen floor, where you and Gojo were chatting over a cup of tea.
Shit, had you really wasted the day away like this— talking to Santa of all people? You haven’t even slept! And now you’re supposed to make your rounds again?
“Well, I guess duty calls.” you mumble as you stand up. Gojo looks a bit sad, but stands up as well. Digging into your pocket, you gently give him a small pouch with some Fairy Dust. He holds it up like it’s a foreign object—which it kinda is. “You can use that when you want to visit, or whatever.”
“Really, you’ll let me visit again?” There’s a small sparkle to his eyes that almost rivals the dust. It’s kinda cute, but you won’t ever tell him that. Humming, you open the front door. The forest having since darkened, the moonlight peeking through slightly. “I’ll see you soon, then.”
Waving, he walks back to civilisation as you take off to go to the first house of the night.
And he stays true to his word. The first time Gojo came to visit you, you were asleep. He’d at least looked apologetic about it, not having realised that you probably would be asleep until a bit later in the day. You’d waved him off and told him not to worry about it since you hadn’t told him.
After that, his visits were later, around seven or eight at night. He also always brought food with him, since he still had to eat dinner, and you your first meal of the day.
It was honestly scary how easy it was to become friends with him. You never really had any friends, much less people who even knew about you being the Tooth Fairy. Guess the two of you had that in common, though—the secret identities.
Sure, Gojo might be Santa, but he’s a normal guy 364 days out of the year, so he has more freedom with who he spends time with, and he has told you all about his friends. It was honestly cute how happy he is every time he talks about them, but part of you felt lonelier than ever when you heard him talk about it.
What would it be like to truly live a normal life, one where you don’t have to hide away because of the fact that you sprout wings at night and collect teeth?
Seems like you don’t have to dwell on that thought for long, because one day, after months of talking to Gojo, he asked you one simple question.
The two of you are sitting on your couch, watching TV. Gojo is uncharacteristically silent, and you have been side-eyeing him the entire time. After a good forty minutes of silence, you finally break. “What’s up with you?”
He jolts slightly, fingers slipping from the small takeout box he has in his hand, before they clamp around it again—slightly too hard, crinkling the plastic with it. His eyes find yours, and for the first time in forever, you see an emotion you haven’t seen in him before—uncertainty.
“Go out with me?” he finally blurts out, swallowing straight after. The words bounce off your walls and into your skull. Go out with me? He wants to go on a date? With you?
“Me?” you point at yourself, as if trying to confirm that he isn’t talking about anyone else.
He laughs, a bit awkwardly, as he scratches the back of his neck with one hand. “Who else?”
Biting down on your lip, you look down at the takeout in your lap. Why? Why would he ever want to go out with you out of everyone? You don’t have an interesting life, at all. You just… collect teeth and sleep. There’s not much else you do with your days. Looking up at him, you finally whisper, “Are you sure?”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” and he does sound so sure, you can’t but help believe in him.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll go out with you.”