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The halls of the Port Mafia were decorated as any decrepit, capitalistic building that didn’t hand out Christmas bonuses would be. Nothing but cold, silver metal donned with lackluster welding and desperation that even people involved in organized crime would never be able to escape; nothing interesting ever happened amongst the office workers of the Port Mafia anyway.
The people within the walls were nothing but a collection of pencil pushers, exhausted grunts that were glad to be out of the field, and executives that spent more time managing the paperwork for their missions than actually being on them.
And yet, as the looming irritations of scraped-through bank accounts, blood encrusted hands cracked with callouses, and the bittered chill of cold steel against their hands, the collection of grunts managed to find themselves within the comfort of pre-Christmas cheer. Many walked around humming soft holiday jingles whilst relishing in the idea of going home to their families--or spend time with the makeshift ones in the office--and enjoy a weekend without paid bloodshed.
Most were content dragging themselves through the day without paying attention to those around them, and yet, there were a few that were far-too encroached on the inner workings of the Port Mafia to care too much about making it through the day. Simply watching as the darling of the Mafia, ‘The Demon Prodigy’ who dripped with hellish intent, bound his way down the halls with a joyous air many of them hadn’t seen before.
A smile split his features and disappeared underneath the wrappings of his bandages in a way no one had seen before. The fifteen year old boy had never looked so joyous walking the halls of the Port Mafia, babbling some random little Christmas jingle--one he had no doubt heard from some department store speakers during a recent mission.
“It’s beginning to look alot like Christmas!” he boasted about with each rushed step he made through the halls. No doubt heading towards the office of the partner he had garnered a few months ago. “Everywhere you go!” he sang with a little stutter to his step, making the coat on his shoulders flutter and hit the back of his lanky legs. “Take a look at the five and ten, glistening once again! With candy canes and silver lanes aglow~”
The deep black coat donning his shoulders fluttered behind him as his hands hid underneath it, as if he was hiding something from the views of others.
Unspoken, as a unit, all of the office workers remaining trailed after the absentminded boy bound his way through the halls--nothing else was as interesting as knowing what put the chronically angry Port Mafia Kitten in a good enough mood to have him unabashedly singing through the halls. They watched as the grin on his face only seemed to grow wider and the usual darkness of his eyes was alight with a type of gleam that could only be contingent with the dazzling existence of December cheer and the suffering of Nakahara Chuuya.
“It's beginning to look alot like Christmas! Toys in every store~! But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be on your own front door~!” he sang with a joyous tone. A sneaky smile spread across his features before he came to a stop in front of Executive Kouyou’s office, “Oh Chuuya! You're ‘prettiest sight to see’ is here!”
“Unless it's Lippman in that stupid Rudolph outfit I don’t want to see it!” Chuuya shouted from the safety of Executive Kouyou’s office. Knowing that the relationship between Kouyou and Dazai was far-too fragile for him to be able to break her door down just to get to Chuuya--but it wasn’t fragile enough for him to not bother her during her off time.
“But Chuuya~!” he whined petulantly, stomping a foot down onto the carpeted ground beneath him. “I brought you a present!”
The door flung itself open, coated in red even as Dazai, the renowned nullifier, hovered in front of it.
“What did you get me?” the formidable half of Double Black asked from within the office, hidden from the sights of everyone but the Demon Prodigy that came knocking on the door. As the boy’s voice echoed from within the depths of the room, Dazai’s head slowly began to tilt itself upwards towards the ceiling with a humorous glint tugging at the softened features.
“If you want to know you’ll have to come down from the ceiling.” Dazai said whilst drawing a small box out from behind his back--no doubt the very thing he was attempting to hide from onlookers.
With a sigh, the hiding teenager floated down from his spot on the ceiling and landed in front of Dazai with a tense frown on his face and his arms crossed in front of his chest. Staring Dazai down until his eyes locked onto the neatly wrapped box sitting in the other boy's hands, sitting atop his palms like it was some prized pieces of jewelry instead of whatever idiocy Dazai has decided to present Chuuya with.
“What is it?” he grumbled, staring at the box as if it personally offended him.
“Open it if you want to know!” Dazai said with a sing-song tone, presenting it for the other boy to take.
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya swiped the box from his partners hands and set himself to ripping it open without any type of fanfare or care for the painstaking wrapping covering the present that fell from their hands in heaps. The banged-up box sat in Chuuya’s hands, wrapped in worn tape that was falling apart against the cardboard and peeling back so the opening arched up and out.
“If this is some fucking prank I’m going to punch you in the face,” Chuuya said, raising his eyebrow only slightly. “Like,” he raises his fist, “square in the fucking jaw.”
“It’s so cute you’d think I’d ever let you get close enough to me to be able to catch me.” Dazai drawls, rolling back on his heels in a childish way only he is able to pull off. “Either way, open it!”
With a quick intake of breath, Chuuya--everyone in the vicinity really--braced himself for whatever terror was settled within the box. Body tensed and ability ready to flare just in case it was something dangerous that would launch out at him the second it was uncontained. Chuuya knew Dazai too well to allow himself to be entirely relaxed when it came to his ‘surprises’ or gifts that were being offered.
Peeling the cardboard back, Chuuya reached in with a confused gleam crossing his features before his fingers grazed over the sharp ends of something. Poking at the pads of his fingers like the pines of Christmas trees or the teeth of a fork. Picking the thing up between the pads of his first finger and thumb, Chuuya pulled it out of the box with an abashed gleam to his features.
“What. The. Fuck. Is. This. Dazai.” He forces out through gritted teeth, holding the object between the two of them.
“It's mistletoe!” He boasts, throwing his arms up in his own attempt at creating more fan-fare to the lackluster gift. Chuuya stared at the plant in his hand, blankly glancing from the gift back up to Dazai's wide, darkened eyes. Barely containing his anger before he tossed it back into the box in his hands and thrusting it against Dazai's chest.
“No,” Chuuya blankly said before turning on his heel and marching off and away from the hovering boy. “Just… just no.”
“Chuuya~!” Dazai shouts, fishing the gift from its place within the box and tossing it aside. “Come on~!! I read in a holiday ad that mistletoe is the perfect gift for partners during the Christmas season!”
“I think you have misunderstood the use of partners in that bit of capitalistic joy, Mackerel!” Chuuya yells, throwing his hand behind him in an attempt to brush off the hands grasping onto his cost. Dazai's sticky, fish-scented hands tugging onto the fabric as he uses it to help himself get closer to the rushing away boy.
“Come on Chuuya!” He whines, launching himself against the redheads back in a single easy motion, locking one of his arms around Chuuya's neck and plastering himself to his back. “It's our first Christmas together! Didn't you want a gift from your first and only partner!”
“I would rather be Lippmann's bodyguard on a red carpet than get a gift like that from you.” as he spoke, black gloved hands attempted to unlatch the leech hanging onto his back. Peeling him off his body even as the other arm moved to put the small piece of mistletoe in front of Chuuya's face; making him stumble to a stop.
“Come on~!” He whined as he finally unlatched himself from Chuuya's body, “I'm being nice here! I even got you a gift! It's a traditional gift for partners to give each other… and we're partners so it only makes sense I get you something like this!”
“You really want to give me mistletoe?” Chuuya asks, turning around to face the pouting boy standing in front of him. “Are you sure?”
“Chuuya's my partner!” Dazai says, moving his arm to hold the mistletoe between with the air of a giddy child. “Of course I'm sure!”
“If that's what you want,” Chuuya says. Reaching over he tightly grasped Dazai's face between his hands and pulled him in. Using the strength of his pull to make Dazai stumble into his arms so he can plant his lips against the other.
It was nothing but a measly peck against the other's lips, nothing but linked flesh pressing against flesh… and yet, it felt like an eternity. Their lips mushed together in an uncomfortable match that somehow seemed to work, soft and sweet before Chuuya was pushing Dazai's face away and patting his cheek.
“Merry Christmas Mackerel.” He says, swiping the mistletoe from his partner's fingers and walking away; leaving a statuesque Dazai in the middle of the hallway.
If the office workers watching saw anything they all agreed to never tell a soul.