A Touch of Mistletoe (10 page)

His pocket buzzed and Ash pulled his phone out, checking the display.

Hina won't give me your address,
Yuki's text read.
I'd like to send a card?

Ash grinned.
Hina is trying to keep you out of trouble
. He sent his address in a separate text.

She thinks I'm bothering you!
came back right away, colored with Yuki's indignation. After a longer moment, another followed.
I'm not, am I?

Of course not
, Ash replied.
Remember, I gave you my number
. And Yuki had certainly taken him up on his invitation to text any time.

Great,
Yuki replied, following up with a string of adorable emojis that made Ash crack up out loud.
Still don't have plans tomorrow?

Just staffing the shop until close.
Ash looked down at the Lovely Sweet bag in his other hand. What would Yuki say if he invited him over to share some of that cake? It would spoil if Ash had to eat it himself. He quashed the idea ruthlessly. Yuki wouldn't want to come over all the way from Osaka, anyhow.
What about you?

Big plans
. More emojis, a few sparkles Ash didn't even think were possible and smileys showing off big white teeth. He laughed again.

Have fun, all right?
There were a lot of things Ash wanted to say, and most fell in the category of 'better not go there.'

I play as hard as I work.

Ash tried not to think about how he could use more of that sparkle in his life.

*~*~*

Call your family,
a sign tent had been left on the counter beside the register from Surumi, along with a few candy cane Kit Kats and a neatly-wrapped gift tied off with a gigantic golden bow.
Merry Christmas
.

"Merry Christmas to me," Ash said to the empty store. The interior wasn't festive, because it would have clashed horribly with the typical vaudun-style décor, and he was feeling the lack. His eyes kept drifting to his phone, expecting the blue digital blink that would signify new messages.

Shop traffic was slow during the early hours, so he made use of it to call his family after all. Everyone was at his grandmother's place, uncles and aunts and cousins and siblings, and Ash was passed around from hand to hand until he'd spoken to his entire extended family, if only in brief. It took over an hour, and he knew it was only that short because they were aware he was at work. They saved his momma for last, as usual, and her warm voice on the line made his eyes prickle.

"You're doing good things over there," she said.

"Yeah, but I should be with y'all if only for Christmas," Ash replied. "Business will pick up. I finished a really good job and I'm sure it will get me some more high profile customers."

"High profile don't matter," his momma replied. "The money don't matter, Ash, so long as you're doing what you're meant to."

Ash scrubbed a hand over his fuzzy scalp. "So you keep telling me, but the money sure does help." Amusement colored his retort and she gave a gentle laugh.

"I should let you go; you'll have a visitor soon," she said.

"No way, it's still early—" A shadow shape pushed open the front door and Ash sighed.

"Call me before New Year's," his momma said, and it wasn't a suggestion. It was an order. "And Ash?"

"Yes, momma?"

"Go for it." She was laughing as she hung up the phone.

Ash suppressed a curse and thumbed his phone off, dropping it to the counter and turning a professional smile on his customer. Surumi had urged him over the past couple of years to close the shop for Christmas, but Ash didn't mind manning the counter and kept his office hours on the off chance someone might have a real need for paranormal consultation. His day passed in an intermittent stream of people stopping in either to escape rain or grab a last-minute gift. He caught up on the stack of paperwork that came with shop ownership and thought about the mistletoe cake at home. There was no one for Ash to share it with, and the one person he was inclined to think about was solidly off limits.

The final hour before closing time saw Ash tending a surge of last-last minute shoppers, cashiering and juggling questions from five different patrons, all of whom gave him the wide-eyed look that meant they were new to the supernatural or he was the first black person they'd seen all year. Given it was Tokyo, either or both was possible.

Once he finally ushered the last customer out the door, he happily flipped the sign to 'closed' and escaped through the back alley.

Christmas music came from the open doors of various shops along his route home, and Ash buried his hands in his pockets, trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing, like his momma had told him. The lack of all his deeply-rooted traditions was rubbed raw by the stark contrast of brightly ornamented Shinjuku streets, a nod to some of the things Ash knew but improvising and embroidering upon the whole.

By the time Ash reached the stairs to his apartment building, he wished he could call his family again, but everyone would be in bed, slumbering in anticipation of Christmas morning. Some of his youngest cousins were still little enough to believe, sleeping in uneasy snatches until they woke early and clustered at the stairs waiting to run down and see what Santa had left them.

Wrapped up in that fond memory, Ash almost stumbled over a prone figure outside his door. A dark head lifted, fixing Ash with the widest smile he'd seen all day.

"Welcome home!" Yuki greeted him, unfolding his long limbs and getting to his feet.

"What—welcome—Yuki, what are you doing here?" Ash demanded, reaching out to grasp Yuki's upper arm and make sure he was there.

Yuki had a white paper bag dangling from one wrist. He clutched it to his chest like a shield. "I wanted to see you. And you said you didn't have any plans." His expression shifted from excitement to worry. "Am I interrupting?"

"Don't be silly." Ash kept his grip on Yuki for a long, uncertain moment as he considered whether to drag him to the nearest bus stop or take him through the door. Outside the ledge that ran alongside the building, rain began to spatter against concrete. Ash unlocked the door and steered Yuki inside. "Why did you come here, though? Christmas is a time for family; you should be in Osaka."

"What?" Yuki's face wrinkled in confusion. He toed his shoes off beside Ash's and gave a small laugh that sent a shiver up Ash's spine. "Ash, Christmas Eve isn't for family. Not here, anyhow."

"Then what—" It took Ash a moment, but he remembered that odd byplay with Keisuke. Christmas was a special time, but not for friends. It also explained why Surumi was so insistent about getting the day off, and excited that her boyfriend could spend it with her.

"Christmas is for being with one person." Yuki rubbed at his head and looked abashed. "I want to spend it with you."

Ash pulled in a slow breath. "Yuki..."

"Do you dislike me?" Yuki sounded so anxious, Ash reflexively stepped in close to reassure. He rested his hand on Yuki's neck, right where it curved to join up with his shoulder. His skin was warm, even through layers, even in the wet cold, and Ash could just catch the scent of soap and faint citrusy notes.

"No." Ash breathed in and out. "No, that's not it, at all. But, Yuki, we can't. You're a lot younger than I am, and your profession is high-profile, demanding—"

"You wanted to know why I was at Yukinoha shrine," Yuki interrupted. "And I didn't want to tell you. Even knowing that the reason might be why Maya was drawn to me. You must have wondered."

"I figured it was personal." Ash shrugged. His fingers were still curved against Yuki's neck and he wasn't inclined to let go.

"Very personal." Yuki's lips twitched. "But also, related to the situation in which I found myself."

"Okay…" Ash said.

"I wasn't only praying for success at Nationals. My real motivation that day was more self-centered." Yuki pressed his lips together and lowered his head for a second before squaring his shoulders and meeting Ash's eyes. "I wanted to meet someone. I know it's selfish, but I wanted it anyway."

"O-oh," Ash faltered, more than a bit overwhelmed both by the words and the intensity that was focused on him to the point the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

Yuki took a deep breath. "I have no life, Ash. Between skating and school, I've never been able to meet—or stay—with anyone long enough to form romantic attachments, or promise anything. And everyone my age, everyone that... some... might think suitable aren't willing to put up with my schedule, or the fact that they only see me here and there."

"Everyone your age," Ash repeated.

"Yes. It's not only a matter of being compatible." Yuki huffed before breaking into a wistful smile. "I need—I want—to be with someone who's mature enough to know I can't be with them all the time. But when I'm with you, I'm
with
you."

Ash took his hand away, rubbing it nervously against his thigh. "Me?"

"I really like you, Ash," Yuki said. "You're handsome, you treat me like I'm a normal person, and we like a lot of the same things. And... and you've seen a bit of what my life is like. You'd know what you're getting into."

Yuki's eyes were so wide, his face so hopeful, all Ash wanted to do was press reassuring kisses on him to answer that look. He was putting his heart out there; it was braver than Ash had been able to do. "You might not know what you're getting into."

Yuki's smile was tentative. He raised the white bag that had dangled from his wrist throughout the conversation, and freed a box from within, lifting it up to Ash's scrutiny. "I got you something," he said, and bit his lip. "If you accept it, you'll go out with me, okay?"

Ash's grin was as much for the lip bite as the sweetly hopeful way Yuki had phrased it. He reached for the box lid.

"I hope you like it." Yuki's voice quavered. "It was the only one they had left, and they were out of their usual box, I know it doesn't look like much—"

Ash opened the bakery box and stared at a replica of the cake he'd gotten from Lovely Sweet, frosted green leaves and pearly mistletoe berries and all. He chuckled. "Damn Keisuke, anyhow," he muttered.

"I'm sorry?" Yuki sounded frantic and Ash reeled him in, fingers at his nape, drawing him kissing close.

"It's nothing," Ash assured him. "You know what this is, right? Mistletoe?"

"Uh, uh-huh." Yuki's eyes went heavy-lidded and his breath came faster. "You, you have to kiss me. Or it's bad luck."

"Can't be responsible for any bad luck coming your way." Ash rested their foreheads together briefly before angling his head and giving Yuki every chance to resist it. Yuki was first to press in and seal their mouths together.

It was a soft kiss, slow and gentle. He kissed Yuki the way he'd been wanting to since that first night. Yuki's lips were smooth and moved to fit against Ash's as the kiss went on. He wound his other arm around Yuki's waist and when the cake box bumped against his chest, they broke apart. Ash gave a low laugh and Yuki nudged closer as though to pursue the kiss, but rocked back on his heels to peer up into Ash's eyes.

"Then, you want the cake?" Yuki's eyes pleaded with him.

"And all the kisses that go along with it," Ash agreed, lifting the box from Yuki's hands. He let go of Yuki's nape and crooked a finger, inviting him further into the apartment. "As it happens, I have a cake for you, myself."

Yuki's smile was better than the sunrise. "And kisses?"

"For as long as you've got the time." Ash held out his pinky and Yuki reached out, hooking his own pinky with Ash's. He supposed there was something to this particular Japanese tradition—the best gift had shown up in time for Christmas after all.

A Beautiful Thing

A.F. Henley

Scott was not doing what everyone in the entire city seemed to be doing. He was not picking up a gift for someone who had been forgotten or added to plans at the last minute. He was not getting just one more roll of overpriced paper, tape, or ribbon. Nor was he pulling his hair out trying to pick up a last minute something for a spouse or lover. All Scott was doing was grabbing a package of cigarettes.

He'd known the stores would be insane. He'd been more than aware that everything from gas station to grocers, from convenience to department store, would be crawling with consumers. Or, as Scott preferred to think of them, people desperate to throw away hard-earned dollars on crap that by that time next year would be either gathering dust on thrift store shelves, or adding even more weight to the already crippled waste-management system.

So he'd bought his groceries well in advance. He'd made sure the liquor cabinet was stocked back in November, and got his dry-cleaning picked up days prior. He'd been very, very careful. This was the year, he'd told himself, that he wasn't going to get stuck in the middle of it all. This would be the year he could pretend none of these people, and none of their absurd, self-serving, meaningless traditions existed. And if the stocking-wearing, bell-jingling, coin-begging, bologna-sandwich-reeking freak that was playing the part of holiday elf down at the corner hadn't bumped into him, and knocked his all but full pack of smokes into the rain filled gutter, Scott would have been able to call his plan a success.

He glared around at the garish, tired decorations, at the people running around in the nonsensical panic of doomsday preparation, and shook his head. Humanity was fucked—royally, righteously, ridiculously fucked beyond all redemption.

Never, Scott thought to himself as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would never be part of this. It wasn't the impossible reindeers and sleighs, or the overpriced talking dolls and iPads, either. It wasn't the mass consumerism or the hyperactive reactions to unnecessary but well-marketed garbage. It wasn't even the dismal concept of painting over a supposedly family-based, arguably-religious holiday with the greedy brush of enterprise.

It was the emptiness of it all. The pointlessness. The fact that something could be coveted so fiercely one day, and be nothing but trash the following one. It was the way that Christmas brought to the surface everything Scott found intolerable about people: their fickle attitude, their ever-changing priorities, and their inconsistent devotion.