#may need to prep the I am a child of divorce pins

[finnitesimal]

personally if they spent time apart that would make me So Upset because i just love them being together and i want them to work things out Together, though i understand endo needs to find out who he is outside of takiishi, and takiishi needs to feel endo's absence... that being said, i was looking at some old panels and I REALIZED this isnt a flag THIS IS THE PAPER USED FOR THE TATTOO BASE. and when their arc "begins" it''s on fire about to be... destroyed?? IDK HOW TO INTERPRET THIS but . i wanted to show u

DIVORCE WINS

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Never have regrets; Joe Mazzello x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well here I have another Secret Santa gift. As a part of the Get Down Give Joy giveaway I would like to present @stewielover95​ with your fic. Yes dear I am your secret Santa. I really hope you like this fic in the end, I struggled with it at first but then I finally had a good direction to go with it. Anyways I also want to thank @warriorteam1924​ and @thosequeenboys​ for creating this splendid give away, after the LONG AND HELLISH year that 2020 has given us, it was very sweet of them to create this little give away to brighten up our holiday spirit (esp. since we can’t really see our families this year. Even if you can, PLEASE BE SAFE!!!). Now I’ll stop typing so that you all can start reading, hope everyone enjoys this lovely little fic with our beloved dino boy Joey Mazzello :) 

Warnings: Joe’s chaotic child behavior (MAY CAUSE CAVITIES), fluff, parental angst, parent death, mentions of suicide, a small very subtle HINT of COVID (word isn’t mentioned but still think I should give warning), 

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@wormzteef​

___________________________________________________________

I was peacefully sleeping.  After working long hours at my job I wanted nothing more than to just stay in bed all day and sleep until lunchtime.

“Hey baby~” Joey’s voice cooed in my ear.  I felt him kiss my cheek and I let out a tired groan. “Good morning.”

“Joey!” I whined. “Go back to sleep.”

“No. The sun’s awake, so I’m awake. Which means we have to snuggle and make out.” I cracked an eye open and looked up at him.  His auburn hair all messed up from his constant tossing and turning that he does in his sleep.

“We’ll make out when the rooster crows.”

“But babe there aren’t any roosters in New York.”

“Exactly.” He faux a gasp as he collapsed back on the bed.

“How could you? And I thought you loved me?! I knew it. You’re only in it for the money! Or the childhood fame crush! Or was it for Ben? It was for Ben wasn’t it! I knew you two were having an affair behind my back!” god he was such a drama queen.  But he was my drama queen.

“Yes we’ve been sneaking in text messages behind your back.” I teased him.

“Okay that’s it!” I then felt him wriggle himself under the covers and I felt myself go from my stomach to my back in a split second.

“Joseph Francis Mazzello III! What the f—NO AHHH NO DOHOHOHN’T! DON’T TICKLE ME!!” I thrashed around trying to get him off of me but he had me pinned right down to the bed.

“You gonna get up now?” I heard him say from under the covers.

“JOHOHOHOE!!!” I screamed out in laughter. “Plehehehehease!”

“No not until you either say you’re gonna wake up. Or until I hear an apology.” Then I heard the dreaded sound and feeling of his deadly raspberries being blown on my stomach, just an inch over my bellybutton.  And it was even worse now that he was growing out his beard.

“Okay! OK! OK! OK! OKAY STOP! I surrender! I surrender!” his head soon peaked out from the covers as his face was just a few inches away from mine.  His shit-eating grin spread across his face, while his eyes twinkled with that same mischievous spark that made me fall in love with him. “I hate you.” I whined.

“Aww and I hate you too.” He moved closer to my lips and kissed me. “I hate you—so much.” His voice lowered down as he deepened the kiss. I felt his hands cup the sides of my face while my arms wrapped around him.

My right-hand stroking through his already messy hair while my left wrapped around his back.  After what felt like an eternal make out session, we finally separated from each other and stared at one another.

“Alright you have my attention Joey.”

“Yay!” he cheered softly. “But in all seriousness, we need to get up. We promised my mom that we’d help with the Christmas decorations.”

“Okay. Now get off me yah goober so that we can help her.” He got off of me and I sat up but I was quickly pulled back onto the bed, laying against Joe’s chest.  Him grinning smugly at me as he kissed me on the lips.

“Sorry, had to get my morning kiss from you.”

“And the morning make out session wasn’t enough for you?”

“Morning make outs and morning kisses are two completely different things.” He told me in that philosophical tone of his.  You know the one you use to make yourself sound smarter.

“Ahh I see. Well thank you Professor Mazzello on explaining the differences between the two.”

“That’s Dr. Mazzello to you. But you are most welcome. Anything for my best student.” I pecked his nose and got back up but found myself being pulled back again towards Joe.

“Joey!”

“Sorry, sorry I couldn’t resist. Okay for real this time, go on. I’m right behind you.”

“Why don’t you go first and I’ll be right behind you?” I suggested.  He sighed and pulled the covers off of us and went to sit up but this time I grabbed his hand and pulled him back onto the bed.  I pecked his lips before taking off out of the room.

We both raced down the stairs and towards the living room when I felt Joey catch me in his arms, pick me up and spin me around.  Laughing manically while he did it.  I myself couldn’t help but giggle when a female voice said.

“Ah-uh Joseph! No horse playing in the house.”

“Sorry mom.” He said as he sat me down.

“Sorry about that mama.” I said.

You see, Joe and I had been dating for practically ten years. We actually met through our good friend Rami way back when we were all on the Pacific.  I was part of the costume department, and I was Rami’s assistant costumer.  So whenever he got into Snafu’s character of course he tried to flirt with me and I’d play along off of his character telling him he didn’t have a chance.

Between takes the three of us became thick as thieves and kept in contact.  Then one day when we were all on break, Rami set Joe and I up to meet at the beach so that the two of us could talk to each other.  At the time of filming, Joe and I had been really shy around each other and we both liked each other (of course neither of us had the guts to say it to the other).

But after spending our break at the beach together that’s when Joe made the first I love you confession and—the rest is history as they say. When the three of us reunited for Bohemian Rhapsody and got to know Ben, Lucy, Allen, and Gwilym, our little family had now grown bigger.  And it was after filming a concert scene in Japan (with some help from the actual Queen band themselves) that Joe (yes still dressed as early 70’s John Deacon) proposed to me.

So for 2 years he and I had been married.  Of course like all couples we have our fights and disagreements but in the end we patch through them and not let it run our lives. Oh and I almost forgot, since I had been so close with the Mazzello family throughout our entire relationship, I had the privilege to call Joe’s parents, my parents even before we got married.

“I swear you both remind me of—” that’s when mom trailed off sadly as she looked down.  Joe and I grew sad too as we thought about his dad.

“We miss him too mom. God I—I can’t believe this will be our 3rd Christmas without him.” Joe said as he walked towards his mom and gave him a hug.

“As much as I wish he could be here with us, he wouldn’t want us to be sad on his favorite holiday.” She told us.  She took a deep breath in and cleaned her eyes of her hidden tears. “There now, I’ve got breakfast all ready for you two. Once you’re done, Joseph, I want you to bring in the Christmas boxes from the garage and set them in the living room. (Y/n), you and I will get the Christmas decorations from the attic.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am!” We both saluted.  We went to the kitchen and ate our breakfast.  After that we went to our stations and helped Mama Mazzello with the Christmas decorating.

It took almost all day but we came to a pretty good stopping place today decorating wise.  We put up some of the minor Christmas displays up all over the house (like small animal plushies, Christmas pictures of the Mazzello family throughout the years, etc.) Joe managed to get all the outdoor decorations set up and displayed, and mama and I set up the Christmas placemats on the tables.

It was now a bit past 5pm and it was pitch black outside. Joey and I were cuddled together on the sofa and I looked out the window and shook my head.

“I still can’t get over the fact that it gets dark at freakin 4o’clock now.”

“I know it’s crazy. My mom’s never liked it, have yah mom?”

“Oh it messes up my schedule everytime!” Mom cried out from the kitchen as she was prepping dinner.  “Hey (Y/n) are your mom and Derek still coming to the party?”

“Yeah. They said they’d be taking the train from Virginia instead of the plane. I think they said they’d be coming up sometime next Wednesday. I’ll call them later tonight to confirm that.”

“Alright well I’ll get the guest room set up for them.”

“You know you don’t need to do that.”

“Nonsense you guys are family. And it’ll be a lot safer here at the house than taking a hotel room with everything that’s going on.” She said.

“Yeah that is true. Thanks mama.”

“Okay well come and make a plate you two, dinner’s ready.” We stood up and got our dinner (steak and potatoes) and ate at the dinner table while playing on Freeform’s 25 days of Christmas was the Santa Clause.

Weeks later and it was the day before the Mazzello Christmas party and arriving in less than an hour was my mom and Derek.  If your curious as to why I call my dad Derek, well he’s not really my dad. He’s my stepdad but I really do care for him.

He and my mom met up shortly after I graduated from high school after my parents divorced.  My real dad and I…well—we don’t talk at all.  Our relationship is very strained so why don’t we just leave it at that?  But when my mom met Derek, he’s been the father I wished I had.

He’s loving, supportive, kind, funny, and he’s always there whenever my mom or I needed him.  He was there for me when Joe and I were going through a bad patch in our relationship, he was there for all my birthdays and movie premieres, and he was even the one to walk me down the aisle at mine and Joe’s wedding.

I was doing the last final touches of cleaning up the house for my mom and Derek’s arrival, as well as Joe’s siblings, nieces, and nephews. I heard the door open and a stampede of footsteps soon came running towards me.

“Auntie (Y/n)! Auntie (Y/n)!” I was soon glomped by 4 little nuggets.

“Hey there kiddies. Oh I’ve missed you four soo much! How have you all been?”

“I lost another tooth see?” Joe’s niece Samantha said opening her mouth to show me her missing tooth.

“I learned how to ride my bike!” his nephew Matthew aka Matty exclaimed.

“Oh big boy now huh? Bet you were better than your uncle Joey was.”

“I heard that!” Joe called out.  He along with this brother and sister came through the living room and I hugged my brother and sister in laws.

“Hey guys Merry Christmas.” I greeted them.

“Merry Christmas (Y/n).” his sister Mary said as she and I hugged each other first.

“Even though Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.” His brother John said.

“Okay Scrooge. Get over here John.” He gave me a kiss to my cheek and the two of us embraced each other. “Joe’s told me about your little league’s championship win. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah those kids did me proud.”

“You know if you could convince Joe and (Y/n) to hurry up with getting kids of their own, they might give you some new champions.” A female voice soon spoke up.  Soon coming around the corner of the house along with Mama was my own mom as well as Derek.

“Mom!” I whined.

“Now, now (m/n) don’t go pressuring her just yet. There’s still plenty of time for her and Joe to have kids. Say when their 50.” I chuckled and shook my head at Derek’s statement.  I walked up to them and first hugged my mom.

“Did you guys have a safe train ride?” I asked.

“It went well. Much less crowded than I expected.”

“That’s cause you’ve always done the Metro mom. Metro and train are two totally different things.” I told her.  I turned to Derek and he said with a smile as he extended his arms out.

“Come here baby girl.” I smiled and went into his arms and the two of us hugged each other. “Don’t just wait till the holidays to come see us. How will your mother and I survive?”

“I’m sorry Derek, work’s just been crazy lately. Directors have been wanting me to do costume designing and fittings for them left and right.” I said as we released each other from the hug.

“And why wouldn’t they? You’re incredibly talented.” Joe said as he came up and quickly pecked my cheek.

“He’s right. I remember you staying up way past your curfew designing costumes for your tech theatre class back in high school.” Derek continued. “And all those times of drawing on napkins and the corners of the morning paper. I swear you doodled sketches like it was no one’s business.”

“You stayed up pass curfew?” my mother snapped.

“Thanks a lot Derek.” I muttered angrily.

“Hey had to come out sometime right?” I playfully nudged him and said to my mom.

“That’s in the past mom. No need to talk about it now.”

“Oh you can be sure we’ll discuss that later little missy.” She lectured as she waved her finger at me.

“Alright, now the rooms have all been prepared for you all in advance. Mary, John you’ll take your old rooms. (M/n) and Derek the guest room has been made up for you all and of course the kids get the cloud bedroom.” The kids all cheered. “Now everyone drop your bags off in your designated rooms and we can all gather around the table for some dinner.”

I helped mom with her bags and guided her and Derek to the guest room while Joe went to help his mom set up the table for dinner.

“So when can we expect future grandbabies from you and Joe (n/n)?” my mom asked.

“If you keep pestering me about that then you won’t have any grandbabies.” I teased her as we came to the room.  “Here we are, I cleaned it up myself. Hope you guys will be comfortable.”

“It’s great (y/n). Thank you.” Derek assured me.

“Tell Virginia we’ll be down in a moment once we’re finished unpacking.” My mom said.  I nodded then left the two of them to unpack their stuff.

As I came down the stairs, I already saw Joe being attacked by all his nieces and nephews.  The kids were climbing all over him like a tree, all of them talking over the other and squealing like little piglets.  

God seeing Joe with those kids it—really did make me want to have kids with him.  He’s already a fun uncle, I’m positive he’d make a great dad.  Probably spoil our kids to no end but—he could be the discipliner if he needed to.

“Ow! Who’s on the head?!” Joe exclaimed.  I shook my head at his nephew Matty who had half of his body on top of Joe’s head.

“Alright you kids break it up.” I told the kids as I grabbed Matty and held him in my arms.

“Auntie (Y/n), will you sing for us tomorrow at the party like you did last year?” He asked me.

“You bet she’ll sing for you kids. And hey how about we do one better. How would you kids like it if your auntie (Y/n) and I performed together?” Joe asked joyously.  But the kids all let out a groan.

“No uncle Joey you can’t sing!” complained Sammy.

“Excuse me?!” Joe gawked offensively.

“Yeah uncle Joey, you don’t have that good of a singing voice.” Matty agreed.

“And too loud sometimes.” His other niece Katie or as I like to call her Kitty-cat said.

“My own kin turned against me. That’s it you three are in BIG trouble. C’mere!” he went to grab his nieces who quickly ran off his lap and hid behind me.

“Save us auntie (Y/n)!” the girls chorused out.  I shielded the three of them and stood before Joe as his face got right up close to mine.

“You know we could team up and catch them together.”

“I don’t betray kids Joe.”

“So—they’ve turned you too. Fine. I’ll take you down first.” Suddenly he picked me up over his shoulder and proceeded to spin me around and around like a helicopter.

“JOEY!!” I exclaimed through my laughter.

“Then surrender the kids to me or the spinning continues.” He threatened.

“Well then this game’s gonna have to be put on hold cause it’s time for dinner.” Joe’s mom spoke up.  The kids all raced to the dinner table while Joe put me back down. I stumbled a little but he caught me and asked.

“You okay?”

“I’ll live. Just next time don’t spin me around so fast.” I kissed the corner of his lips before heading towards the sinner table with Joe right behind me.  Soon enough we all gathered around and had ourselves a pre-Christmas family dinner.

Soon it finally arrived.  The most wonderful time of the year, Christmas eve.  All the gifts were now placed under the tree wrapped up in various Christmas themed wrappings or color schemes of silver, red, gold, and green. Now it was really beginning to look like Christmas.

“Alright guys, as per tradition we shall start off with (Y/n);s annual Christmas performance.” Mama Mazzello said.  I stood up from Joe’s lap as everyone applauded.

Derek at the speakers ready for my signal for him to turn the first song on.  I nodded and he clicked the play button and soon my first song (in fact the very first song I ever sang back when I was a teen for my family) Faith Hill’s “Where are you Christmas”.

It’s also my mom’s favorite song and every year since I sang it back when it came out in 2000 she’s wanted me to sing it just for her. As I sang I could see the tears forming in my mom’s eyes as a wide smile spread across her face and she lip synched the words.  The kids all stared at me in awe, and my beloved Joe Mazzello he was entranced.

He’s always teased me of how I should be a singer instead of a costume designer and back when we were both involved with Bohemian Rhapsody he’s sworn that he’d get me up on stage with Queen and Adam Lambert to sing with them. Thankfully that hasn’t happened (and I hope it continues that way) so Joe’s just had be do private concerts for him.

After the song was done they all clapped as I told Derek my next song and helped him search the right version of the song.

“This one right here?” he asked to confirm.

“Yep that’s the one.” I told him.  I turned back towards the family and now playing on the speakers was Carrie Underwood’s “Do you hear what I hear?” I fingered the piano chords against my thigh, pretending that I was actually playing the keys (even though I can’t play to save my ass, even with Rami’s help).

That song required a lot of breath work and correct timing but I managed to pull it off and once the song concluded everyone clapped again. This time for the final song, I took out two chairs and set them before everyone.

Joe took this as his cue to come up and help me set up the finale song, especially since he was going to be joining me on it this year. We had been practicing this since November, he wrote the script and everything and we rehearsed it and rehearsed it and rehearsed it.

“For this final song I first want to thank my director and partner Joe Mazzello for writing the script for this little skit you will see.” Joe nodded as he came in with two cups of hot chocolate (his being made of almond milk of course).  The two of us sat side by side and Joe clapped his hands together and said.

“And…..action!” I took a sip of my hot chocolate and said my first line.

“I still can’t believe you can finally drink hot chocolate.”

“Hey almond milk saves lives.” He said his line.

“Personally, I’d never drink that stuff but so long as it helps you. I’m glad I could share this tradition with you.”

“Me too babe.” My phone then dinged and I said.

“Oh my god!”

“What? What is it babe?”

“It’s already pass midnight. My mother’s gonna kill me!”

“Whoa, whoa wait a minute. Don’t tell me you’re going out there!” he said as we both stood up and he gestured toward the window.

“I have to Joey. Even if it’s 20ft of snow out there, it’s nothing compared to the wrath of a mother who doesn’t like their baby staying out past curfew.” I broke the 4th wall and turned to my mom who crossed her arms and looked at me with a playful scowl.

“C’mon just give her a call and explain it to her. It’s way too cold out there for you. I won’t let you freeze out there.” Derek then turned on the song “Baby it’s cold outside” the Seth McFarlane and Sara Bareilles version.

The two of us walking in circles of each other with me trying to head out of the living room and Joe coming around in front of me singing Seth’s part while I sang Sara’s.

Every now and then he’d take my hands in his and giving them a kiss.  Or he’d brush a strand of hair out from my face, gingerly brushing my cheek with the back of his finger.  But just as we got to the end of the first verse, there was a knock at the door.

Joe and I stopped singing as Derek cut off the music and we all turned our attention to the door.

“Mom is—anyone else coming?” asked Mary.

“No.” she simply stated.  Four more knocks rang through the house.  The kids were started to get frightened as they ran up to their parents.

“I’ll find out who it is.” Said Mary’s husband Dylan.

“No, no, no. You just stay with your kids Dylan. I’ll go see who it is.” Derek offered as he left the living room.  After about a minute my mom followed behind him and the next thing I heard was my mom saying.

“What are you doing here!?” it—it couldn’t be.  I raced out of the living room as Joe tried to reach out for me and stop me but he was too late.  I came around and walked down the small hallway staircase that led to the front door and there at the door was someone I hoped I’d never see again.

For there standing at the door in his famed fedora hat was my dad.

He looked older than the last time I saw him, his hair going grey from the stress and wrinkles forming at the end of his eyes.

“I know I don’t have a right to be here, but……”

“That’s right you don’t!” I snapped.  My mom and Derek looked up at me.

“(Y/n) go back upstairs. Derek and I can handle this.” My mom told me.

“(Y/n)?” my dad asked in awe.  I glared at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “Wow look—look at you. You’re……practically grown up.”

“Yeah.” I snapped shortly. “You’d know if you’d pay attention instead of just criticizing me all the time.”

“I know. I……that’s actually why I came here.”

“How did you even know we’d be here (F/n)?” my mom asked.

“Well as part of the NYPD I’ve been—keeping tabs on our daughter. And found out who she married and where she was currently living at.”

“You’ve been spying on me!? Great even when you’re no longer apart of this family you still have to spy on everything I do!” I snapped. “So have you come to complain about my husband now? How I should’ve married a doctor or a cop? How I’ve thrown my life away by marrying an actor?”

“No.” he said. “I haven’t come to do anything like that. I just…..”

“No you know what? Let me start off since you never listened to me then, but you’ll hear me now!”

I walked down the steps and even though my mother tried to get me to go back upstairs, I got out of her arms and got right in my dad’s face and sneered at him.

“For years I’ve tried to be the perfect daughter you said you wanted! And for my childhood I tried to follow in your footsteps. But as I became a preteen you began to nitpick at everything! The color of my hair, what type of clothes I should wear, how I should wear my makeup, you even didn’t like the fact that I wanted to get my ears pierced! Said it was for criminals and goth kids to get their bodies pierced. You called me a delinquent!”

“I-I-I know I did. But now I’m……”

“It doesn’t matter what you have or want to say. The verbal abuse you gave me throughout my life has been nothing but a stab at my self-esteem. I tried to commit suicide by the time I was 16 because of you! You did that!”

“I’m sorry (Y/n).”

“Where was the sorry back then? Where was it? All you told me after I got back from the hospital was that it was my fault for disobeying you.” I once again got in his face and sneered lowly, “So whatever you have to say forget it.”

I turned around and walked up the steps.  As I got halfway up my dad tried to say to me.

“(Y/n) please. I’m trying to make amends for that now. I know I’ve done and said awful things to you in the past. And looking back on it, it’s made me feel absolutely disgusted with myself. I’m your father, please forgive me.  It’s Christmas time.” I lowered my head before turning my head towards him.

“Derek’s my father. Now get the fuck out of my life.” I said lowly to him while I glared at him.  I ran back up the stairs and headed right towards Joe’s room.  I slammed the door and hid myself in the corner of his room, curled myself up into a tight ball, and tried to keep my tears at bay but every now and then a tear fell from the corner of my eye.

I heard the door open and softly shut.  The bed softly dipped down; and the familiar smell of Joe’s cologne hung in the air.

“Please Joe I—I’m not in the mood.”

“I know. That’s not why I came up here though.” I felt him rub my back in soothing circles. “Baby girl, I—I think you should really talk to your dad.” I raised my head up at him, my jaw dropped in shock and my eyes bug-eyed.

“You can’t be serious.”

“C’mon babe it’s Christmas…..”

“So?! I already spoke my mind to him!”

“No. You ranted in anger. You’re not supposed to be angry or any other negative emotion during Christmas.”

“Joe you—” I took a sharp breath in. “I’ve told you what he’s done to me. The neglect and verbal abuse he gave me. How am I supposed to suddenly let it go and forgive him!?”

“I know it’s not easy…..”

“I don’t believe this….you’re actually taking his side!!” I snapped as I backed away from him.

“I’m not! All I’m saying that is if you continue to hate him for the rest of your life, you’ll never be truly happy. Babe please I’m just thinking about what’s best for you.”

Oh my god—it couldn’t be.  He wouldn’t…….

“You called him.”

“What? No!?”

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, not-it-it-it all makes sense. How else could he pick up this address? That whole detective bullshit you reached out to him and called him up didn’t you!?”

“(Y/n) I—”

“TELL ME THE TRUTH!!” I screamed at him.  Silence rang out through Joe’s childhood room as he and I stared eye to eye with each other.  Not a single one of us flinching or breaking eye contact.

“Even if it was me, as I told you I was only trying to help.”

“How!?” I snapped. “Be thankful your dad died a good man!” At the mention of his dad, Joe’s face grew hard and angry.

“I know. I was lucky. My dad was a kind man, and generous and forgiving. But get this (Y/n), I won’t get to experience that type of father love ever again! And I would give anything to have him back here! To have gotten to know you as my wife instead of my girlfriend! To one day see our children! So be thankful that your father is still alive and healthy!” his voice quivered and choked as his voice got steadily louder.

“Joe, I—”

“All I wanted was for you to make amends with your dad because you never know which day will be your last!” he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut.

Goddamnit! Now I feel like shit.  I sighed heavily and fell down onto the bed and felt the tears stream down my face.

After calming myself down and cleaning myself up, I walked downstairs and there was my mom, Derek, Joe’s mom, and siblings.  The kids weren’t there so I assume Mary and John sent them to bed after what had happened.

“If you’re wondering where Joe is he left. Didn’t say where he went he just—took his coat, hat and scarf and just left.” John said.

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” I walked over to my mom and said. “Where’s (f/n)?”

“What?”

“Please mom I—just tell me where he went.” I said urgently.

“He told me he was staying at the Milton motel just 15min. away from here.” I raced and grabbed my winter gear and keys.  My mom calling out to me but I didn’t hear her as I got on my bike and took off down the streets.

When I arrived at the Milton, I went up to the front desk and asked to see a (F/n) (l/n), I told the concierge that I was someone close to him. She called him up and told me he’d be down in a minute.

I sat down in the lobby and waited for him to come down.  I heard the elevator ding and soon coming out of it was (F/n).  He turned to his left and when he saw me, his eyes widened.

“(Y/n)?” I stood up.  He slowly walked towards me. “But I thought—”

“First I want to say this before I say something else. You suddenly showing up the way you did was uncalled for. You can’t expect an apology after the years of neglect and verbal abuse you gave me. Even from the smallest little thing about me that I wanted to change, you insulted me to no ends.” I took a deep breath. “And as much as I want to never want anything to do with you again—someone once told me that if I continue to hate you for the rest of my life, I’ll never be truly happy.”

“I’ve looked back on my actions and every day I hate myself for what I’ve done to you. So—will you give me another chance?”

“I won’t forgive you right away and start calling you dad.”

“I’ll take what I can get. Thank you (Y/n).” he extended his hand out for me to take.  For the first time in years I took my dad’s hand and we shook on it.  “Do you want to spend Christmas day with us tomorrow?”

“I’d like that very much. Plus I’d—I’d like to get to know the man that stole your heart.” My eyes widened.

“Joe! Shit I almost forgot! Ohh but where could he be? He could be anywhere!”

“Just a minute (Y/n), let me make a call.” He took out his phone and made a call. “Hey Jeremy, it’s me. Yeah hey listen I know it’s the holidays but I need your tracking skills.” I saw him nod and hum in agreement, “Okay just a second,” he placed the phone down against his shoulder and asked me, “Do you have his number?”

I told him Joe’s number and he relayed that to his friend. Wow I guess he really is a police officer.

“Really? Great. Thanks Jeremy. Yes you have a Merry Christmas too. See you after the New Year. Bye.” He hung up his phone and said. “His cell was last pinged at the Rockefeller Center.” I thanked him and raced out of the motel and back to my bike.  I revved it up and raced on down to Rockefeller Center.

The monument around Christmas time.  I stood before the giant, beautiful tree and raced towards it on foot.  I looked around for Joe till I finally found him on the other side of the two angel statues playing their horns.

“Joe!?” he turned around and looked at me before glaring softly and turned back around.  I raced towards him but he still refused to look at me.  “Joey……I—I talked to him. My dad. And—it’s gonna take some time but I…..I told him I’d give him another chance.” He didn’t respond back, hell he still didn’t even look at me. “I was way out of line. I shouldn’t have accused you like that. I mean, even if you did call him I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was angry and—those feelings that my dad gave me when I was a kid I’ve tried to bury them for years. And seeing him for the first time in forever it—made me feel like that extremely insecure girl I once was. And I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

Again, he remained silent and stoic.

“And I shouldn’t have mentioned your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted us to fight, especially on his favorite holiday. I’m sorry Joe.” Nothing. Not even a smug Deacy grin. “Joey?” why wasn’t he answering me?

I slowly approached him and everytime I tried to lean forward to look at him, he just turned his head further away from me.

“Joe please? What more do you want me to say? You were right and I was wrong? That Ben should really be with you instead of Gwil? What can I say that will help you say something to me?” he crossed his arms over his chest and huffed at me.

I sighed sadly and looked up at him.  Okay, I get it.  Guess he’s really upset with me and I could possibly expect him to go stay with Rami and Lucy for the next month or so.

“Alright. I get it. You don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I deserve it. I was a real bitch to you. But I just want you to know that I’ll always love you, and that I hope you find the right girl for you. Even if it’s not me.” I turned and walked away from him when I suddenly felt two arms wrap around my waist and pull me up against a comfy coated chest.

“And just what makes you think that I would want anyone else?”

“What?” he gave me a cheeky grin. “Oh you son of a—” I proceeded to hit him in his chest screaming profanities at him.  All the while he kept laughing and holding my arms back.  He then proceeded to peck all over my face with kisses.

Soon my anger turned to laughter as I calmed down and surrendered to his kisses.

“You’re a real jerk sometimes you know that.”

“But you married me in the end right?” I nodded as he once again wrapped his arms around me.  “So you really talked to your dad? Not just yelled at him.”

“Yes. I—even invited him for Christmas lunch tomorrow.”

“Well look at you making progress!” he exclaimed proudly before taking off my beanie and ruffled my hair.  I exclaimed and tried to shoo his hand away from my head.  He chuckled then readjusted my hair to some level of normalcy.  “In all seriousness babe, I’m glad you took my advice.”

“Yeah. I mean like you said, I’ll never truly be happy till I let go of my anger. And I haven’t realized til now just how much that anger has been weighing me down.”

“I could see it every time your dad was even mentioned. I hate seeing you be that angry.” he embraced me from behind, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“I’m—also sorry about….you know what I said about your dad.” He placed my head over his chest.

“I forgive you. We were both angry and said the first thing that came to mind.”

“But I shouldn’t have spoken ill about your dad. He really was a sweet guy.”

“That he was.” He smiled the smile he inherited from both his parents.

“Like father like son.” I giggled.  He chuckled and took my hand then as we walked back to my bike, we both looked up and saw that snow was starting to fall.

“Well, looks like we’re getting a White Christmas after all.” He said.

“Indeed, just prepare for the avalanche of feet from the munchkin army come morning.”

“Don’t I know it. But you’re also forgetting one other kid.” He looked at me confused. “You yah big man child!”

“Hey you’re just as crazy about snow as I am!” we then proceeded to nag at each other over who was a bigger fan of the snow, even going as far as to see who would crack first tomorrow morning once we’d see the snow on the ground.

[lisatelramor]

Holiday Season

I'm weirdly enamored with the idea of Saguru baking. This is the second fic I've written with him baking... Felt like doing a holiday fic this year, so Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, happy Holiday Season if you don't, and may the new year bring better news than so much of this one.

Saguru surveyed the ingredients laid out on the counter, flour and sugar and eggs and a pound of butter all waiting to be made into something. Mum’s family recipe box with its dented corners and stiff hinges was open next to it. Ordinarily he would take what recipe he needed and shove it back into its cupboard, but there was an art to holiday baking, a process. Gran had always had a very specific order of baking her Christmastime goodies in order of what ingredients were used, whether there was a refrigeration period or not, and how long each batch needed in the oven. Mum tended to toss Gran’s careful methodology out the window and start whatever took her fancy at the moment, but Saguru had always preferred a more scientific—or at least methodical—approach to baking. It made the process go smoother and quicker and optimized resources.

He gathered what he needed to prep the mince palmiers first, turned back toward the recipe with a package of puff pastry in one hand and a jar of mince in the other and found Kuroba Kaito sitting at the kitchen table like he had been there the whole time. Saguru very carefully did not drop his ingredients, but set them on the counter with an extra bit of carefulness as he processed this addition to his environment.

“What,” Saguru asked, “are you doing in London?”

“You’re baking? I didn’t know you baked,” Kuroba said, sounding exhausted.

“It’s the holidays,” Saguru said. “Kuroba, why are you in my kitchen?”

“You see it was a bit of an accident and now I’m here and have time and hey, you live in London, so hi.” He gave a lazy salute, resting his chin on folded arms. He looked awfully content considering he was trespassing.

“You accidentally ended up in another country.”

“There were...” Kuroba waved a hand. “Extenuating circumstances involving keeping track of a weird kid and following up on a rumor and, well, here I am. You would not believe how expensive holiday plane tickets are.”

“I believe.” The real question was why Kuroba wasn’t taking a plane back to Japan already. Knowing Kuroba, he wouldn’t answer any questions directly though, and if Saguru even implied that it might have something to do with Kid, his insinuations would be deflected. It should probably alarm him more to have his classmate show up halfway around the world in Saguru’s kitchen, but it was just the sort of unexpected thing Kuroba would pull. Saguru gave a mental shrug and turned back to his baking. “Well, you’re just in time for holiday baking.”

“I can’t believe you bake.”

“It’s tradition,” Saguru said primly. “Gran started it, and Mum would be here for it, but her job has been a bit more hectic than usual lately. I thought I’d get a head start so no one would complain come Christmas that Gran’s ginger biscuits were missing.”

“What’s your mom do?” Kuroba asked. Saguru could feel his eyes following the motions as Saguru rolled out his puff pastry and opened the jar of mincemeat.

“She’s a psychologist.” Kuroba hummed like this explained things. Saguru spread mince along the pastry dough. “That’s how my parents met, actually. A criminal psychology talk at a Japanese university. Mum was studying abroad for a year in her undergrad and Otou-san was there as a secondary speaker on statistics of mental illness intersecting with violent crimes in Japan. That was long before he was a police commissioner of course.” Saguru rolled the dough, wrapped it, and put it in the freezer before grabbing a pot and the butter to start the florentines. “They talked after and got into a big row over drinks about whether criminal behaviors were nature or nurture. It must have been a good debate because Mum finished out her degree in Japan and married him within the year.”

“Huh.” Kuroba blinked sleepily at him. Butter, cream, sugar, and honey in a pot, chop the fruit as it heated, stand by with the flour and almonds. “Then they had you?”

“Eventually. After Mum got her doctorate and Otou-san got a promotion. They had rather different ideas about raising a child though. They’re divorced now, of course, but I was born and raised until elementary school in Japan.” Ordinarily Saguru didn’t talk about himself. He focused on cases he solved instead of his personal life, and that was as it should be. But with Kuroba in his kitchen and infiltrating his Christmas tradition, it felt fitting to give Kuroba a bit of background to go with everything. Kuroba knew Saguru the detective, but he never really interacted with Saguru the person. ...Saguru’s fault. He tended to see Kuroba-as-Kid rather than Kuroba-as-person as well.

“Why’d they divorce?” Kuroba asked. For all that he looked tired, he also looked interested.

“Cultural and career differences.” Mum wanted more than society wanted for her, and in the end she’d missed home. It had been an amicable split all things considered. “I visited Otou-san in the summer.” Ingredients combined, Saguru prepared several trays to pop in the oven. “How did your parents meet?”

“Oyaji met Kaa-san in Paris, saved her from a sticky situation, and swept her off her feet.”

“Hmm. Sounds exciting.” And lacking in details. It probably involved Kid. Clean a bit before the next bit. New bowl for the ginger biscuit dough, pop out one batch of florentines to cool and put in the next tray, repeat until done and pull out the palmier to slice.

“You’re actually good at this,” Kuroba commented as Saguru swapped florentines for sugar-spice dusted palmier rounds in the oven.

“Baking’s a science,” Saguru said with a nod to the kitchen scale. “Apply the proper ratios and required heat, get the desired result. Simple chemistry.” He nicked one of the cooler florentines, enjoying its buttery flavor. “And it is its own reward.”

“I can get behind that.” Kuroba gave himself a shake and stood. “Mind if I help?”

“Eat the results or help bake?” Saguru asked rhetorically. He held out the recipe card for ginger biscuits. “Start measuring the dry ingredients. I’m sure you can manage that.”

“I’ve baked before, Hakuba, I’m not going to ruin your cookies.”

Saguru pretended he didn’t notice another florentine go missing. It was surprisingly easy to work with Kuroba in the kitchen. He was quick to figure out what Saguru would need next and didn’t end up in Saguru’s way unlike the time Saguru tried baking with his aunt.

In no time the ginger dough was in refrigerator and Kuroba was measuring out flour for the shortbread dough. “Is it always so... streamlined?” Kuroba asked, waving his free hand at the neat stacks of finished baked goods and how Saguru had a bit of counter space set aside for each necessary step for each recipe.

“Hardly. Mum has the tendency to grab whatever recipe she finds first and make each one in succession. It goes faster this way though.”

“Huh. I haven’t baked since Aoko roped me into making a Christmas cake a few years ago,” Kuroba said. “That was...an experience.” He was very precise in his weight measurements, which Saguru could appreciate. He could picture Kuroba measuring chemicals for his flash bombs or smoke grenades with an equally intent expression, getting each ratio on the dot. “Baking’s not something that happens much.”

Saguru took the flour from him, blending it with sugar and butter mixture. “If it weren’t for the holiday tradition, I doubt it would happen much for me either.” Mum made him a birthday cake every year, but store bought biscuits were simpler to get ahold of with their busy lives than to take the time to bake anything by hand. Traditions were different though. Those demanded observation, all the more so since his grandmother had passed on. A way to keep her memory alive so to speak. “What do you do for holidays?”

“For Christmas?” Kuroba asked. “Not really something I celebrate unless Aoko wants to.”

“In general then.” Saguru turned out the dough and held out a hand for the rolling pin. Kuroba passed it to him without him needing to ask.

“We don’t really have traditions.” There was something flat in Kuroba’s tone, just missing the nonchalance he was going for. “We used to maybe, but those kind of stopped happening after my dad died.”

“Oh.” Saguru finished rolling dough to a stilted silence. It had almost been companionable until he’d bungled that up. Saguru almost wished Kuroba would fall into their usual mode of bickering and needling each other instead of this silence, but Kuroba just stood to the side, face in a neutral-pleasant mask and eyes tired. Saguru needed to fix this somehow.

The bag of pastry cutters had the usual Christmas shapes of stars and trees and deer and men, but there were other shapes in there too, meant for other holidays, and...yes, they did still have it. Saguru dropped a pastry cutter into Kuroba’s hands.

“A... four-leaf clover?” Kuroba said, turning it over.

“I thought you might appreciate the pun,” Saguru said. And it was Kid’s mark as well, a sideways nod of acknowledgement that at least in one way there was a family tradition of sorts. “It was meant for St. Patrick’s Day I believe, but it works well enough now on these too.”

“Because clovers scream Christmas,” Kuroba snarked. He accepted the cutter though, making a few shapes in the dough. Saguru chose stars and trees for the shortbread. The ginger biscuits could be men and reindeer.

They shared bits of dough scraps as they baked, a surprisingly companionable silence. Kuroba was still, as tired as when he had arrived, but more peaceful and less harried. He rolled a bit of dough into a ball and ate it, staring at nothing and his mind somewhere far away. It was rare to see an introspective Kuroba, as rare as a quiet Kuroba. Kuroba was energy and madcap chaos. Bright colors and flashing cards drawing the eye, always filling a room with his presence and impossible to ignore.

“Following a lead, hmm?” Saguru asked.

“If you’re trying to get me to confess to something...” Kuroba said, glancing at Saguru from the corner of his eye.

“At the moment, no. It’s poor timing though.”

Kuroba shrugged. “As good a time as any. No classwork to worry about coming due until January. Bit more than a week away leaves plenty of time.”

“Was your lead successful?”

There was the slightest slump to Kuroba’s shoulders, body hunching in on itself as if Kuroba was too tired to completely control his response. Saguru got another shrug. “What do you think?”

Right. That would be a touchy subject then. He cast about for something that wouldn’t ruin the somewhat comfortable atmosphere. “I went to see a magic show last week,” Saguru said.

“Yeah?” Kuroba stopped squishing cookie dough between his fingers to listen, head tilted to one side. “I thought you detective types hated magic shows.”

“It’s a lot harder to get caught up in them when you’re well aware that there’s a logical explanation for everything you’re seeing,” Saguru corrected. “That doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate a show.” He ignored the subtle eye roll from Kuroba. “At any rate, I was in the area for a case and had free time after it... I might have been feeling a bit nostalgic for Japan at the time.” He’d only gone to Kuroba’s school for half a year before transferring back to London, but it surprised him sometimes how much he missed it. Sometimes he wondered if he should just finish out high school there, but he knew he’d miss London too. There wasn’t a quick fix when your life took up time on different sides of the world. He checked the biscuits, found they needed a bit longer. “The magician was nowhere near as good as you. Your classroom antics were on par with his best illusions.”

“Of course, I’m one of the best magicians out there,” Kuroba said.

It wasn’t empty bragging any more than Saguru calling himself a good detective was. They’d both put effort and time into building up their skills in their chosen professions. “If you’re ever on stage one day, I would like to see what you perform.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You can take it as one,” Saguru said. “I can’t exactly turn off my observations.” He took the biscuits from the oven and slid the parchment paper off onto wire racks to cool. When he turned back around, Kuroba had a grin on par to some of the ones Saguru had seen Kid sporting at heists. “What?”

“Just thinking about ways I could short circuit your brain into just enjoying the show instead of picking it apart.”

Saguru raised an eyebrow. “And I just said that trying to understand doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the show. Besides, what goes through your mind when you see a new trick? Surely you’re trying to figure out how they did it too.”

“Usually I’m mostly ‘dang, that was really cool’ and I think about how they did it after the show is over.” Kuroba brought out the ginger biscuit dough and armed himself with the rolling pin.

“After, during,” Saguru said with a dismissive wave. “It amounts to the same thing; trying to understand the mystery of how it worked.”

“Killjoy,” Kuroba said.

“Realist,” Saguru countered.

“You’ll have to come back to Japan sometime for that show.”

Saguru smiled. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

The rest of the baking went quickly and progressed into decorating shortbread and ginger biscuits with Gran’s icing recipe dyed in jewel-bright colors. Kuroba took an inordinate amount of pleasure in making the ones he decorated as bright as possible. He was artistic as was to be expected, and they came out pleasing to the eye. Saguru’s were less bright, but more uniform. ‘Boring,’ if Kuroba’s opinion counted. Saguru looked at them and saw ‘traditional.’

By the time Mum finally arrived home from work, he and Kuroba had decorated cookies spread across the whole kitchen table and were making a bit of a mess out of decorating the Christmas cake as Saguru found that using a pastry bag was a bit harder than he remembered last doing it at twelve with Gran’s hands guiding his through the motions—the cake was usually Mum’s touch. Kuroba had taken over and the mess Saguru made was quickly becoming something a bit more elegant.

They both looked up when Mum walked into the room. “Wow. Looks like someone was busy,” she said. “How on earth did you manage to get all the holiday baking done in one afternoon?”

“It’s not that hard to do, Mum, Gran always managed.”

“Your grandmother could have forced time to bend for all I know. She was certainly stubborn enough.” Mum gave Saguru a quick hug before turning to Kuroba. “Hullo, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

In a blink Kuroba was all charm, masks Saguru hadn’t even realized were gone back in place. With a flick of his wrist, Kuroba offered Saguru’s mother a flower. “Kuroba Kaito—or Kaito Kuroba since this is England.” He spoke with slightly accented English; Kuroba must have been practicing his language skills lately since the last time Saguru heard him use English, it hadn’t been anywhere near as smoothly. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Mum took the flower with a smile and both eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “Well aren’t you the charmer. Saguru, you didn’t mention you were having a friend over.”

“Kuroba ran into some trouble with his flight home to Japan,” Saguru said, “and since I happened to live in London, it made more sense to stay the night here than in a hotel. He’ll be taking the guest room.” There was a flash of surprise on Kuroba’s face. Surely he didn’t think Saguru would toss him out? On Christmas Eve no less?

“A friend from Japan even,” Mum said, eyebrows creeping higher. “Well, whatever the circumstances, we’re glad to have you. Mind if I help finish up the cake? Can’t have you boys doing everything.”

Kuroba surrendered the frosting. “Go right ahead.”

“Lovely. I’ll finish this up and we can have a slice for breakfast in the morning.”

“Isn’t that a little...sweet?” Kuroba asked. He watched how her hands worked, making practiced dollops of frosting to create a snowy landscape out of Saguru’s messy work and Kuroba’s more careful waves.

“I was thinking a bit more on the alcohol content,” Saguru said.

“The point of holidays are to live a little,” Mum said pragmatically. “Why not have dessert to start the day? Or we could have some of your biscuits. Very nice decorating by the way. Bright. I can tell Saguru didn’t mix the colors this year.” She gave Kuroba a grin and a wink and started sculpting tiny snowmen.

“Boozy cake,” Kuroba said, eying the cake with new appreciation. “That’s a tradition I could get behind. Sounds a lot more fun than strawberry cream cake or a cake roll.”

“It’s funny how two of the traditional desserts require taking as much candied fruit and nuts as you can stuff into a confection and dousing it in copious amounts of alcohol,” Saguru said drily. “For the record, it’s peach brandy, and no, we don’t make it strong enough to get drunk off a slice of it.”

“Dang, a missed opportunity,” Kuroba deadpanned.

Mum laughed. “I like this one, Saguru, you’ll have to invite him back.”

“Of course.” He...wouldn’t mind Kuroba returning. This had been nice.

“Don’t worry about the last of the dishes,” Mum said with a nod at the few Saguru hadn’t cleaned up as he went. “I can do them. Go relax since you did all this work.” Said the woman who worked a ten hour day today, Saguru thought, but Mum did like frosting the cake and he knew the power of small, mindless tasks to unwind after a long day. “And Kuroba, you’re welcome here as long as you need to stay, ok?”

“Thanks.”

Saguru meant to leave Kuroba at the guest room, let him get the rest he clearly needs, but instead found himself lingering awkwardly in the doorway after pointing out where Kuroba could find things he might need.

Kuroba looked back at him, not seeming to feel that same awkwardness or uncertainty of what, exactly, they were—friends? Rivals? Acquaintances? He looked like he was trying to will Saguru’s motives from him by power of his gaze alone, and wasn’t that something of a role reversal.

Saguru cleared his throat. “You...probably could use some rest. I’ll just be—”

“Hakuba,” Kuroba said, cutting him off. “Why did you go back to London?”

Saguru blinked, startled. “Why?”

“You went through the trouble of transferring schools and getting into the police and everything,” Kuroba said. “Seems like a lot of effort just to chase Kid for a few months.”

There were no emotions slipping past Kuroba’s masks now, whatever relaxed state of mind he had had was lost when Mum arrived. When Saguru was in Japan, his life had been taken up by Nakamori’s loud, vicious enthusiasm as he chased Kid in the evenings and days spent in class observing Kuroba laughing, Kuroba flirting with Aoko, Kuroba avoiding Koizumi, Kuroba hiding the depth of his brilliance in flashy smiles and flashy tricks. He’d seen Kuroba joyful, jealous, angry, and nervous. He’d seen Kid triumphant and gloating and seen him pale with fear and regret. There was a phone call on a Paris morning and a lone glove hidden at the scene of a crime. Most people thought arrogance was Saguru’s biggest flaw as a detective, but Saguru knew it was too much empathy. He avoided most serial crime, worked murders because it was generally easier to have sympathy for the victim than the killer, and Kid had always been careful not to harm the officers that chased him, tried to keep property damage to a minimum, and almost always returned what he took. He might not know what Kid was trying to accomplish, but he knew it was something Kid felt deeply in enough to make a target of himself even if it sometimes terrified him. He knew Kuroba enough to say he was not a bad person.

Saguru looked away. “I never intended to stay in Japan,” he said, an honest answer if not a complete one. “And I had obligations here to fulfil.”

“Like baking holiday cookies.”

A tiny smile crossed his face without him meaning to. “Yes, like holiday baking.”

“Hmm,” Kuroba hummed like he didn’t believe that was all but he wasn’t going to push it. “Would you really invite me back?”

“Yes,” Saguru said. There was no hesitation in that at least. “I don’t mind you being here.”

“Don’t mind,” Kuroba parroted, sarcastic and slow. “Ringing endorsement that you want me here.”

Saguru rolled his eyes. “Fine. I enjoyed baking with you and would enjoy doing something similar again should the occasion arise.”

The mask split into a smile—a real one so far as Saguru could tell. “Cool. Thanks for the room. I am going to go pass out now.”

There was an awkward pause before Saguru realized he was still standing in the doorway. He stepped back. “Goodnight, Kuroba.”

“Night, Hakuba.” Kuroba waved and shut the door.

Saguru wandered back down to Mum.

“Not spending time with your friend?” she asked. She was working her way through dishes now, the cake fully frosted with little details added on with nonpareils and gel icing. Two smiling snowmen surrounded by flowers made of snow.

“I believe he’s tired.”

“Hmm.” The soothing clink of dishes and the hiss of water from the faucet. Familiar background noises in a kitchen filled with Kuroba’s unfamiliarly-bright frosted biscuits. “Are the clovers a pun on his name?” Mum asked, a nod to the unconventional shape for the season.

“I thought it might amuse him.”

“He seems nice enough, though I don’t think he trusts me.” She kept washing dishes, not giving Saguru and facial cues to draw from. “He’s very good at hiding what he’s feeling, isn’t he? If I hadn’t glanced around the corner before I entered the room, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Yes. He is good at that.” Saguru sat at the table. Mum rinsed the last dish, setting it on the drain board and wiped her hands dry.

“So one of your Japanese classmates just happens to be in London.”

“A pleasant surprise.”

“I think you mentioned a Kuroba before.”

“I may have.”

Mum planted her hands on her hips. “Saguru...”

Saguru rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t press for details. He showed up and I wasn’t going to turn him away.”

“It would be a bit rude at Christmas,” Mum said and he wasn’t sure if it was straight sincerity or subtle sarcasm. She sighed. “Well, he is welcome, whatever his reasons. And he’s welcome at the family party tomorrow as well if he sticks around.”

“Thank you.”

Mum patted his cheek affectionately. “Now, I can’t believe you didn’t leave any baking for me!”

Saguru huffed. “If I didn’t the baking, you’d still be baking by Christmas.”

“A bit of midnight baking never hurt anyone.”

“Last year you were at it at three in the morning.”

“Saguru, if you say I have poor time management skills again...”

Saguru gave her his best innocent look. It wouldn’t have fooled him, let alone his mother. The hand on his cheek became a light swat to the back of his head and he ducked with it, laughing. They talked about their day until it was time for bed, snitching biscuits to munch on without guilt. Holidays were for indulging.

There was no light on in Kuroba’s room showing in the crack under the door when Saguru passed the guest room. He said a quiet goodnight in its direction all the same.

*

In the morning, Saguru couldn’t say he was surprised to find the guest room empty. Everything was neatly folded back in place as if no one had ever been there, except for a used towel where Kuroba must have made use of the shower. Downstairs there were a handful of biscuits missing and a tiny, presumptuous sliver taken from the Christmas cake that had been filled in with icing to the point where it was almost unnoticeable. On the counter was a note on the nice stationary they had stashed in the guest room’s desk and another one of Kuroba’s pretty paper roses.

Hakuba,

Thanks for letting me spend the night and crash your baking. You’re not so bad after all. Sorry to up and leave without saying goodbye, but I had a plane to catch early in the morning. Funnily, Christmas Day tickets cost a lot less than Christmas Eve. Tell your mom thanks for me as well, and that that cake is good—very alcoholic and different, but good. I looked Christmas cakes up on my phone and wow, didn’t know aged cakes were a thing. Anyway, if I’m ever in London again let’s meet up. And if you’re in Japan and ever need somewhere to sleep that isn’t your home, I have a guest room too.

Merry Christmas!

It was signed with a little clover doodle. It felt like he should be comparing handwriting with Kid’s heist notes. On the back was a post script, written in cramped Japanese that Saguru had to squint at to read.

Check in the electric kettle. This is still not a confession.

Saguru checked the kettle.

There was a gemstone there, a sapphire set in delicate golden filigree. It wasn’t anything Saguru had heard reported stolen, and was willing to bet he would hear about in the next few days.

Really, now, Kuroba wasn’t even trying to pretend at all. A tiny irrational part of him felt a bit warm at the thought that he had a bit of Kuroba’s trust. Saguru pocketed the gem and scribbled out the message in Japanese on the back. It might take Mum a bit longer to read, but she was still fluent in Japanese.

Not a bit too soon, it seemed because Mum slouched into the kitchen, in full disarray as she always was before her first cup of tea. “No Kuroba?” she asked, blinking around the room sleepily.

Saguru held up the note. “It seemed he had a plane to catch.”

“Ah. I’d have sent him off with something if I knew.”

Saguru would wait until she noticed the missing sliver of cake to pass along Kuroba’s message.

“Happy Christmas,” Mum said on her way to fill up the electric kettle—if Mum had been the one to wake up first.... It was just like Kuroba to have luck in his favor.

“Happy Christmas.”

Perhaps, Saguru thought giving the note in his hand one last glance, he would have to have another trip to Japan before his usual one in the summer. Just to visit.

It couldn’t hurt to check in on what Kid was doing either.

Saguru smiled and tucked the note away.