Secret Santa Gift for signpainter1!
Happy Holidays, signpainter1! I hope you like this goofy little ficlet, and I hope it's what you wanted!
From: @ dingshlong (twitter)
It was that fucking look, Nezumi decided.
The one that had caused a little old lady to teach him how to mend his favorite cardigan, stitch by stitch. The one that had street urchins pausing, when they could have easily made him a target. The one that furrowed his brow right now.
That pitiful, clueless look on Shion’s face was what was causing the bulk of Nezumi’s woes.
—
Nezumi and Shion had set off from their little studio apartment in the rebuilt West Block in the early morning. Shion had mentioned during dinner the night before that he had some last-minute holiday shopping to do, and he wanted Nezumi’s opinion on a gift for his mother, Karan. While Nezumi did his usual disaffected posturing, he and Shion both knew it was unnecessary.
They wandered the holiday market, and Nezumi sipped from a paper cup of spiced cider while Shion flitted helplessly from stall to stall.
There were dozens of wooden cubbies set into the street, which had been blocked off just for foot traffic. Draped on the roofs of the stalls were garlands of multicolored pom-poms and popcorn, which the occasional bird would stop to nibble before being spooked by boisterous chatter from below. The air smelled of wood smoke and cloves from the candle shop and the spice seller respectively, of pine from the Christmas tree peddler and fried dough from the jolly ladies manning the funnel cake stand. Even the bushes and saplings were strewn haphazardly with tinsel, ornaments, and lights. It was a project Shion had spearheaded some years before, in one of the years since Nezumi left the fledgling city, and it flourished even without his input. It was a part of the new traditions taking root in No.6, and genuinely one of Nezumi’s favorites.
While Nezumi was tossing his empty cup into one of the readily available trash bins, Shion had been corralled by a woman selling fantastic hand-dyed silk scarves. She was draping fabrics over his pale skin to let the fibers catch the light, all while Shion protested half-heartedly. Despite his standing in the city as one of the de-facto founders, his modest public servant’s salary would hardly allow for such an extravagant gift, and he knew it.
Nezumi caught her practiced sales pitch as he wandered closer.
“Yes, you look absolutely stunning, I wish I had a model half as becoming to wear my scarves full-time! Especially in the snow, your hair complements the winter shades so readily.” The matron pulled a soft rosy pink scarf from the rack behind her and wound it snugly around Shion’s throat. He was blushing now, and his snake-like scar was turning an even deeper shade of pink.
“She has a real eye, this one.” Nezumi called out, smirking. He sauntered over to the pair, his steel eyes glinting with amusement. “I think you could use something a bit more subtle, though. In a nice shade of brown.”
Though years had passed and Shion was no longer the child Nezumi met on that stormy night, he still reacted to Nezumi the way he had come to expect. His cheeks puffed out, ever so slightly, and he looked up to Nezumi with a sullen pout. It was just what Nezumi hoped he would do. Meanwhile, the stout matron’s eyes sparkled with delight.
“Oh, I know just the one! Stay right there, dear, don’t you move!”
She whirled around and began digging furiously through a pile of fabric. Nezumi snickered.
“Is this personal shopping we’re doing here, or are we still trying to find the perfect gift for your mother?”
Nezumi noticed that Shion was absentmindedly running his fingers over the fabric at his neck, and his look of embarrassment was slowly morphing into something between hopelessness and shame.
“You know, I really don’t want to waste her time. I don’t think I could afford one of these even if I only ate soup at meals.” Shion rubbed the back of his neck, an anxious habit he could never quite shake.
Nezumi leaned in close and unwound the scarf from his neck, gently and careful not to let his cold fingertips brush Shion’s flushed skin. He found a small paper tag and flipped it over. He saw the digits scratched out in blue pen and whistled quietly.
“Unfortunately, my prince, even with both our salaries we would be hard-pressed to rationalize this kind of gift.”
Shion’s shoulders sagged and a look passed over his face. “Let’s put this back and try to find something else, then.”
Nezumi looked Shion over once, giving him a soft smile. He folded the scarf with practiced movements and began to place it back on one of the glossy tables when a hand reached out to grab it from his hands. Nezumi whipped his head around to see a tall person, clad in a plush cream-colored sweater and garishly tight jeans, wind his arm around Shion’s shoulders.
“Come now, no need for that sad little face. Would a half-off discount sweeten the deal for you?” The man took Shion’s hands in one of his, pulling them out in front of him to drop the neatly folded scarf into his palms. Shion blinked in shock.
“Wh-what?”
The man’s wavy chestnut hair was bound loosely in a french braid over his shoulder. His tawny brown skin was dotted with darker freckles, and his amber eyes glinted with a predatory intensity. One that Shion completely overlooked.
The man patted Shion on his soft head, smiling. It was a Cheshire grin to Nezumi, whose hackles instantly rose at the man’s easy contact.
“Let me get this all wrapped up for you, hmm? I couldn’t bear to see you go home without it.”
Shion’s mouth dropped open. “Th-that’s– you don’t need to do that! It’s surely worth more!”
“Nonsense, I‘ve never seen someone wear one of Miss Coleridge’s scarves as effortlessly as you do. And if your mother was the one who gave you that pretty face, I’m sure she’ll suit it just as well.”
When Shion began to protest, the man’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “Consider it a favor, to me? Don’t worry, I can wrap it up pretty for you.”
The tall man winked, and Nezumi briefly saw red. He stepped closer, nearly onto Shion’s toes.
“I’m sorry,” he hissed. “I didn’t catch your name?”
“Nezumi, there’s not much room–”
The tall man’s gaze pulled from giving Shion his best smoulder. He looked Nezumi over once, twice, and cranked his charm up a notch. “It’s Grant, I work with Miss Coleridge in her studio across town. And you are?”
Nezumi had to physically stop himself from decking this guy in the face, grabbing Shion by the arm and yanking him bodily back to their apartment. He was a grown man, for God’s sake, he could handle some overconfident prettyboy! Nezumi gathered his composure and switched tactics.
“It doesn’t matter who I am, why are you giving away product at such a discount? Wouldn’t you be giving your boss a hard time?”
“I’m just full-up on Christmas cheer, you know, and I’m sure my boss would just love to see someone really enjoy one of her creations.” Grant shrugged, smile tight now but ever-present and not losing intensity.
Shion looked to Nezumi, his eyes desperate. Almost instantly, Nezumi deflated. “Nezumi, it would be perfect–”
Grant clapped his hands triumphantly. “Lovely! I’ll get this all wrapped up, you come with me, let’s see what kinds of bows and paper I have ready.” He steered Shion, ever-clueless, to the back of the stall with his wallet in hand while Nezumi boiled.
—
On Christmas morning, Nezumi eyed the tiny package. It was wrapped up in a gold foil wrapping paper, with a large curly-cue bow sitting on top. Shion had tucked it near the back of the pile early that morning, and now after all of the other presents had been opened this one sat alone, nearly forgotten. To Nezumi, it was as if it could grow legs and wreak havoc at any moment.
“Nezumi, did you want any cocoa, dear?”
Nezumi looked to the nearby doorway, where Karan was holding a navy-blue porcelain mug out to him. He smiled sheepishly and accepted the beverage.
He was pleasantly surprised to find little marshmallows floating on the top.
Shion padded out of the kitchen then, a knit beanie on his head. It was a gift from Nezumi, who determined that if Shion was going to continue walking to work in the winter, he had better keep warm. It was one of Nezumi’s first handmade projects, and while there were a couple inconsistencies here and there, Shion had positively glowed when he opened it, and he had refused to take it off. Nezumi’s chest warmed at the sight.
“Oh, Mom, there’s one last gift under the tree for you! It’s from us, here,” Shion retrieved the box and placed it gingerly on Karan’s lap. As she undid the ribbon holding the bow in place, a tiny card flitted to the floor.
“Oh, what’s this?” Karan flipped the card over and her eyebrows shot up.
“What is it?” Shion asked, reaching out and taking the card. He blinked owlishly and furrowed his brow.
“Hm?” Nezumi hummed questioningly.
“It’s a card from the shop we got Mom’s gift from, but it has a man’s name on it? And a phone number?”
It was then that Nezumi decided that, yes, that clueless look was a real menace.