Contemplations over Cookie Dough and Christmas Time in the Cabin
Christmas Writing Prompt themed one-shot.
Kazuto and Asuna share a tranquil moment in their new home. A well-earned, much needed reward.
“Don’t. You. Dare.” Asuna whipped around to face Kazuto, drawing her blade from its sheath. The look in her eyes was deadly, fires burning hotter than any dungeon he had seen decorated her irises. “That’s it,” he thought to himself, “there is nothing more terrifying than the woman who stands before me.” He had said it many a time before, yet every time he did, that fear became admiration, and that admiration reminded him of just how grateful he was to stand by her side. He would not want to fight her in earnest. Luck be with the poor sap caught on the wrong end of her blade.
He shuddered at the thought, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Alright. I won’t come any closer.” He sighed, slowly dropping his hands to his sides before darting under her arm.
Thinking he escaped the zone of danger, he shot out his arm, vying for the prize so close at hand. He was met with a resounding “thwack!” His fingers smarted obnoxiously, his poor, innocent digits were crushed under the pressure of Asuna’s lightning fast reflexes. The burning pain staggered up his tendons, causing him to drop to his knees on the floor, clutching his hand to his heart. Okay, so he was being dramatic. Why shouldn’t he try to gain some sympathy points?
Asuna sneered at him, “I told you. Don’t. Touch.” Kazuto rolled over to face her, cradling his injured fingers to his chest. He looked up at her with his best impression of a sopping wet kitten in a cardboard box. Outside in the rain. Alone. He let his hair dangle around his midnight eyes as he attempted to appeal to her softer, more nurturing nature- “Oh, don’t you start with that.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing at his childish display. She was grateful though. He was finally starting to act like himself again. They had been through so much, the two of them. And yet, here they were, facing their biggest challenge yet: Preparing to host a Christmas party.
He started up again, attempting a feint to get to the mixing bowl behind her. She parried, “If you eat any more cookie dough we won’t have enough cookies to decorate for everyone. Help me roll them out or go decorate something.” She gestured unenthusiastically to the remainder of the space, filled with big storage boxes filled with shiny and sparkly additions to their new home.
They’d finally done it this year. They found a little lake place like the one they bought in Aincrad all those years ago. The reality of that wasn’t lost on either of them, having lived so many lives over with one another, this reality, however tangible it may seem to others, was often a point of concern for the pair. They would wake up from nightmares consoling one another, reminding each other that this is the world they are truly living in, the lives they truly lead. Not to say that the experiences they’ve had up to this point haven’t been real, but that this reality isn’t a virtual existence.
As Kazuto busied himself setting up the dining area, rather haphazardly at that, Asuna couldn’t help the smile that crept on to her face. Finally, the memories they’re making aren’t under a death threat. A gun, a sword, a magic psychopath, or a super computer world domination scheme. These memories are pure, untainted by blood stains and death, by betrayal and battle fields. This peace was earned. This slice of heaven, straight out of a bad Christmas romcom was theirs. Finally and truly.
She continued rolling out cookie dough and pressing shapes into the slabs. Carefully moving each little snowflake and gingerbread man to the oven trays for baking. She hummed as she worked, dancing around the kitchen, in her element, hair tied up in a barely contained bun. And then she hit something solid in front of her.
She looked up from her work to find Kazuto, grinning silly over her, dangling a mangled piece of mistletoe from some forgotten holiday box of years past. He looked positively proud of himself, standing before her in his Christmas pajamas, hair tousled from their previous altercation, with his dried up, shriveled up, saddest-excuse-for-a-plant mistletoe that he found. The sight was akin to a young cat, presenting its owner with the toy mouse it had “hunted” and “killed.” God she loved him.
She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips as she cupped his face. His arm moved around her waist, holding her in an all-too-familiar embrace. She kissed him gently, forcing herself to move out of his grasp. There was still much work to be done after all! He groaned as she pulled away, tapping him lightly on the nose.
“We have guests in two hours, play time can wait until later.” She spun back to her work in the kitchen, a deep blush settled on her cheeks. No matter how many years, how many lifetimes they have been together, he still made her blush like a teenager. Not that she would admit that.
