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A Christmas Kaoru

Summary:

It's the holiday season, and Kaoru, a mall employee, isn't feeling very festive. Can the dashing Santa Claus outside his shop reignite his holiday spirit?

aka the mall santa joe fic you didn't ask for but absolutely needed

Notes:

my secret santa gift for River! merry christmas, i hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The elves are back. For the third day in a row, terrorizing Kaoru. Well, they aren’t terrorizing him intentionally. That would require a level of awareness that these two simply don’t possess. Nevertheless, they are menaces, and the headache Kaoru developed the moment they first stepped into his store hasn’t gone away for three straight days.

It’s not that Kaoru doesn’t like Christmas. It’s just that he prefers his holidays less loud and colorful. He prefers holidays that can be spent lounging on a chaise, sipping a full glass of red wine and listening to his favorite records. Holidays that aren’t celebrated for an entire month before they occur. Holidays that don’t have music and mascots.

This side of the mall used to be peaceful at Christmas. Sure, they had their share of decorations, but the mall administration kept the festivities on the other side, near the food court, away from Bath and Body Works Store #888, Kaoru’s pride and joy, where he attained a manager position in under three months of working there. Yes, that was partially due to timing: the prior manager quit in a fit of rage right before Kaoru’s promotion. But Kaoru liked to think that was fate; he was far more suited for the job, and besides, that man hadn’t known soy wax from paraffin. Imagine!

Things have changed this year. To drum up more business on Kaoru’s side of the mall, some dimwitted knucklehead decided that the best course of action was to move the large tree over here. Which would have been fine, had it only been the tree. But of course, it’s not only the tree, it’s everything that comes with the tree. The garland. The reindeer. The photographer. The screaming children. The exhausted parents. The Santa.

The elves.

The elves, who are currently spraying each other with body mist – they call it perfume, but they’re wrong – and laughing when they inhale it. As always, one of them, the blue-haired one, has his cap pulled down over his ears, his striped socks peeking out of his too-short lime green pants that only reach his ankles. The red-haired one wears his hat askew, and he wears striped tights instead of socks, a green dress instead of pants. Kaoru isn’t sure if he chose the dress or if the mall ran out of well-tailored elf costumes (an oxymoron, Kaoru suspects). They both have bells on their collars, bells on their pointed shoes, and dopey smiles on their faces. Perhaps there is a sweet story in there somewhere, about the mall elves who fall in love, but this is Kaoru’s story, not the elves’.

The red-haired one reaches for another bottle, the Japanese Cherry Blossom scent, the top seller, and that? That, Kaoru cannot abide.

“Out,” Kaoru orders, stepping away from the desk. He doesn’t fear leaving the register, because unlike the other chumps in this mall, his register is manned by Carla, an AI Kaoru himself designed. Kaoru needs no other employees; Carla does it all.

Which frees up Kaoru to approach the teen elves with his most menacing expression, the one a recent Yelp reviewer called ‘unsettling’, and snatch the body mist away from their grubby hands. Metaphorically, that is. Their hands are not actually grubby. These are remarkably clean elves.

The red-haired teenage elf looks at Kaoru with wide, guilty eyes, while the blue-haired one gives him a level glare. “S-sorry!” the red one stammers, his cheeks turning almost as bright as his hair. “We were just, we weren’t stealing, we just wanted to—”

Kaoru feels a little bad for him. But he’s got a reputation to uphold, so after carefully replacing the body mist on the shelf, he grabs both elves by their jingling collars and drags them out of the store.

There are several families lingering around the tree, but they must have their own problems, because they don’t pay any attention to the man dragging two overgrown elves through the mall. The tree’s concierge desk, like everything else in this faux winter wonderland, is decorated with tacky felt snowflakes and silver and gold ‘ornaments’, which Kaoru suspects are simply spray-painted Styrofoam balls. Kaoru has a whole speech prepared, except he doesn’t get to use it, because there’s a sign on the desk that says “We’re on Break! Check Back Soon!” A cartoon gingerbread man, broken in half, illustrates this message rather gruesomely.

Kaoru lets go of the elves and wipes his hands on his pants – pressed linen, not that anyone’s asked. “Stay,” he tells the elves, as he marches onto the patchy red carpet, past the plastic candy cane forest, past the wire reindeer, and up to the tree, where Santa’s throne is nestled among piles of gifts and a big red bag stuffed with – Kaoru assumes – newspaper. “I need you to do something for me,” Kaoru announces.

Santa looks up. Kaoru hasn’t gotten a good look at him before, because he has a store to run, and no reason to look at sad old men playing dress up. Except. This is not your garden-variety Santa, the coffee-breathed kind of old man Kaoru not-so-fondly remembers visiting each Christmas to ask for gifts. Kaoru always thought the whole thing was uncouth: sitting on a strange man’s lap to beg for gifts while some other poor soul snapped photographs that Kaoru’s parents would add to their ever-growing photo album. Kaoru never smiled for those pictures. Why should he? Do hostages smile when their captors film them for ransom videos?

Anyway. This Santa. This Santa is muscular, nearly bursting out of the suit – was a tailor ever consulted for this affair? – with green curls poking out of his crooked red and white cap and the kind of smile that could start fires. Despite the white beard, which is obviously fake, Kaoru can tell he’s young, probably about the same age as him. Kaoru hates him immediately. Santa raises a cocky eyebrow and says, “You’re a bit older than my usual target audience. Ruder, too.”

“I wouldn’t have to be rude if you could just control your employees.” Kaoru points an accusatory finger back at the elves, who wait sheepishly by the desk. The red one’s hat slips off, and the blue one picks it up to gently place it back on his head. “They’ve been coming into my store for the past three days and molesting my merchandise.”

In a lower voice, Santa says, “I wouldn’t throw words like ‘molesting’ around so casually here.” He inclines his head towards the waiting families, who still aren’t listening, but Kaoru understands.

“Anyway,” Kaoru says. “I would appreciate it if you could keep them in line. Or not in line. Out of my store. They can harass someone else.”

“You know, I’d love to,” Santa says, “but they’re not really my employees. More like coworkers.”

Kaoru clicks his tongue. Of course this man has teenage coworkers. Pathetic. “Where’s your manager, then?”

Santa scratches his fake beard. “Great question. On break. Probably sneaking in a coffee date with the candy shop manager. I don’t know. I get paid by the hour.”

Kaoru is about to utter a snappy comeback about that, but then he remembers that he, too, is paid by the hour, and that Carla will be monitoring his absence and docking his pay accordingly. “Well,” he says briskly. “Please pass the message on to your manager, then.”

“Sure thing, Gumdrop.”

With an indignant huff, Kaoru turns on his heel, retraces his steps, and heads back to the sanctuary of his store. He settles in behind his desk and recounts the tale to Carla, who tells him that he has a 37% chance of being seduced by the mall Santa before the week is out. Kaoru promptly powers Carla down, muttering something about glitches.

***

One day passes. Two. No sign of the elves. Kaoru’s on edge the whole time, expecting them to appear any moment. On the third day, an hour before closing, they still haven’t shown up, and Kaoru begins to relax. He’s really done it. He’s solved a problem with one simple conversation.

Maybe he should try that more often.

And then, moments later, the elves appear. This time, instead of going to the displays, the red one marches right up to the front with the blue one trailing behind him, slams his hands on the counter with his fingers splayed, and bows towards Kaoru, saying, “We’re so sorry we bothered you, sir! It won’t happen again, we promise!”

“Stand up straight,” Kaoru replies. “You’re embarrassing yourself.” He refrains from saying that it is happening again, right now.

“I told you, you didn’t need to bow,” the blue one mutters while the red one stands up. His hat is crooked again. The blue one adjusts it for him.

“I’m Reki,” the red one says. “This is Langa. We’re sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“Right, right,” Reki says. He’s a mess, but in a way that would be lovable if Kaoru had a parental bone in his body. He runs a hand through his hair and the hat falls off. Langa picks it up and holds it. “Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?”

“You could buy something,” Kaoru suggests, gesturing around at the store. There are no other customers. The only customers all day, all week, aside from these two, have been families biding their time until the line for Santa dies down. However, Kaoru is hesitant to tell his sales woes to these teenagers.

Reki drums his fingers on the counter nervously. “I, um, we don’t have any money.”

“Then what are you doing here? Did he send you in to mock me, is that it?” He, of course, being Santa, or rather, the man portraying Santa. Kaoru doesn’t know his name and doesn’t want to.

“Who?” Reki asks. “Joe? Or Oka?”

As Langa elbows Reki, Kaoru says, “I don’t know who those people are.”

“Oh! Oka’s our manager. He takes the pictures. Joe’s our Santa Claus. His name’s not really Joe, but he won’t tell us his real name.”

Kaoru looks between them, over-eager Reki and reticent Langa hovering protectively behind him, and decides that they’re not smart or conniving enough to be harassing him intentionally, or of their own volition. Also, he preferred them when they tested products. At least then they didn’t speak to him. “Apology accepted,” Kaoru says, for possibly the first time in his life. “Now, please, get out of my store.” They turn to go, and Kaoru adds, “Wait! You. Langa.” Langa turns around. “Put it back.”

Langa frowns and reaches into his pocket. He puts the lip balm that Reki had been eying back on the display.

“Thank you,” Kaoru says.

They leave, and Kaoru leans against the wall, mind reeling. It seemed innocent enough, their coming in here, but Kaoru can’t shake the feeling that they were put up to it. It nags at him all through closing, and although he doesn’t mean to, when he turns around after lowering the gate and sees Santa – Joe – lounging on the Santa throne, well. He simply must investigate.

“We’re closed,” another man says as Kaoru approaches. He wears a camera around his neck, and Kaoru assumes this is Oka. The man looks too affable to be responsible for sending teenagers to harass Kaoru.

“Let him through,” a familiar voice says.

Oka shrugs and lifts the rope to let Kaoru approach Santa.

“You again,” Joe says. His mouth is doing something between a smirk and a grin. Kaoru can’t tell if he’s annoyed or pleased to see him, and that bothers him. Kaoru doesn’t like being unable to read people. “You here to sit on my lap and tell me your Christmas wish list?”

Honestly, Kaoru should have expected it, but he didn’t, and it catches him so off-guard that he forgets how to speak for a moment. It doesn’t help that Joe has shed the red jacket and is sitting there in only a white tank top with his muscular arms out for all to see. This is distracting, not because Kaoru is intrigued, but because it is unexpected. So, instead of the pithy comment Kaoru intended to make, he says, “I learned your name.”

This was, Kaoru learns immediately, the wrong thing to say. Joe leans back in his chair, hooks his right ankle over his left knee, crosses his arms, and says, “Oh, did you now? Did the elves tell you?”

Kaoru has to pause for a moment to reflect on how bizarre this all is. Here he is, speaking to Santa, but not a storybook kindly old man Santa, a Santa whose motto in life appears to be ‘guns out regardless of whether the sun is out’, a Santa whose name is Joe except not really, and that Santa is casually asking him if the elves paid him a visit.

Kaoru longs for the safety of Bath and Body Works store #888.

Kaoru regains some of his wit. “They did. They said you go by Joe, but that’s an alias. Personally, I would like to know what name I should use when I report you to the mall administration for harassment and dress code violations.” He points at Joe’s bare arms.

Santa-Joe-whatever-his-name-is gestures around at the closed mall. “It’s after hours. No one cares what I do after hours. I keep the jacket on all day. Gets hot in there.”

“I see you’re not disputing the harassment claim.”

“Look, I’m assuming you think I sent them to bother you?”

Kaoru nods. “Why else would they have come back? To apologize? That seems unlike teenagers.”

“You haven’t met Reki Kyan,” Joe says. “And where Reki goes, Langa follows. That’s all I’ve got for you. You know what I think?”

“What do you think?”

Joe uncrosses his legs and leans forward, beckoning Kaoru closer, but Kaoru doesn’t budge. Eventually, Joe drops his hand and says, “I think you wanted an excuse to see me again.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kaoru says, but the back of his neck feels prickly, the way it always does when he’s lying and his body knows it before his mind does.

“Okay, fine,” Joe says, raising his hands in defeat. “I guess I won’t see you back here then, right? Since we’re done here?”

“Obviously.”

“Well, then. Merry Christmas, Kaoru. I hope you get everything you ask for. And by the way, my name is Kojiro.”

Kaoru stumbles away in the most dignified way possible, convinced that Joe – Kojiro – really has some of Santa’s magic in him, because Kaoru never told him his name, until he happens to glance down and see his name tag. For some inane reason, this is disappointing. He pats his pockets for his phone and takes it out. The only new message is from Carla – well, not Carla exactly, Carla’s mobile app – informing him that he now has a 51% chance of seduction before the week is out.

Kaoru shoves his phone back in his pocket.

***

The next day, Kaoru forgoes his morning coffee and arrives at the mall early. Earlier than usual. It’s to avoid seeing Santa and his entourage, in theory. In reality, Kaoru stops for a caramel macchiato, and when he turns around with his drink, he bumps into Santa. Joe. Kojiro. Whatever the fuck his name is, he’s now covered in Kaoru’s caramel macchiato, and Kaoru says, “Fuck.”

“Good morning to you too,” Kojiro says. He glances down at his ruined shirt. “Glad I’m not in costume yet.”

Kaoru makes a noise that’s something like a growl.

“Let me buy you a new one?” Kojiro asks, effortlessly good-natured despite Kaoru’s attempt at dissuading him.

“Fine,” Kaoru says. “But I want an extra shot of espresso. Caramel syrup.” Kojiro nods and steps up to the register. Ludicrous, Kaoru thinks. Who offers to buy coffee for the person who ran into them?

When the coffee is ready, they have to walk together, because they’re going the same way. “You know, that’s not really a macchiato.”

Kaoru slurps his drink in a very undignified way. It tastes fine. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, macchiatos are an Italian specialty, and the real thing would never have caramel syrup.”

“What, are you some sort of Italian expert?”

“Actually, yeah. I lived in Italy for several years.”

“Why did you come back? Not enough Santa gigs over there?”

Kojiro laughs, and it sounds the way a pine candle smells. Earthy and warm. “I missed my home.”

“Oh.” It’s not what Kaoru expected. He doesn’t know this man, but he wouldn’t have thought of him as the sort of person who feels a tug back to the place they call home. He looks like someone who’d travel the world, leaving smitten women – and men? – in his wake. But of course, everyone has to settle down eventually. Kaoru already has. Well, he’s settled. It’s not exactly the same thing. He’s taken what he could get and stops himself from wondering if there’s more to life. “So, you have family here?”

They’ve reached the tree, and Kojiro takes a long sip of his coffee as he leans against the garland-wrapped gate. “Some siblings. Cousins. Nieces and nephews.”

“Hmm, so there’s no Mrs. Claus?”

Again, Kojiro laughs. Lifting one hand, he wiggles his fingers at Kaoru. “I’m not wearing a ring, am I?”

Kaoru folds his own hands behind his back. “I suppose not. I should get to work. Send me the bill for your dry cleaning.” He points to Kojiro’s coffee-stained shirt.

“I’m just gonna throw it in the washer with some stain remover.”

Kaoru wrinkles his nose. “Suit yourself. Thank you for the coffee…Kojiro.”

“Think of it as a Christmas gift. From Santa Claus himself.”

“I don’t believe in Santa Claus.”

“Well, that’s just a damn shame, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Is there any way I can get you to believe?”

“No,” Kaoru says. “I don’t think there is.” He turns and walks to the store, waiting to smile until he’s sure Kojiro can’t see his face.

***

Carla’s estimation increases steadily with each day that passes, and when Christmas Eve arrives, Kaoru wakes up to an alarm, three texts from his mother about Christmas dinner, and a notification from Carla that his chances of sleeping with Kojiro by the end of the day are a whopping 94%. The stubborn, mathematically inclined Kaoru thinks that still leaves a lot of room for error. The touch-starved, hopeless romantic Kaoru, who hasn’t kissed anyone in five years, likes those odds. He wishes he didn’t. But as he gets dressed and fusses with his hair longer than usual, he can’t help but picture Kojiro’s easy smile and strong hands. Pictures that smile hovering above him, morphing into a smirk as those strong hands grip his waist.

Kaoru splashes cold water on his face and blinks away the droplets. Nothing is going to happen. There’s a 6% chance that nothing will happen. Kaoru should cling to that 6%. Kaoru will cling to that 6%.

Because it’s Christmas Eve, the mall is packed with idiots who waited to do their shopping. Kaoru doesn’t have anyone to buy gifts for, so perhaps he shouldn’t judge, but it seems to him that it would be a lot less stressful for everyone if they simply bought gifts earlier.

He can’t complain too much, though, because business is booming. Bath and Body Works store #888 is so busy all day that Kaoru barely has time to think about Kojiro, let alone glance through the window at the Santa display. He knows, without looking, that the line is snaking around the mall. As if Santa could possibly fill requests at such late notice.

With a busy store comes frazzled customers, and the Christmas Eve clientele are a nightmare. Kaoru’s pleased they’re here, yes, but he wishes they would be a bit less pushy, a bit quieter, a bit more polite. As it is, they’re shoving each other to grab candles, tripping over themselves to sample perfumes and body mist, tasting soaps. Kaoru almost, almost, prefers the elves, except for one crucial detail: they didn’t spend any money, and these fools will.

The lengthy line to see Santa isn’t helping, because Kaoru’s store is the only remotely kid-friendly shop in this area. Kaoru’s used to people wandering in while they wait, but the chaotic energy of the holiday has put everyone on edge, especially the kids. They touch everything, they have meltdowns on the shop floor, they move like they don’t know where their center of balance is and nearly destroy half the merchandise. And their parents – weary from shopping and traveling and wrapping presents and cooking and everything else that parents are expected to do – they plead and yell and speak sternly, but that only accomplishes so much.

It’s a good reminder for Kaoru of why he hasn’t tried harder to start a family, to have a husband and children. It’s too much work. Too much work, not enough reward. The store may struggle sometimes, yes, but the ebb and flow are predictable. When Carla has a bug, Kaoru simply has to find it and fix it. Children? Not so simple.

Towards the end of the day, Kaoru’s head is spinning, and he doesn’t notice Reki and Langa set foot in the store until they’re up at the register. Langa sets three lip balms on the counter and thrusts a credit card at Kaoru. Reki stands behind him, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I want to buy these,” Langa says. “For Reki.”

Kaoru takes the card and reads the name. Nanjo Kojiro. He represses a smile. “Did you steal this?”

“No, sir,” Reki says. “Joe told us to buy ourselves something nice. I told Langa we could just get food, but he said—”

“Reki wants the lip balm.”

Something, maybe the Christmas spirit, comes over Kaoru, and he throws in an extra lip balm when he rings up the order. He would have given them a small, out of season candle, except that he doesn’t trust them with open flames. Besides, they both look like they could stand to learn something about moisturizing. “Merry Christmas,” he says, as he hands Langa the paper bag. Langa passes it to Reki, who stammers a thank you.

“Oh,” Langa says. “We’re supposed to tell you. Joe says to stop by when your shift is over.”

Despite himself, Kaoru smiles. “Did he say why?”

“Nope,” Reki says. “He’s pretty busy. C’mon, Langa, we gotta get back before Oka fires us.”

Langa looks like he wishes Oka would fire them. “Okay, Reki.” He follows the other boy out of the store, and Kaoru watches them go back to the tree hand in hand. He learned the other day that if he stands a little to the left, he has a clear line of sight to where Kojiro sits in his Santa costume. A tiny, wailing child sits on his lap while Reki and Langa stand on either side, waving rattles and stuffed animals, trying to make the infant shut up. Reki catches Langa’s eye, and they smile at each other.

Kaoru wishes them well, truly. Another customer enters the store, a clueless young man buying gifts for every woman in his family, and Kaoru sends him on his way with a variety of soaps, candles, lotions, sprays, and face masks. The old familiar ache of pining for his own family to buy gifts for rises in him, and he tries to push it down by reorganizing the shelves while he has a moment of calm. Every so often, he glances outside at the holiday shoppers who, for all their frenzy, look happy. Cheerful. Kaoru sighs deeply and looks away, but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing out on something vital. On an impulse, he fills a gift bag with products.

At closing time, Kaoru ignores Carla’s notification about updated odds, lowers the gate over the entrance, and walks to the tree, gift bag in hand. There are still some lingering families. A man screams at Oka while his wife holds their child over the fence and yells, “Tell Santa what you want, baby!” The child dangles, kicking their feet in the air, and babbles something utterly incomprehensible. Kojiro, decked out in full costume, tugs thoughtfully on his beard and smiles at the child. The child babbles something else, more excited, and its mother, satisfied, sets him on the ground and collects her red-faced husband.

Kaoru meets Kojiro’s eyes and gives him a tight smile. He waits to go through the gate until the other families have cleared out and only Kojiro, Oka, and the teens remain. Reki waves weakly when Kaoru approaches, and Langa steps aside, obviously expecting Kaoru to go right up to Kojiro, but he surprises everyone, even himself, by stopping directly in front of them.

“Here,” he says, holding the bag out to Langa. Langa takes the bag as if it might explode. “It has all your favorites,” Kaoru says. He steels himself for what he’s about to say. “I felt…bad…for how I treated you.”

Langa gives the bag back. “No, thank you.”

“Langa,” Reki hisses. “What are you doing?”

“He’s only doing it because he feels bad,” Langa says, as if Kaoru isn’t standing right there. “Also, he already gave us the lotion.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaoru says. “Really.”

“Take the stuff,” Oka tells Langa. “You were both complaining about how you didn’t have gifts for your moms yet.”

Langa takes the bag and mumbles a thank you.

Kaoru makes awkward eye contact with Oka. “Sorry. I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s fine,” Oka says. “I don’t know you.” And with that, he unclips his name tag, takes off his elf hat, and leaves. The teens dart away, still in full costume, which leaves Kaoru alone with—

“What, did the ghost of Christmas future visit you and show you some horrible fate if you continued on your current path?”

“Yes,” Kaoru says.

Kojiro nods gravely, like he’s taking this seriously. Kaoru rarely meets anyone who can match his wit, and that, more so than the smile or the laugh or the muscles, is very charming. “What did they show you?”

Kaoru desperately wants to ask Carla if he should say what he’s planning next, but he senses that this isn’t the time to bust out his AI assistant. He’ll have to do this on his own. “Well, it was a bit foggy. But he was very clear about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If I leave here tonight without kissing you, I’ll be in deep trouble.”

“Is that so?” Kojiro asks, feigning nonchalance. He leans closer to Kaoru. “I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble over a little thing like that.” His hand finds its way to Kaoru’s back, and Kaoru instinctively glances up, checking for mistletoe. There isn’t any, but that’s okay. Kaoru wouldn’t want to be a cliché.

Kojiro dips his head towards Kaoru and his breath ghosts on Kaoru’s lips when he says, “I’ll do you a favor and save you from your fate.” Kaoru doesn’t have time to reply before Kojiro’s mouth finds his. Kaoru loses his balance for a moment, and Kojiro has to steady him by dropping his hand lower and pressing his fingers into the small of Kaoru’s back.

It isn’t the most romantic kiss Kaoru’s ever had. How could it be, when they’re standing in their workplace, and Kojiro’s still dressed as Santa, and Kaoru smells like a thousand different body mists? It’s not the most romantic kiss, but it’s one of the better ones. Kojiro knows what he’s doing. His mouth is warm and his cheek is soft under the hand Kaoru raises to graze it, and he slips his tongue into Kaoru’s mouth for a brief second before pulling away.

“That should keep you safe, don’t you think?”

“For now,” Kaoru manages. He’s lightheaded, the way he often is after a long day spent in the store, breathing in too many scents. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he says suddenly.

“It sure is. What, did you forget a date?”

“No. I just…” Kaoru trails off because what he was about to say is very embarrassing, indeed. But then he looks at Kojiro and thinks oh, fuck it. “I suppose you won’t be here after today.”

Kojiro rolls his shoulders and Kaoru tries not to fixate on the movement. “It wouldn’t be a very good look if Santa was just hanging out on Christmas Day, now would it?”

“Isn’t Christmas Eve when he’s supposed to deliver the presents?”

“That’s why we close at 5.”

“And what about after that? After the holidays?” Kaoru’s treading into dangerous territory here, he knows he is, but he can’t help it. He likes to have all the facts.

“Guess I’ll have to go back to doing stand up comedy on the streets.” Kaoru recoils, and Kojiro laughs. “I’m joking. I’ve got a real job. This is just for fun.”

“You take off a whole month to do this?”

“Yep.”

“Why? Just to make some kids and their parents happy?”

“You got it.”

“We’re nothing alike.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

Before Kaoru can answer, a janitor’s cart rumbles by. “We should go.”

“We should,” Kojiro says, tracing a finger along Kaoru’s jaw, “but we don’t have to.”

Kaoru swallows. “What do you mean?”

“I happen to know the person who closes Macy’s, and she owes me a favor. If we go now, we could get in before they shut the whole place down.

“What on earth would we do in a Macy’s?” Kaoru asks, although he has a perfectly good idea.

“I think you know,” Kojiro replies.

“I have a house,” Kaoru tells him.

“So do I. But this would be more fun.”

Kaoru can’t argue with that. “I’d prefer Nordstrom, if we must.”

“I don’t know anyone who works at Nordstrom.”

“Fine,” Kaoru says. “Let’s go.”

So they do. They walk through the deserted mall, not holding hands or anything silly like that, because this isn’t a made-for-TV romantic comedy, and when they arrive at Macy’s, Kojiro’s friend is just about to close the gate. He speaks to her in a hushed voice, and she rolls her eyes but lets them slip inside. It’s dark and only the emergency lights are on, but Kojiro weaves through the departments like he’s done this before. They climb the frozen escalator to the third floor, the home goods section, and piece by piece, Kojiro’s Santa costume drops to the floor. Jacket, hat, belt, pants. Kaoru’s linen pants and cashmere sweater follow suit, and together they tumble onto one of the display mattresses. Tomorrow, the mattress will be put on clearance, but right now, Kaoru doesn’t know that. All he knows is Kojiro’s mouth on his neck, Kojiro’s hands on his hips, Kojiro’s thighs pressed to his. Kaoru’s fingers are tangled in Kojiro’s hair and he’s not thinking about Bath and Body Works store #888, or the returns he’ll have to process two days from now, or the products he technically stole for Reki and Langa. He’s not thinking about anything at all.

From somewhere on the floor, Kaoru’s phone chimes with a notification from Carla. Kaoru doesn’t need to see it to know what it says.

After all, Carla is never wrong.

Notes:

thanks for reading! merry christmas to all, and to all a good night

 

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