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do-u-ever-just · 6 years

Text

All I Want For Christmas

Rated G. 2.6k words. Sheith. Mentioned Allurance.

Read on AO3

It had been a joke. A funny, ironic, painfully cheesy joke. That’s all. So, how did it turn out this way?

Shiro had seen it at the mall. It was just one of those things he had spotted and had immediately done a double take because, seriously, could such a thing even exist? Which, to someone who had battled in an intergalactic war and seen much, was really saying something.

The colour, for one thing (mustard yellow and bright green? Really?) was bad enough but the design was a whole different story. The white stitching around the collar? The disgusting little balls of fluff sewn in a string around the sleeves? Was that really necessary, Shiro had to wonder. The deformed sheep (not reindeer, sheep) dancing across the slogan wearing, what he had to assume, were Santa hats, but only looked more like odd horns coming off their heads. Then there was the slogan, scrawled in cursive, stitched in hazardously (a design choice or the tailor was just uncoordinated, he’ll never know), reading across the chest at a most awkward angle.

“Fleece Navidad,” Shiro reads, holding the sleeve of the sweater between a thumb and forefinger, as if the sweater so ugly it might burst into flames any second, hoping to burn itself out of existence.

Shiro wouldn’t blame it.

“Wow. That’s…bad,” Lance mutters, also staring at the sweater in wonderment, but not the usual kind of wonderment found on people’s faces this time of year. This was stale wonderment. A look of horror and unguided disgust. “Coming from someone who lives for bad jokes and puns this is…this is the work of Krampus.”

Shiro laughs.

“You laugh, but it’s true!” Lance continues, now also holding the opposing sleeve of the offending sweater. “This was obviously knit from the fur on Krampus’ back! That’s the only explanation as to how this hellish object of the holiday exists!”

Shiro continues to laugh.

“Hang on, I gotta show this to Allura!” Lance whips out his smart phone, snapping a few photos from different angles, sending it off to his fiancé.

Shiro adjusts the shopping bags in his hands while they wait on Allura’s response, trying to find a way to carry all of Lance’s bags, as well as the few of his own, in a way so they wouldn’t be hitting him in the calves with every step. He couldn’t find one, so opted for just suffering in silence instead.

Lance’s phone chimes, and he laughs at the message on screen, turning it around to show Shiro the animated vomiting cat sticker Allura had sent. An appropriate choice.

“Haha, okay, okay,” Shiro starts to turn, rolling his shoulders. They had been back on Earth for a few years now, yet he still found Christmas shopping to be far more strenuous than any of the training exercises Allura had put them through in the Castle of Lions. “Are we ready to head home?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just one more stop!” Lance snaps out of his temporary state of rest, as he usually does, suddenly remembering their original task and speed-walks into the neighbouring jewellery store. “I have a few necklaces on hold I gotta check out!”

“Are these for your sisters?”

“No, they have the cinema gift vouchers! These are for Allura!”

“Didn’t you already buy her the couch cushions? And the crystal vase? And I saw you sneaking out of a pet store before.”

Lance doesn’t hear him, however, already at the counter. Shiro rolls his eyes, though smiles fondly as his friend looks over his options. He can’t really blame Lance for wanting to take advantage of the festive season and shower his beloved in expensive gifts, especially when they’re so much more used to worrying about other more pressing matters than how many wrapped boxes should sit under the Christmas tree.

As Shiro waits outside, various bags at his feet, that horrible sweater manages to catch his eye again. It seems so harmless from across the walkway, but Shiro can still remember how daring it had looked up close and how Allura had reacted to the garment. So, with significant others in mind, he had to wonder, how would Keith react?

Keith was slow on social cues. That hadn’t changed in the years they had grown and developed together. He didn’t get jokes unless they were blatantly obvious, blunt and bad. He never laughed at the more, well-crafted jokes, but give him a simple one-liner and he’d be giggling about it for weeks. It was one of his more endearing qualities.

Yet, Shiro felt Keith would appreciate this little turn of phrase. He liked Christmas carols after all, so was no stranger to the lyrics of the well-known folk song. He’d hate the colours though. Keith was a man of total habit, and black and red were still the only colours he had in his wardrobe to this day (aside from the white tux that hung carefully from a hook at the end of their closet, next to Shiro’s own).

The little decorations would drive him over the edge the most, however. The fluffy cotton balls would irritate him like dust irritates a cat. The fabric would itch around his neck and he would constantly complain about the impractical fit.

In short, Keith would hate it. He’d think Shiro an idiot for gifting it to him. Still, Shiro knows Keith would laugh at the pun, poke fun at the design, torment over the contrasting colours, and do it all with a smile on his face. He’d grin and laugh and take the joke in stride.

Now Shiro can’t get the image of Keith, happy and bubbling laughter pouring from his lips, out of his head.

Lance walks out twenty minutes later with not one, not two, but three jewellery cases.

“I couldn’t decide which one she’d look more beautiful in, as she’d look beautiful in them all, so I just got all three and oh my God you didn’t…” Lance trails off in utter horror as he eyes the bag Shiro is adding to the pile. The shop’s logo plain and clean on the white paper bag. The logo belonging to that horrible Christmas sweater’s home.

“It’s a gag gift for Keith,” Shiro explains. Of all the people willing to see Keith suffer even for a moment, he figured Lance would be top of the list. Their one-sided rivalry had never really faulted, merely put on the back-burner until light and benign moments like these.

“I will pay you all the money I have if you record his face when he opens that!”

“I’m sure Allura will be so pleased with her empty bank account.”

“I mean, she might be a little disappointed at first, but she’ll understand!”

Shiro hums in mild agreement as they make their way back to the car.

---

There’s no smell of gingerbread or candy canes when Shiro walks through the door, but he can see the glow of the fire from the foyer, and hears the faint chime of the piano music Keith has playing on their record player. There’s no fairy lights strung up through the hallway, or tinsel over the banisters, but Shiro gives their small and modest Christmas tree a fond look as he makes his way into the living room.

Keith is lounging on the couch, tapping his foot to the music, a glass of red in one hand and a book in the other. He looks so at peace, the fire light making his skin glow, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he blinks tiredly. His hair braided down his scalp and ending in a little tuft at the back of his neck. He’s beautiful, and Shiro wants to kiss him.

So, he does.

“Back already?” Keith asks when their lips part, though leans in for another before Shiro can reply. Shiro smiles against his husband’s lips.

“Lance is an exhausting person to shop with,” Shiro says, straightening up and dumping his few bags on the adjacent arm chair, though makes sure to take a certain one with him to the couch. “How do I forget that every year?”

“I have a feeling it’s something to do with his constant whining that he doesn’t know what to get Allura when, in fact, he does know. He just can’t decide-“

“-and then ends up buying everything he picked for her anyway,” Shiro finishes.

Keith smiles, marking his place in his book and gently placing it on the floor, his nearly empty glass with it. “Was your own shopping trip successful?”

“I got presents for Hunk, picked up our cake for dinner with the Holts. I managed to sneak away and get that new video game while Lance wasn’t looking. Allura’s shoes are being back ordered but they should be here by Christmas.”

Keith nods at all this, a pinch forming between his brows.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you,” he begins.

Shiro hushes him with another peck to the lips before Keith can bury himself too deep under his own self-doubt.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter! I know you don’t like crowds,” Shiro takes hold of Keith’s hands, silently marvelling at how small they are in comparison to his own. “You do more than your fair share of Christmas preparation. Shopping in a mall is a very small part of the holiday season.”

“But to leave you alone with Lance of all people?” Keith cocks his head, worry still imminent in his features, though an amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Shiro smiles back.

“I’ll admit, it’s hard. I fought valiantly. Blood was shed. Old wounds, re-opened. I thought I might never see you again!”

Keith laughs as Shiro places a hand over his heart, faking deep battle wounds. Lord knows, they’ve had enough first-hand experience.

“I’m so proud you came back to me,” Keith plays along. He leans forward to gently cup Shiro’s face in his hands. “Would my victor like his spoils now, or later?”

“How about both?” Shiro practically purrs as he leans in close.

Their lips meet, and its sweet and soft and deep. They’re both smiling wildly, their teeth clacking at awkward intervals, but as Shiro places his hands lightly on Keith’s waist and shuffles closer, he finds he doesn’t mind when Keith giggles against him and clutches his face even tighter.

When they’re done making out on the couch like teenagers, when Shiro has poured his own glass of red and settled back next to his partner, arm around Keith’s shoulders and the fire warming his socked toes, Keith takes notice of the bag sitting beside them so inconspicuously.

“What’s that?” he asks, sliding ever close to Shiro, despite being so close to him already. Keith does that. Again, creature of habit.

“Oh, right! I got you something!”

Keith only looks confused as Shiro offers the bag over. Keith is not familiar with apparel stores and what they might hold, beyond knowing the common department stores like Target or Walmart, so the logo is no giveaway to him as to what it could be.

“Do I open it now?” Keith takes the bag anyway.

Shiro had considered leaving it until Christmas day and placing the sweater under the tree alongside the rest of their gifts for each other, but figured this was too good of an opportunity to pass.

“Yeah! It’s just something small I thought you’d like. It made me think of you, so figured, why not?” Shiro doesn’t miss the way Keith’s fingers inexplicably tighten around the paper, crumpling it in his hold.

Keith is careful as he pulls apart the tissue paper, reaching in and pulling out the sweater. He places the bag on the ground, and unravels the travesty of clothing slowly, holding it up so he can look at the full thing in all of its horribly-designed glory. Shiro waits with bated breath as Keith looks over the sweater, reads the writing on the front, notices everything from the scratchy wool it’s knitted out of to the fluff surrounding the sleeves and the bottom. It feels like he could hear a pin drop in the room, even over the record still playing its soft tune in the background and the fire crackling in front of them.

Finally, Keith looks to Shiro, and grants him the largest grin ever seen.

“I love it! Thank you!”

A record scratch echoes in Shiro’s ears, like something out of a cartoon.

“Shit, hang on,” Keith takes the sweater with him, carefully folded over his arm, as he walks over to the record player and flips the vinyl. He takes his time placing the needle back at the beginning, so the music can continue to play.

Keith returns hurriedly, sitting so close to Shiro he may as well have crawled into his lap.

“Shiro, you really didn’t have to!” Keith gushes again, still clutching the sweater, holding it up so he can look over it again.

Shiro is dumbfounded, left speechless, unsure of how to handle this turn of events.

“You don’t have to lie for my sake, Keith,” Shiro tries, nervously looking over Keith’s expression as his husband continues to study the absurd piece of clothing.

Keith turns to Shiro so their eyes lock.

“I’m not lying! Why would I lie to you? I love it, Takashi! You said you thought of me when you saw this, that you’d think I’d like it, then went out of your way to get it for me. How could I hate something like that?”

And Shiro can see that Keith is genuine. It’s in the call of ‘Takashi’ that left his lips, in the light in his eyes that has nothing to do with the roaring fire. It’s in the quirk of his smile and the hold of his shoulders. Shiro is beginning to see how, to Keith, this is more than just a mere gift, and more a physical reminder that Shiro thinks of Keith when he’s not around.

Shiro thought he had all of Keith’s habits pinned down to the letter. From his preferred sleeping position (spooning, Shiro the little spoon, pressed tightly against Keith’s chest all night long) to how he takes his tea (white, no sugar). From how Keith dances when he’s sure no one is looking, to how he keeps his books, clothes and knives organised.

Then something like this will happen, and Shiro has to relearn his husband all over again.

It’s never a bad thing, just another reminder that no matter how complacent Shiro is, Keith will continue to surprise him in the best of ways. Even after the war has ended and peace has reined throughout the universe, even after years of therapy and finally allowing himself to settle down with the love of his life, Keith serves as a constant reminder that his life will never be boring.

“Really? You love the sweater?” Shiro has to be sure. Has to be certain this is not Keith playing his own prank.

“Yes!” Keith nods almost violently, his bangs bobbing and probably hitting him in the eyes as he does, but he remains steadfast in his decision of how amazing this sweater apparently is.

“Well, I’m glad.”

Because what else is he supposed to say? ‘Haha you genuinely love a gift I was giving to you as a joke’? He could never torment his husband that way, and besides, why would he ever want to take away the joy Keith has found in a gift Shiro gave, even if his intentions weren’t exactly pure?

Keith is standing now, pulling on the sweater over his shirt, despite it already being warm in the house. He stands proudly there for Shiro when he’s done and has it settled over his collar, predictably already scratching at his neck. Shiro grins, pulls Keith down next to him again, and slides their lips together again. Keith kisses him warmly, sweetly, and when he reaches up to stroke Shiro’s jaw, the balls of fluff tickle and the wool irritates his skin, but Keith is happy, and that’s all Shiro could ever want for Christmas.

#sheith #voltron #tay writes #takashi shirogane #keith

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