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Goro has no idea why she’s doing this.
Of all the bad ideas she’s ever had, this has to be one of the worst—right behind becoming a teenage assassin and attempting to murder the girl of her nightmares. Many months ago she’d failed that particular mission spectacularly, an occurrence that she has since learned to be grateful for. Even if, currently, she can’t help but second guess herself on that.
“You’re so cute when you look like you want to kill me,” Akira says with that incredibly unattractive smirk of hers which inspires nothing but ire, and definitely not the desire to shove her against the wall and kiss her senseless. After all, Goro has standards.
“I do,” is all Goro says.
“If you did, you would have tried already,” Akira says as she stops in front of the door to their destination, knocking twice before looking back to Goro. “It’s not like you haven’t before.”
“Second time’s the charm,” Goro replies with an award winning smile.
“I’m sure you could charm the pants off anyone, Princess.”
“That’s not–”
But Goro never gets to finish her sentence because it’s at that moment that the door swings open, revealing none other than Takamaki with Sakamoto hovering not far behind her.
“Merry Christmas!” Takamaki greets them. Somehow she manages to make even an ugly Christmas sweater look great, and the fake antlers on her head look cute instead of as stupid as they should. Goro hates her a little, even if Ann is probably her favorite amongst the thieves.
“Ah, happy holidays,” Goro responds politely, praying that they don’t notice her discomfort and descend on it like a pack of wolves. If there’s any god up there, she pleads with them that they somehow won’t notice–
“What are you wearing?” Sakamoto asks, his sense of tact as nonexistent as ever.
Well, fuck.
Goro jumps as Akira wraps an arm around her shoulders, subsequently freezing in place as her arm burns right through her coat. “I’m Santa and she’s my favorite bunny in the North Pole.”
“I lost a bet,” Goro deadpans. “Akira chose to dress like this.”
Of course, the thieves are yet to understand the full extent of the outfit she’s referring to since Akira’s coat is covering a majority of it. All that’s visible to the naked eye is the Santa hat perched crookedly on Akira’s wild mess of hair, and the red pants tucked into her knee-high black boots topped with white fur.
“Somehow I’m not surprised,” says Ann.
“Dude,” says Sakamoto, and in response to Goro’s glare, finally stops gawking at the ears on her head. If he’s this insufferable at the sight of the stupid red rabbit ears she’s wearing, then she doesn’t even want to know what hellish future awaits her once she removes her long coat to reveal the skimpy bunny suit that should belong in a pinup magazine. The material is a stark red, ‘for the holidays’ as Akira had put it when she first presented the monstrosity, further embellished by the white fur cuffs that function more as fluffy bracelets because there aren’t any goddamn sleeves. Whoever designed the outfit should be shot, she feels like she should be going to work at a casino instead of attending a small get together with Akira and the rest of the thieves on Christmas eve.
At least Akira agreed to let her wear black leggings underneath—someone probably would have ended the evening with a knife in the throat otherwise. That, or she would have frozen to death. Funny enough, she’s not entirely sure which would be preferable.
“What if you won?” Ann asks, looking toward Akira.
“Goro wanted me to dress up as her favorite Featherm–ow,” Akira finishes with a wince as Goro digs her heel even further into the top of her foot.
“Anyway!” Goro cuts in, overzealously chipper. “Akira mentioned there’d be alcohol?”
“Oh, it’s in the kitchen,” Ann says.
“Great! I’m going to procure some for myself,” Goro replies before pushing her way through the doorway, sharply shoulder-checking Sakamoto in the process. “Good day!”
“Good day?” She hears Ann echo behind her in clear confusion as Goro heads toward the kitchen.
“...Procure?”
“Be nice, she’s acclimating,” Akira says.
“What is she, a plant?”
“You talk very loud, Sakamoto!” Goro calls back without bothering to look behind her.
One day she’s going to get Akira back for this ridiculous punishment. Winning that game of darts had been right within Goro’s grasp when disaster struck in the form of a large titted menace of a girl. If Akira would have kept her damn hands to herself instead of skimming her fingers down Goro’s arm like some kind of seductress, then maybe she wouldn’t be in this situation.
As it turns out, the alcohol selection is painfully mediocre. Maybe she should have lowered her expectations from the beginning instead of somehow thinking she’d get free cocktails out of this ordeal. Instead she’s left with her choice between vodka and soda, beer, and cheap boxed wine.
She makes her choice of vodka with a hint of soda, and she’s just taking her first sip and embracing the burn, when Akira saunters through the kitchen doorway.
“You alright there, Princess?”
When Goro glances up at her, her throat immediately goes dry.
Now that Akira has removed her coat, the full extent of her outfit is revealed, and Goro is left to suffer all over again. The Santa coat is definitely a size too small, at least when concerning Akira’s massive fucking tits that are practically bursting at the seams trying to escape the damn thing. Goro doesn’t blame them. Ripping her eyes away from the tightly fitted black belt right above Akira’s hips and an envy-inducing chest, Goro finds Akira holding out her hand as if waiting for Goro to pass over her coat as well. There’s a smirk playing on her lips, having obviously noticed Goro’s staring, so the only logical course of action is to turn away and completely ignore her.
“I’m sorry did you say something?”
“Aw don’t be like that, they were only joking. You know how they are.”
“Infuriating. Insufferable.” Downing half her cup in one go, Goro grimaces. “This is absolutely vile.”
“I’m sure it’ll be much better when socializing with our infuriating and insufferable friends,” Akira says, gently taking Goro’s coat and slipping it off her shoulders. Her fingers brush against her throat in the process and Goro sharply inhales, clutching at the cup in her hands like it’s her only lifeline. Maybe it is.
Rendered as motionless as she is speechless, Goro is still stiff as a board when Akira grabs her by the shoulders and begins ushering her towards the living room.
“Kurusu wait–” she hisses. Now that reality has struck, Goro finally tries to break free from the menace’s grasp, only for it to be a practice in futility.
“Oh, Akechi! I’m so happy you made it!” Sumire waves at her from where she’s seated in the center of the couch, and upon gaining the attention of the rest of the thieves in the room as well, Goro instantly stops squirming in an attempt to save face. Her outfit is already embarrassing enough as it is, there’s no need to add more kindling to the fire of her misfortune.
“Ah, hello everyone,” Goro greets with a small wave, her pleasant aura fading when she catches sight of Futaba snickering from her spot on the floor. “Not a word,” Goro grits out.
“I wonder how much I could get for a picture of you like this—“
“Don’t even think about it!”
Futaba laughs and Goro wants nothing more than to curl up in a ball and die.
“Ah, what an aesthetically pleasing pair the two of you make. If only I’d brought my canvas.” Yusuke says from where he’s obsessively adjusting a string of lights on the wall.
“I can take a picture so you can paint it later,” Okumura offers in that terrifyingly sweet tone that makes the hairs on the back of Goro’s neck rise up. Okumura has never been anything but civil with her, but Goro knows that she still holds resentment for her in regards to what happened to her father. Goro can’t exactly blame her for that, but sometimes she really does wish that Okumura would simply try to kill her with that axe of hers instead of utilizing these perfectly civil yet passive aggressive gestures. It’s a highly advanced tactic that always makes Goro feel like there’s a ball that hasn’t yet dropped, a true attempt at ‘killing them with kindness’. It’s almost admirable.
“What a splendid idea–” Kitagawa begins, but Goro quickly cuts in before he can dare finish that thought.
“No one is taking any pictures!”
“Your costume is um, a very lovely shade,” Nijima offers from where she’s seated on the recliner. It’s painfully apparent that she’s just trying to be nice, and Goro wonders if she accidentally stumbled into some special holiday themed pocket of hell.
“Thank you, Nijima.”
“And your outfit is very nice as well, Akira,” she adds.
“Well, you know, since Goro decided to embrace the holiday spirit, I couldn’t help but be inspired,” Akira says, ending with a wince as Goro elbows her in the spleen.
“Don’t mind Akira, she’s a compulsive liar.”
“Damn,” Sakamoto says, flopping down on the couch beside Sumire. He grins at Akira as she leaves Goro’s side to join him. “So, how do I know you’re really Akira?”
She winks, throwing her feet up on the table. “Guess you’ll never really know.”
“Akechi, come sit with us!” Sumire calls. “We’re watching The Flight Before Christmas.”
Goro hesitates, finding herself a little lost in this situation. All the seats are already taken, with Futaba and Nijima taking up a majority of the floor real estate in front of the TV. When she catches her eye, Akira pats the small amount of free space on the couch beside her, and Sumire scoots over toward Sakamoto to make more room. It’s a…surprisingly kind gesture, and no matter how long it’s been since the phantom thieves welcomed her into their circle, Goro’s never really gotten used to freely given kindness.
Once Goro settles in on the couch, her thigh comfortingly warm where it presses against Akira’s, Sumire leans in and quietly asks; “Did you need me to fill you in on the plot?”
“I’m sure I can catch up, thank you Sumire.”
Once Sumire turns back to the screen, Akira’s fingers ever so gently brush against her own, their pinkies intertwining. When Goro looks up in question, she finds Akira already watching her with an expression that’s almost soft. Fond. Goro doesn’t know what she did to deserve such a reaction from her, but it ties her stomach in knots and relaxes her all at once. A contradictory reaction that’s oddly fitting for the indescribable nature of the relationship between them.
Still, when they’re close like this, sometimes it’s a little too easy to imagine they’re something more.
***
After about five minutes it becomes abundantly apparent that the movie has a ridiculously simplistic plot, it’s corny and more akin to a romantic comedy than a Christmas film. Then again, it’s not as if Goro has a particularly large frame of reference for holiday films, since she never watched many growing up, or even in her adulthood. Christmas in general was always more so an event that happened around her rather than to her. So, it probably isn’t really a surprise that she has never been able to get into the holiday spirit the same way that the others seem to.
Still, everything’s relatively calm, a nice deviation from the norm–which obviously means it’s only a matter of time before one of the Thieves comes out with an absolutely asinine idea.
…
“We should play seven minutes in heaven!”
It’s like clockwork, really. Goro just didn’t think that it’d be Ann of all people to betray the peace. The movie's credits have only just started rolling when Ann turns the station to a music channel, crushing all Goro’s dreams of doing nothing besides watching movies for the rest of the night.
“I’ll go grab a bottle!” Sakamoto says, jumping to his feet.
“Shouldn’t we play something a little more festive?” Goro asks in quiet desperation. She's never been a fan of party games, and she’s read a little too much of Featherman Black x Red fanfic to not already know the rules of this one.
“This is festive!” Ann assures her, and then gestures to her right. “Did you even look at the closet door?”
Sure enough there’s garland, ribbon, and white lights strung across the door, almost as if entering through it will transport her to some terrifying Christmas pocket dimension.
“Silly me,” Goro says dryly. “I must not have noticed.”
It’s not long before Sakamoto comes back with an empty beer bottle, and Goro finds herself sitting around Ann’s coffee table along with the other thieves. Backing out is a non option, or at least it has been ever since Akira settled herself at the table between Ann and Niijima. Call it competitiveness, or perhaps some kind of twisted jealousy streak, but Goro will never stand to the side when Akira’s on the front lines. The fact that there’s no winner in this game bears no consequence.
Sakamoto is the first to take his turn after volunteering to do so. To Goro’s immense relief, the bottle lands on Sumire, thus saving her from a punishment worse than death. Sumire on the other hand; although she blushes spectacularly, follows Sakamoto into the closet without argument.
Without warning, a protective flare burns in Goro’s body, one she never even knew she had. Sumire is a little like an overly trusting and gullible little lamb in the midst of a world of lions. She’ll get eaten alive if she doesn’t have someone to look out for her, and Goro would wring out Sakamoto’s neck at the slightest inclination that something happened in that closet that Sumire wasn’t okay with.
Fortunately for all parties involved, seven minutes later Sumire walks out of the closet in a fit of giggles, Sakamoto following close behind.
“I guess it’s my turn,” Akira says, and Goro’s heart drops, anxious energy buzzing on her skin. She watches with bated breath as Akira puts the bottle into position, and she digs her perfectly manicured nails deep into the skin of her palms the moment Akira sends it spinning.
There’s a significant part of her that wants. It aches with the possibility of ending up pressed up close in a closet with Akira, hip to hip and breast to breast. Much like she has many times before, late at night in the darkness of her room, she imagines what kissing Kurusu Akira would feel like. Would her lips be soft or would they be the slightest bit rough, chapped from the cold winter air? Would Akira’s hands wind through her hair, or would they venture to other places? It’s a constant back and forth between fantasies of raw passion, and those of simply being loved. She’s never been naive enough to dream of both.
Goro watches the bottle spin until finally…
…
…it lands on Takamaki.
Ann laughs and clasps her hands together in joy. “Ooooh, I get to spend seven minutes with Akira!”
Suddenly feeling a little sick, Goro downs the rest of the alcohol in her cup and hopes that somehow that will magically solve the problem. The disappointment is hard enough, but Ann is perfect. How could Goro ever compete with that?
Akira slowly gets to her feet, taking a moment to stretch her limbs like a particularly lazy cat. Before she follows Ann over to the closet, she meets Goro’s eye. There’s undeniable mischief in her expression, a certain coyness in the tilt of her lips and the way she saunters over to the place where she’s been beckoned.
The door shuts behind the two of them.
“Seven minutes starting….now!” Futaba calls.
There’s a nauseating feeling deep in her gut. An affliction akin to a plague, one that she’d die before she ever put a proper name to. It’s nothing like the feeling when Sumire went into the closet with Sakamoto. There’s no protective flame but instead a raging green supernova of jealousy. Jealousy born from that one unspeakable thing.
“You doing alright there, loser?” Futaba asks with a far too amused grin, to which Goro glares.
“Shut up.”
After what might be the longest seven minutes of her life, Futaba announces their time is up and the closet door finally opens. Akira’s clothes are ruffled, and the reindeer ears on Ann’s head have gone askew.
They both of them settle back down, and distantly Goro is aware of Okumura taking her turn before heading into the closet with Niijima, but all the while she finds herself incapable of looking away from Akira. Goro’s entire body is hot, the flimsy yet tight and fitted material of the bunny outfit suddenly sweltering. Goro’s beginning to regret all the vodka she had because it’s now stirring unpleasantly in her stomach, mixing with the fluttery feeling in her gut and causing such a conflicting mix of emotions that she’s unsure what to do with herself.
There’s a part of her that wants to punch Akira, to tackle her to the ground and tear out her infuriatingly unmaintained yet perfectly attractive hair for making Goro feel the way she is. But there’s another part of her, perhaps even more prominent, that only wishes to stake her claim. As if she’s a wild animal, she wants to cover Akira’s lips with hers and lick into her mouth until all traces of Takamaki are gone. She wants Akira to touch every part of her until the thought of Ann is the very last thing on her mind.
Suddenly she finds Akira kneeling right in front of her and she jumps at the sudden proximity. She doesn’t know how she didn’t even notice.
“Your turn,” Akira says, her eyes dark with something unidentifiable as she slips the bottle into Goro’s hands. There’s a moment where her fingers linger on Goro’s skin, warm and dizzying, before she retracts her touch and once again takes her place in the spot across from her.
Swallowing thickly, Goro spins the bottle and braces herself for the worst.
It spins, and spins…and just as it finally slows:
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Akira yelps, shifting over to avoid her drink that’s now spilled all over the hardwood floor around her, courtesy of a knocked over cup with the most convenient of timing.
“It’s okay!” Ann says, jumping to her feet. “I’ll go grab some towels.”
But while everyone’s attention is on the spill, Goro hasn’t looked away from Akira for even a moment. Her heart stutters in mute disbelief as she watches Akira nudge the bottle that has since stopped on Yusuke over to Goro with a black stockinged toe.
‘Oops’ Akira mouths in Goro’s direction, but judging by the smirk on her face, she isn’t sorry at all.
“Well, it seems like it’s my lucky day,” Akira says, apropos nothing—the thieves are all too distracted to have even noticed who the bottle landed on. However, with her words their attention shifts back to the game, resulting in several barely concealed snickers and knowing looks.
Goro’s not entirely sure what to make of that.
Pushing herself to her feet, Akira extends a hand down to her. “Shall we?”
Still in a partial daze, Goro takes her hand and she allows Akira to pull her towards the closet. Her heartbeat is roaring in her ears, drowning out even the distant whistles and comments from the thieves they’re leaving behind them.
This is really happening.
Releasing her hand, Akira gently pushes her the final bit of distance into the closet. “In you go!” She says with a flourish, moments before she follows suit and slams the door shut behind them.
It’s dark, but light streaming in through the cracks in the door is just enough for Goro to make out Akira’s face, bathed in shadow. She looks ethereal, like she’s been ripped right out of one of Goro’s most secret fantasies. It’s almost unfair.
“Cozy in here, isn’t it?”
“Why did you cheat?” Goro blurts once she regains her capability of speech.
She needs to know if this is just another one of Akira’s games, or if she’s right to assume there might be a deeper meaning behind it. If it’s all just a game, then Goro will leave this closet the exact way she entered it, nothing altered, nothing changed. But if it’s not…
Goro’s gaze flicks down to her lips for a moment before she catches herself, trying her best to push down the overwhelming desire to know what it feels like to have Akira all to herself. If Goro were to have her, she would need to have all of her. No games, no hesitation. She’s never been one to share.
Akira shrugs. “I’m a prisoner to my delinquent mind and wily impulses?”
“And the real reason?”
There’s a moment where Akira hesitates, and Goro knows there’s about a fifty percent chance that she deflects again. Akira has always been akin to a cat, lazy and fond of napping under the sun; yet flighty when Goro has only ever wanted to be kept out of the dark.
Finally, Akira leans in close, and Goro’s breath catches when she whispers in her ear: “Sometimes, I like to think that you’re mine.”
“...What’s stopping you then?”
“…Pardon?”
Goro huffs, but she couldn’t possibly be annoyed while her heart is soaring in her chest. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m asking for you to claim me. Take me. Make me yours—“
Her words cut off as Akira finally covers her lips with her own.
Kissing Akira is unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. She’s all soft curves and wild hair which gets caught between her fingers when she goes to press her closer by the back of the head. Akira’s lips are slightly chapped, and her tongue is intoxicating when she licks into her mouth.
Akira’s hand goes to her ass and Goro squeaks in surprise. She feels her fiddle with the costume's white tail, before clutching at her backside, using it as leverage to pull Goro even closer, causing a quiet moan to escape her lips.
“Careful,” Akira murmurs, her breath fanning across her lips, “they might hear you.”
Goro pulls back just enough to look at Akira through her lashes, doing her best to appear irresistible and demure as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She’s always been one who craved reassurance, even if she didn’t really need it.
“I would think you’d want them to know I was yours,” Goro says. “Am I right, Akira?”
“Santa.”
“What?”
She takes Goro’s hand and places it over her right tit.
“Tonight I’m Santa, I gave you the best gift of all, didn’t I?”
“Ugh! You just had to ruin it!” Goro says, throwing the door open and storming out.
“Well, that was fast,” says Futaba.
“Wait, Goro! I meant my heart!” Akira calls as she hurries after her. “Goro, please!”
Because she just so happens to be in a good and charitable mood, Goro obliges and turns to her before entering the kitchen to gather her things. If she happens to do what she’s planning to do in front of Akira’s friends, well that’s no business of hers now, is it?
“Maybe you can make it up to me,” Goro suggests as she reaches up to straighten the fur collar on Akira’s Santa coat. As she does so, she looks up through her lashes, a devious smile she can’t quite hide playing on her lips. She watches the moment that Akira’s eyes imperceptibly widen and she knows that she understands.
“Oh no.”
Goro pats her now fixed collar before taking a step back. “I have the costume at my place.” Grabbing Akira’s hand she tugs her into the kitchen where she finally throws her coat back on over her cursed sexy bunny outfit, and watches as Akira does the same in a daze. Hell, if she’s this obedient on the way back to her apartment, Goro might just be in a good enough mood to have a little fun in their current outfits before changing.
Admittedly, when she wasn’t being gawked at by the thieves, over the course of the night Goro learned to appreciate her bunny outfit. How could she not when she was able to have Akira’s full undivided attention for the majority of the night, even when surrounded by her precious friends.
Tugging Akira back through the threshold of the kitchen, Goro pauses to wave cheerily at the thieves who are all looking towards them in various states of amusement and disbelief. Sumire gives her a thumbs up.
“Have a nice night, everyone!”
“Wait,” Akira says, “but we haven’t even–”
“Merry Christmas!” Goro interrupts, and with one last award winning smile she yanks Akira out the door.