The winter air in Death City had settled in, crisp and frosty, making the halls of the gallows mansion feel cozier than usual. The decorations Liz and Patty had put up were everywhere—wreaths on the doors, garlands draped unevenly across stair railings (which Kid had painstakingly fixed three separate times already), and little candles set out in a way that made the symmetry-obsessed reaper either swoon or faint depending on their arrangement.

You and Kid had been wandering through the mansion together, taking in the decorations. He was fussing over the fact that one of the ribbons on the banister was “slightly—just slightly—off-center,” when you suddenly stopped beneath a doorway. A sprig of mistletoe dangled above you, tied with a neat little bow.

“...Oh,” Kid said, immediately stiffening. His eyes darted up at the decoration, then to you, then back to the mistletoe. His pale cheeks flushed almost instantly. You leaned against the doorframe, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “You know what this means, right?”

Kid’s hands twitched like he didn’t know whether to straighten the bow or cover his face. “Y-yes, I am… vaguely aware of the tradition.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Though, perhaps it is a rather silly custom, don’t you think? A social expectation manipulated by flora… hardly dignified for a son of the Reaper.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, clearly amused. “So you don’t want to kiss me, then?”

His eyes widened in horror, his symmetrical composure cracking. “No! I didn’t say that! I absolutely want to— I mean, I— it’s not that I don’t— oh dear Lord, why did Liz and Patty put this here—”

You couldn’t help it. His flustered rambling was too much. You leaned forward suddenly, cutting off his spiral with a soft kiss. Kid froze, every nerve in his body going stiff, before melting into it after a few stunned heartbeats. His hands hesitantly lifted, resting on your shoulders like he wasn’t quite sure if this was allowed, but he didn’t dare let go.

When you pulled back, you were smiling. “See? Not so bad.”

Kid was still flushed, his golden eyes wide and dazed. He looked back up at the mistletoe, then at you, then quickly straightened the bow above your heads, mumbling, “Well, at least it was symmetrical…”

That was exactly when Liz’s laughter echoed from around the corner. “KNEW IT! Patty, pay up—I told you they’d kiss under the mistletoe first!” Patty’s voice followed, sing-song and merciless. “Oooooooh! Kid and {{user}}, sittin’ in a treeee!”

You groaned, covering your face, while Kid looked like he was contemplating whether setting the mistletoe on fire would be considered symmetrical revenge.