“I’m never kissing you again if you don’t come out here and catch snowflakes on your tongue with me,” you threaten. Before he can react you throw your head back, opening your mouth, waiting for the snowflakes to drift calmly in.

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here,” Akutagawa warns, but he doesn’t seem too concerned. Steely eyes fix on you, squinting. He just wants you back in bed, probably.

“Akutagawaaaaaaaa,” you whine, pouting. “Don’t be a grump on Christmas Eve.”

“It’s not Christmas Eve if it’s still morning,” he points out, deadpan. You reward him with a glare before trapping another flake on your tongue.

Akutagawa heaves a sigh. Pulling his scarf tighter around his nose, he plunges off the front step. Snow crunches beneath his feet; he shuffles reluctantly.

“Accident,” he ‘apologizes’ seconds before kicking a load of snow at your knees. You roll your eyes.

“Happy now?” he grumbles when he finally reaches you. His arms wrap around your waist. Morning tea, sandalwood, something sharp like mineral, tickles your nose.