Disclaimer: DN Angel is not mine.

Sakura-Angel: Named for a line from a song that my computer tossed up when I finished typing this. Four little pieces that stand on their own, written in two days (fastest ever ) for the Dark x Riku fic challenge. Centered around Christmas. I hope you enjoy. Happy Holidays!

Packages and Bows

1. DEVIATION

She was fourteen, and it was the absolute worst age to be. She'd know, she'd been through thirteen other of those.

It also made her dumber somehow, since she never would have listened to her sister until now.

"Hey, isn't this fun?" yelled her sister's overenthused voice, somehow making it to her through the pounding, bad remakes of Christmas carols.

"No!" she yelled back. She refused to have a good time at this dance. She refused to even try. She would be unhappy and simmer in it until they left. She might even lash out immaturely, vindictively, a few more times before the night was over. Yes, that sounded nice.

"Excuse me."

She whirled around to lash out at the no doubt hot-shot pervert who had just spoken to her. "What."

And then she saw him.

Riku was not shallow. But in that moment, her heart gave a nervous jump and her jaw nearly dropped.

"Would you like to dance?" An extended hand. Purple hair. A modest grin. Admittedly gorgeous eyes.

The music changed right on cue. It was slow. It was schmaltzy. It was heartwarming.

He looked up at the ceiling as if it was responsible for the song change. He shrugged helplessly, slyly, at her. His hand was still waiting.

She took that look as a challenge. She loved challenges. "Sure."

And he led her to the dancefloor.

2. BLIND

"Oh Daisuke! It's adorable!" She smiles at him and sends a lance through his chest.

"I thought you'd like it," he says, and shuffles his feet bashfully. He's too awkward and goodhearted to resent.

"You're so sweet," she coos, and pulls on his collar, drawing his forehead towards her own. He clenches his jaw in anguish.

Their puffs of hot breath mix in the cold and make him close his eyes.

He has to turn his back.

3. THEORY

Christmas shopping was the worst. Or as his Aunt Helena would say, the vorst.

Seriously speaking though, it was. Freaks all strung out on concentrated doses of coffee jumped about, nattering about deals here and deals there, and pounced, actually pounced, on the worst gift a person could possibly give someone. A pictureframe, for one. A furry pictureframe, for two.

Really. When you looked at it, Christmas was chaos. It wasn't about giving or receiving, or meeting up with relatives or eating obscenely large turkeys. It was about pouncing on crappy deals that you could justify were for someone else with Christmas shopping when it was secretly for yourself (and injure people in the process. This was Dark's least favourite part). Christmas was horrible.

Dark wasn't like that. He had a grand total of three people to shop for (Daisuke, Emiko, Satoshi) because truth be told, he didn't like people too much. They sort of sucked. Yeah, people were horrible too.

So, Christmas sucked and people sucked. He got on an escalator going up.

What else sucked? The smell of popcorn. Oh, gross. Now he was thinking about it. What else? Cane toads sucked. They were all wrinkly and nasty an--

Oh.

A girl was passing him on the down escalator. She was... she was fiesty and passionate, he could tell. She caught his eye once, twice. Her eyes were caramel at first glance, coffee with two creams at second. He was pretty sure they were the coffee. She smiled slightly, shyly blushing. He looked longer than he should have.

He was so distracted in fact, that he forgot to notice the frantic shoppers pushing without heed for other peoples' safety. Two squeezed past him in succession, tipping him backward. He tumbled down the moving stairs and fell unforgivingly on his back.

Ughhh. The floor was hard. Mild concussion? Yeah, a mild concussion. This only confirmed his people sucking theory. The Christmas one too, actually.

"Oh, my God! Are you okay?"

He smelt pear. He didn't realize his eyes were closed. He opened them. Oh, coffee and cream. Wow.

"Uhh."

"Are you alright? You don't look alright! I'm sorry!" She wrapped an arm around him and helped him sit up.

He could only rub his head in mild pain. And maybe a little confusion. "Why are you sorry?" he sounded groggy.

She fidgeted and looked at the floor, cheeks pink. "Because! If I... hadn't... distracted you, you..."

Mirth flitted over his features. "No sweat," he said, cutting her off kindly. He cracked a grin. "I'm... fine." He looked her in the eyes again, and she was genuinely relieved at his reply. Her cheeks heated up a little more.

Maybe people weren't so bad after all.

Christmas too.

4. CATCHING SNOWFLAKES

"So," he half smirks and bumps her hip in mid-stride. "Tell me something about you."

She smiles up at him, her very best friend. She bumps him back. "Does it have to be embarassing like yours?"

His gloved hands are in the pockets of his double breasted coat, which is a flawless, masculine black. His hair is soft purple, fluffy snowflakes scattered throughout. His jaw is strong and his neck is graceful. It occurs to her that he is incredibly handsome, but she doesn't love him for that.

"No, but it would be prefferable," he says through upturned lips, and his eyes twinkle at her.

She's learned to control her blush, so this time it barely surfaces. She breaks her gaze, turning her face to the path ahead of them. "Well..."

He turns his face skywards and starts catching snowflakes on his tongue.

She looks on, incredulous. "Do you know what's in that snow?"

"I dunk wanna hyeew ik," he replies with his tongue still melting flakes. "I wanna hyeew yo stoee."

She doesn't have a story.

"I don't have one," she answers.

"Evweebody hath a stoee." He catches three on his tongue at once. He has no idea how endearing he is to her right now.

"Well... I'm warning you, it isn't very exciting. No action or adventure at all." And she turns to look at him for his go ahead nod. It comes.

"Okay. So..." she pauses, and then decides that if she pauses she'll never be able to tell it, dorky as it is. "I was walking along, innocently minding my own business, when..." She glances at him. She refocuses.

"When... when I ran into a guy." She searches his face for any sort of shift. She doesn't detect one, and for some reason she feels a twinge in her chest. She clears her throat.

"He was great. He... made me laugh. Made me sad. Made me want to throttle him sometimes," and a small laugh escapes her throat. "He became my best friend."

He's stopped walking now. He's stopped catching flakes with his tongue too, and he's looking at her seriously.

She walks back to him.

"And is that what he is to you? A friend?" She sees a small shiver in him, he must be cold. She's close enough to touch him, and she finds that she really does want to do that. Touch him.

He beats her to it. He takes her hands in his own, and she wishes feverishly that they both weren't wearing gloves.

She bites the inside of her lip, holds his eyes with her own. "Yes."

He doesn't hide his disappointment. He shivers a little more.

"But at the same time..." She loops the scarf off her neck, reaches up (because he's laughably taller than her) and wraps it around his neck affectionately. She tugs on it, moving his head closer to her, and looks up into his eyes, which have followed all her movements. "Not at all."