Prompt: FemJapan and America celebrating their first Christmas together as husband and wife.
This was a gift for a friend. They don't like Sakura as fem!Japan's human name, so I opted for Kikuko, the feminine form of Kiku.
They'd been married in the summer at the beach. In the dead of a New York winter, though, it seemed an eternity rather than a short six months. As their first Christmas as a married couple approached, Al took to singing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs, setting up inflatable snowglobes and wire reindeer in the front yard, and tacking mistletoe to the top of every doorway to sneak kisses from Kikuko. Cutting down and decorating a real pine tree was Kikuko's favorite, though she also indulged Al's pet tradition of Advent Calendar scavenger hunts.
On Christmas Eve, Kikuko dressed herself up in her best date clothes and got ready for a proper night on the town. When she got downstairs, she found Al stirring something in the kitchen, flour dusting his nose.
"Christmas cake?" Kikuko asked, but the batter looked dangerously thick for cake.
"Cookies for Santa!" Al beamed. "And a couple for us, too, of course."
Kikuko put on an apron to keep the flour off her nicest clothes and settled on a stool beside him. He tilted his head toward a rolling pin and some cookie cutters, even though the cookie dough was clearly too runny—they were meant to be drop cookies, from the look of them.
"My old man will give me an earful if I don't call him tomorrow." Al sighed. "Wish we could spend the day together. Just us two. But I guess we have New Year's for that."
Kikuko hesitated, almost opening her mouth to speak, but Al plunged ahead.
"But Christmas is for families, I guess." He nudged her should, leaving a streak of powdered sugar. "And you're all the family I need, but my old man just won't see it like that. Hah. No baby birds allowed to leave his nest."
"So we aren't going out on a date tonight?" Kikuko asked. Heat rose in her cheeks; she toyed with a cookie cutter, feeling embarrassed. In Japan, Christmas was a date night for couples; New Year's was the one reserved for serious family time.
"A date?" Al looked her up and down for the first time, noticing her new dress. He tried to brush the sugar off her shoulder and left a streak of eggy flour instead. "Aw, babe, everything's closed on Christmas." Guilt pooled in his expression for a moment before he brightened. "We could go to Denny's!"
"A night at home sounds lovely," Kikuko said quickly. Al frowned.
"If you're sure…" He glanced at the TV. "I can show you all of my favorite Christmas movies! Did you know that there's one with Arnold Schwarzenegger in it?" At Kikuko's expression, he hastened to add, "No violence! Well, just some jetpacks."
"Jetpacks?" Kikuko repeated.
"And a parade!" Al said enthusiastically. "There are a bunch of fun ones. We can eat cookies and curl up with a mug of hot chocolate. Oh, oh, and we wear our pajamas! And make a pillow fort!"
Kikuko smiled. Maybe not the Christmas she'd expected, but it didn't sound half bad.
"Let me go change," she said. As she hopped off her stool and slipped out of the room, Al caught her by the arm.
"Mistletoe!" he sang. Kikuko laughed and kissed him—he tasted like chocolate chips.
"If you don't stop eating the cookie dough, there won't be any left for Santa," Kikuko chided. She flicked his nose, and he made his sad puppy expression—the I-promise-I'll-be-good expression that lasted about as long as an unattended hamburger at a dog park. Kikuko pecked him on the cheek. "And I hope you're planning to share with me, too!"
"I'll make you your own batch!" Al said. On Halloween, he'd made her an entire plate of zombie-themed sugar cookies. "Gingerbread men and houses to match!" Al's gingerbread men would probably be missing limbs, but he was an architect for a living; the houses would surely be masterpieces.
"Sounds perfect," Kikuko said. "I'll wait patiently in the living room."
"In your pajamas?" Al asked, pulling back to let her escape.
"In my pajamas," she agreed. "With Tama and Armstrong, too." Their cats would appreciate the company, at least. "Don't keep me waiting!"
