Well, I had this finished on Christmas Eve, but I never planned on publishing it. I wrote it in a couple hours, never edited it (still haven't), and frankly, I don't really like it. The only reason this is getting published is because I wrote it for Azii (she's amazing, and it should be worth mentioning that this fic takes place in the legal!au featured in her story Aloft, so you miiiight want to read that first), and she demanded that I publish it. In fact, dear readers, she coerced me into publishing it by dangling a companion piece she wrote in response in front of my face and saying she would only publish hers if I published mine. So keep in mind that I'm doing this for you so that you can see her beautiful work. It's all for you. I'm going to go back to pretending this piece doesn't exist anymore, but enjoy it if you want! No flames or hate mail, please and thank you, but reviews are always nice.

This is the worst idea that Gareki has ever had. Well, second worst only to the idea that put him in this position. He fiddles with the mouth of his beer bottle and stares at the floor through a curtain of onyx bangs. His watch reads nine o' seven p.m. Must be a long day at the office, he thinks. Casting a guilty glance at the spare key on the table, he throws back the contents of his bottle. He needs another drink.

Before he has the chance to slink away to the kitchen, though, the sound of a key fires through the silence like a gun. Halfway standing, Gareki flinches and turns to the door. It opens slowly to a certain golden-rod haired assistant, but Yogi hasn't looked up yet. He is too busy putting away his keys. There are dark circles under his eyes; it looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. When he finally looks up, Gareki has not moved, and the door has shut. They are alone.

"Gareki…?" The blonde frowns. "Get out. I don't want to see you. I've had a long day at the office. Things are hell without Mr. Akari, and I don't have any patience for your bullshit tonight."

Gareki smirks without thinking. "You sound like him, all stuffy and formal. You've got his brief case shoved so far up your—!" Shit. Now he sounds like Hirato. Yogi's shoulders are thrust back, his fingers clenched in fists. His jaw is set firmly, eyes hard as the precious stones they resembled, but Gareki can see the slightest tremble in his ex lover's lips. "…I…didn't come here to fight, Yogi," he says.

"Then you can leave." There is venom in his tone. "I don't see what else you could be here for."

"It's Christmas Eve, Yogi. You wanted to spend it together."

"Yeah. Before I found out you were using me. And, by the way, thanks for bringing that back up," he snaps, throwing his suitcase and stomping his feet. Bringing his hand to his face, he shakes his head and jabs his finger at the door. "Go away, Gareki…I told you, I don't need this."

"Yes, you do." It is infinitely easier to close the distance between them than Gareki thought. All it takes is a few steps, a stretch of the arm, and he's pulled the young blond into his chest. He'd forgotten how good it felt to be this close to him. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "For everything. I'm not the idiot asshole my brother is, and I never want to be. I don't want to lose the thing that means the most to me."

"I…" Yogi stammers and shuts his eyes. "I don't w-want to be just another notch in your bedpost, Gareki. Pl-please just…go…"

"Not until you look at me."

"I-I'll sue you for breaking and entering," squeaks the blond in protest.

"And after all the work I went through to decorate? Wouldn't that be a shame. C'mon, Yogi. One look. …Please," Gareki says.

"Decorate…?"

Yogi blinks. For the first time, he looks past the raven-haired young man holding his wrist, past the intensity in his gaze. Crude, hand-cut paper snowflakes dangle in uneven lengths from paperclip chains taped to the ceiling. Christmas lights droop from the backs of the furniture and hang tangled in the blinds. There is a box of extra strings half shoved behind the couch and draped with a dust-covered doily. Red and green flash in his periphery; he spares it a glance and finds mistletoe dangling over his head.

Gareki says, "Sue me for breaking your heart if you want, but any entering I'm doing is your choice, too, and I don't regret a single moment of it."

"Is that supposed to make me want you back?" Yogi asks, sniffing back a laugh.

"Is it working?"

"You tell me."

He's missed how they used to kiss.