So here's another Christmas story, this time about the Kaibas. And Tami doesn't make a single appearance! :0 Anyway, it's pretty fluffy-not much of my usual angst at all! I'd really appreciate your thoughts, since fluff and Kaibas are both still pretty much uncharted territory for me. I hope you don't find particularly Seto too OOC!

So, yeah. Read and review please!

~Pleurez

Thwack!

For what was likely the hundredth time that day, a catalogue flew into the wall, landing in a pitiful heap on the floor. Mokuba flopped back into his bed with a groan, running a hand through his wild mane of black hair. He loved Christmas—in fact, if he'd been just a little less insistent, there would be no tree, no gifts, and every last one of Kaiba Corp's employees would be expected at their desks bright and early on Christmas morning. But, it did present certain challenges.

What could a kid possibly buy his workaholic brother who could afford to go out and purchase literally anything he liked without any consideration for price?

A sports car?

Even if Seto didn't already have several, it wouldn't be worth the headache of trying to get any dealership to take him seriously.

A new and improved brief case?

Next.

For starters, Seto would have hated it. And besides, he didn't like to encourage his brother's love affair with his company. If anything, he would have liked him to work less.

Why couldn't he have had a brother with an actual hobby?

Fast cars. Duel monsters. Technology. Work.

The rather pitiful list basically encompassed everything Seto had any interest in.

Usually, something would catch his eye at some point—some silly thing that his brother would have immediately dismissed as unworthy of his time if he'd seen it, but that he'd end up really appreciating just because Mokuba had taken the time to pick it out for him.

And of course the boy knew that he could wrap just about anything in shiny paper and Seto would appreciate the sentiment, even if he'd pretty much never admit it. But he didn't want to get just anything. He wanted something good.

He stood and walked to where the catalogue had landed. With a resigned huff, he began leafing through it yet again, desperately hoping there was something he'd missed. Though, he figured it was probably too late to order from it, anyway. Christmas was in just two days.

Sure, if he made enough noise and promised enough money, he could probably get whatever he wanted delivered in time. But why go through that much trouble over something that wasn't even that great of a gift, anyway?

There was a knock on the door.

Roland offered a sympathetic smile and asked, "Still no luck, Mister Kaiba?"

Mokuba gave an exasperated shake of his head.

"Perhaps you could make him something?"

The boy grimaced a little. Not that it wasn't a good idea. It would have been obvious, if his brother was anyone else in the world. But Seto was so determined to have only the best of everything, and nothing Mokuba could ever put together would be half as good as the products of people who depended on their wares to make a living.

However, as he considered it, his eyes suddenly grew bright—the proverbial lightbulb had just gone off.

"How fast can you get me to the nearest craft store?"

Something was wrong. Seto knew it as soon as they sat down for breakfast—Mokuba had even seemed a little on edge the night before, but at the present he was practically squirming in his seat. Every once in a while, when he was sure no one was looking, he cast a strange, searching glance in his brother's direction.

Seto caught it every time.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I didn't forget, Mokuba. You read the e-mail I sent informing the staff that Kaiba Corp is closed today yourself and I'm sure you've noticed your gifts are all under the tree."

Mokuba just stared at him owlishly, trying to figure out what Seto was getting at. Very slowly, he said, "Yeah… I know that, Nii-sama."

"Then why do you keep giving me that look?"

"What look?"

"You're an awful liar."

Without explanation, Mokuba shot up out of his seat and darted over to the tree. He picked up a package in simple, gold paper with a red bow. It was small, just a little large than an index card and only an inch or so thick. Not bothering to explain, he dropped it on his brother's lap.

Seto stared at it for a moment. "Don't we usually wait until after breakfast?"

The younger Kaiba sighed heavily. As smart as he was, sometimes his brother was just so dense! "Nii-sama! Can you just open it?"

Finally, as Mokuba bit his lip and shifted from one foot to the other, Seto got the message. But it confused him. He looked almost afraid. Over a present? "Mokuba, you know I've never complained about anything you've given me."

"Nii-sama!" His voice rose to something approaching a whine.

"Alright, alright!"

Watching Seto unwrap anything was among the most painful things Mokuba had every witnessed. Despite his usual obsession with being efficient and getting things done in as timely a fashion as possible, he seemed to have some sort of vendetta against tearing wrapping paper. Mokuba rolled his eyes, huffing as he carefully peeled the tape away from the paper.

When he finally pulled away the wrapping, he stopped, eyes growing wide with shock.

A moment passed in silence before Mokuba cried, "I knew it! I knew you'd hate it!" He'd known it was a risk—it was just one of those things he and Seto never talked about. But he'd been desperate and he'd hoped that it might mean something to his brother. "I'm sor—"

"Mokuba," Seto interrupted, voice uncharacteristically soft. He held it up, looking at the small, blue picture frame that housed a crayon drawing of a Blue Eyes White Dragon. "Mokuba, come here."

With a lump in his throat and tears welling up in his eyes, Mokuba approached his brother, his head hung low with his hair obscuring his face.

He froze in shock as his brother immediately wrapped him in a hug. "I'll put it on the desk in my office as soon as soon as Kaiba Corp reopens."

"R-really? Because you never talk about Gozaburo and I didn't know if it would remind you of him, but I didn't know what else to get you and it was already two days 'til Christmas and—"

"Mokuba, stop." He pulled back from their hug and tilted his brother's chin so watery, gray eyes met is own intense, blue stare. "It's perfect."

As their eyes met, Mokuba knew that Seto wasn't just lying to make him feel better. He could barely even remember the last time Seto had looked at him like that—for a moment, the stoic, aloof CEO was replaced by the boy Mokuba had known before their step-father had dug his claws into Seto's heart.

He wrapped his arms around his brother again, murmuring, "Merry Christmas, Nii-sama."

"Merry Christmas, Mokuba."

All of a sudden, even the shiniest and most enticing of packages beneath the tree seemed terribly insignificant.