A/N: No matter which angle I look from, this doesn't live up to the standard I want it to have: I predict rewrites and rewrites till my fingers fall off. =/ In the meantime: Happy Birthday Fox, you ingenious little devil!

Ahhh, winter: his favourite season.

Those who had had the opportunity to observe Mephisto closely over time might have pointed out to him that he said every season was his favourite, but that was simply because it was true. Summer, autumn, winter, spring – each had its own particular joys and wonders, and no matter how long he had been in Assiah he never ceased to rejoice in her many different garbs. December had several most agreeable qualities, too. It was the month loved by all children (and those with the minds of children, as one particularly annoying observer liked to point out) in Christian countries, and in countries subject to the cultural invasion of the United States. It was the month most rich in food, sweets, games, and gifts; Mephisto was enjoying the first three immensely, and was anticipating the fourth bouncing with excitement.

December was also the month when the sun grew weak and weary until it didn't climb over the horizon before noon, and once done quickly sank down below it again. This, in combination with the food, sweets and games, nurtured Mephisto's habit of pulling all-nighters to a virtually lethal degree. Alas, he still managed to be at his desk on time, and his regenerative abilities kept his body functional and in one piece. A gentleman always made an impeccable impression.

The same could not be said of the exorcist that arrived in his office that afternoon to leave report.

Mephisto was good at making people do what he wanted: that was the main reason he was so incredibly annoyed that Shiro, despite years of persuasion, persisted in wearing his uniform with rolled sleeves and slovenly tie. The other reason was that Shiro would have looked really handsome if he had just put in the effort of wearing decent clothing. On second thought, Mephisto couldn't quite decide which was the main reason and which was the secondary one, or if maybe they were equal sources of frustration.

"Goodness sake, Shiro, that's disgusting." He summoned a box of paper tissue with a snap of his fingers. "If you're having a stroke I'm sending you off to the hospital before you can vomit on my carpet."

Shiro himself didn't seem to be aware that he had a steady drip of saliva from the corner of his mouth, not until he had touched it with his fingers. He pulled out a tissue with an annoyed grunt and wiped his chin. As if possessing a sixth sense, the panda trash can bounced out from underneath the headmaster's desk with an expectant squeak.

"The only reason I'd get a stroke this young is if I had to listen to your whining for more than a day. And don't look so happy you little pest. I can't eat till this shit wears off so you're not getting any food either." And with that, he stuffed the tissue ball into his coat pocket. "I've been to the dentist", he grumbled, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth in case there was any drool that he had missed. And to check that his face was still there. "I said we could do the scaling without anaesthesia but ze would have none of it. Still can't feel my lip."

Imwitt had said other things, too – about smoking and what that did to one's teeth. He still had the brochure on periodontitis in his pocket. Ze had explained that the tobacco inhibited the cells of his immune system and allowed bacterial infection to run rampant in the pockets of his gums – and, lately, in his jaw bone. That… had been an unpleasant surprise. To say the least. Imwitt had shown him his x-ray photos and explained that the inflammation had reached so deep into the gums that it had begun to dissolve the bone underneath, which was clearly visible where the contour of his jaw bone had started regressing away from the crowns. Keep smoking as much as he did now and his teeth were likely to start dropping out by the time he hit fifty, ze had said.

Goddammit.

"I think ze might have pumped in some extra just to hammer home zir point." Shiro pulled a grimace that felt as if a quarter of his face was a rubber mask. "Zethinks I should quit smoking."

Oh, gifts were coming early this December~

"Well, what's the delay? Doctor's orders, Shiro-pon~"

"Uh-huh: throwing rocks in glass houses, Sir I-should-quit-snacking-every-five-minutes?"

To Mephisto's dismay, the panda was not the only one that seemed to be gifted with a sixth sense. It couldn't be coincidence that Shiro was staring straight at the desk drawer where he kept his work day storage of gummy bears and chocolate bars. The fruit regime had been doomed to fail, and had done so after a week, when he had – to his embarrassment – sleep-walked into the kitchen and "stuffed his face", as Shiro had aptly characterised the view.

"Health care personnel take into account individual backgrounds and dispositions, Shiro", he countered with an easy smile. "Demons aren't meant to abstain from temptation; a priest, on the other hand…"

Mephisto always made sure to lower his voice and add a seductive undertone when he said the word priest. The effect on Shiro was only subtle on the outside, a suppressed cringe and a slight tug in the muscles around his lips; beneath the surface, Mephisto could sense the discomfort squirming in his heart.

Yes, gifts were coming early this December.

"Come on, we're in the same boat here – a little solidarity won't kill ya." Shiro ignored the chairs, as was his habit, and sat down on the edge of Mephisto's desk. He tried to put a cigarette between his lips, but gave up and let it wiggle impatiently between his fingers instead. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if that had been her plan when she anaesthetized him. "Dimwit's harassing both of us. If this were reality ze'd get warnings, dentists aren't allowed to act like that towards their patients, but if you or I file complaints we'd just get it thrown back in our faces with interest attached. Ze thinks she can do bloody anything just 'cause ze's our author – I mean what kind of dictatorship attitude is that?"

"Oh, you know what they say: power corrupts."

Mephisto had every right to pull a smug face given his own power and level of corruption; however, there was a certain glow in his eyes, and a certain excitement about his smile, that woke a certain feeling in Shiro that his happiness concerned something else. Actually, when he thought about it, he hadn't seen Mephisto this upbeat since he had had his teeth filled with plastic. This was far from the vengeful, paranoid demon he had coaxed out of solitary confinement in tinfoil.

Shiro shifted a little on the desk and turned to look at his friend more directly. Yes, Mephisto was in a good mood; and that… set cogs turning in Shiro's head.

"You were hell-bent on outsmarting Dimwit", he said slowly, tentatively tuning in to identify what lay in his friend's heart. "Is there actually a way for us to do that?"

"No." And yet the calculating smirk on the headmaster's face didn't match the statement of surrender. He wasn't going to reveal his game straight away, however; no, he was going to make a pause for effect and treat himself to a gummy bear to reward his brilliance first. "Ze knows everything we do and everything we plan on doing: ze meddles with our choices and the course our futures take." He twirled another gummy bear between his fingers, and through the bond they shared Shiro perceived a thrumming feeling of barely contained glee that was itching to come to the surface. "Does that remind you of someone…?"

Oh yes, it did. But that didn't make sense.

"Sure, you two are alike: ze writes you, it's not like that would be any big surprise."

"Ze writes me…?" As Mephisto's glee began to surface, the wide grin grew wider still. "Shiro, you've known me for ten years and you still underestimate me like that? I appreciate a skilled opponent, but I have no intention of losing at my own game – not even against god. Dimwit writes what I want zir to write."

"You're talking bullcrap again – how could you make zir write what you want when ze writes you in the first place?" he dismissed.

"I can't; but others can."

Mephisto took great care to appear human; most of the time. There were those times when he didn't, when the devil in him shone through the varnish of gentlemanly grace. It no longer made Shiro flinch when it happened. But those words, and that look on his face… they reminded him sharply of another day in this office, a day almost ten years ago when he had been invited to take part in this grand game and do something that Mephisto himself couldn't: the day Mephisto had decided to make him his puppet.

So who was it he had snared this time?

"The art of puppetry is all about collecting pawns and putting them to good use", he continued with smooth satisfaction lacing every word. "I put one in Dimwit's inner circle of confidants and ta-dah: a mole with the means to steer the direction of the story as well as pay Dimwit back for the misery ze inflicts upon us." He made a grandiose gesture to accentuate the pause, like a conductor indicating that the audience may now applaud the skill of him and his orchestra.

Shiro did not feel like applauding him. What he had just said was ingenious in its simplicity and malicious in every other aspect. Mephisto hated when outsiders meddled in his plans, yes. Mephisto would try to turn the tables and gain control of the ones that attempted to control him, yes. Power corrupts. It was enough for Shiro to have Mephisto inviting chaos into his life, he didn't need their author to add to that – definitely didn't need Mephisto literally moving the pencil to write the manuscript of his life.

Shiro was snapped out of his doomsday thoughts in the most awkward manner one can interrupt doomsday thoughts: by a baby blue box of paper tissues that nudged his arm repeatedly. Apparently he had been too lost in thought to notice that he had been drooling again.

"That sounds like it would actually work." He pulled himself a tissue and wiped his chin roughly, ignoring the pleading squeaks from the panda. "Theoretically." Because although it sounded logical there were things that didn't add up. He heaved himself off the desk so he could stand and face Mephisto without having to turn his body. "Your mole can't be doing a very good job with Dimwit since your plans backfire on you all the time."

"They don't backfire all the time." Mephisto immediately regretted his choice of words; Shiro could sense a backlashing feeling of displeasure. "Anyway", he continued, distracting himself with some more candy, "her primary objective is to freak Dimwit out and destabilise zir so that ze will be easier to manipulate; invading zir dreams and resetting zir alarm clock and the like. Worming into zir plot is a later objective."

Invading Dimwit's dreams? Shiro still vividly remembered the time his own dreams had been invaded, and before he knew it he was lost to a fit of raunchy sniggering. Yeah, to each what they deserved. If this infiltrator arrangement Mephisto had put in place meant that Dimwit would also get zir fair share of suffering then he could feel better about it. A little, at least.

"Did you do what I think you did? 'Cause if you sent a succubus to whisper in our dear writer's ear I just might give you chocolate on Valentine's next year."

Mephisto perked up like a dog told he was going out for a walk. Yep, it seemed like that was exactly what he had done.

"My favourite is-"

"Côte-d'Or: I know."

That made a look of mild surprise settle on his friend's features – followed by a bedroom-eyed look of silky satisfaction. He leaned forward, chin resting on folded fingers and elbows resting on his desk. No need for words there.

"Don't look at me like that, there's nothing weird about remembering what chocolate you like", Shiro huffed.

"After ten years…?"

"After ten years, yes; come on, I'm twenty-eight, I'm not senile."

"Not saying you are – only that for a romantically challenged blockhead you are surprisingly good at paying attention to little details about me and what I like." His head tilted sideways as he casually made an observation Shiro very much disliked: "Apparently Dimwit chooses to make you pay attention to that~"

"And I'm guessing your succubus mole lobbies that kind of thing for you?" he remarked dryly.

Yeah, that was another thing. Dimwit had already had a nasty habit of letting Mephisto try to get into his pants; add another pervert to push for that development and before you could say "oh fuck" he would be under Mephisto in other aspects than rank. Damn all three of them, Mephisto, mole and author – he would have to find some way to counter the mole before things could escalate to that-

"You would know; you've met her~" Mephisto revealed with a happy wink. That effectively snapped Shiro out of his thoughts.

"Who, your mole? You sent Carmilla to mess with Dimwit?"

No. Mephisto just laughed at him, laughed and shook his head.

"Know your enemy, Shiro – and choose your spies accordingly. Carmilla isn't the kind of succubus that would capture Dimwit's interest, but I think you know who is~"

Despite a persistent reputation as "demon charmer" Shiro did not know more than one succubus by name – unless one counted part-succubi – and he had only met a handful of them in his career as exorcist. He wouldn't say either of them were the type of woman Dimwit fancied. Ze liked independent women, tough women, with wicked humour and-

"You're kidding?" Not a succubus; the Succubus. "You are kidding me, right?" But Mephisto's smile only grew wider as pieces of the puzzle fell in place in Shiro's mind with the sound of tumbling rocks in a landslide. "She always teased me about being girly. She always implied that I was gay, she even fucking called Mephisto my boyfriend that sly little bitch…!"

"But very creative." Mephisto wore an exceptionally pleased grin, and Shiro suspected that he might have said those last words out loud. "And competent. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, Shiro~?"

"No, I was just… contemplating if I should cover my apartment in tinfoil." Not that that seemed to help.

It had been a couple years since Shiro had had his reality rattled and turned inside out like this. Each time he had thought he would get used to it, eventually, but he was starting to understand that no, one could never truly get used to something like that. Even when he knew that Mephisto had strings attached virtually everywhere, to think that a classmate from so many years ago...

"There's one thing I don't get, though."

During his reassessment of the world, that damned bat familiar had flown down to perch on Mephisto's shoulder, nuzzling its master's hair in an attempt to get a share of the gummy bears. Mephisto paid it no attention, only tilted his head to the side in a gesture for Shiro to elaborate.

"The only time I saw you and Fulmine talk was when she gave you a knee in the crotch."

Yes. Mephisto vividly recalled that occasion too, if the displeased shift in the atmosphere was anything to go by. The bat took advantage of this distraction to swiftly snatch the gummy bear from Mephisto's fingers. It then retreated up on the curtain pole of the high panorama windows to enjoy its snack.

"And in all these ten years you haven't once succeeded in getting me in bed: and that time you almost did-"

"We do not discuss that", he cut off sharply.

"That's my point: you've got a mole behind Dimwit's back but the story still doesn't go your way."

Rather, it seemed to go his way lately. And Mephisto's sole answer to that was silence. It didn't happen often, but the few times Shiro managed to make a bull's-eye observation he knew it instantly; when he did, the demon's heart would fill with a tight-lipped, surly feeling of undeniable setback. To Shiro, it was one of the most wonderful sensations in the world.

"Oh, I see", he grinned. Yes, he would have expected as much from Fulmine. Independent, tough, and with a wicked sense of humour; the kind of woman that would never let somebody else pull her strings. "Kinda sucks for a puppeteer to have a puppet that moves on its own, heh?"

"All puppets move partially on their own: that is a calculated risk", he returned snappily and shut the candy drawer with a bang before the still hungry bat could stick its snout in it. "In chess there will always be sacrifices, and if I have to lose a handful of smaller battles to win the one that matters then I will not hesitate to do so. Be sure that when the hourglass is empty and all the grains are weighed, the end result will be the one I want." There was a pregnant pause, one in which his hair curl vibrated angrily, before that last sentence reluctantly left his lips: "Even if both Dimwit and Fulmine are partial to you."

"Building up to a nice little three-front war, are you?" Shiro sniggered with a smug face. Let the old goat plot and plan until those puppet strings were twined tightly around his neck; that would teach him. Shiro must have been giddy in the head from the anaesthetics, but he was starting to feel optimistic about this. "I might not be lucky with women in this universe, but I'm lucky with the women that matter."

"Don't be too sure." A predator's grin stretched across Mephisto's face, all teeth and twisted entertainment. "They might partial to you more than they are to me, but more than anything they're partial to the two of us together." There was a golden stopwatch dangling in his bony hand; a stopwatch Shiro recognised and dreaded. "I took you to see ourselves in the parallel universes of Zeitdieb and wildkurofang long ago, remember~? Want to see what you and I are doing in the universe of my infiltrator~?"

"No." No, he didn't want to. No. He remembered all too clearly what kind of situations Dimwit's associates had placed them in. He remembered Fulmine's wicked grin when she had speculated what kind of "situations" he used to be in with Mephisto. He did not want to see what futures she pictured for them. "He teamed Dimwit up with that beast…?"

Forget having luck with women. The universe was run by women who were sadistic, perverted demons, and he couldn't even exorcise them. With Mephisto at least he knew how the bastard ticked and knew how to strike back. Besides, he liked Mephisto. In a weird way. It was-

"Goddammit Fulmine, tell Dimwit to stop using this situation to twist my thoughts in weird ways!"

A/N:

Sneak-peek introduction of another character Shiro will meet in the future: Fulmine a.k.a. Succubus, the fictionalized version of Fox Populi. Who has on occasion invaded my dreams in awkward ways, and who managed a startingly accurate prediction with her fic The morning after. It starts with Shiro unexpectedly sleeping in and being late for his mission briefing, and on that very same day my alarm clock had set itself wrong: I woke up with 20 minutes until my patient was due for treatment (it takes 7 minutes for me to bike to school, 7 minutes to get clean clinic clothes and get changed, and ~15 minutes to get up to the clinic wing, wipe everything with surgical alcohol, flush through the burr handles, refill the water supply, get the computers started and open up patient administration). It wasn't one of my best days, but I got the patient in without too much delay. ^_^'

The stopwatch began as an in-joke between me and Zeitdieb as a way to let "my" Mephisto and Shiro visit "her" Mephisto and Shiro in the tribute fic she wrote to me. (Suffice to say that my 18-year-old Shiro was not amused by the kind of relationship her 20-something-year-old Shiro was having with her Mephisto.) It's the same stopwatch that was used in the chapters where Rin went back in time. =)

Dear Dare-mo
Only English is fine. =) I translated the Spanish, too – and laughed. Thank you! x) (Mephisto is sending you his best Death Glare.)

Some deep demonic part of me also loves seeing Mephisto like this. x) That's the reason I wrote myself as the sadistic kind of dentist that likes to prick patients with needles. I don't do that normally, so your teeth can feel safe. ;P I couldn't help but wonder, though. Would it take more anaesthesia to analgesize (remove pain from) a demon? I think I would be a very happy dentist if I could work in a fantasy universe. My brother sculpts 3D art and made a WoW troll last week. Then he asked me where exactly those tusks would grow out from and I was like "oh I would love to find out~" *w*

Ohohoh I would very much like to try and extract a tooth on a demon: I'd like to see how fast it grows back, if it does. However, the only time one extracts teeth is for orthodontic correction (too big teeth and too small jaw: have to remove some so the others can come up in the right place), for wisdom teeth grown wrong, or when the tooth pulp necrotises. The latter is what happens if a caries lesion goes all the way into the pulp and kills the tooth – on humans, at least. While there are no cells that can regenerate lost enamel and dentine substance, the pulp is a living tissue with living cells that can repair it. So even if the bacteria reached all the way to the pulp, Mephisto's demonic regeneration would still prevent the tooth from dying. I will never get to extract teeth on him… ._. …on the other hand, he could be a very interesting case study. If the caries somehow dissolved all of his enamel and dentine but the pulp was still alive… Eww. In the end the hard tooth would be gone and there would be a pink, floppy sack of nerves and blood vessels left sticking up out of his gums. *~* Holy shit that would hurt when he eats and drinks…