Ah holiday spirit. Ah, holiday muses. I wanted to do a fun one, and a not-so-fun one… and I got both plus a few. Yay bombardment of fanfiction!
It was Christmas Eve and, as usual, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He was still at work, surfing the net to keep himself busy. That was really the best thing to do – just focus on something else until the days that reminded him that he lacked any blood relatives, anyone to spend Christmas with, had passed. Then it would be New Years; much easier to find something to do with friends then. But Christmas was a time for family.
A year ago, he had spent Christmas Eve with the Tachikomas, letting them ask him as many questions as they could think of, and he could answer (wrongly, he rather suspected) until his circuits whined for a break and nourishment. He supposed that they could have been a form of family, but the AI units were gone now, replaced by hulking green tanks that had no sense of curiosity… no sense of self.
He sighed and lifted the visualization helmet up, unhooking the computer from his ports and then wandering into the break room.
He was surprised to find that he was not the only one. Sitting at one of the chairs, nursing a cup of tea that was rapidly losing steam, was the major. She was clad in a clinging dress the color of summer grass, a split up the side revealing tasteful and functional black heels. Batou knew that she and Aramaki had been at a holiday party that night, an affair put on by the government. They had needed the representation. He knew it couldn't be past eleven yet, so why was she here?
"I got sick of the formalities," she said softly before he could ask, "and I figured this was the one night I could just leave."
He grunted his understanding and silently fixed himself some coffee, making the Major one as well. Sugar for him, cream for her. She accepted the offered cup with a serious nod, wrapping her hands around it as if the warmth it gave really mattered.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, sometimes sipping at their drinks but neither talking. Batou glanced at her, wondering why she had chosen to come here rather than just going home. Before he knew it, he had asked her.
She smiled slightly, eyes still trained on her drink. "I don't know. I suppose I just wanted something familiar."
Someone familiar, a voice in the back of his mind said quietly. He didn't say anything, and they settled back into silence. It had been this way between them for a long time, before the Laughing man, before Kuze. Sometimes he wondered whether the silence they often shared together meant no words needed to be said, or there was too much to say.
He always came to the conclusion that it was a mix of both.
There was a beep from the wall clock, and he realized that they had spent an hour simply sitting – it was midnight. The Major gracefully rose from her chair, leaving her cup on the counter. "I have to go and pick up the Chief," she said, "he'll be leaving soon."
He nodded, not wanting her to leave but realizing that she had to, and turned back to the window, staring out onto the streets far below. She moved, and suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking, without looking up, he covered it with his, feeling her long fingers twitch slightly into his shirt.
"Merry Christmas, Batou," she said quietly.
"Yeah," he replied, "you too."
The sound of her shoes on the hallway floors echoed, and the memory of her hand remained, like a ghost, until he finally rose and went home.