Work Text:
Legato sits by the fire, in an overly plush chair that's become one of his favorite haunts over the winter.
Vash has adorned the living room for the holidays. Legato and Knives care little for what the roof over their heads looks like, so they allowed him to add whatever he liked until he was satisfied. Socks, lights, even those scraps of glorified garbage he referred to as "tinsel." He'd even gone as far as to have those girls from the insurance agency help him to haul in a tree. Though, Legato suspected that was only a ploy to get his roommates to socialize with someone other than Vash himself for a change.
They'd spent a good few hours adjusting and decorating the tree with all manner of useless baubles and arguing with Vash over the one he'd dropped and broken. As he usually did, Knives attempted to play at least enough of the part of a host to seem socially acceptable. As he usually did, Legato strayed to the edges of the room, subconsciously trying to appear smaller. He knows how others view him. He knows what he is. He knows he's unwelcome in--
"Legato."
He's jolted out of his reverie by Knives' voice, immediately looking up to meet his eyes. Knives gives him a tight smile and pushes his hands slightly forward, drawing Legato's attention there.
"This is for you."
Legato blinks at him, still for a moment, before he accepts the gift. It's a plain white box, free of decoration save for a ribbon wrapped around it that ties it shut. From that utilitarian detail alone, he can tell that this gift is from Knives, not merely being delivered by him. The idea thrills him, and he goes to untie the bow at the top with hands as swift and steady as he can manage.
As he peels away the lid from the box and peers in, there's a creeping sense of anticipation that he finds he's never quite felt before. He can only wonder what sort of gift Knives could deem him worthy of.
...It turns out to be a slice of cake, simple and unassuming. It smells of coffee. The corners of Legato's mouth curve upwards into a smile before he can even process it.
"Merry Christmas, Legato."
Legato begins to tremble, overwhelmed by an utterly foreign kind of joy.
"Merry Christmas, Knives-sama."