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The sound of fire softly crackling in the hearth filled your private quarters as the harsh winds of DisCity howled against the reinforced glass.
It's that time of the year again. The time of the year that everyone has been patiently waiting for; winter—where everyone in the MBCC would finally get some day off and be able to freely go wherever they want, be it with their families, friends, or by themselves.
Of course, no one was more excited for Christmas and New year to come more than you—with your three years of reign as the MBCC chief, you've come to realize that it was honestly the only time in the year where you could actually lay back, relax, and not worry about getting kidnapped, teleported against your will, or worse of all; getting handed a gazillion stack of papers that needs your signature. Thank God, that Langley was nice enough this year and only handed you a few papers with one of them being a letter from her greeting you a happy Christmas and advance New year.
With a soft sigh escaping your lips, you've finally changed into your pyjamas. A plain pair of navy blue shirt and pants accompanied by a red Santa hat.
"Oh, wait—I gotta send these to Hecate and Hella.." you murmured to yourself as you remembered that this pj's was, well, gifted to you by the duo. Accompanied with a small smile on your face, you fetch your phone from the table and open the camera and took a picture of yourself wearing their gift.
"Well, this should be enough." You murmur as you sent the image to the group chat.
With that, you happily make your way to the kitchen where a mug of cocoa drink waited for you on the kitchen counter.
You were about to happily bask away in the warmth of your drink when suddenly, you remembered another.. thing.
Hilda.
She doesn't have anyone to celebrate her first year of Christmas with after her decades long cyrosleep...
"Fuck, I almost forgot." You curse yourself as you down your drink in one go, put your slippers on and dash toward the door.
'I hope she isn't asleep yet.'
.
..
...
..
.
The halls of MBCC, once filled with noises and the chatter of sinners and staff alike, was now filled with quiet howls of wind, distant noise of some sinners that stayed behind the MBCC, and the quick plat–plit–plattering sound of your slippers making contact with the floor as you walk–run throughout the maze like corridors of the building.
You skidded to a half in front of her cell, your chest heaving slightly from the slight sprint across the MBCC. You raised your hand, fingers curled into a fist, ready to give a firm but welcoming knock as you rehearsed the line in your head once agai—"Hey, Hilda, I realized that it's your first Christmas back, and.."
But before your knuckles could even graze the metal, the door hissed open.
The sudden noise and movement caught you off guard.
You froze.
Standing in front of you was Hilda, already dressed for the night. She was wearing the crisp, white pajamas that Wynn had gifted to her earlier this morning—the fabric looked soft against her skin.
She looked... Radiant, almost ethereal, until she looked down and saw your navy blue Pj's and slightly lopsided Santa hat.
"Chief..?" She called out.
"I was just about to.." Hilda trailed off, her gaze travelling from your face down to your mismatched slippers, then up to the festive hat. A small, amused smile began tugging at the corners of her lips upon realizing that you wore a mismatched pair of slippers.
"Uh, glad to know that... you're still awake, I mean," you finally utter making her raise a brow. Ignoring the meaning behind your words, she opens her mouth to speak; "I was actually coming to find you. I didn't think anyone would still be up."
Silence settles between the two of you for a moment before you decide to speak up again.
"Well, I realized that I hadn't checked on you yet. It's your first Christmas back, Hilda..." You trail off, letting your words sink in first before continuing. "And.. I didn't want you spending it looking at four walls. I mean—isn't Christmas supposed to be spent with others?"
"..."
".. I, do not know, chief."
"..."
Right, you should've known that she's never been able to spend a proper Christmas with anyone, even before her cyrosleep.
Awkwardly, you force out a chuckle. "Well, there's... There's gotta be a first for everything then, no? How about this—"
"Why don't we spend Christmas together?"
Your proposal seems to have caught Hilda off guard as she opens her mouth to protest at first but before she could even utter a word, you pull out your trump card— "I have a stack of crossword puzzles in my quarters. And I also have a gift for you."
!!
"I don't see why not.." she finally replied after a few seconds, her expression becoming determined upon hearing about the stack of crossword puzzles that you have lying around your quarters.
It seems she did not register you mention your gift for her.
.
..
...
..
.
So now... You find yourself on your quarters' sofa with Hilda on the other side—tucked with your blanket covering her figure as she solves a crossword puzzle in her hand with ease.
A small imperceptible smile graces the corner of your lips as you notice her brow furrow slightly upon coming across a difficult puzzle. The tip of her pen grazes the corner of her lips—a habit that you noticed months ago whenever she would have a hard time either from deciphering a code or solving a puzzle.
You shifted your gazs back to the television above the hearth again as a classic Christmas movie that you picked out earlier played out. You immediately found yourself caught in a comfortable rhythm: eyes drifting from the screen back to Hilda, then back to the movie again. You were enjoying the quiet moment when you suddenly noticed the crossword puzzle in her lap begin to tremble a bit.
Hilda's pen had stopped moving. Her brow wasn't just furrowed in thought anymore, it was tight with a sudden sharp discomfort.
"Is everything alright, Hilda?" You inquired, voice filled with concern. She nods as a reply, settling the puzzle aside, she reached down with her hands trembling slightly as she began to massage her calves through the soft fabric of her pyjamas.
It didn't take you long to figure out what was happening.
"It's the muscle atrophy again, isn't it?"
You immediately shifted closer to her. "Are they acting up again?"
Hilda gave a small, almost sheepish, strained smile as her fingers dug into her muscle. "I suppose my legs haven't quite forgiven me for sleeping through the last three decades yet,"
Without missing a single beat, you stood up from the sofa and fetched something from your bathroom. You returned a moment later with a small bottle of massage oil. You sat back down on the edge of the sofa, flashing her a gentle yet questioning expression. I fortunately have some oil left that might help with the circulation, so, may I?"
Hilda paused for second, almost ready to deny and downplay the situation but the aching pain in her calves made her rethink. Slowly, she nodded, shifting her legs to rest them closer to you and give you a better access. "Yes, thank you... Chief."
With her words, you poured a small amount of oil into your palms, rubbing them together to warm it before carefully beginning to work the tension out of her calves. Immediately, the room fell back into a comfortable silence with Hilda going back into solving her crossword puzzles and you watching the movie while making sure to remove the tension out her muscle. A few minutes later, as your hand worked over the knotted muscles in her calves, you slowly felt the initial tension in her legs slowly give away. The movie above the hearth continue to play out but your focus was entirely on the woman beside you.
As the tension in her legs finally settles into a full, manageable one, you wiped your hands on a nearby towel and took a sip of your cocoa drink before opening your mouth to speak; "Wait here," you said, standing up with a mysterious glint in your eye. "I don't think you really registered what I said earlier but I have one more thing for you."
"What is it..?" Hilda asked but you only flashed her a smile.
"You'll see."
Hilda watched you curiously as you disappeared into the small hallway of your quarters. A moment later, you returned, but your hands weren't empty—No, you were carrying a small, ventilated wicker basket with a festive red ribbon tied to the handle, matching the red Santa hat that you were wearing earlier.
"I was supposed to give this to you earlier but I got too caught up in our quiet moment so, here we go." you chuckle a bit as you hand her the basket. "I hope you like it—actually, no. I hope you love it."
Hilda, confused yet curious, slowly reached for the lid. As she tilted it open, a pair of bright, golden eyes peeked out from a coat of fur as dark as a DisCity night.
"Oh..?"
The tiny black kitten let out a high–pitched, inquisitive mew as it leapt out the basket and landed on her lap as it immediately began to knead the fabric of her pyjamas. Hilda froze at the kitten's gesture, her hands hovering in the air as if she were afraid that this tiny, cute, ghrhhtgh creature would shatter if she touched it.
"Chief..? Why—"
"Remember the first vacation that you had after your first week of awakening? The one where an FAC staff followed you?" You trail off for a second as your hands went and scratched the kitten's ear. "Yeah, I—well, I remembered reading something along the lines of 'subject stopped by a pet shop and stared at a pair of kittens playing on a basket and a plushie of a kitten' or something and I thought that you'd like to have one to accompany you..." You trail off for a second, unsure whether you should say it or not but you swallow your pride and flash her a sheepish grin before continuing your sentence.
"—when I'm away."
"Anyway!" You immediately change the subject before she could even ask you what you meant. "Consider this little guy a partner for your crossword puzzles."
Hilda stared at the tiny creature with a look of pure bewilderment of that of a child. Her hands still hovered awkwardly in the air. For a woman who has faced the horrors of warcrimes, a five–hundred gram ball of fluff seemed to be her greatest challenge yet.
"I.. he is... Very small." She noted seriously, her eyes darting from you then back to the kitten on her lap who is rolling. With a chuckle, you encouraged her to let him settle. She eventually decided to let him stay on her lap, directly atop her crossword puzzle as she starts to awkwardly lecture it about how to solve crossword puzzles and etc etc..
"Listen closely," she whispered to it, pointing her pen at a particularly difficult clue. "This is a six–letter word for 'solace'."
Of course, the kitten, being unable to speak human language and only understanding meows and meows, responded by biting the end of her pen and batting at her fingers completely ruining the "lesson".
"..."
Hilda sighed, though the pure warmth in her eyes betrayed her. She finally gave up the academic pursuit, letting the kitten curl into a soft, purring, warm, crescent on her lap while she returned to the puzzle herself. With a warm smile on your face, you took a sip of your surprisingly still–warm cocoa, the steam rising to meet the flickering orange light of the hearth. As you resumed on the gentle massage of her calves—working through the lingering aches—the room once again settles into a deep comfortable quiet.
After a few minutes of blissful silence, Hilda paused. She didn't look back but she shifted her weight, making a small, inviting space on the sofa behind her. She gestures subtly, an unspoken request for you to move closer. Understanding the invitation, you settles behind her. Carefully, you pulled the blanket over the three of you, settling into a comfortable spooning position with Hilda tucked against your chest, the kitten snoring softy between her arms, and the fire casting long shadows against the walls.
It didn't take long for sleep to slowly start taking ahold of you. It had been a long day after all, and without any more words—you slowly start to drift...
But not enough to be unable to hear Hilda's words as she shifts to face you.
"Thank you for tonight chief... Merry Christmas."
"..."
And upon swallowing the lump on her throat, she finally utters the words that she's been dying to say for months;
"I love you, chief."