#dynamos;check

The concept of mistletoe was one lost to Night Watcher. The assassin could only tilt her head as Wind Sneaker presented one to her, practically beaming.

“In some cultures, mistletoe is symbol of love and friendship, which is where the practice of “kissing under the mistletoe” came from!

“Isn’t mistletoe actually a parasite spread by bird feces…?”

“That makes it less romantic, Night Watcher!”

“U-Uhm… I find… the concept of mistletoe to be… quite romantic…? Love is… quite poisonous, much like mistletoe…”

“Night Watcher!” The assassin flinched at Wind Sneaker’s tone, her counterpart looking upset. She held Wind Sneaker’s gaze, eyes apologetic, before the fighter finally sighed. She rested the mistletoe away, her smile not quite reaching her eyes anymore. “I suppose it is rather silly, isn’t it…”

Night Watcher didn’t reply. Instead, she reached her hand out, brushing her fingers against Wind Sneaker’s cheek. They followed her jawline, grasping her chin and turning the fighter to her. Night Watcher’s smile was small – she meant no offense. Searching her eyes, Wind Sneaker’s smile slowly grew to a tiny grin. It was then Night Watcher knew she was forgiven.

“As… charming as the concept is,” Night Watcher chose her words carefully, her free hand resting on Wind Sneaker’s waist as she stepped closer to her lover, “you do not need it to practice kissing.”

With Jack Frost constantly nipping at his nose every time he went outside, Dreadlord enjoyed staying near the fireplace. He would throw classical Christmas music on to drown out the silence before stretching out on the plush carpet beside the warm fire – just like now. With a very content sigh, the lord of terror crossed his arms behind his head and finally, fully, relaxed. The warmth of the fireplace eased away the troubles of the day and soon his stiff limbs were back to a normal, unfreezing temperature.

Dreadlord would stay in that very same spot for hours, completely content with listening to Christmas music on repeat and letting his mind unwind. Only when the heat of the fireplace became unbearably hot did he ever decide to move, which wouldn’t be until some odd time later on in the night. Although Dreadlord enjoyed these relaxing moments, he wished for a different sort of warmth –

The sound of footsteps shuffling closer made Dreadlord open his eyes, glancing over to see who it was: Royal Guard. Usually the butler had his head held high, eyes holding a look of superiority, always so pressed, posh, and even snobby, but not right then. As he approached Dreadlord, his eyes were gazing off to the side, looking almost troubled.

Dreadlord knew that look anywhere, and instantly, he sat up. Royal Guard stopped just short of him, eyes unable to meet his. The lord of terror did his best to stop his grin from growing, managing a small, what he hoped was welcoming, smile, beckoning the butler closer. Royal Guard dropped to his knees beside the Dreadlord, but the lord had other plans. He pulled the butler on top of him, Royal Guard straddling his hips.

Dreadlord’s grin finally broke through and his hands rested on Royal Guard’s hips, fingers skimming under his shirt and dancing along the skin that greeted him. A shiver ran down the butler’s spine, and Dreadlord’s grin grew, his searching fingers climbing more and more, seeking the warmth only Royal Guard could provide him. The butler scowled, his hands locking around Dreadlord’s wrists and pull them away, pinning them beside the lord’s head. Still, Dreadlord’s grin was still ever so present, along with the excitement now dancing in his eyes.

“… Are you a masochist?” The butler murmured, staring down at the man with a pointed stare.

“If it means you’ll touch me, then yes?” Royal Guard’s scowl grew to a look of aggravation and he was quick to try and leave. Try, because as soon as his weight shifted away, the lord rolled over, turning the tables and pinning the butler down. “Where are you going?”

“I am not a means for you to satisfy your libido, Dreadlord,” Royal Guard growled, eyes dark with scorn. The look almost took Dreadlord by surprise, what with how fierce the hatred in the butler’s eyes burned, and he hesitated. Sighing deeply, the lord leaned down, placing gentle kisses along Royal Guard’s jaw and jawline, trailing them to the corner of his lips, his cheek, his temple, and lastly, his forehead.

“… Be a means to satisfy my craving for you, then,” the lord mumbled against his skin, leaning back to meet the butler’s eyes, “My every fiber yearns for you….”

Even the Prince of Hamel needed a break every once in awhile.

“Not so fast, Chaser!”

“Hurry, before the guards stop us!”

They spoke is harsh whispers, Iron Paladin confused as to where Deadly Chaser was taking him. Together, they snuck out of Hamel’s castle, Deadly Chaser with one hand pulling Iron Paladin along, the other better fitting the satchel against his shoulder. Once they were covered some distance between them and the castle, their placed slow, yet Deadly Chaser didn’t let Iron Paladin’s hand go. Not that the prince seemed to mind, walking a step faster to stand beside the other.

Together, they wondered the outskirts of Hamel together, though the assassin seemed to know where he was going, and soon, it was clear to Iron Paladin as well. The ground gave way to an opening, a frozen over lake at the center of the clearing.

“Uh, Chaser –“ Iron Paladin turned to the other, seeing the assassin resting near a stump. He shrugged the satchel over his shoulder, opening it to finally reveal what was inside: two pairs of ice skates. Once his were on, the assassin beckoned the prince over. Warily, Iron Paladin made his way to the stump before sitting down before the assassin. With great care, Deadly Chaser eased the prince’s first shoe off, Iron Paladin shivering at the difference in temperature.

The assassin pressed a kiss to his knee, as if apologizing, before helping the prince into the ice skates, then again with the other. Iron Paladin sighed softly, a small smile on his face as Deadly Chaser stood, reaching his hands out for him to take. Hand in hand, the two slowly made their way to the lake, and though Iron Paladin stared it with uncertainty, Deadly Chaser managed to convince him it was safe.

Mastermind had an issue with socks. They always had to match.

Psyker did not have this issue. He enjoyed walking around with mismatching socks.

To make matters worse, he did it in a way to irk Mastermind.

Often than not, Psyker would be outside with Arc, Psyche, and Time (once again dragged against his will to spend time with his “brothers”), Esper and Mastermind preferring to stay inside. Occasionally, the scientist would peer outside out of curiosity, a faint smile crossing his features. The young tracers would gang on the berserker, Time jumping on his back with Psyche and Arc on either of his arms, trying to drag him down to the ground. Eventually, Psyker would cave, falling in the snow, where the other three would bury him deep in it.

“They look happy, huh?” Esper would comment, arms crossed on the window sill, his chin resting in them as he watched the four outside. Mastermind chose not to answer, but his silence was enough of one for the dimension hopper.

Once the four outside had had enough, they would come inside, clinging to the berserker who would carry them inside with ease. The difficult part was getting the three to let go, stubbornly refusing to unhand Psyker until he promised to play with them later - Time being the exception, as he found himself too exhausted to be bothered walking on his own. Honestly, Arc and Psyche had too much energy. Speaking of which, there they go again, dragging him off to do some other activity.

“Had fun?” Esper asked the berserker, watching as he kicked off his shoes to the side and pulled the ugly Christmas sweater over his head.

“It’s a good exercise,” the berserker laughed, making his way to Mastermind. The scientist pretended not to notice, nose deep in his book. Psyker would have none of that though, making himself comfortable with his head resting on the scientist’s lap. Finally, Mastermind would spare him a glance, eyebrow raised. Still, the warm light in his eyes made the berserker grin.

Mastermind would return his smile, reaching to pet his hair, when Esper said, “Nice socks.”

Preheat the oven to 350; mix the dry and wet ingredients separately before gently whisking the liquids into the dry. Something he’s done many times already, baking cookies has become second nature to him. The butler turned one way to discard dirty dishes into the sink, looking back to see a lord of terror eyeing his cookie dough.

“I ask you to please not touch my cookie dough,” the Royal Guard sighed, trying his best to shoo the Dreadlord away.

“And if I do?” Dreadlord asked with a smirk, working his way around the butler to try once again for the cookie dough. A wooden spoon slammed down just inches before Dreadlord’s hand, the wind from the movement nipping at his fingertips and causing him to jump back. The spoon made a loud whack, the force enough to cause a crack to run up the spoon’s handle.

“I implore you, then.” Royal Guard’s smile was forced, wishing nothing more than for the lord of terror to leave. Dreadlord’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout, eyes warily on the butler. Royal Guard paid him no attention though, going back to finishing the cookies Noblesse had asked of him.

Royal Guard knew Dreadlord was staring at him, yet he chose to ignore him. All that mattered to him was doing as his master had asked –

Arms wrapped around his middle, a chin resting ever so casually on his shoulder, “Do you always have to play hard to get?” the pout was evident in his voice, so much so Royal Guard didn’t need to look to see it.

“I am not playing anything, Dreadlord.” Royal Guard’s voice was even, giving nothing away. Whether he cared or not remained unknown. Still, at least the butler didn’t push the lord away. While Dreadlord childishly (at least it was seen as childish to Royal Guard) remained attached to him, Royal Guard did his best to finish his duty, despite Dreadlord trying his best to distract him.

“I guess idiots really don’t get sick.” Esper’s small chuckle was cut short by a fit of coughing.

“Call me an idiot one more time –“ Psyker shouted from the kitchen, tossing something in the sink as a means of blowing off some steam. By some miracle, the berserker was the only one who had not caught a cold, and thus by an unanimous vote, was to see to it everyone felt better.

And by felt better, they meant to see him suffer.

Because right now, as Psyker walked into the living room with more tea for these brats he called his family, he froze.

How ironic, considering what was on the television right now.

“Okay, can I just say something crazy?”

“I love crazy.”

“… This is literally the third fucking time today you lot have watched this stupid movie.” The berserker left eye twitch, feeling his irritation growing as he nearly slammed the tray down on the coffee table.

“Aw, but Psyk,” Mastermind smirked, greatly amused by his reaction, “you know the kids love it.”

“Fucking kids indeed love it,” Psyker grumbled under his breath, turning to leave the merry band of Frozen lovers to their blasted movie.

“Now, don’t be like that, LP. Maybe you should… let it go?”

Snow could turn the ever so childish berserkers into even bigger children. As soon as the yard was thick with snow, Psyker and Psyche were urging the rest of them outside. How the two could be completely unfazed by the snow was a mystery – even Esper and Time stood closer to Arc and Mastermind, shakes and shivers consistently raking through their smaller frames. In desperate attempts to keep warm (some more than others), all six wore those ugly Christmas sweaters over their usual attire, but even that served no shelter from the weather.

“How do they do it?” Time asked almost bitterly in between his teeth chattering, glaring at Psyche and Psyker.

“Idiots don’t catch colds,” Mastermind hissed, pulling his jacket closer to his body. Arc and Esper, both who were huddled close to him on either sides, provided some source of warmth thankfully. From the corner of his eye, the scientist could see Time inching closer, hesitation obvious on his face with uncertainty clear in his eye.

Mastermind opened his mouth to coax the tracer closer, when a snowball hit him smack in his chest.

“He did it.” Mastermind glared at Psyche and Psyker as they pointed at the other, though he had a good idea who it was.

“Is that right…?” Mastermind’s smile was menacing, glaring at the older berserker who default was to blame. Arc and Esper stepped back from the silently fuming scientist, who didn’t appreciate at all the snow seeping through his clothes, much less the attack. He crouched down, packing a snowball tightly together before chucking it at the berserker. It hit him square in the face, knocking that grin of his right off. The feeling of satisfaction made itself heavily known.

With the temperature dropping well below the usual degree they were used to, they found themselves eating and drinking more hot things than usual. A variety of different warm meals were made by Psyker while Esper busied himself with the drinks. More often than not, the usual request was hot cocoa. Arc, Psyche and Time sat together, Time once again forcefully roped into doing things he didn’t want to do – like this time, playing a board game.

Despite the scowl on his face, it was clear Time was actually having some sort of fun, what with the ghost of a smile appearing whenever he gained the upper hand, or even watching Arc and Psyche bicker amongst themselves, to which he would cut in and quickly defuse the situation. Though, as Psyker and Mastermind watched the trio, they began to realize how contagious Arc and Psyche’s laughter and joy could be, because soon, Time was laughing quietly with them, a tiny hint of a smile on his face (though he was quick to turn his head away or hide it).

Psyker watched them with an almost tender smile, Mastermind noticed. A weird look between soft and care would cross his eyes before the berserker would look away, a quiet chuckle heard somewhere deep in his throat. Indeed, the happiness they felt was contagious because Mastermind would laugh with him, leaning closer to the berserker and resting his head against the man’s shoulders. Psyker would press his cheek against the top of his head, and Mastermind could practically feel the smile on his face.

Esper walked in with a tray of hot cocoa, setting it down on the coffee table before quickly joining in with the tracers. Mastermind closed his eyes, letting the warm atmosphere set in fully, smelling the sweet aroma of chocolate, hearing the laughter around him, the joy and smile on everyone’s faces.