What They Can Give
A ficlet by Mod Monstera
Cold weather whips around them, threatening to make off with any loose accessories that Lord Pwnatious was wearing. The demon waits impatiently for the return of their Omega graft, who had gone to get their vehicle while they were busy locking up the store.
It was taking him longer than they were expecting, and their patience was wearing away rather quickly in this weather. They tuck their hands under their arms in a manner akin to their usual pout as an attempt to preserve heat.
The arrival of a sleek black limo brings them relief as they rip the door open, slipping into the backseat that was already satisfactorily warm. The door is hastily slammed before cold could creep its claws inside.
"What took you so long?!" Lord Pwnatious demands, turning to Carnage, who is sitting across from them, awkwardly leaning forward to fit into the vehicle that did not accommodate his size.
"I only took a few minutes longer than usual." He responds evenly. "And besides, I was making sure something was ready."
"Making sure what was ready?"
"You'll have to wait and see."
The drive back to Lord Pwnatious' home was no more pleasant than usual, with them both suspended in a silence that allowed Carnage to sense the frigid mood that radiated off Pwnatious. It drew to a conclusion with the forward shift of gravity signaling their arrival.
Carnage moves to get out first, letting their owner out. The biograft defaults to heeling as Pwnatious gets to the front door, stepping inside the dark house. Upon hitting the light switch, they find that their house isn't precisely the way they left it; Holiday cheer infecting their home in the form of tinsel over the doorways, a wreath on the door. There were a hundred little tells that this was a planned affront on their space.
They bite back a sharp remark, ignoring the obnoxious decor and instead stepping into their living room after depositing their coat onto the hanger by the door.
In there, a small Christmas tree takes residence in the corner, no taller than their waist. Little red and green ornaments arranged in a neat manner between rows of silver tinsel. Clearly, it was in an attempt to remain inoffensive while intruding on their space.
"What. Is this." They ask flatly, gesturing more vaguely around at the decorations.
"Your family never celebrated Christmas, but I figured this year, since you've been busier than usual, it'd be nice to do something different." Carnage explains, coming in from the other room. He folds his arms conspicuously behind his back.
"What makes you think I want to celebrate some consumer holiday like a plebian?" They ask disapprovingly.
"I figured you probably wouldn't. That's why I kept it to a minimum."
"Anyways, I got you something." The biograft removes his hands from behind his back, offering them a box in pale golden paper.
"Merry Christmas, Pwnatious."
Right, it was Christmas Eve, wasn't it. They didn't pay attention to the calendar unless there was something special that they cared about, which didn't include most holidays.
"I'm not a child."
"Just take the present."
They scoff, accepting the box and finding a seat on the couch. They feel the pressure of their bodyguard's gaze on their hands as they rip through the paper. Inside the box is a small tin surrounded by red tissue paper. They lift the tin out and read the label, which reads as a special tea blend that comes from a small company based somewhere deep in the Blackrock mountains, if they recall correctly.
"I noticed you liked this blend when it came in that one gift basket you got from company dealings a few months ago." He explains.
It was stupid. If they wanted the blend, they could have just ordered it themself under normal circumstances.
However, there was an inkling of some other feeling; foreign to them and probably far too soft and disgusting and warm to ever put a name to. They quickly shove it away before anything can really sink in.
Begrudgingly, they turn it over in their hands. It did occur to them that Carnage was still keenly watching them; They didn't care to guess if it was out of expectation of something in return, or something else.
"...Thanks, Carnage." They mutter reluctantly.
"You're welcome, Pwnatious."