Archive of Our Own

"I think this is the most fun I've ever had in my life," said Tsukishima. He was slightly teary-eyed, but he couldn't say if it was the dry air or the joy he was feeling. It didn't matter to Kuroo, who looked at him with an expression that couldn't be described by any other word but 'blessed'.

"I didn't think I'd hear you say this while waiting in line to meet the Mall Santa," he said with a happy sigh. "This is the best idea I've ever had"

Tsukishima was ready to call him out on that lie, but Akaashi was faster. "Don't you think it's Bokuto's merit? You didn't do anything except come up with inappropriate lines about sitting on his lap."

"And yet, this is why we're here," Kuroo said smugly. Tsukishima decided to ignore him. Sure, seeing Bokuto sit on his throne with a fake beard and a pillow under his red coat, getting slobbered on by children while yelling "OHOHOHOHO!" from time to time was great, but the true reasons for Tsukishima's rapture were dancing around in pointy hats with badly painted red blotches on their cheeks.

He had had no idea that Hinata and Kageyama worked here, too.

"I've counted seven children so far who have broken down into tears because of Elfyama's face. I don't think any of you could ever make me that happy."

"Kuroo could probably make children cry," said Akaashi.

"Hey! I'm really good with children, so don't go spreading lies now!"

"He definitely looks like something that would live under somebody's bed or in a closet," said Tsukishima. "Ah - there goes number eight!"

They all looked over to where Kageyama was looming over a little boy, displaying his terrible excuse for a smile. The boy screamed as if Kageyama had just used a candy cane to rip his teeth out.

"How long do you think it'll take for a soccer mom to run up and strangle him with a scarf?" whispered Tsukishima.

"I feel kinda bad for him," said Kuroo. "He's trying his best."

"It's just that his best isn't very good," said Akaashi, watching Kageyama trying to console the boy by hastily stuffing his mouth with uncracked peanuts. "I stand corrected. His best is abysmal."

Bokuto's loud "OHOHOHO!" signaled their turn and they all left the poor boy alone, pretending not to know the creepy elf. Bokuto welcomed them with a smile so wide that the edges of his mouth peeked over the fake beard. He looked pretty ridiculous, but Bokuto-ridiculous, which meant adorable, even if Tsukishima wouldn’t admit that even under torture.

“You actually came!” he beamed. “My lap has been looking forward to your sweet bums all day long.”

“You’re going to get fired again, Bokuto,” warned Akaashi.

“Also, we’re not actually going to sit on your lap,” added Tsukishima, but then he blinked and Kuroo and Akaashi were both looking up at him from where they had squeezed themselves onto Bokuto’s thighs. He threw Akaashi a betrayed look.

“What?” Akaashi said, shrugging. “I never said I wouldn’t.”

“I obviously put too much trust in your sanity.”

“I’ve been dating this idiot for six years – do you actually think there’s any sanity left in me?” Akaashi said, and hit Kuroo’s high-five just for the hell of it.

“It will happen to you eventually, Tsukki,” said Kuroo. “Don’t fight it.”

“I will fight you!” said Tsukishima. He had been so happy to gloat because of Kageyama’s performance and now his boyfriends decided to embarrass him even more. Why was he dating them again? He wondered if he should just steal Hinata’s pointy hat and bury his head in it. If he cut two holes in it to see, he could wear it for as long as he was with them and no one would ever know.

“Why are you glaring at me?” hissed Hinata.

“I may need to borrow your hat.”

Hinata probably wasn’t sure if he was serious or making fun of him and for once Tsukishima couldn’t blame him, because he didn’t know either. Bokuto decided to take the inappropriateness of the situation to eleven by slapping both of his boyfriend’s asses and loudly demanding a kiss.

“Santa baby!” said Kuroo. “You don’t actually think that I'll come anywhere near your face before you washed it? How many children do you think have slobbered all over you while wishing for a pony?"

“Actually, the most popular demand was for an iPhone 6,” laughed Bokuto.

“Well,” said Akaashi. “That is cheaper than a pony, I think. Children these days are really humble.”

“I have a wish for Christmas,” said Tsukishima. “I want to wake up from a coma and realize that I was never actually stupid enough to fall in love with any of you.”

They all said, “We love you, too” at the same time, because this was obviously nothing else but a long, fever-induced nightmare.

~~~

An hour later found Tsukishima, Akaashi and Kuroo leaning against the shop window of a clothing label that had thought it to be a good idea to design a Christmas-themed collection. Tsukishima was pretty sure that Hinata’s and Kageyama’s elf outfits had come from here and wondered what sane person would ever casually wear a sweater with actual chain-lights and tinsel weaved into it.

“Hey!” said Kuroo, pointing at the exact sweater Tsukishima had been sniffing at. “That’s what I got Bokuto as a present!”

Tsukishima already knew why he had added the word ‘sane’ to his train of thoughts.

“You know that he'll only electrocute himself when wearing that,” said Akaashi. “You should probably exchange it for something more Bokuto-proof.”

Tsukishima really wanted to kiss him for that perfect excuse – but then he pointed to a different sweater which had a snowman doing a headstand so that his sewed-on carrot-nose stuck out from the wearer’s crotch like a woolen, bright-orange penis.

“That does seem to be more his style,” Kuroo contemplated. “Thanks Akaashi, you’re the best!” Tsukishima watched incredulously as they pecked each other on the lips before Kuroo darted off to enter the shop from hell and exchange his stupid sweater for an even stupider sweater. He was sure that Akaashi was suppressing a grin when facing him again.

“You’re just doing all of this to be a pain in the neck,” Tsukishima accused.

Akaashi stayed unperturbed. “Or maybe I just got a whiff of the Christmas spirit.”

“Or maybe you got a whiff of one of Kuroo’s toxic farts and it poisoned your brain,” said Tsukishima, but he didn’t fight it when Akaashi pulled at his coat to make out with him against the offensively decorated shop-window until Kuroo came back. They only noticed him because he wore the newly bought sweater and it was blinding, even through closed eyes. Kuroo didn’t say anything – he just stared at them and grabbed the orange nose hanging from his crotch-area to make it point upwards. Tsukishima made plans to burn the thing as soon as they got home. A nice little Christmas tree fire would probably take care of the problem.

“This is the best purchase I’ve ever made,” said Kuroo. “Bokuto will want to marry me right away.”

“You have to wait – Bokuto already promised himself to me, because I opened that child-proof bottle of cough syrup for him once,” said Tsukishima. “And I’m pretty sure he said he’ll marry Akaashi on at least five hundred different occasions, including that one time Akaashi told him if he whispered for a week straight, it would improve his lifespan.”

“So what?” Kuroo pouted. “He’s also promised marriage to that old lady who always accepts his Amazon deliveries, the hobo who lives in front of his favorite coffee shop, and a cute lizard he once saw. But I’ll be the one to put a ring on it!”

Just as soon as he spoke, Kuroo’s phone started blaring Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies”. Granted, it was an awesome coincidence, but Tsukishima still felt like throwing the phone against the wall, especially when Kuroo started to dance to it with a face that was a mixture of the duckface he usually put on for this song and pure, utter elation.

“Then again, if you marry Bokuto, I won’t be the one who has to divorce you,” Tsukishima said.

Kuroo just continued dancing until everyone around them was looking and Tsukishima suddenly knew that he had been serious when he had asked Hinata for his pointy hat.

“Shouldn’t you take it, maybe?” asked Akaashi. That finally made Kuroo realize he was being called and the phone hadn’t just started to play the song for some divine purpose. He abandoned his dance routine to dig his phone out of his back pocket and read the caller ID.

“It’s just Bokuto,” he said. “It’s probably not that important.”

He put the phone on loudspeaker before taking the call, so that everyone could hear Bokuto scream: “Fucking finally, man! What took you so long, this is important!”

“What do you need, babe?” asked Kuroo.

“Clothes!”

Tsukishima already groaned, just hearing the words. “How did you end up naked this time?”

“I’m not naked! Well… I’m wearing my Santa costume, but I forgot to bring my Mall cop clothes and I can’t be a Mall cop with a pillow stuffed into my pants! Plus, I need to give this costume to the substitute Santa, which means that I'll be naked soon!”

“When did you become a Mall cop?” asked Akaashi, confused.

“Since the real one is sick and his only substitute is a 70-year-old cyborg with an artificial hip and an artificial everything else. They just called me because they said I look like I’d be good at punching stuff. Anyway, I didn’t think anything would actually happen, but apparently there’s a stalker bothering a salesclerk on the third floor and I need to go and put the fear of God in him.”

“Okay,” said Kuroo in a tone that made it very clear he was trying not to break out into laughter. “I have some extra clothes right here.”

“No!” said Tsukishima, but Bokuto had already demanded they be delivered ASAP and then hung up. “No!” Tsukishima repeated, sternly. “We'll go and buy something normal right now!”

“Didn’t you hear, Tsukki?” Kuroo warbled. “It’s urgent. No time to worry about looks.”

“That stalker will take him even less seriously than the 70-year-old cyborg!” yelled Tsukishima, but Kuroo was already running.

Akaashi just shrugged when he was met with Tsukishima’s glare. “We should probably follow him,” he said. “I’m pretty sure these two shouldn’t be left alone with an ugly Christmas sweater and a license to put the fear of God into creepy stalkers.”

Tsukishima hated to admit it, but Akaashi was right. So he took the hand that was offered to him and let himself be pulled along, glaring at everyone they passed on the way down. Not a single child broke into tears, sadly. But one boy dropped his caramel apple and it lifted his mood enough to keep him from strangling any of his boyfriends too soon.

They found Bokuto hiding behind a cardboard cut-out of the Grinch, already shirtless, and stuffing his pillow down another man’s pants.

“How scandalous,” whistled Kuroo, walking up to him from behind and pressing a kiss against his nape.

Bokuto returned the greeting with a hurried: “Shut up! Do you have my clothes?”

“Yes, but you have to strip me first.”

Bokuto turned around at the word 'strip' and was suddenly beaming with joy. “You didn't!” he said. His eyes were glowing at the sight of the atrocious sweater and Kuroo pressed another kiss to his nose.

“Merry Christmas! I'm gonna need to get you a new present now, but that face is worth it.”

“Dude!” Bokuto gasped. “I love you so much!”

“Please don't say that with your hands down another man's pants,” said Akaashi. Tsukishima could only agree. That guy didn't look like he appreciated the invasion of privacy – and he was so huge! Also, Tsukishima wasn't sure if his eyebrows were just really light or if he didn't have any at all because he shaved them off in some weird satanic ritual. Kuroo was eyeing him with sudden distrust, too.

“Don't tell me this scary-ass guy is gonna be the substitute Santa?” he asked.

“Yeah, he looks like he'll eat the children,” Tsukishima added, because even if the guy was scary, he couldn't just let an opportunity pass to roast people with Kuroo. It was simply their thing and they had Bokuto and his brawn to protect them. They also had Akaashi and his eyelash-batting-talent, which had gotten them out of so much trouble before.

“If you really think so, maybe you shouldn't say stuff like this within his earshot,” sighed Akaashi, knowing fully well that Tsukishima had no control over this. Bokuto was undisturbed by their conversation about his colleague – he just continued to fiddle with the pillow and Tsukishima was almost sure that he saw the big guy blush.

“It's okay, I think Aone is Russian, anyway. Right, Aone?”

Aone just stared and Bokuto gave a happy nod, turning back to his boyfriends. “Yeah, I don't really know any Russian, but I think we would be good friends otherwise. He's really sweet with the kids.”

“I may know some Russian,” said Kuroo, clearing his throat. “Uhm... Panini!”

Aone showed no reaction.

“That sounds Italian. Are you sure you know what you're talking about?” Tsukishima said doubtfully. Well – Kuroo didn't know what he was talking about half the time he opened his mouth, so this really wasn't surprising.

“I heard Lev say it once and he's half-Russian!” said Kuroo.

Tsukishima really should have known. “In what context?” he asked.

“I think he was lying in a puddle of his own sweat on the floor, groaning “panini'”over and over again.”

“Maybe he just said the word 'pain'?” suggested Tsukishima.

“Oh...” Kuroo looked thoughtful for a moment. “That makes sense. Actually, I don't think Lev speaks any Russian to begin with.”

“Why would you even say that to this scary Russian? For all you know, Lev could have been cursing at you!” said Akaashi. From the looks of it, he had finally reached the stage of exasperation and Tsukishima performed a mental victory dance.

They all turned their heads in shock when Aone suddenly gave an awkward cough and said, “I'm not Russian...”

Bokuto immediately started yelling. “YOU SPEAK? Why didn't you say anything earlier?”

Aone was apparently too startled from suddenly being screamed at to say anything else, so he just looked to the side. Tsukishima was definitely sure that he saw him blush this time. So did Akaashi.

“I think he's just flustered because you won't stop fondling him!” he said, pulling Bokuto's hands out of Aone's pants and throwing the not-Russian an apologetic look. “I'm sorry that my boyfriends are all awful. Also, Bokuto, didn't you say that it was an emergency?”

“Oh!” said Bokuto, only just remembering his important task. “Right, I need to go save that salesclerk. Kuroo!”

Kuroo was already pulling off his sweater and threw it in Bokuto's face. “Yes! This is exciting... lead the way!”

“Follow me!” yelled Bokuto, running away in the direction of the escalators and leaving poor Aone to dress himself. Tsukishima awkwardly handed him the fake beard that had been hanging off the Grinch before he followed his boyfriends at a casual jog. He didn't really want to be seen dashing through the mall like some kind of maniac and he wondered how long it would take for Bokuto to get a report on himself.

Two hours maximum, he was sure of it.

~~~

“I was just hanging some sweaters on the clothes rails and suddenly the clothes parted and he was standing there, squeezed between the sweaters, hissing, “You should have come to Shiratorizawa!” like something out of a horror movie.”

The salesclerk dramatically wiped an invisible tear from the corner of his eye and shook his head like he couldn’t believe that kind of insolence. Tsukishima wasn’t sure if he wanted to buy his story. He looked like someone who needed the attention. But then, he also looked like someone who would have creepy stalkers like the one he described, so it was hard to decide. In any case, Tsukishima didn't want to help him. Someone who worked for an obnoxiously posh store like this one deserved to have weird people scare them from behind clothing rails. Actually, Tsukishima really wanted to try it, too. Their mannequins didn't even wear any clothes except for a Santa hat and it really pissed him off.

“Anyway,” the salesclerk sighed, taking off his glasses to wipe them on an expensive looking button-down hanging from the next clothes rail. “I was hoping they’d send someone who looked more fit for the job. Is that really your uniform?”

“I’m undercover,” Bokuto said in an important voice. “Do you think he’d show himself if he knew that I was a cop?”

“You’re not actually a cop,” said Akaashi.

“Really?” Bokuto materialized a walkie-talkie out of thin air and waved it in Akaashi’s face. “Then why do I have this?”

“Did you steal this from a toy shop on the way up here?” guessed Tsukishima.

“No, this is actually connected with headquarters!” Bokuto claimed. “Watch this!” He squinted for some reason, looking up to the ceiling – it was probably the kind of face he associated with spy movies. Bringing the walkie-talkie way too close to his mouth, he said: “There’s no sign of him so far. I’ll keep looking. Over.”

There was some actual static coming from the machine before the slurred voice of Death himself answered: “Keep me updated. Over.”

“Oh boy,” said Kuroo. “Is that the cyborg? Is he the one you have to report to?”

“He’s the brain and I’m the brawn. We’re a real dream team.”

“Good to know that you need a 70-year-old’s Alzheimer-riddled brain to do your job right,” Akaashi sighed. The salesclerk didn’t look too happy with his bodyguard, either.

“You know what? You can go, my boyfriend will do a much better job and he’ll do it without being dressed like an idiot.” He whipped out his phone and walked away, leaving Bokuto gaping after him, still waving his walkie-talkie about.

“But does he have this? You can’t be a cop without it! Everybody knows that.”

“Just leave him,” said Tsukishima. “I doubt that stalker is real, anyway.”

The salesclerk’s voice wafted over, chirping a delighted “Iwa-chan!”, followed by a less delighted, “Wait, don’t hang up on me! You-know-who’s back!”

“Is he talking about Voldemort?” wondered Bokuto.

“Maybe he is,” said Kuroo. “Maybe he’s some kind of freak in the middle of a kinky Harry Potter roleplay.”

“No way,” said Bokuto. “I’m a sexy cop, so he wouldn’t have sent me away.”

“But you’re a muggle!” Kuroo pointed out.

“Bullshit!” Bokuto grabbed the snowman’s nose and pointed it at Kuroo. “I have my magic wand right here!”

“Please stop this. I debated with myself that it would take two hours for you to get a report on yourself. This is too soon,” said Tsukishima.

Their discussion was interrupted by a high-pitched scream coming from the direction the salesclerk had strutted away to. Kuroo, Tsukishima, and Akaashi were still exchanging a glance while Bokuto had already stormed away, ready to kick some ass.

“What’s wrong?” yelled Bokuto as soon as he had reached the clerk, who was staring at a mannequin with a pale face.

“He was just there!” said the clerk, “posing as a mannequin!”

Alright – now Tsukishima was sure that he had lost it. “Really,” he drawled, a smirk slowly building on his lips. “Was he also naked with only a Santa hat on, or did he not have that much commitment?”

“I’m not crazy!” wailed the clerk. “He was there, I swear. But I think I spooked him when I started screaming.”

“Well, if he really was there, then he can’t be far. Let’s spread out to cover more ground!” Bokuto commanded, already diving into a rail with a bunch of coats hanging from it and disappearing into Narnia, most likely.

“Well,” said Akaashi and closed the gap Bokuto had left between the coats. “Now that that's taken care of - who are we even looking for? I doubt it’s actually a naked man with a Santa hat on.”

“He’s tall,” said the clerk, “and he looks like an asshole.”

“Very helpful,” said Kuroo.

“Brown hair, stoic, physically fit.”

“That does sound like an asshole,” Kuroo admitted. “But it also sounds exactly like the kind of person who would shop here.”

The clerk curled his lips at them. “You aren’t very good detectives,” he scoffed. “What, do you want me to draw you a picture? This store isn’t even big, it shouldn’t be hard to find a suspiciously acting guy with four people looking.”

“... Will be, if he's either a wizard or imaginary,” mumbled Tsukishima, but the clerk was already strutting over to the fitting rooms, locking himself into one.

“I'll wait here until my darling Iwa-chan comes to save me!” they heard him yell. Fine then. Tsukishima looked at Akaashi and Kuroo for advice.

“I guess we can't do much except dig Bokuto out of those clothes and pass that very useful description on to him,” said Kuroo, shrugging.

He was probably right.

“Then let's get to the digging,” said Akaashi. And they did.

It took a whole damn hour of turning every obnoxious, pastel-colored shirt around until they finally heard Bokuto yelling “I got him”, followed by a loud thud and an indignant, “What the hell?” Tsukishima threw the shirt he was holding over his shoulder to look for the source of the noise. He was the last to arrive. Akaashi and Kuroo were already shackling and gagging the guy Bokuto had tackled to the floor. It looked like they were using ugly cashmere scarves to do it. Tsukishima approved.

“Well, well, well,” Bokuto laughed, not caring about the looks some of the few customers browsing the store threw him. “Now that stupid clerk can't tell me I'm bad at my job anymore.”

“Where is he anyway?” asked Akaashi, looking over to the fitting rooms, which the clerk was just stumbling out of, squawking, “Iwa-chan!”

“Ah,” said Akaashi. “That's really not surprising.”

“What are you doing to my precious Iwa-chan, you monsters?” He actually managed to put a fake sob into his voice. Tsukishima was slightly impressed by the theatricality.

“Relax,” said Kuroo. “We just did what you asked. This was the only guy who fitted your description.”

They all watched unhelpfully while the clerk tried to untangle his boyfriend from the cashmere scarves.

“My description was brown-haired, stoic and looking like an asshole!” yelled the clerk. He had finally managed to extract the gag from his boyfriend's mouth and he suddenly went still, looking at him unblinking, as if he'd just realized something.

“Oh!” he said, right before Iwa-chan's forehead collided with his own, making him fall backwards to the floor.

“Don't 'oh!' me, Asskawa!” yelled Iwa-chan, still wrestling with the scarf tying his wrists together. He looked like a pretty violent guy, but Tsukishima couldn't help a sarcastic comment.

“What a beautiful, healthy relationship,” he smirked. “I can really feel the love between you two.”

“Shut up!” whined Asskawa. A fitting name, now that Tsukishima thought about it. “This is how Iwa-chan shows his love.”

Iwa-chan himself didn't feel the need to defend his actions, he finally managed to tear the scarves apart with pure muscle strength and threw the remains in his boyfriend's face. “What was that all about?” he demanded to know. “I didn't come here to be attacked in front of the whole store!”

“Yeah, sorry about that, dude,” said Bokuto. “This guy here isn't very good at describing people.” He held out his hand to pull the man back onto his feet and Iwa-chan took it without question. He didn't even seem to be angry with them, but he kept throwing his boyfriend annoyed looks.

“If you want them to find Ushiwaka, why didn't you just google a goddamn picture of him?”

“I don't want to taint my search history with that name!” Asskawa protested. Iwa-chan gave a long-suffering sigh before he pulled his boyfriend back to his feet and inspected his face for any lasting damage from the headbutt. Not that it would do much more harm, Tsukishima thought. He could understand why someone would want to punch Asskawa in the face a lot.

“That guy can be googled?” asked Kuroo. “Is he some sort of celebrity?”

“He's only the head designer of Shiratorizawa fashion,” said Iwa-chan, apparently content with the state of Asskawa's forehead. He turned back to them, only to be met with four open mouths gaping at him.

“Are you saying that Ushijima Wakatoshi is... your stalker?” Kuroo was finally able to say what they were all thinking. “Like, the Ushijima Wakatoshi?” He chuckled weakly. “Dude... you're out of your mind.”

“Look,” said Iwa-chan, suddenly very gentle with his crazy boyfriend. “I know what that sounds like. But it's true. He wants Oikawa to come work for him. Model for him. Be his muse.”

“Why?” asked Tsukishima – he almost impressed himself with the incredulity in his voice. Asskawa – or Oikawa, apparently – threw him a scandalized look.

“Isn't it obvious? I'm super pretty and super talented!”

“That's not why he wants you,” said Iwa-chan, rolling his eyes. “You're too hardworking. You even impressed him – that should really be a sign that you're overdoing it.”

Seriously? Oikawa didn't really look like the hardworking type. Tsukishima became more convinced that this whole situation was just one huge joke with each passing minute. “So one of the most famous people in the country just waltzed in here, unseen, to hide behind a bunch of ugly sweaters and give you a scare? You have got to be kidding me!”

“He was obviously wearing a mask to get in!” said Oikawa. “There's a lot of people with Grinch masks walking around. They were handed out at the entrance.”

“It's true,” said Bokuto. “I have one too, but they wouldn't let me wear it with the Santa costume.”

“Even if it was actually Ushijima Wakatoshi in a Grinch mask – there's no way we could arrest this guy just because he startled you. This is a waste of time,” said Akaashi, Tsukishima's favorite voice of reason.

Even Kuroo saw that he had a point. “Sorry, we really can't help you,” he said.

Bokuto, as expected, was the only one to repel any and all common sense. “Do you really take me for the kind of cop who would let down an innocent civilian just because the criminal is some famous rich guy? No way! I stand for justice and justice doesn't know class differences.”

“You're a Mall cop!” groaned Tsukishima. “Scratch that, you're the Mall Santa, posing as a Mall cop! You are really not the proper authority to deal with this.”

“If I'm the Mall Santa, then don't I at least have the authority to spank naughty children?”

“He does,” said Oikawa. “You do!”

“Please don't encourage him,” said Akaashi, but it was too late. Some pitiful individual wearing a Grinch mask just happened to walk by outside of the shop-window and Bokuto almost dropped his walkie-talkie.

“He's here,” he hissed.

Tsukishima's scream of “Kuroo, grab him!” came too late – Bokuto had already dashed out of the shop to chase an unsuspecting employee handing out Grinch-masks down the escalators. Their softening screams could be heard for about a minute, then there was nothing but silence.

Iwa-chan broke the silence with an awkward cough.

“That... was not Ushiwaka,” he said.

“You think?” groaned Kuroo, ruffling his already mussed hair. “Fuck! Thanks to you, he'll be fired again. Do you have any idea what it's like to live with him when he's unemployed and miserable?”

“There was so much whipped cream last time,” Akaashi said darkly. Tsukishima felt his stomach protest just hearing the words “whipped cream”.

“Maybe we can capture him before he breaks something important,” Tsukishima said with a sigh.

Akaashi had already abandoned all hope. “If there is whipped cream again,” he told Oikawa, “then I will find out where you live and I will cream your mailbox every day for the rest of my life.”

“You could have worded that better,” said Kuroo. “But I'll help.”

They all threw Oikawa and his boyfriend one last warning glare. Then they went to re-capture Bokuto.

Tsukishima watched slightly impressed as the guy in the Grinch-mask jumped over a bench with a little girl sitting on it, balanced on railings, hung from the decorations and climbed the entire Christmas tree covering all five floors. He was obviously familiar with the sport of parkour. Bokuto was... less familiar with parkour, but he stayed on his tail, leaving a trail of collateral damage in his wake.

By now, most of the people in the Mall were convinced that this was part of some show. Tsukishima couldn't count all the smartphone cameras pointed in his stupidest boyfriend's direction – but there was not much he could do, if he didn't want to end up on YouTube as a third party chasing through the mall and falling over and into trashcans left and right. Not even Kuroo had dared to step in front of the cameras. They all stood next to each other, gripping the railing of the fourth floor, and watched Bokuto climb the tree while yelling for the Grinch to hand himself in.

“Bokuto!” called Kuroo. “For the love of God, stop climbing! You're going to hurt yourself.”

The guy in the Grinch mask had just reached face-level with them and he stopped to stare for a moment. Tsukishima wondered if they should say something. Apologize, maybe, or tell him that he just needed to take off his mask and prove that he was not some rich fashion designer looking for a muse. But before any of them had made up their minds, the Grinch was back to climbing the tree. By the time Bokuto was on their level, the Grinch had already reached the fifth floor and was out of sight.

“Fuck!” wailed Bokuto – by the looks of it, his woolen sweater had become entangled with the tree’s twigs and he was stuck. He didn’t make for a very festive decoration, especially since his mouth kept spewing curses. “I can’t believe I let the damn Grinch get away!”

“Just think for a moment, please!” begged Akaashi while leaning way too far over the railing. “Do you really think that one of the most famous people in this country would use his free time to practice jumping over buildings without anyone knowing of it?”

“It’s usually the most famous people with the secret identities!” said Bokuto. “Actually, this all makes a lot of sense. I'll be keeping an eye on that Ushijima guy. He can’t fool me!” He took a deep breath and all three of his boyfriends reflexively covered their ears. “DO YOU HEAR ME, ASSHOLE? I’M ONTO YOU!”

“Bokuto, there are little children present!” said Kuroo. “You could at least have said butthole.”

They could hear Bokuto’s walkie-talkie crackle from where they were standing.

“I’m listening. Over,” said Bokuto.

Tsukishima took a look at his watch at the exact time the cyborg’s voice said: “I have a new report for some whack-job hanging in the tree, shouting obscenities. Should I call for backup? Over.”

“Merry Christmas to me!” said Tsukishima. He really should have taken a bet on it. It had been exactly two hours.

Bokuto was starting to sweat. “Uh – no, it’s fine. I can deal with one guy. Over.” He conveniently dropped the walkie-talkie after that and it shattered on the floor, almost giving an older man a heart attack. “Oops.”

“Just get off that tree,” said Kuroo. “I promise that Akaashi will cook you your favorite dinner tonight if you come down from there right now.”

“And Kuroo will give you a foot massage,” said Akaashi. Kuroo made a face at that, but accepted his fate.

“And I will maybe not kill you,” said Tsukishima.

“I can’t!” Bokuto tried to prove his point by pulling at his sweater. “I’m stuck!”

“Just leave the sweater behind,” sighed Tsukishima. “It’s not the weirdest situation you’ve been half-naked in.”

“No way! This is the awesome sweater Kuroo gave me. I can’t just leave it behind.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” promised Kuroo. “So please get down before you hurt yourself, okay?”

“I don’t want a new one. This one has your love in every single stitch and I will treasure it forever.”

“It’s not like I knit it myself!” groaned Kuroo. “Please, babe, just get down before the police arrive to help you.”

“I have an idea,” said Bokuto, followed by three voices shouting “No!” – Unfortunately, that little word was not part of Bokuto’s vocabulary. “I’ll swing the tree over to you and you can help me untangle it. I’d probably fall down if I did it myself.”

“You’ll fall down if you swing that tree!” said Akaashi. Bokuto didn’t seem to hear him. “Seriously. It’s like we’re three fathers with a small child!”

“Don’t you mean a very disobedient pet monkey?” said Tsukishima. “Fuck, here he comes!”

The first swing was not powerful enough to reach all the way to the railing. Neither was the second one, even though it managed to strew some Christmas tree ornaments over the people shopping on the first floor. The third swing was enough to break off the treetop.

“Fuck!” they yelled simultaneously– Bokuto’s was the loudest, which was not surprising, since he was the one floating in mid-air, stuck to an unattached treetop. Kuroo’s reflexes were fast enough to climb onto the railing and stretch his hand out to grab Bokuto by the foot, but there was no way he would be strong enough to hold up an entire Bokuto with half a tree hanging from him.

“Sweater!” yelled Akaashi. Bokuto had already understood – he just had to stretch out his arms and gravity did the rest, the treetop pulling his sweater right over his head and falling down on top of a festively decorated sled with a jolly Santa figure waving at the screaming shoppers. Bokuto observed the disaster while hanging upside down from the fourth floor’s railing, and tried to cover his nipples for some reason.

“It didn’t hit anyone!” he announced, as if this whole operation was a success.

“Reel him in, Kuroo,” said Tsukishima. “Before you change your mind and let go.”

“I'm seriously considering it,” groaned Kuroo, but he didn't – not really. He was already pulling Bokuto up until he could grab the railing and climb over it himself.

“So...” said Bokuto once he had safely made it to the floor. “Do you think there's any chance they won't notice that the whack-job on the tree was the Santa they hired?”

Kuroo patted his naked shoulder, shaking his head. “Sorry buddy – there were like a million cameras on you. You should have worn a Grinch mask, too.”

“Damn them for taking it from me! It's like they knew...”

“You dropped your walkie-talkie, so it may not be official yet, but... I have a feeling that you should go see your boss,” said Tsukishima.

“Great. So now I'm gonna get fired by a 70-year-old cyborg.”

“Maybe you'll get lucky and he already forgot what you did,” Akaashi said in a useless attempt at cheering him up. Bokuto shuffled away, already forgotten that he was shirtless and that there were still cameras pointed at him. He suddenly looked miserable.

Tsukishima, Kuroo, and Akaashi let go of a deep sigh once he was out of sight.

“He's still alive, at least,” said Kuroo. “He could have actually fallen. It could have been worse.”

“Whipped cream,” was all Akaashi had to say to smash his forced optimism.

“Okay, you're right. This is a disaster.”

“It's nothing we aren't used to,” said Tsukishima. “Actually, this is routine. We all know what to do, don't we?”

“Yes,” said Akaashi.

“Sure,” said Kuroo.

Tsukishima gave a purposeful nod. “Then let's get to it!”

Tsukishima and Akaashi were sitting on the curb at the parking lot, Bokuto sandwiched between them. He had already reached the peak of his despondence, letting his head hang low even though two of his boyfriends were snuggling against him, trying to cheer him up. It was truly a sorrowful sight to behold.

“It's not like you would have been able to keep this job after Christmas, so what does it matter,” said Akaashi. He had lent Bokuto his jacket so he didn't have to walk around shirtless after his boss had kicked him out, but it was really cold without a jacket and he had to try to keep the clattering of his teeth in check so Bokuto wouldn't notice. “Now we have you all to ourselves and if we want to sit on your lap, we can do so anytime.”

“It's just that I feel so bad – like, all my boyfriends are doctors and teachers and stuff and I can't even keep a single job, not even as a Mall Santa. That's really pathetic.”

“None of us is either a doctor or a teacher,” said Tsukishima. It probably wasn't important, but he really felt the need to point that out.

“It's not even like I'm lazy. I always give it my best!”

“We know you do,” said Akaashi. “And one day you will find the perfect job for you, but until then, you just keep doing things the way you do them, okay?”

“Maybe not exactly the way you usually do them,” said Tsukishima. Akaashi glared at him, conveying that he was being really unhelpful. He cleared his throat. “I mean... you could at least keep your clothes on, you know? Everything else is fine.”

“I could be a stripper, maybe...” Bokuto sighed.

“What did I just say!”

“You can be a stripper, if you want to,” said Akaashi. “But only if you want to.”

Well, Tsukishima thought, Bokuto actually would make a good stripper. He was hot, he could dance and he had that strange ability to enchant people with his limitless energy.

“I don't know what I want,” said Bokuto. “I just don't want to be a loser. Is it really that hard?”

“Now, now!” Kuroo's voice wafted over from behind them and Tsukishima released a breath of relief. Turning around, he caught sight of his third boyfriend, carrying a bunch of bags from different stores and burrowing through them for parts of the Bokuto-dejected-mode emergency kit. “If you were really a loser, then would you have an awesome boyfriend like me, buying you this?” He pulled another ugly Christmas sweater out of the bag. It was still atrocious, but at least it didn't have anything sticking out of it. Bokuto's eyes almost started to gleam again.

“Is that a fucking reindeer sweater?”

“This is a fucking reindeer sweater! And look – they're even having a foursome!”

Bokuto was already slipping out of Akaashi's jacket while Kuroo stepped around them and bent down to pull the sweater over Bokuto's head. “There,” he said, “it has my love in every stitch.”

Bokuto looked down at his ugly sweater with a wavering smile and Tsukishima couldn't help but to lean into him a little, even though all of this was extremely cheesy and not his style at all. Especially when Kuroo pulled out a can of spray cream.

“Now get ready for the second act of our play, 'Getting Bokuto to Laugh Again'!”

“Dude, I was born ready!” Bokuto yelled, practically deep-throating the can before Kuroo had the time to retrieve his finger.

“Okay,” said Kuroo, “this feels a lot different when it's my fingers coming in contact with it...”

“Don't be disgusting,” said Akaashi.

“Just spray him,” Tsukishima agreed and Kuroo did as he was told. The cream was spilling out of Bokuto's mouth after only a few seconds, but he gestured at Kuroo to continue – he was probably just slightly out of practice since the last time he had been unemployed and trained to chug a whole can of spray cream for his ultimate goal of making a Guinness world record. Kuroo kept pushing the trigger until the can only spew little white flakes and the cream was almost up in Bokuto's nose.

“Are you still breathing?” asked Tsukishima. Bokuto made a sound of which he hoped that it was an affirmative.

“I'm going to help you!” said Kuroo. Tsukishima really admired his bravery sometimes. He dived in without a second's hesitation and licked a huge serving of cream out of Bokuto's mouth while Bokuto tried to playfully push him away, coughing more cream in Kuroo's face in the process. It was all extremely disgusting and awful and Tsukishima loved it so much, he didn't even cock an eyebrow when Akaashi threw him a challenging look and leaned in to lick at Bokuto's mouth. What a little shit... Tsukishima would never lose to him, so he went in from the other side, pushing Kuroo out of the way to steal another portion of the cream in Bokuto's face. They pushed Bokuto back until he was lying on the ground, laughing and wheezing, spitting cream everywhere, but they didn't stop kissing him until all of the cream was gone and he was entirely out of air.

“Fuck...” he panted, closing his eyes in utter bliss. “I need to think of a world record that involves all of this!”

“How about we make a world record of being kicked out from places?” said Tsukishima – he had just caught sight of two policemen walking towards them and realized that three men licking cream out of another man's mouth in the middle of the day at a Mall's parking lot might fall under indecent behavior.

“I could be the guy who was fired from the most jobs!” Bokuto suddenly yelled, sitting up and almost headbutting Kuroo in the process. “This is genius! It can literally not go wrong!”

Tsukishima decided not to comment on how this could definitely go wrong when Bokuto turned around to kiss him, Bokuto-style, which meant a lot of tongue and passion and lack of air that Tsukishima couldn't even complain about.

“Seriously, though,” said Kuroo, who must have also noticed the policemen. “We should really go!”

“Go where?” asked Bokuto.

“Go home, obviously,” said Akaashi, scrambling onto his feet and pulling Kuroo up with him.

“Yes – and who knows?” said Kuroo, his usual smirk spreading on his lips. “When no one's looking, maybe Tsukki will even sit on your lap with us.”

“I won't!” said Tsukishima, correcting his glasses.

He would.

He did.