gingerbread forts

Vanitas felt his eye twitch, the brightly lit decor of the workshop only serving to exacerbate his frustration. 

He glared into his mug of hot chocolate—wrinkling his nose at what remained of the marshmallow smile Sora had formed before the boy had taken off, something about a Claws man needing assistance—debating on whether he should chuck it into the nearest trash bin—

“You know, you can leave if you want. I’m more than enough company for Sora, just saying.”

—or at Ventus’ head. 

“Shut up,” he sneered, lip curled unpleasantly, grip tight—a miracle the porcelain hadn’t cracked yet. Stupid Sora, he thought as he attempted another sip, only to gag at the sweetness, Leaving me alone with this brat.

Ventus hummed as he fiddled with the hem of his sweater, a smile on his face. “Sora’s gotten a lot better at knitting.” He sighed wistfully, holding the bag of icing close to his cheek, “Though, it would’ve been nice if mine was the only one….” He laughed to himself—What an idiot, Vanitas thought—and pulled the gingerbread house closer, humming as he began to decorate the roof. 

Vanitas turned to his workstation, brow furrowed. Though he would rather die than admit it out loud, he had the same thoughts that morning when Sora appeared at his door with a sweater in hand. He remembered Sora’s flushed cheeks, a bright and eager smile on his face as he handed the gift over, not taking no for an answer. The way his eyes sparkled as Vanitas tentatively put it on, visibly holding his breath as he waited for the final verdict…

He slammed his hand down on the table, pieces of gingerbread jumping up and hot chocolate threatening to spill over, face a deep red.

“Y’know, you should probably be more gentle with the supplies,” Ventus commented nonchalantly as he moved on to the front porch, humming as he continued with his work, “Otherwise, you might get Sora in tro—”

“Shut up,” Vanitas said with half the bite he intended, suddenly wishing a hole would swallow him from the ground as the rest of the morning played in his head. 

So what if he had spent a second too long staring at Sora? Who cared if he leaned in when Sora blinked those eyes at him, all clear and crystal-like? 

Vanitas buried his head in his arms.

Leave it to Sora to misread the vibe of the moment.

“Ah, I’m glad you enjoy the gift, Vanitas!” he said cheerfully.

Vanitas stared at their clasped hands, arms limp as Sora shook them.

“Well, gotta go now! Merry Chris—ah! Master Xehanort! I have something for you,” Sora said in a hurry, rushing past his stunned form. “Oh wait,” he turned on his heels, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “Ah, if you’re free, wanna help out at Santa’s shop? Y’see, Jack kind of—”

He never agreed to help. 

Master Xehanort just got tired of him standing in the doorway, shellshocked, and sent him. 

He glared at the small house before him, cursing it under his breath. Stupid Sora and his stupid heart, he thought as he grabbed one of the candy canes laying around, twirling it between his fingers. He looked over the gingerbread people, who seemed happy enough, their mouths curved with colorful frosting. He sighed, mumbling, “I wonder if he would’ve tasted sweet—”

There was a loud pop! and he blinked, turning to the noise. Ventus sat with a vacant expression, piping bag destroyed, icing spilling from his clenched fists and drowning out the details of the roof tiles. 

Vanitas raised a brow. 

“Oh,” Ventus said, setting what remained of the bag down and wiping his hands, laughing far too pleasantly, “Sorry, I thought I just heard something unbelievable. My mistake.” 

“What—”

Ventus’ smile tightened. “My. Mistake. Now,” he said, pointedly ignoring Vanitas as he opened the toolbox each station was equipped with. “Where’s that spatula…?” 

As a being born of darkness, Vanitas would have been a fool to let the opportunity to provoke slip by. 

Workshop be damned, if the gingerbread people wanted such elaborate renovations, it’d be in their best interest to ask the gods for moveable bodies in the next life.

“Sora leaves his tools at our place a lot,” Vanitas said, the candy cane dancing between his fingers. He spun it once, twice, and then stopped, a smug grin on his face as he glanced toward Ventus from the corner of his eye. “Said he just loves cooking for us.”

“Hmmm, maybe the other tables have one….” Ventus dusted his hands off as he stood, looking around the factory, the elves gone for lunch. “Can’t leave these good cookies drowning in frosting now.”

Vanitas leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, humming. “I’ve told him I don’t need it, but he just insists on feeding me. Honestly, what a character!” He snorted. “Can’t believe how affectionate he is, especially when he puts frosting on his finger and—”

A gust of wind sailed by.

Vanitas blinked and turned to see a palette knife embedded into the wooden floor.

“Oh, look at that,” Ventus laughed. “Slipped right out of my hand. Clumsy me.”

“Heh, so even the light gets jealous of the dark. Hah! What a joke, and all because Sora dotes on me—”

“He’s like that with everyone, y’know! Ah, but then again, you don’t have any friends to talk about Sora with, so guess you wouldn’t!”

“Whatever. Keep your friends! Their hearts are nothing when I have Sora’s—”

“Silly you! Not knowing that Sora’s heart’s been in my hands from the beginning. Looks like you’ll just have to give up.”

Vanitas motioned at his mug. “Says the guy who didn’t get a marshmallow smile—” He kicked his feet against the table, back flat against the floor, narrowly avoiding another palette knife. He glared at Ventus, who smiled, holding up several more knives.

“Ah, looks like they had extras,” Ventus said. “Lucky me.”  

Vanitas rolled underneath the table to avoid the next wave that rained down, cursing under his breath. He heard the mug roll off the table, shattering against the ground, the now cold chocolate splashing against his fingers. Vanitas assessed the damage, and he couldn’t help but snort when he saw that the marshmallow smile had still retained some of its structure, despite the commotion.

Of course, Sora’s love would last. 

Shaking his head with more fondness in his head than he’d like to admit, Vanitas rolled to the other side of the table, jumping to his feet and grabbing a giant candy cane from nearby. He pointed it at Ventus, the blond’s brow furrowed. 

“Sorry, Venty-Wenty, but the boy’s mine.”

Ventus rolled his eyes, “Over my dead body.”

“Now that,” Vanitas said with a glint in his eyes, the candy cane held high above his head, “Can definitely be arranged.”

Jack fluffed the ends of Sora’s hair, humming as the two boys his friend had invited tussled along the workshop floor. He watched as one threw a rather nasty punch with enough force behind it to bring down even the strongest of warriors. The other quickly recovered and threw him off and across the room. 

“Ah,” Sora began, tilting his head so Jack could tie the ribbon in his hair more efficiently, “Sorry about the mess, Jack.” He adjusted the boxes in his arms, sighing. “We were supposed to help, and yet….”

“Nonsense, Sora!” Jack laughed, patting his dear friend’s shoulders. “What’s a gift without a little kick to it?”

“Isn’t that why Santa got mad in the first place?”

Jack waved his hand. “All in the past. But I must say,” he stood to his full height, smiling as he twirled, “This sweater is simply marvelous!”

Sora was practically glowing. “Glad you like it, Jack!”

“I feel as if the world could set aflame from my delight!”

Sora glanced toward Ventus and Vanitas, the latter currently in a headlock, while Ventus shouted out things along the lines of, ‘I was there first!’, and, ‘You wish you could be his sleeping beauty!’ 

He smiled and turned back to Jack. “Yeah… let’s hold off on that thought for now.”