A.N: This story is for everyone who had to spend Christmas alone. Unbetaed.

Kaito spends the majority of christmas eve in Juanda International Airport, with no little amount of thanks to volcanoes spoiling the day and causing his flight to be delayed, all while fighting off a developing cold and he taps irritably at the screen of his phone. The free wifi provided is spotty, at best, and the message that he tries to send to Kudo never does send. He stares at the bright screen for a moment longer, Kudo's last messages in to him still open:

Heard your flight got delayed.

You don't sound very good in your last message.

Are you okay?

He switches off the screen, and slumps back down into the uncomfortable, thinly padded chair, shoving his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and wishing that he was home in his own bed, preferably with a year's worth of paracetamol to stave off the headache pounding at his temples. The local medicine here (a brand he's never heard of, but seems to be widely sold in pharmacy stores) doesn't quite seem to do the job, or maybe he's built up some kind of tolerance to pain medication, but either way, he's utterly miserable when he's in pain, not to mention far from home (and bed). That's not counting the fact that he's overseas on a work assignment to clean up after a disastrous project started falling apart at the seams due to some miscommunication on somebody's end. Kaito supposes that he can be a little more resentful towards that fact, but at the moment, he can't really bring himself to care - what's done is done, and he had dutifully cleaned it all up. Now all he wants to do is to go home.

He falls asleep without quite meaning to, startling awake intermittently as the announcement comes on over the PA system, but they are never announcing his flight, and so he falls back into the kind of dull, heavy sleep that does nothing towards helping him to feel any better. He dreams of soup, and files, and running around in an empty building, and the next time he opens his eyes, there's a girl standing over him, hand hovering over his shoulder and looking concerned. He starts, fingers twitching, and she pulls back immediately with an embarrassed flush, caught.

"Sorry," the girl says. She looks every bit as tired as he feels, though not as sick, make up smudging around her eyes. Kaito takes all of this in as he pulls himself back up into a somewhat more respectable posture, and scrubs at his face with one hand, glancing at the face of his watch. Six-eighteen. He's been stuck in the airport for what, eight hours, give or take?

"Can I help you?" he winces at the rough quality of his voice, and tries to clear his throat, apologetic.

"Are you - alright?" The girl looks concerned again, peering at him. "Cough drop?"

"Just a bit under the weather," he croaks, and massages at his throat. "Still fit for travel, I hope."

"I see… " the girl sticks a hand into the backpack she is carrying, then hands him a bottle of water, unopened. The label bears the airport logo on it. "Here. I got this from the counter. They charge you blood for a small bottle of water inflight. And medicine, in case you need any. I always depend on these for a cold or a flu. I once had to take a flight with a bad fever, and these got me through screening alright. And I thought that you might also like to know that our flight is boarding." She smiles, slightly embarrassed again. "I stole a look at your boarding pass. Sorry."

There is indeed a line at the boarding gate now, full of grumbling passengers and hassled looking ground crew. Kaito turns back to the girl, clutching onto the bottle of water and the blister pack of pills she's handed him and manages a smile. "Thank you. I wouldn't have wanted to miss my flight."

"You're welcome," the girl beams, relief evident now that her assistance wasn't unwelcomed. "Not jinxing it, but I hope we'll take off this time. We'll still be home in time for Christmas."

Christmas. Right. He had never been big on celebrating holidays, although he doesn't avoid it, indulging in festive cheer with reserve as appropriate. Now, with the way he's feeling, Christmas would have to take a backseat to sleeping.

"Here," says the girl, and thrusts a box of mint chocolates at him. "Merry Christmas! Feel better soon!"

Surprised, he accepts the chocolates, stuttering his thanks, and the girl leaves with a jaunty wave to join the queue to board the flight. Kaito waits, and doesn't stand up until the queue has dwindled down to the last few passengers. He doesn't see the girl again, and he sleeps for the entire flight home, curled up against the side of the aircraft. The medicine the girl gives him is effective, and he doesn't wake up until the rough bump from landing jostles him. Waiting for his baggage after clearing customs takes an eternity, and he digs into his bag for the chocolates that the girl has gifted him.

The chocolate, when it melts on his tongue, is warm and sweet and promising.

His house is still as he last left it - standing upright and just a touch dustier than before. He dumps his luggage in the living room, doesn't bother switching on the lights and takes a perfunctory, quick shower before crawling into cold bedsheets. He falls asleep almost immediately.

By the time he wakes up again, it is seven in the evening on Christmas day. Kaito only hugs his pillow tighter, burying his face into blankets that smell comfortingly of himself, and doesn't get out of bed until seven-thirty. It's Christmas, he's done his job, so he figures he deserves a lazy lie-in if he wants. He takes another scalding hot shower, noting that while he still feels heavy and fatigued, the headache is mostly gone, leaving behind only a vague sense of stuffiness that would go away with adequate rest and time. The girl's pills are a wonder, and he makes a mental note to purchase some when he walks by a pharmacy the next time.

In his kitchen, there is a crockpot that he doesn't recognise sitting on his kitchen counter next to his rice cooker when he shuffles in to fix himself some food. It smells like soup, and there's a note signed by three people tacked to his fridge with an egg magnet that hasn't been there before when he left. He takes the note down, ladles himself a bowlful of hot soup, and returns upstairs carefully with a hunk of bread he doesn't remember buying. His phone is nearly out of battery, so he plugs it back in, careful not to upset the bowl carefully balanced in his lap.

When? - K.K

V. sneaky. -K.K

I approve -K.K

He sends them a photo of the bread and the soup.

The messages come in like a flurry of snowflakes the moment it goes through - evidently they all have nothing to do on Christmas day (except for Hattori and Kudo, who takes a selfie together with a bit of yellow crime tape in the background because anything else would have been very inappropriate and incriminating).

Welcome back to Japan! - H.H

Merry Christmas, Kuroba. -K.S

Guess! -H.H

Three tries. -H.H

Dont wanna. -K.K

Pocky for you if you get it right. -K.S

Stole my keys. Replicated them. -K.K

Intimidated my neighbour. -K.K

Im sick don't do this to me. -K.K

You won't believe it. -H.H

Hakuba picked your locks. -K.S

Was gonna have a surprise party -H.H

But then we followed the trail of sniffling misery -H.H

Speaking of, get well soon. -K.S

He said that if you didn't want your locks picked, you would have switched for better locks on the market. -H.H

Hakuba! -K.K

It takes two minutes of spamming the group chat with stickers until Hakuba deigns to respond with a photo of himself looking smug. There's a christmas tree behind him, and a notice board bristling with pinned notes. It looks like he's in a cafe - reading, apparently, from the spectacles that he only takes out for long periods of reading. Holmes, probably. What a nut.

I stand by what I said. -H.S

My house! -K.K

You violated my house. -K.K

And me. I feel violated because you came in uninvited. -K.K

Diva. -K.S

Breaking and entering! -K.K

I'm calling the cops. -K.K

I am the cops. -H.H / K.S

The soup turns out to be chicken, with bits of chunky vegetables in it, salty and thick and comforting, a perfect replication of a recipe he remembers only having told Hakuba in passing when they were shopping for late night chips in a mart for horror marathon night. The thought has something warm unfurling in his chest, and he spoons up a bit of chicken and mashed potato, grinning helplessly down at his phone.

I hate u all. -K.K

Good. -H.S

The soup is also poisoned. You probably shouldn't drink it. -H.S

All this effort for little me. -K.K

So touched. -K.K

Now you have killed me -K.K

I hope you're proud. -K.K

If you're done whinging. -H.S

We would like a date for the make up end of year gathering that you missed. -H.S

You have a penalty! -H.H

Dinner's on you. -K.S

What? Why? -K.K

You missed the one in June, too. -K.S

Well, just get well soon, Kuroba. Nobody likes you when you're sick. -H.S

Everyone likes me when I'm sick. -K.K

Admit it you like it when I'm quiet. -K.K

Get some rest, stupid. -K.S

He is back in office bright and early the next day with a croissant sandwich and coffee in hand. Although he has wrapped up the work in Surabaya, there still are reports to write, not to mention his own that will be due soon early next year, and he vastly prefers the ambience of the office to his own house, with the ceiling to floor glass windows and sleek, unobtrusive white furniture.

The office space is mostly empty, and he doesn't switch on the lights in part to save electricity, and also because there is adequate natural light coming in through the windows to work in. Majority of the staff is away on holiday, except for the diligent one or two who look up curiously when the electronic door lock beeps behind him. Quietly, Kaito hums something from Tchaikovsky under his breath, and then struggles to find an empty space on his desk to place his coffee and breakfast.

His desk is nearly overflowing with ribbons and gifts, and someone has giftwrapped his mouse and keyboard as a joke (he's rather proud of having rubbed off on them that way). He gapes at all the festiveness for a moment, then sets down his breakfast to run his hands through his hair, thinking that maybe it would all go away if he stared at it for a while.

"Merry Christmas," says Hasegawa cheerfully as he walks by him to refill his mug of tea. "Good to have you back."

"Merry Christmas," Kaito returns automatically, then places his hands on his waist as he regards the presents and cards. There's a card attached to the one nearest the edge to him, and he presses it open to find that it's from his manager, with a note for him to have a happy holidays and thank you so much for the hard work. The others are from various other colleagues in his office, some from the secretaries and he hopes that it isn't anything too inappropriate for a christmas gift between colleagues. He whistles between his teeth, half frustrated and half amused - he had already given them their gifts before he had left Japan, knowing that he would more than likely miss Christmas, but he hadn't expected.

"Does anyone have a large paper bag that I can have?" he asks the office space loudly in the hopes that someone might have.

"If you want, I have a car and a driver you can borrow," Hoshino pipes up cheekily from his cubicle.

They work until noon, before agreeing to call it a day, Kaito having made good progress on his reports. His team has also made good headway into a project that needs presenting in early February, which does loads to ease the worry off of him (as always, he really should have trusted Takamura's emails, but Kaito has always been a hands-on, monitor it yourself person and it's a little hard to let habits die. He does have a great team, however, and he is grateful for that).

Hoshino drives him home, keeping up a steady stream of happy chatter about his daughter's new puppy as they sidle along in the heavy post-holiday traffic. Kaito piles him with the emergency chocolate he always keeps with him in case someone needs some perking up, and doesn't stop thanking Hoshino and apologising for the bother and time taken away from his family when Hoshino insists on helping him carry all his presents into his house. Hoshino shrugs it all off, slapping him on the back and pointing to an odd shaped parcel that is apparently from him, and drives away in good cheer after that.

The presents make a somewhat intimidating pile on his kitchen table, and Kaito snaps a photo of it, captioning it with my table will break soon into the group.

So when do you want to get dinner? Kudo pings him on a private line just as Hattori sends in a sticker (Ungrateful sod! If it hasn't broken yet, it will when you add mine to it. -H.H)

Dinner on 30th? I don't have any other free days until after New Year's. -K.K

[private line to Kudo]: Are you asking me out on a date? -K.K

[private line to Hattori]: Then you will have to buy me a new dining table. I want one made out of maplewood. -K.K

He makes himself some tea as the replies flood in. Hattori enthusiastically throws out suggestions into the group (all of the restaurants that he suggests are based in Osaka, however), while Hakuba agrees to clear his schedule for the day.

[private line]: Don't be daft. -K.S

[private line]: Of course it is. -K.S

[private line]: Stupid. -K.S

[private line]: The third unsuccessful date I've tried to ask you out on, too. -K.S

[private line]: Merry Christmas to me. -K.S

[private line]: I'll get you a 20% off voucher from IKEA. -H.H

[private line]: Get this one. (photo attachment) -H.H

[private line to Kudo]: What do you know, the third time's the charm they say. -K.K

[private line to Hattori]: Ugliest table ever. -K.K

[private line to Hattori]: I'll get it for you. It matches your face. -K.K

[private line]: But it fits in so well with the rest of your house. -H.H

[private line]: I am almost afraid to get my hopes up. -K.S

[private line to Kudo]: It's a resounding yes, stupid. In your own words. -K.K

[private line to Kudo]: It'll have to wait until the next year, but you can set the date and I'll cash in on my leave. -K.K

[private line]: This better not be a joke. -K.S

[private line]: It's not like you to be cruel. -K.S

[private line to Kudo]: It's only because you have no sense of timing. -K.K

[private line]: And not because you have an allergy to commitment? -K.S

[private line]: You're really saying yes? -K.S

[private line to Kudo]: YES. -K.K

[private line to Hakuba]: There. I won you your bet. I hope you're happy because you've cost me three months of potential happiness just because of our friendship. -K.K

[private line to Hakuba]: THREE MONTHS. -K.K

[private line to Hakuba]: Make it up to me -K.K

Nobody wants oden for dinner. -K.K

I want oden for dinner. -H.H

Dear children -H.S

Kaito sets his phone back down on the table, keeping an eye on the conversation as he grabs the nearest present to carefully give it a squeeze before picking at the tape. Already he is thinking of thank you cards and gifts that he would have to shop for, and while that is a headache in itself, he does have a lot of fun tearing into his gifts (someone has also re-gifted him his own stapler, with no signed card in sight).

[private line]: You have my thanks. -H.S

[private line to Kudo]: No Poirot. -K.K

[private line]: I'm not stupid, stupid. -K.S

[private line]: I'm glad that you're feeling much better. -H.S

Kaito's thumb hovers over his phone, and he thinks of the late nights he's spent staying up in the office, and falling sick in a country alone far from home, and of delayed flights and spending Christmas alone shivering under his sheets until exhaustion drags him into sleep. He thinks of chocolate mints and silly gifts and a crockpot of soup and grins.

[private line to Hakuba]: Me, too. -K.K