A/N: Happy Christmas Faithful Readership!

Not sure how I like this one; I'm trying to avoid comparing it to "White Day," but being as they're in the same universe, that's proving rather difficult. I'm sick of toying with it, though, so I'll post her now and you all can tell me whether it's worthy of following "White Day" or not, m'kay? :D

Disclaimer: Not mine, not now, not ever.

More Of A Note Than Anything:

Christmas in Japan: Christmas is thought of as a romantic holiday in Japan (don't ask me why); it actually looks very little like the Western version of Christmas, and much more like the West's Valentine's Day. It's a time of year to take out your special guy or gal, and spending Christmas Eve with a girl puts a lot of deep, romantic subtext on your relationship with that person.

Secret Santa

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December 2009

His employees were plotting again.

Saitou's eyes narrowed as he made out bits and pieces of conversation from the direction of the coffee pot. The other women had cornered his secretary when she'd gone to get him a fresh cup, and they'd been whispering something about Christmas and Santa for the past five minutes. He'd been trying to piece it together, so that he was prepared when they invariably talked Takagi into asking him to do something ridiculous.

The Idiot Brigade had realized his secretary was his Fatal Weakness.

Oh, he'd tried not to be too obvious about it, but really—her birthday had been the first one he'd allowed the office to celebrate. Where everyone else had at some time or another faced his wrath (in various degrees of intensity), Tokio had never been treated to anything but his usual demeanor. He had never said a cross word to her, had never been anything but nice to her (in his own way, mind), so the Idiot Brigade was bound to notice it sooner or later.

…damn.

His gaze flickered over in the direction of the coffee pot as Makimachi (how HR had seen a reliable employee in the woman he privately referred to as "Weasel" was a profound mystery that he didn't think he'd ever solve) became a touch too exuberant in her convincing, forcing Sekihara, Takani and Kamiya to vehemently shush her, and he wondered idly if he should be worried. This little powwow was taking quite a bit of time, which meant he probably wasn't going to like it. Takagi had a knack for knowing what would irritate him and what wouldn't, and the longer she attempted to resist the Idiot Brigade's demands, the more likely it was that he was going to be very strongly opposed to whatever they had come up with.

He smirked a little. Not a day went by that he didn't thank the gods for dropping Takagi into his lap. The woman was every manager's dream: she was efficient, she was competent…and that she was nice to look at didn't hurt either. She was thoughtful, dedicated, and cute as all hell—he'd been amused and vaguely touched when, upon coming into work her first day as his secretary, he'd found her standing beside his desk, upon which sat a cup of black coffee as well as all the folders he'd need to be reviewing that day.

Clearly, a woman after my own heart, he'd mused with no small amount of humor.

Yes, he could say, without a single doubt, that hiring Takagi as his secretary had been the best idea he'd ever had. Unlike Makimachi, Saitou had never regretted Takagi's presence at his work station even a day.

Saitou looked down at his wristwatch and decided he'd allowed the idiocy to go on long enough—even too long. He really ought to have put a stop to it by now. With that in mind, he said, never looking over in the women's direction,

"Get back to work, ladies—the section doesn't run itself, to my deep regret."

The words immediately scattered the women, all of whom beat hasty retreats to their desks with embarrassed apologies. Takagi was very obviously mortified as she scurried back to his side, the coffee she'd gotten up to get for him in hand.

"I'm sorry Saitou-san," she said softly, anxiously.

Saitou inwardly sighed at the immediate urge that rose in him to soothe the woman—to his utter mortification, he often found himself on the verge of being disgustingly nice to his secretary.

Not that the woman didn't deserve it…but really now—he had a reputation to uphold.

"I know you are, Takagi," he said instead. You always are, he thought with more than a little amusement. "Thank you for the coffee—get back to work."

"Yes sir," she said with a shallow bow, setting his coffee on his desk within easy reach and away from anything important should it spill (she had a knack for knowing which spot that was at any given time on his desk).

She hurried back to her desk and quickly immersed herself in work, and Saitou's gaze flickered to her as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.

He wondered how long it was going to take for her to approach him with the Idiot Brigade's latest Idiot Request.

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It turned out he only had to wait until lunch.

Rather than leave with the Idiot Brigade the way she usually did, Takagi lingered around his door, clearly waiting for an opportune time to interrupt him.

Saitou decided to take the choice away from her:

"Something on your mind, Takagi?" he asked mildly, never looking up from the report he was reviewing (and correcting, much to his immense irritation).

"Uhm, well," Takagi said softly. "The office ladies were wondering."

"About?" he prompted when she didn't go on.

"About having a Christmas party," she said, voice breathy with nerves.

She had no idea what that breathy little voice did to him.

"A Christmas party," he repeated, finally looking up at her.

She was watching him, visibly nervous and a little embarrassed, and he knew it was because she felt like she was bothering him with stupid, unimportant things when his time was better spent on more worthwhile endeavors. If there was one thing he had learned about his secretary in her seven years of faithful service to him, it was that she was, first and foremost, very professional, and thus tended to think that anything not directly dealing with their department or the regular goings-on of their office complex were nothing more and nothing less than a bother to him and a general waste of his time.

And she was certainly right about roughly 99.99% of the time.

His secretary had a nearly flawless Bullshit Radar.

"Yes sir," she said with a faint wince she couldn't quite keep off her face.

It was a universally acknowledged truth that Saitou didn't care for holidays, and for Christmas in particular. He wasn't a humbug, per se—he did allow his section to have a Christmas party every year, and work usually stopped that day—but he didn't really partake of the Christmas spirit or cheer. The most he did was tell his section that they had Takagi to thank for the décor and the food, and to be ready to make up for time lost tomorrow…oh, and Happy Christmas, or whatever.

"I wasn't aware that you and the office ladies needed my permission to have a Christmas party, Takagi," he said after studying her for several silent moments.

"Ah, well, the office ladies were thinking of doing something a bit…different this year, Saitou-san," she replied, looking like she wished she'd never brought this business up.

"Different," he repeated flatly, remembering all that conspiratorial whispering from earlier.

Gods above, he thought.

"Yes sir." He didn't think it was possible for her to look any less enthused about telling him this than she already did.

"Different how?" he asked with a sigh, leaning back in his chair and anchoring his chin in his hand, fixing her with what he knew was a long-suffering expression.

"They want to do a Secret Santa, Saitou-san."

"And what, in the name of all that is good and holy, is a Secret Santa?"

She drew in a deep breath, let it out, then said:

"It's a gift exchange. Everyone randomly gets assigned someone to buy a gift for, but no one knows who their Secret Santa is until the day of the exchange."

Saitou frowned.

"This has the capacity to turn my section—half of which I'm convinced suffer from ADD—into nothing more than a glorified water cooler where all anyone talks about is who their Secret Santa could be." he said.

Takagi nodded, having clearly realized already what his thought process would be.

"They already asked around the office, and everyone is willing to do it," she added. "They even figured on a respectable cap on the amount to spend on the gifts. Eighteen hundred."

Saitou considered her.

"So they asked around the office already," he said slowly, "and everyone is willing to do it?"

He saw a little wrinkle form between her eyebrows, saw her confusion in her eyes, but gods love her, Takagi dutifully answered him:

"Yes sir."

"Including you?"

Her eyes went wide, and she blushed and ducked her head.

"Only if you said we could do it, Saitou-san," she said hesitantly.

"Hn."

Saitou pursed his lips and considered his options. There was no question that his already easily sidetracked section would be utterly derailed if he allowed this Secret Santa nonsense to take place. They were good, hard workers, but only if there were no distractions, and he took great pains to ensure that there were no distractions (which was why he was always booting that obnoxious Birdhead out of here. Also, it amused him). On the other hand, if he set down some ground rules, there was every possibility that they would be followed to the letter in thanks for his generosity.

…oh who was he kidding: it would take Takagi's telling them not to blow it for this to go off without any catastrophic hiccups.

"Assuming I was to allow this farce," Saitou said after several long moments of careful contemplation, "to proceed, Takagi, you understand that there would have to be certain stipulations?"

She looked utterly surprised by his words, and Saitou had to grin—thought he was a bit of Grinch, did she?

"Stipulations?" she asked in wonderment.

"Stipulations," he repeated, nodding. "Things like keeping the gossip about Secret Santas to lunch hours and off-the-clock hours, and generally not letting it affect the smooth and efficient running of my section."

"Oh—ye—yes sir, Saitou-san," she said, looking delighted with him, and Saitou was unable to stop a feeling of satisfaction with himself from forming.

He might not have thought very much of Christmas, but it was, aside from White Day, Takagi's favorite holiday, and he was not above using this knowledge to win himself some brownie points with his secretary.

He nodded.

"I leave the details in your capable hands, Takagi," he said.

She smiled at him.

"Thank you Saitou-san," she said warmly, bowing.

"You're welcome. Now go to lunch."

"Yes sir."

He watched her walk away thoughtfully, then sighed and straightened in his seat and got back to work.

"I only hope," he murmured with a rueful smile, "that I won't regret it."

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The air was full of much more excitement than was the norm the next few days, though not enough to make Saitou regret giving in to his Fatal Weakness for his secretary; Takagi was as good as her word, and she kept the section on track for the most part, so Saitou was content to overlook the few instances of impaired productivity that cropped up.

An unexpected bonus to this ridiculous Secret Santa business was, surprisingly, the Idiot Brigade. It seemed like they were coming up to Takagi just about daily to offer up more suggestions, under the guise of reporting whatever it was they'd been working on to her, so Saitou was treated to more than one amusing conversation. His hands-down favorite, though, had to be the one that had taken place between Takagi and Sekihara two days after he'd agreed to the addition to their holiday celebration.

Sekihara had approached Takagi for about the twentieth time in two days, ostensibly to report; the woman's subterfuge sucked, and Saitou supposed it was a good thing she was an office lady, because she'd have made a lousy spy—she was about as devious as Elmer Fudd, and twice as hopeless.

"Tokio-san, I just had the best idea!" Sekihara whispered excitedly.

"Oh?" Takagi peeked through the window into his office; Saitou, watching them out of the corner of his eye, gave no indication that he could hear or was even aware of the whispered conversation taking place a mere three paces from his door.

"Uh-huh!" Sekihara nodded her head emphatically. "The girls and I were thinking we should have someone in the office dress up as Santa Claus and pass out the Secret Santa presents."

Takagi's head immediately whipped around to Sekihara, and it was clear the suggestion had caught her off guard.

"Santa Claus?" she asked.

"Uh-huh!"

"Oh Tae-san…I don't know…" Takagi once more peeked at him. "I don't think Saitou-san would be too pleased—"

"That's the best part!" Sekihara said, clasping her hands together in obvious delight. "Saitou-san would be the one to dress up as Santa!"

Saitou couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him; luckily, he was able to pretend it was a sneeze.

Both women jumped at the sound and sent anxious looks through the window. He made a great production of ignoring the two pairs of eyes boring into the side of his head, reaching over and grabbing a tissue from the box on the corner of his desk that Takagi regularly replaced for him.

"Bless you," Takagi called.

"Thank you," he said nonchalantly, never looking her way.

"It's sort of rude of him to not look at you, isn't it?" Sekihara prodded, faint disapproval coloring her tone, and Takagi frowned and turned back to the woman.

"You should get back to work before Saitou-san says something," she said flatly, and Saitou—delighted at her offense on his behalf for reasons he preferred not to examine—decided now was as good a time as any for "a coincidence" to occur.

"Is there a problem, Sekihara?" he asked without looking away from his computer screen, and Sekihara jumped two feet into the air.

"No sir!" she said a little too brightly, voice about a half octave too high.

"Then I suppose you should be getting back to work, don't you?"

"Yes sir!"

Sekihara scurried back to her seat and didn't bother Takagi again.

As for Takagi herself, she didn't breathe a word of his dressing up as Santa to him.

Impeccable discretion as always, Saitou thought with approval.

"How goes the party planning?" Saitou asked Takagi three days before Christmas Eve, when the party was to happen.

"Very well, Saitou-san," she said, looking surprised that he'd brought it up.

They were walking back to the section from a meeting, the notes she'd dutifully taken safely tucked away in a folder so she could type them and file them away.

"Hn." Pause. "Who did you end up getting foisted on you in that ridiculous exchange?"

She smiled.

"Makimachi-san."

Saitou snorted.

"Good luck. I don't envy you."

She laughed softly and he smirked faintly at the sound.

"She's easy," Takagi said. "It's Takani-san who's got the hard one—she and Kamiya-san have been friends for a while, and she's worried about what to get her."

"The unflappable Fox, worried?" Saitou asked mockingly, and Takagi's smile widened. "And here I thought I'd never live to see the day."

"Saitou-san," she chided gently, but her expression belied her tone.

"I'd like to thank you for keeping the idiocy down to a bare minimum," he said.

"You're welcome," she said, looking and sounding pleased, and Saitou was pleased to have made her so happy.

Not much had changed since last year's fateful White Day, when his secret had come out. There had been no shift in the balance of power, and there were no overt signs that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. But she did more discreet, little things for him than she had previously, like ordering lunch (soba) for him when he worked through his noon hour, or stocking his desk with a few quick but filling snacks for when he needed them. He hadn't, as yet, been able to come up with an appropriately suitable way of repaying her for these little attentions that he very much appreciated, but he was working on that.

He had a few ideas, anyway.

Though he was pretty sure that continuing on with the "Secret Admirer Chocolates," as they'd become known in the office, had been repayment enough as far as she was concerned; he'd seen the delight but also the relief on her face when she'd seen the chocolates this year, and her blush and soft "Thank you" before she'd left that evening had been especially becoming. It had entirely made up for the fact that he was no longer able to gift her the chocolates—not just what he thought was her due for putting up with him, but also a token of his admiration for her as a very pretty woman—anonymously.

Still…

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"Saitou-san?"

Saitou glanced up from his computer screen at his secretary's voice, and managed to hide a grin.

She was wearing a Santa hat, and there was a cheery little wreath brooch pinned to her blouse.

"Time?" he asked, sitting back in his seat to appraise her more fully.

"Yes sir," she said with a prim bob of her head, and he nodded, then sighed and rose and began pulling his shirtsleeves down so he could button them.

"I don't have to stay past my obligatory speech, do I?" he clarified as he worked.

"No sir," she said, shaking her head, a smile playing about her mouth. "We can do the rest on our own without you."

"Good," he muttered, having finished buttoning up his cuffs. He tightened and straightened his tie, then removed his glasses and set them down on his desk, on the stacks of invoices he still had to review before the day was out.

"Do I look presentable, then?" he asked.

"Yes sir," she said, smiling.

"Hn. Best address the natives before they get too restless," he murmured, coming around from behind his desk and heading for the door.

She moved to the side to let him by, then took her customary place behind him and slightly to the right. She trailed behind him until he reached the table that had been set up in the corner to hold the section's small Christmas tree and the Secret Santa gifts that had steadily piled up all morning. Saitou decided he approved of the décor—inasmuch as someone who didn't really care about Christmas could approve, anyway—and then turned to face his employees.

"Right then," he said, "I'll be brief. You all have Takagi to thank for this party, so be grateful and enjoy yourselves. Be ready to make up for time lost tomorrow. Oh, and Happy Christmas, I suppose."

His workers, used to his indifference toward the holiday, politely clapped, and Saitou nodded and made to go back to his office—where he planned to shut and lock his door and try to get some work done—but Takagi's voice stopped him.

"Saitou-san? Before you go, we wanted to give you this," she said, stepping forward and picking up a gaily wrapped rectangular box and handing it to him.

"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, able to hide how thrown off he was by sheer luck—this, he had not been expecting in the slightest, as his receiving a Christmas gift from his section was unprecedented.

"As a kind of thank you, for being so generous about the Secret Santa thing," Takagi said with a polite smile.

"Hn." He paused, unsure if he should open it, then decided he might as well get it over with.

As it turned out, his section had bought him a bottle of some very fine saké.

"We all pitched in a little," Takagi explained. "Happy Christmas, Saitou-san."

"Hn." He eyed Takagi, fairly sure he knew whose suggestion this had been. "My thanks," he said, addressing the group at large. "Now go on ahead and get this business over with and out of your systems."

His workers needed no further prompting, and Saitou started back for his office with his present tucked under one arm.

"That was a great idea, Tokio-san," he heard Takani say.

"You know what would be even better? If we could get Saitou-san to dress up as Santa," Sekihara piped up.

"Don't push your luck, Tae-san." Takagi dryly advised.

He didn't allow himself to laugh until his door was firmly shut and locked, and the blinds in his window had been drawn.

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He shut down his computer at eight thirty, done with everything that needed his immediate attention, and so, because he had nothing better to do and he could still hear people beyond his door, he opened his saké and indulged in a cup.

It was very good quality, so he nursed it for almost an hour, savoring it until his cup was empty. By then, he couldn't hear anything out in the main room, and he decided it was time to pack up and leave. So he corked up the bottle again and carefully packed his present back into its box, and then began to pick up his belongings and tuck them away in his briefcase.

Once he'd shrugged into his jacket and coat and picked up his briefcase and present, he made sure everything was in its proper place before he killed the lights and walked over to the door. Darkness didn't impede him at all, and he unlocked the door and opened it with ease…

…to find Takagi picking up the remains of the Christmas party, quite alone.

Saitou paused, surprised by the sight.

"Takagi?" he asked, sure he was imagining her there, plucking up trash to drop in the garbage bag, humming some holiday song or another softly while she worked.

At his voice, she looked up, startled.

"Saitou-san? You're still here?"

"I should be asking you that," he said. "Where is everyone else?"

"The last person just left," she said.

"And foisted off cleaning up on you," he said with a frown, quite displeased at this blatant abuse of his secretary.

"Oh no, this is just the last of it," she assured quickly, smiling. "I was going to take this out with me when I left. I thought for sure you'd gone hours ago, Saitou-san."

"I preferred to wait out the madness," he said, setting his briefcase and gift on her desk and striding toward her. "Here," he said, taking the garbage bag from her, "it'll go faster with two, and it's late enough as it is."

"Oh Saitou-san you don't—"

"Takagi," he said quietly, staring at her, and her protest wilted under his gaze.

"Yes sir," she said. "Thank you."

He only nodded, then gestured with his nose for her to finish.

They worked in silence for a while, and when the last of the trash had been dropped into the bag, Saitou deftly tied it shut and shouldered it.

"I'll take this if you grab my briefcase," he said, though it was in no way a suggestion, and she well knew it.

She obediently grabbed his briefcase—and saké—after she had packed up her own things and bundled up, and they left the office together, in companionable silence.

"Thank you for the saké, Takagi," he said without looking at her, eyes trained on the numbers above the elevator as they waited for the car to reach their floor.

"Well, everyone else was getting a present, and it didn't seem nice to leave you out, especially since you had been kind enough to let us have the exchange in the first place," she said, and he saw her blush out of the corner of his eye.

Saitou smiled, feeling it was safe to do so.

"All the same, the gesture was appreciated."

"You're welcome, Saitou-san," she said softly, her delight evident in her voice.

The ride down was silent, but warm and enjoyable, and she trailed after him while he located the building's trash bin and tossed the bag.

"Here you are," she murmured, surrendering his briefcase and gift to him.

"Thank you." He appraised her. "Had anything to eat?"

She blinked, thrown off by the question, and though he'd never say it out loud, she wore confusion adorably, especially with her Santa hat still perched on her head.

"No."

"I thought as much," he said with a nod. "Well, come on, Takagi, I'll buy you dinner. We'll call it my Christmas present to you."

She blushed furiously.

"Oh—Saitou-san—!"

"You aren't hungry?" he asked.

"I—well—yes."

"Then what's the problem?"

She looked terribly distressed, and he wondered if he might have been a little too forward—Christmas Eve was for lovers, after all, something he was quite aware of even if he didn't broadcast that information.

"N—nothing," she said weakly.

"Good," he said, with a faint smile. "Come on, then."

"Yes sir," she said with a nod.

"Tokio," he said, and she went very still, eyes going huge in her face.

"Yes?" she whispered, and his smile grew.

"Call me Hajime."

She stared at him in shock for several moments, before giving him a lovely little smile.

"All right…Hajime."