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If Napoleon wasn't already all about the magic of Christmas lingering in the icy air of the fair, people buying gifts with a smile and someone in mind, couples walking hand in hand, children singing; he'd be here because of his Nunuche. He has this unique trump card of his, for making any and all locations, scenic or urban or whatever, a thousand times more worth the visit - simply by taking her there. She is like a mirror of the energy of the place; emotions projecting on her face in pure, unadulterated honesty - gentle tears rolling down her cheeks at the opera, laugher ringing in his ears at the cabaret. A mature and tranquil smile to match his own while welcoming the dawn somewhere alone for miles. A giggle of innocence when their hands bump while laying the picnic.
Here at the Christmas fair, keeping her in his gaze proves to be a little difficult. And while a moment ago they were too a part of those cute couples walking hand in hand (that's one hand less freezing in the cold! It's very important!), now there is an unacceptably big gap between them. A gap of a whole stall, or two, or three. When did she managed to get all the way there?!
"Nunuche."
"Oh! Napoleon! I almost thought I'd lost you here for a moment!"
Napoleon groans, and the gesture is visualized in the form of a white puff of air. "Yeah. I thought the same. Don't wander off on your own like that."
He emphasizes his warning with a quick ruffling of her hair, which successfully binds her attention on him for the grand duration of three seconds, but not her eyes. They're too busy looking at the goods on display. And so Napoleon takes his own eyes off her, busy fixing the scarf which end fell off from where it was swept behind his back. This thing seems to be a bit too long, after all… he should consider going out with a different one next time.
And she's gone.
"Nu-nu-che!"
His brows come together in the middle in a frown, steps coming faster and heavier. And yes, he does call her by her actual name too, in case she forgot about his existence altogether and everything related with it, including his loving nickname for her. He spots her beige coat before any of his calls do the job.
"Come here." He comes with an idea and hurries to put it into action before she can escape again. The excessively lengthy scarf is suddenly coming in handy because Napoleon guesstimates correctly that it can be used by two. Unhooking one part of it from around his neck and looping it once around his puzzled nunuche, they're suddenly connected by the soft red cashmere. Almost like an improvised red string of fate.
"Napoleon!!! W-what is this!! Do you realize how we look from the side-"
"Like two lovers obsessed with each other's company. I know."
If it wasn't for his even tone and matching expression, MC would take it as another one of his teasing remarks. But now he sounds… serious. Somehow mad with her. Huh. She wonders what that's about.
The absurdity of Napoleon having to precisely keep up with her step AND struggle with the height difference at the same time aside, she manages a sincere pout. "I was looking for a present for YOU, you know!"
"And have you asked me what I wanted?"
Ack, she hates it when he answers that quick. "What do you want, Napoleon?"
"A kiss in front of the Christmas tree."
The Christmas fair, strategically situated in close proximity to said tree, would naturally have a path leading there. A path that Napoleon led the way to, without her noticing. And, just like that, they're at the perfect wishes-come-true location, if your wish includes a kiss from a person who's face is already forced close to yours.
MC doesn't need the scarf connecting them to shorten the distance. She'd even love having a stall or two or three worth of distance between them just so she can run all the way here and press her lips on Napoleon's, right now. Just so he could see how deep her intention runs. But it's fine.
His lips are cold, remarkably cold. For a second she wonders if they're going to be stuck like that, glued in an awfully perfect kiss. But they're not, and Napoleon sports a stupidly wide grin in the next second.
And they wouldn't have to worry about these things if they were to kiss again! Suddenly MC's lips are warm, because her cheeks are warm, because her ears are warm, because her heart is warm. But Napoleon is not kissing her anymore. She considers going once more around every single stall and booth from the first to the last, right this instant. Just because.
"Well, Napoleon, have YOU asked me what I wanted for Christmas?"
The staring contest is concluded, but even when running away from it Napoleon always comes out triumphal, somehow. It's very irritating.
"No need. I already got you something, by the way."
A sudden tug by the neck is seeing MC clinging to Napoleon's side, linking arms with him just in order not to stumble and fall with that scarf forbidding any distance to be kept between them. She wants to be annoying and pester with questions just to see if she can soften him into letting away some of it, but she already knows he won't say a thing. Or maybe ask him if he planned sharing the scarf ever since they went out. Suddenly, he is all she can think about.