Happy holidays, everyone!  Here’s another quick holiday Kanji and Naoto headcanon.  I hope everyone has a great Christmas/holiday/whatever-mas, and thanks for always showing so much love for these little writing tidbits!

Also, I have no idea why my headcanon for them is having two kids in the future, it just… is?

***

It happens every year.

Naoto quickly checks out of the hotel and runs for the taxi outside, suitcase in hand and heeled boots somehow staying perfectly balanced against the snow and ice.  She slides into the back seat and makes her request, “Train station please,” and pulls out her phone, sending a quick message, “The case has taken longer than expected, I am taking the first train back to Inaba now.”

Her phone beeps with a message a minute later, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll see ya when ya get here.”

“Unacceptable,” she texts, “I must be there for Christmas.”

Except when she gets to the train station there are no seats available on any train to Inaba, “But you do not understand, it is Christmas tomorrow!”

“I understand, ma'am, but everything is sold out.  I can get you on a train tomorrow afternoon.”

“But it will be too late!  It is a twelve hour trip!”

“Sorry.”

So she ends up staying at a motel near the train station, spending Christmas Eve in a poorly cleaned room, dust lining the single window and television only getting a few local channels.  Her dinner consists of what the vending machine outside offers and she can’t even use her laptop thanks to the terrible wi-fi.

“I told ya not to worry about it.  This happens every year, it’s tradition.”

“Something will happen,” she says over the phone, “I will be there tomorrow, you have my word.”

Of course her word means nothing, because her word cannot control the transportation system – yet.  She catches the afternoon train and gets to Inaba minutes after midnight.  Christmas has been spent on the train, the dinner consisting of food on a tray and a drink with too much ice.  When she walks into her home she apologizes, like always, and is greeted with her husband’s smile and promise of “It ain’t a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she says, curled up in Kanji’s arms as they sit in the living room together.  The tree is lit up, presents still wrapped underneath it, and cookies left on the table with a surprisingly legible note from two five year old twins, “I always miss Christmas,” Naoto whispers, “Why do criminals have to break laws around the holidays?”

Kanji laughs, “You kiddin’?  You are Christmas to us and the kids, just means we celebrate on the 26th.”

“Santa comes on the 25th.”

“So?  Kids are happier to see you instead of some bearded dude in a red suit.”  He nods to the cookies and note on the table, “Who do ya think that note is for?”

And, like every year, Naoto looks surprised as she walks over to the table.  The note is addressed to her, telling her that the cookies are what Santa didn’t eat, having left them for their detective mom who works to make sure that all the kids have a good Christmas.  And, like every year, Naoto gets a little teary eyed, smiling as Kanji comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her.  

And, like every year – despite her pleading – Kanji does not wake up the kids, “You just hafta wait til’ tomorrow,” he says, “I just got them to sleep an hour ago and I am not wakin’ ‘em up.”

Naoto relents, or so it seems, because soon she’s pulling away from him and running to the kid’s door.  Kanji just sighs and crosses his arms at his chest, smiling and listening from the living room as he hears the delighted cries of “MOMMY!”  

It’s the only gift she wants every year, though he supposes she’ll appreciate the other hi-tech gadgets he has wrapped under the tree.  He leaves the living room to stand at the door of their children’s bedroom, watching as Naoto hugs both of them – a girl with his eyes, a boy with her hair.  He doesn’t step into the room to join them, not yet.  Like every year he stands and watches, takes in the image of his wife and children hugging each other.  The feeling that overcomes him makes his heart feel warm, that feeling he always gets whenever Naoto Shirogane is anywhere near him, multiplied by two children who won’t be letting their mother go anytime soon.

He waits until Naoto looks up at him, ushering him to come inside.  He smiles and walks over, kneeling down and embracing all three members of his family, kissing the top of Naoto’s hair with a soft whisper of, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Naoto whispers back, “Happy December 26th.”

Kanji laughs, “Yeah,” he says, “Happy December 26th.”