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They agreed on it, shook on it, even went so far as to create a contract of agreement.
No gifts were to be exchanged during the upcoming winter holidays.
The ducks and critters were enough, they had agreed. Even though Screwllum had ‘happened’ upon another six rubber ducks for Little Screw and Dignitas. Even though they were also now taking care of a premature critter that Screwllum lovingly calls Ru.
So yes, they had agreed upon no gifts. And so far, it has been fine. He had caught Screwllum often staring at some book or knickknack while they were out on various planets, and Veritas was just as guilty of it too, but they had stuck to the agreement and had not gotten the other any gifts.
Which leads him to now, tap tap tapping his foot, glaring at his partner.
△
He’s towel drying his hair from his bath, mulling over the day’s progress, when he spots something out of the corner of his eye. Odd, he thinks, that light was off before I took a bath.
And he knows that light was off because the room in which said light illuminates is his and Screwllum’s office in his apartment. Normally, they both shared a bad habit of working late into the night, but they had agreed that on Thursdays, all work ended at six sharp, no matter what or where they were. Veritas would see himself to his bath, while Screwllum would do a quick lap of the lepidopterarium if they were on Planet Screwllum and if they were not, he would busy himself with his romance novels or word games. No matter what, they stuck to that plan. So seeing the light on was…odd. He knows Screwllum would not be in there unless an emergency happened on Planet Screwllum and he needed access to his computer, but Veritas knows that Screwllum would have come to get him for that.
Curious, he opens the door to a chorus of meows.
“Now, now. I am not ready yet. Request: Please do not be so loud. You might alert Veritas to our plans.”
“Too late.” Screwllum does not stumble—the element of surprise has never worked on him—but he does hunch in a little before he turns to face Veritas.
“Ah, hello, my love. How was your bath?” He raises an eyebrow at the pet name, walking into the room until he is within reaching distance of Screwllum. He doesn't miss the way that Screwllum’s head tilts down for a split second, before righting.
“It was fine. I believe I need to call the building’s super again in regards to the water temperature, but other than that, it was decent. Oh, and I will need to reorder the jasmine bath soak from Salon Tuesday when we return home. I am out.” Screwllum nods in that curt way that Veritas knows means the matter is taken care of, the soak has been ordered, and he should not be surprised to find a box in his bathroom in Screwllum’s mansion. Matter settled, he’s about to inquire about what Screwllum was doing in the office and not their room when he spots it.
A medium-sized box, wrapped in garishly gold paper and tied with a holographic silver ribbon.
A gift.
“What is that?” Screwllum stands from his crouch, bringing the box with him. Veritas notes absentmindedly that Screwllum’s head is tilted toward him.
A sign of nervousness.
Screwllum is nervous.
Why would Screwllum be nervous? He looks back down at the box again, then back at the little cakes who have now gone silent.
“Screwllum—”
“This afternoon, as I was walking around the Guild’s property with Ru in an attempt to see if direct sunlight during a high UV period would help with his outer shell—” What?
“Screwllum.”
“—I stumbled upon the daycare center. The staff were very kind to Ru, and myself, and I’ll be communicating with Ruan Mei in regards to seeing the transfer of several—” Oh no.
“Screwllum.”
“—critters that are more durable. Color, texture, and noise will also be a factor as well, which will be in the proposal I send to Ruan Mei. I didn’t stay long, but I was curious about the activities they had all the children doing.” Oh, his poor darling Genius.
“Screwllum.” The man continues to talk, words coming out fast but clear.
“All ages of children were doing the activities, with such items like popsicle sticks, glitter, pa—” Truly, what is in this box to have the man worked up in such a state as this?
“My darling Genius.” With his face now cradled in Veritas’s hands, Screwllum blessedly, finally, stops. Veritas sighs and brings the man a little closer, mindful of the box in his hands. While not normally very affectionate, he does find himself pressing little kisses to Screwllum’s cheek in hopes that it will ease Screwllum’s nerves. “I do not need an explanation or reason. I just would like to know what is in this very bright box that you have. Be at ease, let your cores cool.”
Screwllum nods, one hand rising from the box to gently rest on Veritas’s waist. It is quiet for a few moments, save for the small mews of Little Screw and Dignitas as they clean Ru, no longer interested in what their caretakers are doing.
“Thank you, my dear. Forgive my…outburst.” He shakes his head, lifting one hand from Screwllum’s face to wave in the air.
“Nonsense. There is no need for that. Not between you and me. It is okay for you to work through those lines of code, though I do wish you would not put yourself in such a state often.” He replaces his hand back on Screwllum’s face, running his thumb under the outer circle of Screwllum’s lens housing. “Now, stop distracting me and tell me what you have. And remember…no gifts.”
Screwllum laughs softly, stepping away and gesturing with his hand. “For you. Please open.”
“Screwllum.”
“Confirmation: I promise it is not a gift.” From the corner of the room, Little Screw sneezes. “And it is not a rubber duck.”
He raises an eyebrow, but nevertheless, he opens the box. His brow furrows as he takes in the contents, confusion no doubt evident. “Screwllum, are these…craft supplies?”
“Answer: Yes. The headteacher at the daycare generously supplied me with the supplies.” He sifts through the box, narrowing his eyes when he sees that there is already glitter stuck to his hands. “It was…I thought…”
Screwllum pauses and Veritas catches out of the corner of his eye how he brings his hands together to wring one over the other. He says nothing, just continues to look at the supplies.
“Request: I would like to make holiday crafts with you and the children.” His head snaps up and in his slight state of shock, he almost drops the box.
“E-excuse me?”
“The headteacher of the daycare explained the concept to me, and while I understand that it is childish…it is something I would like to take part in. We inorganic beings of mechanical build do not have the option of childhood, of being young. Our designation as ‘adults’ begins at that first startup, causing us to not have the early years that organic beings have. You have also said that your childhood was spent in libraries and debate halls. Thus, I thought that perhaps we could do this small, childish thing together. And include our children as well.”
“Oh…” He looks back down at the box, at the plethora of crafting supplies. It’s only then that he catches something that he had missed before.
The layout of the room has been changed. The large work desk that had once been in the middle of the room has been collapsed and moved to the side and instead, the coffee table from the living room has been brought in.
“Ah, yes. I was originally planning on bringing this matter to your attention in the living room, but the lighting in this room is roughly two times better than that space. You have been using your glasses forty percent more this month than last month, which was a large contributing point to my decision.” As much as he loves Screwllum and loves how that brain of his works, he does sometimes wish Screwllum didn’t feel the need to explain himself so often. It is not that he minds the logic, it only deepens his understanding of his partner, but he often feels like Screwllum does it because he thinks Veritas won’t like the choices he has made. However, that is a matter for another time, he thinks as he moves toward the low table, setting the box where he can tell space has been made for it.
“A wise choice.” He takes a seat on the floor, noting that the blanket he is sitting on is new. “The blanket was a smart idea as well, though I do not recall buying this.”
“That is because I did. It was on sale at the store that I went to for the box and wrapping paper.” Screwllum takes the seat across from him, before standing again. He shuffles to the left to make room for his partner, who presses his face into his hair as he takes his place beside him. Within seconds, the critter cakes come bouncing over, though Dignitas is much slower due to Ru being on his shell.
As the critters work on getting onto the table, something neither man prevents, he and Screwllum begin to empty the contents of the box onto the table. It doesn’t take long for them to place everything together, sorting out the supplies like glue from the items needed for different crafts.
It also doesn’t take long for Little Screw to get a little too nosy and knock the small bottle of glitter all over the table, the loose lid rolling away from the scene of the crime.
△
“Not too shabby, Mr. Screwllum.” Screwllum hums, a worried little note.
“Question: Are you certain? The popsicle stick third from the top appears to be at an angle. Let me—” He quickly leans forward to kiss Screwllum’s cheek, stopping the man in his tracks.
“It’s a homemade craft, Screwllum. It doesn’t have to be perfect. If we wanted perfect crafts, then we would have gone to the store for them. It’s okay for things like this, these small little inconsequential parts of life, to not be perfect.” Screwllum nods, though it doesn’t stop him from poking at the stick with his finger. Veritas takes the matter into his own hands and takes the popsicle stick fir tree from in front of him, placing it on top of Little Screw’s shell. The critter had cried and cried after the first craft had been made—a simple paper snowflake—until Screwllum had put it on the critter. Little Screw had quieted instantly, until the next craft was made—a felt snowman with very creepy googly eyes—and then cried and cried until it was placed on him.
Now, Little Screw was covered in their crafts, happily snoring away as Veritas placed the last craft of the evening on him.
“And…that is the last of them. Did we do everything that you took pictures of?” Screwllum nods, looking at his phone.
“Confirmation: Yes, I do believe we did.” Veritas nods, placing the now very tightly sealed jars of glitter and glue back into the box. “...”
“Is something the matter?” With gentle hands, he begins to take a scrap of paper from Ru, but stops when the critter looks at him with big green eyes.
“...Question: Where do these go?”
“Pardon?” He turns his head to look at Screwllum, who now has a hand on his chin as he looks at his phone.
“The crafts. We have made them, now where do they go? If you were to give one to someone, where does one put it?”
“Oh, well, that depends on the person and what holiday they celebrate this time of the year. Some people will put it on a fir tree, some will hang the crafts in their windows or in their kitchen. I’ve seen plenty of these things in the offices of fellow Guild members. Truly, they can go anywhere you want them. Did you…want to hang them up?”
“I do…not know. I am afraid I did not think that far ahead, unfortunately.” He lets out a small laugh, resting his head in his hand, elbow on the edge of the table.
“Oh? You not thinking three steps ahead is quite interesting, Mr. Screwllum. Luckily, you have me to think like that for you. How about tomorrow morning, we go into town and pick up a cat tree for the critters? I’ve been eyeing this one in the local pet store because it has a low perch for Ru. Then, we take it back home—to Planet Screwllum—set it up in our bedroom and decorate it. Given their fondness for the crafts, I do not believe they will attempt to eat them.” Screwllum doesn’t respond for a few moments, looking at Little Screw covered in their handmade crafts.
“I would…like that. And perhaps…next year, we may do this all over again?”
Ah, so that is the real motivation here.
Traditions.
Something Screwllum keeps hinting at. Something he wants to make with Veritas.
“I think perhaps we may. However, next year? No glitter, Mr. Screwllum. I fear I may need another bath.”
“I do believe you are right. I fear there may be glitter in my joints.” Veritas laughs at the notice, which gets him a happy little hum from Screwllum. The man tilts his head after a moment, reaching into the pocket of his lounge robe. “And, if I may, I also have—”
“Screwllum, I swear to Nous if you take out a duck—”
“—Salon Tuesday’s newest apple blossom bath soak. I received Salon Tuesday's newest apple blossom bath soak this morning, but I did not have time to put it in the bathroom before your arrival.” He sighs, glaring lightly at his partner, as he takes the small package.
And then promptly groans.
For under the package are two small rubber ducks, one holding an apple and one with butterfly wings.
“No more ducks, Screwllum!” The aristocrat’s laugh follows him out of the room, as Screwllum rises quickly to match his fast pace down the hall. Together, sighing and laughing, they stumble into the bathroom, holding onto each other against the counter as the bathtub fills.
□
(Veritas does not need to know, Screwllum thinks as he watches Veritas mix the homemade bath soak into the warm water of the bath.
He will need to make sure that the recipe is given to Salon Tuesday as soon as he knows Veritas’s opinion of it, so his little gift can never be found out.)