Panty had taken her time with her dress. It was one of her old favourites that she'd kept around for a movie premeire, and she hadn't hesitated in picking it out. Time had been kind to it - the magenta fabric, dashed with cream like something that would incriminate a president, hadn't faded in the least.
Putting it on, however, had lead to some embarrasing revelations. Firstly, that she'd forgotten the white corsage she usually wore with it - but she could make do without it. Secondly, the lower half of the dress, which had once hung from her body like a silken ziggurat, now clung to her hips and rear in a way that, while appealing, had not been a thing when she'd worn it last. The dress might have remained the same size, but Panty definitely hadn't.
She blamed Kouta's cooking. He never did tell her the secret incredient in the Secret Ingredient Noodle Soup.
But she liked to fantasize~.
Now, she was adding the finishing touches to her makeup in the bathroom mirror. And doing it as quickly as she could. Not simply because she knew how to do it quickly, but because she didn't want to be in the bathroom any longer than she could help. It wasn't making any better of an impression than the room itself did. Cracked tiles, a patch of damp in one corner and a dripping tap gave an air of melancholy that only served to lower her mood even more.
Not in the least because she kept thinking about what Garterbelt had said.
All that stuff about her past, and how hanging out with Kouta had mellowed her out. Even if that was all technically true, what business was it of his? Didn't he have enough on his plate, between being a Ghost of Fuckmas Past and preaching his bullshit gospel to impressionable and vulnerable young boys? And that weird question he'd asked before vanishing - "where do you think you are right now?" What the fuck was that, even? Some kind of bullshit Zen riddle, where the answer also didn't make any sense?
The lights flickered again. Panty sighed and put the eye shadow down. God, this place was a dump. The sooner she got out of here, the better. She just hoped for two things when she got to this bullshit party - some decent dick, and hopefully to not have to talk to-
There was a noise behind her that sounded like an embarrassed cough.
The memory of what happened the last time the lights flickered flashed through Panty's mind. She looked up.
And stared at what she saw reflected in the mirror behind her.
"...you gotta be shitting me," she said.
"Oh, trust me," said Jim Dale, accompanied by the heaviest sigh possible. "I'm hardly any more pleased about this than you are."
Panty turned around very slowly, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things. Unfortunately, when she finished turning around, the old man was still there.
And he wasn't the best of things to look upon, given the costume, The word "ridiculous" was tame when it came to describing it, and Panty would have liked to throw some more adjectives on, had she the time. The green, fur-trimmed robe was clearly meant for the broad of chest and shoulder - on Jim Dale's skinny frame, it looked like a curtain had been hastily thrown over him to hide something embarrasing. And the crown of holly sat on his brow like an ugly snake had gone to sleep upon his receding hairline.
"...and how the fuck," the angel said at last, "did you get the job of Ghost of Christmas Present?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "I know, it's not exactly the glamorous narrator role I used to have. But jobs are scarce right now. And at least I'm using some of my skills - by which I mean talking - instead of sitting in some office cubicle."
Panty heaved a sigh through gritted teeth and raised her hands to her temples. Of all the bullshit...
"Look," she groaned, "I can see where this is going. And let me tell you, I'm really not wet for the limp, shrivelled cock of this dead horse. I've already had to deal with a boring-as-fuck lecture from my old douchebag landlord about my past, and I'm not down for having other people's good times used to guilt trip me. So can we please just skip this shit and let me get on with my day"
The bathroom fell silent for a moment. All that could be heard was the dripping of the tap.
And then Jim Dale nodded.
"Alright."
Panty did a double-take, caught off guard. "What, just like that? No argument?"
The old narrator shrugged again. "What's the point? I can't exactly force you to do anything."
"Great!" Panty pushed past him and stepped towards the bathroom door. "Now fuck off. I've got a party to be at. I promised I'd meet the others there and I don't want to be late, or Stocking's gonna chew me out again, and not in the fun way that most of my one-night stands do."
She missed the odd look that Jim gave her as she approached the door. Almost a sly, knowing look, as if he'd just thought of something that he knew and she didn't. And she didn't hear him speak again until her hand was already turning the doorknob.
"Well, I would," he said. "But I'm not the one who brought us here."
Panty turned her head to look at him even as she opened the door. "Brought us wh-?"
"Honestly, she's such a bitch!"
Panty jumped a foot.
"FUCKIN' WHAT?!"
She'd emerged not in a classless motel room, but into the warm and well-lit interior of a coffee shop. It looked completely out of place amongst the rest of Daten City, eschewing the chintzy plastic and neon lights for polished wood out of a Dickensian novella. Everything was smothered in plump green wreaths and garlands that turned the interior into a veritable grove, dotted with hints of red and gold in the form of baubles, tinsel and other smaller decorations. The reddish-orange glow of the overhead lights gave the impression of a great, roaring fire somewhere in the building, of the kind that no longer existed in Daten's modern world of electricity and gas.
And, right in front of her, were Kouta and Stocking, sharing an obnoxiously large chocolate dessert.
Panty wasn't sure what she was more shocked by - the fact she'd ended up here, the cavity-induging mountain on the table or the fact that nobody had batted an eye at her scream. But before she could ruminate on that, she felt somebody sidle up to her, and turned to see Jim Dale giving her the knowing look she'd missed beforehand.
"We probably shouldn't interrupt them,” he said.
Panty wanted to argue, but two strange happenings in almost as many hours was starting to get to her. So, taking Jim’s advice, she moved away from the door and turned to listen.
-------
"I mean, seriously," Stocking growled as she scooped out another small mountain of chocolate. "Ever since we got the invite, she's been acting like a five-star cunt."
Kouta shrugged, his spoonful untouched. "Yeah, I can't argue that. She has been acting a bit miserable all of today. And she seemed like she was really looking forward to Christmas, too."
"Wrrrrh, ymmmsh, bbt-"
"Please swallow, I can't understand you."
Stocking's cheeks had bulged like small balloons on each side of her face. Framed by her blue-and-pin hair, it gave her the appearance of a hamster that had gotten into alternative fashion. She blinked, then swallowed, a particularly large bulge travelling down her throat.
"What I mean is," she continued, "is that she's normally kind of a bitch around this time of year. Mostly because she keeps getting coal instead of dildos and not learning to just buy presents instead of baging off Santa. But it's like she's gone into full whiny tween mode the moment we got that invite to the Christmas Ball at Rock Foundation! All I've heard from her is how much she doesn't wanna go back to Daten and how she doesn't wanna go and... UGH! Drives me up a fucking wall!"
Kouta cocked an eyebrow. "Bad memories, do you think?"
"I have bad memories of this place, too," countered the goth. "But that's not an excuse to turn on the PMS tap full blast!"
-------
"I am NOT PMS'ing, you cunt!" snapped Panty, unable to control herself. That lolita bitch, how dare she go spouting shit like that about her behind her back! She moved forward, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"I wouldn't bother," said Jim Dale, shaking his head. "We're just shadows to them - they can't see or hear us."
Panty frowned. "...what about punching? Does that-?"
"No."
"Fuck," groaned Panty, and stepped back again.
-------
"Well, I don't know that I really blame her." Kouta popped his spoon into his mouth and gulped the pudding down. "Think about how much of a hassle Christmas usually is for normal people, with all the expense and whatnot. Then add the whole 'superhero' caveat on top - you hear stories about what the older Kobbers did on Christmas, right? And not getting the presents you want, on top of that? I think anyone would think of Christmas the same way if they were in Panty's position."
Stocking rolled her eyes. "Really? You're trying to excuse her for-"
"I'm not saying it's an excuse. Fuck knows, I was getting sick of her bullshit. But I wasn't gonna say it out loud and ruin things for us both. All I'm saying," went on Kouta as he plucked a cherry off of the dessert, "is that I can understand where she's coming from. I know my dad thinks the same way."
"No shit."
"None at all." It was Kouta's turn to roll his eyes. "He gave me the full Dickens spiel one Christmas, when I was about sixteen. 'Time for paying bills without money' and all that shit. Like he ever has to worry about bills with all the military contract money ZAIA hoovers up. Really wish three ghosts would come and haunt his ass, the selfish prick."
"Just say the word," Stocking smirked, "and I'll grab my sound effects mixtape and the nearest discount Halloween costumes."
A sly grin came over Kouta's face, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that, Stockers~"
"Consider it done, darling~"
The two shared a laugh.
"But seriously," Kouta continued as he finished off a mouthful, "I feel more sorry for Panty than anything else. What does she lose by being, like you said, a whiny tween? Aside from a few nice memories that don't do her any harm? She's hurting nobody but herself doing all this. She gets it into her head to spite us, and what's the consquence? She misses the chance to try that spiced mulled cider and some roast goose for lunch."
-------
A pang rose in Panty's chest. She fought it down.
-------
"Serves her right, the bitch," Stocking countered, taking a sip from her little china mug. "I've got no more fucking patience for her."
"I do." Kouta put his spoon down and stared meaningfully across at his gilfriend. "I mean, yes, it's aggrivating as fuck, but I'm not going to stop making the effort. It's the same with my dad - I try to make the effort for him every year, no matter how much of a bastard he can be sometimes. Let Panty call Christmas all the rude names she can think of, but she can't think it all bad if at least one person says 'Merry Christmas' to her once a year."
One of his hands snaked across the table and found Stocking's, curling around it.
"I'm sure even you would appreciate that."
There was a silence as Stocking took another sip from her mug. Her gulps were loud and deliberate, as if she were trying to draw attention to herself. The brunet boy watched, patiently awaiting her response.
The cup hit the saucer with a clink.
Then Stocking looked up, her trademark smirk on her face.
"You're such a sappy little bitch, you know that?" she purred.
Kouta shrugged, but couldn't hide his own smile. "Hey, don't judge. It was between that and the cooking that got me dating you, wasn't it?"
"Who said I was judging?" Stocking leaned over the table, pushing the half-eaten dessert aside as her grin widened. "You're my sappy little bitch now. And I'm pretty sure you could make a parfait ten times as good as what we just ate~" Kouta grinned back as he leaned forward, and their lips met somewhere in the middle, the lunch completely forgotten..
Somehow, the two managed to exchange a "Merry Christmas" between chocolate-stained kisses.
-------
"Fucking hell," muttered Panty, shaking her head. "Geek Boy really knows how to sweet talk 'em." She'd leaned against the wall as she'd watched this happen, arms folded and generally disinterested now the whole thing was over.
"Which Geek Boy?"
She looked up. Once again, Jim Dale was giving her that knowing look, with a half-smile that was proving to be irritating. Her nostrils flared in irritation - this was the second time some ghost had tried to... but no, she could see where this was going. And she wasn’t going to indulge this crusty old fuck.
"Kouta,” she snapped. A little more forcefully than she needed.
Jim Dale’s expression didn’t flicker. But something changed in his eyes, and a chill went down the blonde angel’s spine as she recognized it. It was the same intense, piercing, right-through-the-body stare Garterbelt had given her when she’d been talking to him. She suddenly felt as though she was in a bad dream, that all control and sense of reality had been ripped out from underneath her own feet.
And when Jim spoke, his voice was the same level tone Garterbelt had used.
"Miss Anarchy, where do you think you are right now?"
The same words, the very same. Panty stared at the Ghost, feeling the colour drain from her face, unable to place the name of the sensation gnawing in the bottom of her stomach. The lights were beginning to flicker again - only this time, they were growing brighter. Brighter and brighter, until it seemed as though they might burst, and the entire room, including the customers and the Ghost, were almost engulfed in searing white.
Covering her eyes, Panty turned and stumbled out the door...
-------
...and her shoes crunched in the snow.
"...the fuck?!"
These are excellent. Great work!
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