FicWad

Every year, the Renegades' senior staff threw themselves a Celsiyule party, and this one was no exception. But this year, in the planning, something had gone a bit awry.

"You really think this'll work?" Charles asked Hiroshi as they finished the setup.

"Well, I'm certain we can get them to stand underneath it," Hiro replied, "What they do once they realize where they are...well, that's another matter entirely. I know better than to try and predict Lord Yuan."

"Fair enough," Charles agreed, "...You realize that, if they don't find this amusing, the consequences could be...unpleasant?"

"Oh, stop being such a worrywart, Chuck!" Rebecca cried, "It'll be fine. Lord Botta wouldn't let Lord Yuan do anything too awful to us." She smirked, "And somehow, I think it'll turn out all right."

"Don't call me 'Chuck'," Charles muttered futilely, "I hate that nickname."

"Okay, so here's the plan one more time," Lyon broke in, "Charles, you meet up with Lord Yuan outside, and talk to him about something, and as you talk, walk him over to where we want him. Once you leave, he'll stay put, he always just stands and watches anyway. 'Becca, once Charles is gone, you accost Lord Yuan and give him a plate of cookies. He'll try to refuse, but you're good at not taking 'no' for an answer. Lord Botta has said he'll be coming in a little late, so this should all be in place before he arrives. We all know that he usually heads over to the refreshment table before going to talk to anyone; the plate of cookies should bring him to where we want him. Any questions?"

"Do we have plans for surviving once Lord Yuan realizes what happened?" Charles asked dryly.

Everyone ignored him.

---

Yuan made his way down the hall to the party room. It was hardly his favorite event, but he knew that the staff liked having him there, and there were worse ways to spend an evening.

As he drew near, Charles came up to him. "Ah, Lord Yuan!" he said, "I wanted to discuss some issues with those weapon systems you wanted to try putting on the Rheiards."

"What are they?" Yuan asked, vaguely amused by Charles' inability to stop working on an interesting problem.

"Well, first of all, the weapons themselves," Charles said, then explained as they continued walking, "The materials they use normally are too heavy. We need something lighter but still strong enough to withstand the pressures placed on it. Otherwise, the Rheiards won't be able to fly."

"I'll see what I can find for you, then," Yuan nodded, "What else?"

"Besides the weapons themselves, there's the matter of power source," Charles continued, "The Rheiards' engines don't produce enough power to work the weapons and still fly, and conventional power sources are heavy. It's going to take some interesting engineering work to figure that out. And even if we get them flying, we need to test if they'll work properly at altitude."

"Will it be worth the effort, do you think?" Yuan asked, "Or should we give up on this idea?"

"It's hard to say for certain just yet," Charles replied, "I'd like a chance to try, at the very least."

"I'll make sure you're properly supplied, then," Yuan told him.

Charles nodded, "Thank you, sir. We'll do our best to make it work." With that, he gave a casual salute and wandered off to go mingle with the other partygoers. Yuan watched him go for a moment, then looked around the room, watching as the party moved into full swing.

"Lord Yuan!" Rebecca cried enthusiastically, dashing toward him with a grin. She proffered a plate of cookies. "I've got a new recipe!" she exclaimed, "Will you try some?"

"...Why?" Yuan asked perplexedly, "I've said before that my sense of taste is almost nonexistent."

"Oh, just have a few," Rebecca insisted, "Trust me, they're worth it." She shoved the plate into his hands and began to move away.

Yuan accepted the plate and watched her go with an air of resignation, deciding that it was a battle not worth fighting. He stood there for a few minutes longer, holding the cookies a bit awkwardly as he watched the people around him chatting cheerily. He hoped Botta would arrive soon, so that he'd have someone to talk to; his Second was finishing up a few more reports on the spies they'd infiltrated into the Church lately. This was the best time of year to do that, after all, with the people in a religious frenzy and the Church busy setting up celebrations. Yuan had often said that Botta should have someone else do that kind of work, but Botta insisted on doing it personally. Which was admirable, really, but sometimes inconvenient.

Ah, but there Botta was now. Yuan watched in amusement as Botta entered the room, his eyes traveling first to the dessert table, then checking where Yuan was. With a smirk, Yuan waved the plate of cookies at him, and Botta grinned lopsidedly as he made his way over.

"How thoughtful of you," he remarked as he came to stand beside his friend.

"Then I wish I could take credit," Yuan responded, "Rebecca foisted them off on me; apparently they're her new recipe."

Botta took one. "That makes sense, then," he agreed, "She can be rather overenthusiastic." He took a bite, "They're good."

"I'll be sure to let her know you said so," Yuan replied dryly, "Tell me, do the senior staff seem to you to be taking an inordinate amount of interest in our conversation?"

Botta glanced at the gathering crowd, who were doing a very poor job of feigning disinterest. "Yes, I think you're right," he agreed bemusedly.

"Okay, you lot, what's going on?" Yuan asked them in mock annoyance.

Several of them were stifling giggles as Rebecca pointed to the ceiling above their heads. They looked up, and both blushed bright red as they saw the sprig of mistletoe hanging there.

Yuan began to splutter. "I-I didn't see it!" he cried, "I wouldn't-"

"You have to kiss," Rebecca giggled.

"It's tradition!" Joe added cheerfully.

"We're Renegades!" Yuan cried, a bit petulantly, "Screw tradition!" He glared around at the grinning faces of his staff, "You planned this out, didn't you? As soon as I find out who was in on it...Rebecca and Charles for certain, I know that. Charles, I thought better of you! And-" he was cut off by a tap on the shoulder.

"Yuan?" Botta said, his tone surprisingly calm.

"What?" Yuan asked, turning to face him.

Before Yuan had the chance to respond further, Botta leaned in and kissed him firmly. Yuan froze in surprise briefly, then responded willingly. The kiss lasted only a moment, and they pulled away.

"...Botta?" Yuan asked, his eyes wide and questioning, just a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Botta shrugged. "Tradition," he said simply, but the glint in his eyes said more.

There was a slight commotion from the spectators, and both of them seemed to remember that they weren't alone. Yuan quickly regained his composure, and glared at them again. "All right," he said irritably, "Show's over. Nothing more to see here, go away." He stalked off to brood in a less-populated corner of the room.

Botta let him go with a faint smile, knowing that after such a public display, Yuan would need his space. It didn't matter right now; he had his answer.