On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...(the gay! the gay!)
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Someone was making noise, and lots of it. Ergo, someone was going to die.

Shadow peered out from the nest of pillows and blankets, and tried to figure the logistics of hitting something he couldn't actually see with a shuriken, while hung over. Then he remembered that his throwing stars were still in his sash, which was probably near his pants, and he really wasn't sure where his pants had ended up. So he shifted the pillow on top of his head slightly and tried to figure how long his reach was and if he could strangle something without seeing it while hung over.

"I know you're awake under there- Goddesses, you're like some sort of rodent, as soon as the weather gets cold you start to hibernate. You're not even prone to hypothermia, so you have no excuse. I should be the one still in bed, ordering you to go muck about with the engines, but I'm sure that if I did that, you'd make the whole ship explode. You're worse than Cyan, you are. I mean, the kitchen hasn't blown up so spectacularly since that one time I let Daryl cook with brandy, and you weren't even drinking, so I don't know how you set the ceiling on fire, now get out of bed before I start singing. Because then I'll start coughing up blood again and it'll be all your fault and you'll be stoic and feel guilty and it'll just be a largely unpleasant experience for everyone involved- and since you'll be so guilty and worried you'll manage to get everyone involved, including Umaro- although that was really quite impressive on your part, I had no idea you were so charismatic since you're usually such a bastard. Now get up, damn it! Get up and put on layers like the rest of us, you lazy ass. A nice ass, but a lazy one. I swear-"

Shadow burrowed deeper beneath the covers, trying desperately to block out the other man's constant stream of babble. It wasn't fair. He knew for a fact that Setzer had had at least as much to drink as he had, and the other man was too thin and malnourished to hold his alcohol properly anymore.

He was still talking. Setzer was worse than a fishwife. Shadow felt himself to be the authority on this, having been married to a fishwife. Almost a fishwife, anyway. She'd probably beat him with a frying pan for calling her a fishwife, or blast him with a nuke, but she was dead so the most she could do was glare and make him feel guilty. Strago might beat him with a frying pan, and Relm might try to paint his picture, but as long as he stayed away from Thamasa he would probably be safe. But given the tendency of his old battle companions to show up when they were least expected- or welcomed- not even that was a sure thing anymore. Shadow scowled. Damnit. He was starting to think the way Setzer spoke. It was too early in the morning to deal with the gambler in 'fishwife' mode.

His train of thought cut off abruptly as Setzer began tossing pillows to the floor, still talking. The assassin squinted at the sudden rush of bright light and tried to scowl ferociously. Normally he was quite good at it, but the expression was difficult to maintain when suffering from severe bedhead and confronted with a Setzer who had finally shut up.

The gambler was just looking at him, a half smile on his face. Shadow stared back, still slightly disoriented and more than a little hung over, but pleased at the quiet.

"Today's the first day of Yule, you know." Yes, Setzer was definitely more appealing when he limited himself to one or two thoughts per sentence and wasn't cackling like Kefka. Shadow filed that fact away to mention when he wasn't otherwise occupied with memorizing they way Setzer looked without the bags under his eyes.

Moments of peace like this were few and far between.

Setzer grinned suddenly, his expression going from wistful to demonic. "Look! Mistletoe! Lay one on me, baby!" The gambler closed his eyes and puckered his lips comically, holding a tiny sprig of greenery above the assassin's head.

In retrospect (after he regained consciousness), Setzer really should have been more specific about the words "Lay one on me." Shadow still felt the need to apologize profusely, however, and allowed himself to be guilted into attending the Figaro Yule party.

Only Relm dared to comment, saying that the bruises made Setzer's face look particularly festive; after all, he was normally so pale.
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On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...a black eye. D'oi.

(Shadow:*sweatdrop* True love? Who said anything about true love? This is Setzer we're talking about- clearly you meant "to bluff" as he's a card cheat who welches on his debts-
Setzer: Really, now you're just being immature. In a minute we'll have Relm going after you with a paintbrush saying "You killed my father, prepare to die!" and then you'll have to pull off the mask and visor and go "Relm, I am your father," and then you'll cut off her hand and it'll all just be one big, stupid mess because who would that make me, Emperor Palpatine? That just throws a whole new light on Vader and Palpatine's relationship, and we really just don't want to go there, do we? Even if Interceptor does make an excellent Chewbacca and Strago would work so well as Obi-Wan, and Celes could be Princess Leia, only that would make her Relm's sister, and she's a little bit old for that. Unless, of course, there's something else you want to tell me...
Shadow: Stop, please stop, before I am forced to kill you.
Setzer: Well, you're the one who brought up The Princess Bride.
Shadow: Only because you're obviously the human incarnation of Humperdink's pain machine.
Setzer: Low blow, man, low blow.)

*sweatdrop* Wow. That was...*scratches head* It makes me very sad that these things are really only funny to me, because I find them so hilarious it's almost sad. I am sorry for bringing Star Wars into this, it was completely unintentional. But- they bicker. Constantly.

Oh, Setzer, why are you such a fucking bipolar queen!? I swear, he's got a bet going with Jack Sparrow to see which of them can possibly act more blatantly flaming. They get into arguments over who's the better pirate and then sit around drinking rum while Shadow and Will stand off on the sidelines and sulk.

Not that I condone Jack/Will slash. That's just wrong, even if Will is a eunich. (I used to date a eunich...) But someone has to play the straight-man to his antics, and Will does that fairly well. (Better Will than Mr Gibbs, you know?) Anyway.

You'll have to excuse Shadow, he's a little slow when hung over, and possibly delirious. ('Cuz that's the only way he'd be acting that mellow, even several years post-fic.)

The exploding kitchen was actually Setzer's fault, btw. But try telling him that. *rolls eyes*

Well hey, happy Christmas/Yule/what-have-you from the voices in my head. Oh, and from me, too.

(Run-on sentences are stylistic, I swear! *sweatdrop*)