I groaned, stretched my arms above my head, my grey t-shirt straining over my chest; I was a dressed sleeper. The light outside sifted through my window, and as I opened my heavy curtains, I saw thick, heavy flakes of snow were falling over the neighbourhood, everything covered beneath a thick layer of white. I smiled. Then, I realised what had woken me; someone was knocking on my door.

I walked groggily and opened.

And outside stood Hashirama Senju, so neatly dressed it was as if he had stepped right out of a movie. His caramel coloured coat looked fantastic with his chestnut hair. He was a bit rosy on his cheeks; maybe, he'd already had a run.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty", he said warmly with a smile.

"What time is it?" I asked, still a bit sleepy.

"Noon. I figured you'd sleep late. You left my place at three am."

Suddenly, I was wide awake.

"It's Christmas Day!"

Hashirama smiled, opened his arms and I stepped into them, hugging him close.

"So we're doing it together?" he asked, voice muffled as he had buried his face into my short hair.

"Mmm", I said happily.

"You wanna go for coffee and breakfast?" he asked. His voice was thick with emotion that I noticed he tried to hide.

"Mmm", I said again, still hugging him.

We didn't let go for a long time.

There was actually several cafes open despite the it being Christmas Day. We chose a small, cosy one that was almost empty of people, buying several pastries to share and a coffee each. Hashirama looked amazing in a grey jeans shirt and black trousers. I had a simple, white T-shirt with a pair of complicated black cargo trousers with loads of straps. With his neat, long and gleaming hair and my choppy K-pop mess that I'd had before we left, we looked like quite the pair.

And we talked.

We talked a lot.

I told him about the Lindy hop classes I'd been taking, how I was going in a few days and hoped to continue next year. He told me he'd read up on ballroom culture and wanted to explore that part of the world. I asked him to please come dance with me. He asked me to please come vogue with him.

"Madara..." he suddenly said, taking my hands. I looked down on our fingers, who seemingly acted on their own accord, entwining together, knowing exactly how to behave as they were controlled by our hearts and not by our minds. It was our first display of true affection in public and I realised I didn't care who saw, if newspapers would find us and take a picture. Hashirama had proven who he truly was. If anyone in my party still believed he hadn't changed, how could they speak for the integration of immigrants?

"Mmm?" I said.

"I know I've left politics, but I want you to know I don't expect you to."

I looked at him. "I have thought about it", I said. "I don't like how my party members have treated me. Ever since they saw us talking in the club, they haven't behaved the same. But I don't need their approval. I have new friends from dancing. I have the residents of the home." I looked away a little. "I have you." Warmth radiated from him as I said those words. I could feel it in my hands, still held by his. "I'm not in politics for the party members. I'm in politics for those who should be in politics to speak for themselves but can't. They need a voice." I looked at Hashirama again. "I will remain in my party. For how long, I don't know. Maybe, I'll give in after the elections if four more years in parliament doesn't feel right. Maybe I'll stay until after I've retired from my main job, whatever that is when I'm old and grey. But I will remain for now, at least."

Hashirama smiled. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you for what you did in parliament", I said. We hadn't really talked about it. "It changed a lot. The right were going to win government, but since then, it's not at all certain."

"It's not only me, you know?" he said. "Madara, you're an exceptional politician."

"Oh, you!" I said flamboyantly, making him laugh. "Stawph!" His laugh was like strong silver bells.

We kept talking politics for a while longer, finishing our heavenly sweet Christmas breakfasts.

"What do you want to do for the rest of Christmas Day?" he asked me. 

I thought for a while. "I know we said we'll have a normal day together. I want that. I want to buy Thai or Indian food, go to my place and play Portal on the computer."

"What's Portal?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh, you'll hate it because you need to be smart to figure it out."

"Fuck you", he said.

"Deal", I said.

"Okay, for three hours, and then?"

I thought for a while. "I'd like to do something Christmassy, too. Now we're together, I feel like I don't need to ignore that aspect of the day."

"Like what?" Hashirama asked.

"I don't know", I said, suddenly embarrassed.

We were quiet for a while.

"Madara..."

"Mmm?"

"Madara, look at me."

I did, and he had the most mischievous smile on his face I'd ever seen. "Let's go buy a Christmas tree."

I gaped a little. "What?"

"I don't have one. The ones left will probably be brown and withering and sad, and no place selling baubles will be open, but it will be our tree and we will love it all the same."

And then, I felt a warm tingling in my heart, starting out as a point that crackled and fizzed, spread out into all of the chambers of my heart and then out to the rest of my body.

"Yeah..." I said.

And we stood up and ran out.

We went to a corner in the park where they still sold Christmas trees and chose the saddest, brownest tree there was, as if we were at an animal shelter choosing the ugliest cat to take home because no one else would want to adopt it. We bought Thai food and fifty fortune cookies, attracting curious stares from the chefs, but we would use them as baubles  as no place that sold Christmas tree baubles was open and their metallic red wrapping would, we tried to convince ourselves, at least look good from afar. We walked in the snow, threw snowballs on each other which was a challenge while carrying I was carrying the tree, and laughed. Then, Hashirama took my hand, and for the first time we walked hand-in-hand like a couple, our minds somewhere completely else than on politics.

"Do you want to have a practice session in rhetorics?" Hashirama asked, smirking.

I grabbed his waist, pulled him to me, put my lips dangerously close to his.

"Yes."

We kissed.

We kissed for a long time. 

And unbeknown to us, in a window of the hospital we happened to walk past, someone was looking down on us, smiling.

"What do you see, my darling?"

The woman who had looked down on us turned to look into her hospital room, where her eighty-five-year-old girlfriend was sitting in a chair, knitting. It was the girlfriend who had posed the question.

"It's Madara-jan", she said. "Did you know I have tricked him I have new girlfriends all the time? He thinks I'm joking. That I haven't had a single one. He doesn't know that you and me have been a couple since the day I told him I'm a lesbian."

The knitting girlfriend smiled warmly. "Halima, you evil star."

"You're just jealous because you because you burn in the sun instead of tanning like me."

The knitting girlfriend snorted.

And below the elderly couple, one of them being miss Asghar, me and Hashirama Senju walked hand in hand, talking, joking, stopping from time to time to kiss, going home to celebrate our first Christmas Day together, to play games, eat takeaway food and decorate our sad rescue tree.

And to practice rhetorics.