A/N: I don't really know where this came from, but I figured it was Christmas-y enough to put up.
I don't own Durarara!
Said woman grit her teeth, spinning around in her chair to face the direction of her boss's voice.
"What is it?"
"Come! This is an important mission that must be given face to face." She heard happy giggling despite the so-called importance of whatever ridiculous mission he was about to give her, and letting out a sigh, acquiesced.
Izaya's back was turned to her when she came down the stairs and approached him, and she could see he was… was… writing a letter? With a few more flourishes of the pen (Namie was starting to feel a little suspicious about this whole thing – since when did Orihara Izaya write letters, anyway?), he spun around with an extreme look of seriousness on his boyish face.
"This is a very important letter I'm entrusting to you, Namie."
"…You look like you're constipated, so it must be."
He waved her off with a slim hand, "Two weeks with your pay cut in half should be enough punishment for your insubordination." She clenched her teeth as he continued on, unfettered.
"As I was saying, this letter is extremely important. More important than your own life, I'd say," He mused, (ignoring that she was now clenching her fists in addition to her teeth) folding the letter and grabbing an envelope before sticking it in and licking the seal.
"I'll need you to mail this for me."
"And what exactly is it I'm mailing?"
Neatly closing the envelope and making sure the seal was perfectly closed, he lay it in front of him and folded his hands in a business-like manner. "Namie, it's a letter. Letters get mailed." He said it gently, as if she was a slow 3 year old child who didn't know what the hell a piece of paper inside an envelope was.
"But not just any letter, oh, no…" He grabbed the pen once more, scribbling something on the front where the address would go, and then held it out for her to take.
Rolling her eyes, she grabbed it from him, scanning the front-
-and that was as far as she got before she looked at him with her mouth hanging open.
"Namie, you'll catch flies if you don't close your mouth."
Don't tell me that… he still… "This is a … letter to Santa Claus."
He nodded, as if she'd just fully realized the gravity of the situation. "Which is why it must be handled with the utmost care. Utmost. Care." He spun around once more, "I want to get it sent out before it's too late. I hear the roads up there are absolutely terrible around this time."
She blinked. "You know that Santa Claus isn't-"
"Isn't what? Don't tell me he's… not… taking letters anymore?"
The look that had materialized on Izaya's face was one she had never seen before. His brows were furrowed in apprehension, his eyes were wide with terror, and- … was that his bottom lip beginning to wobble? Namie turned this situation over in her head.
Orihara Izaya, the feared 23 year old informant of Ikebukuro still believed in Santa Claus. She could do one of two things about this, she figured.
One: Namie could rip out his heart and stomp it on the ground until it was mush, and revel in the joy that was brought to her when she told Izaya that Santa Claus wasn't real, never would be, and never was. However, he was still her boss, and she was sure that after he recovered from heartbreak that he'd be sure to make her life more of a living hell than it already was.
Two: She could always just go along with it to avoid creating more problems for herself, and hold the secret that Izaya believed in Santa for her own amusement.
She decided to go with two. Namie could always rain on his parade on a later date, when he had pissed her off more than he usually did. Hey, maybe she'd even get her normal pay back…
"Santa isn't… ever going to reject letters from… good little boys," She felt herself choke at those words, knowing that her boss was anything but a good little boy, "no matter how treacherous the roads may be." She secretly congratulated herself on the nice save.
He let out a breath of relief, even going as far as to wipe away imaginary sweat from his brow.
"You scared me, Namie! However, I'm glad to know that you know Santa's real, too." He stared at the ceiling, finger poised on his lips. "He'll probably just get you coal, though."
She resisted the urge to crumple the letter she held in her hand. Be strong, Namie!
"…Whatever. I'm going now." She turned to grab her coat from the loft when he yelled at her to wait with trepidation laced throughout his voice.
"Take this with you." He brought out his flickblade, holding it out with what Namie had deemed the 'constipated-serious' look on his face.
"Why would I need your flickblade, again?"
He actually looked left and right and out the window before turning to her, cupping a hand around his mouth.
"There might be renegade elves – you know, elves that want to thwart Santa's plan for magical Christmases. They haven't succeeded so far, but… today could be the day, Namie." He stated rather gravely.
Blankly staring at him, she decided for the umpteenth time that her boss was an idiot and grabbed the blade from him. She grabbed her coat and walked out the door, rolling her eyes at the fact that he had the gall to draw candy canes on the front of the envelope.
"Good luck! Remember – renegade elves!" The last part was a hushed, whispery yell.
Silence reigned throughout his office after the door slammed shut, and Orihara Izaya spun around again in his chair, turning on his computer.
Now sure that she was out of hearing range by now, he let out a series of maniacal giggles. She actually believed that he, Orihara Izaya, believed in Santa Claus. Really, he thought, I'm twenty three years old! He honestly couldn't get over the fact she'd bought it, though. That tidbit was amusing enough to last him - oh, a couple more hours before he was bored again. Maybe he'd go bother Shizu-chan once the novelty wore off…
For such a smart woman, Namie could really be an idiot sometimes.
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the silliness. Let me know if anyone liked this. ;)!