"This is like tax-time," Raphael said morosely.
Mikael looked at him warily. "Um, how?"
"If we were accountants," Raphael clarified. "Except if we were accountants, I would just cook the books and never do this again. And the Metatron's calculator would match his skirt, and Gabriel would be three million times worse."
"Stop putting those images in my head," Mikael said irritably. "Whining about it isn't going to get those prayers answered any faster."
"I should be exempt. I'm old. I'm in charge of stuff. Don't I get compensation?"
"Everybody has to do it. Even the Metatron," Mikael said, pouring another cup of tea. He wasn't in the mood to be sympathetic, especially since he had just answered three prayers himself while Raphael was complaining.
"Okay, okay," Raphael sighed, before turning a leering eye on him. "You know, I might be more motivated if I had some compensation to look forward to after we're done tonight."
Mikael refused to blush. "If that's what you want, then you already got it earlier. But only because you're a dirty cheat and tied mistletoe to my halo when I wasn't looking."
Raphael grinned. "Better than a 'kick me' sign."
"Says you," Mikael retorted, shifting a little bit in his seat.
"Oooh, I think the chestnuts are done -- would you mind getting them?"
"Sorry, I'm a little busy at the moment," Mikael said, which was true. Also, he could see that sprig of mistletoe almost perfectly hidden over the oven.
Mikael let himself be coaxed into sitting on the futon Raphael had dragged in front of the fireplace, along with an abundance of pillows. He brought with him hot chocolate, and Raphael accepted a cup with a display of gratitude verging on vaguely inappropriate.
"What?" Raphael asked. "I'm not doing anything."
"We're working," Mikael said, a trifle scandalized.
"We're in the privacy of our own home. Nobody's going to know that I'm feeling up your thigh. Or that you're not wearing pants."
"It's a nightshirt," Mikael said defensively. "It's a perfectly acceptable sleepwear garment."
"It's better than acceptable -- I don't even have to take it off to-"
"Raphael, will you.... oh, now just wait a moment. I don't even think what that man asked for was moral."
Raphael let his hand slip a little higher. "Do tell."
"No, and quit that."
"You're the one wrapped all around me."
"But you're so warm," Mikael said, loathe to surrender his own personal animated heating blanket on account of having been a little snippy, especially when he really hadn't meant it -- this season, unfortunately, brought out the short-temperedness in everyone.
Raphael gave him the soft, knee-melting smile he always did when Mikael admitted to needing him for anything, no matter how small.
After a moment, Mikael said, "Why don't people ask for clockwork trains anymore?"
"Because it's not 1930, Mikael."
"You can really move you hand any time now."
"This kid just asked for peace on earth and goodwill toward men," Raphael said.
"Really?" Mikael asked, his head pillowed on Raphael's chest.
"He didn't mean it, though. He really wants a 360."
"Oh," Mikael said. He thought about it for a minute. "Well, that's much easier."
"Are you falling asleep?"
"No," Mikael said, but he was guessing that Raphael wasn't buying it, especially since he yawned while saying it.
"I'll make some coffee," Raphael said.
"You'll be wired," Mikael warned.
"But we'll be awake. We just have to make it until midnight. Only two hours left."
Mikael stretched a bit. "Is it always like this?"
Raphael busied himself with the coffee pot. "Nah. Usually I'm lonely and miserable. This time around, I'm just wishing it were over already, so I can answer my own prayer."
"Which is?"
Raphael just smiled. "You'll see."
"Are you sure you should give her a pony?"
"But she really, really wants one," Raphael said.
"And you don't think her parents will be suspicious when they wake up and find a pony in the front yard?" Mikael asked incredulously.
"...oh."
"This is what happens when you answers prayers while you're hyped up on caffeine. Caffeine that you then spiked, which totally defeats the purpose," Mikael said.
"I spiked yours too," Raphael said smugly.
"You did not."
"This coming from the man who said, 'This tastes funny,' and then drank it anyway."
"As if I should have to be suspicious of you," Mikael said, sniffing disdainfully.
It was only after Raphael gave him a long, adoring, sloppy kiss that Mikael realized what he'd blurted out, which only strengthened his resolve to avoid the combination of Raphael and alcohol.
"Ten more minutes," Mikael said, with the grim determination of an endurance runner on the last lap.
"We can do it," Raphael replied, although he didn't sound altogether certain.
They were silent, breathing steadily while working their way through the last wishes.
"Ah," Raphael said, his voice tinged with regret. "I hate it when they ask for something I can't give them."
"Hmm?" Mikael murmured, distracted.
"I can give them gold rings or a wedding dress that fits like a dream, but I can't give them love."
"Have you ever tried?"
"Doesn't work. Not unless the object of their affections is praying for it, too."
Mikael was silent for a moment, and remembered his own prayers from not too long ago. He had never thought to mention it, but it seemed right to do so, now. "You know, before...before I came here, one time I asked..."
Raphael suddenly squeezed him tight. "I know," Raphael said fiercely. "I heard."
Mikael ducked his head, feeling his face turn red. He'd never really stopped to think about who listened his prayers before he started answering them himself.
"And...done," Raphael said, breathing a noisy sigh of relief.
"I don't think I can move," Mikael said.
"So don't," Raphael said. "We'll sleep here. It's a special day, after all."
"Wait, what did you pray for?" Mikael asked, fighting to stay awake. "I didn't hear."
"A pony," Raphael said, deadpan.
"No, really," Mikael murmured, almost asleep.
"Don't worry," Raphael whispered, tucking the blankets around them and holding Mikael close, his lips nearly touching Mikael's ear. "I've already got it."