So it's that time of year again. X-MAS YAAAAYYYY EVERYONE DANCE.
Everyone here knows Finland is apparently Santa, right? Good 'cause that's what he is for this story. Obviously inspired by the song 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause.' (Except this time, Santa is the mommy…lol.)
SO EVERYONE BE JOLLY and my gift to you is a SuFin fic with Santa!Tino and SingleParent!Berwald and AdorableAsHell!Peter. (Peter as in Sealand, for those of you just joining us in the wonderful world of human names. BTW why the heck does Microsoft Word not recognize Sealand? I had to freaking add it to the dictionary. Not cool, bro.)
- BL (Hoorah for Shonen ai. Heavy fluffles.)
- Human names used.
- Sealand being so cute you want to take him hooooooome.
Enjoy, and happy holidays!
You know that big jolly man in red everyone gets excited for during the holidays? The one with hair as white as snow and a twinkle in his old eyes? That's me. Old Saint Nick, Chris Cringle, or better known throughout the world as: Santa Claus.
Over the years there have been quite a few misconceptions about me and what I do. As it is I am not the bearded fat man everyone thinks I am. That is the image they drummed up for me, not mine. If you looked at me and I told you I am lovable old Saint Nick you would probably laugh. If you asked me if I am Chris Cringle, I would tell you no. My real name is Tino, I do not live in the North Pole, and I regret to inform you that I do not have a small army of elves at my disposal. However, I do live close to the North Pole in upper Finland and I could conjure up a few elf-like creatures if I so pleased. That is one thing that is real about me: Christmas magic.
I am kind of short at five foot three. My hair is not white but rather light blonde and short. My face is clean-shaven, my belly is slim, and for the love of God: I am not old! …Looking. Although I am over 500 years old (I stopped counting around there) my body is that of how it was when I began my work at the age of twenty five.
I don't hate the image of Santa Claus, I love him. In fact I have done some things to be a little more like him just for the heck of it. I used to wear blue, but now I wear a red suit with fur lining and a matching hat as the legend goes. Trips around the world didn't involve reindeer and a sleigh until people decided they did. I even duplicate Rudolph's red nose. No bells, though. I tried that once but it gave me away too easily. I don't land on people's roofs; that would be suicide! My gifts will get to where they need to go. All I have to do is toss them after a quick touch of magic.
Probably one of the biggest differences in the Santa myth and little me is Ms. Claus. I don't have a Ms. Claus. A long time ago I thought I did, but not anymore and that lying snake has been dead for centuries. I learned my lesson when it comes to relationships with mortal humans: either don't do it or break it off before Christmas. They inevitably learn your secret and do something stupid with it. I don't like breaking hearts like that, I feel like a waste of time to those women who deserve so much more. I like giving, not taking. Not to mention in the three times I have done it I ended up with a broken heart myself.
So that's me: Little Tino the real Santa Claus. Sorry if I ruin the Christmas image for you but I guess that is how it is. I have been bringing good little boys and girls joy for the past few hundred years and I don't plan to stop even if it means being alone forever…but it is a small price to pay. I never do anything for myself, I am a giver. I would give my own life if it meant making the world a happier place to live. This is how it has been and how it will be far into the future, at least until one Christmas when I came down with a cold.
That was the Christmas that changed it all.
Berwald was woken up by the sound of a loud bump on the roof followed by a loud roaring rush. It startled him awake at nearly nine in the morning and left the question: What the heck was that? The house was cold because Peter refused to let Berwald light a fire on Christmas Eve thinking Santa wouldn't be able to get in and the floor nearly stung like ice on bare feet. Quickly Berwald threw on his slippers and grabbed his long blue coat from the closet downstairs before opening the front door and investigating.
Wind and snow blasted him in the face as he trudged outside after exchanging his slippers for tall boots. There appeared to have been an avalanche of some sort and a huge pile of frozen ice and snow was stacked on one side. Wonderful! Berwald didn't have to get on the roof and knock it all off. Well, there still was the other side…but at least that part was done. Now that the mystery was solved and daybreak wasn't for another two hours, he could go inside and start a damn fire in the fireplace to heat the house already. Perhaps he wouldn't have to be chilled to the bone while Peter ripped open his presents this year, which would probably be soon. Berwald would be ready for it this time.
The man's eyes squinted behind square glasses to see something colorful against the stark white mound of snow nearly as tall as him. It was red, it looked like…a hat? Yes, it was a red Christmas hat. He wondered where that came from. It was covered in ice and snow like it had come down in the avalanche. Was it previously on his roof?
Snow crunched under and around Berwald's boots with each heavy step. He reached the mound and picked up the hat to shake it off. Huh? The inside was warm. How could a hat buried in snow on his roof possibly be warm?
That small sound was barely heard over the wind and Berwald looked around for the source. It sounded like a person very nearby, but he didn't see anyone. It was only him and a pile of snow. A pile of snow that was moving.
Berwald nearly jumped out of his skin when a small patch of white ice started to shift and out came a black gloved hand. It wasn't moving very much, it looked slow and disoriented with what it was trying to do. There was a person buried under the snow! Were they standing here when the avalanche happened?
The hand was gripped firmly by Berwald's and he pulled on it as hard as he could. The snow was not easy to move, but after a few seconds the rest of the person broke through the surface and Berwald had to catch them. The person, a young man, had an incredibly flushed face and wore some kind of slim red Santa suit. By what could be seen in the glow of the porch light his hair was lighter than Berwald's and damp from the snow clinging to it. He was awake, but just barely.
It appeared the man was conscious enough to inaudibly respond. Was he hurt? Where did he come from? The road that connected Berwald's house to society went on for at least half a mile in both directions before hitting civilization and in this storm it would be impossible to get very far on your own. Did he crash near the beginning of Berwald's drive and came down here seeking aid? Whatever happened, it looked like he'd been in the blizzard too long and needed help.
It was an hour before daybreak that the stranger was finally cozy and warm on the couch in front of the fire. His breaths were heavy from parted lips and although he was out of the bitter cold, his cheeks were still flushed in ruby. One touch later and Berwald discovered his temperature was very high. So the man was sick and wandering around in a blizzard in the dark on Christmas morning? It would be nice to hear his story once he woke up.
It would also be nice to know his name and where he came from. And his number. Berwald thought this with a small smile as he gazed at the face framed in warm blankets. He was, without a doubt, the cutest thing Berwald had ever laid eyes on. You know, besides Peter.
Speaking of the little monster, Peter never failed to wake up before sunrise on Christmas morning and run around the house screaming as soon as he did. This year was no different and as soon as he was awake Berwald knew it. Usually he would allow it because it was Christmas and he enjoyed seeing Peter so happy, but today he had to rush upstairs and keep him from disturbing the visitor.
"We have a guest?" Peter asked. He didn't seem all that interested, though. Berwald knew his son well enough to know all he wanted was to go downstairs and start ripping open presents.
"Ja. Yoo have tah be quiet, 'kay? He needs tah sleep and the fire place. We will op'n presents in 'nother room." He could see his son was a little disappointed that he couldn't open his presents in front of the fire and in the presence of the Christmas tree, but Peter was a good boy and didn't complain.
"…Okay. Come on, Papa! Let's go see what Santa left me!" Berwald was dragged by his hand downstairs by the six year old who was trying to keep his happiness contained like he was told. It all exploded from him the second he saw the wet red and white coat hanging on the wrack with a matching hat. "SANTA! Look Papa, Santa's coat! You didn't tell me our guest is Santa Claus!"
"Shhhh, he's not S'nta," Berwald tried to tell him but Peter was already jumping around announcing it to the world. The man in the living room groaned at the noise and shifted in his blankets. By the time Peter was contained, his eyes were open and he was looking around in confusion.
"…Where am I?" His voice was hoarse. Berwald helped him sit up with Peter bouncing happily by his side.
"Yoo're in mah home. Found yoo outside. Sick."
"Oh!" the man shrunk back when he got a look at Berwald's intimidating face. "U-um…th-thank you, sir… I didn't mean to intrude or anything…"
"Name's Berwald," Berwald introduced hoping the scared look would wane. Although it was also cute. "An' this is Peter."
"Hi, Santa!" Peter waved. As soon as the man took one look at Peter his terror simply faded away into a friendly smile.
"Hello there, Peter. My name is Tino."
"No it isn't, you're Santa."
Tino looked a bit shocked for a split second before starting to laugh. It was a quiet weak laugh, but it was warm. Or as Berwald was thinking: it was cute. "My, my. What makes you say that?"
"Papa found you in the snow on Christmas morning," Peter explained with a smug grin. "And you are wearing Santa's clothes, and you smell like cookies."
"But I don't have a beard and I'm not as big as Santa," Tino lightly tapped him on the nose with a finger making the boy giggle, "and I wasn't driving a sleigh."
"Yeah, but…" Peter looked stumped. He puffed out his cheeks and furrowed his rather large eyebrows at Tino.
"He's got a big imag'nation," Berwald ruffled the boy's flaxen hair. Tino nodded in agreement.
"Yes, he does. Um, Berwald? Could you maybe tell me where I am? I don't remember much…" Other than flying over Scandinavia on his trip home and suddenly hitting a storm. On most days he could counter it, but this time he was low on Christmas magic and energy because of his sickness.
"Yoo're on 120 near Tingsryd," Berwald answered. Tino pursed his lips in thought. It was adorable. Everything about this person was absolutely endearing, Berwald was coming to realize.
"Tingsryd…That is in…Sweden, right?" Berwald nodded. It looked like Tino wanted to groan in exasperation but he didn't. Instead he shook his head and put on a nervous smile. "Oh, yeah of course. Silly me, not even remembering which country I'm in, eh? Haha…" It seriously looked like he was going to fall over at any moment so Berwald gently push him back down on the couch.
"Yoo need rest. Ah'll get yoo s'me medicine tah get the fever down. C'ld? Need any more blankets?" He stood and started walking towards the kitchen. Tino shook his head.
"No, thank you…I feel fine, just a little sore and light headed." Berwald came back with two pills and a glass of water. Even that was going to taste great after a night of nothing but cookies and milk.
"Can I open my presents now?" Peter begged. Berwald was about to tell him to wait a few more minutes when he heard Tino's light chuckle.
"I think you should let him do it already," he said. "He looks like he's about to explode."
"Not a bother?"
"No, of course not. I don't want to intrude on your Christmas traditions."
"Yay!" Peter leapt up and grabbed the first box he saw. Berwald sat on the ground next to Tino's head to watch…and get a nice position to nonchalantly take a few sneak looks at his guest. He couldn't help it, he hadn't known the man for more than a few minutes and he already felt drawn to him.
"Look, look! It's an Optimus Prime action figure!" Peter held up his toy in its box with zeal. Berwald clapped his hands with a smile in his eyes then looked to Tino. The man looked almost as excited as the child.
"Oh, wow! I love Optimus. Do you have a Megatron to go with him?"
"No, but that's okay." Peter dove right into the presents again and pulled out a similar sized one. It lost its colorful wrapping almost the second it landed in his hands. "Woooah! Megatron, too? Now I can make them fight!"
It seems Tino had knowledge of every toy Peter received. He knew how to get the little robot that taught kids how to speak different languages working. (This one was in Japanese because his son was obsessed with an anime at the moment and wanted to speak it.) There was a Pokemon card in a small stack that was apparently rare and Tino knew all about it. He knew what was in a playtime workshop set without even looking at the box.
"Do yoo work'n a toy store?" Berwald inquired. Tino looked over with a bit of a blush (or was that the fever?) and shook his head.
"N-no, I just…I know a lot about toys." The Swede wanted to know more, but he decided not to pry. Tino didn't look like he'd be awake for very much longer.
"Wow, this is the best Christmas ever!" Peter stood up in his pile of new toys and declared. "Thank you, Santa!"
"You're wel…" Tino caught himself and pretended like it was a cough. The effort hurt his head but he hoped it worked. "I mean, you are a very polite boy. Such a gentleman."
Peter beamed. "Yeah! And Santa knows it, that's why he gets me so many presents every year. Right?"
Berwald nodded. "Hm. But he did leave a note. It said yoo need tah clean yoo're room if ya w'nt tah stay on the nice list."
"Awwww," Peter pouted. Tino chuckled at the face the boy made. He really got along with kids, didn't he? That just made the man even more appealing to Berwald. "Hey Papa. Since Santa doesn't bring old people presents, I made you one." Peter went to his room and came back moments later with something wrapped in printer paper scribbled with crayon. He handed the surprised father his gift and Berwald took it with curiosity.
"Ah… Th'nk yoo, Peter," he ruffled Peter's hair affectionately and the boy grinned ear to ear.
"Open it! Quick!" Berwald did as he was told and tore the paper away with care. When it was removed, what was left in his hand was a ceramic mug generously decorated with many different colored finger paints. On the side was a little doodle of two figures holding hands, one tall and one short. The tall one had glasses and the short one was smiling. "That one is you, and that's me," the child explained. "Do you like it, Papa? Do you? I made it myself!"
Berwald looked over what was probably the mug that went missing a few weeks ago and nodded with a smile. "Ja. Ah love it, th'nk yoo."
"Yay!" Peter cheered and hugged his father. The man hugged back and wished him a merry Christmas. "Merry Christmas to you too, Papa," Peter said whole heartedly. "And to you, Tino!"
"Yeah…" Tino was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. The scene in front of him was so touching it made his heart warm, but he couldn't stay awake much longer. The medicine worked its magic and now he had to succumb to his feverish fatigue. At least his body wasn't aching so much anymore. "…Merry Christmas…"
Berwald watched Tino's eyes flutter shut with Peter in his arms. A faint smile was left on those lips, so delicate and rosy, and he couldn't help but smile, too. "M'rry Christmas, T'no."
Though Santa didn't bring 'old people' presents, he sure felt like he was given quite a gift this year.
…And he can't wait to unwrap it. *brick'd*
I can't promise anything for update speed this time. Hopefully I will get this thing relatively complete by Christmas.