A Late Christmas Gift 02

Sugarbell hummed merrily to herself as she washed the dishes in the wee hours of the morning. Her new boyfriend's apartment didn't nearly have as big a kitchen as the one back home, but of course it wouldn't be when it didn't need to provide for the meals of several hundred elfs, each of which wanted some amount of input. She'd heard the adage that too many cooks spoiled the broth, and found it to be good advice, no more than two were ever overseeing any given pot; as for the rest, they each had decades to centuries of expertise keeping out of one another's way in the most elbow-banging-est workshop ever up at the north pole.

So, down in America, in what Rick had called a very small kitchen, she said she felt that she had all the space she could possibly need. Now all she had to worry about was obtaining proper cookware, as the neighbors she'd been borrowing from would soon enough be back from their vacations for the winter season. Rick had told her to stop 'breaking and entering', sure, leaving her to make do with a couple frying pans, a pot, and a baking pan so corroded that she didn't feel comfortable feeding him from it. Silly, what did it matter if they wouldn't ever know?

The leftovers from Christmas night had lasted three whole days and when she'd asked what his plans had been to feed himself, he said he likely would have gone down the street for takeout.

"Well, that just won't do!" she'd said. "Not when a bag of potatoes is only four dollars and you have plenty of eggs in the fridge." Her newfound pride in being a girlfriend had flared and now the only reason the fridge wasn't full to bursting was that she'd merely transformed its erstwhile contents into weeks of delicious meals rather than going out and spending more money.

Her cheeks pinked as she remembered the praise he'd heaped on her for the simplest things. One might believe the man hadn't had a home-cooked meal in his life for how eagerly he came to the table when the clink of plates perked his ears.

A swish of the hips pinked her further, memories piling up from a whole week of intimacy. Her lover was still sleeping off their last torrid night and she so wished she could be there within his arms; she would make sure to slip back in without him noticing and wheedle some extra snuggling out of him before sunrise intruded through the clouds with its silvery clarity.

Then, she knew, he would retreat to his work after breakfast, diligently going over sheets of numbers and codes she couldn't exactly understand. That fastidious nature of his was just one more reason for her love, but she would be lying if she said that she didn't want to spend his entire week off in his arms, resting her head against his broad chest.

As the desire began winning her over, she finished wiping dry the last plate and returned to the bedroom. With footfalls so soft and skillful that they would have hardly left an imprint in snow, she snuck to the side of the bed and softly, slowly, crawled back into the imprint she'd left behind with Rick's strong arm draped over her belly.

Time itself subtly roused her slumbering prince, she felt his breath deepen against the top of her bright, blonde head as he drew her in closer. Sugarbell nuzzled her head back against him in silent acknowledgement that she, too, was awake, and the two remained as they were for long minutes in the simple pleasure of one another's company while the darkness of the night remained.

She wished the dawn would never come, held Rick's arm in place once the silvery rays cut into the room through the gap in the drapes so that she might have him for only a few moments longer.

"Good morning," he said with a yawn, but he did not attempt to get up.

"It is, isn't it? Happy New Year's eve."

"Already? I could have sworn that wouldn't be for another few days."

She turned in his arms, giggling, spread her fingers across his broad chest beneath the warmth of the blankets they shared, and she bought herself in for a little peck on the lips. It wasn't an invitation as such, but he knew she wouldn't have said no, she'd made as much perfectly clear. "You can't tell me that when I see you looking at the calendar every day, dreading the day when you have to go to work again. Time does fly when you're having fun, doesn't it?"

"I'll say," he said. "Most years I'll spend the whole time looking at the clock, wishing it would just be over already. It's not that I like work, at all, because nobody does, but being there and having the normal rhythms helps the time go by, I think."

She kissed his neck and whispered, "I like my work. But I know what you mean, the air is different when it's full of the noises of a job well done. Some of my cousins say the workshop is so noisy, but that's the whole reason it's fun."

"Right, Santa's workshop," he said. "So, you never did say what you actually do there. Is it anything like greeting cards say?"

"There are a bunch of differences, but yes," she said, burying her head beneath his chin and curling herself to slip one knee between his legs. "There's the wood shop, the metal shop, the glassblowing furnace, and the plastic molding area, sure. It's hard to source raw materials up at the north pole, even though we do the last leg of shipping ourselves, so we end of having to make most of it from scratch. And that's just the toy-making shop."

"Hm," Rick said. "But he, Santa I mean, doesn't really deliver presents to all of the children, like the stories, does he? I never-" he started, before realizing a present was currently nuzzling up to him, "until this year, I never got one from him. I don't know if I should count you; seems like I should credit you for yourself."

"No, not all of them," she said, tracing small, ticklish circles on his bare chest with her fingertip. "Only a couple hundred million of them these days, and it's not always the sorts of things you would recognize. After all, most of the people who do the rituals to summon Him already have plans to buy presents for their own children, so his actual presence isn't really required except to sip milk and bite cookies." Sugarbell reared up so that her boyfriend was sure to see her smug grin. "And so many of them ruin it anyway by planning to eat the offerings themselves. I mean, I know they don't believe, so they're just making sure there are teeth marks to be found in the morning, but they're lucky He isn't one of the more dangerous fey."

"Rituals? Summoning? Why are you talking about Santa as if he's a demon or something."

Sugarbell pushed her boyfriend onto his back and resumed her snuggling like an attention-starved kitten, stopping just short of purring since her cheeks already burned. "He is, we are, something. And you know the ritual, I know you do. Milk and cookies, decorated tree to put the presents under, a doused fireplace for hopefully obvious reasons, and stockings hung for smaller treats. It's changed over the years, but most people who prepare their homes for him are already on the case for giving in the spirit of the season."

"So my mom was right when she called her and dad 'Santa's little helpers'?"

"Haha, she did? That's what we call those things when you have one of those fat men dress up like the man Himself and let him take pictures with the kids."

"A mall Santa?"

"That's the thing," Sugarbell said. "You know, He didn't used to like those guys, because He thought they were mocking Him, but it's really more like a form of worship in the end."

Rick laughed to himself and sighed, at last too awake to even consider going back to sleep, and he rose to get dressed. While he pulled on his pants for the day, even though he didn't think he would be leaving this apartment. Sugarbell watched from beneath the blanket, peeking over the edge, innately aware of the feeling of her silky pajamas sliding against her skin. Licentious urges rang in her head like tingling bells and she waved them away so she could join her man in getting ready for the day.

"Say," she said, already-pinked cheeks deepening in color. "Did you have any plans for New Year's?" She fidgeted, so cute~

"Not as such, I suppose. The actual plan was to be lonely on the couch, finish off that box of fudge in the kitchen, and go to sleep early. Can't really do that anymore now that you're here."

Sugarbell smiled, pressed her face into his back and encircled his belly with her arms, then rocked gently as the scent of his laundry filled her head again with naughty ideas. "Sorry to ruin your fun, Beau." She sounded slightly anxious for some reason.

As a gesture of faux comfort, Rick took her hands in his and stroked her skin. "I mean, I certainly won't be lonely this year. I wouldn't want to stuff my gob with store-bought treats when I have your cooking to look forward to." He paused, because he wasn't used to playing the part he'd had thrust upon him, and Sugarbell patiently waited for the best part. "... Can't go to sleep before midnight..."

"Oh? Why is that?" she asked, hips swaying happily.

"Well... we have to kiss at midnight, don't we? That is the tradition after all."

She couldn't help skipping around to his front, reaching up to cradle his cheeks in her palms, and tugging him down. Her tongue flitted between his lips, playing with his as their breath melded and time beyond their embrace became meaningless. Rick wasn't the type to kiss without meaning, without acknowledgement of his partner; she knew that she would be his whole world for the duration, that he wouldn't hurry along to get this gesture of affection out of the way. She knew, and was not jealous, that every time he'd kissed another woman, he had done so with every intention of continuing on well after physical pleasure failed them.

Once they came apart, Sugarbell wiped away a strand of their intermingled spit that had broken across her chin, and she stared up with dewdrop-sprinkle eyes. "Um, right, so... Do you want to come home with me for the party?"

"Party?" he said, still fuzzy-headed. "Wait, when you say 'home'-"

"Of course I mean the north pole, silly billy." She giggled.

"Wow..." He knew, but didn't care, that he was showing a look of childlike wonder at the thought of visiting a place he didn't believe existed until just recently. He wasn't in the habit of thinking anything good could be coming to him, though Sugarbell was breaking him of it.

"That's right my sweet, I'll give you the grand tour and then we'll join up with the rest of my clan for drinks and the final countdown. Santa Himself will be there, and I know that's not as exciting for you now that you're an adult, but-"

"You're kidding, that would be amazing!" Rick interrupted her with such enthusiasm that she didn't have to sell the experience very hard. "I'll need to buy some winter gear, won't I? It's gotta be so cold up there. Do I need to bring a present?"

Sugarbell laughed and turned on her heel to step away and begin on breakfast. "Any big coat you have will be fine, and I'll make all of the arrangements for us so don't you worry your pretty little head."

--

He was trying to do his work all morning, but moreso now than in the last few days he found himself distracted beyond his ability to ignore. As he kept looking up to the clock, Sugarbell kept a close eye so that she would see every instant of desperation on her boyfriend's face. She almost felt jealous of the North Pole itself when her own body had been the source of his distractions ever since that first night together. But all good things had to end, and in the early hours of the evening, she took him by the hand and the two of them went up to the roof to be picked up.

"Never seen a reindeer, fella?" the elfin driver asked as Rick climbed into the sleigh. He'd been staring at the two animals since the moment he came out the door. That they flew was only a heaped-on whimsy that gave his gaze the most wonderful sparkle of curiosity and excitement.

As the land shrank below them and streaked by, Sugarbell still watched her man watching the view. She'd seen this sight so many times before that it was so much more interesting to see someone else reacting to the sheer speed for the first time.

"This is so cool!" Rick yelled over the roar of the air currents passing around them.

Sugarbell puffed out her chest with pride, an infectious smile stretching from one pointy ear to the other. She wished she'd been allowed to drive and show him just what these magical beasts could really do, reminded herself to ask for the privilege on the return trip.

Like a shot, it was over. Let no one say that Santa's sleigh can't get you where you want to go in no time flat.

They landed in the snow by the main workshop, an immense building of deliberately archaic design with whorls of woodwork and structural schmaltz that had been added to over the centuries by bored elfs in the off seasons. Rick went out into the snow and immediately sank to his knees, actually making Sugarbell a head and a half taller than him for a short time as she walked atop the snow, not that he was in any state to notice as he, wide-eyed, trudged through it in denim that was sure to be soaked by the time they got to the entrance. She followed closely behind, fighting off the urge to tell him everything she knew about the building because it was better for him to exhaust his whimsy than to tear it away with a boring history lesson.

He was shivering by the time they made it to the front door, because of course he was when the only heavy jacket he owned was meant more for rain than any kind of snow, but he didn't complain even as his shaking made his teeth start to clatter.

But that was alright because on the first step inside they were hit with a front of warm air and an immediately cozy atmosphere. Workers who had been dancing or drinking nearby swarmed the human, poking and prodding because most of them had never really seen one and they were a curious breed if there ever was one. Sugarbell had to hold tight to her man's coat, she'd only chosen short-legged overalls and a candy-cane-striped shirt herself, to avoid being washed away in the flood of her kin.

"Wow, you're tall!" "Where are you from?" "Want a drink?" "What's your name?" "How old are you anyway?" "What color is your underwear?" "Humans still like chestnuts, right?" "I'm here too!" "You look strong, can you pick me up?" "Me too!" "Can I touch your hair?" "Can I feel your muscles?" "What's twenty-five times forty?"

"Hold on, everyone!" Sugarbell shouted above the din of questions, so many and so fast that there was no way Rick could single out one to answer for lack of understanding. "You'll get your chance, but we're on a date! Shove off already," she said, giggling to herself, proud that her man was already so popular.

She tugged him through the lot of them and up a staircase so that he could get a good look at the main workshop hall in all its glittering glory, decorations still up (they were rarely down), workstations silent for the first time in months and their owners spread out and playing amongst each other. They saw as one elf let himself be used as a bowling ball against a group who had the audacity to be standing all together in a triangle, and they collapsed into an ecstatic, bubblingly soused heap before setting themselves up again for real. Food and drink flowed like water, though the really hard stuff wouldn't come out until later that night.

"They're like puppies," Rick said with a smile. "Want to smell the new guy."

She could see it, draping his arms over her shoulders. She'd had to hold back her excitement the first time as well. "Most of them will never leave home. You're going to be a celebrity guest all night; can you handle it?"

"Ah, darn, and I left all of my headshots back home. Guess that means none of them are going to get an autograph."

Sugarbell smirked to herself and subtly hooked a finger to a certain elf down on the floor who was getting his shots in. One blinding flash later, she said, "So, do you want to set up a little booth for the autographs, or do you just want to let them come right up to you?"

He shook with laughter behind her, against her. This was a great place to be, rubbing the back of her head against his broad chest and feeling his luxurious heat flow into her. It was tempting to put this event off until the next year, to have him all to herself for months on end, but Sugarbell had truly wanted her man to know just where she came from, she wanted something else that she could only get by having him right here, no matter how mortifying her family could be...

"Do you think it's actually likely?" he said. "There's really nothing special about me."

Sugarbell sighed, steeling her heart so that she could wait as long as she needed to, and slipped her fingers through his to lead him away and down the hall. "I think," she said, "that you don't give yourself enough credit. They all work all year thinking about the outside world and how much joy they'll be spreading by doing the best job they can. It's a little thing, but they're always thinking in the back of their minds that they'd like to be one of the ones whose job is to go out and see for themselves just how pleased people are with the holidays. Ah, mind your head."

He narrowly missed banging his forehead on the doorway leading into the foundry. "Holy moly, that was in here, too?" He stared, slack-jawed as a heat of steel poured in the distance, kept from scorching their eyebrows by means of clever fans and vents. "What are they even making over there?"

"Let's see," Sugarbell said and caught the attention of a Dwarf who waddled right over, respectfully taking off his hardhat. "You all are sure as hard at work as you were when I left. What's the job today?"

Rick was as surprised at the appearance of the Dwarf, with the frizzy beard covering the majority of his face, shorter than the elfs who could pass for (exceedingly pretty) humans if they tucked their ears in. This surprise, too, Sugarbell drank up.

The Dwarf said, "Wanted to give the new fabricator a test drive since the man himself was kind enough to give it to us. I'm gettin' a new hammer, that's what, but I heard Oddson's tryin' to make a neat music box what for his wife."

"That's nice of him," Rick said.

"Would be, but Oddson's an odd one, overbuilds the dern things so badly that they won't play a note. The wife uses 'em as paperweights!" The Dwarf guffawed as he walked away with a wave.

Rick said, as they continued toward R&D, "I didn't think Dwarfs worked up here, or existed, that's so cool! Why aren't they in any of the songs or things?"

Sugarbell spun on one heel with a look of suffused joy on her face, took Rick's hand again as though she couldn't bear to let him go for another instant. "They're more recent additions to the family," she said. "As it turns out, you need spring steel for all sorts of things and making it on site is more efficient, and more efficient still when you have the mountain clan working it. Just too bad they aren't greeting-card worthy, and those companies just don't like non-cute imagery. But I think they're cute, don't you?"

They looked like men who'd been compressed from above until all of the remaining mass had to spread out into the rest of their stout bodies. "I suppose so, kinda."

She winked at him as they crossed the threshold into R&D. Here, the industrial background fell away and Rick found himself at the bottom of a large room stuffed to the ceiling with drawers, set up like a maze. There was nobody in here, but the desks showed the story of a normal day from the refuse left behind at the moment the workday was done. A peek into one of the closer drawers showed that they were filled with bits and bobbles of all shapes and sizes in no particular order, the same ones which had been picked and taken to the elfs' workspaces in an attempt to mash them together in some way to make something new.