How to Correct the Holiday Blues

I. December

It's Christmas Eve, and she's still awake, sleeping on the bottom bunk of what used to be her bed. Above her her niece and nephew, four and six consequtively, are asleep. She rolls over and sighs. She shouldn't have come home for the holidays. It just reminds her of what she doesn't have: a relationship, a family, or happiness.

She hears a thump from the living room and slides out of bed to make sure the Grinch isn't stealing Christmas. When she steps into the living room the first thing she sees is a jean clad bottom stuck in the air, bobbing back and forth to an internal beat. For a minute she thinks its her mom, but then she hears the voice.

"Oh I just can't wait to be king!"

And seriously, what the fuck? "What the fuck," she says, because they're totally getting robbed on Christmas Eve.

The guy turns, startled, a surprised look on his face, plump lips parted.

"I uh-, come for the kids," he waves a large red bag for emphasis.

Her eyes bulge, "Seriously, what the fuck!"

"Oh shit no!" the guy waves his hands frantically, "I said come, not came."

She's grabbing at a fire poker, but the guy yanks the bag over the shoulder and--fucking scurries up the chimney like a squirrel up a tree. What the fuck! She runs out the front door, to the lawn and looks up. And seriously, what the fuck! The crazy guy is standing next to a sleigh. And there are animals on her mother's roof!

"Hey, you crazy dickhead!" she shouts, "Get down from there!"

"Shh, you'll wake all the kids!" the guy calls back, flailing.

"Get your fucking--moosi off my roof!" she yells.

"Uh oh, now you've done it," the guy yells, because the moosi snort and jump. The last thought she has before she sees black is the chorus of Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer running hysterically through her mind.

The first time she wakes up its to the guy smiling down at her. He's wearing red goggles, and a Santa hat. She jumps away from him and nearly topples out the sleigh. He grabs her around her waist, and she catches a glance over the edge and whimpers, "Vertigo."

She passes out again.

The second time she wakes she's in a bed, with a ton of quilts covering her knees. She's feels like she should be too warm, or maybe not warm enough, but it's the perfect temperature. She puts her socked feet on the floor and stands shakily, pushing open the door to the room and peeking out. The guy is there, eating a soft taco infront of A Nightmare Before Christmas.

"I love this movie!" he says happily, when he hears her, "Even if they aren't very nice about how Santa looks."

"You're insane," she says.

"I'm not," the guy says, twinkle in his eye, "I'm Santa."

"You're Santa," she repeats, doubt evident in her voice, "Okay, look, I'm just going to leave. You stay there. And I'm just, going to go."

She runs out the front door straight into a blizzard. She slips on ice in her socked feet and lands in a snow drift four feet tall. She swings her arms like she's trying to swim her way out. A hand grabs her under the elbow and lifts her out easily. There's hands pressed under her knees and she's being carried back into warmth.

She's shivering, "Was that a polar bear? Wearing a scarf?"

He fusses over her, pulling her socks off and tucking blankets around her. Her teeth are chattering. She wraps the blankets tighter around herself.

He shrugs, "Well, it's the north pole, what did you expect? I probably should have warned you about the blizzard."

"Yeah, thanks," she squeaks, hunkering down for warmth.

"I'll find you some warmer clothes," he says happily, and skips off down the hallway.

What. The. Fuck.

After she's warm in a pair of lavender thermal pajamas and some really thick socks she shuffles back to the couch, and under the mound of blankets.

"Okay," she says, "Santa, what am I doing here?"

"You insulted the reindeer," he says, "That's punishable by manual labor."

"I'm sorry, excuse me?" she says.

"Oh, well, yeah," he shrugs, "The reindeer are pretty finiky, and they're really mad at you right now. You have to make it up to them."

"They're reindeer, they'll get over it," she waves a hand waspishly.

"They're centuries old," Santa says, "And if you don't make it right with them they won't deliver gifts next Christmas."

"People are going to notice I disappeared," she says grumpily.

"I already took care of that," he smiles, "I sent a sea monkey."

"You sent a sea monkey?" she asks, "Like, from a pouch. You grow them in water?"

"Well, yeah. They're really intelligent creatures," Santa says, "It looks and sounds just like you. Don't worry. Think about it as a vacation. Where you have to feed and water reindeer."

"This is insane," she says, sighing.

II. January

"Hey Santa," Sophie says, shucking her gloves and boots at the door, "Those fucking reindeer have it in for me."

"Okay, look," Santa says, "Santa is a title. My name is Brendon."

"What? How long have you been Santa?" she asks, looking him over. He doesn't look much older than her, really, and she's twenty-two.

"Ten years," Brendon says, "I just missed you, actually, you stopped believeing in Santa a few years before that. Santa only comes to the people who believe."

"Ah," she says, "So you don't really visit every child in the world. Just those who believe in you. Who was Santa before you?"

"He was really nice," Brendon says, "His name was Gerard. He fell in love and gave up being Santa to stay with her."

"Aww," she coos and Brendon rolls his eyes, "Why didn't she just stay here with him?"

"Santa is immortal," Brendon says, "Gerard would have stayed the same age and she would have kept growing older."

"He gave up immortality for her?" Sophie sighs, "That's beautiful."

"That's insane," Brendon says, "There's nothing more rewarding than being Santa."

"Not even love?" Sophie frowns, "Don't you get lonely?"

"I have the elves to keep me company," Brendon says, "Besides, I've never been in love, you can't miss something you've never had."

"That's a little sad," Sophie says softly, Brendon just shrugs.

III. February

She tucks another strand of hair behind her ears, before shoveling the dirty hay into the wheel barrel. Yuck. She's been feeding, watering and mucking the stables since the day after Christmas, and the reindeer are still irritated with her. She called them moose. Not that big a deal!

"You're purposely picking on me, aren't you, Blitzen," she asks, looking down at the reindeer.

He snorts and kicks at a particularly nasty section of the hay. The little mother--
She scoops up the last of the dirty straw with a sigh. She rushes through laying down new hay and shuffles back to the warmth of the main house as quickly as all seven layers of pants will allow her.

When she's got all her layers but one off she steps out of the front hall and into the living room. The fire crackles cheerfully in the fireplace. Brendon and another guy are bent over a doll that's supposed to giggle.

"The wiring is wrong," Brendon says, "I just can't figure out where."

They peer down at the doll on the table. The second guy flips his dark hair out of his eyes and reaches down to squeeze the play button in the dolls hand. The doll lets out a loud shriek and doesn't stop. Sophie clutches her hands to her ears while the other two wince. She walks up to the table, turns the doll over and smacks it sharply on it's bottom. The wailing stops immediately.

"Yeah," Brendon swallows, "That's definately a malfunction."

"Who's this," the other guy directs his hazel eyes to Sophie. Brendon glances at her too.

"Sophie, this is Pete. Pete, Sophie."

Pete raises her hand like he's going to kiss it, but instead turns it over and licks at the pulse, "The ladies call me Cupid."

He wiggles his eyebrows at her lecherously and she stares at him, open mouthed for a moment, "Your love is my heart disease," she sings.

"Oh," Pete says sadly, "You're a cynic."

"I--need a shower," Sophie says, turns on her heel and flees.

She'd never pictured Cupid as a short, dark haired guy, with a ton of tattoos of The Nightmare Before Christmas. Then again, she'd never really imagined a real Cupid anyway. When she gets out of the bathroom, smelling like apples and vanilla, she's catching Pete as he wraps a scarf around his neck, getting ready to leave.

He and Brendon embrace, then he turns quickly and hugs her as well.

"Don't worry," Pete says, "I'll find you your true love."

"Pete," Brendon says warningly, and he holds up his hands, "I'm going, I'm going."

"Ignore him," Brendon says, after he's gone, "He's only been Cupid for a few months."

"Is that a title too?" Sophie asks, interested.

"Yeah, he was Saint Patrick," Brendon says with a laugh, "But him and Gabe, the old Cupid, got drunk and he won the title off Gabe in a Twister tournament."

"Seriously? You guys can just give away your titles like that?" she frowns. Huh.

"Yeah," Brendon shrugs, "It's alot like getting promoted, really. Anyone can take the title, as long as it was willingly given."

"Huh," Sophie says, "Has there ever been a woman Santa?"

"Elenor Roosevelt," Brendon says and she nods, "That kinda really explains alot."

Brendon just laughs.

IV. March

They're watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes on dvd together. Sophie has discovered that Brendon likes to cuddle. He's pretty intense about it, actually. He'll make sure that the pillows are fluffed right, that there are plenty of snacks, and that she's warm enough. As soon as he's sure she's comfortable he'll flop down on the couch next to her and wrap himself around her.

She'd asked if he didn't have any thing better to do, like make toys, but apparently the first few months of the year were a vacation for Santa. After that it was, well, more vacation for Brendon. After he accidentally burned downed the toy shop three years ago the elves had banned him from the premises. So Brendon basically had nothing to do until the second week of December, when he started going through the naughty and nice list. (This isn't the total truth, he was in charge of inventory, and restocking, but that was an easy job, compared to anything else. And also, he had an assistant.)

Which is now computerized.

Sophie had met a few of the elves; one especially, named Tarra, brought them food every few days. Brendon could cook, but he tended to stick mostly to things like grilled cheese and soups. Sophie was pretty thankful for Tarra. Even if she couldn't borrow any of the girl's awesome, homemade leather boots. Nope.

Sophie leaned farther into Brendon and sighed, "Buffy and Angel were totally tragic."

"Yeah," Brendon said, "It's my favorite season."

"I know, my favorite episode is when she sends him to hell," Sophie says, shifts again, so that' they're both sprawled across the couch, side by side. Brendon wraps an arm around her waist and curls his fingers with hers unconsciously. She's not paying any more attention than him. They fall asleep somewhere between season three and the episode where Buffy meets Riley.

"So, seriously," she says when they're making breakfast the next morning, "What is the sea monkey doing, exactly?"

"Eh," Brendon says, "Pretending to be you. Doing your job, keeping in touch with your family. The usual."

"And no one can tell it's not me?" she asks skeptically.

"Sea monkeys are very intelligent," Brendon says, "Besides, I'm Santa. Magic's on my side."

"Uh huh," Sophie says and Brendon gasps, "Shun the nonbeliever!"

Sophie laughs.

V. April

Sophie can't help but be amazed every single time she meets one of Brendon's friends. It's two days until Easter and they're having a tea party with the Easter Bunny and The Great Pumpkin. Yeah, weirdly, this is her life now.

The Great Pumpkin (call me Frank) is telling a story about the old Santa Claus. He'd gotten stuck in a window in Manhattan-how else do you think they get into houses without fireplaces?- and the sun was coming up. He'd ended up having to leave his bag and his pants behind to get away. The reindeer had startled as soon as the sun started to rise, and abandoned him. He'd called Frank to come get him, but Frank had gotten caught in early morning traffic and Gerard had been picked up for public indecency.

Patrick, the Easter Bunny snorts and launches into a story about Pete before he was Cupid. The only thing better than Pete running around in a pair of fake wings with a magical bow is apparently Pete dressed as a leprechaun. Sophie will never look at Pete the same, since the short guy can apparently not hold his liquor.

"Wait wait," Sophie interrupts, "The tooth fairy isn't a girl?"

"No," Patricks laughs, "But that is a whole other story. So Pete's all, hey, lets go back to my room. And William is like, dude, is that your hand on my dick?"

The room erupts into laughter, and Sophie is clutching her side. Yeah, never looking at Pete the same again.

"He's going to kill you for telling that story," Brendon says, "But seriously, his face! He was like, what, Bill!?"

They all laugh again and Sophie catches Brendon's eyes over Patrick's head. They smile at each other.

VI. May

Sophie is lying on her back in the hay. Blitzen is pressed to her side, eating the carrots from her lunch.

"Seriously," she says, "Coolest moose ever."

Blitzen shakes his antlers her way in mock irritation, or plain irritation, she's not sure which, and eats another carrot.

"Am I forgiven?" she gives him doe eyes. Blitzen snorts, rises, and paws at the dirty hay in the corner of his stall.

"Fine," she says, "I'm getting to it."

She rises, surprised that she's actually gotten used to the weather enough to wander around in just two layers instead of the seven she was packing when she first came to the north pole. She grabs her shovel and begins mucking through what's disgusting in the stall. When Blitzen turns his back she mimes smacking him with her shovel. Dasher makes a noise and Blitzen kicks at her with his back leg.

She squeaks and just misses getting impaled with a hoof.

After she's finished she trudges through the snow and into the house.

"Brendon!" she calls, sticking her head in the kitchen, "Blitzen ate my carrots and then didn't forgive me!"

"Aww," Brendon coos at her stuck out bottom lip, "Blitzen can hold a grudge."

"Tell me about it," she huffs, sitting at the table. Brendon gives her a contemplative look.

"What?" she asks, and he shrugs, "Some people are coming up for a party. You feel like ice skating?"

She smiles, "That sounds like fun."

She puts on an extra layer, just in case it gets colder out. Brendon tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and slips his cap over her head. There's a stuttering in her chest. It almost hurts.

"There," he says with a grin, "Now you're ears won't freeze and fall off."

"My ears appreciate your sacrifice," she says, and if it sounds a little breathless, it's not a big deal. Brendon certainly doesn't notice.

He hands her a pair of ice skates, holds up his own and leads her out of the house and to the sleigh. The pond is a short ride away and they laugh and make lewd jokes about the shapes of the snow drifts.
The "party" at the pond was actually alot of people Sophia didn't think existed hanging out, getting drunk and falling through thin ice. Brendon rolled his eyes alot, but you could tell he loved his friends.
Brendon kinda loved every body.

"I just met the Sandman," Sophia breathed in Brendon's ear, "He's sorta creepy."

Brendon laughed, a puff of hot air in the cold. It ghosted across her cheek and made her shiver. She caught Pete and a really tall guy with a purple hoodie under a thick black coat, which was unzipped, whispering to each other. Pete was staring at them with a weird look in his eye.

"Um," she said, "Why is Pete grinning at me?"

"What?" Brendon asked, turning to look at Pete, "Ignore him. Here, let's go skate. I'll make sure you don't fall through the ice."

"Yeah, okay," she agreed, and wondered about the dirty look Brendon shot Pete over his shoulder.

VII. June

"Are you stalking me?" Sophia asks when she comes home for the third time that week to Pete setting the table for dinner.

"Now that you mention it," Pete says, "Yes, I am."

Huh, the weird thing is, Sophia almost thinks he was serious, "I guess I could do worse with a stalker, huh?" she asks with a grin, "Cupid's pretty sweet. On the scale of one to scary, that is."

"I can totally be scary," Pete says.

Sophia snorts.

"I can kill love," Pete says, "I can make you sad and miserable, and you'll spend the rest of your life that way. I can make others regret their love for you."

Sophia's eyes widen, "I didn't think love could actually die."

"It can," Pete says sharply, and she's got the idea that Pete might know this lesson pretty well all on his own.

"Pete's always welcome," Brendon says, carrying a plate of baked chicken from the kitchen. His tone of voice might hint otherwise. Pete just grins at him.

She knows, later, to blame Pete for what happens next.

They eat dinner and Pete hangs around long enough for the showing of Boondock Saints. Halfway through Sophie and Brendon have managed to twist together the same way they always do when they watch movies together. Pete watches them from the corner of his eye. He gives them an evil look on his way out the door.

The click of the latch is almost a signal. There's a tugging in her stomach, and Brendon crosses the brief space and pulls her flush against him. They're kissing, desperate noises in the back of their throat. Brendon's door closes behind them, and noise echoes in the otherwise silent house.

In the morning Sophie is digging through Brendon's stuff, looking for his cell phone. When she finds it she sneaks out of the bedroom and stands in the hallway leaning against the wall. Biting her lip she dials her sister and waits for the phone to stop ringing.

"Mel?" she whispers, and she's maybe freaking out a little bit, "I slept with Santa."

"Brendon actually," Brendon's voice rumbled from the doorway, thick with sleep and concern.

"I have to go," she says, embarassed at being caught.

"You okay?" Brendon asks, cupping her chin so he can see her face in the dim light of the hallway.

"I--yeah," she says and nods for good measure.

"Okay," Brendon nods back, "You coming back to bed?"

"Yeah."

VIII. July

"The thing is," Sophie says, "Is that I don't know what we're doing. I mean, Brendon's already said that he doesn't want love. Right? So he's just lonely. Right?"

Blitzen snorts sympathetically and Sophie nods, handing him another carrot. He swallows the carrot down and bumps her hand with his nose. Sophie pets at him absentmindedly. Whenever she thinks about Brendon there's this sharp tug in her chest. She wonders if Brendon feels it too.
She gives Blitzen the last of the carrots and heads back to the house.

Brendon is stirring the pot cheerfully at the stove. When she stops at his side he leans down and kisses her. She wonders if he can feel the twisting in his stomach, too.

She smiles ups at him, "What cha cooking?"

"Chicken noodle soup, it's been cold lately."

"Brendon, it's the north pole. It's cold all the time."

"Colder," Brendon allowed with a wide grin.

She grins back, leaning around him to pull a chunk off the fresh bread sitting on the counter.

"I missed Tarra didn't I?" she asks with a sad sigh.

"Maybe if you spent less time with the reindeer," Brendon teases.

"Pfft, the moosi love me," she says happily while Brendon laughs.

"Get the bowls," he orders, "This is ready."

They sit across from each other and eat quietly, sharing stories. Halfway through one about Spencer and Ryan, resident Jack Frost and Baby New Year consecutively, involving Frank and a pogo stick and she stops laughing and just looks at him. She thinks, Oh.

"I love you," she says seriously, looking him straight in the eye.

Brendon drops his spoon. It bounces off the edge of his bowl, splashing broth all over the table, "Fucking Pete."

"Don't do that," she snaps, "That's-you can't blame him for how I feel."

"Oh yes I can," Brendon seethes, "He's fucking Cupid. I told him, told him not to do this."

He pushes his chair back and paces across the floor, irritated.

"Stop," she says, and hates how her voice sounds small, "I--you don't feel anything?"

"Of course I do," Brendon squares his shoulders, turns to look at her, "Of course I do, but I told you. There's nothing more important than this. Than doing what I do."

"Not even me?" she asks, and there's a pain in her chest. Her stomach twists violently.

"No," Brendon says quietly, "Not even you. It wouldn't work. I won't give this up. I won't; you can't make me."

"You're right," she says, and her eyes are stinging.

She can feel the tears falling, hot against her skin. She stumbles from the table, yanking her jacket off the chair where she'd left it. She's out the door and running before he can move. Not that it matters, he doesn't go after her.

"Take me home," she pleads to Blitzen, "Take me home, please."

IX. August

"You're an idiot," Pete says. Brendon looks at his purple Nikes and shrugs. He's not in the mood. Pete has been to the house every day since he let Sophie leave without working things out.
Personally Brendon thinks Pete's being a little selfish. He shouldn't have used Sophie to try and prove that he could be a good cupid. Make a good match. Pete as Cupid blows.

X. September

"No mom," Sophie says, "I don't think I'm going to be able to come home for the holidays. No, I'm just really behind in my classes."

"You don't call home nearly enough," her mom says from the other end of the phone line, "For a few months you were calling three times a week. What happened to that?"

Sophie pauses and thinks. She has no idea where the sea monkey went after she'd shown up to collect her life, "I just really got busy mom, I'm sorry. I promise I'll call home more."

XII. October

Sophie is drinking at the bar when a guy stumbles up and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

"Sophie!" the guy slurs, and she turns and gapes.

"Frank!" she shouts over the music, "Aren't you supposed to be visiting waiting children in pumpkin patches?"

"Oh, I'm finished with that," Frank waves a hand, "Come meet Gerard!"

Gerard is wearing all black, with unwashed hair hanging in his face. He grins wide when he sees Frank stumbling back to their table.

"Frank!"

"Gerard!"

There's a woman sitting next to Gerard holding his hand, and she rolls her eyes at the pair.

"They're always like this," she says with a laugh, "Hi, I'm Lyn-Z."

"Sophie," she waves and Lyn-Z's eyes twinkle, "Brendon's Sophie?"

"No," Sophie says, looking away.

XIII. November

She does, in fact, go home for Thanksgiving. It's a last minute decision, because she can't stand to be alone anymore. She's sitting in the backyard, hidden by the tool shed. She's bummed a smoke off the sixteen year old boy who lives next door. She's breathing deeply when Tarra pops over the hedge and settles next to her.
She chokes on the smoke, eyes watering and coughs loudly.

"Tarra?"

"See, here's the thing," Tarra says, "Brendon's kind of an idiot."

"How the hell did you get here?" Sophie asks, ignoring the remark about the boy. Tarra points and Blitzen sticks his head up over the hedge.

"How's my favorite moose?" Sophie smiles sadly. Blitzen jumps the chain link gate easily and nudges her with his nose.

"Sorry," she says, "I don't have any carrots today."

Blitzen looks at her like she's complete idiot. There has been alot of this going on lately.

"I brought you cookies," Tarra changes the subject.

On Thanksgiving Sophie sits inbetween her Great Aunt Carol and her six year old cousin Walker. Walker is smearing mashed potatoes in her mom's silk table cloth. He has gravy all over his hands and face. She doesn't remember her nephew being this gross at that age. (He'd just turned seven, the month before.)

XIV. December

Sophie shares an apartment with three other girls that she goes to school with. They've all gone home for the holidays to be with her family. Sophie had opted not to go, because she didn't want to be anywhere Brendon was inclined to show up. And he'd have to come, with her niece and nephew there. She'd sent her gifts to the family home already, and she'd already called her mom three times that week.

She hoped she was making up for being a bad daughter.

She falls asleep on the couch while watching A Christmas Story on TNT. They've been playing it all week long and she's finally given in and sat down to watch it. Scarily enough her favorite part is where they have to go eat Christmas dinner at the chinese restraunt. She always laughs when the mom says that the goose is smiling at her. She falls asleep right when the mom makes Ralphie put on the bunny suit. She has a fleeting thought that Patrick should have a costume just like him, and then she's gone.

She's not sure what woken her at first. She blinks her eyes open and settles more securely on the couch. She's just drifting off again when she feels it. A light touch on her lips, and she blinks her eyes open. Brendon's hovering above her, his hand still extended, fingers still hovering above her mouth.

"What?" she asks, voice thick. Brendon pulls back, cheeks pink from being caught.

There's a tree set up in a corner. It had been a superficial decoration; there hadn't been any gifts under it when she'd fallen asleep. When she looks at it it, its got a small pile of presents under it. She looks at it blankly.

"There are no children here," she says plaintively, and if she knew life were totally going to be unfair and Brendon was going to just, show up here she would have gone home anyway. Then she wouldn't have had to spend Christmas Eve alone.

"I come to those who believe," Brendon says, "Not just the children."

"Oh," she says, and this is totally awkward, "Well, thanks for coming. Try not to wake me next year."

"Please stop," Brendon says when she stands and starts to walk down the corridor.

"Please go," she says softly, and walks out of the room.

She's sitting on her bed when he knocks. Pushing the door open he shuffles into the room quietly and kneels infront of her.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Brendon says softly, "So sorry. I want, please."

"Stay," Sophie says, "Stay because that's what you want. Not because you think Pete did this, or because you feel bad for me."

Brendon looks down, "I can't," he says, "But I'll come back."

"Yeah," Sophie says, looking away from the back of his neck, and he climbs to his feet. He stops at the door and gives her a soft look before going.

Two days later she's sitting in the park watching it snow when someone sits down on the bench next to her. She turns and Brendon's sitting there playing with his fingers.

"Hi," he says quietly.

"Hi," she says back, smiling, "You came back."

"I did," he says, smiling too.

He takes her hand and pulls her to her feet. They walk through the park, letting the snow collect in their hair and on their eyelashes.

"When do you go back?" she asks softly.

He stops, pulling her to rest at his side, "I don't. Pete's Santa now. A guy named Jon took over as Cupid."

"You're staying? For good?" she asks and he nods, gives a bow, "I'm just Brendon Urie now."

They kiss in the snow.