Son of Santa (6 page)

“You don’t,” Fannar said. He bumped his shoulder into Noel’s. “You like doing this. You’d rather it than standing in front of a map.”

“True.” Noel shrugged. “I guess it’s different this year, because I have a purpose to be here.”

“All these people do too. And you’re helping them.” Fannar leaned in close. The air around him was chilly and smelled like fresh snow. Noel wanted to push his face against Fannar’s neck and breathe in deep. He wondered how much of home he would be able to smell. But it would be weird and crossing a boundary he shouldn’t, so he pulled back and scrunched up his nose. Fannar grinned, taking it that Noel was trying to disagree with what he was saying.

“Don’t, as they say here, front. I see you.” Fannar leaned back but put his arm over the back of the bench. His fingers tugged at the dark hairs at the nape of Noel’s neck. “You like helping because it reminds you of home.”

“It’s the part of home I like,” Noel said without meaning to. He winced as Fannar’s fingers stilled, all his attention directed at Noel. Noel refused to look at him, instead continuing to look out at the crowd. “I mean, it’s my purpose. My reason for being there. I don’t need the decorations or the songs or the movies, because that’s not home to me.” An elderly lady—
Helen Neufeld
—walked by this time, and he brushed the elbow of her green knit sweater. She pointed her husband to take a left. “This is. The spirit of giving. It’s home for me. I’ve missed
that
.”

Fannar’s fingers brushed over the skin on the back of Noel’s neck before he pulled away. “I’m glad to help you find it, at least.”

“Me too.” There was no denying it, and he enjoyed this season because of it. Fannar was a main reason why.

Fannar stood suddenly. “Come on, let’s go.” Noel stood and followed his lead, but stopped in his tracks at Fannar’s next words.

“Let’s get our picture taken with Santa.”

Noel scowled. “No. No, no. No way! Why would you—”

“It’s hilarious. I love that tradition.” Fannar grabbed his hand and dragged him the opposite way the elderly lady had gone. “It’s fun.”

“It’s ridiculous. And for children! And those aren’t the real Santa. Believe me, I know when I’m talking to my own dad.”

“How many children do you see around here? It’s eleven o’clock on a Tuesday and school isn’t out for the winter yet.”

“The picture place probably isn’t open. Why would they be?”

It was. Apparently Santa’s Village didn’t have the school district’s yearly schedule.

The picture was taken.

The fake Santa wasn’t even close to Noel’s father. But there Noel was, sitting on his knee, his face hidden in the palm of his hand. Fannar sat on the opposite knee, giving a ridiculous thumbs-up with the fakest enthusiastic smile Noel had ever seen grace his face.

Santa looked baffled, and maybe a little bit scared.

Noel pinned the picture to his fridge with a magnet, right next to his dad’s postcard from the Netherlands.

F
ANNAR
DIDN
’
T
bother buzzing to be let in anymore. He’d been able to find his way into Noel’s building. At least he knocked on the door to the apartment instead of bursting his way in. A week before Christmas, Noel wasn’t surprised to hear rapping at his door.

“Hey,” he greeted as he opened it to let Fannar in.

“Hello, hello.” Instead of going to the kitchen to help himself to a coffee or cocoa or sitting on the couch to grumble at the television, Fannar stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the map on the wall. A huge portion of the pins were already lit up, though Christmas Eve would likely be Noel’s busiest day.

Fannar rocked gently on the heels of his boots, hands clasped behind his back. When Noel came to stand beside him, Fannar gave his most charming smile. Noel blinked against its beauty.

“You can spare a couple hours tonight,” Fannar said. While not a demand, it wasn’t a question either.

“I was out in the shops already today. I’m not dealing with crowds again.” It’d been a busy day.

“I’m not asking you to—at least not with shoppers.” Fannar pouted. “However, thanks for not waiting for me.”

Noel shrugged. “Busy time of year. Can’t wait around for the likes of you.”

Fannar gestured at the map. “Where’s mine?”

“Your what?”

“My pin.”

Noel tilted his head to the side and frowned. “It’s usually for humans. And you’re not a resident of Winnipeg. And who do you get gifts for?” For all that the North Pole dealt in gift giving, the residents there didn’t usually partake in the tradition themselves. It was gift enough to pass on the spirit of it to the human realm.

“I’ve been here enough recently I could be a Winnipegger myself. Or as much of one as you, I’d say. I want my pin.”

Noel disagreed with the logic, but Fannar seemed adamant. “My gift to you, then,” Noel said as he retrieved the wooden box with the carvings on it. He opened it and took out a pin, then held it on display. Noel pushed a little bit of magic into it, and it now belonged to Fannar. “The gift of giving.”

Noel went to the map on the wall and pushed in the pin, using his own address to place it at.

It immediately lit up red.

When Noel glanced at Fannar, he smiled secretly, like he’d known exactly what was going to happen.

“What is going on?” Noel asked in wonder.

“I’m here to give you your Christmas present early. Now I don’t know if you deserve it. That rude comment about not waiting on the likes of me and all.”

“I—you—you shouldn’t have.” Noel’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting any gifts, certainly not from Fannar, plus Noel should have
known
. It was what he did. But Fannar always had been a sneaky one.

Fannar nodded firmly. “Quite right, I shouldn’t have. Naughty list for you.”

“I’m not on the naughty list.” Noel scowled. It wasn’t even a real thing.

Fannar leaned over and smirked. “I can help you with that, dear Noel.”

“You wish,” Noel replied. It was fairly blatant flirting, but Noel willed away his blush. Fannar had always teased him, and this was his new approach, friendly and flirting instead of trying to get a laugh out of his friends. Noel didn’t mind—it was he who wished it wasn’t in casual fun—it wasn’t Fannar’s true intent. It couldn’t be. He forced himself to let it go and accept this was how Fannar did friendship. And that was okay.

“Oh, how I wish indeed. Maybe I’ll help you get there some day.” Fannar playfully leered again but let all those pretenses drop away. “Seriously, I do have a gift, and we’ll have to be on our way if we want to be there in time.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I had seriously considered not, instead winding you away and taking you there as a big surprise. But then I decided you would probably be angry at me for not letting you wear your jersey. It’s what the humans do, isn’t it? I mean, you wear yours to sit on the couch.”

“Jersey?” It came out a little more hopefully than he intended, but now he had an idea as to what the gift was.

Fannar reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two tickets, then handed one over. “Merry Christmas, Noel. Get a move on. We don’t want to be late.”

Noel instantly knew what the ticket represented—there was a Jets game in Winnipeg that night—but his eyes went wide when he looked at it. “Glass seats? Seriously?” Noel had been to a handful of games in the past couple of seasons, and he and his friends usually ended up in the top section, which they didn’t mind. It was easy to see the whole game and all the plays being made, and it was a fun atmosphere. It wasn’t easy getting their hands on any tickets. But
glass seats
? “How in the gods’ names did you get these? Sorcery?”

“I may have pulled out a bit of magic here or there,” Fannar said teasingly. “Or you know, paid close attention to game day seat releases and lucked out. Does it really matter? Go get ready!”

Noel made quick work of going to his room and putting on his Jets jersey. The gift was entirely unexpected and unnecessary, but he wasn’t going to give up this opportunity. Besides, it had also been… thoughtful.

They traveled by wind, landing a block away from the arena. It was easy enough to slip into the crowd of people making their way to the game. It was an extremely cold night, which wasn’t surprising for the city this time of year, though there’d been a below-normal temperature cold snap for the past couple of weeks. Despite everyone huddling into their jackets, many with mitts, scarves, and toques proudly displaying their team’s logo, a cheery atmosphere was present inside the building.

Being the last game to be played at home before Christmas, the holiday was, of course, acknowledged. Mostly by the crowd, with more Santa hats and ugly Christmas sweaters in team colors than Noel had ever imagined could exist. He didn’t mind it. The excitement was palpable, and he was determined to enjoy his gift.

Noel and Fannar stopped for concession, Noel insisting on getting one of the foot-long hot dogs, which was also loaded with onion, bacon, and cut-up pieces of pierogies. Fannar made a face and refused to get one but gave in to share some of it.

“I’m surprised,” Fannar said as they stood at one of the tall tables in the concourse so Noel could eat without making a huge mess. “That doesn’t look like it fits into your diet.”

“Normally, no,” Noel said after swallowing a large bite. “But come on! I’m getting into the spirit of the game.”

“You won’t get into the spirit of Christmas, but you’ll get into the spirit of unhealthy arena food. Good for you.”

Noel considered arguing he was getting into the spirit of Christmas just fine, thank you very much. He’d taken on Distribution duties, after all. But his mouth was too full to argue, so he let the point drop. It wasn’t a big deal and nothing to nitpick at.

They’d also bought a couple of beers, although the human alcohol percentage wouldn’t affect either of them. Still standing at the tall table, Fannar pulled a flask from his jacket pocket. “Some of Himelon’s home brew.” He poured a little into each beer. It wasn’t much alcohol, even by North Pole standards, but it could get them a buzz at least.

Noel gaped at him. “How did you get it in here? We had to go through security. We were patted down!”

“How do you think? Magic.”

True enough, no one around them took notice of them. A security staff walked by as Fannar added another little dash to their beer, and her eyes glanced right past them. It was the same as when Fannar winded his way in and out of anywhere, suddenly appearing and suddenly gone. Humans didn’t notice the magic.

A thought crossed Noel’s mind. “You could have winded us right in here, couldn’t you? You didn’t need to buy tickets.”

Fannar shrugged. “Sure. But that’s not part of the whole experience, is it? And we couldn’t have occupied someone else’s seats. There are rules. You know that.”

Noel did know, but he had a hard time wrapping his head around the whole night to begin with. Fannar had gone through a lot of trouble for him.

“Speaking of seats,” Fannar said, “we should go find ours.”

The seats were awesome. Close to the ice, separated only by the boards and Plexiglas, Noel could feel the chill of it, smell the crispness, hear the skate blades as they cut across the surface. It was more intense, being this close to the action, seeing the checks against the boards, goals going into the net right in front of them. It was a fast-paced, hard-hitting game, and as usual the Winnipeg crowd was right into it. The whole place went nuts with a win.

“That was amazing,” Noel said as they left the arena. They walked in the direction of his apartment. The temperature had dropped even more this late at night, a deep freeze settling over the city where Celsius and Fahrenheit meet at -40, but Noel didn’t care. He was fired up from the game, bundled warmly, and he was fairly certain Fannar kept the bubble of night air around them at a tolerable temperature. “I hope you liked it.”

“It was fun. I’m glad I went.” Fannar had not been jumping and yelling nearly as much as Noel had. Apparently he was too sophisticated to pound against the glass when a fight broke out right in front of them. But Fannar had smiled or laughed at many of Noel’s reactions, a fond expression on his face.

“Me too.” Noel stopped walking and turned to Fannar. “Thank you. That was… wow. A really great present.” He laughed a little, self-deprecating. “You know, it’s not usually me who gets to say that.”

Fannar leaned in close. “Maybe it should be.”

Noel’s heart pounded rapidly. “Fannar.”

“Next time I take you on a date it’s not going to be part of a gift. It’s going to be… just because. We can keep to human traditions too, since it seemed to work. Dinner and a movie? Ice skating? They do a neat trail on the river here, don’t they?”

Noel pulled back, startled. “A date?”

Fannar frowned. “Of course. Didn’t this seem like a date to you?”

It had. Noel had tried not to think of it that way, and for the most part, he’d been able to. He knew it wasn’t. Or so he had thought. “But you and I… we don’t do that.”

“We haven’t been, but can’t we?”

Noel swallowed hard. “What makes you think that’s what I’d want?”

Fannar smiled softly. “You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve. Your grumpy hermit heart, which is more open than you probably realize.”

“It is not.”

“It is.” Fannar cupped his hand around Noel’s elbow. “And I wish I would’ve read it more carefully, sooner.”

Noel ripped his arm away, scowling, thrown off and defensive at the attention. “Why are you here? Why are you doing this after all this time? Can’t we go back to the way it used to be? When you ignored me?”

“I never ignored you, Noel.”

“No, but it was never
this
. And this feels more cruel than when you used to tease me.” It was cruel because it didn’t make sense. There was no way a beautiful ice sprite should be interested in the once-chubby and still extremely grumpy Son of Santa. It didn’t… it just couldn’t be.

“For the love of gods, Noel, I’m not being cruel. I’m trying to be nice, because I want to be. To you.”