plurk meme { 2020 } christmas shenanigans

[iluvroadrunner6]

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Word Count: 31,200

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and all the fun we had last year | freya & vincent | 1,661

[deathlessness]

“This is a terrible idea.”

A cool breeze floats through the mall parking lot as Vincent and Freya make their approach. Freya wraps her coat around herself at Vincent’s words, eyeing the approaching parents who are gathering at the mall’s front door. Freya knows this is a terrible idea. She knows that she could be home, in bed with her wife, fast asleep, but instead, she is here, preparing for her first holiday rush.

If she had any say, it would be her last, but she knows that that may not be the case with a child.

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Did you try looking online?”

“Do you think I would be here if I could find it anywhere online that would ship before New Year’s?”

Vincent huffs, eyeing the line of people as he and Freya inserted themselves into the flow. After they open those doors, it’s going to be a madhouse bum rush towards the item in question, and they’re going to have to be on their A-game.

“We could not get it.”

Freya turns and looks at him like he has two heads. “Not get it?”

“He’s five, Freya. One year of Nik not getting what he wants for Christmas won’t scar him for life.”

“And what will we tell him?”

“That Santa isn’t perfect.” Vincent points out. “A lesson he’s going to have to learn sooner or later. Along with the fact that there isn’t a Santa.”

Freya holds up a finger. “Hope told me that that might not be one hundred percent true.”

Vincent pauses before turning to look at her. “What?”

“There was an incident with Malivore and Krampus, but honestly, it might have been a strange monster fever dream.”

Vincent stares at her for a long time. Long enough to make her feel uncomfortable with it all. “Come again.”

“Krampus captured him, and then Krampus got thrown into Malivore long ago, but … he’s … fine now.”

The other witch folds his hands in front of his mouth, his stare boring down into her even more intensely. It’s a look he hasn’t given her since they were on less-good terms, and she almost takes a step back. Almost.

“If Santa is real, what are we doing here, Freya?”

Freya huffs. “Because I want to get my son the toy he wants, and this is the only place I could find it, alright? And you are here because two sets of hands mean two chances we might wind up with one. Now. Can we do this, please?”

Vincent takes one last deep breath before nodding. “Fine. Fine. So long as you promise me that next time, I get to be the one who babysits, and you and Keelin can handle this insanity.”

“Deal,” Freya nods as the doors to the mall open, and people begin flowing inside. “Besides, we’re two powerful witches. How hard could it be?”

“Famous last words,” Vincent mutters under his breath before tucking his arm in Freya’s to keep her close.

- - - - -

They cross the threshold of the mall and dash towards the toy store in question. Mobs of people have already flooded the front of the store, so much so she can see the associate who opened the door using it as a shield as the poor teenager stays between the door and the front window display, eyes wide.

More veteran associates are managing to sidestep the thrust of the crowd, setting up Christmas displays or sleepily resting against the register, less impressed with the spectacle of it all. Freya’s arm stays tucked in Vincent’s as they approach where the mob is moving, a tall back wall lined with the toy in question.

One of the associates is standing on a ladder, trying to contain the crowd while not falling and breaking something simultaneously. They’re only managing the latter half of that task because their coworker stands beneath them, steadying the ladder.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Please move in a calm and orderly fashion!”

The two witches survey the scene, and Vincent turns to Freya. “Looks like everyone’s going for the middle, not so much on the sides.”

Freya nods. “You take the left; I’ll take the right? Meet you at the register when the smoke clears?”

Vincent nods before squeezing her hand gently. “Good luck.” And with that, off he goes into the crowd.

Freya inches her way to the right, trying to get as close as she can. She’s slim enough to fit into unexpected spaces – yoga helps – but at the same time, she can’t manage to get her fingers on the waxy cardboard of the toy box. She can feel it, sliding under her fingers, yet she can’t seem to get her fingers around it.

As she makes her way to the front, the shelves are becoming more and more barren. As she looks across the dearth of space, she sees one box sitting in the middle, roughly equidistant between herself and Vincent, though Vincent is closer. Another shopper starts to make her approach, hands outstretched, and on instinct, Freya throws out a hand.

The force of magic shoves the box down the metal shelf, sliding towards Vincent’s open hands. He reaches out, trying to grab ahold of it, when one of the other shoppers reaches out, snatching it off the shelf. Freya’s eyes widen before narrowing in the face of her target. She drops her shoulders and starts to stalk towards the shopper in question, and Vincent is quick to intercept her, pulling her back against him.

“Freya, no.”

“That was our toy.”

“It was almost our toy,” he sighs.

“It would have been our toy if she hadn’t gotten her grubby hands on it.”

“Maybe, but that’s still not a reason to go all Mikaelson witch on her.”

Eventually, the tension melts from her shoulders, and she slumps back against him. She then turns to glance back at the shelves to see that they’re not completely bare, in less than five minutes.

“We were so close.”

Vincent squeezes her shoulders before nodding. “I know. I know. But sometimes, that’s how it rolls.” He then looks down at her with a small smile. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll buy you breakfast, and we can head home to wrap the enormous pile of gifts we’ve already gotten him.”

Freya takes a deep breath before nodding. “I do like pancakes.”

Vincent smirks before turning to lead her out of the store. “Pancakes it is.”

- - - - - -

By the time they arrive back at the Abattoir, Nik is already fast asleep. Fortunately for the parents, Nik’s young enough that eight o’clock is a late enough bedtime. Once they arrange all the presents around the tree, Freya, Vincent and Keelin sit back with glasses of bourbon, and Keelin shakes her head.

“That is a ridiculous amount of presents.”

“He’s five,” Freya replies, nursing the drink. “He’ll make use out of most of them until they break.”

“Do we want to make a wager on how long that is going to take?” Vincent asks. “Is he up to six months now before things start breaking?”

Keelin shakes her head. “I’m going to say at least eight. We can hope for progress in the new year.”

“I’ll take the under, then. Four months.” Freya nods. “When you’re a Mikaelson, you prepare for the worst.”

Vincent snorts. “What are we wagering?”

“Babysitting time.” The two women reply simultaneously, and he laughs before reaching for one of the cookies on a nearby plate.

“Fair enough.”

Freya tips her head back, and she’s about to make some dry joke when she’s distracted by an odd sort of sparkle that streaks over the courtyard. Her brow furrows as she sits up, watching as it disappears onto the other side of the house.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?” Vincent frowns, trying to follow her eye line. Keelin shakes her head at the both of them before getting to her feet.

“If you see things, it’s time for you to get some actual sleep.”

“Uh-huh,” Freya nods, though, from the look on her face, it’s clear that she’s not intent on actually following. Keelin shakes her head before turning to Vincent.

“You staying here tonight?”

Vincent nods. “Figured it’d be good to be here for presents.”

“Alright. Then I will see you both in the morning.” Keelin takes her empty glass and disappears back into the compound, heading to her room to sleep.

Freya can feel Vincent continuing to watch her before he finally asks: “You’re not thinking …?”

Freya finally tears her eyes away to look at him. “Stranger things have happened?”

The two of them get to their feet and quietly wind their way towards the Christmas tree in the alcove. As they peek around the corner, they find that there is a tall, portly man in front of their tree, leaving small, well-wrapped presents in place. They both look up at each other, eyes wide with surprise before the man turns to look at them with a soft chuckle.

“Merry Christmas,” he smirks, with a wink. “Tell Hope I said hello.”

And with that, he disappears in a shower of sparkles, that drift and heads back up the chimney. The room goes quiet once again, and the two of them sit there in silence, trying to rationalize what just happened.

“ … Do you think that was …?” Freya asks, and he cuts her off before she can continue.

“We have not had enough bourbon for that conversation.”

Freya nods before glancing back to where they were sitting. “To the bourbon, then?”

Vincent hesitates. “Maybe Keelin was right. Maybe we should head to sleep.”

“We just saw Santa Claus. Are we really going to be able to sleep?”

Vincent nods slowly before making his way back to the courtyard. “You’re right. Bourbon it is.”