vocab_drabbles | 38: Convivial - Holiday/Fairy Tale Classics

Title: He Won't!
Fandom: Public Domain/Holiday Classics/Fairy Tale Classics/Original
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 500
Characters/Pairings: Mr. and, to a small extent, Mrs. C
Warnings: Real!Fairy Tales
Summary: He won't give up.

They say he's always convivial, but they couldn't be further from the truth. He hurts every day as he watches the Naughty list grow by proverbial leaps and bounds and the Nice list, the one with the actual good, untainted children, shrink ever more. His greatest fear has changed over the centuries from not being able to provide for every good child to being unable to provide because there is no one left to whom to give a gift, either because they've failed to deserve it or because life in this cruel, and always growing more cruel, world has stolen their innocence and right to belief from them.

"I see," he says with a heavy sigh, practically feeling a white strand of hair fall out of his head and one, or perhaps more this time, turn in his beard to ashen gray from the snowy white that's always been a part of his trademark appearance. "Well, I thank you, Cindy, for trying one more year. Yes, yes, I know it's not the same, but the children need us more now than ever before, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, it is horrible -- " He feels a hundred tiny, beady eyes upon him and wishes the Elves would go elsewhere. Usually, he's thankful for their companionship, but he doesn't want them to hear the fairy tale Queen on the other end of the line. He doesn't want them to know how terrible the world in which they must live has become. He doesn't want them to know that dreams are dying and innocence fading rapidly away even from the youngest of the mortals. He doesn't want them to hurt like he's hurting.

"They did WHAT to Gus?!" He doesn't mean to bark, but he can scarcely believe what he's hearing! Actually, he can believe that somebody caught the little guy and tried to feed him to Lucifer -- a modern boy even --, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to believe that even the children are already turning into wretched, little beings. Before long, he thinks, glancing at the shrinking Nice list, there really will not be any left to whom to give a gift.

He closes his eyes that are turning as red as his round nose. "Yes, yes, I understand. Yes. Well, hopefully next year will be better. I do see that -- Okay. Goodbye."

He hangs up the phone and is silent for a long minute before, upon feeling the Elves around his study begin to move, declaring, "There are still toys that need making!" Even the smallest and oldest have fled before he opens his eyes to see his cherished wife poking her head in.

"Gingerbread and milk, Santa?"

"Yes, please," he agrees, sighing heavily, "with extra ginger." And rum, he almost says, but no, he won't succumb. Just because the whole rest of the world seems bent on going evil or giving up doesn't mean it has to touch their safe, northern most corner of the world. He won't!

The End