Chapter Text
It was a quiet night, that holiday night. Susie asleep in bed, that other guest taking the guest room per Otto’s orders, and you had to play the role of Santa. It wasn’t hard to sneak downstairs with half the presents wrapped and prepared for Susie. The hard part was making sure nothing dropped- dropping a present could range in results, from Susie awakening and realizing early that you do not, in fact, get visits from Tim Allen in a fat suit, to the present itself being damaged.
You thought this fate would befall some random gift that had slipped from your grip, but a mechanical claw caught it just in time. You looked up to see Otto there, clad in pajamas and lacking his glasses due to the soft lights of the room. He grinned, cracking, “I thought Santa would be a bit more careful.”
“Oh, hush,” You hissed, “For that, you have to get the rest of the presents. They’re in my room in my closet. Can’t miss them.”
He sighed, “Fair enough. I can lend a hand or two.”
“You have six.”
“Four at the very least,” He shrugged, a claw clicking.
The mechanical arms made short work of arranging the gifts beneath the tree, one making sure that all were perfectly arranged. Otto groaned as it gently tapped a present, adjusting its position, “Would you stop that? It looks fine.”
“Guess they want it perfect for little Susie,” You said casually, picking up a cookie from the plate as you sat down. The doctor noticed and crossed his flesh arms, “Some Santa you are. What about all the other kids in the world?”
“They’re not as good as mine,” You said with a mouth full of chocolate chips and baked batter, “Mine brings home supervillains instead of detentions.”
Otto couldn’t help but chuckle at that, picking up the plate of cookies and glass of milk, tilting his head to read the letter Susie left.
“She asked for Norman’s presents too,” He quietly said.
“It was last minute,” You respond, “She wanted to go see Santa but I talked her out of it. I’m quite the negotiator.”
“You’d hold up in court well,” Octavius sat down, having a claw hold the plate of cookies as he took one. He popped the entire cookie in his mouth (they’re about Chips Ahoy sized) before taking a sip of milk.
“I was going to have the milk,” You fake-whined, making a pouty face. He almost choked on it. He swallowed before speaking, “This Santa carried more presents than you, Santa. He gets the milk.”
“I only have two little arms!” You whisper yelled, flailing your arms a bit. He handed the milk off to another arm as he giggled, grabbing hold of your hands. You felt your face get hot at the contact, feeling his left thumb run over the back of your right hand. His hands felt a bit calloused and worn, yet there was a gentleness, a softness to them. His gaze was not at your face, but rather those two little arms of yours-
“And what wonderful two little arms they are.”
Your mind raced with ideas on what to do next, yet at the same time couldn’t produce them, like an artist stuck without their tools in a place of inspiration. Thus, you went with plan B- saying whatever blurts out.
“You’ve got cooler bigger arms.”
That definitely matches the tender moment Otto tried to have with you, yes.
He seems caught off guard by your statement, “I… Suppose so, yes. They’re metal too. Not my actual ones- those are still fleshy. You knew that though.”
“I did.”
“I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?”
“Pretty sure we both did,” You reassured, letting go of his hand to reach for a cookie on the plate. The arm moves the plate slightly out of reach.
“Hey- you stop that, I need cookies!” You hissed.
“They have minds of their own,” Otto defended, yet a part of you felt he was lying. You reached again, and the arm pulled the plate back.
“Minds of their own better obey Pama, because Pama needs a cookie!” You order softly. Otto starts to giggle, “Third person? Really?”
“Parent thing. Since they’re acting like babies,” You remark sassily, yet you pay dearly for the sass. The arm seems to be relenting at first, allowing access to the treasure of chocolate chips, yet suddenly pulls back, making you lurch forward.
You collide with Otto’s chest. Not in a ‘bus colliding with a wall’ kind of way, more like… a toy bus hitting a pillow. Pretty sure you heard a ‘paff’. The lack of contact with other adults had driven you to a sense of touch starvation, and you won’t lie when you say you didn’t want a good hug here and there. The doctor’s chest was so warm, so soft, in a way no heated pillow could match. You could hear his heartbeat, rapid at the sudden collision, breathing hitched for the same reason. You sat there for a whole minute, face buried between his pecs, before you felt weight upon your back. His hands rested there, index finger tracing little circles near your spine. You moved your head slowly, facing the Christmas tree, glowing softly with ornaments both handmade and purchased hanging from its branches. There was a comfortable silence between you both, listening to his heartbeat and melting into the mere embrace of the man. That is, until you softly asked-
“Otto?”
“Yes?” He replied in a low whisper.
“What did you write in your letter? I know you wrote one. Susie made you.”
He thought for a moment, “I wished… I wished that I could stay here, with you and Susie and the math tutoring… Hopefully forever. I know we don’t last forever, but… it’s a wish, after all.”
You chuckled, “That sounds…”
You trailed off, thinking. You were about to say ‘ridiculous’, yet the way he said it made you feel… Warm inside. The fact that he wanted to stay, the fact that he liked this life rather than trying to blow up the city… It was nice, somehow.
“That sounds nice,” You finally said.
Both of you sat there the rest of the night, with you watching the tree and Otto falling asleep, the arms limp and resting as well.