Archive of Our Own

ONE:

Even’s friends are assholes.

They insisted he come out to this party in the first place, and now that he’s here, they've left him all alone to fend for himself in a strangers house. The last he saw of Mutta he was hooking up with some girl by the stairs, Adam and Mikael could have very possibly ditched, Yousef didn’t come, and Elias… well, Elias is just nowhere.

So that leaves Even, standing in the corner and awkwardly making conversation with a nice girl who is more drunk than what he can probably handle. He has no idea how to handle college parties, considering he has never been to college, or even high school. It’s not like being born and raised in the North Pole working for Santa Claus as a Little Helper really prepares you for what life in the human world is really like.

The other thing that he wasn’t prepared for, was all the shit that was plastered everywhere about Santa’s elves, which do every job apparently. Which shouldn’t make him as bitter as it does, because it’s fine, it’s not like he is allowed to get any recognition for his job anyway, but still. He’s a Little Helper, not an elf. He’s 6’2 for crying out loud, he’s not even little in any sense of the word.

Right now though, he just really wants to leave, because he’s growing more uncomfortable by the second.

He’s ready to head toward the door—to bail on his friends the same way they bailed on him—when someone just arriving catches his eye.

And oh my god, he is beautiful. He looks like a walking wet dream, tight jeans paired with a stupid fuckboy jacket, and the most beautiful curls he has ever seen.

He knows from the way that his stomach flutters with butterflies and his palms go all clammy that there is no way he will have the courage to go over and talk to him this evening, and that he is doomed from admiration from afar.

The boy walks in surrounded by a group of his friends, a smirk playing on his lips. He oozes charm and confidence, making Even’s heart skip a beat.

A slightly creepy feeling appears in his stomach, so instead of staring at the most gorgeous boy to grace this planet some more, Even decides to say goodbye to the girl who is slowly getting closer to him and make a hasty retreat to the kitchen for more alcohol.

It’s just his luck that the boy follows him into the kitchen, appearing in the doorway.

Even tries to act busy by mixing himself a drink, but he's not paying attention to what he actually has in his hands. He’s too busy actively trying not to stare at the boy.

“Do you drink beer and tequila together often?”

Even’s gaze snaps back over his shoulder. “Huh?”

The boy nods toward his cup, then gestures toward the bottles in his hands. “You're pouring beer and tequila together.”

“Oh,” Even quickly sets both bottles down, giving him an awkward smile. “I guess I’m a little drunk. I didn't even notice.”

“Been there, man,” pretty boy winces playfully. “I once drank orange juice and whiskey. Worst hangover of my life, puking that shit up.”

Even shouldn't be as endeared as he is.

“I’m Isak,” the boy—Isak—adds. “I haven't seen you before.”

“This isn't my usual scene,” Even says. “I’m Even.”

“Even,” Isak tests, nodding. “You know Sana, right?”

“Sana?” Even is too busy marveling the small gaps between Isak’s teeth and the brightness to his eyes to work out who they're talking about.

“Sana Bakkoush?” Isak clarifies.

“Oh,” Even tries to snap himself out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Her brother, Elias, is one of my best friends.”

“Cool,” Isak reaches around Even to grab a bottle of beer, and gives him a nod. “I’ll see you around?”

Before Even has the chance to respond, Isak is already gone. He’s already cursing himself out for his inability to be smooth, because he just had the boy of his dreams standing in front of him and he was too awkward to keep the conversation going. He pours the remnants of his failed mixed drink down the sink and turns to the fridge to pull a beer out, so that he doesn’t look completely out of place at this party.

He can't seem to take his eyes off of Isak after that.

Isak is currently chatting with a boy that Even doesn't recognize. It’s irrational, the burning jealousy that brews in the pit of his stomach as he watches the boy lean in close to Isak. He has no claim on Isak, he’s barely even spoken to him, but he doesn't want anyone else making any romantic advances either.

He curls his free hand into a fist, setting his jaw. There’s a familiar sensation just under the surface of his skin, itching to break free. His magic.

Using his magic in public (for such a selfish reason, no less) would be a blatant abuse of his abilities. But.

But Isak is so pretty and that boy is acting way too flirtatious, and Even needs to put an end to it right now. His mind made up, he flicks his index finger in a quick motion that no one else would think twice about.

The cup in the boy’s goes flying, and the contents splash across Isak’s shirt.

Even watches it all unfold from his place across the room, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He feels guilty at first, but then he notices the flicker of something resembling relief on Isak’s face when the boy steps away, and satisfaction begins to replace the guilt in his chest.

This is his chance to do something, to be smooth and swoop in and help Isak out. However, at his core, Even is not a smooth person, and he winds up stumbling across the room like an idiot. And when he’s finally in front of Isak, he finds himself at a loss for words.

“Even?” Isak asks.

“Um,” Even’s mouth suddenly feels like it's been stuffed full of cotton. “I—”

“Could you maybe grab me some tissues?” Isak asks, either not noticing or choosing to ignore how awkward Even is being.

“Tissues, yeah. I can get tissues,” Even manages, reaching out for Isak’s wrist. “Come on.”

Isak, to his credit, is a lot smoother than Even, because he moves his hand at the last second so that Even isn’t grabbing his wrist but instead his hand, tangling their fingers together and smiling.

“The bathrooms upstairs I think,” Even says, beginning to weave the two of them through the crowd of intoxicated people around them.

“Yeah it is,” Isak says. “This is my friend Vilde’s house.”

“Oh?” Even tries to keep his voice casual. He’s only now realizing that he isn't even sure that Isak is interested in boys. “Is she just a friend?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Isak snorts. “I’m too gay for her, and she's too gay for me.”

Even’s heart begins to sing in relief. He shuts the door behind them once they arrive at the bathroom, reaching for the first absorbent thing that he can find—a hand towel that he can only hope Vilde’s family won't miss.

He begins to dab at the wet spot, biting back the I’m sorry on the tip of his tongue. Isak won't understand what he's apologizing for, and frankly, he doesn't know what kind of bullshit might come spewing out of his mouth since he seems to lose his self-control around him.

“You know,” Isak leans back against the vanity. He’s smirking as he watches Even, not taking his eyes off of him. “It might be easier if I just take my shirt off, right?”

Even’s eyes blow wide. He’s very ready to agree to that, but the bathroom door swings open, effectively cutting him off before he can.

One of the boys that Isak arrived with pushes past them, drops to his knees in front of the toilet, and begins a rather disgusting dry heaving to throwing up sequence. Even pities him.

“Jonas,” Isak groans, “seriously?”

“Bro, Mahdi challenged me to—” another heave, “the shot challenge.”

“You always lose, and it always ends up like this for you.” Isak sends Even an apologetic glance, shaking his head. “He never learns. I should take him home.”

“Are you good to drive?” Even asks skeptically.

Isak cracks a grin. “Uber, man. It’s fucking brilliant.”

-

TWO:

There’s nothing that Even hates more than his fucking job.

He has to squeeze himself into red and green tights and a stupid tunic covered with flouncy patterns every afternoon, as well as having to wear an itchy hat with obnoxiously large fake ears just to complete the image. Every single day for almost two whole months, he stands around herding little children into a line to wait for a photo with a slightly overweight man with a shitty fake beard.

Sometimes, there’s even fake paper snow which gets everywhere. He has to take two showers to get that shit out of his hair, and even then he always misses a piece or two anyways.

And for some reason, Mikael loves all of it.

“Isn't it just magical?” Mikael sighs, leaning against an oversized fake candy cane. “It never gets old, does it?”

“Yes,” Even says blankly, “it does. It got old on November 2nd.”

“But we started work on November 1st?”

“Exactly.”

He sighs, gesturing to the next family to come forward in preparation for their photo with Santa. That was the job that he did for two whole months. He, Even Bech Næsheim, official Santa’s Little Helper and resident of the North Pole, was a mall elf.

“Mikael,” he hisses, quietly enough so no one else can hear them, “we live at the fucking North Pole. How are you still amused by this shit?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Mikael shrugs, purposefully shaking his head to jingle the little bell on his hat. It brings an instant smile to his face. “Exploitative and capitalistic, but sweet.”

“The children are sweet,” Even agrees, “but their parents turn into beasts the moment Santa needs a break.”

The children and working with his best friend everyday are the only perks of the job. He loves watching their faces light up when they catch a glimpse of Santa, and listening to their excited ramblings as they pour their hearts out to the holiday icon.

The holiday icon this year, right now is another teenager, dressed up in a shitty fake beard and a red suit which has been heavily stuffed with cushioning to make him look overweight. He’s apparently the grandson of the usual mall Santa, who called in sick at the last minute and got his grandson to fill in because no one else could. The teenager’s name is Magnus, and even though he doesn’t even look close to the age of what a usual mall Santa looks like, the kids seem to love him, so that’s good enough for Even.

“I still think we should make these hats part of our real uniforms,” Mikael hums. “You have to admit, they're entertaining.”

“They're annoying,” Even deadpans, “and itchy.”

“I could describe you the same way.”

“Wow,” Even says dryly, “good one, Mikael.”

“Why are you acting like such a Scrooge today?” Mikael asks, raising his brows. “I’m used to this attitude, but it seems worse today.”

“I’m not acting like a Scrooge...”

“You know Even, I really thought you would be one for the Christmas spirit,” a voice cuts in. Even looks up sharply.

“Isak?”

“No, Santa,” Isak teases. “Who else, Even?”

Isak’s standing there in front of him, dressed in a cozy looking sweater and jeans, with glasses on that make him look cuter than Even would have even thought possible. He has to will his heart to stop fluttering wildly in his chest.

Mikael looks between the two of them, his eyes widening as he puts the pieces together about Even’s supposed grumpy mood all morning.

“What brings you to Santa’s Village?” Even forces out, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

Isak tilts his head down, gesturing to the boy at his side and ruffling his curls. “This is Felix, my nephew. Felix, this is Even.”

Felix immediately narrows his eyes at Even, looking him up and down as if to assess what he’s dealing with.

“Are you a real elf?”

“I am,” Even nods, though it pains him. He’s not an elf back home; he's a helper. There's a difference, a big one, and if it wouldn't break every code of the North Pole, he’d explain that to all the ignorant humans.

“No you’re not,” Felix says decisively, narrowing his eyes and assessing Even up and down. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Felix,” Isak gives his nephew a stern look. “Don't interrogate the elf.”

“He's not an elf!” Felix insists, crossing his arms.

“We’ve talked about this,” Isak says in a low voice. “Sometimes, the mall has Santa’s helpers work as elves, since the real elves are busy making toys.”

Even’s heart stops beating.

“But he's an elf!” Felix points toward Mikael confidently. “I can tell! Why isn’t he off making toys?”

“Felix, don’t make jokes like that. People don’t like it when you insult their height,” Isak says scoldingly. Even has to stifle his laugh.

“He's right though,” Mikael walks over to them from the other side of the room, nodding as he comes. “I am an elf. Now come on kid, time to get your photo with Santa, considering someone’s not doing their job properly and holding up the queue.”

“They’re the only ones in line,” Even retorts, offering Isak an apologetic smile as Mikael guides Felix back to Santa. “Do you want to go listen in?”

“I don't need to,” Isak shakes his head, “he’s actually already seen Santa twice this year.”

“It’s November,” Even points out.

“I know,” Isak winces. “He fucking loves Christmas though, and he keeps insisting that none of the Santas and elves are right, so he wants to go and see all of them until he finds the right one.”

“Maybe he’ll get to go to the actual North Pole someday. He could see the real Santa and all his elves there,” Even says casually, testing the waters. If Isak’s nephew is such a believer, then maybe he is too?

“The day that reindeer fly, sure,” Isak chuckles, looking over at Felix, who was being led into Santa’s Grotto by Mikael, who turned around and winked at him before pushing the kid through the bejewelled curtains.

“I wish I’d known you were going to show up at my work today,” Even says, pointing toward his head. “I would have put on my good hat for you.”

“I think you look cute,” Isak smiles, reaching up to knock the little bell at the end. “It exudes Christmas spirit.”

“I’m wearing tights. In public.”

“At least the tights make your legs look good,” Isak comments. “You've got incredible thighs.”

Even’s cheeks pinken at the compliment. “I didn't realize you had a thing for elves.”

“I don't,” Isak smirks back, “I have a thing for Santa’s little helpers.”

The bejewelled curtains twinkled again as Mikael and Felix walked back through, hand in hand. Felix is chatting away animatedly and expressively about something. Mikael’s clearly stifling his laughter, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he says, “Felix told Santa all about what he wanted.

“Did he really?” Isak asks doubtfully. “Or did he deliver another lecture about what the real Santa is like, and ask about where he could contact him.”

“Well…” Mikael trails off. “He told me what he wants, and I’ll get the message right to Santa. I’m a real elf, after all.”

“A real elf?” Isak echoes, looking at him warily.

“He's a real elf, Issy! A proper one, from the North Pole and everything!” Felix nods rapidly.

Isak frowns down at Felix. “What did I just tell you?”

“It’s not because of his height Uncle Issy, I promise. I know that’s rude.” Felix says, curling his fists up into little balls and pouting.

Isak turns to Mikael, giving him an apologetic smile. “Dude, I am so sorry about this.”

Mikael just brushes him off with a wave of his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it bro. It comes with the job.”

Behind him, Even chokes on his laugh.

Felix ignores them all and babbles on. “Anyway, I couldn’t tell Santa what I wanted because Uncle Mags is Santa this year and then he would just tell you and then I wouldn’t get to know whether Santa was real or not.”

Isak’s eyes widen. “What?”

“He even gave me an extra lollipop if I promised not to tell you, but I figure I can get you to buy me a hot chocolate as well if I tell you.”

“Oh, this is too perfect,” Isak laughs. “I need to get a fucking picture of him.”

Felix pouts. “I don't want to see Uncle Mags again. I want hot cocoa.”

“It will only be five seconds Felix, alright,” Isak says, glancing up at Even. “Can you just…”

“Yeah sure, go on,” Even says. “Go and get your blackmail photo.”

The moment Isak is gone, Even bends down to look Felix dead in the eye. “Gimme a high five,” he says. Felix shoots him a look, but still gives him the high five promptly. Instead of just letting him hit his palm, Even curls his fingers around Felix’s little hand the moment that it makes contact, looking for the spot in his chest where his magic resides and pushing.

The little boy watches in sheer fascination as there’s a sudden whirl around them. There are tiny little snowflakes falling around them, and when he looks back at what had once been the shop, there's a beautiful view of the real Christmas Village.

Although it’s only November, the North Pole is already illuminated by the best Christmas lights. It’s a sight that Even never gets tired of.

“Woah,” Felix breathes, gaping at Even. “Is this…?”

“Yeah. This is the North Pole.”

Felix’s eyes widen as he takes in his surroundings. “Woah! This is so cool!”

“That’s just for you,” Even says quietly. “No one else can see this.”

“For me?” Felix looks back toward the shop again. “Can Uncle Issy see too?”

“Well, Uncle Issy isn’t a true believer in the magic of Christmas yet. Not like you are. So we have to wait a while before we show him.”

Felix nods in understanding, “Can you make him believe? I want him to see this too!”

Even leans closer, “I’m working on it,” he whispers, finally letting go of his hand. Just as quickly as the scene appeared, it’s gone again.

Felix looks up at him with wide eyes and the biggest grin on his face. Mikael is leaning against the wall, grinning.

“You really are a real elf, aren’t you,” Felix says wistfully, turning around to face Mikael.

“I really am kid.”

“Got it!” Isak stumbles back out of the little meet and greet grotto, still smirking. “That's going to be prime blackmail material for years to come.”

“We aim to please here at Santa’s Village,” Even chuckles. “You should stop by again soon.”

“Maybe I will,” Isak says, winking at Even. Then he looks toward Felix, offering out his hand. “Come on, little man. Let’s get you that cocoa.”

“Can Even come?” Felix asks hopefully.

“Even has work,” Isak shakes his head, but there’s the hint of a hopeful look in his eyes, like he’s trying not to get his hopes up. It makes Even’s heart soar with giddiness.

“I’ll come when I’m on my break,” he says, smiling. Felix immediately perks up.

“Can you have your break now?” He asks. Mikael immediately gets a wicked look on his face.

“Sorry little guy,” Mikael says, moving over closer to Felix. “Break time is up to the mall Santa”

Isak’s face pales, and Even immediately knows what he is trying to do. Felix places his tiny hands on his hip, a determined look in his eyes. “Uncle Mags!” He calls, already stomping his way back through the curtain. Isak follows him through, back to where Magnus is most likely shedding his stuffing ready for his perfectly timed break.

Mikael breaks down into hysteric laughter as soon as Isak leaves the room. He clutches his stomach, sinking down into one of the decorated chairs. “Holy shit, this is the best day ever.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“But how Isak said he has a thing for you. Now that’s fucking brilliant.”

“He said he has a thing for Santa’s little helpers,” Even says, rolling his eyes.

“What’s the difference,” Mikael teases back, pulling out his phone from his back pocket. An awkward silence settles itself over the room as Even fidgets with his hands, knowing that what he says next will doom him to a lifetime of teasing from Mikael.

“So, uh, what did Felix say he wanted anyway?”

Mikael grins, his eyes glinting. “Oh this and that, a bike, a new XBOX, his cool uncle to get a boyfriend like his mamma Lea got because that made his mamma Lea happy and he wants uncle Isak to be happy like his mamma.”

“Well, two of those things can definitely happen for him,” Even says, ignoring the suggestive look on his friend’s face.

“You're right. We can get him a bike and have you and Isak dating by Christmas morning, but the XBOX I think is a bit much.”

Even shoots him a look, raising his eyebrows, but before he can say anything, Felix comes strutting back into the room with a triumphant smile on his face.

“Uncle Mags says you should take your break right now and come get hot cocoa with us.”

Mikael, sensing that he has done enough meddling for one day, quietly slips into the back room with Magnus.

“You don't have to,” Isak says quietly, for only Even to hear. “He’ll bombard you with all sorts of questions, and I’m sure you don't want to spend you break dealing with that.”

Even grins unabashedly. “How do you like your coffee?”

“I don't, actually,” Isak admits, smiling right back at him. “I’m more of a hot chocolate guy, honestly, but I tell everyone it’s coffee so I look like an adult.”

“Really?” Even tries not to sound too excited, but hot chocolate is a staple holiday beverage, and he finally feels there might not be as long to go to convince Isak of the spirit of Christmas. “Me too.”

(And when he returns to work an hour later, putting up with Mikael’s endless teasing is worth it.)

-

THREE:

Even should be sleeping. He wants to be sleeping, but he’s got four cups worth of fully caffeinated coffee pumping through his veins.

He worked a double shift at the mall that night, which meant dealing with more angry parents, fussy children, and incidents involving various bodily fluids than usual. It was miserable, and in the moment, he hadn't thought twice about chugging down coffee to get through the next few hours.

Right now, he was extremely regretting that decision.

When the clock displayed 3:00 and he was still doing nothing but fidgeting around in bed, he decided to try and walk the rush out.

It’s freezing in Oslo, but for once he doesn't mind the cold.

He doesn’t really know where he’s going, trusts that if he gets lost he will be able to Google maps his way back home.

Somehow, he ends up at the park—the same one that hosts an annual Christmas celebration. It's a family event that Even remembers going to with his cousins when he was younger; with plenty of festive food and drinks, carolers, and real life reindeer.

He notices the reindeer first, all milling about in their small pen. He feels a pang of pity for them being all cooped up, and it stirs up a bit of homesickness too. Oslo is where he spends a good amount of his time, but he can't help missing the magic of the North Pole.

Even is so lost in his thoughts as he wanders through the now empty park that he almost doesn't notice a figure sitting on a bench just a few feet ahead. He squints at the person, pausing his steps. He’s really not up for getting mugged tonight, and he should probably walk away as quickly as he can, but there's something familiar about the person.

He squints, and when the hood of the person’s sweatshirt falls back, he instantly recognizes the silhouette of those princely curls.

It’s Isak.

Isak’s just sitting there. On a park bench, alone, at around four in the morning. There’s a cup of something in his hand which he sips from intermittently as he stares at the reindeer in front of him.

Even blanks.  His mind stalls, but his feet start to move, and before he even realizes what’s happening he's sitting on the bench beside him.

“Come here often?” He asks, his voice a pitch higher than normal.

Isak turns to face him, and his expression turns pleasantly surprised when he realizes who he is. “Even? Fuck, I was just thinking about you!”

His movements are a little slow, his words even slower, and that’s all it takes for Even to realise that whatever Isak is drinking is most definitely alcoholic.

“You were?” He leans over, peeking into his cup. Eggnog. Of course. “I’m guessing you made a visit to the adults only food truck.”

“I needed to,” Isak raises the cup to his lips, taking another drink. “How else was I going to make it through listening to the children’s choir caroling?”

“Is Felix part of that?” Even wonders.

Isak makes a noise Even can't quite distinguish. “No. Thank fuck.”

“So why are you here?”

Isak’s face shutters. “When I was little, my mum would take me every year to see the reindeer in the park and then we would watch the sunrise together.”

“Is she…?” Even trails off.

“No,” Isak hesitates. “Sometimes I think she might as well be, though. She's not that person most of the time. She's—she’s sick.”

Even’s chest physically aches for him. “I’m so sorry. Do you still get to come here with her?”

“Yeah, but we can’t go early in the morning like we used to. I like to come and do it anyway.”

Even reaches out and takes his hand. Isak lets him, wrapping their fingers together tightly. A comfortable silence settles over the two of them, as they stare at the reindeer in front of them and watch them kind of potter around,

His mind kind of drifts off as Isak rests his head on his shoulder, as he thinks about how he really shouldn’t be feeling this strong for a boy he’s only met a few times, the way that just Isak’s presence makes his whole body light up. He’s thinking about the conversations that they’ve had, and suddenly, he remembers one thing in particular:

The day that reindeer fly.

The reindeer are right in front of him, and it wouldn’t take much to just lift them out of the air for a while, just to show off a bit. And it was Isak’s suggestion in the first place anyway, so it wouldn’t be that bad.

Even shakes the idea out of his head with a slight shudder, because he is currently sitting in a park where anyone could just walk around the corner and potentially see reindeers flying, which was not exactly what he wanted.

But the idea is in his head now, it’s four in the morning and Isak is drunk, at least enough that his reaction to Even’s magic will be genuine. It’s the best chance that Even’s got to assess what Isak would think if he knew the real truth. And if it goes pear shaped, well hopefully Isak’s drunken mind would play it off as a drunken hallucination or something and he would know that it would take a lot more work to get Isak to the stage where he would believe him.

“Do you believe in magic?” Even asks quietly, squeezing Isak’s hand.

Isak turns to look at him, a confused look on his face. “Magic?”

“Magic.”

“What, you mean like pulling rabbits out of hats, abracadabra and all of that?”

“No, not anything like that. Those are illusions. I mean real magic,” Even waves a hand through the air, and can feel that familiar electric sort of buzz at his fingertips.

“Fuck,” Isak scrunches his nose up. “Is this some sort of kink?”

“What?”

“Because I know you're not supposed to kink shame, but I don't think I could handle you whipping out a magic wand instead of your dick.”

“I don't have a magic kink,” Even laughs uncomfortably. “Is that an actual thing?”

“You tell me man, you’re the one with the magic kink,” Isak says, leaning back into him. Even pushes back though, turns around so that he can look Isak in the eyes and convey how serious he is about this. Even in his inebriated state Isak seems to get it, so he wiggles around a little in an attempt to clear his brain and focus more on what Even is saying. He can tell that it doesn’t really work, but Even appreciates his attempts anyway.

“I have to tell you something,” he says, regretting the formal way his words sound the moment they leave his lips.

“Okay,” Isak says, frowning.

“I live at the North Pole,” Even says, studying him closely. “For part of the year, at least. I come to Oslo when I have time off, or when we get stationed around this time of year.”

Isak leans more heavily against him. “What, are you a scientist or something? Don’t they have research bases up there?”

“I’m not a scientist. I’m actually Santa’s helper—or one of them, anyways,” Even admits.

Isak blinks, confused. “You're an elf?”

“No, I’m a helper. There's a difference,” Even says, with perhaps a touch too much force.

“There is?” Even is suddenly really glad he decided to do this while Isak was drunk, because he isn’t even resisting the questions.

He nods quickly. “I don't make toys, I handle the organizational side of things. Some of us sort the presents by country, some of edit the Naughty and Nice List… the really high ups deliver presents. Like...things like that.”

Isak considers it for a while, the wheels turning in his head. Before long, his mouth is quirking up in a faint smile. “Prove it.”

“What?”

Isak gestures wildly around then. ”Do something magical.”

Even licks his lips nervously. “Well—I could make the reindeer fly?”

“You could?” Isak’s eyes widen, and Even can see them grow misty after a moment. “Mamma told me stories about how they used to fly when we came here together. I've always wanted to see reindeer fly.”

Internally, Even is fist pumping the air with joy. He knew that it was a good idea when he thought of it, but knowing that Isak has some sentimental value makes it all that much better.

“If I make them fly,” he murmurs, “you'll believe me?”

“Reindeer can't fly,” Isak replies, as if that's all the answer Even should need.

Even looks between Isak and the reindeer, pressing his lips together. Finally, he gives him a slight nod, and turns to face the reindeer. He stares at them with his heart racing—though whether it’s from the reckless act he's about to perform or knowing that Isak is watching him, he's it sure.

He flicks two fingers up, concentrating his energy. This should be easy, he does it all the time, but it requires a lot more focus when he's this nervous.

The reindeer slowly lift from the ground, until they’re hovering a good ten feet in the air. He makes sure to keep control of them so they don't go galloping off, but he lets them fly around in a small circle just to satisfy Isak.

“Huh,” Isak says simply, looking at the flying reindeer in front of him. “I knew you weren’t lying to me.”

Even lets them fly around a bit more to satisfy Isak, but he can feel himself getting tired already. Magic is draining, and the amount he’s using to show off for Isak is enough to leave him reeling for the next few hours. The reindeer gently land back on solid ground, looking completely content for reindeer which have just had a mid air adventure.

“There you are!”

Even looks over to see a boy with wild curls poking out from under a beanie, his face covered with worry.

Isak elbows Even in the side. “That’s Jonas. He’s my bestest friend in the whole wide world.”

“I need to put you on a fucking leash when you drink,” Jonas grumbles once he’s close enough. He’s clearly tipsy, but he’s still more sober than Isak. “I turned around for one second and you were gone.”

“Jonas! Man, this is Even. He's fucking beautiful, isn't he?”

Even recognizes him; he’s the boy who had interrupted his first alone time with Isak at that house party to throw up. “Hey,” he says softly.

Jonas turns around and looks at Even properly this time, a smirk growing on his face. “This is Even? The Even that Magnus said you were practically drooling over at the mall?”

Even can’t stop the blush that spreads over his face. “The one and the same?” he offers up, shrugging awkwardly. Isak is still almost hanging off of him.

“Sorry,” Jonas offers up. “Isak can get a bit clingy when he’s drunk.”

“I’m not clingy!” Isak protests, sounding like he really believes it, which makes the two of them laugh.

“Of course you’re not,” Even coos, before Jonas’ eyes narrow a little.

“Have we met before?”

“If you count you throwing up next to me and successfully blocking me from getting some, then yes we’ve met.”

Jonas barks out a laugh. “Awe, shit, that was you too? Isak wouldn't talk to me for almost three days after that! Now I can see why.”

Isak narrows his eyes at Jonas, nuzzling his cheek against Even’s shoulder. “Mine,” he says simply. “Find your own hot lover.”

“Lover?” Even snorts.

Isak responds by planting a kiss on his cheek, spreading warmth all throughout Even’s body

“Alright, I should really get him home,” Jonas says. “Eskild gets all pissy if he's out all night.”

“Eskild?”

“His,” Jonas pauses. “Well, Eskild is a little bit of everything. Housemate, guru, a father figure…”

Even nods in understanding. “Do you need help getting him back?”

“I do this every other weekend,” Jonas smiles wryly. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Even hesitates. “If I gave you my number for him,” he nods down at Isak, “could you make sure he gets it when he's sober?”

Jonas’s smile morphs into a smirk. “For sure,” he says, digging his phone out of his pocket. He passes it over to Even, with a new contact pulled up. “Put it in mine and I’ll pass it along to him tomorrow.”

“I—” Isak narrows his eyes at Jonas, “am right here!”

“We know,” Jonas takes his phone back from Even once his number is in, reaching for Isak’s hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Isak allows Jonas to loop his arm around his neck, helping him stumble back onto his feet. He leans heavily against him, shooting Even a lopsided grin. “See you around, handsome.”

Even laughs fondly. “See you around, Isak.”

-

FOUR:

ISAK- hey even, it’s isak. wanna come to a party tonight?

-

He’s seen Isak a few more times after their 4am meeting in the park, and each time has had disastrous effects. Even knows now that he should probably be keeping his distance from Isak. It’s not good, how out of control he gets when he’s around him.

He’s always conscious of his magic, but he’s never felt so out of touch with it before. Every time he’s around Isak, it seems to trigger something within him. He can't reign it in, can't gain control, and he knows that's not good, but.

But Isak is also everything Even didn't know he needed.

He doesn't understand it—all of the feelings building within him. It’s strange, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. Isak is smart, and funny, and fucking gorgeous, but he’s more than that too. Even is falling a little bit in love with him, and he can't bring himself to think rationally.

And so, against his better judgement, he texts back an affirmative and starts rummaging around through his stuff, looking for something to wear that impressesses but doesn’t look too arrogant.

Mikael rings him halfway through his search.

“Our friends are hosting a party tonight,” he says definitively, like it’s already a given that Even will be attending.

“Uh, I’m busy?”

“Fuck off Bech Næsheim, I know you don’t really want to come but you are.”

“No, actually. I really truly have plans.”

There's a rustle on the other end of the phone as it abruptly changes hands. “You, Even Bech Næsheim, the only young adult I know that doesn’t want to spend his Saturday night partying, already has plans?”

Elias is on the other end of the phone, and Even suddenly has the visual image of all of his friends getting ready for a party which he would not be attending.

“Ten bucks it’s a girl,” Adam says offhandedly.

“Twenty it’s a boy,” Mutta counters.

Even laughs slightly, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Uh, Mutta wins.”

There are whoops and hollers from the other end of the phone as the boys all press him for details that he barely has. A sense of anticipation builds in his stomach, as he thinks about all the right ways that this night could go.

“Do I go the denim jacket or nah?” He calls over the phone, scanning the various things hanging up in his closet.

“Yeah man,” Mikael says. “You look hot in that.”

Even rolls his eyes, but pulls the jacket out nonetheless. “I've got to go get ready.”

“Have fun getting laid tonight, man!”

He hangs up just as his friends burst into collective laughter.

-

The party kind of sucks.

A part of him wishes that he went to his friends’ party, counteroffered Isak’s invitation with his own so that he would be a little more comfortable. But he’s here alone, he knows no one here except for Isak and maybe a few of Isak’s friends, and he really doesn’t have the confidence to go up and make friends with strangers. And now he’s thinking about all the wrong ways this night has been going.

So he’s standing in the corner, nursing a beer and looking like a bit of a loner, craning his head every once in awhile to see if he can see Isak in the crowd. Eventually he spots him standing in the corner doing the exact same loner thing that Even is doing.

And the thing is, Even wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him until their lips are swollen and they can barely breathe, and he wants everyone to see. Which is a great idea in theory, except the very real fear of rejection lingers in his mind, and prevents him from going over.

He needs an excuse. Walking over and kissing him at random is bound to end in disaster, but if he has a proper reason, then surely it can't go wrong.

Mistletoe.

Even quickly lifts his gaze, scanning the ceiling for something even closely resembling the plant so that he can subtly try and get Isak to move towards. But there’s nothing in sight.

He should really let it go, shake off his lust, and move on. Except the idea is in his head now, and it would only be a slight abuse of his magic to walk over there and make a little bit of mistletoe grow, just so that he had an excuse to kiss him.

So Even downs the last of the liquid courage in his glass, tries to unsuccessfully steel his nerves and walks over to him.

His magic is thrumming underneath his skin, and he lets go of his control over it ever so slightly, intending for just a little bit to grow. Instead of a little bit however, the mistletoe begins to grow violently above Isak’s head. Even’s eyes widen, but Isak doesn’t even notice, instead his gaze staring off into nothing.

He tries to calm himself down, willing the plant to stop, but nothing seems to work. The mistletoe is all over the walls by the time he manages to make it stop, but its a testament to how drunk the people are at this party that no one seems to notice the fact that a plant just grew out of nothing.

Even is kind of staring at Isak as he makes his way over, even though he doesn’t really mean too. Isak looks up, straight into his eyes the entire time.

“Even?” he tilts his head gently, almost like an acknowledgement of sorts. He’s watching Even closely, waiting for some sort of reaction.

Even doesn't respond. And he knows that Isak isn’t stupid. He has now noticed the wild mass of mistletoe in the corner of the room, all around the two of them, and he knows that Isak knows that it wasn’t there approximately six seconds ago. And Even has to do something, because he can see the questions that are dancing around on Isak’s tongue and right now he has no idea how to answer them. So he takes a final step toward Isak, crashing their lips together.

To his surprise, Isak kisses back.

Even may have been imagining all the extravagant ways in which him and Isak could have had their first kiss; in a parked car on a hill overlooking a view, standing in front of his house as he took him home from a date, even underwater. But this is just as good as all of them, in a dimly lit corner of a party where no one is paying any attention to them.

He doesn’t even spare a thought for controlling the magic that is thrumming underneath his skin, because he simply doesn’t have the brain power to spare when Isak is kissing him like that .

-

FIVE:

Even doesn't quite remember leaving the party with Isak—not because of alcohol, but because he’s so fucking happy that everything feels like a little bit of a blur.

They wind up in his apartment, sitting on the floor of his bedroom and passing a joint between them.

Even blames the weed for his decision to ask the question again. “Do you believe in magic, Isak?”

This time, Isak seems thoughtful before he answers. He brings the joint to his lips, taking a long drag, and blowing the smoke out slowly. “It depends on what you define as magic.”

Even wets his lips, taking the joint back. “What do you think magic is?” He asks in lue of an actual answer.

Isak hums quietly. “I believe in parallel universes. I guess that's kind of magic?”

“Parallel universes?” Even repeats. “So you think there are more Isak and Even’s out there?”

“Infinitely more,” Isak’s lips quirk into a small grin. “Maybe there’s even one where you're a real fucking elf and don’t just play one for work.”

Even blanches.

Isak doesn't notice, continuing on.  “I guess I've never really thought too much about magic. I mean, I like science. Facts. It seems like magic would sort of contradict all of that, you know? But maybe it does exist in some people. I don't know.”

“So if I said,” Even coughs softly, “that I was magic?”

“I’d say that was already pretty obvious. Have you seen your fucking jawline? It's inhumane.”

“Isak,” Even says sharply. “I’m not messing around.”

“I know you’re not messing around,” Isak says, rolling his eyes. “The park, remember?”

Even’s heart suddenly stops beating, and he feels more sober than he’s felt all night. “I remember,” he murmurs, “I’m just surprised that you do, too.”

“Mmm,” Isak yawns. “I made it up. Of course I remember.”

“Wait, what?” Even snaps his gaze up to Isak. “What do you mean you made it up?”

“Reindeer can't fucking fly, Even. Obviously I made it up.”

“Right,” Even agrees meekly, trying to suppress his disappointment. “Obviously.”

-

+1:

Even is on a date—an actual date—with Isak.

The day before, he’d been chilling with the boys, and had made the mistake of leaving his phone behind when he went to the bathroom. He’d come out to find them texting Isak and, apparently, setting them up on a date.

He was annoyed at first, but when he realized that Isak had actually agreed, he was fucking thrilled.

“Do you want something to eat?” Even offers as they pass by a place. “I think they sell cocoa and cookies.”

“Get me lemon sorbet or something,” Isak says, detangling their hands in order to rummage around in his back pocket for his wallet. Even misses the contact instantly, reaching out to stop Isak from grabbing his wallet. He entwines their fingers back together, pulling Isak closer to him.

“I’m taking you on a date. That means I pay,” Even says, the wonders of Apple Pay meaning that he had scanned his phone before Isak had even noticed.

Isak glares at him. “I know you want to be chivalrous and all, but come on—”

The glare intensifies when Isak realises that Even has already paid, the cashier having shoved the receipt at him. “You sneaky bastard.”

“Just eat your sorbet,” Even laughs, taking the cup from the worker and passing it toward Isak. “I can't believe you're one of those people who eats cold foods when it's already freezing out.”

Isak shrugs, sucking the plastic spoon free of his first bite of sorbet. “If it's already cold outside, what difference does it make?”

“You're a weirdo,” Even says fondly, knocking their shoulders together gently.

Isak leads the two of them outside, humming quietly. “So what are your plans for Christmas?”

“Oh, um,” Even brings a hand up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “It's kind of a funny story, actually.”

Isak raises his brows. “You've got me curious.”

Even exhales, forcing out a weak laugh. “If I tell you, you're going to think I’m fucking crazy.”

“I won't think that. I would never think that.”

“Isak—”

Isak cuts him off, forcing both of them to halt their steps. “I mean it, Even.”

“Do you remember—” Even starts, staring down at his shoes. “Do you remember the conversation we had the other day when we were smoking.”

“The one about magic?” Isak asks.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, yeah. I remember. Kind of,” Isak winces. “The details are a little bit fuzzy.”

“Do you remember me telling you that I have magic?” Even asks cautiously.

Isak blinks dubiously. “Well—no. I definitely don't remember that.”

“I do,” Even blurts. “I have magic.”

Isak studies his face for a few moments. “You're serious?”

“Yes,” Even let out a breath. “I live at the North Pole, Isak. I’m a Santa’s Helper. My best friend is an actual elf. I work at the real Christmas village, for the real Santa Claus.”

Isak opens his mouth to speak, and then promptly shuts it. He stares at Even dubiously, and Even can only stare back, not really knowing how to proceed.

“If that's true,” Isak says eventually, “could you tell me what I wanted for Christmas when I was seven?”

“Well… no.”

“That's what they did in The Santa Clause . You know that movie? This dude is trying to convince a woman that he’s Santa, so he gets her this toy she wanted when she was a little girl—”

“I’m familiar with the movie. And I’d like to point out that it was a movie . That’s not how it works in real life.”

“So then why should I believe you? How do I know you're telling me the truth, and that this isn't just some prank?”

Even’s been asking himself the same thing for weeks now.

“I can do other things,” he says warily. “I could—well, you remember the mistletoe, right? And the reindeer?”

“That was real?”

“It was real,” Even confirms.

“I thought I made it up because I was drunk. That the reindeer flew.” He pauses for a second, unsure. “The reindeer really flew?”

“The reindeer really flew,” Even nods. “I know it seems insane to you, but it's true. All of it was real.”

“Huh,” is Isak’s only response.

“Do you believe me?” Even asks, swallowing thickly. “That I’m—magic?”

“I don't not believe you,” Isak scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m confused. I’m… not sure what to make of anything right now.”

Even takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he murmurs. He can work with that. “What if I showed you again? You haven't been drinking today, right?”

“No,” Isak slowly shakes his head. “I haven't drank or smoked today.”

“So if I show you some of my magic, you'll believe me?”

“I guess?”

Even nods. “Come a little closer yeah.”

Isak shuffles so that their shoulders are almost touching as he shuts his eyes momentarily, focusing on channeling that dormant little spark. It’s only a few seconds before he’s holding out his palm—mindful to angle it for only Isak to see—and creates a small snow storm in his hand.

“Oh holy shit,” Isak says, taking an instinctual step back. “Holy shit.”

“Do you believe me?” Even asks again, not yet stopping the magic. He wants to give Isak a few seconds to process that what he's seeing is real.

“You're like fucking Elsa!” Isak gestures wildly toward his hand, eyes blown wide.

“Not true,” Even’s lips quirk into a timid grin. “I can do a lot more than use ice powers to create talking snowmen. Like make reindeer fly.”

“Holy shit, you really are magic,” Isak breathes.

Even just nods again. “I really am magic.”

And before he knows it, Isak’s lips are on his. He wasn’t expecting it, but he can feel how much Isak is smiling into it.

Isak’s hands are cold against his cheeks, but Even doesn't even mind. He brings his own hand up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer and allowing himself to melt into it. He’s never been a fan of PDA, but the rest of the world seems to fade away during his first truly intimate moment with Isak.

They’re startled out of their kiss by a bang. The two of them look up and around to see the remnants of a gold firework, the smoke spreading across the sky.

Isak looks back at Even, who can’t help the blush that is spreading rapidly over his face and pinkening up his ears.

“Did you do that?” Isak asks, eyes wide with amazement and an amused smile playing at his lips—one that he’s trying his best to suppress to spare Even the embarrassment.

“No,” Even denies, but then his fingers brush against Isak’s, and two more fireworks go off.

“You did!” Isak can't hold back his laugh now, his eyes sparkling with wonder. He reaches forward so that he’s firmly gripping Even’s hand, his other hand gently cupping Even’s cheek. Behind them, the sky is illuminated with colours, which is managing to draw a small crowd.

The voice at the back of his head is screaming at him to stop this blatant use of magic because of all the people around him, but the way that Isak is looking at him like he’s the greatest thing he has ever seen makes him ignore it. He presses forward to lean their foreheads together gently, shutting his eyes.

“You know how we were talking about all the parallel universes?” Even asks, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah?”

“I love you in all the parallel universes, but I think I love you most in this one.”

“Good,” Isak says simply. “because I love you most in this one too.”