Chapter Text
Dear Santa,
Are you real? If you live at the North Pole, how come I can't see your house when I look on Google Earth? Are you Saint Nicholas? 'Cause you'd be incredibly old. How do you have time
to read all the letters from all the children in the world? And how many cookies and mince pies have you eaten in all of history? How do you get all of the presents in the sack? Does your sack have to get bigger every year, 'cause of exponential population growth?
And how do you get down the chimneys? I put my head in ours, and it's really small, even if you could squeeze down in 1 minute. And there's 9 houses in my village, so that's nearly 10 minutes,
and there are millions of loads in the world. It must be so hard being Santa these days.
I mean, what if, after all of that, I'm staying at Grandma's? Santa, how can you get 'round the whole world in just one night? My friend said, that you'd have to go so fast, it would make you,
and the sleigh, and the reindeer, all burn up! I think you are real, but how do you do it?
For Christmas, I would love a pink twinkle-bike with stabilizers. But, please, don't bring it
if it makes you and the reindeer burn.
Love,
Gwen Hines.
23 Mimosa Avenue
Trelew, Cornwall, England.
Dear Gwen,
Thank you for your letter and, brilliant picture. Your request for a pink twinkle-bike will be
passed on to Santa. And, yes, we do believe in Santa. He is real. He's the greatest man ever,
and he can get around the world to every child without a single reindeer being roasted alive hurt.
By the time the sun comes up on Christmas day he'll get to you too using his special magic.
On a crisp Christmas Eve over Denmark there’s a change in the air. A hush falls over the town and in that moment of perfect stillness a thousand pinpricks of light blaze into being and ropes fall from the sky… elves!
“First field elf battalion set! Field elves, jingle. Jingle! Jingle! Drop-time: 18.14 seconds
per household.”
Tiny elves, all dressed in matching uniforms descend from the sky. Gift wrapped toys and games carefully carried to their recipients. An old man in a red and white suit is guided carefully up a ladder.
“Left foot, sir. Right foot, sir. That's it.”
The elf in front whips out a piece of tech and scans the electronic lock, it beeps quietly once and admits them.
“Marvellous! Gets me every time.” Santa enthuses, gazing around the room absently.
“Ahem?” the elf nervously clears this throat, gesturing to the present he is holding out to Santa with his eyes.
“Oh! Sorry. Ha ha.” Santa takes the gift and carefully puts it in place under the tree. Then, in reverse of their entrance, the elves guide him back down the ladder and then up to the camouflaged ship lurking above the town. The ship covers the whole sky above the town, its only if you look very very carefully that you could see the edges where the sky begins to be projected in a perfect copy of that resting above.
“Drop complete. Standby S-1.” The elf speaks into his comms unit. “Santa has left the building!”
Many miles away at S.L.E.I.G.H. central command, The North Pole, a brunette man wearing a smart red and gold uniform, goatee neatly trimmed into the shape of a Christmas Tree stands in front of a huge array of monitors. Gathering intel and directing operations. “North Pole to S-1: You have weather fluctuation. Update camouflage.”
“Roger that, control.” His words are acknowledged by the crew on the ship.
Pole suggestion optimized - Denmark cleared. Next drop: Flensburg, minus 12.4 seconds. An electronic voice carries over all. Converting milk and cookies to biofuel. The AI system announced.
The door to the bridge on the ship opens suddenly. “Hello? Oh! Ah!” Santa quickly steps through before they close again.
Santa on bridge.
“Sorry. Forgot the PIN code.” He muttered in response to the stares from the elves surrounding him.
“Uh, we just crossed into Germany, sir.” The elf in charge hesitantly informed him.
“Germany? Huh. So many countries these days.”
“It's a big night, sir.”
“My, uh,” He had to pause for a moment and think, “70th mission. Yes.”
“So, you looking forward to it? Retirement?”
Ten seconds to Flensburg.
Far away in the control room the man in red and gold paced the floor, barking commands as he went. “Update national protocol. Delete rice pudding and carrot. German "leave-out" for Santa is
shoe upon step. S-1, hold drop altitude. This is Germany, father. Drive on the right. National dish: sausage. OK. Let's show them, people! Operation "Santa Claus is Coming to Town".”
Again, the process repeated itself. The elves dropped to the earth bearing their gifts and went around making sure that each child’s stocking was filled.
“Drop complete!” “Drop Complete!”
Again, Santa was carefully guided through the process by his attendant elves.
“Drop complete!” “Drop Complete!”
Operational efficiency: 100%
The doors at the top of the control room opened and there stood a short, frail looking man, with blond hair, blue eyes and look of wonder on his face. In front of him descended ranks of desks forming an amphitheatre surrounding the largest screens of all.
“Wow!” He gazed around the control room with his eyes wide. He never got tired of the sight of thousands of elves lined up at their consoles directing operations with the giant screens arrayed all around feeding back information from around the world on this, their busiest night of the year.
“What are you doing in here, Steve?” He looked down to see one of the elves picking up a loose letter that had fluttered to the ground before him.
“I've got to get this letter from Maria Costa down to Tony. Oh, no! Maria!” The letter he was grasping slipped from his fingers and floated down several levels to land below. He could see Tony far below, red and gold suit in place.
“Whoops. Bye-bye, Maria.” Snarked the elf.
“Is this yours, Steve?” An elf on a floating platform hovered into view gesticulating with the escaped letter.
“Thanks, Jasper. Merry Christmas!” Steve grinned as he took the letter back from the elf to join the pile of other missives in his hands.
“You want a ride, Steve?” questioned the elf, gesturing to the platform below him.
“No. Thanks. I'm not very good with heights and speed.” Steve shrugged helplessly. His small stature and host of health issues meant that there was very little he could do but he refused to let that stop him from doing his best to help the Christmas operation. It was a family business after all.
“Buckle down, people! Buckle down!” Tony stood tall over the elves giving him a commanding presence “Pepper!” He called and an elegant elf in a business suit appeared in front of him.
“Ready, sir.”
“SitRep on Special Forces. Where are they?” Tony asked.
“America, sir. White House, sir. Delivering to the President's children, sir.” With an efficient swipe on her electronic pad Pepper called up the team’s body cams showing the interior of the White House on the screen nearest to them.
“Okay, team. Left out of the Oval Office, right at the cabinet room, second floor, by the air vents.” Tony reeled off the directions.
“You think of everything, sir.” Pepper simpered.
“Thank you, Pepper. I'd love an espresso.” Tony said, focus already shifting to the next drop point.
“Coming right up!” Pepper melted away into the crowd and almost instantly returned, presenting a fresh cup of espresso to Tony.
“What a night, sir! Out with the old Santa, in with the new, eh?” she remarked.
“Well, I... Let's focus on the now. Eh, Pepper? Support teams, prep Poland.”
“Wow! Poland! Do you know what they call Dad here? wity Mikoaj!” Steve’s slight form appeared behind Tony, who winced in realisation that his brother had entered Mission Control.
Steve tried to make his way down towards Tony but he kept slipping and sliding, knocking into things and tripping over elves on his way.
“I'm really sorry, Tony. It's my Christmas slippers on the ice. They're from China!” He pointed at his feet, which were covered in monstrous fuzzy slippers with flashing googly eyes. If looked at in the right light, while drunk, you might think they resembled reindeer.
Steve panted as he slid towards his elder brother across the ice, gaudy Christmas jumper clearly marking him out as an outsider. “I found it.” He flapped a piece of paper in front of Tony’s face.
“What?” Tony frowned in confusion. He did not have time to deal with Steve’s inconsequential problems right now, they were in the middle of their most critical mission.
“The letter. You know? The one I said, from Maria Costa. She asked for a pocket puppy, but she really wants the blue one, 'cause it looks like her auntie's dog Biffo that ran away. I remember, 'cause she sent a picture of Biffo. See?” He thrust the letter at Tony who flinched away. Steve knew he didn’t like to be handed things.
“Uh, child 3G7X...” Pepper materialised again pulling up the information “This was Greece, sir! Five countries ago, sir!”
“Oh. Um... I just want it to be perfect for every kid.” Steve shrugged. He loved working in Letters. He got to hear from children all around the world and help to make their Christmas wishes come true. “Hey! There's Dad!” Steve waved frantically at the screen “Santa! Maria Costa, Dad! Did she get the blue one?” he hollered. Elves everywhere flinching as his call drowned out their comms.
“Little bro, it's great to have you around. You... You bring a... a genuine aura... ...of seasonal positivity.” Tony was trying to be nice, he really was. It wasn’t Steve’s fault that he was such a sickly child but as they had grown older Tony had found himself getting frustrated with the extra attention Steve always needed and they had drifted apart.
“Thank you.” Steve smiled at the compliment. Tony could tell he wasn’t getting it.
“But could you... ...not be in Mission Control... at all? For the rest of the night?” Tony finally grit out through clenched teeth.
“Oh. Um... ah... Yeah. Ah, of course. Right. Sorry if I... uh...” Steve stuttered to a halt, realising that once again he was just getting in the way. He hated being thought of as an inconvenience. He would do anything to help Tony but he only ever seemed to make things worse for his brother. He plastered a grin to his face and gestured around at the organised room, a few more letters slipped from his grasp and floated to the ground around him “Brilliant!” He called as he tried to make a graceful retreat from the awkward silence, backing towards the door. He could hear the muttering from elves nearby.
“They should put him somewhere out of harm's way. What? Like the South Pole?”
Suddenly an alarm blared forth, a red warning flashing on every screen around the room. But it was too late, Steve was in the corridor and the doors slammed closed in front of him.
“WAKER! We have a waker! And Santa's in there!” There was a sudden flurry of activity, elves all trying to figure out what had gone wrong. “Code red. Repeat: Code red.”
A little boy sat up sleepily from his bed “Santa? Are you here?” he whispered, clutching his blanket to himself.
“Tony...” Howard Santa whispered, from his hiding spot at the foot of the bed.
“Hold on, father.” Tony tried to project an air or calm. “Intel. Get me intel!” he hissed to the elves around him.
“Santa's head seems to be resting on some sort of “Try Me" button, sir.” One of the elves piped up. “It's the "Quack Quack Moo Activity Farm", sir. It features 12 separate animal sounds and sings
"Old MacDonald Had a Farm". The moment your father lifts his head, there'll be 10 seconds of constant "moo"ing.” The schematics for the toy appeared on screen.
Risk of "moo"ing: 98% The AI stated.
“Captain Moreno.” Tony addressed the elf accompanying Howard. “You're going to have to take the batteries out.”
“But he'll have to get past the wrapping, the box, and 14 twist-ties anchoring it to the cardboard.”
“It's too noisy!”
“And you'll wake the boy!”
“He'll see Santa!” A chorus of elves cried out from the control room.
“And, at 1816, when Santa was seen, they tracked him home. He had to go into hiding. No Christmas for six years! The elves! All alone!” An elderly elf wailed from the rear of the room, panic swiftly filling the ranks of elves.
“The elves? Alone?”
“What are we going to do?”
“Calm down! It's not 1816 now.” Snapped Tony. “Moreno, your HOHO is equipped with state of the art EMF sensor technology hacked directly from the military's missile program. I want you to locate the batteries and perform a level 3 gift-wrap incision. Go in through the robin.”
The elf nodded and squared his shoulders, preparing to make the incision. “Incising robin.” He continued on and the whole room waited with baited breath. “Twist-ties clear…”
“Big girl's blouse. Lot of fuss. I did my 70 missions without any of this malarkey! Didn't we, lad?” Peggy reached out to pet the decrepit reindeer sitting at her feet. She had a blanket tucked around her legs and was watching the evening’s events on a large TV in front of her.
“Can I watch with you, Peggy?” Steve slipped in through the door, skidding slightly in his slippers.
“Shut the door! Hell's bells, It’s the North Pole!” She huffed at him.
“Is the kid still asleep? He mustn't see Santa! Dad would rather die than spoil it for him.” Steve settled on the floor at Peggy’s feet and she carelessly brushed her hand over his head in a forgetful gesture of affection. She had always had a soft spot for him, his father and brother just didn’t know what to make of him but she recognised that spark in him.
“What if you do wake the old nipper?” She groused. “A whack on the head with a sock full of sand and a dab of whiskey on the lips; they don't remember in the morning. What happened to going down the chimney? Never did me any...” She broke off her tirade as a fit of coughing overtook her and she gasped for breath. “Get off me! Down, boy! Basket!” She shooed the old reindeer away from her.
“Here you are, Peggy. I made you a nice mince pie.” Jarvis bustled into the room and handed over a plate with the mince pie resting upon it.
“I can't eat that. It gets in me teeth.” She griped, then sneakily shoved a huge bite in her mouth when he wasn’t looking.
“Oh, dear. Now, I've just got to visit the elf hospital, look over a treaty with Greenland, and make the gravy. Then we'll finally have the whole family home for Christmas.” Jarvis listed as he moved around the room, straightening and tidying as he went. He had been with the family for ever taking care of them in a most efficient manner.
“They're nearly done. Oh, no!” Steve gasped as the scene unfolded on the screen in front of them. Just as they all thought they were clear, Howard lifted his head off the present and a whirring started up.
“It's the detachable milkmaid! She's got her own power source! They've got 5 seconds 'til she starts singing!” Cried the elf in front of the schematics. “Four! Three! Two! One!”
“Use your HOHO! Exit Code 12.” Tony shouted as the music started to play from the toy and the milk maid burst out. #OLD MACDONALD HAD A FARM.#
The elf quickly grabbed his HOHO and shone a bright light into the child’s eyes as a car horn sounded. The elves that had been poised as back up swept in and swiftly escorted Santa out of the room.
Tony breathed a sigh of relief. That had been a close call. “OK! Go! Go! Go! Revise drop-time to 10.1seconds Let's pick this up, people!” He shouted across the Control Room.
Drop-time revised. Picking this up.
The rest of the evening proceeded without a hitch. Elves strapped themselves in and jumped down onto rooftops, presents were placed under the trees and stockings were stuffed. Until finally, the last drop of the night was completed. When the last present was placed under the tree and the counter had set to Zero finally the system announced: Mission accomplished.
“Oh, what a night that was! That detachable milkmaid!” Pepper materialised in front of Tony, her suit still as pristine as it was at the beginning of the night. “Just the beginning. Right, sir? I... got you a present, sir. Not "S" for Stark, sir. "S" for Santa!”
“Oh... I don't know about that, Pepper.” Tony demurred. “Okay! Let's bring them home!”
When the S1 Helicarrier docked in its bay and the elves serving on board began to disembark there was a crowd awaiting them. The field elf battalion and strike teams came first, all sharing their tales of the night’s operation and those in need were assisted to medical.
“CCTV in every room!”
“I had to go under the floor!”
“Stand back! Holly Injury coming through!”
Steve was there, eagerly awaiting his father’s return. One of the elves from the Control Room saw him there and called out, “Hey! Fancy a trip on the S-1, Steve? It only goes 150,000 miles per hour.”
Steve turned a bit green at the very thought. “No, thanks. I see a bit of the world from my office, you know. Some of the stamps I get are amazing!” He knew they thought him useless but he honestly just wanted to be part of the team and help however he could. Finally Howard appeared from within the S1 Helicarrier “Santa! Dad! Dad! Oops. I'm sorry. So sorry.” He tripped on an elf, distracted by waving at his father.
“Steve.” Howard saw him standing amongst the crowd, he wasn’t that much taller than some of the elves, he didn’t know where it had all gone wrong with poor Steve but he was always such an optimistic child. “Happy Christmas!” Steve called to him.
“You, too.” Howard called back fondly.
“You were fantastic! Look: Christmas slippers!” Steve tried to stand on one leg and waggled the offending slipper at him, its googly eyes lolling about its head.
“Huh. Well done. Yes.” Howard quickly looked for a distraction.
“Father?” Happily Tony was there in front of him.
“Ah! There he is! Tony!” He moved through the crowd towards him and took his place on the small stage set up to one side. “Mission: Accomplished! Tonight, we delivered over 2 billion presents on this, my 70th mission!” Cheers rang out from the elves and Tony reached over and turned the microphone on for him “Oh, Thank you, Tony. You know, I sometimes think I couldn't do it without you, and my splendid Jarvis, who stood by me all these years, very ably doing all that, uh, stuff that butlers do when their charges are at work. Marvellous. And, uh, Steve. Yes. Doing vital work in maintenance. - Really vital.”
“I, um, I work in letters, Dad.” Called Steve.
“Letters. Of course. I'm so sorry.”
Steve continued blindly, “You moved me after I tripped over that plug and melted down the elf barracks.”
“I lost everything in that flood.” Muttered one of the elves in the front row.
“Yes. Now... Many years ago, my father told me, that being Santa is the best job in the world. He was right. I loved it…. I can't wait for year seventy one! Merry Christmas everyone!” Howard continued oblivious to the shocked look on Tony’s face behind him. Everything he had worked for, striving to be the man his father wanted, improving communications, the S1, making this the most efficient Christmas ever and for what? This was supposed to be his year, the year that finally he would take over the mantle of Santa. Tony steeled himself, his blank mask falling over this face and Pepper helplessly looked on.