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Geno couldn’t remember exactly when this whole thing started. It had been years and years ago when the first letter arrived in his mailbox. He woke up on December 1st, stretched and slipped into his fuzzy slippers before padding out to the kitchen for his morning cup of tea. He quickly downed the first cup, leaving a second cup to steep as he strolled out to his mailbox.
“Bills, bills, bills…”he grumbled, shuffling through the large stack of envelopes. “Huh…what’s this?” He inquired, eyeing a suspicious letter addressed to Satan in the sloppy scrawl of a young child. “Hmm…” He hummed to himself, sliding into a kitchen chair and sipping his second cup of tea. The letter read:
Dear Satan,
I realy want a puppy four Christmas this yer. Please please please.
Love,
Susan
Geno couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable letter, and the absurdity that she addressed her Christmas wishlist to him instead of Santa. He had half a mind to just send it on to Santa, but then he thought well hey, why doesn’t he just do it. You know, get the little girl a puppy. Just for the fun of it. No one would have to know. It could just be his own private little inside joke with himself. The girl did send her letter to Satan after all, and who was he to deny his fanmail? It’s not like he got a whole bunch of it.
Through the years more and more letters found their way into his mailbox, all addressed to Satan, and every year he found himself smiling down at the letters with unprecedented fondness. His heart always swelled with pride when he left a present under the tree that he knew would bring such joy to one of his fans. Even though he knew that their letters weren’t actually meant for him, he managed to ignore that detail with ease.
He stretched out his long legs at the kitchen table, sipping from his ‘World’s Best Boss’ mug as he perused this year’s letters. This year he received more letters than any other year, and he was starting to wonder if kids were doing it intentionally or something, when a huge thump sounded from his living room. Geno hurried into the living room, scanning the area for the cause of the disturbance when he noticed a suspicious red lump in his fireplace. He cautiously stalked forward to inspect the lump, which surprisingly or unsurprisingly – Geno wasn’t quite sure which – began to groan and roll over onto its back. He towered over the red lump, which now appeared to be a human – an exceedingly good-looking human with large lips and pretty hazel eyes.
“Might I ask who the hell,” Geno tried to suppress a chuckle at his own pun. “you think you are just dropping in through Satan’s chimney?” he demanded, glaring down at the guy, who had, by this point, rolled away from the fireplace and was now sprawled out looking highly uncomfortable on Geno’s living room floor.
“Well, I feel it’s pretty obvious,” the guy grumbled, brushing the dust off his bright red suit as he pushed himself up off the floor. “But since you asked: I’m Santa, but you can call me Sidney. In fact, I’d prefer it. Only really like for the kids to call me Santa,” he grinned, holding his hand out for a shake, which Geno just eyed distastefully.
“You obviously know who I am, seeing how you barged into my home…And how might I help you?” Geno asked as an afterthought, eyeing Sidney suspiciously before grumpily leading him out to the kitchen.
“World’s Best Boss, funny,” Sidney snorted, eyeing Geno’s mug. Geno just responded with a glare. “Okay, sooo I umm,” Sidney gulped nervously, faltering under Geno’s gaze. “Wow, it’s pretty hot in here,” he continued uncomfortably, tugging at his collar and glancing around.
“It’s hell,” Geno reminded him flatly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about his state of dress. His bathrobe and fuzzy slippers weren’t exactly his most professional or flattering attire. He quickly shook the thoughts from his head. Just because this guy was annoyingly attractive didn’t mean he needed to impress him. “What do you want?” He said finally.
“Well, it’s just that it seems I’m missing quite a few children,” Sidney explained, fidgeting slightly.
“What do you mean missing?” Geno questioned, eyeing him suspiciously. “Like physically missing? You lost some elves or something, and you think I took them? Oh, because I’m Satan I go around kidnapping children now?” He demanded, working himself into a fury.
“No, no that’s not what I mean at all,” Sidney assured, holding his hands up as if he had originally intended to place them comfortingly on Geno’s shoulders, but then thought better of it. “I just meant that some children aren’t accounted for.”
Geno raised an eyebrow challengingly.
“Umm…we're missing their letters,” Sidney finally spluttered out.
“And what exactly do you expect me to do about it?” Geno asked, shifting slightly to block the obvious letters scattered on the kitchen table.
“Well…” Sidney gulped. “I thought perhaps,” he continued, leaning around Geno and spotting the letters. “That maybe I could get them back from you Mr. uuuh Satan, sir.”
“Call me Geno. Satan is so,” Geno sighed, waving his hands in a vague gesture. “Anyway, these letters came to me, and by all accounts they are mine.”
“Well, I mean, certainly you must know that they weren’t meant for you…right?” Sidney asked sheepishly. “Sorry,” he added upon seeing the furious look in Geno’s eye. “It’s just that I want all the children to have the best Christmas possible, and I–“
“You think that since I got the letters they’ll get nothing for Christmas,” Geno finished for him, pulling himself up to his full height with arms crossed over his chest. Sidney found him oddly intimidating for a guy wearing fuzzy slippers.
“Well, it’s my job to deliver presents, and if I don’t know what they asked for…” Sidney began, hoping Geno would see reason.
“Letters like this have been coming to me for years, Santa,” Geno scoffed. To which an affronted Sidney squawked: “I told you to call me Sidney.” But Geno pressed on as if he hadn’t heard him. “And as far as I’m concerned I’ve done very well by these children’s letters.”
“Wait, what?” Sidney asked, stopping his endless squawking to stare dumbstruck up at Geno. “You…you deliver gifts to the kids who send you letters?”
“Satan never ignores his fanmail,” Geno smirked. “I may have a bad rep, but I’m really not such a bad guy,” he shrugged, turning his back on Sidney to refill his mug with fresh tea.
“You shouldn’t have to do that; it’s not your responsibility,” Sidney insisted gently. “I mean it’s just a couple spelling mistakes; I can handle it. I don’t want you to have to go out of your way when I’m sure you have so many other things to do…”
Geno would not be swayed. “They’re addressed to me, fuck off, I’m doing it,” he replied in a tone that Sidney knew would be best not to argue further.
“Well, I mean…how are you delivering the presents anyway?” Sidney asked curiously after a moment’s deliberation.
“I’m Satan, unlike you and your stupid sleigh, I can teleport wherever I want to go,” he smirked, chest puffing out slightly with pride.
Sidney squawked indignantly.
“You know…I could take a few more kids off your hands if you wanted,” Geno offered slyly. “My way is much more convenient.”
“Well, you must have never flown in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer before, because if you had you’d never teleport again,” Sidney snapped. “It’s fucking magical, man.”
“And teleporting isn’t magical?” Geno raised an eyebrow.
“Not that kind of magical, well I mean yeah that kind of magical, but that’s not what I meant,” Sidney sighed, waving Geno off. “I meant the feeling. The wind whipping through your hair, and the stars are so beautiful, and all the city lights laid out beneath you; it’s…magical,” he explained breathlessly. Geno’s heart clenched at the twinkling of joy in Sidney’s eyes, and found himself leaning in closer to the shorter man, completely caught up in him. “Anyway,” Sidney continued, snapping himself out of his reverie. “If you wanted to join me tonight to deliver the presents, that would be…umm I mean I wouldn’t mind,” Sidney offered nervously.
“Are you asking me out, Santa?” Geno asked, batting his eyelashes, half teasing, half actually flirting. Sidney squawked indignantly, but Geno snapped his fingers, magically changing himself into a crisp red suit to match Sidney, and grabbed Sidney by the crook of his elbow. “Let’s go before you have an aneurism,” Geno chuckled.
“Wait!” Sidney shouted before Geno could snap his fingers to teleport them to the North Pole.
“What?” Geno demanded in annoyance.
“We can’t teleport,” Sidney began sheepishly, refusing to meet Geno’s eyes. “My sleigh is up on the roof…We can’t just leave it here.”
“You flew your sleigh all the way to hell?” Geno asked in disbelief. “How did you even manage that.”
“It was a long, weird journey,” Sidney admitted with a shrug.
Geno tossed his head back and laughed. “Okay, well we’ll go out the front, and I’ve got a ladder we can use to climb up to the roof. Oh, and next time, just come in through the front door, okay? No more chimney nonsense.”
“Yeah, sure thing Satan – I mean Geno,” Sidney replied, lowering his gaze to hide his grin.