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Peter is determined to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. He didn’t even make a peep when Arthur came in to check on him. Giddiness bubbles in Peter’s chest as he imagines the look on Wendy’s face when he shows her a picture of the jolly, old man. She’ll feel ridiculous for making him cry in front of their cousins and friends during Alfred’s famous Christmas party because Santa is real.
Peter strains his ears to hear movement downstairs. He can make out muffled bootsteps and the soft rustling of fabric. Peter grins. It’s Santa Claus. Peter slips out of bed and tiptoes out of his room. He makes sure to avoid the creaky wood panels as he reaches the staircase and peeks down through the bannister columns.
Peter covers his mouth to muffle his gasp. In the living room, Santa Claus is humming softly to himself as he places presents under the tree. Peter grips the bannister columns and leans closer. Santa Claus is real. He’s real and he’s right in front of his face. Peter stifles down an excited giggle. He looks around for his camera or his phone and realizes he’s forgotten them in his excitement. He decides it doesn’t matter, because Wendy will definitely believe him when he tells her.
“There’s some extra mulled wine left,” Peter hears Arthur say in a low voice as he enters the living room with two cups in his hands. Peter lets out a tiny gasp. He assumed Arthur was lying when he said he knew Santa Claus like he does about fairies and unicorns.
Santa accepts the drink with a thanks and the two of them start talking as they make their way to the other end of the living room.
“Are you sure Berwald doesn’t need any help?” Arthur asks.
“Oh, no. He’s fine,” Santa Claus responds.
An awkward silence falls between Arthur and Santa as they stop at the entryway to the kitchen. Above them hangs the mistletoe Arthur’s frenemy, Francis, hung up to joke around with Arthur. Peter remembers a couple times when Arthur told him that he thought the whole kissing under the mistletoe tradition was silly and never played along with it. Then again, Peter’s not sure the last time Arthur had any fun or a date…
Santa Claus sees the mistletoe above them and points to it with an amused glint in his eyes. Arthur chuckles and shifts his footing as he glances away.
‘There’s no way Arthur is going to kiss Santa Claus’, Peter thinks as he watches their exchange.
Arthur sighs and takes a sip of his mulled wine. Peter doesn’t quite catch what Arthur mutters before he leans towards Santa. In fascination and horror, Peter watches Santa and Arthur press their lips together for a brief kiss. They pull away and Santa laughs first then Arthur. Arthur looks down at his drink and takes a couple sips before heading to the couch. Even from upstairs, Peter can see the faint red on his face.
Peter scoots away from the bannister. Santa Claus is real… he’s real and he just kissed my surrogate father. Peter crawls back to his room and lays awake for the remainder of the night, replaying the scene in his head over and over again.