Chapter Text
“You’ve reached Buck, leave me a message and I might get back to you. Or better yet, send a text!” Bernard could hear a small child giggling in the background of the voicemail answering machine message.
“Answer the phone, Evan,” he growled, “You can’t avoid this forever.”
Bernard shoved his phone back in his messenger bag. His long legs carried him through the glimmering lights and riot of colors in the North Pole workshop. Well, his legs were long for an elf. Long enough that Jackson had to run to try and catch him.
“Bernard!” he cried.
“Yes,” Bernard sighed, slowing slightly.
“Theres been a jam in the wrapping machine. Doris is out all day and no one else knows how to fix it.”
“We’ve had that machine for 40 years. Surely someone else has figured out how to fix it.” Bernard said.
“But who? Can’t you come take a look?” Jackson pleaded.
“I’m busy.”
“But there’s only 6 weeks until Christmas!”
“Yes,” Bernard snapped. “And 58 weeks until Christmas next year. And 162 weeks until the big guy wants to retire. You are in charge of handling post-production. I have to make sure Christmas still exists in 3 years. Figure it out, Jack.” He lengthened his stride again, leaving Jackson wringing his hands behind him.
Buck followed the rest of the 118 into the open air shopping center full of pop-up kiosks for the holiday. Christmas music blasted through the speakers as shoppers elbowed each other out of the way to get to the next item on their list. He took a deep inhale as he snapped on his latex gloves.
Fraser Fir.
It smelled like home.
“Eddie, you and Buck are on crowd control while Hen and Chim take a look at Santa over here.”
“On it, Cap,” Buck called back.
Christmas in LA was always odd to Buck. The music and the ambiance had been year round when he was growing up, but he never really felt like it was Christmas until there was snow. That bite in the air that made the hot chocolate that much sweeter. The glimmer of lights on freshly fallen snow that made the whole world sparkle.
In LA it was just a bit chilly.
Don’t get him wrong, lights in a palm tree are great and spending Christmas surfing on the beach was way better than the lonely chaos of the North Pole, but it just didn’t put him in the same Holiday spirit.
Which was, of course, part of the point. Buck and Christmas did not get along. Growing up as the son of Santa Clause meant Christmas was basically a 365 day affair, but Christmas itself was always the loneliest day of the year. His parents and all the elves were running around for the big day and as soon as it was over they crashed for a few hours and got right back to preparing for the next one. Buck’s lack of Christmas Magic had left him standing on the outskirts every year.
Now that he was an adult and living his own life he didn’t need the reminder of how it felt to be surrounded by ‘cheer’ and have no one to share it with.
“Hey, Buck, what are you doing for Christmas this year?” Eddie asked.
Buck raised his eyebrows, “Working. Same as you.”
“Yeah,” the other man scoffed, “But what else are you doing to celebrate?”
Buck shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know. You know I’m not a big Christmas guy.”
“You went with me to take Chris to see Santa last year. And you baked cookies with him.” Eddie pointed out.
“I guess I did, but that’s not really Christmas that's…” Buck trailed off. “Ok, I guess it's kind of Christmas. Why, what are you guys doing?”
“Not sure yet,” Eddie sighed. “Shannon was big on Christmas. It’s our first one without her and now I’m working too. Chris is really upset. I just don’t know what to do about it. I don’t want him to lose that Christmas magic and spend the whole day missing us. He’ll only be a kid for so long.”
“Poor guy,” Buck sympathized. “I get it. My dad worked on Christmas too. It sucked”
Eddie ran a hand through his hair and sighed again. Buck’s heart clenched at the sight of Eddie’s eyes drooping with exhaustion.
“But!” Buck said quickly, “Christmas is just a day! We- I mean you- can celebrate on whatever day you want. You two can spread the Christmas cheer out for the whole month. Do like an advent calendar of Christmas activities. All the stuff you usually do, just on different days."
“I don’t know that we have enough traditions for that, Buck.”
“So make some new ones! I’ll do some research, see what’s around LA that we can go to on our days off.”
“Buck, they’re your days off too. I know you don’t really celebrate.”
“Yeah, but I love that kid. I still need to teach him how to bake my famous peppermint shortbread cookies anyway.”
“Since when do you have a peppermint shortbread recipe?” Eddie laughed.
“I’m a man of many talents,” Buck winked. “Let’s finish this call and I can start a list of ideas back at the station.”
“But moooom,” a little girl tugged on her mom’s sleeve even as the woman tried to usher her away. “We need the Blinks-A-Lot Doll for the angel tree! The foster girl will be sad!”
Buck looked behind him and saw the last doll on the shelf. He grabbed it and squatted down to the girl’s height. “Here you go,” he said. “And it's the last one too. Now you have to go follow your mom over there.”
“What do you say?” the mom nudged.
“Thank you, mister fireman,” the little kid grinned as she ran away.
“Honey, slow down!” Buck laughed as the mom chased after her child.
Eddie hurried toward a woman who looked like she was about to take advantage of the paramedics' distraction to dart past the gurney and grab whatever toy they were parked in front of. The sunlight glistened in his hair and his shoulder muscles rippled as gently ushered the woman away from the scene.
While Buck was distracted the small crowd had started to press forward.
“Is Santa going to be ok?” A kid, younger than Christopher, asked. There were tears in the small boy’s eyes.
Buck snapped back to attention. He got down on his knees so he wouldn’t tower over the poor kid, “Hey, don’t worry. That guys not Santa.”
“What?!” Another kid started crying.
“No, no, don’t cry,” Buck tried to regain control of the situation. “That’s just a guy in a red suit. He’s not the real Santa.”
“Santa’s not real?” a third kid joined in the festival of tears.
“Uh,” Buck searched for a way out.
“Buck!” Bobby spread his hands in a familiar ‘what the fuck’ gesture. Buck cringed.
“Don’t worry guys,” Eddie jumped to the rescue, “We’re going to take care of Santa. He’ll be good as new by Christmas.”
Buck sighed. The sooner the season was over, the better.
Back at the station Eddie stretched out long on the couch, his head next to Buck’s lap.
“Get that look off your face,” he grumbled.
“You can’t even see my face. Your eyes are closed.” Buck teased back.
“I don’t need my eyes open. I know what face you’re making. It’s your ‘fix-it’ face. Stop it. There’s nothing to fix.”
“I’m not trying to fix anything,” Buck said defensively. “I’m just researching Christmas things to do around LA. For Chris.”
Eddie sat up with a sigh, “You don’t actually need to plan a Christmas calendar for my kid. We’ll have Denny over to make some gingerbread houses, show him that Christmas can still be normal without his mom, and I’m sure he’ll calm down. Chris is a good kid. We’ll celebrate a day early and he’ll forget all about it.”
Buck’s eyebrows raised skeptically.
“Come to the gingerbread thing. Hen and I already set it up for tomorrow afternoon- might as well join the kids since you basically still are one.” Eddie placed a hand on his friend’s knee and stroked it comfortingly. Friendly. Totally platonic.
“Ha ha.” Buck said flatly. He hoped his tone would hide the giant blush spreading across his face. “I’ll be there. Maybe you’re right. I hear kids bounce back easy.” He saved the growing list of Christmas activities anyways.
“Ok, folks,” Bobby announced to the whole loft. “A-team has the Christmas shift this year. I’m starting an anonymous vote for what we want to do for Christmas dinner: Pizza or Chinese.”
Buck made a squeak of protest that, unless a gun was pointed at his head, Eddie would never admit he found adorable. “We can’t do take-out on Christmas! It’s Christmas!”
Bobby raised his eyebrows. “I have it on good authority that you planned on eating a hot pocket for Christmas dinner last year until ‘Thena invited you to join ours. You’ll live with take out.”
“But this is family Christmas dinner. It should have turkey! And potatoes! Pie, even.”
“Sounds like you just miss Thanksgiving, Buck,” Chimney laughed.
“I’m not trying to cook a Turkey while we race around on calls to save everyone else’s.” Bobby said. “Besides, a full Christmas dinner requires careful timing and it’ll be Rodriguez’s turn to be man behind. Not that I don’t trust you-”
“You shouldn’t,” Rodriguez interrupted. “I hate cooking.”
Bobby raised a hand in acknowledgement.
“What if I was man behind?” Buck asked. “We can switch.”
“No offense, Buck, but as far as your kitchen skills have come over the past 2 years, I’m not sure you’re Christmas Dinner ready yet. We’re sticking with take out.”
The tones rang as if in agreement and everyone raced to the engine bay.
Eddie clapped him on the shoulder, “you’ll get the full spread next year Buck.”
Buck thought of all his Christmases alone. “Yeah,” he lied.
“What is wrong with your hot chocolate mix?”
Buck closed the door to his loft. He’d just left a long shift and the last thing he wanted to deal with was someone from his past invading his kitchen.
“Bernard? What- what are you doing here?” He dropped his duffle by the stairs and entered the kitchen to find the head elf gagging. “Did you try to make hot chocolate with protein powder?”
“If that’s what this disgusting shit is then maybe. And where are your marshmallows?” Bernard leaned against Buck’s kitchen counter like he’d been there a 1,000 times.
And maybe he had. If there’s one thing that stuck out from Buck’s childhood it was that the head elf was sneaky.
“I’m- uh- I’m trying to reduce my sugar intake.”
“You’re what?” Bernard sputtered. “You can’t cut sugar out of your diet. You need it to live.”
“You need it to live,” Buck corrected. He accepted the chaos and moved into his kitchen to refill his water. “I do not. Why are you in my loft, Bernard.”
“You weren’t answering my calls.”
“Because your voicemails sounded like a debt collector.”
“Well maybe your destiny is a debt!”
Buck tilted his head in confusion.
“Ok, not my best comeback. We’re in crunch time to Christmas, cut me some slack.” Bernard grumbled.
“Bernard, what are you doing here?” Buck asked again.
“It’s time to start your Santa training.” Bernard clapped his hands together like Buck was just going to leave his life behind and follow him back to the North Pole then and there.
“My what?”
“Santa training,” Bernard said slowly, “To train you to become the next Santa.”
“Uh- I’m not Santa.” Buck stuttered.
“Not yet,” Bernard agreed, trying for patience. “But the big man is planning on retiring in a few years. You're next in line. Why do you look surprised?”
“Dad’s retiring?” Buck cocked his head, confused. “I thought being Santa made you immortal.”
“It does,” Bernard nodded, “until you retire. Then you live the rest of your human years and go quietly into the good night.” He gestured toward the window, like little Santa ghosts might fly past at any moment. “Did you not know he was retiring?”
“We don’t really talk these days,” Buck started pulling out pots and pans for dinner.
“What are you doing?” Bernard asked. “We have plenty of cookware in the North Pole. You don’t need to bring your own.”
“Bernard,” Buck said gently. “I’m not going back to the North Pole. I have a life. I just got off a 24 hour shift. I’m making myself dinner and then I’m going to bed. I have plans tomorrow.”
“No, you have plans today.” Bernard insisted. “We don’t have time to waste. Do you know how close it is to Christmas?”
“43 days.” Buck said patiently. “It’s hard to forget.”
“Exactly! Let’s get moving! Stop wasting time.” He took another sip of his hot protein shake and grimaced.
“You don’t have to drink that, you know,” Buck laughed.
“Why are you pulling out chicken breast?” Bernard asked. “We can eat in the North Pole.”
“Bernard,” Buck heaved a sigh. “I’m not leaving. I have a life here. I already promised my… friend… that I’d help with his kid this month. I’m not going back on that.”
“You can help,” Bernard insisted, “by making sure he gets toys on Christmas morning. Lets. Go.”
Buck raised an eyebrow and dropped the chicken into the pan.
“Why are you still cooking?” Bernard was flabbergasted that his usual intimidation wasn’t working on Buck. It hadn’t really since Buck grew taller than the elf in 7th grade, but that was about the age that Buck stopped hanging around the workshop anyways. Bernard was still the steadiest adult presence in his life, but since he was in the North Pole and Buck was attending school in Hershey it was mostly through phone calls or directing his assistants to yell at Buck.
“Because I’m not going to the North Pole, Bernard.” Buck sighed. “I’m not cut out for it.”
Denied three times. Not even the head elf could argue with that law of magic. Still, he could lay more groundwork for the next time he’d have to come back and pester Evan. “That’s why we train you,” Bernard said slowly. “You work with the big guy, then you become cut out for the suit.” His hands gestured methodically.
Buck grimaced, “Did dad agree to this?”
“I make his schedule.”
Buck raised his eyebrows, “We don’t get along, Bernard, maybe you should have talked to him. I don’t think he’d want to work with me anyways.”
Bernard put his head in his hands and fought the urge to scream. “I don’t care what he wants. His happiness isn’t my job. Keeping Christmas on track for the next 1,000 years is my job. And you are making it difficult.”
Buck slid a plate over to Bernard.
“What the hell is this?” he asked. “What in the Abominable Snowman’s Asscrack are these green things?”
“A meal that isn’t 90% sugar or drowning in gravy.” Buck replied. “The ‘green things’ are a wilted kale salad. With pomegranate seeds. It’s festive.”
“Since when do you cook?” Bernard asked. He was skeptical anything shaped like a vegetable could be considered ‘festive.’
Buck shrugged, fake casual. “Bobby taught me. My captain at work.”
“Your boss taught you to cook?”
“We get some down time at the station. Family meals are part of the chore rotation,” he said defensively.
“So you’d rather run into burning buildings then go home and eat leaves than fill the world with joy and magic,” Bernard bit into the chicken. It wasn’t that bad. “I have to get back to the North Pole, I’ve already been gone too long. But I’m coming back for you! You can’t get out of this so easily, Evan. We can start training digitally. I’ll email you the naughty and nice lists.”
“Please don’t,” Buck grimaced, “I don’t think I have enough storage for that.”
Bernard walked out onto the patio and disappeared in a cloud of quickly melting snow.
Buck sighed as his phone dingged with an incoming email and an ‘inbox full’ message.
Back at the Diaz household, Chris was pushing his own (slightly less delicious) dinner of chicken and leaves around on his plate.
“Hey, mijo, guess what?” Eddie sat down beside his son.
“What?” Chris obliged.
“Denny and Buck are going to come over tomorrow for a playdate! I figured we could make gingerbread houses together. Maybe Buck could stick around and help us start decorating.”
Chris rolled his eyes like a kid nearly twice his age. “I don’t want to, dad.”
Eddie looked down at his plate so his son couldn’t see how his face fell. “Why not?” he asked.
Chris shrugged.
“Chris, talk to me. Why don’t you want Denny and Buck to come over.”
“They can come over. I just don’t want to do Christmas stuff.”
“But it’s Christmas! Why don’t you want to celebrate?”
“What’s the point,” Eddie didn’t think he’d ever seen his kid so agitated.
“The point is…” Eddie stopped for a moment. How do you describe the point of Christmas? “The point is…family… and traditions. Why do you think there’s no point?”
“Becuase you were gone, but Mom and I celebrated. Then Mom was gone and you and I had fun, but both of you here last year was the best! And this year I get neither of you! It’s not fair!”
“Chris, I’m still here,” Eddie’s heart broke for his son and all the ways he’d failed him.
“Not for Christmas you’re not! Everyone else gets to spend Christmas with their parents. If I can't, I don't want to celebrate at all!” Chris stormed off to his room as fast as his crutches would carry him.
“This was a great idea,” Eddie sipped his spiked cider as Karen and Hen sat across from him. “Shannon always used to make gingerbread houses with Chris. If this doesn’t get him in the Christmas spirit, I don’t know what will.”
“And it's a great way to occupy the kids for an afternoon.” Karen agreed.
“Yeah, all three of them,” Hen looked to the living room where Denny, Chris, and Buck were laughing while they decorated their houses in more sugar than generally recommended.
“Ok, who needs more frosting?” Buck asked from where he was seated on the ground between Denny and Chris.
“Me!” Denny squealed happily.
Buck pipped some white frosting onto the top of Denny’s messy gingerbread house so he could add more gumdrops and rainbow candy. This was so much more fun than the ultra competitive houses he had made in his childhood at the North Pole.
Every year the elves had formed teams and meticulously planned their houses like they were building architectural masterpieces. For a hyperactive kid who knocked into things more often than he could count it had been torture. Every team he’d ever been on had treated him like more of a nuisance than an asset. If they hadn’t been trying to curry favor with the Big Man in red, Buck suspected they never would have invited him to join at all.
Mentally, Buck scoffed at the memory. Those elves had wasted their time. Buck couldn’t recall his parents ever caring what he was doing during the Christmas season. Not after Daniel.
“Ugh,” Chris groaned his frustration. “My wall keeps collapsing.”
Buck looked at the wall critically and raised his bag of icing. “Well maybe we can try-”
“This is stupid! I hate Christmas!” Chris knocked over his gingerbread house and stormed out of the room.
“Chris!” Eddie called after him.
Karen put her hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “maybe let him calm down a bit first.”
Denny stared after his friend in concern.
“Don’t worry, Denny.” Buck reassured him. “I’m sure Chris will come around. Do you want to keep building?”
Eddie let the conversation wash over him until Karen and Hen made their excuses and took off. Shannon had been so good at making Christmas magical even though Eddie wasn’t there. Now that it was Eddie’s turn to do the same he felt like he was failing at every turn.
“Do you want me to start dinner?” Buck asked.
“Yeah,” Eddie replied, distracted. “Thanks.”
Eddie followed behind Buck and grabbed two beers from the fridge. Buck kept up a steady stream of mundane conversation that Eddie gave half an ear to. He was grateful that Buck was such a good friend and knew how to step in without overstepping. He knew that, strictly speaking, making dinner and helping parent your kid wasn’t ‘friend’ behavior, but Eddie couldn’t imagine asking Buck for more and having it all fall apart.
This soon after losing Shannon it would break Chris.
“Do you want to stay?” Eddie suddenly blurted out.
Buck cocked his head in confusion, “Uh, I mean yeah. I- I thought I was staying for dinner.”
“No,” Eddie took a deep breath as Buck fought to hide the string of rejection. “I mean do you want to stay and help me talk to Chris. Since you know what its like to have parents work on Christmas.”
Buck nodded, “Yeah, of course, Eds.”
Eddie tapped his finger on the kitchen table decisively. “I’m going to go get him,” he said before he lost his nerve.
Once he was actually outside of his son’s door, the decorated war veteran hesitated again. There were so many ways this could go wrong. And so few it could go right. He took a deep breath and tried.
“Hey, mijo,” Eddie said softly as he poked his head into his son’s room.
On the bed Chris poked his head up from his blankets, his eyes red with tears.
“Dinner is almost ready. Can you come out and talk?”
Chris sniffled, but slowly crawled out of his nest of blankets and walked straight into his dads legs.
Somewhat shocked, Eddie reached down to hold his kid and rub a soothing hand up and down his back. “Do you want me to carry you?” Eddie asked.
Chris nodded silently.
Eddie relished the chance to hold his kid like this. At 9 years old Chris kept insisting that he was ‘too old’ to be carried places. Intellectually, Eddie knew he should probably be concerned that Chris was so upset he was allowing himself to be carried, but honestly right now he just wanted to hold his kid.
“Hey, Superman,” Buck set down the last plate of pasta down on the table and started reaching for napkins. “How are you feeling?”
Chris shrugged.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie asked.
Chris shook his head.
Eddie sighed and looked to Buck, lost.
“Hey,” Buck started awkwardly. “I know Christmas when your favorite people aren’t around isn’t as fun. But just because we won’t be there on Christmas day doesn’t mean that we can’t still have Christmas!”
“Yeah, we can still do all the same things we always do for Christmas. Just on a different day. I bet if you ask nicely, Buck will even come by for our early Christmas.” He tried to catch his son’s eye, but Chris just stared down at his food.
“Of course!” Buck said emphatically. “I would be honored!”
“You don’t get it.” Chris muttered bitterly. “That won’t help.”
“Can you explain it to us, buddy?” Buck asked.
“It won’t be the same. Mom’s not here.”
Eddie felt his heart shatter in his chest. “I know,” he said sadly. “And it’s ok to feel sad. But it’s going to be ok. We can still do all the traditions that you and mom used to do. I know she loved doing Christmas with you. Then it’ll feel like she’s still here with us.”
“I don’t want to pretend everything's ok. It’s not!” Chris slammed his tiny fist onto the table. “It can’t be the same as last year. It won’t be.”
Eddie knelt in front of his son. “I know, mijo. It’s not going to be the same. But maybe we can find a way to be happy anyways?”
“What if we try new traditions?” Buck asked. “No one wants to erase the memories you have with your mom. Or replace them.” Buck gave a small smile, “I have some ideas for ones we can try out. We can make a rating system- decide which ones want to keep and which we can skip. You get to lead the charge Superman. You just have to trust us.”
Chris nodded. “Ok. I guess we can try.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Buck pulled his two favorite boys into a hug.