Work Text:
Christmas
Charles had a wish, for something special under the tree.
He might have been satisfied with a library full of books, or a grand chess-set in the study room, but still there was something he yearned for every year. Not that sleek painted choo-choo-train given to him last Christmas, or the volleyball set, which came with the hoop and all. They would have gone to waste in the basement had it not been for the chef’s son who was willing to receive them. After Charles spent an hour insisting and convincing the boy's father that he really wanted to give them away, it came to pass, and his mother did not care if one or two of his playthings had disappeared.
This year, he wanted something really special. Something lively, that would stay by his side, and accompany him in his daily activities. Something, unlike those plastic toys, that would be able to respond to his questions and ideas, join him in his favorite activities, and wouldn’t condemn his hobbies such as reading and playing chess. In short, Charles wanted a friend. A friend who wouldn’t mind sharing this holiday with him.
So, Charles wrote a letter to Santa, carefully checked his spelling like he always did.
The house was quiet as most of the hired help had been sent home for the holiday. Only one or two handmaidens stayed back for his mother would feel uncomfortable leaving the house without any domestic help.
He waited until his mother walked out the door to her friend’s awaiting car before taking out the envelope from his drawer. “To: Santa Claus – North Pole.” It said on the cover. Inside contained Charles’ most desperate and sincere wish, something he could not tell anyone, worrying it would ruin the Christmas’ spell.
Holding his breath, Charles scurried downstairs to the living room. The mansion was quiet, but the importance of this letter compelled him to move even more discreetly. Everything was dark save for the dim light from outside windows and candles flickering on the wall. He snuck up to the fireplace, where a red sock-shaped bag with ‘Charles’ sewn on the white hem was hanging on the mantel.
“Right, here goes!” Charles bit his lower lip, standing up on tip toe. Everything in their mansion was huge, from the Victorian couch to the towering Fraser Fir majestically decorated in the corner, which made it hard for a kid like him to reach anything. He put the envelope inside the stocking, gently pushing it down to the bottom just to be sure.
Satisfied with the achievement, he stepped back and put his hands together, praying. “Oh dear Santa! Please, please, if you are real, please make my wish come true!”
He then ran back to his bed and curled up under the blanket. The winter night after all was so chilly.
It got colder that night, so cold his mother neither came home from her friend’s party, nor did she call to inform Charles of this arrangement, but Charles was content with that. It’s not like he feels lonely eating by himself at the lavishly prepared table. Having mother dining together wouldn’t make any difference, since both of them tend to be absorbed in their own thoughts.
He felt most at ease lounging on the couch, a book in hand. He was sure nothing felt better than reading on a winter night, with the crackling sound from the fireplace and his warm blanket keeping him company. A maid reminded him once or twice it was past his bedtime, though he didn’t pay much heed to her words, and succeeded in convincing her to let him be, since it was the holiday, after all.
As a matter of fact, Charles wasn’t paying much attention to his book either. Despite how much he loved it, something else had been taking up his mind for a week. Christmas Eve was near, and it would be the night when Santa decided whether to grant his wish or not. And Charles hoped he would, because he had behaved so well this whole time.
Just one more hour until midnight. Charles usually didn’t stay up this late, but this year he wanted to meet Santa in real life. Every now and then the thought of his wish being denied by Santa for being too impractical left him restless.
Still Charles believed if he had a chance to meet Santa, maybe he would be able to convince him. Yes. He has to believe in himself. Charles shook his head to regain focus, turning another page of his book. He needed to fight the urge of going to sleep, Charles told himself again and again every time his eyelids were about to give up.
By the stroke of twelve, the little boy was already nodding off on his couch. Waiting for Santa was after all a rather tiring task for his young mind. His chest rose and fell with every peaceful breath he takes, his whole body relaxed, letting the sandman’s magic convey his soul to the land of dreams, away from this lonely night.
Charles’ cheeks turned rosier while snow grew thicker outside. The blanket enfolding his body appeared cozy, but it was far from adequate, for a child was sleeping by himself on a winter night, whereas the fire was withering away, its warmth running out. Soon, Charles started shivering in his sleep when icy wind howled down the chimney.
Just before his limbs went numb, Charles’ eyes cracked open. A thumping sound from the fireplace shook him awake. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Charles turned around, only to see a massive pile of snow that had somehow managed to cover the whole mantel, fire long since put out.
“How…” Bewildered, Charles even questioned his own consciousness.
He then turned to the window, snow had stopped falling outside while he slept, and there was no sign of an incoming snowstorm. This heap looked as though was bluntly flung down his chimney. It would be however too absurd to be a prank. Charles wondered who would be so daft as to climb up their slippery rooftop on a winter night?
Another thump. His own instinct, sharp even when he was sleepy, suggested a thief. This time no snow fell down but there was someone fidgeting inside the chimney. Charles wasted no time to fetch the deck brush nearby. He might be small but being on home ground had given him enough of an advantage.
Dim candlelight led the way to the mantel. A loud rustle erupted from the chimney. Someone was trying to break into his house. Another rustle. Grime and dust fell atop of the snow pile. The burglar was getting closer.
Careful not to make a sound, Charles snuck to the side of the mantel. This way, they should not see him coming, nor could they avoid his attack. He raised the deck brush high above his ears. Whoever it might be, he was ready to strike the moment their face showed up.
Finally, a pair of black snow-boots appeared, donned outside red velvet pants. The legs were swinging around, looking for landing. Their size however, Charles noticed, was rather small compared to that of a grown man. They seemed not much bigger than his own. It struck Charles instead, that perhaps the burglar was around his age.
This in turn delivered a gush of perplexed feelings. This person and Charles could be on the same age, and for some reason this unnamed stranger was thrown into the life of burglary while Charles is living in surfeit.
Then a boyish, half-broken laugh disrupted his restive thoughts.
“Ho – ho – umff!”
What the…
Unable to touch the ground, the boots were still dangling in the air. The Xavier Mansion’s air system may be an antique but it’s perfectly fit for a grown-up to slip through, surely a kid would have no trouble sliding down. Whatever could be the problem then?
“Help! Rudolf! Prancer!” The boy cried out after a moment of reluctance. He didn’t seem to direct at Charles though.
Those names on the other hand flabbergasted Charles, for they reminded him of some certain characters in his old books. The names of Santa Claus reindeers. Why is this boy calling magical creatures’ names?
“H-hey!” Charles tried to catch his attention, but he didn’t seem to notice and just kept up his yelling.
“Guys! I’m stuck, down here!”
“Hey!” Charles made a harder effort by poking the boots with his brush. And he succeeded, the boots had stopped moving, so had the call.
“You’re going to wake up the entire neighborhood if you don’t keep your voice down.” Charles explained. Then he remembered this person was a complete stranger, trying to break into his house. “Who are you? What are you doing inside our chimney?”
No answer came, so Charles poked the boots again. This time with more force than earlier.
“Ouch! Please, stop!”
Finally, a response. A tentative one, but sufficient more or less. He took a deep breath, enhancing his confidence and assured his stranger.
“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again. Please come out of there. I promise I won’t call anyone.”
“I can’t.” said the fidgety boy.
Charles pushed further. “The ground is only a bit away. There’s also a snow pile so you won’t have to worry about getting hurt.”
The boys still seemed reluctant, so Charles continued, gentler. “If you still have doubts I can assist you.”
To prove his word, Charles shoveled the snow away with his own hands, approaching the mantel until the boy’s legs were right above his face. He ignored the frosty touch on his fingers and the gradual seeping wetness on his pajama.
The boy’s face was hidden in the shadow but Charles could get a vague glance at his golden hair, his slim build, his red plush santa outfit which goes very well with the season. He seemed to have trouble holding onto something above his head. An enormous looking lump of which Charles couldn’t figure out what, but to the boy it seemed essential, to his balance at least.
“Let go.” Charles told him soothingly. “You have to let go. I’m here for you.”
“I can’t. This sack is my lifetime mission.” He explained desperately. “Santa handed it to me personally.”
Santa? Charles couldn’t believe his ears. All this time the kid had been speaking all mystical things, things Charles wished to see, to experience. He in turn let his confusion subside and told the kid. “We can retrieve it later, after you’ve come down. Come on, I’ll catch you. Don’t you trust me?”
He watched as the kid fixed his gaze on him, his face tensed up, considering his choice.The sack had been with him for the whole day, letting it go was unthinkable until Charles, whose voice was so earnest, coaxed him away from his anxiety.
After a long pause, the boy in the mantel sighed in defeat. Charles made him feel secure, his arms were too weary to hold his body any longer.
As soon as he released his hold on the sack, his knees landed onto the snow, his body unable to avoid crashing against Charles’ awaiting one. They slided down the pile in a blink of an eye, reminding Charles of the park his father used to take him to. He couldn’t help but burst out laughing when they landed their butts on the wooden floor, which would probably be all sodden after tonight.
What delighted him even more is that the strange boy had also cracked up alongside him. Charles finally got a chance to observe him closely. Under the flickering light from the chandelier this boy looked even more festive. In fact he was wearing a Santa outfit, with red nightcap, black belt and white trimmings. Even when sitting down the boy seemed a bit taller than Charles, his clothes plush, compared to Charles’ pajamas. But still he looked rather out of place, for his suit was rather big for his figure.
His hair was indeed glittering golden, as Charles peeked from inside the mantel. It looked neatly combed and was tucked under the nightcap. There were freckles on his cheeks and noses running toward the shell of his impossibly pointy ears. They peeked out on either side of his cap, which caught Charles’ attention.Their lobes were tapering and not at all human-like, but matched those of a fantasy creature.
The kid noticed he was being stared and quickly moved to cover his head. His cheeks went red as he struggled with self-consciousness. Charles turned to meet his eyes, the bashful steel-grey orbs quickly avoided his gaze.
Realizing how rude he was, Charles hastily apologized. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” He smiled his brightest, offering a hand. “I’m Charles Xavier. Would you tell me your name?”
The boy considered for a moment, before taking Charles’ hand. He was still blushing wildly, but he looked calmer now. “I’m David Weyland. I’m sorry for breaking into your house, but I have my reason. As you can see, I’m an Elf, and I am on a mission.”
In his head, David was also astonished. The child’s suit was all soaked and his skin turning pale by the minute, yet his smile never lost its cheerful candour. He didn’t even mind David intruding his house anymore.
“An elf!?” Charles couldn’t help himself. “Heavens above! Are you really-”
“Yes, an Elf, from North Pole,” Another explanation came before Charles ould form his question. “Due to your wish being very particular, I was assigned by Santa Claus to personally deliver your present, which is currently stuck inside your home’s chimney.”
“Oh dear!” Charles exclaimed, remembering what he had wished for. He ascended the snow pile again because God knew there could be a human being stuck in there. He looked into the mantel, only to see it dark, full of black ash, and empty of any sack or gear.
“David.” He called. “It’s empty.”
“What do you mean it’s empty, Charles?” David ran up to him and inspected the mantel, his face stunned just as Charles’ when he realized the sack he’d been carrying all day gone without a trace.
“What? How can this happen?”
“I’m sure I saw you holding on to a huge sack before.”
“Yes, the sack containing your present. It was so big it couldn’t slide through. How come there’s nothing here?” David went inside the mantel. He even felt around, jumping up and down just to reach into nothingness. “My mission… How can it disappear?”
“I… I don’t know.” Charles said in return, confused and somewhat guilty for he was the one telling David to let go of his sack. Whatever Santa had for him in the package, it sure seemed more important to David than it is to him, at least for the moment.
Stepping out, David looked as if he’s about to cry. His elvish ears turned red, his face wincing and shoulders jerking rapidly. He said in between sobs. “What shall I do now, Charles? I’ve failed my task.”
“Hey now” Charles stepped up and took David into his arms, patting his back soothingly. “It’s not your fault the sack disappeared, I’m sure there must be a reason for it.”
“Well” David sniffled, “normally the sack only disappears once the mission is over.”
“Then that’s it.” Charles acclaimed. “Your mission must have been accomplished, hence the empty chimney.”
“But how? I haven’t given you anything. What should I tell Santa, if he asks me whether I have the present delivered?” David asked rapidly, looking so troubled fighting his own worries.
“Well if Santa ever asks you about it, you can tell him I am completely satisfied that he took his time to consider my letter, and even sent you to me.”
“Wouldn’t that be cheating, though? I mean, you haven’t received anything yet.”
“It’s not cheating if it’s the truth, David.” Charles chuckled. “I don’t need any present to feel happy.”
“You don’t? But every kid wants a present for Christmas!”
“Well then I guess I am quite different from the other kids.” He ended with a sheepish grin, hoping his friend wasn’t disappointed anymore.
True to his wish, David’s lips quirked up in joy. Again on the same night, David’s smile managed to delight Charles’ heart. He supposed David’s grin was some kind of elvish charm, and that he wouldn’t mind seeing it everyday.
“Now then, if you’re no longer feeling down, won’t you stay for the night with me?” Charles suggested. He knew the request was blunt, considering they’d only acquainted with each other for a while. But he wanted to try nonetheless.
To his heart’s content David didn’t refuse, but rather he asked. “Wouldn’t it trouble you though? Besides, there’s a sleigh of reindeers, on your rooftop.”
“We have a barn at the back of our house, if you don’t mind.” Charles insisted. “Besides, it’s already late, shouldn’t you feel tired? I’m sure the trip back to the North Pole isn’t short.”
Indeed it wasn’t, and David had by then noticed how scrawny Charles looks, as his pajama was so damped it stuck to his skin.
“Thank you, Charles, you’re so nice.” David responded with a thankful nod. “But you should change first, or else you’ll catch a cold.”
“Ah, yes.” Charles remarked. Coldness was slipping in down to his bone, and by staying awake for too long, his eyelids were once more getting tired. “I guess I should visit my closet.”
“No need, I’ll help you.” David clapped his hands together and from his palms, a yellow whirl of sparkling dust appeared. All at once, his old, wet garment disappeared, and was replaced with a suit much warmer, consisting of blue pullover and brown velvet pants.
Charles was still gaping in disbelief, while David added up to his amazement by saying “I’ve also sent the reindeers to your family’s barn. You need not trouble yourself with going outside.”
“You didn’t tell me you have magic!” Charles exclaimed.
“Well, I didn’t have a chance to. And it was not exactly magic, sort of a mutation actually.”
“A mutation?”
“Yes. Something that concerns genetics. You’ll know it when you’re older.”
David didn’t seem interested in explaining further, and Charles’ sleepiness was taking over so he let it go, and led the way to his room. His bed was a double-size, and David told him he had no trouble sleeping together, much to Charles’ joy. He considered asking David about ‘mutations’ by tomorrow morning, before dropping off to sleep.
That night was the first in a very long time Charles had someone sharing a bed with him. Winter was suddenly not so cold anymore. His mind slipped to a land of vast green hills where he could run freely. Looking around and he realized, he was not alone. A boy with golden hair ran to his side. He clapped his hands and everywhere was filled with sunflowers, blossoming in warm sunshine.
David cracked his eyes open when the first ray of dawn came up.
On the other side of bed Charles was sleeping soundly, exhausted by yesterday’s bizarre events and excitement. Under morning’s velvet light, his face brightened up in a contented smile. His breathing was even and his arms laid by his head. The child’s pink colored cheeks and drowsing innocence resembled those heavenly angels from high above.
David’s elvish instinct let him know Charles’ mind was traveling in a world where they could stay friends for life. Such aspiration was so sweet a dream David wished it could be true. But since he was an agent from Santa, David knew better. What an Elf should do, what an Elf must, it’d been carved in his heart.
Without making a sound, he slipped off the bed and moved to stand by Charles’ side. He rubbed his palm together, chanting another magical spell. This, was his real present for Charles, before he never saw the kind-hearted child again.
“In a few days, you’ll discover your own gift, Charles.” David whispered, softly as a dream. “You will grow to learn how to use your mutation, your very own magic. Your future will be vast, for there is so much you can do to others...” He paused, swallowing down a throttling pain. “for your heart is always so generous. Your gift will be strong, by far the strongest in its own term. But you are not alone in that world. You’ll never be, I promise.”
A clap, and the sparkling yellow whirl appeared again.
In Charles’ dream, the sunflower field surrounding him faded away in a strange mist. His friend, the golden haired boy, was kissing him on his forehead. But when Charles opened his eyes, he was standing on the hill alone. The boy nowhere to be found.
When Charles wakes up it’s already past noon. The weather today is much warmer, he no longer needs the thick blanket wrapping his body. The other side of his bed however, is strangely empty.
Charles jumps to the ground, running to the door and leaves his bed in chaos. He can’t bring himself to care for such trivia. His heart bumps in his chest as he runs through the empty hall, descending the stairs to an equally empty front room, until he reaches the room with fireplace.
There, at the mantel, stands a figure so familiar and endearing, beaming up his distinctive smile which right now Charles finds disturbing.
“I knew it.” He says, chest heaving in labor breathing. “You’re lighting the candelabrum without me, again!”
“For the record, it’s a menorah.” Erik rolls his eyes at his accusation. “And put on some pants, Charles. You’re desecrating Hanukkah.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re leaving me out, Erik.” Charles huffs with pouting lips, his arms akimbo. “I thought we agreed on this.”
His husband sighs when he puts the lighter on the mantel place. The telepath can be annoyingly adorable when he’s pissed.
“I didn’t want to wake you, Charles. You didn’t get much sleep last night.” His words would be so sweet and caring, if it wasn’t for the smug look on Erik’s face. Still, Erik’s hand is already warm on his cheek, and it soothes Charles temper right away without any struggle.
“I want to be with you during the ritual, Erik, I’ve always wished to experience it by your side.” He looks up into Erik’s steel-grey eyes, chiding him half-heartedly. “It’s lonely to know you went through the ritual by yourself while I was sleeping.”
As much as Erik is torn between how he was just practicing his people’s sacred ritual and is now being turned on by the obscenity of his husband being in his tight briefs, he can’t help feeling his heart flutter. Charles’ words never fail to make him burst in warmn
“I understand. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Erik apologizes earnestly. He lifts Charles’ face with both hands, rubbing his nose against his husband’s. “Would you let me make it up to you?”
“You’d better.” Charles places his arms around Erik’s neck, claiming a kiss he knows is awaiting him. “Good morning, my darling.”
End.