Chapter Text
Winter had made a grand entrance in Hometown. Snow gleamed off of the now-empty branches of trees that lined the roads, and every movement of the wind brought with it a crisp, electric chill—and that was only the weather.
It had become something of a tradition among the townsfolk to welcome the turn of the season with a de facto festival. There were never any permits granted or posters plastered to café walls; people just showed up in the small hours of the morning, staking their tents and stalls in the freshly settled snow, and by the time everyone else had woken up they would simply be there already.
But while they were a staple of the tradition, and a widely endorsed one, they were only sidepieces to the day’s main event—the one that attracted everyone in town, whether or not they actually claimed to enjoy it.
Kris looked up, to the top of the towering evergreen in the town square, and shivered. Toriel, noticing, pulled their scarf a smidge tighter around their face from behind them, before planting her hands on their shoulders and following their gaze.
“You will have to work twice as hard this year,” she told them. “Your brother was so sorry he couldn’t come home soon enough. No trouble—I expect you’ll make up for his absence, teehee!”
Kris groaned, but didn’t complain. Toriel rubbed their shoulders affectionately.
“Now go find your friends,” she said. “I’m supposed to be helping the church with their craft station, and I think I spotted Noelle somewhere.”
“A Holiday? At a Christmas celebration?” Kris raised an eyebrow. “I’d be worried if you hadn’t.”
“Cheeky.” She patted their head, then headed for a collection of tables strewn with craft wires and ribbons and feathers and beads. A banner above the tables read ‘Mace your own Angels!’, and a very tall monster was hastily trying to cover the error with paint, whilst assuring passers-by that there would not be any use of medieval weaponry and/or pepper spray and/or nutmeg on celestial beings.
Kris set off in the other direction, taking in the growing bustle. Down one street they could see a quite large crowd attempting to untangle an enormous string of lights with increasing frustration. On two seperate occasions they narrowly avoided slipping on a runaway bauble as they walked. Once, a projectile candy cane thwacked them on the side of the head, and they could not for the life of them figure out where it had possibly come from. They just dug it out of their scarf where it had landed and, since no one was telling them not to, began to eat it.
It was only after they’d done a full circuit around the base of the tree that a familiar voice called out to them. “Kris! Hey!”
They whirled around, and Noelle came bounding over. They grinned, opening their arms as she barrelled into them, squeezing them tightly. They wouldn’t normally condone such extreme physical affection—but it was Christmas, and Noelle was excited, and they weren’t about to take that away from her.
“Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigoshcanyoubelieveit’snearlyherrreeeee,” she squealed in one singular breath, while Kris silently suffocated. “I’m so glad you came!”
Kris tried to reply, but only managed to make a sound like a cat being strangled.
“Oops,” said Noelle, releasing them. “Go on.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” they said once they’d recovered. “I don’t think I actually could if I tried. Even the lake’s been festi-fied.”
They’d gone down to it on their way over, to pass the time while Toriel had reluctantly stopped at the flower shop to discuss the holiday schedule with Asgore—ironing out details such as who Kris would be spending time with and when, dinner plans for Asriel’s upcoming visit, and making sure there would be no accidental doubling up of Christmas gifts.
On the near-frozen water they’d spotted a small sailing boat that someone had decorated to look like Santa’s sleigh, complete with inflatable reindeer bobbing out the front. Half of them were in various stages of deflation, and Prancer had been shat on by a seagull, but the intent was there.
“Those poor deer,” Noelle said with a shudder, confirming she’d also witnessed the festi-fication of the lake. “I can’t believe I had to see such graphic violence! On Christmas, of all holidays!”
Kris blinked. “It‘s still, like, three weeks away.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” she said, looking resolute.
“... I’m not even gonna worry about what’s that’s supposed to mean,” Kris said at length. “But speaking of violence, have you seen—?”
“SUSIE! SUSIE!! SUSIE!!! SUSIE!!!”
The pair cut a glance to each other, then wordlessly dashed in the direction of the chanting. They soon came upon its source, and they stopped at the fringe of the amassing crowd, equally astonished.
Officer Undyne was perched atop a plastic folding table, clutching a clipboard in one hand, pumping the air with the other. In a camping chair adjacent to her sat Berdly, wings folded, a smirk on his beak, leaning back in his seat like he had nothing to worry about.
And at the very centre of the throng was Susie, deep in a squat, arms hooked under a truly enormous stack of brightly wrapped boxes with bows on top. She was grunting with effort as she pushed herself upwards, carrying her precarious pile higher into the sky. The topmost box wobbled slightly, and the corner of Berdly’s mouth twitched.
Noelle and Kris wove through to the front of the crowd to watch. Susie caught eyes with them, and it seemed to add fuel to whatever fire was possessing her; she grit her teeth, then pushed, and then she was raising her arms above her head. And then, all at once, she had weightlifted every single box she was carrying, and the crowd was going wild.
Officer Undyne whooped. “That’s fifty gift boxes, folks! You’re looking at a true giftlifting champion! Here ya go, kid. You’ve earned this.”
Susie grinned as Undyne handed her two ten dollar bills in commemoration of her tremendous feat. She turned to Berdly, and Kris expected her to rub her prize in her face, jeering about how she’d bested him, and was officially better than him at everything ever. But instead, she did something even more shocking than lifting fifty boxes directly over her head without dropping any.
She gave him half and walked away.
Kris and Noelle caught up to her as she was leaving, before they were caught in the swarm of people wanting to try and tip her crown. “So what was that all about?” Kris asked, falling into step with her.
Susie looked puzzled. “What was what all about?”
“You know.” They chewed the end of their candy cane. “You paying Berdly. Didn’t you beat him?”
“Oh, nah,” she replied casually. “We were working together.”
Kris actually stopped in their tracks. “...You? And him?” They scrunched up their nose. “Why???”
“No need to sound so surprised,” said Berdly, startling the ever living crap out of Kris.
“Since when have you been following us?!”
“A trifling matter,” he dismissed. “I only came to inform you that mine and Susie’s arrangement was a merely transactional one. For you see, while our dearest Su—”
“You calculated the optimal arrangement of boxes for the most balanced and structurally integral stack and then let Susie do the actual heavy lifting,” Kris filled in. “Literally.”
Berdly’s mouth snapped shut mid-exposition, and he pouted. “I could have explained it.”
“I know big words too, guys,” interjected Susie. “I’m smart. I could have... carcerated...? The maximum boxage?”
“I’m sure you could have,” Noelle said in a small but sincere voice. Kris glanced sideways at her, and for half a second they could have sworn her nose was actually glowing.
But Susie had changed focus. “Where’d you get a candy cane?” she asked, looking at Kris’ mouth.
They paused, then shrugged. “God, apparently.”
Susie seemed impressed.
“Have you guys signed up for anything yet?” Noelle asked, glancing at the tree as they approached it.
Kris and Susie shook their heads.
“I’m on lights duty,” Berdly said proudly. “They needed a big brain like myself to work the intricate electronics that the task requires.”
“... It’s fairy lights,” Kris said drily. “All you have to do is plug it in.”
“I’ve put myself down for ornaments,” Noelle hurried, before Berdly could get too offended. “Every time I’ve done lights or tinsel I’ve gotten my antlers tangled in them.”
“Still funny, by the way.”
“Kriiis! It was embarrassing!”
“Yeah, exactly. Hilarious.”
“Yo.” Susie smacked them on the shoulder to get their attention. “I think something’s happening.”
People had begun to abandon their stalls, gathering in small groups near the trunk of the great pine. Energised murmuring coursed through the crowd like ripples on the surface of a thawing lake. The sun glared high in the sky, casting a stark shine upon the powdery snow that already had gathered on the tree’s bristles.
Despite themself, Kris grinned. The best part of the day was about to begin.
“aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggghhhhhh—!!!”
Kris twisted their neck to watch as Jockington plummeted off of Catti’s shoulder and onto the ground far below. He landed in the snow with a poof, and promptly wriggled out of the grasp of a bunny holding a first aid kit. He was, from what Kris could tell, entirely unharmed, and not remotely discouraged.
Kris clung slightly tighter to their rung on the ladder and swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of how far their designated branch was from the ground. Though they supposed they didn’t have much to worry about—at the base of every ladder, someone was designated to grasp it and keep it grounded, and another was tasked with standing by to provide medical aid to fallen soldiers, so it wasn’t like they weren’t being looked out for.
Not to mention that they had multiple limbs to catch themself with if they did slip. A luxury that the disgraced Jockington did not possess.
“.......told you to hold on,” was all Catti offered in solidarity with her downed partner, before turning her attention back to the task at hand. She passed a neon pink bundle of tinsel across to Susie. “........here.”
Susie took it, grimacing in distaste. “This thing looks like a Barbie doll just threw up on it. Here,” she said, passing it down to Kris.
They took it and tossed it to the next person down the line, then looked up at the side opposite Susie and waited. “It’ll look better from a distance,” they told her in the meanwhile, but her disbelieving hum suggested she didn’t share their optimism.
They were about half an hour in, and the tradition had already lived up to every expectation they’d built of it from previous years. There’d already been an instance of fisticuffs over a knot in the string of lights, and Catty and Bratty, a few branches above them, had been arguing over ornament colours for ten straight minutes.
“Green!”
“You’ll never see it against the leaves! White!”
“You’ll never see it against the snow! Green!”
“You’ll never see it against the leaves!”
“Yo, Krith! Cathth!” called a voice from above. They looked up just in time to catch a mustard-yellow ball of tinsel that Monster Kid spat at them, having been holding it between their teeth.
They turned it over in their hands, then glanced at Susie.
“Alright, that’s worse than the pink one,” Susie cackled. “That one just looks like cat piss.”
Catti looked over, raising an eyebrow, and Kris would have kicked Susie if she was in range. “She didn’t mean—”
“—she’s right,” Catti said flatly. Susie wheezed.
Kris raised their eyebrows, then threw the tinsel down to the next person, deciding they’d rather not be holding it anymore.
A soft gust of wind ruffled them, and they shivered, clutching tighter at the ladder.
It was then that Noelle climbed beside them, a glittery red bauble hanging from her teeth—a strategy she must have learned from Monster Kid. She took the string from her mouth and looped it around the nearest branch, then turned to Kris. “You look ready to take a break.”
“But I’m having so much fun freezing my ass off,” they protested, and she snorted.
“You could swap with one of the ladder holders for a bit. Spend some time on the ground. Eat a spider.”
“Eat a what,” said Kris.
“Muffet’s selling gingerbread spiders,” Noelle said matter-of-factly. “Not made from real spiders... I think. I guess you could try one if you’re in the mood for a surprise.”
Kris shuddered. “Yeah, no thanks.”
“Who’s eating spiders?” asked Susie, interest piqued. “Heads, Kris!”
“Huh?”
A lump of purple tinsel thumped against the back of their head, and they sighed.
“I warned you,” said Susie. “I said heads.”
By the time the sun had at last sunk to the horizon, Hometown had declared its job done.
Kris, Susie, and Noelle sat side-by-side at one of the church’s craft tables. Noelle was carefully crafting pipe cleaner wings for her DIY angel table topper. Susie, ever the adventurous soul, was gnawing on a gingerbread spider, which she claimed was “deliciously wriggly”. And Kris was having the time of their life, sipping away at a cup of the church’s famous fruit juice.
A commotion erupted over by the tree, and Noelle perked up. “I think they’re about to...”
Someone called out for silence, and a hush fell over the street. The entire town seemed to hold its breath as one, as the lights team dragged a large cable through the snow.
There was a muffled thump, and then a click. And then the approaching night flooded with dazzling light.
Gasps and applause erupted through the townsfolk. Kris’ breath caught in their throat as this immense communal effort came to life in a display of flashing and twinkling colour. The light from the winking bulbs shone off the curtains of tinsel, gleamed off the curves of baubles of all sizes, and bounced off the bank of snow that carpeted the base of the great Christmas tree. A rainbow of festivity lit up the town, twinkling along with the slowly emerging stars.
Toriel sidled into the seat beside Kris, and they rested their head on her shoulder. “Did you have fun today?” she asked.
Kris nodded, then straightened up. “Did you bring—?”
“I brought our photo camera, yes,” said Toriel. She looked over at Noelle and Susie. “Would you girls like to join us in our photo?”
“What, like...” Susie scuffed her boots in the snow beneath her seat. “Your family photo?”
“I don’t see why not,” Toriel replied. “You’ve all worked terribly hard today, you should commemorate it!”
“Well.” Susie hid her face in her jacket, but Kris recognised an honoured sparkle in her eye. “If you say so, ma’am.”
Toriel found Officer Undyne, who eagerly agreed to take the picture for them. She, Kris, Susie, and Noelle bunched themselves together and faced the camera, with the tree glistening behind them.
“Everybody say ‘Susie’s buff’!” Undyne said enthusiastically.
The four of them complied, even Toriel, although she seemed rather confused about it. Undyne handed back the camera, and Toriel thanked her profusely.
“Don’t mention it,” Undyne replied. “You guys get home safely, ya hear?”
“We all live less than a block away,” said Kris. “I don’t think that’ll be hard.”
“Exactly. You’d better not screw it up, since it’s so easy. Otherwise you’d just be embarrassing yourself.”
“...Fair point?”
She left on that note, while Toriel cooed at the photos she’d taken.
“These are excellent,” she said. “I’ll be sure to print extra copies of these, so you can have them too, girls.” She sighed, and tucked the camera into her handbag. “Come then, Kris. We should be going before it gets too late.”
“Oh.” Susie blinked. “You guys are leaving?”
“I guess,” said Kris.
“Well, in that case. Uh.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I just want to say thanks, I guess. I’ve never actually... taken part in this before.”
Noelle gasped, deeply affronted.
“But it was cool to do it with you guys,” she added sheepishly. “And I... I had fun.”
Noelle looked significantly less affronted.
“So thanks. For this,” she finished awkwardly, staring at the ground.
There was a beat of silence. Then Noelle hugged Susie, much to everyone—including Noelle—‘s surprise.
Susie stiffened, then relented a little, patting Noelle on the arm. Noelle receded, looking completely amazed at herself for having just done that.
“See you guys on Monday?” said Susie.
“Oh, no,” groaned Noelle. “I totally forgot we still have school.”
“It’s just another few days,” Kris laughed. “And we’ll probably spend most of it watching Ms Alphys’ favourite anime Christmas specials.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Susie said, horrified.
“I’m sorry, Susie. I forgot sexy super-Santa instills within you a primal terror.”
“He’s got too many abs, Kris! It’s unnatural!”
Noelle snorted. “Fine, fine, I get it. It’ll be fun.”
“By your standards, maybe,” growled Susie, a haunted look in her eye.
“See you guys then?” Noelle said, kindly ignoring her.
Kris smiled. “Yeah.” They glanced at Susie, and her withering gaze softened as she seemed to accept that excess abs were a small price to pay for friendship. “We’ll be ther—“
From no discernible source, a candy cane thwacked them in the side of the head, shattering the moment.
“Who keeps doing that?!” yelled Kris, but there came no reply.
“... You gonna eat that?” asked Susie.
They handed it to her, and she took it with glee.