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Written for the sixth day of the 2017 "Holigay" prompt challenge.
The prompt was: "If it’s a fanfic, make it an AU: One of your characters develops superpowers, and Charlie Brown-esque, accidentally puts Santa Claus (or a St. Nick-ish figure) out of commission. Now they have to fill in for them for the night. (If your character’s not Christian, take the opportunity to make several ironic jokes… I know I will!)"
Summary: Grace just wants Jazz to feel the magic of the holidays, both despite and because of the stress that's consumed her life. Unfortunately, there are some unintended consequences to the attempt.
Fluffy, fantasy.
“I just… really want her to enjoy the holidays after everything that’s been going on,” Grace finished with a sigh.
Her grandmother’s spirit hovered just a few feet in front of her, giving her a thoughtful look.
“Are you sure that adding something else supernatural to the mix is really the best way to do that?” the ghost asked. “The supernatural—of whatever sort—is what created the stress in the first place.”
Her grandmother was right. No one knew how it had happened, just one day about a month before, people had woken up with… superpowers. X-man style, pretty much. Some were a bit nonspecific, like Grace’s had proven to be; she could sometimes make things happen by willing them to do so. Also, she was talking to her grandmother, who had died about three years back.
Jazz, on the other hand, had gotten super speed. She hadn’t yet figured out the triggers to activate it, which had led to several frustrating days of missing her destinations by accidentally speeding miles away in seconds, and then having to walk back the old-fashioned way when she couldn’t trigger it again.
Now it was creeping toward December 25, and even though neither of them was religious, Grace still wanted to celebrate Christmas. It was maybe a little immature, but she’d always believed strongly in some kind of holiday magic around this time of year, some kind of spiritual presence that she felt to the core of her. The kind of magic that made kids believe in Santa and flying reindeer, that made everything feel like it could be as wonderful as the world portrayed in a classic carol.
Jazz was proving to have absolutely zero holiday spirit at all, not even wanting to put up a tree or lights. She was so stressed about her new power that she sometimes avoided even getting out of bed, terrified that she’d accidentally speed into a wall (again), leaving her with a goose-egg on her forehead and probably losing them their security deposit.
When Grace had tried to talk to her, Jazz had said that she needed proof of the holiday spirit and magic that Grace was talking about. She said that she’d believe in a holiday miracle when she saw one, and until then, she was content to play the Grinch. She’d be more willing to play along some other year, maybe, if she got this speeding under control, but she just couldn’t put on a happy face under the circumstances.
Grace understood, and she didn’t want to push Jazz to act a certain way, but… the holidays and the feeling they gave her were one of the most comforting, glowing feelings Grace had ever known. If Jazz could feel that too, then she just knew it would make her feel better.
Her grandmother’s spirit cleared her throat politely. Not that a ghost even had a throat to clear, making it even more obvious it was solely to get Grace’s attention. “You know, girl, the least you could do is pay attention when I’m bothering to be visible right in front of you.”
“Sorry, Gram. Will you help me?”
“Why Santa Claus?” her grandmother asked.
“Well, I’m not going to ask Jesus to appear to her,” Grace laughed.
Her grandmother didn’t seem to think it was quite as funny as Grace did, but it looked like she was suppressing a smile. It was harder to tell on the blue-white figure that looked almost like an unfinished sketch of the grandmother she’d loved her whole life.
“All right. I’ll do my best to help bring about the manifestation of Christmas cheer. But if this backfires, it’s on you alone, I hope you realize that.”
Grace nodded, and between one breath and the next, her grandmother had vanished.
She closed her eyes and envisioned as hard as she could, Santa Claus. The dominant cultural depiction of him, and the good will warm feelings he symbolized. And sending it all towards Jazz.
It was late on Christmas Eve when a sound in the living room woke both Grace and Jazz. Jazz was up and out of the room before Grace had even woken enough to sit up. As she sat up and looked toward the hall, she saw Jazz seem to just appear in the hallway, and then rapid-speed toward the living room.
Grace got up to follow, much more slowly by comparison. But she had a sudden idea of what might be in their living room, if her and her grandmother’s efforts had paid off. Their apartment didn’t have a fireplace or the accompanying chimney, but they did have a balcony. If Jazz was about to have a genuine encounter with the embodiment of holiday cheer, Grace did not want to miss it.
She rushed down the short hallway, reaching the living room just in time to see Jazz, holding a heavy hardcover book like it was a weapon, rush forward in a motion blur to slam into a red-garbed man. The man collapsed backwards, having been hit with a hefty book moving faster than a car on the interstate.
Jazz stood over the other figure, brandishing the book like she was ready to take a second shot. Then she got a really good look at the figure, and the book fell to the floor.
She looked up at Grace with wide eyes. “Babe, I think I just killed Santa Claus.”
Jazz had not killed Santa, it turned out. But he was unconscious, and they could not wake him. Just to be on the safe side, Grace even called on her grandmother, who confirmed that Santa was not in any danger of dying (wasn’t he immortal? Could he be killed?), but that didn’t solve the immediate problem.
Grace’s grandmother didn’t offer any additional assistance. She just glared at Grace and reminded her, “It’s on you.”
They got Santa as comfortable as possible, on their couch, covered in a throw blanket. Even unconscious, Grace was filled with a sort of warm, bubbly feeling. It made her want to hug the man. Hopefully he’d still let her do that after he woke up.
“Did it ever occur to you that rushing full-speed—which is considerable for you—at someone while brandishing a weapon is not the appropriate way to meet someone?” Grace asked.
“I thought he was an intruder. He was an intruder! Shit, I didn’t think that Santa, who is, surprise, apparently real, would be in our living room! And it’s not like I can control the speed thing anyway. I wasn’t planning to hit him like that.” Jazz was pacing, running her hands through her long, dark hair repeatedly. Every few repetitions of her path across the floor, she’d sort of flicker into her super speed, and practically teleport across the room.
“But you do see that he’s real, right?” Grace asked. This was emphatically not how she’d planned this to go, but it had to still count as proof of concept. Santa was real, holiday magic was real, that should still mean something.
Jazz did not seem to be feeling the magic. “What the hell are we going to do? This is Santa. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“You are so on the naughty list,” Grace said, meaning it to be teasing. But then she had to admit with a cringe, “I bet we both are.”
“Oh my god,” Jazz said, stopping her pacing and clenching her hands in her hair. “But there are plenty of kids out there who aren’t on the naughty list. And now Santa is unconscious in our living room, and all those kids are going to have the worst Christmas ever!” She looked like she was about to cry.
“Shit,” Grace said, the full implications of the current situation hitting her like a ton of bricks. There was no way they were going to be able to get the gifts to the kids who needed them. Then she got just the beginning of an idea… “Just how fast can you run?”
It was the longest night of Jazz’s life, and it felt nearly as long for Grace.
Sure enough, as per the traditional cultural incarnation of Santa, parked on the roof of their apartment building there was a sleigh hitched behind a team of reindeer, the bed of the sleigh filled with bags of toys and other gifts. The animals were docile, and Grace did her best to explain the situation to them. They were magic reindeer so maybe they’d understand her. She tried her hardest to envision them understanding and cooperating, and then they set off.
The reindeer seemed to have some similar power to Jazz in addition to the whole… flying thing; they made it between neighborhoods almost instantly. At each of the neighborhoods, Jazz would take the armload of gifts designated for the local children, and then race from house to house distributing them.
The stress of the situation seemed to help her turn on the speed more reliably, at least. Grace filed that piece of information away. Jazz’s stress about her powers had probably been part of why she’d been having such a hard time with them.
And part way through the night, she actually seemed to start having fun. When she got back to the sleigh (where Grace waited with the reindeer), she started mentioning things about some of the families she’d visited, if briefly. The toys all seemed perfect for the children they were being left for, things that the children genuinely wanted, rather than what adults would have picked out for them. That could be rare, for some kids.
After they’d reached the halfway point of the night (which was even longer than usual, as they raced the sun, crossing timezones to follow Christmas Eve night to finish their work before Christmas morning,) Jazz seemed completely delighted by the task. The different traditions she could see on display in households. The decorations. The variety of cookies and other treats left out for Santa, so many different family recipes and favorites. She brought some of all of them with her, saying at least they could give those to Santa, so he didn’t miss out. Lots of households left carrots and apples for the reindeer, and she gave those to the team pulling the sleigh.
Finally, they made the last deliveries, just as the light of Christmas dawn was starting to show in the eastern sky in this last region.
They had to rush back to their building, ‘parking’ on the roof, and cautiously returning to their apartment. They found Santa Claus awake, and neither of them knew what to say, and then they both began to apologize, words tangling together and competing, both trying to take the blame.
Santa didn’t even reply at first, he just stood, and reached out to pull both of them into a hug. He smelled like Christmas cookies and cinnamon, and it was one of the best hugs Grace had ever gotten.
“I think you righted your wrongs admirably,” he said. “You did what you could to help others, and I think you even learned something from the experience. I just hope the next time you’re slated to learn a lesson, I don’t have to get hit over the head.” He laughed, and the sound was every bit as rich and warm as it had ever been described. "You’re both off the naughty list. Now let's all have a Merry Christmas.”
[This got a minor SPAG and word choice edit in 2023 when it was posted.]
The prompt was: "If it’s a fanfic, make it an AU: One of your characters develops superpowers, and Charlie Brown-esque, accidentally puts Santa Claus (or a St. Nick-ish figure) out of commission. Now they have to fill in for them for the night. (If your character’s not Christian, take the opportunity to make several ironic jokes… I know I will!)"
Summary: Grace just wants Jazz to feel the magic of the holidays, both despite and because of the stress that's consumed her life. Unfortunately, there are some unintended consequences to the attempt.
Fluffy, fantasy.
“I just… really want her to enjoy the holidays after everything that’s been going on,” Grace finished with a sigh.
Her grandmother’s spirit hovered just a few feet in front of her, giving her a thoughtful look.
“Are you sure that adding something else supernatural to the mix is really the best way to do that?” the ghost asked. “The supernatural—of whatever sort—is what created the stress in the first place.”
Her grandmother was right. No one knew how it had happened, just one day about a month before, people had woken up with… superpowers. X-man style, pretty much. Some were a bit nonspecific, like Grace’s had proven to be; she could sometimes make things happen by willing them to do so. Also, she was talking to her grandmother, who had died about three years back.
Jazz, on the other hand, had gotten super speed. She hadn’t yet figured out the triggers to activate it, which had led to several frustrating days of missing her destinations by accidentally speeding miles away in seconds, and then having to walk back the old-fashioned way when she couldn’t trigger it again.
Now it was creeping toward December 25, and even though neither of them was religious, Grace still wanted to celebrate Christmas. It was maybe a little immature, but she’d always believed strongly in some kind of holiday magic around this time of year, some kind of spiritual presence that she felt to the core of her. The kind of magic that made kids believe in Santa and flying reindeer, that made everything feel like it could be as wonderful as the world portrayed in a classic carol.
Jazz was proving to have absolutely zero holiday spirit at all, not even wanting to put up a tree or lights. She was so stressed about her new power that she sometimes avoided even getting out of bed, terrified that she’d accidentally speed into a wall (again), leaving her with a goose-egg on her forehead and probably losing them their security deposit.
When Grace had tried to talk to her, Jazz had said that she needed proof of the holiday spirit and magic that Grace was talking about. She said that she’d believe in a holiday miracle when she saw one, and until then, she was content to play the Grinch. She’d be more willing to play along some other year, maybe, if she got this speeding under control, but she just couldn’t put on a happy face under the circumstances.
Grace understood, and she didn’t want to push Jazz to act a certain way, but… the holidays and the feeling they gave her were one of the most comforting, glowing feelings Grace had ever known. If Jazz could feel that too, then she just knew it would make her feel better.
Her grandmother’s spirit cleared her throat politely. Not that a ghost even had a throat to clear, making it even more obvious it was solely to get Grace’s attention. “You know, girl, the least you could do is pay attention when I’m bothering to be visible right in front of you.”
“Sorry, Gram. Will you help me?”
“Why Santa Claus?” her grandmother asked.
“Well, I’m not going to ask Jesus to appear to her,” Grace laughed.
Her grandmother didn’t seem to think it was quite as funny as Grace did, but it looked like she was suppressing a smile. It was harder to tell on the blue-white figure that looked almost like an unfinished sketch of the grandmother she’d loved her whole life.
“All right. I’ll do my best to help bring about the manifestation of Christmas cheer. But if this backfires, it’s on you alone, I hope you realize that.”
Grace nodded, and between one breath and the next, her grandmother had vanished.
She closed her eyes and envisioned as hard as she could, Santa Claus. The dominant cultural depiction of him, and the good will warm feelings he symbolized. And sending it all towards Jazz.
It was late on Christmas Eve when a sound in the living room woke both Grace and Jazz. Jazz was up and out of the room before Grace had even woken enough to sit up. As she sat up and looked toward the hall, she saw Jazz seem to just appear in the hallway, and then rapid-speed toward the living room.
Grace got up to follow, much more slowly by comparison. But she had a sudden idea of what might be in their living room, if her and her grandmother’s efforts had paid off. Their apartment didn’t have a fireplace or the accompanying chimney, but they did have a balcony. If Jazz was about to have a genuine encounter with the embodiment of holiday cheer, Grace did not want to miss it.
She rushed down the short hallway, reaching the living room just in time to see Jazz, holding a heavy hardcover book like it was a weapon, rush forward in a motion blur to slam into a red-garbed man. The man collapsed backwards, having been hit with a hefty book moving faster than a car on the interstate.
Jazz stood over the other figure, brandishing the book like she was ready to take a second shot. Then she got a really good look at the figure, and the book fell to the floor.
She looked up at Grace with wide eyes. “Babe, I think I just killed Santa Claus.”
Jazz had not killed Santa, it turned out. But he was unconscious, and they could not wake him. Just to be on the safe side, Grace even called on her grandmother, who confirmed that Santa was not in any danger of dying (wasn’t he immortal? Could he be killed?), but that didn’t solve the immediate problem.
Grace’s grandmother didn’t offer any additional assistance. She just glared at Grace and reminded her, “It’s on you.”
They got Santa as comfortable as possible, on their couch, covered in a throw blanket. Even unconscious, Grace was filled with a sort of warm, bubbly feeling. It made her want to hug the man. Hopefully he’d still let her do that after he woke up.
“Did it ever occur to you that rushing full-speed—which is considerable for you—at someone while brandishing a weapon is not the appropriate way to meet someone?” Grace asked.
“I thought he was an intruder. He was an intruder! Shit, I didn’t think that Santa, who is, surprise, apparently real, would be in our living room! And it’s not like I can control the speed thing anyway. I wasn’t planning to hit him like that.” Jazz was pacing, running her hands through her long, dark hair repeatedly. Every few repetitions of her path across the floor, she’d sort of flicker into her super speed, and practically teleport across the room.
“But you do see that he’s real, right?” Grace asked. This was emphatically not how she’d planned this to go, but it had to still count as proof of concept. Santa was real, holiday magic was real, that should still mean something.
Jazz did not seem to be feeling the magic. “What the hell are we going to do? This is Santa. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“You are so on the naughty list,” Grace said, meaning it to be teasing. But then she had to admit with a cringe, “I bet we both are.”
“Oh my god,” Jazz said, stopping her pacing and clenching her hands in her hair. “But there are plenty of kids out there who aren’t on the naughty list. And now Santa is unconscious in our living room, and all those kids are going to have the worst Christmas ever!” She looked like she was about to cry.
“Shit,” Grace said, the full implications of the current situation hitting her like a ton of bricks. There was no way they were going to be able to get the gifts to the kids who needed them. Then she got just the beginning of an idea… “Just how fast can you run?”
It was the longest night of Jazz’s life, and it felt nearly as long for Grace.
Sure enough, as per the traditional cultural incarnation of Santa, parked on the roof of their apartment building there was a sleigh hitched behind a team of reindeer, the bed of the sleigh filled with bags of toys and other gifts. The animals were docile, and Grace did her best to explain the situation to them. They were magic reindeer so maybe they’d understand her. She tried her hardest to envision them understanding and cooperating, and then they set off.
The reindeer seemed to have some similar power to Jazz in addition to the whole… flying thing; they made it between neighborhoods almost instantly. At each of the neighborhoods, Jazz would take the armload of gifts designated for the local children, and then race from house to house distributing them.
The stress of the situation seemed to help her turn on the speed more reliably, at least. Grace filed that piece of information away. Jazz’s stress about her powers had probably been part of why she’d been having such a hard time with them.
And part way through the night, she actually seemed to start having fun. When she got back to the sleigh (where Grace waited with the reindeer), she started mentioning things about some of the families she’d visited, if briefly. The toys all seemed perfect for the children they were being left for, things that the children genuinely wanted, rather than what adults would have picked out for them. That could be rare, for some kids.
After they’d reached the halfway point of the night (which was even longer than usual, as they raced the sun, crossing timezones to follow Christmas Eve night to finish their work before Christmas morning,) Jazz seemed completely delighted by the task. The different traditions she could see on display in households. The decorations. The variety of cookies and other treats left out for Santa, so many different family recipes and favorites. She brought some of all of them with her, saying at least they could give those to Santa, so he didn’t miss out. Lots of households left carrots and apples for the reindeer, and she gave those to the team pulling the sleigh.
Finally, they made the last deliveries, just as the light of Christmas dawn was starting to show in the eastern sky in this last region.
They had to rush back to their building, ‘parking’ on the roof, and cautiously returning to their apartment. They found Santa Claus awake, and neither of them knew what to say, and then they both began to apologize, words tangling together and competing, both trying to take the blame.
Santa didn’t even reply at first, he just stood, and reached out to pull both of them into a hug. He smelled like Christmas cookies and cinnamon, and it was one of the best hugs Grace had ever gotten.
“I think you righted your wrongs admirably,” he said. “You did what you could to help others, and I think you even learned something from the experience. I just hope the next time you’re slated to learn a lesson, I don’t have to get hit over the head.” He laughed, and the sound was every bit as rich and warm as it had ever been described. "You’re both off the naughty list. Now let's all have a Merry Christmas.”
[This got a minor SPAG and word choice edit in 2023 when it was posted.]
