Even Santa Has His Limits

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no harm intended, no profit made.


Even Santa Has His Limits

Colin looked up into the sky and, with a drunken snarl, threw the empty bottle at the sleigh outlined against the moon.

"And fuck you too, Santa!"

The bottle shattered against the bricks, but Colin didn't notice. He was too busy backing up, his wide eyes focused above the rooftops as he wondered how it was possible for a sleigh to leave skidmarks in mid-air.

His heel hit a wall and he could go no further. He watched with a nervous twitter in his stomach as the shiny red contraption parked in front of him, eight reindeer pawing at the stones of the street, each one looking as if they were waiting to tear a chunk of flesh from his arm. A large man gracefully stepped out of the sleigh, twinkling blue eyes narrowed as he approached the quickly-sobering Irishman.

"Have something you want to say to me, Farrell?"

Though he knew the smart thing to do would be to turn away--especially considering who he was facing, Colin Farrell had never backed down from a fight in his life. Standing tall, he placed his hands on his hips and met the jolly old elf glare for glare. "Yeah, I've got something to say to you. All my life, you've given me nothing but fucking coal. How can you look at what I've done and still think that’s all I deserve?"

"Colin Farrell, you've been the headliner on my naughty list for almost your entire life, and you think I owe you something other than coal?"

"Yeah, I do."

Arching an eyebrow, the man's belly quivered as he appeared to waver between kneeing Colin in the balls and bursting into laughter. He settled on a sigh.

"All right. I didn't want to do this, but seeing as how you've been so good to that boy of yours, I suppose I can relent just this once." Walking over to the sleigh, he picked up a large red velvet bag from the back and, hefting it over his shoulder, returned to the waiting Irishman. "But first, you have to apologize."

"Apologize!"

The Saint scowled at him. "Nobody tells Santa 'fuck you' without repercussions. An apology, Farrell. Now. And you'd better make it sincere."

Colin swallowed hard, shifting from one foot to the next, his fists clenching and unclenching until he felt he'd finally gained control over his mouth. Through grinding teeth, he managed to eke out an apology. "I'm sorry for what I said. . . you sadistic old geezer," he added under his breath.

"I heard that."

"Well, whaddya expect?" Colin snapped. "I'm no good at this shite."

"You're going to have to learn if you expect to keep this present."

"You mean my brand new storage bin to keep all that fucking coal in?"

"Gee, I wish I’d thought of that, you miserable brat. All I’m saying is that you'd better be damn good the rest of the year, Farrell, or I'm taking your present back."

Setting his sack on the ground, Santa untied the golden rope at the top and pulled the bag open.

"There's nothing in there!"

"Back off, kid, or I'm outta here."

Sulking, Colin crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Santa lifted the edge of the sack up until it reached over his head and he was standing on his tiptoes. "You owe me, Farrell," St. Nick growled, then dropped the bag. Standing in the center of the folds of velvet was a young man with olive skin, bright brown eyes, curly brown hair, and the sweetest smile Colin had ever seen.

"You did it," he breathed, and Santa snorted.

"Of course I did. I'm Santa Claus."

"I. . . I don't know what to say. Thank you. It's the greatest present anyone's ever given me."

"You're welcome," he said gruffly, then gave Orlando a nudge. "Go on, then. He's waiting."

Pausing only to give Santa a quick hug, Orlando stepped out of the bag and began walking towards Colin.

"Hi," he said softly, and Colin grinned.

"Hi, yourself."

Rolling his eyes, Santa picked up the empty sack and slung it over his shoulder. "You two have a happy Christmas, and don't say I never got you nuthin'. That goes for the both of you."

"Both?" Orlando asked, tearing his eyes off the Irishman to look at the elf, and Santa smirked.

"You heard me, boy."

The two men turned from St. Nick to stare at each other with wonder.

"You wanted. . . me. . . for Christmas?" Orlando asked, and Colin's smile turned bashful.

"I've wanted you for the past three Christmases."

"That’s almost as long as I’ve wanted you."

They let the revelation sink in for a moment, then Colin grabbed him by the waist and just before their lips met, a clearing throat interrupted them.

"Here," Santa said, tossing a brightly wrapped gift at them. "You're going to need this."

And with that, he hopped back into his sleigh and with a shake of the reins, the reindeer took off. Merry laughter filled the air as Santa rode across the sky and disappeared with a golden burst of light.

"What is it?" Colin asked as Orlando unwrapped the package. The Brit took one look inside and started to laugh.

"Twelve boxes of condoms and half a dozen tubes of lube."

"Clearly, he has no respect for our prowess," Colin said in a deadpan voice, and Orlando gave a saucy smile.

"What, you don't think this will last us the night?"

Colin laughed and clasped Orlando to him once more. "I knew you'd be perfect for me. I just hope I'm good enough for you."

"You are," he said, mouth teasingly close to Colin's. "But I wouldn't object to a demonstration."

Chuckling, Colin brought their lips together with a Christmas kiss that filled their hearts with joy. Yeah, he owed the geezer big time for this, but as he held Orlando’s body against his, he knew it was worth it.

[Completed December 1, 2004]