Secret Santa 🌲
Summary: You're the new Detective in Marshall's station and he's cold towards you. But for Christmas, Rachel Chase devises a plan to fix all of that. With Secret Santa.
Pairing: Walter Marshall/Reader
Word Count: 3.1k
Warning: G - COTTON CANDY GOODNESS, Grumpus!Marshall, Language, Mention of Homicide, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers?, Shady Behavior, Workplace Romance, Alcohol, Christmas Fic, Cold Work Environment, Kissing
Inspiration: MERRY CHRISTMAS! If you know anything, Grumpus is a World of Warcraft monster! Nerds Unite!!
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!
If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’
You had been transferred to what felt like the middle of frigid, bum fuck nowhere of Manitoba, from British Columbia, because your boss had thought it would be a good career move for you. Giving you experience outside of the department you had been assigned straight out of the Academy, four years earlier.
Of course, you felt differently.
Just becoming comfortable in your department, with the boys starting to respect you; and not giving you that extra cold shoulder, because you were a rookie and a woman. You had just been accepted as a cold case investigator a month before Captain Dueck handed over your transfer papers, uprooting you halfway across the country.
But even with that, almost all of the employees at your new station were charitable and accommodating towards you. They welcomed you on your first day, as if you had been working there with them for years. Commissioner Harper, the boss, was no nonsense, but he was still friendly and gave you a warm greeting, whenever the two of you met in the hallways or out in the parking lot. Rachel, the department's psychologist, was even more companionable, always popping into your office, if she didn't meet you elsewhere in the building to say hello. Sometimes bringing you a cup of coffee or a pastry.
The only unfriendly entity in the office, that always regarded you with a grunt, eye roll, lifted brow or a sigh, was Detective Walter Marshall. He was a hulk of a man, thick with muscle underneath his knitted sweaters and tight jeans. But underneath that was nothing but a grump of the highest degree. Rachel tried explaining that Marshall was really a good guy, but he'd seen a lot as a homicide detective and former SWAT leader. That he had a chip on his shoulder from a nasty divorce with his ex, Angie, how he was bitter with the little he saw his daughter, and the strained relationship between them.
Despite Fae being Marshall's light in the dark.
You called bullshit on most of it. At first, Marshall was just bitterly indifferent towards you. He'd speak to you, if and only, when he needed to. Other than that, Marshall's replies to you were guttural sounds and facial expressions. You were incredibly annoyed by it for the first several weeks, but after that you just got over it. Learning what each sound and look meant. It wasn't until you discovered a cold case had a connection to a case Marshall was on, that you saw things change between you and him.
It was the case of Monika Wagner, who had disappeared eight years before, in Headingley. There had been no solid evidence at the sight of her disappearance, other than three walnut beads found on the ground, with her jacket. It was when you saw the suspect in Marshall's murder case, rubbing at rosary that it clicked in your mind. You rushed to the evidence lock up, scouring the boxes for Monika's, and tore the red tape seal off of the lid, digging through the contents for the small baggy that held the three beads.
“Marshall!” You barked, out of breath as you bent forward, wheezing to catch your breath.
He stood there, waiting for you to recover, brow lifted at you.
“Your su-suspect...” You gasped, holding up the clear evidence bag. “He's ta-taken another girl before, I'm s-sure of it.” You gulped, straightening and looking up at him.
“Why do you think that?” He asked, taking the bag from you and studying the small, black beads.
“The rosary he's rubbing.” You said, licking your lips. “I'd bet my career they're made of the same walnut of these ones, and these are from a cold case, eight years ago, in the same city he murdered your victim.” You explained to him, staring expectantly at him.
Marshall stared at you for a moment longer, which you knew was just him making sure you weren't wasting his time, before turning on his heels and storming down the hall into the interrogation room, where the suspect was being held. You started to follow, but he put a hard stop to that, with a sharp side glance, before slamming the door shut. Huffing, you scurried into the viewing room and watched from there.
He set the evidence bag on the metal table, the middle aged, bald male was cuffed to and regarded him for a moment, judging him for any reaction. The man looked at the three beads, he seemed confused for a second, before a creeping look of surprise seeped into his eyes and he shifted uneasily in his chair, gripping the rosary in his hand. Marshall nodded his head, pushing his bearded jaw forward. It was all he needed to confirm you were right, before taking the bagged beads and walking out.
“I told you.” You said, meeting him in the hallway, proud of yourself.
“Yeah.” Marshall grunted back, moving past you.
You thought after that, Marshall would be a little warmer towards you. You had helped him put his suspect away, cementing even more evidence against the guy. But instead, he'd only gotten colder. In fact, you would have been warmer standing out in a Manitoba blizzard in your socks, than the chill Marshall started giving you. You didn't understand and you didn't know how to go about talking to him about it.
How do you talk to someone with an almost nonexistent vocabulary? You don't, that's how!
So, the two of you just started avoiding each other at all costs. You even took a different shift as Marshall. Which was an achievement, since the brute rarely took time off to go home, so he could sleep and shower.
But then, Christmas came around and Rachel, being her good nature self and a “need to fix it” psychologist, decided to do something about the elephant between you and Marshall.
“We're going to do Secret Santa!” Rachel declared as she popped into your office one morning, in mid-December.
“Oh.” You gulped, looking away from your computer monitor. “I've never done that before.”
“Your other precinct didn't do it?” She asked, stepping further into your room.
“No.” You shook your head, chewing on your lip. “If we were going to give each other presents, we just gave them to each other.”
“Well, we do it around here.” She explained, holding out a slip of paper to you. “This is your special person.” She smiled, a glint in her eyes as you took it from her.
“All right.” You answered, taking it from her and unfolded it. “Oh fuck.” You groaned, shoulders slumping as you read the name inside. “It got--”
“No, no!” Rachel cut you off, giggling. “No one is supposed to know. Just you. So, good luck on finding a gift for your person.” She smirked, before breezing back out of your office.
“Yeah, what do you get the biggest Grumpus in the office? Coal.” You sighed, tossing the paper on your desk and rubbing your face, already overwhelmed.
You had two weeks to figure out what to get your Secret Santa, which wasn't a lot of time. Two years wouldn't be enough time to figure out what to get him, let alone that short amount of time. You wrecked your brain all day for what you could buy, forsaking the report you were supposed to be filling out for Amazon Prime. But it was useless, you had no idea what would be remotely useful to him or peak his interest.
“It's hopeless.” You huffed, rubbing your eyes and looking at your watch. “He'll just have to settle for coal.” You mumbled, shutting your computer off and stretching to your feet, joints popping for sitting so long.
Grabbing your coat, you locked your office and headed down to the parking lot, gasping and shivering as the blustery wind wrapped around you at full force. There was easily two feet of snow outside, but thankfully the walkways were shoveled and salted. However, on your way to your car, you ran into the fruit of your current issue.
“Don't you wear gloves?” He asked, locking up his truck as you tried blowing warmth into your bare palms.
“No.” You answered, glaring at him. “My car is right here. It's not that bad.” You told him, hitting the unlock on your key fob.
“Hm.” Marshall grunted, before continuing towards the station.
“Coal.” You growled, getting behind the wheel and slamming your door. “I'm getting that Yeti coal for Christmas!” You hissed, watching him head inside, before noticing the hypocrite wasn't even wearing a beanie over those wild curls of his.
It was honestly two of the fastest weeks of your life, and that was saying something, since the Academy stressed you out beyond belief. But in those two weeks, you had finally figured out what to get Grumpus Walter Marshall for Secret Santa.
It hadn't been easy either!
Now, it was time to exchange it to him at the station's annual Christmas party, that you were in all truth, slack jawed to see Marshall attend. Though, you weren't shocked to see him in his signature black shirt and jeans, while everyone else wore something festive, like ugly Christmas sweaters, Santa hats or Reindeer antlers. Some of the gifts were sitting on a designated table, to be picked up by their person, whenever they wanted to stop by and grab it, while others happily and excitedly rushed over to their Secret Santa with their gift thrust out.
You had come with your gift in a small, brown colored bag with red reindeer printed all over it, sealed shut with a small bit of clear tape. You carried it around with you for an hour, trying to work up the nerve to move over to Marshall's broody corner, where he was sipping a paper cup of eggnog and glaring at everyone with a watchful eye. But you hadn't managed it. So, you went from one cluster of co-workers to another, wishing them Merry Christmas and giving out hugs, nibbling on homemade and store bought Christmas cookies, and nursing a cup of Spiced Cider.
“So, I see you still have your gift.” Rachel said, over your shoulder, as she came up behind you, taking a drink of her hot cocoa.
“I do.” You replied, biting your lip and fighting the urge to glance over at Marshall.
“Well, why haven't you given it to your person yet?” She asked, grinning like the cat about to get the mouse.
“Um--” You floundered, taking a deep gulp of your cider.
“Go on, before they leave.”
You looked at her. “How do you know they're even here?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at her, then finally saw the meaning to that glint in her eyes. “You rigged it.” You gasped at her, mouth falling open.
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Rachel chuckled, shrugging her shoulders.
“You purposely made sure I got that grouch.” You scoffed at her, outraged.
“There's many grouches-”
“Rachel!” You barked, eyes flaring as you nudged her with your shoulder.
“Oh, all right!” She relented, laughing at you. “Yes, I made sure you got him as your Secret Santa. Big deal. Maybe it'll warm things up between the two of you.” She pointed out, pressing her lips together. “The aura around you two is palpable. The whole office feels it. I'm just trying to help fix it.”
“Is it that bad?” You asked, suddenly feeling aware of your co-workers closeness.
“It's not anything toxic. But people know something strained is going on between the two of you. Even the Commissioner commented on it.” She confessed, looking a little reluctant.
“Oh god.” You squeaked, glancing over at your boss. “All right, I'll go over and give it to him.” You sighed, gulping down the rest of your drink. “Wish me luck.” You grimaced, setting the empty cup on a table in front of you.
“You're going to need it, he's heading out.” Rachel replied, pointing to Marshall as he moved through the crowd.
“Crap!” You gasped, twisting around and going after him. “Excuse me! Pardon me! So, sorry!” You said, frantically weaving through people, trying to get to Marshall before he could leave, rushing to the door of the conference room the party was being held in just as it swung shut.
“Marshall!” You yelled out, dashing into the hallway.
Marshall stopped, just before rounding the corner to his office, and turned to the sound of your voice. He lifted a brow as you rushed towards him, your eyes bright from your cider consumption. He was about to ask what you wanted from him, before noticing the gift bag in your hand and his massive shoulders slumped, understanding.
“You're my Secret Santa.” He whispered, looking down at you with tired eyes, he clearly hadn't gone home after his shift.
“Yee-ah.” You nodded, biting your lip.
He rolled his jaw and nodded back, holding his hand out for the bag.
“Look,” You started, handing it over. “I'm not good with presents. I don't have—I don't do them back home. So, I'm sure you'll hate it and it was a stupid idea.” You rambled watching him break the tape seal and reach in. “I don't even know why I bothered making it. I should've just bought you a gift card for Timmy Horton's or something.”
Marshall didn't answer, instead he pulled out the black and grey umber, knitted beanie you had made him, with your own two hands. He didn't say anything, he just stood there holding it and staring at it for the longest time. You couldn't tell if the expression on his face was a good one or not either.
“I knew it was stupid.” You blurted out, your anxiety hitting the roof. “I'm sorry. Do what you want with it. Just forget about it.” You said, quickly turning on your heels and hurried back to the party.
As you ran off, you missed the look on Marshall's face, one of confusion and like you had punched him in the heart somehow. Gently putting the beanie back into the bag, he turned and carried on to his office, to the task he'd been on before you stopped him. He unlocked his door and set his gift down, going into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out a small box, covered in white and pink snowflake wrapping paper. He cleared his throat, holding it for a moment, feeling his palms clam up. Glancing at your gift on top of his desk, before leaving his office again, he carefully tucked the box in his back pocket.
He returned to the party, scanning the crowd until he spotted you, by the refreshments table, going for another cup of Cider. Taking a deep breath, he moved through the crowd and stopped beside you, startling you for a second.
“Jesus.” You gasped, composing yourself.
“Could I speak to you?” He asked, with his usual hard and guarded expression. “Privately.” He added, glancing at the few people close by.
You regarded him for a moment, before sighing. “Fine.” You nodded, brushing by him and heading towards the quieter side of the room. “What is it? Come to give me crap about my gift or something?” You asked, instantly defensive.
Without answering, Marshall pulled the gift from his back pocket and held it out to you, lifting a brow, when you didn't immediately take it from him. You were too shocked to realize you had apparently been his Secret Santa, to grab it from him. Your eyes darted around the gathered police force to spot Rachel, who was grinning at the pair of you.
“Sneaky.” You mumbled under your breath.
“What?” Marshall frowned, cocking his head at you.
“Nothing.” You replied, taking the box from him finally. “So, I was your Secret Santa.” You said, carefully peeling back the paper.
“Yeah.” He nodded, watching you carefully. “My daughter thought the paper was cute.” He said, offhandedly. “She even helped me wrap the gift, since I'm not great at it.”
You looked up at him, caught off guard. “It's really cute.” You answered, blinking at him, unsure what to do with that bit of personal information, as you continued unwrapping.
Marshall held his hand out, taking the paper from you, once you finished unwrapping his gift. His blue eyes shifting, they were soft and curious, watching you examine the present he had gotten you. It took you a moment to understand what the device was, but once you did, it genuinely made you chuckle.
“It's a rechargeable hand warmer.” Marshall explained, biting his lip. “Since you seem to refuse to wear gloves.” He grinned at you, for the first time since the two of you met.
You smiled up at him, laughing even more. “It seems we've both given each other practical gifts.” You pointed out, amused to no end.
“It would seem so.” He agreed, his face transforming into something so much more handsome, when he allowed himself to smile and be happy. “I do like my present, by the way. I've never had anyone personally make me something before. It's very thoughtful and will no doubt keep my head warm.”
“I love my gift as well.” You assured him, looking down at it. “I look forward to using it.”
“Ooo!!” Rachel called out, suddenly, catching your and Marshall's attention. “You and Marshall are under the mistletoe!” She chuckled, pointing to the sprig of plant above you.
You dropped your head back and gulped. “Oh fuck.”
A smirk tugged on one side of Marshall's mouth. “Well, tradition is tradition after all.” He said, looking down at you, a coltish look in his blue eyes. “That's if my Secret Santa will grant me one more gift tonight?”
“Hm, I don't know.” You cooed, narrowing your eyes at him. “You've been a right Grumpus this year.”
“I'll be better next year.” Marshall answered, the sparkle growing brighter.
You smirked at him, a fluttering in your stomach pulling you towards him, realizing he was in love with you. “I'll hold you to that.” You replied, lightly wrapping your arms around his hips. “Or it's coal, next year.” You said, offering your lips to him.
“Can't have that.” He chuckled, dipping his head to capture your lips, kissing you deeply, and hugged you snug against him.
The office hooped with excitement as you kissed, and Rachel laughed, knowing her plan had worked.
