#stevieweek

“I agree, Demi. Not having an adult to go to makes it scarier. But wasn’t it brave to keep going even though he was scared?”

Robin chirps and squeaks again. Flapping the puppet’s wings with the special pull cord, she maneuvers the bat around the stage to make it look like Demi is flying.

“Of course, Demi, I’ll always be someone safe for you to go to. I love you.”

Her eyes sting as she says it. God, she cries so much more easily these days. Fucking hormones.

The puppet shivers and shakes in a full-bodied chirp. I love you too.

A howl sounds from just outside the room. Signaling the end of this segment and the start of the next one. 

“Dart must hear someone at the door! Let’s see who’s come to visit.”

The pace is her favorite part of the show. Slow, easy. All done as much as possible in one smooth take. Stevie pushes herself up from the dark-patterned wingback chair, smoothing down her skirt, she walks from one room of the set to the other. The camera trails her, giving Robin a chance to move throughout the specially designed paths that keep her out of frame while she’s holding the Demi puppet.

Unlike Demi, Dart doesn’t that closely resemble his namesake. That was for the feds more than the children. Demi had some aesthetic changes to make her look more friendly, rounded body and visible eyes. Dart was changed fundamentally. Instead of the puckered fleshy face, Stevie can run a hand through sparse fur between two pointed ears. The animatronics Dustin helped their puppet master build let them move, giving the whole face more subtle movement than the other puppet is capable of. Good for the larger, German Shepherd-sized build. Even if the focus of the camera is usually on the face, the top jaw dog, wire-haired and angular, and beneath its pink nose, a split bottom jaw that opens in two wide, distinct joints. More cute than dangerous when a long forked tongue lolls out from it.

As Stevie’s thick rubber heels thunk against the floor of the set, Dart’s pit bull stump tail wags in its excitement at her approach. Back from college, Dustin is operating it today. He maneuvers the body so it faces her now that she’s come to get the door. The charmingly dumb look on its face gets her every time — a grin she has to school back to a more appropriately sized smirk. 

From off stage, someone cues Dart’s reminding bark.

“Has our guest arrived, Dart?”

Dart can nod when Dustin operates it. Always more sure than the rest of them about the intelligence that lurked beneath those demo creatures. Still, someone once again makes the appropriate answering cue.

Robin is standing outside the set, positioning Demi in a window. She chirps and flaps, Stevie’s cue to begin introducing who is behind the door.

“Today’s scary job will have us confronting our glossophobia, that’s our fear of public performance. If your palms get sweaty when you answer a question at school or you think about throwing up when you have a piano recital, we picked this job to give you a special scare.”

Never a theater kid, Robin teases her at how quickly she’s picked this up. Her cues, like this one to open the door, are always hit. She knows exactly what her face is doing, the way her dark lips hint at a smile, and the way the dark of her makeup makes something dangerous and anticipatory flash in her eyes. She’s yet to have a guest not spook just a little when the door swings open. The danger that she used to be humming under her skin was obvious to them when the sound and light cues hit, making the stage flash and sound with lightning and thunder.

It’s one of the joys of the job.

The outside of the “house” is dark, a dual-purpose choice to hide the sound lot that pairs with how nice it looks in post to have the first glimpse of their guest be in that horror movie strobe.

“Welcome home,” she says as always to the blackness outside her door. Thunder booms first, then lightning streaks, and she’s looking at someone who shouldn’t be here. “Eddie Munson, front man of the band Corroded Coffin.”

She steps numbly out of the way, letting Eddie through her door. 

Six years.

Dart rubs its head against her skirt, a move that would be accompanied by a whimper if it were able to make its own sound effects. As it is, she takes the comfort she can get from Dustin. Robin makes a trill; she's not a good enough actor to disguise the nerves in it.

It’s too much to deal with, so as with all things, she decides it’s better not to. There’s a procedure here, a routine. Stevie turns on her heel and starts walking to the set they’re supposed to be on. Eddie can fall into step behind her or, hell, maybe she’ll get lucky and he’ll run away. He’s always been good at that.

Stalking is what she’s doing; it might be what Eddie did too, to find his way over here. Hers means she’s moving too fast through the set for the pace they’re setting, the emotions she’s feeling moving her body like a rocket through the familiar frame of her pretend house. Eddie’s means he’s ruined her fragile peace.

It’s a real multifaceted word. Maybe they should use it for a show. Maybe they could get a zookeeper to bring a big cat on, too.

Eddie finds the guest’s seat at the table, sitting down across from her at the kitchen island, ruining the slight lift of her mood at the plans for a new episode with his continued presence.

He’s already got his hands in the spread on the table. Fingers smudged with the dyed red frosting, pinching a brownie carved into a coffin shape. It looks garish in the bright light of this set. The kitchen, the only set she refused to bow to the other aesthetics of the house. It unnerves instead in its rich, pastel, Stepford glory. Eddie looks just as out of place here -- even with the spiderweb detailing on the cabinets -- as he did in her kitchen in Hawkins.

“Good evening, Eddie,” she says what she’s supposed to say.

His mouth is full, his answer muffled in rich chocolate she baked herself before shooting.

“Why don’t you tell us about your band? I’m a big fan of your guitarist, Jeff Best.”

Jeff, the person who was supposed to be on the sound stage when she opened the door. The band member she had approved of, after being told by producers how enthusiastically the band had been supporting the show. How they wanted on, desperately.

She asks, “What’s the scariest part of your job?”

And asks, “Isn’t it frightening performing in front of thousands and thousands of people?”

And asks, “Are you ever afraid the stage will collapse?”

And asks, “Pyrotechnics are fires and fireworks that can be done inside, but aren’t you worried that something might go wrong?”

This segment has always been less of an interview and more of an exploration of worst-case scenarios. The things that frighten, the accidents that end up on the news, but rarely ever happen. A way to show the kids who tune in that the world can be scary, but it’s usually not. That fear of the coulds shouldn’t be the thing that keeps them from trying.

But she flings these worst cases at Eddie like knives, like saying they might manifest into coming true.

But each interview always ends the same way.

“What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever overcome?”

Eddie spins a chocolate eyeball around on the white china plate. It blurs with the movement until it’s just a white sphere moving around and around the border of fine, red blood splatter. Is he trying to figure out how to skirt his NDA? Is he inventing some stage diving accident or bar fight? Some story that will make him sound like the worldly rockstar the world knows him as?

Sure, he’s softened his aesthetic for this appearance. The only leather is his jacket. His wide-legged black pants, with the red and black brocade vest, straddle the line between professional and showman.

But he’s still Eddie, dungeon master drama queen to the last.

“The scariest thing I’ve ever done?” he repeats. Incorrectly to that point, done implies it’s scary because of his fuck up, overcome implies it’s the world. They’d workshopped the wording of that final question for days before her first interview.

Eddie continues, because if there’s one thing he’s going to do it’s continue whether she wants it or not. “The scariest thing I’ve ever done is go attempt to make amends with someone that I hurt very badly and hope that she’s good enough to forgive me.”

She’s supposed to ask a follow-up here, but she really doesn’t want to.

“Some of those were in the present tense, Mr. Munson.” She’s borrowing words from Robin now, stealing them from somewhere in her soulmate's brain because all Stevie knows is a blank rage that she hopes isn’t in her eyes.

That’s bad television.

“You’re right. The going has happened, the attempt is ongoing, and the fear is in both.”

A clock’s chime fills the room. Loud, sourceless, she’s taken to thinking of it like a school bell, and that’s better than remembering a grandfather clock and Max’s broken legs. Eddie flinches back, not that big a fan of the show apparently. Midnight ends every episode.

“Time sure flies, doesn’t it, Eddie?” A thump comes from behind them, a spot on the third wall out of the sight of the framing of their primary camera. Robin in position for her favorite job.

Stevie gives her her cue, “Gordon?” Robin, on her mark and her applebox, brings down the thick, fleshy, grey hand with the too-long fingers and the blackened nails onto Eddie’s shoulder. It’s weighted at the front, dislodges Eddie from his seat, and jostles him backward. “Introduce Eddie to the others? I know he’s just dying to stay for a while.”

Hand in place on Eddie’s shoulder, all Robin has to do is pull and he’s stumbling off stage like he’s on a vaudeville hook.

She blinks slowly, wills her blood pressure down. Her heart has been thumping in her ears since she laid eyes on Eddie, and even now that he’s technically off camera, she still can’t let go of her rage.

But there’s a show to finish, and she’s going to do her job. She can ignore Eddie’s big, brown eyes that somehow manage to haunt her even in the dark beyond the camera. She can turn down the camera, face it head-on.

She can. She does. “And don't forget: you're smarter than you think, braver than you feel, and you always have a friend right here. Until next time.”

She’s moving even before she can hear the director call, “Cut.”

“Whose fucking idea was this?”

“Not me,” Robin answers, gleeful at Stevie’s rage. She’s got Eddie still pinned in place with her long arm.

“Listen, Stevie, baby.”

“Nope,” Robin says, popping that P and giving Eddie a shake.

Not that anyone but Stevie would have heard that over the way she yells, “You don’t get to call me that.”

“Eddie, dude, not that it’s not good to see you, but I talked to Jeff,” Dustin comes out from the set with his hands already raised.

“And I saw that, Henderson, but don't fret, I wasn't offended. I figured you wouldn't mind if I remedied the situation myself.”

“Never let it be said you've ever learned a single lesson the easy way, Munson,” Robin says.

“Yes, and I'll be glad to catch up with you about that, Buckley. And with you, Henderson. But right now, I would love a moment with the talent. Stevie?”

It's on her tongue to say no again. To send him packing, the quest failed. Let him turn it into some ballad of spurned love and wretched harpies; she doesn't care.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t. She says, “Five minutes.” And stalks off toward her dressing room.

He doesn't jingle anymore. That strikes her somewhere in the chest. The sound of his trailing behind her, the same melody as hers, told in a round: thick rubber heels on a concrete floor.

She sits down at her vanity and starts stripping off the thick paint of her on-camera makeup. As she slathers on cold cream, she can see Eddie find a seat on the coffee table. It throws her back to that last summer together, getting caught in her mother’s bathroom by a boy she liked in ways she didn’t know how to say yet.

The more things change.

“Listen, Stevie.” It’s funny how she can still tell when he’s started a sentence, not knowing how he plans to end it.

“You came all this way and you didn’t think about how you wanted to actually apologize? Did you get so lost in the drama of crashing my set that you didn’t think of what would happen when it was over?” She keeps her eyes on him in the mirror as she says it, moving through her routine like usual. With each condemnation, she takes her hand towel and wipes a little bit more of Stevie, Princess of the Dark, away until she’s bare-faced, annoyed, and just Stevie Henderson again.

“No,” he lies. “I mean, maybe. Look, Steph, for what it’s worth.”

She grabs her normal makeup, the lightweight stuff that doesn’t have to look good to the limited eye of the camera or sell a character that she’s only sometimes.

“It’s not worth a lot, Eddie. Let me try to save you some time. We finally gave in and gave the band the time of day, you leapt in ass first without a plan, because I’m Princess of the Dark, Princess Stevie, Lady Stevie of the Night, whatever the fucking branding has decided this week so I’ve got the image now. I’m not some baby freak borrowing wardrobe pieces from her socialite mom and her dyke best friend, I’m the right kind of metal that perpetual bachelor, frontman Eddie Munson can be seen with now. Does that about cover it?”

“No, no, Stevie, I swear.”

She can’t even slam down what’s in her hands. The stupid spongy applicator from her eyeshadow would get lost, and if she breaks another one of the eyeshadow colors, she’ll lose her mind. Setting it down gently does nothing to temper the absolute, white out emotion she’s feeling.

“You swear? You swear. The way you swore nothing would change. The way you swore you’d leave on tour and come back with nothing but stories and homesickness. That was the tour that you called me from Wichita to tell me you weren’t coming home, and you didn’t think it would work out if we tried to stay together. In case you forgot.”

“It’s not-”

“This was after you told me you didn’t want me to come when I offered. That it would be stupid of me to leave my -- easily abandoned -- job at the record store. But why would you want the idiot you’re about to leave playing merch girl as you wandered through the Midwest.”

“Are you finished?”

She’s got brown eyeshadow on one eye, her cheeks are pinked, and it’s not from blush. She’s pretty far from done. “That foot-in-mouth condition ended up being terminal, I guess.”

“Stevie.”

She can’t storm out if her eyes aren’t done. A half-done face is one thing, but it’s at least got to be even.

“Stevie, you’re getting mentioned in the same sentences as Elvira, R.L. Stine. You’re Sesame Street if the face was the Count and not Elmo. That’s you, that’s all you. It’s something you created from the ground up with nothing but your charm and vision, and yeah, stunning good looks and a little bit of black mailing the United States government.

“If you had come with us back then, you know what you’d be? My muse, sure. You’d be the merch girl that people whisper about, and wonder how many of the band members she’s sleeping with to get to play groupie. They’d find out things about you, and if you were lucky, they’d just make your life miserable.”

She can’t believe this. “Are you really trying to pull some ‘I left you to keep you safe,’ that is the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Her face is done, she could leave. She’s given him more than the five minutes she promised. 

But then Eddie’s standing. No, he’s collapsing, off the table to her feet. Hands clutched in her skirt, looking up at her from the floor. “You’re right, it wasn’t about you. It was about me being the same coward I‘ve always been. You know what I’m most afraid of, Steph? That one day you would wake up in our rank ass tour bus and you would resent me for trapping you and all of your potential.”

The vanity counter bites into the meat of her hands. “It took you six years to come here and say that.” 

“Yeah, yeah, it did. And it was too long and it wasn't long enough. I would wait forever, Steph. It’s about who you are, not what you’ve become.”

“You’re contradicting yourself, Teddy.” He’s trapped her here, kneeling on her skirt the way he is. “Either you left so I could fill my full potential, which is pretty fucking bold to assume that everyone had that itch to leave Hawkins the way you did and that I wouldn’t have been just fine waiting tables or rewinding video tapes for the rest of my life. But it’s that or you love me no matter what, and it wouldn’t matter if I hung up the witch's broom.”

She’s feeling generous, and she likes how big and wide his cow eyes get when he’s desperate. It reminds her of different times. Eddie’s hand pulls hers off the vanity, and she lets him keep it. Let him pull it close to his chest. He’s probably imagining he’s some knight pledging some oath, and fuck even imaginging what he’s thinking endears her just a little bit more to him.

Letting him in was always going to be a mistake.

She’s never held a grudge as well as Robin.

“There isn’t anything you could do that would make me want you less.”

Still, in the last six years, she’s learned that even though she loves too hard and too long, sometimes it’s more important that she protect her heart. Like her head, it can’t take too many more beatings.

“You want a burger. You want a new record. You want a quick fuck with someone who knows what they’re doing. Wants are quick and fleeting, and sometimes they aren’t even that good. I can’t be a want, Eddie.”

He clutches her hand tighter. He drops his hold on her skirt so his other hand can grab her at the elbow instead. “Stevie, I need you. And if you send me packing, I’m still gonna need you. You’re it. You’re just- you’re it.”

“And if I didn’t follow you on tour, like some love-sick groupie? If I stayed here with the show, you couldn’t see me for weeks and months. You’d still need me?”

“Like air. I’ll call, I’ll write, I’ll come in and compose. I can be your first recurring guest or handle a puppet. Anything at your order.”

She can feel herself caving. Like a sink hole in her chest, the ground giving way to nothing but a yawning starvation. It’s been years, and she’s sunk all of her love and her care and the desperate need she has always had to be seen into this show. It was good, but there has always been so much of her to give.

So she spits back the worst thing he ever said to her.

“And I’m not just some stand-in for Chrissy Cunningham.”

She expects him to drop her arm. To scurry away like some frightened mouse now that the claws of the cat have dropped in front of it. To remember that before the tits and the smirky face she patterned off of Elvira, she was still always a mean girl.

The quiet collapse of Eddie’s face is less satisfying than the rage, the sadness in his eyes more like a kicked dog than an international rockstar.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” He says.

She could echo it, but hers needed to be said.

“If I thought you hated me, it was easier to leave. I could make you just one more thing I fucked up. I don’t see her when I look at you.”

She scoffs, and he pulls her closer.

“I don’t, Steph, I don’t. You’re not some damsel I couldn’t save. You’re the knight who rescued me. Let me make my oath, let me prove myself.”

“I want a new theme song. Something catchy, not metal. And you’re going to come on and do a special segment on the show about dealing with scary things, in terrible corpse makeup. Stop smiling, it’s not going to be fun.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it wretched.”

“I’m going to make you confront all the stupid shit you’re scared of and if you don’t act scared enough I’m going to bring in the rest of the band and tell them you’re the reason this is happening to them.”

“Gareth hates spiders, and Freak is scared of clowns.”

“And I want Jeff on the show. I had to cut out half of our interview questions about the things he’s had to face being black in the scene because you think you’re charming.”

He has the nerve to stand up, stepping on her skirt before he’s shoving his way into her space on the bench seat of her vanity. His hands are warm, fingers long and familiar as they curl around the curves she’s developed since they last saw each other.

“Whatever you want forever, Steph.” He whispers it into the side of her neck like he thinks he’s Gomez Addams, and she’s too weak to not be delighted.

“In that case, you can also explain all of this to Robin.”

“And when she kills me for wronging you?”

He pulled her off the couch and out into the front yard. She rubbed her eyes again.

“What the hell?” Dustin elbowed her. “Lay off, kid, my cussing is the least of our worries right now,” she hissed.

On the top of the house, there was a real sleigh with eight real reindeer. She blinked her eyes a bunch, then looked around for a camera crew or something.

“Hey look!” Dustin pointed up at the roof again, where a tall man in red had appeared. “It’s Santa! He’s real!” 

The shout apparently shocked him, and he misstepped, losing his balance and toppling off the roof.

They could only stand there as the man hit the ground in front of them, as they watched his body disappeared, leaving only the red suit.

“You killed him,” Stevie whispered.

“I didn’t mean to!” He cried, looking around starting to panic.

Stevie felt drawn to the suit, somehow knowing there would be an answer inside.

“What are you doing?” Dustin hissed at her.

“I have no idea,” she responded, but then held up a small card that was in a pocket of the suit. “Look.”

Dustin snatched it from her. “If anything happens to me, put on the suit and get in the sleigh, the reindeer will know what to do. What does that mean?”

She turned to go back inside, the rational part of her brain finally clicking on, but she ran into a ladder that had come from nowhere. “What the fu-“

Holding her head, Dustin came over to investigate. She almost laughed at the face he made, but then he was scurrying up the ladder to the roof. “Wait! Hey!” She called. Remembering the suit, she hastily grabbed it from the ground before climbing up after him.

The reindeer did not look impressed. The front one snorted as she appeared on the roof. “Same to you,” she scoffed. “Now what?” She asked Dustin.

“Put on the suit!”

She looked down at the pile of red in her hands. “No way, we’re going to leave all of this alone and go back inside and call the police and maybe your mom. This is nuts! This is just a dream, or like a hallucination.” The reindeer snorted again. “Shut up!”

Dustin, however, was standing inside the sleigh. “Come look at this!”

“Ugh,” she huffed, stomping over to climb up into the massive vehicle. “This is too much, we gotta go- woah!”

The reindeer had taken off, sending them down into the seat and flying so fast the lights around them turned into streaks. As suddenly as they had started, they stopped. They were on another roof, who knows where.

“Oh my god,” Dustin whispered. “We have to keep delivering the presents.”

“What?” She cried. The first reindeer turned around and nodded at her. “For real? How are we supposed to do that?”

“Put on the suit!” He pointed down at the floor where the red fluffy thing had fallen.

Something inside of her knew that was what she was supposed to do. With a sigh, she slid her legs into the pants, pulling them up. “This belt better be really freaking magic,” she muttered.

Tying the sash around her waist and then the belt, she held her arms out to Dustin who gave her a thumbs up. She turned around to show the reindeer, the front one huffing at her impatiently. 

“Alright, alright. Now what?”

Dustin threw something at her and she caught it, then screamed when Santa’s sack started floating over her head, taking her with it. “This is nuts!”

She blinked and she was being sucked down the chimney under her. “Holy shit,” she muttered, looking around the dark house.

There was a small child asleep on the couch, so she tried her best to walk silently in the big boots. She set the toys under the tree as quietly as she could, 

“Santa?” A tiny voice startled her. “Why are you a girl?”

She stopped short, toy doll in hand. “What are you, my dad? You want this doll or not? Go to sleep!”

The girl closed her eyes, but as Stevie turned to approach the fireplace, wondering how she was supposed to go back up, the voice behind her reminded her, “You’re supposed to eat the cookies and drink the milk.”

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Jeez kid, it’s my first day can you give me a break?”

Whipping around to find the small end table with a Santa-shaped plate, she grabbed a cookie and took a bite. While the child watched, she made sure to gulp a bit of the milk down.

“Merry Christmas, now go to sleep,” she grumbled.

Thankfully as soon as she stepped into the fireplace, she was pulled up by the bag and found herself standing on the roof again.

Dustin perked up when he saw her. “How was it? How’d you get back up?”

“Christmas magic, Dusty buns, obviously,” she sassed. 

Once she was sitting down the reindeer took off, but stopped at another house. “The bag is empty, guys! I-“ she picked up the sack to show them but found it heavy once more. “Oh man, this is going to be a long night.”

“Yeah, the best night ever!”

The novelty wore off at some point for Dustin, who curled up on the seat and fell asleep. Stevie rolled her eyes, figures.

“Oh shit, wake up dude, look at this!” She elbowed him until he blearily peeked one eye open. They’d stopped again, but this time not at anyone’s house. There wasn’t much to see, snow whipping around them. It felt familiar somehow, like a strange sense of Deja vu. But she’d clearly never been here before.

The reindeer took off, leaving the sleigh in the wind. “Hey! Take us home!” She looked finally down at Dustin who could only shrug.

“Look!” He pointed out into the horizon. She blinked the snow from her eyelashes, then rubbed her fists into her eyes. It couldn’t be. “It’s an elf!”

Whatever the stranger did, the sleigh was then lowered into a vast room full of people and noise.

“Santa’s workshop! I wish I had a camera!” Dustin whispered excitedly, looking around like he was instead trying to memorize every inch of the room.

“Excuse me,” Stevie called once they’d reached the ground. “Who’s in charge here?”

Deadpan, the closest person said, “You are.” Before walking quickly away.

“This is all such an amazing practical joke, but I’m ready to go back to reality now.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” A deep voice came from behind her. She spun, and gulped as the coat around her opened and she was reminded of her crop top and high waisted leggings as the attractive man’s eyes wandered over her.

He was a couple inches taller than Stevie, who was already towering over all of the people around them. The long dark wavy hair cascading past his shoulders over his dark flannel shirt gave him a grungier look than everyone else in the room in their more flashy outfits. What stole most of Stevie’s attention however were his dark eyelashes outlining his chocolate brown eyes.

“Who are you?” Dustin asked.

“Eddie,” he said shortly. “And you are?”

“Dustin. Dustin Henderson.” 

“Of course you are,” Eddie grinned, his eyes never leaving Stevie. “Okay Santa, lets get you more comfortable.”

“I’m not Santa,” she argued, but he had turned and was already walking away. She had to almost jog to keep up with him. “If that’s the problem, Dustin was the one who made him fall, I had nothing to do with it.”

“That’s not true!”

“You read the card, correct?”

“What card?”

Eddie huffed and pulled them into a room. “The card in the Santa suit. In putting the suit on, you fell subject to the Santa clause. You accepted the contract.”

She stared at him. “The contract? It was a tiny frolicking- filibustering- what?”

He smirked at her. “It’s Santa’s workshop, babe. No swearing.”

“You’ve gotta be sleighing me. Jiminy Christmas.”

Dustin piped up again, “How did she sign a contract? It was just a tiny card. She didn't do anything.”

“Thank you, Dustin. Do you have it?”

Stevie glared at them but stuck her hands in the pockets of the pants and pulled out the card in question. Eddie took it from her and placed it behind a magnifier on the table. “What does this have to do with the guy who fell off my roof?”

“Nothing, now. This isn’t about Santa Claus, the person, but Santa clause, the clause.”

“My brain is going to explode,” Stevie grumbled.

“It’s all here — In putting on this suit and entering the sleigh, the wearer waives any and all rights to any previous identity, real or implied, and fully accepts the duties and responsibilities of Santa Claus,” Eddie recited as the words without looking as she followed along on the card. 

“What does that mean?” She asked, knowing the answer.

“It means, you put on the suit, so you’re Santa.” He let his eyes wander down her again. “Albeit not the usual type, but you’ll do. Let me show you to your room.” They looked at each other for a long moment before he held the door open for them. 

As they walked down a winding hallway, he continued. “You’ll leave tomorrow morning. You have eleven months to get your personal affairs in order and you’ll be expected back here after Thanksgiving. I’ll send the list to your house.”

“The list? What list?”

Dustin again helpfully supplied, “You know! He’s checking it twice? Gunna find out who’s naughty and nice!”

The crowd of elves continued the song loudly, echoing around the huge space. “Santa Claus is coming to town!”

Eddie yelled menacingly, “Alright, get back to work!” Then he turned and winked at her. “This way, c’mon.”

The room was the coziest place she’d ever seen, full of soft fabrics and toys, the bed made up with more pillows and blankets than she could count. Dustin immediately crawled into a play tent in the corner and was snoring before Eddie appeared again with a pile of clothes.

“You’re not what I expected,” he murmured as she wandered over to the window.

She laughed, a little sardonically. “I get that a lot.”

Eddie looked upset for a moment, then it was gone before she could study him. “Not in a bad way, of course. Unfortunately it’s been centuries of boring old guys. I look forward to seeing what you bring to the position.”

She got lost in his sparkly eyes and he moved closer, seemingly just as interested. However as soon as she thought he’d lean all the way, he pulled back and shoved the clothes into her chest.

“Get some rest, Santa,” he said with a smile.

“It’s Stevie.”

The smell of coffee woke her, and when she stretched she almost toppled off the couch.

Wait. The couch?

“Morning, Stevie dear. How was your night? I hope Dustin didn’t give you too much trouble.”

She looked around, nothing seemed out of place at the Henderson’s. The tree, the sounds of Claudia tinkering around in the kitchen. Then Dustin made his appearance by sprinting down the hall and sliding on his socks through the dining room.

“Oh my god! You’re still here, and you’re in the pajamas!”

Claudia came out to see what all the fuss was. “Oh yes, very festive pajamas, honey. Did you bring those with you?”

Stevie looked down at herself, confused. She’d gone to sleep in her own clothes. Seeing the red satiny set made her jaw drop.

“It was real! Mom, last night Santa came! He fell of our roof and Stevie put on his suit and we delivered the rest of the presents! She’s the new Santa Claus! It was awesome! We went to the North Pole and we met the elves-”

They both stared at his mom as she held a hand up. She sent an unrecognizable look to Stevie and she knew she was in trouble.

“No, Dustin, it must’ve just been a weird dream. Maybe we ate too fast, or-“

He cut her off, running back to his room with a shout.

“Look at this! How is this not real?”

Stevie had to walk around his mom to see what he was holding. It was a gorgeous, old fashioned snow globe. As they all watched, Dustin shook it and a tiny sleigh pulled by reindeer flew across the atmosphere.

“Eddie gave it to me. He told me I had to take very good care of it for him,” he explained seriously. 

Claudia seemed even more concerned now, understandably. “Eddie? You brought a boy over here?”

“He’s not a boy, mom! He’s an elf! And no, we met him at the North Pole!”

Stevie could only stare at Claudia, unable to come up with any excuse whatsoever for this. “I-I’m sorry, Mrs. Henderson, this is all my fault. He got into some candy last night and we read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, he probably stayed up too late and had a strange dream. I promise nothing bad happened, and we didn’t have any guests over.”

“But Stevie!” Dustin stomped his foot and she immediately shook her head at him, begging him with her eyes to stop arguing.

“No, it’s okay, buddy.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat then looked back at Claudia. “And, I’ll understand if you don’t want me watch Dustin anymore. I’ll, uh,” she shook her head sadly. She wasn’t sure where the rest of her stuff was, or where the clothes she had changed out of were. 

Claudia sent Dustin to his room, and Stevie went home feeling miserable. What in the world had happened last night?

The next few months were intense. She couldn’t go anywhere without people staring at her, Claudia and Dustin were distant, and she was having very vivid dreams.

Claudia had taken it about as well as could be expected, for your eight year old to be obsessed with the idea that his babysitter was now Santa and talking about it and the North Pole throughout the spring, even after several adults sat him down to try to reason it out with him. Stevie had gotten this information from Nancy, whose mom had been called in as part of an emergency mom group to provide backup.

Stevie herself was changing. She’d gained about thirty pounds, but most of it went to her boobs, hips and ass. Everyone in town assumed she had been getting work done. She couldn’t very well explain what was happening, so she had to ignore all the whispers behind her back and the dirty looks. Her hair was suddenly lighter, too. It wouldn’t hold dye at all, creepily reverting back to the white blonde waves by the next day every time she tried. 

Then there were the dreams. A lot centered on delivering the toys, speaking with children and elves about toys, but there were a handful of others — where Eddie was featured — and they were unlike any dreams she’d ever had before. She’d wake up and her body would be sore and achy like she’d run a marathon in her sleep. 

“Thinking of me again, sweets?” Eddie’s deep voice rumbled against her neck as he stepped up behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist.

“Always,” she murmured happily before turning in his arms and meeting his lips.

It wasn’t long before their clothes disappeared in dream efficiency, and she was crying out as she was taken apart over and over.

Just as she had convinced herself that she was going insane, there was a knock on the door. A delivery man held a clipboard out to her and she scribbled her name without looking too closely.

The phone rang in the other room and she called out for the guy, “Just put it inside here, please.” 

After a few minutes on the phone, she realized she could still hear boxes being set down. 

“What is all of this?” She walked back into the entryway to stacks and stacks of red shiny boxes, some as tall as she was. 

The delivery guy was walking down the stairs of her apartment, waving to her. “Wait!”

But she sighed. Just her luck.

Going back inside, found a box that had an envelope attached. Here’s the list. Check it — twice! Yours, E

“Ugh, that bastard, how am I supposed to-“ she screamed as someone tapped on her shoulder. Spinning around, she was met with the smarmy grin of one particularly attractive elf. “Oh fuck, Eddie,” she gasped.

He stepped closer, flashing a grin at her and letting his eyes drift over her figure. “I do like the sound of that, sugar.”

She covered a moan with a small cough as the now familiar swoop in her belly made her think of her dreams.

“Do you happen to have, like, powers?” Stevie looked at him seriously.

He pushed her hair over her shoulder, tracing a finger down her jaw, making her shiver. “I like the new look, by the way. Suits you.”

“That isn’t an answer, you know,” she huffed. Her attention was drawn to the boxes around them. “Could you use your fancy magic powers to maybe, move these? Or shrink them? Robin already thinks I’m actually losing my mind.”

Eddie tapped his chin with a long finger, “I could, maybe. Where would you like them? Hypothetically, of course.”

“My bedroom?” She regretted it as soon as a feral grin appeared on his face. But where else could they go?

“Inviting me into your bedroom? Seems naughty.”

She shouldn’t have been shocked, but magically they were standing in her bedroom and all the boxes were stacked neatly against the far wall. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugged a shoulder, his eyes wandering down her figure. “Now back to the topic at hand. I think you’re the only new Santa who looks better after their transformation.” 

Stevie felt her cheeks heat, feeling underdressed in her own bedroom as Eddie continued staring at her. 

The feeling that always plagued her when she’d gotten this far with someone before crept up. She looked away, not wanting to ruin this but wanting to be clear from the beginning. It wasn’t as if Eddie knew her very well, or had been privy to the things she’d been dreaming.

“Uh, there’s probably something you should know, Eddie. A-about me, I mean,” she couldn’t look at him.

He reached for her though, tipping her chin up to look at him fully. “I think I might know already,” he said softly. “Dustin may have given me the shovel talk before you left on Christmas.”

“Oh.”

He spent another long moment staring into her eyes, while she was unsure of what to do next. “So, you don’t mind?”

Eddie shook his head, inching impossibly closer. “Definitely do not mind. I think you were made just for me, if I’m being honest.” He finally closed the gap between them, and Stevie gasped as her lips tingled against his.

Pulling back a tiny amount, he chuckled against her. “Sorry, elf magic. It’s hard to hold back, especially when I’m all worked up.”

Stevie shrugged and closed the distance again. It took another second before something sparked in her memory. “Hey, you wouldn’t be able to mess with dreams, would you?”

He winked and simply said, “I plead the fifth,” before pulling her closer by her waist and deepening the kiss.

His hands started wandering and she gasped again as the tingling spread wherever he touched. She had to pull away as he cupped her breasts through her thin cami, panting against his shoulder.

As his hands starting traveling down, a strange buzzing startled them.

“Nutcrackers,” Eddie swore. She giggled but then tried to see what he was looking at. A tiny pager-like object in his hand was blinking red and green. “I have to go. Read over the list and I’ll see you before you know it.”

She tried to hide her disappointment as she pulled him into another slow teasing kiss.

As the holidays approached, she slowly started realizing this may be real. She knew kids names without asking and knew if they were on the nice list or naughty list. Sometimes even adults. She had crazy sweets cravings, making more cookies in a week than she’d ever made in her life. 

“What is happening with you?” Robin asked again as she walked into the kitchen to find her baking again.

“Sweet tooth, what can I say?” 

Her roommate eyed her suspiciously. “Uh huh. You still think all of this is just side effects of your new meds? Maybe you should call your doctor back.”

“Yeah, maybe I should make an appointment,” she offered.

“Your hair looks even lighter than it did this morning when I left.”

Stevie hummed and set the timer for her cookies.

Pack whatever you can’t live without, I’m Santanapping you tomorrow. XO -E

She grinned at the note left on her bed, trying to decide what that meant.

At noon the next day, she blinked and almost fell over as she was standing in the cozy room at the North Pole instead of her apartment.

“Welcome home, honey,” Eddie teased her, coming up behind her and pulling her hair away from her neck to place his mouth there.

“You could’ve warned me, what if I was in the shower or something?”

His hands grabbed her waist and pulled her back into him. “You’re right, next time I’ll have to plan better. Bring you wet and dripping right to me,” he promised darkly.

“Oh frost, I mean- that’s going to get really old,” she whined.

“You get used to it, I’m afraid,” he laughed. “But you’re right. Come with me.”

They did garner some stares as he lead her hand in hand down the hall, but a quick glare or reminder to get to work from Eddie made the elves scatter.

Just as she was about to ask where he was taking her, he put his finger up to his lips and quietly opened a heavy door, pulling her inside.

Staying quiet, they got past a few elves in what she could now see was a stable. He grinned at her and pulled her up into a smaller sleigh. 

“Push this for me, sweetness,” he asked, pointing to a handle.

“Me?” He nodded at her and she complied, the sleigh starting forward as she did. “Holy snowballs.”

She flew the sleigh out the doors and above a snowy landscape. “This is amazing,” she breathed.

“I think you’re a bad influence on me,” Eddie chuckled.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, one of us definitely is.”

“Stop anywhere you’d like,” he suggested.

“Oh yeah…” She’d almost forgotten their adventure had been for a purpose. She let up on the handle, slowing down to look around for a spot.

Finally the sleigh settled in a small clearing surrounded by a ridge and trees.

“Very nice. You went secluded, I’d have thought you were a bit more of a show off.”

She laughed. “Maybe next time,” she teased.

“Oh really?” Eddie sassed back before pulling her to straddle his lap.

Predictably even though the sleigh wasn’t covered, they stayed warm and the wind didn’t touch them. She assumed it was the sleigh, but it also could’ve been Eddie.

His hands went to her waist, but quickly settled instead cupping her ass. “Can I compliment you again on your new Santa figure? I swear it’s like you’re my very own Christmas present. Maybe after seven hundred years I get something after all.”

Stevie pulled back to look at his face. “Seven hundred years?”

He laughed, nodding, but his eyes were serious. “Don’t look at me like that, most elves live thousands of years. I promise I’m not like robbing the cradle or anything.”

She glared at him. “That wasn’t really what I was thinking. I do like older men, for the record.”

He met her glare, pulling her closer. “Well I guess that settles it then. For the record, I’ve never done this with a human, much less a Santa.”

“Awww, a newbie, huh?” She stuck her tongue out and he leaned forward to nip at it.

“Watch it, baby.”

“Or what?”

She squeaked as her clothes disappeared with a snap of his fingers. Even though the cold wind wasn’t able to reach them, her nipples hardened and she got goosebumps.

“So gorgeous, Stevie,” he drawled, letting his gaze drag down her form. After a moment of enjoying the attention, she began pulling at his shirt, earning a small laugh as he shrugged out of his layers.

He was pale, his dark hair making his skin seem even lighter. She briefly wished they had a mirror, her light hair against his dark would be beautiful. He hung onto her tightly, then she realized his legs were bare. 

“Couldn’t wait any longer,” he explained. She rocked forward and they both cried out as their lengths slid against each other.

He leaned down to suck a nipple into his mouth and she groaned. “Fuck yes,” then she giggled once she realized she could swear again.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured. She rutted against him harder, but then backed off.

“Do you have, um, did you bring any-“

“Don’t need it.” He snapped his fingers again and her eyes rolled back.  He slid two fingers around her hole, where it was already slick and ready. 

“Oh my god,” she panted.

“Just Eddie will be fine, princess,” he teased. 

She groaned, pulling herself up with her hands on his shoulders. “Please fuck me already.”

Together they angled his cock so she could lower herself onto it, their mouths meeting as they settled into a rhythm. He apparently couldn’t help but squeeze at her, his hands never staying in one place. The tingling sensation traveling around her body was driving her closer and closer.

“Wait,” Stevie gasped.

He stopped, holding onto her and gazing up at her with his sparkly eyes. It took her a moment to remember what she wanted.

“Wanna, um, can we-?”

“Anything, beautiful,” he groaned.

She slid off of his lap, turning around to bend over the front of the sleigh. “Fuck, you’re perfect, baby. Look at you,” he growled as he stood. He grabbed handfuls of her cheeks and spread them, staring down at her hole before lining back up.

Unable to hold back, he pushed in roughly, Stevie having to hold on so he didn’t send her flying out of the sleigh. This angle was sending lightning up her spine with every thrust, and as she got closer, Eddie reached around to wrap a rough hand around her dick. The tingling was multiplied now and she knew she wouldn’t last.

“Gunna, oh fuck Eddie, coming!” 

He made a low keening noise as she clenched around him as she came, and after a few thrusts she felt him spill inside of her.

When she opened her eyes again, they were cuddled together in the huge bed back in the workshop.

“A girl could get used to this,” she murmured.

To be continued?