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Chapter Text

The first time Bernard laid eyes on Charlie, he could feel the pull. But it wasn't the time. So he swallowed his pride, his traditions, and the feelings coiling in his chest to help the new Santa instead. It made him snappy, short-tempered and quick to raise his voice for the first time in millennia. And, well. It hurt. It wasn't who he was or how he did his job. But right now it would have to be. He shows the new Santa to Judy and hurries off to his office, pacing the length of it once the door is locked. He won't say anything. Even if the boy -his mate, his thoughts sing- was old enough to understand what that meant, there's still the new Santa to worry about. He can't go around getting fired from his job for something like this, -so no one will know. Well. Not right now that is. If Charlie -the boy, he forces himself to think instead- doesn't resist or deny the bond eventually they'll find out. But for now that isn't the concern. Right now the concern is dealing with the fallout of the old Santa's passing.

He deals with that. Then he finds something else to take up his extra time and before he knows it the entire year has flown by, and Santa is back again, and this year he looks and acts like he should. This year he really is Santa. His son is with him, and it takes everything he has to wrench himself into reality and the fact that this is a child. So he treats him like the child he is, if an elf child and not a human one. When Charlie leaves, it hurts, like someone has shoved a dagger through his back again, but he only forces himself to work harder. He can't allow them to fall behind schedule, after all. Scott stays all year, and when the summer starts his son comes to visit.

The first day that he's there, Bernard tries to tell himself he'll only pop in to see him when he arrives and then get back to work, but that plan is thrown out the window as soon as Santa is called off right before Charlie arrives. And so he is left standing there to greet him. He's painfully aware of just how strained he sounds doing so, but tries to ignore it. As soon as the option arrives, he foists him on to Judy, trying to make it seem like he's busy, instead of just trying to escape. Of course, he can tell Judy can see through the lie, but she lets it go anyway. Thankfully. It's good to know she'll always be there if he needs her.

With things refusing to go according to his plans from the very beginning, he supposes he shouldn't be terribly surprised the rest of the summer doesn't go the way he wants it to either. For all his planning, he hadn't prepared for one thing: the feelings of Charlie himself. And while the boy was to young to feel much more than the need to follow his mate around whenever he had the opportunity, that didn't make it easier for said mate. Bernard's feelings were much the same as Charlie's, due to the age of the younger, but that hardly made it easier. If anything, it made it harder, when his instincts started screaming to carry off the boy and hide him away any time he comes near him. But he couldn't do that. Yet, as the days went on he also found he couldn't let himself get to far away from Charlie either. Whenever he did he felt awful and had terrible focus. So he resigned himself to his fate. At the very least it would keep his mate satiated for contact with him once summer was over and he returned to his mother's.

It turned out his mate's birthday was in the summer. He thought it suited the boy. Of course, that meant he went back to his mother's for two days in the middle of summer. And thus he found himself in the predicament of being clung to without fail for a week afterwards, no matter what he did or said. He supposed he should object to it, yet he couldn't bring himself to. By the end of summer he was always so used to Charlie's presence that for the first few weeks afterward he would find himself turning to mention something to him or simply expecting him to be there. Yet he always adjusted back to going through his days without anyone constantly looking over his shoulder. It went like that for four years. But, then, Charlie never returned after his twelfth birthday. It was as if he'd up and vanished. And he waits, he does, for as long as he can bring himself to.

As long as he can turns out to be two weeks. So he finds himself in Santa's office when he doesn't have to be. And he tries to word it carefully, delicately, but what comes out is this: "Was Charlie...going to be coming back this summer?" And he's sure it makes him look to concerned and is halfway to panicking when Scott looks up with a frown. "No." He answers, and it's just one word but Bernard is disproportionately affected, nearly biting his tongue in half in shock. "Why...not?" he can't resist asking, the need to know overpowering. "His mother." Scott says quietly, turning back to his paperwork in a clear dismissal.

Bernard barely makes it to his office before he hits the floor. His scrabbling fingers flip the lock on the door and he hauls himself to the bedroom behind his office and on to the bed. Every last inch of him is calling out for his mate, but he isn't here. Might not ever be here again. It hurts in a way he isn't familiar with, one entirely different from the pain he feels when Charlie leaves at the end of summer. He can only imagine how Charlie himself feels. If he feels like this, then how in Santa's Reindeer does his mate feel? He knows he can't stay here even until tomorrow morning, will have to go out and put on a brave face for the last inspection of the day, but he never wants to move again. The logical part of his brain knew this was an overreaction, yet that didn't seem to matter. It continued to hurt regardless. Eventually he gathers his will and manages to climb from his bed and go through the rest of the day's routine. He's not quite sure how. 

Things go the way they do, and then suddenly Charlie, his mate Charlie, is on the Naughty List and he has no clue what to do except try to force Scott to help him, and then Curtis opens his mouth. He's quite sure a toy Santa is so far from the answer it's laughable, but neither of them listen to him and so he has to give a speech about Santa's "new looks" and he's never been more humiliated. It's insane. Things turn as sour as, well, something sour, quick. and then somehow get worse. Toy Santa gets bad idea after bad idea and then the next thing he knows he's under "house arrest" for telling the others that Toy Santa was, indeed, a Toy. House arrest, not that that does much when they didn't take his magic and are letting people other than him in and out freely.

Saying Charlie Calvin loves Christmas is an understatement. It's part of who he is, it's in his blood. And now his mother and Neil have torn that from him. He'd begged, done everything he could think of, yet they just kept giving him more and more reasons he couldn't go back to the North Pole. Not that they were reasons that made any sense. They were reasons like "boys shouldn't be so isolated" and "we worry if we aren't there to keep an eye on you". In other words, they're essentially telling him that they don't trust him. He's young, not dumb. But no matter what he does they won't change their minds. They let his father come to see him when he's able to- but that's only from the new year to Easter, so practically never. And if his father tries to change his mother's mind, well, Charlie isn't supposed to know, but he still knows she pulls the custody card when that happens. 

He finds himself missing the elves at the oddest of times. His "friends" (never capable of replacing Judy or Quinn or Bernard or the others, never) hold a bonfire at the beach at the end of summer before they go into seventh grade. He spends more time of it than not staring into the fire and wishing he was sitting in Judy's kitchen with the others, hot cocoa in hand and curled under a blanket Judy's girlfriend in Wrapping had made specifically for him. By the end of the night all he wants is the snow globe his mother tells him he's lucky she didn't break. He guesses she's right, but still thinks it was wrong of her to take it from him. And to keep him from his home, but there's not exactly anything he can do about it. 

He keeps trying to change their minds over the years, but it never works, and his melancholy only grows. By the time he starts high school Neil has finally decided he should see a therapist, but, well, of course only one he's personally friends with. And so it does nothing to help him. (Surprise, surprise.) He gets put into art for his elective, and it sounds stupid and emo and he knows, but it's the one thing in a long time that helps him. More often than not the things he make end up being representations of the North Pole. His first semester project is an oil painting of the scene from his father's balcony that first night. His art teacher speaks to his mother, and before he knows it all his mother does when she mentions him is brag about his "talents". He's sure they're good, knows it. But it's smothering and does nothing to change the fact that all he wants to do is escape. Maybe it's not a surprise, then, when he starts making "bad" choices. It starts with weed, because it's easy to get and makes him so relaxed and actually fairly happy. Well, subjectively. Roan says he's still mopey. 

His father shows up at the house over a long weekend before Easter, bringing with him, of all things, a hat and a blanket. But then, they're both elf-made. The blanket from Judy and Genevieve, the hat from Bernard, looking just like the cap he would occasionally steal from him and wear around the workshop. The thought hits him like a train that he misses the Head Elf. Badly. He pulls the cap on immediately, beaming at his father and pretending not to notice the heartbreak in his eyes. He wears both things around the house for the rest of the day. When he pulls the cap on and leaves his ears out, it almost looks like they just might be pointed, and he so badly wishes they were. Feelings like that are... well, not easy, but easier, at least, to ignore most of the time than right now. Right now they're all bowling him over and he doesn't know what to do.  As stupid as it is, once the weekend is over and his father is gone they fade just a little, easier to keep at bay. He tries to ignore that too. It still hurts, but he'll be able to bury it some if he doesn't think about it. 

His sophomore year of high school it all comes to a head. They get a new principal, one who forbids any Christmas decorations or celebrations from being in the school. And it's not just that, but a million other little things that immediately set off his instinct to fight. Mainly because he has no flight instinct, but the point still stands. So he makes his art projects just a little more Christmas-y, goes with his friends when they ask him if he wants to go tagging, and ignores the squirming in his gut that everyone at the Pole would be disappointed in him. It doesn't help either that Roan keeps giving him the "disappointed senior" look. And getting, well, that look from the only friend who's never even tried to judge him does hurt. But he doesn't try to fight the problem with authority he knows he has, and fights with it instead. Then Danielle tries to flirt with him right before he goes in to tag the gym wall and he doesn't know how to react and fakes falling instead, even though he'd absolutely did it on purpose. Looking at the reasons he wants nothing to do with romantic attachments is way more complicated then he wants to deal with any time soon. After that things get a little blurry. Principal Newman finds him there, the next day at the beginning of school he's called into her office and his mother and Neil and his dad are there and he wants to scream. And then of course the idiot principal suggests his father needs to be more present, and no, that's no it at all, are they all blind? 

Roan, of course, is quick to give him a lecture when he shows up late to third period art with a scowl on his face. It doesn't take long to get the story out of him, and after that Roan is ripping into him about just how dangerous his "little stunt" was and why couldn't he be more careful with his rebellion. Then his day goes from bad to worse when he gets home. And then his mother gets a "bright idea" and puts the snow globe on his headboard before his father gets back from his "date night".  His father, of course, has to bring up the history he knows of Charlie getting it. Not that it matters much to him anymore, after it's been forcefully from him for so long. He can't tell his father about that, of course, but it still rankles. Still burns because all he wants is still to go back to where he belongs and curl up with his friends, his real friends, and forget about the last three years as if though they were nothing more than a particularly bad dream.

Things go fast and awful after that on both sides. 

Chapter Text

When Curtis bursts through his front door, Bernard can't say he's surprised. Judy had told him what was going on when she brought him some dinner, given he didn't keep much actual food in the house during the busy season for fear of it going bad. So he only looks up at him from his seat and waits for the number two elf to speak. It takes what seems like hours, but eventually the boy catches his breath and starts talking.

"The Toy Santa- we need to go get the real one- what do I do?" He turned beseeching eyes on the Arch Elf, looking stricken and unsure. That did make sense, though. After all, he had finally been given a chance to prove himself and it had backfired spectacularly. Bernard sighs, just a little, and then he's up and pacing. The most important thing, of course is a way to get them there and back- and he will be going. It's not as if he can just sit around doing nothing, and of course Curtis will be going too. He doesn't think he'd be able to bring himself to leave him here. So he paces, and paces more. Finally he stops suddenly, an idea forming.

"Jetpacks. If we can get two we can get there. They'll burn up on re-entry, but I'll be able to teleport us all back. I've got enough magic left over from trying to convince all the elves for that, at least." He laid it out, brain moving quickly. Curtis nodded, slowly.

"How are you going to get out of here, though?" He questioned, brow furrowing. At the question Bernard gestured to him to stay put, running up the stairs to his room. Digging through the trunk at the foot of his bed he found the thing he needed. Glamoured cloaks wouldn't be most people's first choice, but he's been around longer than almost everyone else on the pole, so that's not a surprise. He moves back down the stairs quickly, almost surprised to see Curtis in the spot he left him in.

"A...cloak is your solution? I don't think even they will fall for that." The Keeper of the Handbook only seems more confused now, but that's okay. He was young- he would learn. He had time to do that.

"This cloak is charmed to keep the watchers eyes away. I won't be seen if I wear it, and it won't use any more of my magic." He explained, not putting it on quite yet. The number two elf nodded, swallowing, and Bernard felt just a little bit guilty for the nervous look in his eyes. He tried so hard to keep things running smoothly and as stress free as he could for the younger elves. Finally he steeled himself, nodding decisively.

"You go first. Hold the door open and call into the house saying goodbye, goodnight, something like that, so I can get past you. Then we can get to where we need to, the warehouses." He lays out the idea, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt between two fingers. He isn't worried for himself- but if something goes wrong here Curtis could be seriously hurt, and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. It's his job to protect him, he'd feel absolutely awful if he failed. He shakes his head to dislodge the worrying thoughts, pulling the cloak on. It's old, but it will work. Curtis's eyes widen.

"That's so weird!" His second in command whispers as he pulls the hood up. He smirks, just a little, whispering back for him to start going. It's always instant gratification to show old things like this to younger elves who've never seen them. They're always ridiculously easy to please.

The soldiers might be toys, but that doesn't make the heart-stopping fear he feels sneaking past them go away. Too many memories of doing the exact same thing, the only difference then that the soldiers were alive. He shudders, huddling under the cloak and heaving deep breaths. He's worked hard to get here, to not think about those things, he can't let himself succumb now. Curtis appears around the side of the warehouse, probably following his footsteps in the mostly untouched snow around them. He pulls the hood down, shaking his head again. The younger elf looks worried, almost terrified, and he feels guilt coil in his chest again. He should have done more -but he'd wanted to give him his chance to shine, even as he denounced the idea. Pausing, he reaches out his arms, the signal for a hug he rarely gives. And to his surprise the other takes it, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He squeezes back, trying to put as much care as he can into it. The short, savored moment is over far too quickly, the other pulling away and turning to stare at the door into the warehouse. Bernard swallows, moving forward and turning the handle slowly. There aren't guards or even cameras in the warehouses, they aren't needed, but this is still dangerous if Toy Santa is on high enough alert. 

They get to the jetpacks easily enough, both already knowing where they are. Knowing the storage of everything is mandatory for both of them, after all. He hands one to Curtis, grabbing his own. It's been centuries since he's flown one of these, and he just hopes muscle memory will be enough to get him there. They move back out quickly and slowly, sneaking out to the edge of the town. Once they get there he finally speaks, but only to give the other a few curt instructions. He's nervous, anxious like he's been all day. He hasn't done this sort of a thing in so long...

All in all, it doesn't take them as long as he would think to get to the house where Scott is staying- his ex-wives, of all places. He leads Curtis down gently, knowing full well from experience that the other will crash if he doesn't. They put the almost completely destroyed jetpacks on the porch before he knocks on the door, stepping back next to Curtis after. Quickly enough, a red headed little girl opens the door, peering up at them both. 

"Who are you?" She asks without preamble, and he'd be surprised by her straightforwardness but the magic that would have stopped that is gone, his reserves to low to keep it up in a terrifying twist of events. So he swallows and speaks instead before Curtis can open his mouth and insert his foot.

"Is Scott Calvin here?" He asks, trying to make his voice soft but not sure how much he's really succeeding. The girl looks at both of them with wide eyes, and he knows for sure he didn't succeed now. He's good with the elves, has to be, it's his job, but dealing with human children has always eluded him. He waits, trying to be patient, as the girl calls out and moves away from the door. He moves inside, pulling Curtis with him and closing the door. Scott comes down the hallway with the little girl on his hip, surprise in his eyes when he sees them. But before he can say anything Bernard looks pointedly to the girl. Small child or not, they simply can not discuss this in front of her. And so Scott puts her on the ground and tells her to go off and play. She turns and looks at him before leaving. 

"Soon I'll be seven, and then I'll be allowed to know things." She tells them, then walking away. He can feel his brow furrow a little. Children are odd, he'll never be used to them, human ones particularly. But he shakes his head, just a little, and then Scott is asking them what's going on. He lets Curtis explain instead of speaking, staring at his nails, bitten to the quick from his anxiety over everything recently. Usually he takes care of them. vanity from a life long gone driving him to it, and so it seems so weird to seem them ragged and short. 

"How will we be getting there, though?" Santa asks, looking between them cautiously. That's fair, he thinks to himself before answering.

"I'll be teleporting us there." He says, nodding slightly. It's tempting to try to find his mate, he can feel his presence and that's one thing he didn't think about, how tantalizing it would be after so long. But that isn't an option, can't be one. 

"But- what about the Mrs. Clause?" Scott asks, scratching at his beard. He'd explained the situation with Carol quickly, and as far as he could tell there were no other options.

"I- I don't know." He manages to answer with a swallow, sharing a look with Curtis. He'd been trying to avoid thinking about it if he's perfectly honest. He doesn't want to, can't, go through the havoc of another new Santa. But at this point, what other option do they have any chance of? He hears footsteps moving down the stairs and turns to look up at them, body stilling in shock when he lays eyes on Charlie. He bites his lip, forcing himself to look away as his mate reaches the bottom of the stairs. Elven soulmate magic was a powerful thing, and he could feel his magic replenishing just from being in the same room as him. 

"Dad? Is something wrong at the Pole?" And with that an idea flashes through Bernard's mind, tendrils of thought taking root easily. If it works, they'll be able to save Christmas and also fulfill the Mrs. Clause. 

"Santa, I have an idea." He says, trying to sound calm and prepared but not quite sure if it worked. He can feel Charlie's eyes on him, and the urge to run to him is strong, but willpower is something he has in spades, thankfully. 

"Well, what is it?" Santa asks instead of answering his son's question, even as he moves closer to the three of them. And even Curtis is looking at him with confusion, not even remotely on the same page as him. He swallows before answering. 

"Well, after I bring you and Curtis back to the North Pole, and then, I could come back and I, well, Charlie and I, we could go find Carol, try to convince her to come back with us and marry you. It might not work... but we should at least try, I think." He explains, looking between the others and swallowing again. Scott nods, looking like he's thinking it over. Charlie is watching him, head tilted just so, and it hurts a little to be so utterly close and yet truly so far apart. But he keeps his mouth shut and says nothing, just watching in return instead. He kind of wants to scream, but that isn't an option, so he stays still and waits, wiggling his toes in his shoes to do something. Eventually Santa nods decisively. 

"That could work. Worth trying. But to do that we need to leave right now." And he turns to his son and wraps him in a hug. Curtis wraps his arms around himself, probably dreading going back and trying to lead such a rebellion. And Bernard can't stop the guilt coiling in him, when he's spent so long protecting the other elves from anything that could hurt them like this. But it still ended them up here, and he wishes desperately it wouldn't have. He knows, logically, this is one small, relatively minor thing, but that doesn't make him feel any better. 

He tugs on his magic and brings them back to the Pole, spinning on his heel and reappearing in the living room in the same breath. When he turns to look at Charlie, his mate is staring at him with wide eyes. He tries to avoid the look in those bright eyes, but it's still so hard. Everything he has and is calls to the other, but this is a laughably wrong time to do anything about it. 

"Are you ready to leave?" He asks instead of dwelling on it anymore, looking over the room and out the front window. He looks back just in time to see the other nod.

"Okay. We'll need to walk there- I haven't the magic to teleport us to her and then us all to the Pole." He explains briefly, pulling at the edge of his shirt. Charlie nods again, eyes still locked on him. It's scary, almost, the feelings he sees in those eyes, but lingering on that isn't a thing he's got time for right now. They move out the door and down the sidewalk together, walking in step and it almost physically hurts them both, yet neither knows how the other feels. 

It takes them a short time to reach the Principal's house, and when they get there the woman is standing outside, wiping snow off her car. Charlie goes up to her, speaks low and quiet, and when he points to Bernard he moves forward, nodding and not speaking. Her face lights up, and he's almost surprised, but it barely takes any time to convince her, and when they teleport they land in the midst of what must be the takeover. Instinctively he explodes forward, pushing both of them to the ground and covering them with himself, muscle memory kicking in in an instant. He tries to ignore things like that, but at least they'll come in use this once. Charlie blinks up at him, eyes wide and innocent, and Carol looks indignant, but he only rolls back up and pulls them after him out of the fray. This isn't as dangerous as other, far too similar, things he's experienced, but his adrenaline kicks in immediately anyway, and he barrels into one of the toy santas, knocking it over and not stopping. Once they reach a sheltered alcove, he shoves them behind him and watches the mess, eyes scanning for incoming danger. Nothing comes, and eventually he can clearly see the elves and Santa are winning. He relaxes, just a fragment, but keeps watching, even as Charlie leans into him suddenly. He wants to jump, tense and pull away, but also to melt entirely, turn and wrap himself around his mate for the rest of his life. Yet he does neither, staying as still as he can instead. An explanation is what he really wants to demand, but that clearly isn't going to happen any time soon.

Eventually Santa comes over, and he ignores them both in favor of Carol, picking her up and swinging her around as they both start laughing. And it's touching to see, but at the same time every place he's in contact with his mate is burning and he doesn't know how to react. It's been so long he's been waiting for this, yet know that it's here, his brain is practically short circuiting. Eventually his mate peels away, stepping up to his father and reminding his father they needed to complete the marriage for Christmas to go on. From there things are almost blurry, quick and quicker, and he almost can't keep up. They call Mother Nature to officiate, and then Santa leaves, and he's left standing there with Charlie after everyone leaves the stable. 

"I..." He swallows, trying again. "I need to talk to you. Could we go to my office...or somewhere?" He asks, and it's kind of hard because he never does things like this, puts himself out on the edge like he is now, but he doesn't have a choice. He has to tell his mate, has to do it now, or else he doesn't know if he'll ever get the chance. Charlie nods, tilting his head a tiny bit and then speaking.

"Maybe outside?" He tries, staring at Bernard with wide eyes. He seems almost to know what's going on, but at the same time entirely clueless in an endearing way. The elf nods, stepping past him and motioning for him to follow. They leave the stable and wander the town, reaching a bench easily enough, both sitting down on it, as if though they'd decided to out loud. He turns to the human, to Santa's son of all people, and tries to figure out how to start. This is big news, something life changing to say out loud, and it's almost terrifying to finally do this. 

"So...what did you need to talk to me about?" Charlie asks, watching him intently. And he swallows, trying to find the words to start.

"Well, I... Elves have soulmates, you see, usually just called mates." He pauses, looking up before continuing.

"They are the most important person in our lives. We are tied to them until we die. And if for some reason one or the other rejects the bond, the other... The other suffers. Our mates are our one and only." He looked at his mate again, gathering all of his courage to say the next words.

"And...you are my mate. My soulmate." Too terrified to look up, he stares at his hands in his lap. Charlie doesn't answer, and he wants to hide away when suddenly the other grabs his hands, holding them in his own. He glances up, and those eyes are looked onto him again. He swallows as a gentle thumb runs over the back of his hands.

"Okay." Is the only answer he gets, and then a soft and gentle whisper: "Can I kiss you?" He nods, voice caught in his throat and making him silent. And one hand moves up to his chin, cupping it lightly. His mate shifts,  so the angle is better, and then presses soft lips to his. Almost in the same breath he pulls back again, but in a surprising move shifts to sit in Bernard's lap. He buries his face in his shoulder before speaking again, voice muffled.

"That certainly does... explain some things." Of course that draws his curiosity, but mainly he's far to focused on memorizing the feel of Charlie this close to him to do more than hum in response.

"I always was so drawn to you... It explains why I was never interested in romantic relationship no matter who it was, too." He elaborates, sitting back and starting at him intently. Then he leans forward again, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. It's a cute gesture, and Bernard wraps his arms around him in response, studying every line of his face. Eventually he nudges his mate lightly, speaking softly.

"Do you want to...go somewhere else? I mean- we don't have to do anything, just it might be a little more comfortable? And warm?" He asks as Charlie opens his eyes, sitting back and watching him. There's a blush rising on his cheeks, he can feel the warmth of it, and it only makes him more embarrassed. He hadn't meant for what he said to come out like that but correcting it didn't exactly seem to have helped. The other smiles at him, soft and lopsided. He feels himself smiling back without even meaning to, the grin pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He answered. It was quiet for a moment before he mumbled something else.

 "You're cute when you blush." he added, looking away as if though suddenly struck by shyness. Like a trigger, he could feel the blush rising on his cheeks again, and ducked his head, staring at the ground next to the bench. All of a sudden Charlie jumped up, pulling him with him by the hand. 

"Lets go then, I'm starting to get cold." The teenager admitted, and he noticed for the first time how pale the other's cheeks had gotten while they sat there. Right. Human. He'd do well to remember that. Pausing for a second, he then reached out, taking his hand and starting walk. It didn't take long for them to be walking in step, and after some deliberation he led them in the direction of his house. It would be cosier than the bare bones bedroom behind his office for during the busy season. 

It didn't take them particularly long to get there, since the town was quiet, everyone asleep or at work after the excitement of the day. Once they reach his house he lets go of Charlie's hand briefly to open the door, and feels bereft immediately of his mates presence even as they stand directly next to each other. He was expecting to feel like that at first, yet it still catches him of guard. He leads him into the house, closing the door behind them and moving through to the couch in the living room, which is piled high with blankets. To his surprise, the boy leaped onto the couch, burrowing himself in the blankets without pausing. He found himself laughing watching it, a soft smile on his lips. The sort of smile he almost never gives anyone. He pauses, and instead of joining him on the couch, he moves through to the kitchen calling after him about hot cocoa. He makes it quickly, less of a recipe and more muscle memory from centuries of making it the same way. As he waits for it to warm he peeks into the kitchen, smiling at the sight on the couch. When the drinks are done he carries them out with him, handing off one and cupping the other in both hands as he sits down. 

"I forgot how soft elf-made blankets were." Bernard turns to stare at him at the statement, shocked as the other leans into him, sitting up just slightly. 

"Didn't you have one? The one Judy and Genevieve sent you when you turned...fourteen?" The last word is a question, but he thinks that's the right age. At the look he gets at the question he's almost certain he said the wrong thing. But...what was wrong with it?

"I should have. But...my mom...." He turned, suddenly, meeting his eyes with a look that was almost steel. "My mother is a good woman. Kind and accepting about things she has no need to be, things others wouldn't be so good about. She just... has a hard time accepting the pull I feel towards the North Pole." And his voice is certain, but only makes him more curious. What happened, what did his mother do? The teenager sighs, and then looks at him with eyes more torn, more hurt than he ever wants to see.

"She took those things. The blanket from them, the hat from you...the snow globe. Anything I had that was elf-made or touched she took from me. As far as I'm aware, all she did was hide everything..." He trails off, staring into his mug of cocoa. And he swallows, places his cocoa on the side table, then wraps an arm around his mate and pulls him close. He can tell, without speaking, that this isn't the time to say anything about it, only comfort. So he does, swallowing down the urge to curse Laura Miller and trying to be just a solidly comforting presence instead.

Chapter Text

Charlie wakes up to someone shaking his shoulders, and his eyes blink open, even as his hands fly to the ones on his shoulders. Once he can see straight he can clearly see Bernard standing above him, watching him. He makes a small noise, throat raspy. The elf smiles, handing him a glass of water and sitting down next to him, thighs touching. Once he's drained half the glass he speaks:

"So, why'd you wake me up?" He asks, curling his legs up under him and leaning into the warm body next to him. Said warm body doesn't answer for a few seconds, draining his own cup, probably of cocoa rather than water. 

"Your father returned a few hours ago. You'll need to go home soon, when he wakes up."  He explains, wrapping an arm around him with a small smile. 

"Oh. Do I have to?" He asks, fully aware he's pouting but still to out of it to care. There was a chuckle from his- soulmate, apparently. He still thought that had explained more things than it had caused questions. 

"Yes, you do. And...we should tell him about the soulmate thing, too. I don't want to, but it would be for the best. The sooner he knows about it the more trouble we get to avoid." It's a little more elaborate an answer than was strictly required, but he appreciates it none the less. It's nice when someone important to him is straightforward with him.

"How?" Is the only thing he responds with, looking up at him with the same question in his eyes. And the elf doesn't answer, just looks back at him instead. 

"I don't know." He answers on a sigh, leaning into him more. So they sit there in the silence of neither knowing how to start what would surely prove to be yet another life altering conversation, the last of several in the past twenty-four hours. He looks up, just the bit he has to in this position, before speaking, breaking the silence.

"Can I kiss you- again?" He asks. He doesn't know why he asks except it seems like he should, like something could go terribly wrong if he doesn't. And Bernard doesn't question it, just breathes out a gentle 'yes' and he leans forward and holds the side of his head and presses their lips together for the second time. Huh. Only the second time, feels like more. When he goes to pull away, his lips are chased, and their noses bump and slot together for a second more before he presses his hands against his mate's chest and really does pull away this time. Does he want to? Not really, but they will need to leave and go up to the workshop soon. They can't do that if they're distracted. He smiles in the face of the pout he receives, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips and shifting away before he can be trapped again.

"We really should leave..." He lets his voice trail off, staring at the hallway leading towards the front door. Should or not, he's warm and cozy and feels like someone wants him to stay for once in his entire life and getting up would be like breaking the spell of it. 

"I'll go put the cups in the sink." Bernard says into the quiet, and when he stands up Charlie is surprised to here what sounds very much like a whimper leave his mouth. And the elf gives him a sad look, eyes darkening the slightest, but he moves out of the room anyway. He watches as he leaves, but then turns to stare at the blanket he's wrapped in, picking at the edges of it. So, that's a question raised. Why, now, does he feel so distraught at being separated, even temporarily, from him? It makes no sense from what he can tell. But he tries to draw his mind away from it as his mate comes back into the room, holding, of all things, a sweater. He furrows his brows, giving him a confused look.

"I...to keep you warm?" Okay. That explains it, a bit, and he still thinks the shyness with which he tries to explain is cute. And it's colder outside than the jeans and long sleeve t-shirt he's wearing are made for, while an elf-made sweater is designed for these temperatures. He smiles, just a little bit and stands to pull the sweater into his own hands. 

"Thank you." He mumbles, pulling it on immediately. It smells just like the other, and he grins at him, heart beating just a little bit faster. 

"It looks good on you." Bernard says in a barely-there whisper, stepping forward and cupping his cheek in one hand.

"A kiss?" He asked instead of doing anything else, moving closer and cupping his other cheek too, pressing their lips together. This one is short, just like the others, but it rises a blush on his cheeks and he smiles when they pull apart.  He lets him pull him to the door, and they move out it together. To his somewhat surprise, they end up holding hands as they move in the direction of the workshop, shoulders brushing with every step they take. 

It doesn't take very long to reach the workshop, even less to reach his father's office. When they get there he's standing by his desk talking to - what exactly was he supposed to call her now? Oh well, he'd figure that out later. When his father noticed him he moved forward, giving him a hug, and he let himself be pulled away from Bernard despite the fact he didn't want to move even a step away from him. 

"How've you been? I know I'll need to get you home soon, or your mom will freak out." He says, leaning against the desk again and smiling at him. 

"...Not good." He glanced back at Bernard before continuing. "But better for the few hours I've been here." He admitted, nervousness rushing over him out of nowhere. 

"There's...actually something I- we- need to tell you." Best to get it over with, right? Probably. 

"Yeah? Well, what is it?" His dad asked, sharing a look with his new wife before looking back at him. Bernard had stepped up next to him now, shoulder brushing his. He swallows before speaking.

"How much do you know about elves and soulmates?" He asks, instead of launching straight into the explanation.

"Most of it. Made for each other, two halves of the same soul, one-and-only, yada yada yada." His father answers, holding up a finger at the questioning look his new wife gives him.

"Well..." And here's where it gets tricky and he should probably be careful but instead he's as blunt as can be: "You see, I'm an elf's mate. Bernard's, to be exact." After saying that he wants to look away, but can't bring himself to. This will make or destroy the next few years. His dad doesn't say anything for a few moments, probably taking it in.

"Well, that's unexpected..." He mutters, rubbing at his beard, and Charlie doesn't think his heart has ever beat faster, he's so nervous.

"Is it a problem, though?" He asks, mouth moving before his brain can keep up. Cringing at himself for saying that, he turns himself just enough to hide his face in Bernard's shoulder. Bernard, who wraps an arm around his waist in return and sighs through his nose, eyes probably still locked on Santa. And the jolly man is watching them with a look he can't describe when he turns his head out of his mate's shoulder.

"I don't think so, no." Is the answer they finally get. He can feel the tension bleed out of both of them at the words. Relief, whatever little bit of it they can get.

"We need to leave now, though." His father adds, and there's the tension again. The idea of going back to his mother's fills him with dread he can't shake.

"Okay." He manages to answer. A few more, mostly silent moments, pass as the four stand there. Eventually Bernard cleared his throat, tapping his wrist lightly.

"Shall we make our way down to the stable?" He asked.

"Right, right." His father answers. But none of the four move. Eventually he tugged on Bernard's arm, pulling him towards the door. 

"We'll meet you down there." He explained, pausing before ducking out of the door. They moved down the hallway, neither speaking. Once they reached the stables, he let himself be pulled up against the wall, only peeking around briefly to see if anyone else was watching. He didn't even see anyone else around, so he buried his face in the other's chest. 

"Well, that didn't go badly, I guess." He muttered, wrapping his arms loosely around the figure holding him. 

"That's true. Could have gone far worse than "that's unexpected"." Was the answer, drawing a giggle from him as he tilted his head up to press their lips together again, pulling back quickly and grinning at him. With a glint of dark eyes, he was pulled back up. 

"You didn't ask this time." He commented, watching him. 

"I didn't." He confirmed, smiling shyly and feeling a blush on his cheeks. In response he was kissed again, neither pulling away quickly this time. Several minutes passed that way until they heard a throat cleared a few feet away. He pulled away quickly, turning to see Judy standing there with an amused look on her face. He mumbled a greeting as Bernard leaned forward with a put-upon sigh and buried his face in his hair, making him giggle.

"I see you wasted no time telling him." She said, moving forward and tugging Charlie away to give him a hug. He hugged back fiercely, he'd missed her badly too. As she stepped away he moved closer to Bernard again, still with a wide smile. 

"No, I couldn't bear to." The elf answered, a soft smile of his own on his lips. The quiet silence they'd been enjoying ended as the three spoke more, the occasional loud laugh rising from the group. He'd been cut off from them for so long, finally getting to catch up on everything filled him with unspeakable joy.  So he leaned into his newly found-out mate and let himself absorb the feeling of finally being at the North Pole again, trying to keep the fact he was leaving soon pressed to the back of his mind. But eventually he heard his father's belly laugh, and couldn't resist pressing himself entirely against Bernard, dread coiling in his stomach. 

"You ready to go, Sport?" His dad asked once they rounded the corner, approaching the three. He swallowed, nodding shakily. The man smiled, just a little.

"I'll give you guys a few more minutes while I get Comet and Cupid around." He said, walking away. Surprisingly, Judy laid a hand on his arm.

"I'll see you next time you're here." She murmured, squeezing his arm and giving him a small smile before walking away quietly. He turned into the arms still wrapped around him, letting out a shuddering sigh. 

"I wish I didn't have to go there. I don't know when I'll get to be here again, when I'll get to even see you again. What even happens if we're separated? Does something happen? I-" He cut himself off from rambling, burying his face in Bernard's chest.

"Yes, something, indeed. If we are separated for overly long at this point our very souls could end up torn from the pull on them. But-" He paused, forcing him to look up into his eyes. "-If you are stopped from coming to me, I'll come to you. Teleporting in on the weekends won't take very much power, especially since being with you boosts my power. We will make this work, no matter what." He finished firmly, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. They both stayed there, eyes shut and just holding in the moment. Eventually Charlie pulled away, feeling much calmer and at ease. 

"Thank you." He mumbled, laying his head on the other's shoulder. 

To his surprise, he doesn't end up grounded when he returns, his mother too frazzled by his disappearance to punish him for it. He's thankful for that, if only that one thing since returning 'home'. Now it's several days after Christmas and his dad is sitting on the couch. That's weird. Mrs...Claus? He thinks? Is sitting next to his dad and staring at said parent lovingly and he'd say that's weirdest but what's even weirder is the promise his father had whispered to him when he first arrived that Bernard was on his way as soon as he wrapped something up. There's a twist in his stomach at the thought. He hasn't seen the Head Elf since Christmas Eve, and he misses him badly. He's not sure if he's imagining it or not, but since yesterday he's been feeling a coiling pain in his chest that he can only imagine is his soul being tugged on by the...bond? Whatever he's supposed to call it. He's jolted unceremoniously from his thoughts at the sound of something being knocked to the floor. Looking up, it seems his mother had knocked a vase full of flowers Lucy had picked out over. The woman looks distraught, but he's only slightly guilty to say he doesn't particularly care.

"He's a little boy, Scott! He should be surrounded by people, not -not elves!" She was practically yelling, a sort of disgust dripping from her when she said elves and making him want to jump up and leave but he'd promised to stay in the room when his father asked and so he can't. He tunes out of the conversation again, staring across the living room. His father is trying, he really is, but his mother's mind isn't easily swayed and he's sure none of what she learned happened Christmas Eve is helping any. Lucy comes jumping down the stairs, looking around the room with wide eyes. When her sight lands on him she practically flies to him, jumping into his lap and burying her face in his shoulder. And, right. He might not be the little boy his mother thinks he is, but Lucy genuinely is a child, and not one who's grown up used to anger or anything even close to it. His father looks over to him, and then says something he doesn't catch until the man repeats it.

"I asked what you thought of all of this?" His eyes are soft, taking in the way his son cradles his step-sister without prompting of any sort, and probably the way she'd gone straight to him too. He swallows, just a little, and shifts Lucy so he can look at everyone in the room without moving. 

"I." He pauses. He's never actually mentioned some of these things to his father. He thought he probably shouldn't, that it wouldn't end well at all. And he wasn't stupid- he knew what they'd done was abuse, mental and emotional, despite the honest and good intentions behind it. 

"I think I'm old enough to have some level of control over where I am when I don't have to be at school." He grinds out instead, knowing it sounds pretentious and like too much but hoping it distracts from the way he hesitated. Lucy is still hiding her face in his shoulder and he's going into protection mode but at the same time he's almost scared. His little sister isn't like this. She just isn't. But he shoves the thought away and tries to focus on the conversation again even as he rubs her back lightly, hoping to make her feel better somehow. His mother makes a noise that's sort of like a scoff and he feels himself flinch. 

"No, you really aren't." She says in response to him, and he bites his tongue instead of responding again. 

"He is. He isn't a child anymore, he's growing up." His father interjected, standing up to look his mother in the eyes. "I know you're taking him growing up hard, but you should let him make his own decisions." He continued, looking more worried at the look on his ex-wife's face. They continued talking, of course, but he zones out, looking down at Lucy again. It's quieter now, and in turn she seems calmer, but that hardly stops the worry twisting in his gut. Eventually she pulled away from his hold.

"Are they going to keep yelling? I don't like it when they do that." She whispered, twisting to look at their mother. 

"I don't know." He admitted. She gave him a look, getting up and running up the stairs. Frowning, he didn't understand what was going through her brain, but that was normal. Children were weird, his sister was hardly an exception. Right as his mother turns to say something to him the doorbell rings. And he jumps up before he can think it over and says he'll get it, moving towards the hallway. He opens the door, pleased to see Bernard behind it. Smiling, he steps back, letting him in and closing the door behind him. At being close to him the ever-present almost-pain was fading, taking tension from his shoulders he didn't even know had been there. To his surprise the elf moved forward, sweeping him into a hug. He hugged back, breathing in deeply. The scent is tied to the pole, and he finds himself smiling as they both pull back. Just as he sees his mother round the corner. He takes a hasty step back, turning the other around at the same time before she reaches them. 

"Who's this, Charlie?" She asks him, voice sharp and pointed like she could stab him with it, and he swallows before answering.

"This is Bernard." He manages to say with as smooth a voice as he can before gliding past her and tugging the elf with him. Said elf stumbles before falling into step behind him, a frown creasing his face. He looks back briefly, contemplating where to go before leading him into the living room and the love seat facing both couches. Next he pulls him onto the love seat, pointedly avoiding his mother's eyes as she comes back into the room. His father doesn't say anything, watching them but then looking away again as the conversation starts back again.  He tries to resist the urge to curl up against the form next to him, but it's hard, and he compromises with himself by tucking his legs up under him and letting his feet rest touching the other's thigh. His mother doesn't seem to notice despite staring, so he counted that as a win, however brief. Thankfully, his mate seems to realize the parameters of the situation, not trying to reach out for him again, even though he wishes he would, 

The conversation continued, Neil eventually joining in. He  isn't terribly surprised by that, but he is when Mrs. Newman (?) interjects into the conversation. Well, she's on his side, and he'll take what he can get. His attention is distracted from what's going on in front of him once more when Lucy comes back down the stairs, eyes wide. Well, their mother had started yelling again, it made sense, he guessed, that she'd show up again. Once more she ends up launching herself at him, and he lets her cuddle into his side, wishing he could end the conversation immediately, if only for her sake. She's easily scared enough, and shuts down so quickly when faced with an argument, especially if it escalates. 

His mother starts shouting again, eventually, and he and Lucy both flinch. Bernard turns to look at him with worry, concern in his eyes. Then, his father does the same thing, but speaks up instead, eyes softening when he looks at them. 

"Charlie, why don't you and Bernard take Lucy upstairs, away from all of this?" He asks, raising a hand to cut off their mother when she tries to derail that plan, still watching them. Charlie nods quickly, mumbling a quick "Come on, then" to Bernard and deciding on just carrying Lucy, who shows no indication of letting get any time soon. But when they get to the top of the stairs she squirms down, running to her room and closing the door. He sighs, but continues to his own room, closing the door behind Bernard. 

"Why are they arguing about it? Why not just let you be at the pole?" He asks, both of the sitting down on Charlie's bed, hesitantly reaching out to each other. 

"Because... I don't know, really. My mom... I don't know." He answers, courage coming back, just a little bit, and tucking himself up against his mate.