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kat_lair***
Title: Gift
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Posten Norge 'When Harry Met Santa' Commercial
Pairing: Harry/Santa
Tags: Ficlet, Happy Ending, Older Characters
Rating: G
Word count: 701
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: In January, Nikolas is still there, and Harry doesn’t know what to do with that.
Author notes: Written forchantefable as a ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtrees gift. I adored the commercial (which you can view here if you haven't seen it) so was delighted to find it among the fandomtrees requests.
Gift on AO3
In January, it snows. It snows soft and quiet and beautiful. It snows with a howling wind, biting and almost horizontal. It snows in large, wet rags that soak through clothes. In January, Nikolas (“Julenissen is more of a title,” he’d said, the second Christmas. “A profession. A calling, sure, but still… a title.”) is still there, still sitting in Harry’s kitchen in the mornings for breakfast, still walking beside him in the evenings, their arms brushing, breaths escaping in single cloud of mist, still in Harry’s bed, their legs tangled under the covers. It’s the week after helligtrekongersdag and everyone is returning to routine after the holidays, shops and offices re-establishing normal opening hours, children going back to school (“Not out of choice!” Harry’s niece declares, though she doesn’t look too upset over prospect of seeing her friends again). Every morning, Harry expects to wake up alone, to find a note on his pillow. And yet…
It doesn’t happen. In January, Nikolas is still there, and Harry doesn’t know what to do with that. He knows how to wait and how to miss, to miss with an ache so deep it hurts. He knows how to let go, over and over again. He knows how to want and hope but not how to have, not how he could possibly dare to believe that…
In January, it snows and snows and snows, and Harry ties to ask if this is a gift he gets to keep but can’t find the words. Or maybe it’s courage he can’t find.
In January, a letter arrives, addressed to Nikolas. It’s a large envelope, name and address written in flowing cursive, and what feels like a thick stack of papers inside.
“Aha,” Nikolas says in tones of deep satisfaction when Harry hands it over. They’re still half-way through breakfast, cups and plates littering the kitchen table. “I’ve been expecting this.”
After wiping the butter knife clean, Nikolas uses it to slice open the envelope. His reading glasses (“I only need them for fine print,” he’d grumbled the first time he’d used them, and Harry had made a noise somewhere between appreciation and amusement) perched on his nose, he studies the contents intently.
“Yes, yes,” he mutters under his breath, “seems suitable. Yes.”
“What?” Harry is cleaning that table, but slowly. He should probably go to the office today for a bit, but there’s no hurry and even if there was, this is more important. Nikolas is always more important.
“Not what,” Nikolas says. “Who. The new julenissen. The postal service is all well and good, necessary really, but the world needs a little magic. Well, a lot, but there’s a limit to what even magic can do. The point is, they’ve found the next julenissen. Seems like a well-qualified fellow. Think I should hand over the reins?” He looks at Harry over the rim of his glasses, a careful look, gauging his reaction.
“The next…?!” Harry lets the empty bowl slip from his suddenly weak fingers and clatter back onto the table. He sits down heavily.
“It’s a title,” Nikolas reminds him, gently. “It’s a position, a duty, a privilege, a joy…” He smiles then, wide and brilliant, and it’s easy to see it’s this expression here that’s behind every single line on his face. “But it’s not a person,” he continues. “Not really, nor forever. Not after they find their own gift.” His hand, work calloused and familiar and so, so dear, reaches over the tabletop, finds Harry’s own and curls around it tentatively.
“Gift?” Harry asks, emotion welling up fast and immense, catching in his throat. “I’m the…?”
“Oh yes,” Nikolas says. His other hand comes up to cup Harry’s cheek, thumb wiping the wetness from under his eyes. “The best.”
In January, it snows. Outside the window, big white flakes float down, quiet and soft, catching the early rays of winter sun. Inside it, sitting around the kitchen table, coffee cooling in battered mugs, Nikolas signs his resignation and approval of his replacement with one hand and holds Harry’s with the other.
In January, it snows, and Harry finds himself looking forward to every day of the coming year, not just Christmas.
***
Title: Gift
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: Posten Norge 'When Harry Met Santa' Commercial
Pairing: Harry/Santa
Tags: Ficlet, Happy Ending, Older Characters
Rating: G
Word count: 701
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: In January, Nikolas is still there, and Harry doesn’t know what to do with that.
Author notes: Written for
chantefable as a fandomtrees gift. I adored the commercial (which you can view here if you haven't seen it) so was delighted to find it among the fandomtrees requests.Gift on AO3
In January, it snows. It snows soft and quiet and beautiful. It snows with a howling wind, biting and almost horizontal. It snows in large, wet rags that soak through clothes. In January, Nikolas (“Julenissen is more of a title,” he’d said, the second Christmas. “A profession. A calling, sure, but still… a title.”) is still there, still sitting in Harry’s kitchen in the mornings for breakfast, still walking beside him in the evenings, their arms brushing, breaths escaping in single cloud of mist, still in Harry’s bed, their legs tangled under the covers. It’s the week after helligtrekongersdag and everyone is returning to routine after the holidays, shops and offices re-establishing normal opening hours, children going back to school (“Not out of choice!” Harry’s niece declares, though she doesn’t look too upset over prospect of seeing her friends again). Every morning, Harry expects to wake up alone, to find a note on his pillow. And yet…
It doesn’t happen. In January, Nikolas is still there, and Harry doesn’t know what to do with that. He knows how to wait and how to miss, to miss with an ache so deep it hurts. He knows how to let go, over and over again. He knows how to want and hope but not how to have, not how he could possibly dare to believe that…
In January, it snows and snows and snows, and Harry ties to ask if this is a gift he gets to keep but can’t find the words. Or maybe it’s courage he can’t find.
In January, a letter arrives, addressed to Nikolas. It’s a large envelope, name and address written in flowing cursive, and what feels like a thick stack of papers inside.
“Aha,” Nikolas says in tones of deep satisfaction when Harry hands it over. They’re still half-way through breakfast, cups and plates littering the kitchen table. “I’ve been expecting this.”
After wiping the butter knife clean, Nikolas uses it to slice open the envelope. His reading glasses (“I only need them for fine print,” he’d grumbled the first time he’d used them, and Harry had made a noise somewhere between appreciation and amusement) perched on his nose, he studies the contents intently.
“Yes, yes,” he mutters under his breath, “seems suitable. Yes.”
“What?” Harry is cleaning that table, but slowly. He should probably go to the office today for a bit, but there’s no hurry and even if there was, this is more important. Nikolas is always more important.
“Not what,” Nikolas says. “Who. The new julenissen. The postal service is all well and good, necessary really, but the world needs a little magic. Well, a lot, but there’s a limit to what even magic can do. The point is, they’ve found the next julenissen. Seems like a well-qualified fellow. Think I should hand over the reins?” He looks at Harry over the rim of his glasses, a careful look, gauging his reaction.
“The next…?!” Harry lets the empty bowl slip from his suddenly weak fingers and clatter back onto the table. He sits down heavily.
“It’s a title,” Nikolas reminds him, gently. “It’s a position, a duty, a privilege, a joy…” He smiles then, wide and brilliant, and it’s easy to see it’s this expression here that’s behind every single line on his face. “But it’s not a person,” he continues. “Not really, nor forever. Not after they find their own gift.” His hand, work calloused and familiar and so, so dear, reaches over the tabletop, finds Harry’s own and curls around it tentatively.
“Gift?” Harry asks, emotion welling up fast and immense, catching in his throat. “I’m the…?”
“Oh yes,” Nikolas says. His other hand comes up to cup Harry’s cheek, thumb wiping the wetness from under his eyes. “The best.”
In January, it snows. Outside the window, big white flakes float down, quiet and soft, catching the early rays of winter sun. Inside it, sitting around the kitchen table, coffee cooling in battered mugs, Nikolas signs his resignation and approval of his replacement with one hand and holds Harry’s with the other.
In January, it snows, and Harry finds himself looking forward to every day of the coming year, not just Christmas.
***
no subject
on 2023-01-29 11:45 am (UTC)no subject
on 2023-01-29 05:03 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2023-01-29 12:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2023-01-29 05:04 pm (UTC)And thank you, glad you enjoyed the ficlet <3
no subject
on 2023-01-29 02:16 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2023-01-29 05:06 pm (UTC)Glad to have introduced you to the commercial too, their this year's ad was also lovely so would recommend checking it out. I'm pleased the ficlet provided a pleasant interlude, and yes, the recipient seemed happy so I'm happy!
no subject
on 2023-01-29 03:23 pm (UTC)I hadn't seen the advert and that was gorgeous too, and this fic is the most perfect addition.
no subject
on 2023-01-29 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2023-01-29 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2023-01-31 07:32 pm (UTC)