Mommy and Santa
Illyrianwitchling’s Holidrabble
Day 3: Anon request
prompt: Nessian + “I can’t believe you did that to Santa...”
Masterlist
"Shh, okay? You have to be quiet, Stel. Or mama will hear."
"I am quiet," the small girl hissed, glaring at her brother, returning her attention to the floor below, wrapping her little hands around the slats and peering between the rails of the staircase. Slightly thankful for the shimmery garland coiled around the banister hiding her face. It wasn't like their mother was looking up at them anyway.
Their mom sat on the couch, curled into the corner, resting against the arm. Back turned from the tree. Hair pulled back into a bun and nose stuck in a book. One of those books their parents told them was unique, and for adults only. Stella and Sam didn't see anything special about them. Those books she loved were heavy and held only words. No pictures at all. And to the curious children on the stairs, where was the fun in that?
Brother and sister huddled together on the steps in matching pajamas, red and green plaid pants, a long red sleeves shirt that read Santa's helper in white across the front. Sam kept one arm on a railing and another around his younger sister. Taking the role as her big brother seriously as he steadied her wobbly stance. Both of them squished their faces against the wooden beams focusing intently below. Eyes were frantically searching between mom and the Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments and white lights.
"I wish we had the colored ones," Stella murmured, bottom lip in a pout. Her father would agree, she knew. But Sam, he always agreed with mom.
"No, Stella. Mommy is right. These lights look like snow and stars at the same time. It's cool." he replied, keeping his eyes focused below.
"I guess….," though her little voice was anything but understanding as she yawned out, rubbing her eyes, "I hope he shows soon."
They continued sitting, watching their mother curled in a blanket. Eyes were never leaving the book, even when she took a sip of her mommy juice, as she called it. Nesta was so entranced she didn't realize the figure creeping up from behind her. The children above, hiding behind silvered garland saw.
"Santa!" they both gasped at the figure in a Santa hat clad in his velvet red suit and pants, white lining the coat and the cuffs of his sleeves and pants. He was holding a sack over his shoulder.
The kids watched as close as they dared while Santa rounded the corner jumping in front of their mother. Who screamed in surprise, hitting him in the shoulder with her heavy book. Sam and Stella gasped again. Except for this time, it wasn't out of awe and excitement. But shock. That she gripped the book tight, slamming into his shoulder.
Sam and Stella turned to one another, mouths agape, "Mommy hit Santa!"
Stella asked, "Is she gonna get coal?"
"I don't know," Sam commented with a stern expression watching the scene unfold, looking eerily similar to their father when they were in trouble.
"That hurt Nes," Santa chuckled, rubbing his arm in the process.
Sam scrunched his face, "Santa sounds like daddy."
"What is wrong with you! The kids are asleep. Are you insane?" Mommy asked, folding her arms.
"What? You don't like it?" Santa said, stepping closer to her, pulling her in an embrace, holding her the way their father did. She laid her arms on the suit, giving him the same look she usually gave daddy when did his puppy eyes.
"It weirdly suits you." rolling her eyes as she replied to him," Happy?"
"Not yet. One more thing." Santa leaned in, a gloved hand tilting her face up, claiming her mouth. Picking her up by the hips as she wrapped her legs around him, falling into the couch.
"AH! Gross! Stella, go!" Sam shouted as low as he could.
Together they ran up the stairs keeping low to the ground until reaching the second floor, quickly heading towards their respective rooms. Stella's door hand-painted in stars and Sam's in superheroes by Aunt Feyre. The children's faces paled, hearing strange noises from down below.
"Does mommy love Santa?" Stella asked with the innocence of a four-year-old, "I thought she loves daddy."
"Maybe she loves both." Sam suggested, "Daddy says you kiss people you love. That's why he kisses mommy and us so much, right?" Stella nodded. "So maybe she does. It's still gross. Santa's...old."
"How old?"
"Really old Stel. Let's go to bed. Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?"
Again she nodded, they walked into Stella's room. Climbing into her bed, slipping under the covers together. Stella had a thing about the dark and night terrors. True nightlights helped, having someone near put her at a comforting ease faster than any light. Sam never returned to his bed, falling into a deep sleep shortly after his sister.
Cassian awoke first, jumping out of bed and realizing after their lustful rendezvous on the couch that he left his costume strewn about. Grabbing a pair of red and green plaid pajamas, slipping into each pant leg as he snatched a red long-sleeved shirt with him. He was throwing it over his chest, darting out the door. Taking two steps at a time, praying the kids didn't see discarded garments of Santa Claus scattered across the floor. Stella and Sam both harbored wild imaginations. It was too early for any talk of why Santa and why he left his close behind.
Reaching the last step, it seemed his prayers were answered. No kids were to be found in the living room. Sure enough, the costume was. Crushed velvet pants and coat laid in a heap on the floor along with the gloves and belt. Walking over hastily picking up his clothes, and Nesta's noticing they were still on the sofa as well. It couldn't have been more perfect of timing. As Cassian tossed the clothes into the laundry room, being sure to shut the door and preparing coffee for Nesta. There they were at the bottom of the stairs. They were standing in all their rest-filled, childlike glory. Something was off. Sam wasn't jumping up and down, screaming about Christmas and Santa came as per the usual. Stella kept her eyes, so much like her mothers, trained on the floor.
Eyeing them wearily, Cassian stepped closer, kneeling before them, getting down to eye level.
"Hey, buddy. Stella sweetheart. What's wrong?"
It was Sam who spoke up, "Is mama gonna get coal for hitting Santa?"
Stella chimed in, "and for kissing him?"
Cassian blanched at first, opening and closing his mouth several times. For as sad and concerned as they looked. They didn't appear to be traumatized, which meant wherever they snooped from last night. His kids were smart enough to leave before clothes were pulled off and heated breaths entwined. He'd be lying if a part of him wanted to burst out laughing. He held it in, opting to run with this instead.
"Mommy did what?" he questioned the kids incredulously
Sam and Stella looked at one another, unsure if they should continue. This time, Stella, forever a daddy's girl, spoke up, "Santa came last night."
"I know, baby girl. Exciting, huh?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded, "But Santa was by mommy him, and she hit him with a book." her frown deepened, bottom lips pushing out, "Then she kissed him."
"Oh, no. That's not good at all. Mommy was bad. Maybe she needs a spanking." The kids in agreement. His idea of spanking Nesta significantly differed from what the kids knew.
"And why do I need a spanking?" Nesta questioned, brow raised, tugging on the hem of her shirt. She was standing above them in pajamas matching Cassian.
Cassian only shook his head, displaying how disappointed he was in her, "Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. I can't believe you did that to Santa. Hitting him? With your book?" Nesta's lips pulled into a thin line, eyeing her husband of eight years. Challenging him. "And you kissed him?" Dropping a hand over his heart, Cassian feigned surprise.
Nesta, the ever prideful woman, kept her head held high, descending the stairs, "Perhaps Santa shouldn't jump out and scare people, and maybe mommy wouldn't hit him."
"Is that why he kissed you, mama? Cause he was sorry. Daddy does that too," Sam spoke, watching his mother walk to Stella, kissing her on the head then Sam.
"Exactly. Santa felt bad. He said sorry and made it better. So no I will not be getting coal honey. Daddy might for being so loud," she teased, turning to meet her husband's grin that twisted to his mouth slightly agape. The kids giggling in the background, "Now that's settled, let's go open presents."
Cassian struck out an arm, pulling his wife flush to him, “If you’re giving me coal sweetheart, I’m drinking the coffee I made you.”
Her head snapped towards him in disbelief, “Don’t you dare. Or I will give you coal.” His only response was a light chuckle, before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.
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