I Saw Santa Clause Fall Out a Window

"Mommy, when is Santa coming?" Emily asked.

"Tonight, honey, after everyone's asleep in bed. That's when he'll come stuff your stockings with presents for being such a good girl all year." Stella smiled brightly at her darling daughter and tugged at the bottom of her Christmas sweater.

"Has big brother been good all year?" She asked.

"I think so." Said Stella.

"I think so too." Emily declared happily, surprising her mother. "He shares his crayons with me and lets me have the last cookie."

"Oh, I am so proud of both of you." Stella beamed.

"When's daddy coming home?" Emily asked in a sadder tone.

"Oh, sweetheart, he'll be home before supper." Stella sighed, brushing a curl away from the little girl's face.

"He promised." Emily was used to her father having to stay late because of work. Her mother always said it was a lot less than before she and her brother were born, but it was still far too often for Emily.

"I know, and he'll be here. He always keeps his promises."

"Like when he promised he'd make it up to you when he missed your anniversary dinner last year?" Davie asked from in front of the tv.

"Yes, like that." She nodded.

"What did he do to make it up to you?" Asked Emily.

"He...bought me an ice cream cone." Stella said flatly, blabbing the first thing that came to mind that was appropriate.

"I'm home!" A familiar voice shouted from the doorway.

"Daddy!" Both kids ran to their father.

"Hey kids, you getting ready for tonight?" Mac asked his kids.

"Yep! Mommy let us put the angel on the top!" Emily chirped.

"That's great, pumpkin." Mac smiled brightly, kissing his daughter on the cheek.

"We're gonna make cookies for him after supper!"

After supper and the cookie making, Emily and Davie were sent to bed while the parents paced the living room.

"What are we going to do?" Asked Stella.

"I don't know, honey, I don't know." Mac answered his wife.

"If they come peek out and there's no Santa they'll be crushed." Stella murmured worriedly, her brows tilting. Her heart ached just thinking about her children's pain. She was a very protective person and mother and definitely wife; God forbid if you looked at HER Mac...hm. During her three 'loopy' months, she had a fit about not being able to protect her baby after it was born.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart, I'll think of something." Mac assured the fretting woman, putting his hands on her tiny shoulders, a move he'd become accustomed to. "I got it!"

"What?" The Greek woman asked.

"You're gonna love this." Mac kissed his wife's lips quickly and rushed out, leaving the door open for her to close gently.

"Sure."

"Sir, are you asking if we have a Santa costume for you to rent at ten at night in New York City on Christmas eve?" The clerk asked.

"Yes, yes I am." Mac replied blankly.

"Alright-y then, here y'are." He smiled. "That'll be fifteen bucks."

"Thank you, you're saving two children's christmas." Mac smiled.

"Okay, just have it back by tomorrow or it's a twenty dollar fine!"

"Mac...what are you doing?" Danny asked through his cell phone, hearing traffic. "Shouldn't you be home with Emmy, Davie and Stell?"

"Yeah, listen, I'm going to pose as Santa so the kids aren't disappointed, and I was wondering if you'd mind if I dropped by your place to pick up a potato sack for the bag." Said Mac.

"No prob, boss, it'll perfect, we can give you our presents for you guys. Come on by, Meggie's in bed and dropped off like a rock." Danny chuckled lovingly, thinking about his little girl.

"Great, I'll be over in ten minutes."

"Ho, ho, ho, it's Old Saint Mac." Danny smiled.

"Very funny Danny, it was hell taking the elevator up here." Mac frowned through the fake beard. "First it was just me, in the Santa suit. Then there was a drunk lawyer who wanted to show me his wife's ultrasound which was actually a mustard stain on a napkin, then there was an Irish policeman doing impressions of George Clooney, then there was a florist making a home delivery in December in a sun dress and trying to teach me Russian, then there was a bee farmer who was telling me about his successful brick making business that has bloomed beautifully in Japan, and the worst part was that I was the weird one."

"Sorry, I just never imagined you with a beard before...I like it." Mac raised an eyebrow. "You look like Dumbledore, or Papa Smurf."

"Hey Mac, merry Christmas." Lindsay smiled sweetly.

"Thank you, Lindsay, could I please use a potato sac?" Mac asked.

"Sure, Danny told me about the Santa plan." She laughed softly.

"I'm sure he did." Mac said flatly. "I just hope Flack and Angell are enjoying their Florida Christmas vacation."

"Aside from his bad sunburn and Angell being allergic to Mexican chili peppers, they're doin' fine." Danny shrugged.

"Right..." Mac blinked.

"Here you go, Mac. Good luck." Lindsay smiled.

"Thanks, since we don't have a chimney we convinced the kids he came in some other way. I think I might just have to go in the fire escape." Mac sighed, slinging the sac over his shoulder.

"Good luck." Lindsay and Danny waved.

"Thank you. I'll need it."

"Why, why oh why did I have to take the fire escape?" Mac griped to himself, grabbing the cold metal of the ladder. "Why? Why not the balcony door...no, scratch that, that's even higher up."

"Mommy? Where's daddy?" Davie asked, holding a sleepy Emily's hand as the two leaned on each other.

"Oh sweetie, come here to mommy." Stella held her arms open for her children. They climbed onto the fluffy duvet and into their mother's arms. "What are you two doing up?"

"We want to wait for Santa with you." Said Davie.

"Well you know Santa doesn't come unless you're asleep." Stella frowned. Mac wasn't back yet, and their king sized bed was cold and lonely without her husband there to hold her in his protective grip.

"We know, can we just stay here?" Asked Emily.

"Oh, of coarse you can, sweetie. Come and get cozy."

"Oh for the love of God!" Mac groaned, dangling from the ladder. When he'd finally managed to haul himself up his arms were on fire. He managed to get the window open, but he hit the lamp as well. Now, Stella was smart enough to leave said lamp on for her husband, but she had no idea he was going to tip it over like that.

"Mommy, what was that noise? Was it Santa?" Emily asked excitedly, rubbing the sleep from her large eyes.

"It might be." Stella replied. "I hope he's okay."

Mac stumbled into the living room and managed to avoid serious injury because the Christmas tree was still lit up, but he did have some trouble. He placed the presents under the tree carefully and got up a little too quickly. His beard got caught in the ornament covered branch, making him stumble and pull out the cord for the lights. "Oh f-ruit cake!" He swore loudly.

"Santa??!" Emily, Davie and Stella all asked themselves.

"Oh for the love of G-obstoppers!" Mac bit angrily, untangling himself from the tree. He managed to get his synthetic beard free but tripped over the coffee table, sending him flying into the bookshelf which toppled over and hit him over the head. "Ow! Mother-Theresa!"

"Mommy? Is santa breaking and entering?" Asked Davie.

"No sweetie, just the breaking." Stella sighed. "I'll go see him."

"Oh dear l-and before time!" Mac grumbled, putting everything back into place.

"Mac? Are you okay?" Stella asked, squinting as she flipped on the low-lights. "Sweetie?"

"Oh, Stella. Where are the kids?" Mac asked breathlessly.

"They're in our bed, waiting for Santa." Said Stella.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm late, dear, it's harder than it looks to climb those metal ladders." Mac smiled weakly.

"Oh Mac, I love you. You're a loving husband, a fantastic father, a jolly old mythical figure." She laughed.

"Well I do what I can." Mac chuckled, leaning in to kiss his wife.

"Santa's gonna kiss mommy!" Davie cried, pointing at his mother.

"What?!" Stella turned to see her kids in the door way.

"What?!" Mac lost his footing as Stella whipped around. He stumbled backward until he actually fell out of the window.

Bang!

Clang!

Ding!

Bam!

Stella cringed at every awful sound she heard from outside, already imagining the pain her beloved Mac was in. "Oh gosh."

"Mommy, were you really going to kiss Santa?" Emily asked.

"No, sweetie, just thanking him for the presents. Now you two run off to bed while I...help Santa." She said quickly, rushing them out.

"Oh heaven help me!" Mac shouted as he landed in the dumpster with a loud clang.

"Mac?! Are you okay?!" Stella called from the window.

"There's leftover pudding in my eyes." He groaned loudly.

"I'm coming!" Stella shouted, her overcoat and locking the door.

"AH! Racoons! Get 'em off! Ah! They're eating the Chinese food stuck to my back!" Mac shouted, fighting off the scavengers but losing.

"Hold on, honey." Stella bounded out the door, seeing a drunk lawyer, an Irish policeman, a florist in a sun dress and a bee farmer. She paused for a moment to look at them. "Merry Christmas!"

"Oh! There's some kind of soup down here! It's in my racoon wounds!" Mac groaned, finally making his way out of the dumpster. "Oh god, what is this? Whiskey?"

"Mac?" Stella looked left, then right, and kept running.

"What in the world?" Mac pulled something hard and metal out of his beard. "A lighter?"

"Mac?!" Stella called, rounding the corner.

"Ah!" Mac patted dropped to the ground and rolled for his life, trying to put out the whiskey smelling fire. "Stop drop and roll!"

"Oh my god!" Stella put her hands over mouth at the sight of her extra crispy husband. "Mac, baby, are you alright?"

"I guess I'll have to pay that twenty dollar fine."

"Oh..." Mac moaned as Stella rubbed alcohol on the scratch on his shoulder. "Ow!"

"Oh, Mac." Stella sighed concernedly.

"Well the kids had a good Christmas, that's all that matters." Mac smiled as Stella put the alcohol back in their bathroom and came back to bed, still in her favorite shirt of his. It was a black silk dress shirt she bought him but ended up wearing more than him.

"I love you, honey." She kissed his cheek and slid in bed with him, curling up to him on her right side.

"I love you too, Stella." He turned over and wrapped his strongly muscled arms around her delicate form and nestled his face in her curls. "I really hope this doesn't happen again next year, I don't think I can do that again. That was worse than Marine training."

"Well, the kids'll always remember Santa going out the window."

"And you kissing him."

"Well I certainly wasn't expecting you to get lit on fire."

"Either was I."

"I'm just glad you're alright."

"And I never want to eat pudding ever again."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Goodnight Mr. Claus."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Claus."