Just a side not before you begin: In this story, there is an OC who I created in a previous story, White Walls. You might want to read that first if you care to understand who she is. If you have read it already, good for you, continue forth! If you haven't read it and don't care to, then, basically, the OC is Alfred and Arthur's adopted daughter. Okay, now that that's out of the way, read on!
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
It was Christmas Eve, and snowflakes gently danced down to kiss the snow-laden ground and the frosted window panes of the Kirkland-Jones household. Within the home, warmed by the fireplace, sat Arthur in the rocking chair, and his daughter, Monica, on his lap, her head resting on his knitted-jumper covered chest as he rocked them back and forth, back and forth; the creaking of the wooden chair almost, but not quite, drowning out the quiet playing of Christmas songs in the background.
The drone of creaks and music soon weren't the only things filling the silence, as Monica spoke up, "Mommy, you know Santa Claus…?"
Arthur continued to rock and knit mittens for his daughter as he humorously replied, "Yes, dear, I've heard of him. What about him?"
Monica leant back from nuzzling her mother to look him in the eye, "He's trespassing on private property, isn't he?" Arthur slowed the chair to a halt and paused in knitting, thinking in stunned silence for a moment on his daughter's surprising intellect for her age, but eventually picked up his rocking and knitting again.
"Not really, dear, for, you see, he's welcome here. How else would we get our presents?" Monica seemed to think on it for a second, but after not being able to come up with a good response she just submitted to nuzzling back into her mother's chest and grabbing a handful of his jumper into her balled up fist.
"Do you think Santa got my Christmas wish list?" she asked next, her eyes drooping shut as the rhythmic rocking lulled her.
"Of course he did, poppet. Santa is a very organised man, I think you should know, and always delivers the childrens' wishes to them."
"Unless they've been bad, right?" Monica added in.
"Yes, unless they've been bad." Arthur smiled, "But you haven't, have you, dear?" He felt Monica shake her head against his chest in response, "You do all your homework and chores, you clean your plate at meals, and you brush your teeth before bed. Why, you're practically an angel!" Monica giggled in delight at her mother's praise, her cheeks dusted pink. "Hey, have I been good?" Arthur asked, peering down at his beaming child.
"Yes, mommy, you've been good. You work hard, and you do all the chores, and you don't get so angry all the time."
"That's good to know." Arthur sighed contentedly, "What about your father? Has he been good?"
"Um…" Monica thought for a minute, seeming torn with herself, "…Kind of?"
Arthur chortled for a bit, and even when he stopped he still smiled endearingly, "What makes you say that?"
"Well, he doesn't really do any chores, except for cooking, and he's lazy a whole lot…but he does work hard too, and he's a whole lot of fun."
"Ah, yes, I see where you're coming from." Arthur agreed, thinking on Alfred, and how in spite of his cons he certainly had a fair amount of pros to make up for them.
"And he's a hero, isn't he?"
Arthur grimaced, "Self-proclaimed."
"What does that mean?" Monica asked, screwing up her nose in confusion at the new word that she couldn't wrap her head around.
"It means, uh…so called by oneself, or…or described by oneself. Um, in other words, he gave himself the title of hero, whether or not others agree."
"But you can agree! He's heroic!"
"And you've been brainwashed by your own father." Arthur laughed, "We agree to disagree, alright, so hush now." And Monica did hush, for a minute or two, but then she couldn't help but to speak up again.
"Where is daddy anyway?"
Arthur bit his lip and tried to continue rocking and knitting and not appear suspicious, "Um, out. He went, uh…out."
"But he has to come back soon!" Monica cried, "Or he'll miss Santa!" She looked up at the grandfather clock which read two minutes to midnight.
"Oh, Monica dear, I'm sure he'll be here eventually. Maybe not on time, for he isn't a punctual man, but fashionably late, I'm sure. And besides, if he does miss Santa then you can brag about the experience you had and he didn't and tell him all about Santa." Monica had no protest after that, and receded back into the warm fabric of her mother's jumper once more.
Time ticked on, all essence of silence washed away by the creak of the rocking chair, the clack of the knitting needles, the quiet songs of Christmas playing, and the new addition of Arthur's lulling hum which caused Monica to yawn wearily. She had never stayed up so late after all, and whilst it was somewhat exciting to still be up when the moon was, it was also very tiring, and her eyes were just starting to truly slide close and her consciousness subside…
…When there came a loud knocking on the door.
Monica immediately jolted from her drowsy state, more alert now, excitement winning over tiredness and a smile playing about her face, "Is that daddy?!"
"Could be." Arthur replied, setting his knitting down and then setting his daughter down on the ground where she proceeded to run to the door. When she got there, she jumped up and down and waited excitedly for her mother to reach the door and open it. She didn't even think on why her father behind the door wasn't opening it, for her mind was too overrun with the thoughts of all of her family finally meeting Santa together.
She tugged at her mother's pants as he opened the door, her little feet still tapping about, her eyes wide and sparkling, beaming when the door opened to reveal none other than a man with a beard of white and clothes of red and a bulging sack over his shoulder.
Monica gasped in the utmost surprise, "SANTA!"
"Ho, ho, ho!" Santa bellowed, his eyes of blue sparkling underneath his red hat, "Merry Christmas!" Monica squealed in delight and ran around Santa's legs as he entered the room, and Arthur tittered to himself as he closed the door behind their merry guest.
"Now," Santa said, plopping himself down on the big, squishy armchair by the fire and letting his sack fall down beside him, "I got a nice letter from a little girl going by the name of Monica Kirkland-Jones. Should that happen to be you?" Monica nodded so quickly that it looked as though her head were about to rocket off of her neck, "Well then, come up on ol' Santa's lap so he can get a good look at you!"
Santa Claus did not need to ask this of Monica twice – she was scrambling onto his lap in a matter of milliseconds, and when there she bounced on his knee giddily. Santa placed a hand on the small of her back to keep her in place and another hand on her lap. She grabbed his hand in return, smiling up at him in utter bliss.
"So you want Santa to give a pretty little lady like you a gift?" Monica grinned sheepishly, blushing hard and nodding her head daintily, flattered by Santa's compliments, "Well, I can do that, but first you've got to tell me: are you a good girl?"
"Yes!" Monica nodded vigorously this time, her bashfulness leaving her, "Mommy said that I am!"
"Is that so?" Santa grinned, glancing over at Arthur who had sidled over to stand beside the chair, "Well, such a beautiful mommy could never be wrong, am I right?" Monica nodded, "Well, in that case, Monica Kirkland-Jones, I hereby dub you a nice child this year, and award you with…" he paused as he leant over the chair to rummage in his sack, coming back up again with a present in his hand, "…this lovely gift, just for you."
Monica couldn't help squealing happily and then bursting into laughter as she took the present gratefully and hugged it close to her chest. She rubbed her cheek against the blue of the wrapping paper and the green of the ribbon adorning it, feeling absolutely jovial.
"Now, darling, what do you say to Santa Claus?" Arthur interrupted her reverie, crossing his arms and looking at her sternly.
Monica looked up into the blue of Santa's eyes and smiled warmly at him, "Thank you, Santa Claus."
Santa chuckled heartily as he picked Monica up from his lap and placed her on the floor, "Anything for you, child." He then turned to Arthur, seeming to smile widely underneath his beard, "And who might you be, beautiful mommy?"
"Arthur Kirkland-Jones." mommy replied, beaming from ear to ear and looking as though he were trying to refrain from laughing.
"Well, Arthur Kirkland-Jones, whoever married you must be one lucky guy, hmm?" Santa Claus winked, and Arthur couldn't help letting a stray titter loose. "Come and sit on Santa's lap, then, Artie." Arthur complied with Santa's wishes, settling down on his knee, and this time Santa cradled the nape of Arthur's neck in one hand, and placed his other hand on the Briton's hip.
"Have you been good this year, mommy?" Santa asked, his face appearing to be rather close to Arthur's.
"Why, of course." Arthur replied confidently, not seeming to mind the closeness at all. Monica was baffled at this. Normally her mommy hated people getting too close to him unless he had close ties with them. Did her mommy have close ties with Santa Claus then?
"In that case," Santa replied, rummaging through his sack once more, "here's a gift for you, gorgeous." He presented Arthur with a green-wrapped present decorated with a ribbon of silver, and Arthur smiled and took it with a warm smile and a polite thank you.
"If you're going to thank me," Santa purred, leaning in closer yet, "how about thanking me with a kiss?"
"Oh, I couldn't." Arthur purred in return, "I'm a married man."
"But you could." Santa insisted, "Because I'm a sexy man."
Arthur laughed giddily, clutching his gift to his chest, "True enough."
"So then?" Santa urged, and Arthur sighed in defeat.
Monica watched on in confusion as her mother leant in and kissed Santa Claus full on the mouth, not at all minding the tickly bits of beard and moustache that got in on the action. Santa Claus ran his gloved hand through Arthur's hair, and Arthur cradled Santa's cheek with the palm of his hand and wrapped his other arm around Santa's neck. Monica stuck her tongue out and screwed her nose up in disgust at the icky display of her mommy kissing Santa Claus, turning around to go and place her present under the bright and colourful Christmas tree and hoping such a pretty sight would erase her memory.
When Arthur pulled away from his kiss with Santa Claus, the bearded man laughed, but quietly enough to not disturb Monica from arranging her presents. "How'd I do, Artie? Was I a good Santa Claus?"
Arthur gasped in mock disbelief and placed his hand over his chest as if steadying himself, his eyes wide, "You mean you're not Santa Claus? Fraud!" Santa Claus laughed at that, and Arthur sighed and shook his head, straightening out his beard, "You did a great job at lying to your child, Alfred."
"Hey, I resent that!" Alfred pouted, "I prefer to call it fooling her."
"Call it what you will, you're still a liar."
"Does that mean I'm going on the naughty list?" Alfred grinned cheekily.
"Naughty list?" Arthur smirked in return, "You hold a record."
Author's notes: Merry Christmas, everyone! Here's a cute, fluffy fic with Alfred, Arthur and their daughter, Monica, who you will remember from my other story, White Walls. If you read it, that is. Anyway, I just got inspired by the title of the song I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, and thought an idea like this would be sweet. Come on, you can all imagine Alfred as the sort of dad to dress up as Santa for his kid! You know you can!
Alright, well I hope all of you get what you wished for this Christmas, whether it be world peace or a pink rainbow unicorn pony (and, for the record, Arthur totally wished for the latter).
Oh, and e-cookies for those who recognise a quote in this story and can tell me its source! ;D
Critique is welcomed, comments are appreciated!
Thank you and enjoy!
Alfred (America) and Arthur (England) belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
AnorexicWalrus~