A/N: Christmas greetings, I have branched out of my usual realms of Marvel into the world that is DC! Well done me! This happened in a maths class, somehow. This! Happened! Me and my friend got thinking, how does Santa get around the Earth so quickly? The only reasonable explaination... He is a Meta Human... Right?
This was written, one to get it out of my head, two because I thought you guys might like it and three for my Bae Vampire salvatore!
So follow, favourite and review, please? :)
~I've been Jotunheim Storm~
Thanks xoxo
My name is Barry Allen and I'm the fastest man alive.
Faster than anything you can think of. A hell lot faster than a cheetah, quicker than that white Veyron I just passed, speedier than Shanghai Maglev. The faster train in the world. Ha, fast. Didn't even have to try. Swifter than Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird, quickest plane in the world. Yes, it was in the sky and I was on the ground, stupid Caitlin and her safety regulations, but I still beat its record. Potentially I could out run light but that would be dangerous, with the slight chance I may be suck into a black hole, but heck, I was rapider! The list of things I was faster than could go on and on but my amount of synonyms for faster didn't. You get the picture anyway.
I'm fast.
A certain jolly old chap who sees you when you're sleeping, and he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, yeah him, found out about this. How, I have no idea. I honestly didn't even believe he was real. Boy, was I wrong. He had a little situation, let's say this, do not drink before you get on the sleigh. Is there a law against drink sleighing? There probably should be. Apparently I was the only other person capable of doing the job, he didn't trust Mrs Claus with the reindeer.
My problem now, was I faster than Santa?
"Barry!" Harrison called out to me.
I shuffled out of the changing room, still sulking. I crossed my arms across my chest, huffing. I heard a unison chorus of laughter as I stood in the middle of STAR Labs.
"Tinsel, really Cisco?" I snapped.
The laughter only escalated filling the room with hysteria. I rolled my eyes, taking no pleasure from their Christmas jokes. I took another hateful look at myself in the mirror. My once red and yellow suit was red and green. I could cope with that but there was everything else. Tinsel had been used instead of thread, itching against my skin. My lightning bolt that was once across my chest had become a bunch of mistletoe. And the icing on the cake was my helmet. A Christmas hat had been sewn onto the top of it. Made with the exact same fabric my suit was. I looked beyond ridiculous.
"This isn't even funny!" I cried.
I watched angrily as Cisco wiped a tear away from his eyes as he tried to control his laughter.
"Nobody can even see me! What was the point?" I moaned.
I had no response from any of my supposed friends. Cisco carried on crying with laughter, Caitlin failed containing her giggles, Dr Well chuckled to himself, but Joe just came out with it. Laughing in my face.
"Well maybe you raise a little money at the food bank, Streak?" Joe mocked me.
I cursed under my breath, silently crossing them all of my Christmas list. Saves me money.
"I'll be a joke!" I exclaimed.
Caitlin managed to supress her laughter for a brief moment to speak to me.
"Arrow does his bit for Christmas," she reasoned.
I scoffed, like Oliver would ever have to do anything so moronic! This Barry, is why you need to learn to sew, then you are in charge of your own costume.
"Can't I just give them the flipping money?!" I asked.
My remark only made the laughter grow and grow. My cheeks flushed a bright red. I was used to banter from Cisco but this took it to a whole new level.
"I don't have to put up with this," I shouted.
I turned on my heel, storming out the room my cheeks burning and my fists clenched.
"You know you could leave quicker if you ran," Dr Wells called after me.
"Of course he does, he just enjoys his diva moments," Joe laughed.
I continued to swear as I stomped down the stairs. I am not a diva, I just don't enjoy being mocked constantly.
Well you are walking extremely slowly down stairs you could have easily scaled if you ran.
Maybe I am a diva.
A chill ran through the brisk air as I walked down the street a pretty average pace. Wow, slow was boring. The sun began setting on the horizon. I watched the sunlight creep through past the tall skyscrapers they dominated the landscape. The light allowed the snow-covered buildings' snowflakes to shimmer like tiny diamonds. As I walked, the crunching on dry snow beneath my feet filled my ears. The air was crispy, and my cheeks were rosy. Even the tip of my nose feels cold. I chuckled, listening laughter from children playing in the snow. I heard the soft tinkling of jingle bells carried through the air by the cool winter's breeze. I shook my head, pulling my collar closer to my neck. Grow up Barry, Santa is not real.
I unlocked the door to my apartment, throwing my suit on the couch and I headed into the kitchen, fumbling through my stuff looking for those mince pies I bought. What? They're delicious and festive!
"One for me too please," someone with a British accent called.
I span on my heel, grabbing a gun pointing it out the source of the voice.
"Guns? The Barry Allen I know never believed in violence," the voice chuckled.
I knew that whole hearted laughter in an instant. The sound of my childhood. I felt a swamp of sentimentality run over me like a river.
"Santa," I said breathlessly.
"Please, call me Nick, we're all friends here… My, my Barry you are fast now aren't you," he mused.
My jaw dropped and I gasped.
"Oh don't look so surprised, I am Father Christmas for goodness sake! And I know about your friend Oliver. And yes, he is doing his bit… It his own stubborn way but nevertheless, I am in need Barry or do you prefer the Flash?" he smirked.
I simply stood there, for many minutes simply trying to understand what the heck was going on. Santa?
"You got hit by lighting and accepted that faster, am I really that unbelievable? I'm just like you, older yes, but the same principle," he laughed.
Santa Claus, a Meta human?
That actually makes sense.
"I was one before it was hip, now you all are, aren't you. I had a Walkman before they were on trend too…" he reminisced.
I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to go through every single option I had… Santa was real?!
"I have two abilities actually. Immortality… Sadly it didn't keep me young, I was quite a spiffing chap, I looked similar to you… but spiky hair was unheard of back then… I'm talking again aren't I?" he apologised.
I nodded sheepishly, a smile tugging at my lips. Here stood Santa Claus, St. Nick, Father Christmas… In my apartment. Best Christmas EVER! He was just as I imagined, even better. He was rounded, with his large belly buttoned into his iconic red jacket. A white trim, dusted with snow. His curly white beard, definitely winning the beast beard of the year prize, sorry Dumbledore. And the jolliest expression ever. Maybe too jolly.
"Also… Mind reading. How else do you think I know what you want? Writing letter?! Psh! Who came up with that rubbish? Parents?" he exclaimed.
I couldn't help bursting into laughter. I sat down on the couch, still trying to understand the gravity of what was happening. There were Meta humans before the accident? Going to have to talk to Dr Wells about that one.
"I rather you didn't tell anyone Barry. I would only like people that truly believe in me, pestering me. I really don't like the army trying to steal my elves. How rude, I do not steal their soldiers, why steal my elves? I am the same as you, not in it for the glory. I help those who need it, whether they believe or not. But… I do like the mince pies!" he chortled.
I watched him very closely, there was just something about his mannerisms and the way his eyes glazed over. The biggest give away though was the smell of brandy on his breath. Santa was drunk.
"Yes! Fine, am I a little tipsy Barry but elves really shouldn't leave a bottle open, without a lid on! I thought, oh I better drink I before it evaporates and poof! I've drunk it all! Oh Barry, help an old chap out will you?" he begged.
I slung the sack over my shoulder damn this was heavy and yet again pulled up the pants over my waist. I stood still, letting Mrs Claus brush the suit down, mumbling something about her no good husband. Well, we all have our flaws. She was a tall, slender woman who looked didn't look over thirty let alone old enough to be married to Santa. She still however had the snow white hair much like her husband.
"Thank you darling, that is very kind of you. My immortality has kept my illusion of youth much longer than Nicolas, poor old chap," she mused.
I stood on the snow, shaking profusely in my new Santa suit, made from the same exact material Cisco used in the Flash suit. Mrs Claus grinned happily, impressed by her work.
"Oh good luck darling, I have a very precise schedule, please keep to it. No dilly dallying! And no drinking" she demanded.
I nodded, not wanting to argue with her.
"I can't get drunk," I pointed out.
She let out a sigh of relief, sniggering slightly.
"Oh Barry, I wish the world was full of more men like you," she yearned.
"What? Kind… And good?" I asked unsure.
"No, the ability not to get drunk!" she exclaimed.
I let out a little laugh before running off the first house. The cold air brushed violently against my unprotected skin. I pressed my ear plug further into my ear, hearing the commands from Mrs Claus.
"House up ahead, triplets. Michael, Henry and Joseph, all wanting red bikes" she informed me.
I fell onto my knees, into a tight compressed space. I crawled out from the chimney breast, coughing up soot caught in my lungs. Fern 17 Washington. I walked out into the homely living room, red lights on the Christmas illuminating the otherwise dark room. I knelt down, about to put the package down when I heard tip toes down the stairs. Damn! I've been busted!
I didn't move though, frozen with fright. I gulped as the figure came into view. A young girl stood in front of me. Her long black hair fell just above her waist. Her deep brown eyes looked straight into mine. I held my breath, praying a miracle would let me out of this.
"Santa Claus?" she questioned.
I nodded, breath Barry breath.
"Oh my!" she sobbed. "You're real!"
Her eyes seemed to glisten with tears of either sheer disbelief or something else like desperation.
"They told me I was too old to believe," she murmured.
I let out a sigh, preparing myself for the best British accent I could handle. I couldn't do accents.
"Who told you that? Seventeen! Ha, next they'll be saying the Walkman is out of style," I chuckled, trying to remember the jolliness.
"They are," she said.
I sighed, rolling my eyes.
"Just because someone doubts you, doesn't mean you should. Believe in everything you have faith in," I reassured her.
She nodded sadly, I could tell just from her bad posture she was hurting. Her figure hunched and eyes brimming with tears.
"Like the Streak," she mumbled.
I looked up to her confused, she grinned guiltily her eyes smirking.
"He saved my life from a speeding car, I didn't see his face but I still remember his green eyes," she sighed.
I gulped feeling an undeniable sense of pride, she remembered me. No one ever remembered me. I pulled out the package from behind me and passed the colourfully wrapped present to her. She grinned, as if she already knew what it was. She placed it under the tree, mouthing she would save it for morning. I nodded, walking out into the corridor. I turned to her before I left.
"Please tell those horrible girls from me, they're on my naughty list. And please inform Bethany, no amount of conceal will cover those spots, a little parting gift from me to her," I laughed.
She beamed as I pushed open the door. As I stepped out into the brisk air, she embraced me tightly.
"Tell the Streak from me, thank you," she asked.
I nodded, gulping back the tears leaving the house with the cockles of my heart being warmed.
"I had a strict schedule!" Mrs Claus screamed.
She paced around in front of me, fuming extremely. Santa rested his hand on her shoulder, sighing. She exhaled deeply, leaving the room to get a glass of brandy to "calm her nerves."
"You did well Barry, I'm impressed," he noted.
I nodded, sitting down my whole body aching from the running and the eating and the drinking all at once. How he did it every year was beyond me.
"I know you asked me for your father all those years ago Barry but some things you cannot change. And for that I am truly sorry. But I believe you were given these powers, as was I. To protect the innocent and save hope. Like you did for Fern, thank you," he said earnestly.
I let out a sigh of relief, feeling proud I'd done his job well. Even better that he had listen to my letter. My honestly, I was knackered, my whole body ached with fatigue.
"Well, if you're so good, you can do it again next year," he offered.
I had never run so fast in my life, making sure I left no trails.
No way! Never ever again!
I grabbed my phone the second I reached my apartment, dialling Oliver's number into my phone, waiting only one moment for him to pick up.
"I'm spending Christmas with you next year," I declared.
"Santa?" he asked.
"Santa," I confirmed.