Author's Note: As you may tell by the title this is a OutlawQueen spin on A Miracle on 34th Street. It might help if you've seen the 1994 remake, but it's not necessary. And please, I beg of you, don't take out your pitchforks when you come upon bits of dialogue from the movie. Hear me out here, because it'll be very, very few instances. The only lines that will not be my own are mostly from Kriss' POV and towards the end (I'll warn you when), because I just don't have the time to give this retelling the creative spin I want to. I wish I did, but true to form, I decided to do this on a whim and with my other stories and work time is just not on my side. But I do promise to make Robin and Regina's story very much my own while being as true to the movie as possible because at the end of the day, it's what's inspired it after all. Okay, whew, that was a lot. Now that I've bored you to tears, I hope you enjoy the story.
~Chapter One~
The sky above is a cobalt blue. It reminds him of the Morpho butterflies in Costa Rica, of fields of Cynoglossum Amiable, Chinese Forget-Me-Not's in the Asian provinces, and of the still, rocky coasts of Greece. The crisp breeze hits his cheeks but he is unbothered by it. He's more than used to the biting temperatures that tinge his cheeks a rosy pink. This is his season, after all.
Christmas.
He jogs the last few feet to the door of the local Starbucks down from his home in time to kindly open the door for a lady and her daughter. She smiles politely at him, tells him Thank you, and heads inside. He smiles at the little girl who is looking up at him with wide knowing eyes, and he suppresses a smirk.
It's always the little ones who know, he thinks, then follows inside. Taking his place in line, he watches the employees and customers as he rocks back and forth on his heels. There's something about this season that brings him a bit of pride. Life tends to slow down, the rush of the days give way to the recognition of the season. Smiles come a bit easier, thanks become more abundant, and hope rises at the coming of a new year.
He may not be solely responsible for it, no, but his presence encourages it nonetheless and for that, he is as proud as can be.
"Papa, ask him," comes a small voice from behind him.
His lips twitch as he glances behind his shoulder. An older man about his own age leans down to the boy standing beside him (not more than seven, he thinks) and ever so gently, scolds, "Shh."
"Ask him," the boy insists moments later, a little stronger this time.
"Shh!"
This time, he looks back and down into a pair of little blue eyes that widen when they lock onto his. He looks over his half-moon glasses and gives the boy a cheerful grin.
The boy's jaw drops right before his hand shoots up and he points. "Look at him, Papa! It's him!"
"August, that's enough." The man's voice is firm, as firm as he supposes is his grip on the boy's hand because the other falls just as his face. When the man straightens, he gives him a sheepish sort of smile. One he knows all too well. It's one of the one things that makes him a bit sad, not for the children, but for the parents. The ability to see, to believe, in the things of magic and dreams faded with their youth. "I'm so sorry," the man begins before clearing his throat, and then, "He... he thinks you're Santa Claus."
He shares a look with the man. One that he's shared with many parents, one full of surprise and then humor. Each of them burst into laughter, share a chuckle between adults, but as it fades he leans down, level with the boy who sees and then winks.
"I am," he tells him and the boys startles with an audible gasp. He stands fully and tips his hat to the man before stepping up to the counter to place his order. "Merry Christmas."
"Uh, Merry-Merry Christmas."
Kris Kringle takes his tall cup of medium blend and gives his thanks to the lady behind the counter. He has just enough time to see the start of the Thanksgiving Day parade.
He hears the boys, "Aw man, I should have gotten his autograph!" and smirks.
Kris really does love this time of year.
#
Regina Mills hasn't had a day off in over a year. She doesn't get normal holidays off because, well, those holidays are what her job is built around. Being the director of special projects for one of the biggest department stores in the city (hell, in the country), this season is her busiest. From Thanksgiving to Christmas she is swamped. Sure, she has a co-director and an assistant, both of whom work just as hard as she, but when things start burning she is the one they come running to, and right now it feels as though she is putting out fires all over the place.
First there was a hole in one of the balloons, and then half of the band fighting nausea, half of them sick with the flu (she kept a wide berth from that), and just as she had that cleaned that up, quite literally, she pulled her ringing phone from her pocket. It's Mal calling to tell her she needs her in the trailer, that she absolutely has to see this to believe it, and Regina rolls her eyes.
She's not in the mood, truthfully. The dress she's worn is red with short sleeves that matched her lipstick. It's Thanksgiving and she wasn't going to be at her parents this year, but at home with her son and her neighbor who loves her in red. It's just a little too thin for this weather but she didn't expect she would be outside in it for the last two hours. She wants the warmth of her apartment and the bottle of wine Robin had bought for them to share, and more importantly, she wants his hands, the ones that subtly brush over her exposed skin, and his lips that steal kisses when their boys are good and distracted.
It's been over a week since they've been together, what with her preparing for this damn parade and his own schedule… being a lawyer has him working just as much as she, if not more so. As much as she hates to admit it, and she truly does, she's an independent woman who's been alone long enough now to know how to ignore those little flares of loneliness and quells of desire, but she still misses him. She thinks if it were just sex it would be easier. She's got her own hand and a vibrator that can get the job done to appease those sort of urges, even though she'd take sex with Robin over the two anyday. She misses him. Their late night talks with glasses of wine after their kids are tucked in. Misses the way his hands always find their way into her hair, he likes its softness, he tells her, but she mostly thinks he just likes using it as an excuse to pull her to him. To brush his lips against hers tentatively until she reciprocates because neither of them is sure of what this is between them.
His touch never fails to send shivers down her spine, and she feels the way he smiles against her lips every time. Smugly, she thinks, the bastard knows he has her, has her heart, and still, she's reluctant to let him keep it too long.
Stepping into the warmth of the trailer, Regina breathes a sigh of relief, not only from the cold but from her wandering thoughts. Mal is standing in the middle of the small room, watching the several monitors along the walls. Her straight as a pin, long, blonde hair falling down the back of her white, button-up blouse that is tucked into her equally pressed, black trousers, making Regina envious of how much more comfortable and warm her co-director looks, but she thought the blonde had everything well in hand. Apparently not.
Mal's arms are crossed and she's biting the tip of her long manicured nail looking like she's holding back a smirk.
Regina huffs. Annoyed. "What's so important you called me here?"
Mal turns her head in Regina's direction and arches a sharp brow, not at all bothered by her mood. Her attention shifts back on one of the screens as she says, "Your new Santa Claus is wearing a topcoat and a fedora."
Regina's brow furrows. She has serious doubts Leroy would ever own a topcoat much less a fedora. Stepping fully into the room, Regina's jaw drops at what she sees on the screen. There, at the end of the parade, their final float, Santa's sleigh, stands a man she's never seen before. Whipping Santa's whip at the fake reindeer and laughing merrily while shouting out instructions to the man on the ground. The man stumbling in the Santa suit with what looks like a bottle of whiskey in his gloved hand.
Regina picks her jaw up from the floor. Her eyes narrow as she tightens her jaw, biting back a string of curses that would make the men and women in uniform just in front of Santa blush. "That's not my Santa Claus," she snaps, then slaps her gaze on Mal. "What the hell is Leroy doing?"
"Drinking," Mal deadpans, then says, "Again."
Regina's teeth sink into her lower lip. After all the chances she's given him, this is how he repays her? She's going to murder him. Not today, because there are children everywhere, but tomorrow when he's sitting in front of Human Resources collecting his final check, she'll kill him.
"Regina, you need to fire him."
Regina lets out a breath and takes one last look at the screen before she looks up at Mal and says, "Oh, believe me. I'm about to."
#
He's always watched the parade. It's become a tradition of his. Every year it gets a bit grander, a bit bigger, a little more politically correct but all is as it should. It's only been the last year or two he's had to really bite his tongue. He can overlook a lot of things, but the poorly replaced Santa Claus from last year is back, and Kris cannot take how ridiculous the man looks up on that sleigh. He doesn't even care enough to smile! Not that you could see it through that overly large, unfitting excuse for a beard…
It's then Kris has a thought. The parade has yet to begin, he has time, and it's not like the other man is doing anything other than looking bored, perhaps with some kind instruction...
Kris walks over to the sleigh with a smile. He compliments the man on his suit, it's not that bad, he reasons, if it were to be washed, and then soon, he is up in the sleigh feeling at home and showing the man just how it's done.
"Right. Now, throw it out…" Kris says, bringing his arm up high but slowly so the fellow can follow along. "Bring it up right up high and down she comes!" The whip snaps with a sharp thwack, sending himself into a chuckle. Not bad for an old man, he thinks. He turns and he sees the man below blinking up at him, stupefied. "It's just in the wrist, you see. It's really quite simple, you know when you get the knack." The man frowns then, and Kris heaves a weary sigh before making his way down from the sled.
The man has his back turned when he gets to the ground, and it doesn't escape Kris' vision when the man lifts a bottle to his lips then tucks it back into his coat. He frowns, and the man and his brightly colored cheeks turn to him with bleary eyes. Holding out his hand, he lets out a ripe burp and says, "Okay pops, come on. It's my turn. Give me the whip."
"What have you been drinking?" he asks, attempting to peer in the man's coat.
However, the man shuffles back and brings his arms up to rest against where the bottle is tucked haphazardly in between the folds of the jacket. "Just something to keep me warm."
His eyes widen, outrage filling his belly. "You are intoxicated, sir."
The man's face falls into a scowl. "Well, you are a giant pain in the ass!"
"You are a disgrace to the name of Santa Claus! You have any idea how many children are watching you?" he scolds, taking the whip back from him. The man reaches for it, but his reflexes are slow, and it gives Kris the upper hand. "Let me tell you something, when you put on this suit you represent something that has great significance to millions of people all over the world. Kris' gaze drops to the man's coat, his lips pulling down at its quality. "Now, I could overlook your poorly-manufactured jacket or even your ludicrously unbelievable beard..."
"Hey!"
"Or perhaps your phonily-padded tummy…" Kris pokes him in the belly and realizes with a start that it's real. The man glares, but he continues, "but I will not tolerate public drunkenness. You should be ashamed of yourself."
In a quick move, Kris pulls the bottle from the man and twists the cap and pours.
The fake Santa lets out a growl and then a muttered, "Can I get a cop over here?"
Kris smirks."That's a very good idea. Officer!"
Luckily, there is one close by, he isn't sure how long he's been standing there but is grateful for his assistance. However, the man in the suit reaches him first. Kris can hear him telling the policeman how Kris isn't supposed to be here… and catches only a few of his words… he's crazy… hit me with the whip…
At that, the officer comes toward him with a stern looking face. "Sir, I'm sorry, but if you're not with the parade, you need to get back on the sidewalk."
The officer grabs him by the elbow, attempting to steer him away from the Santa and away from the float when he protests, "But I need to see whoever's in charge to alert them to this man and his drunkenness..."
"Kiss my hairy, jolly ass, old man."
His eyes widen and he goes to turn back, to tell that man what a horrible image is he presenting, but the officer has a good firm grip on his arm, and he turns him back with ease. "Oh, easy! Take it easy! Gramps, come on, hey, let's go for a little walk."
Kris shakes his head. How could someone let that man be Santa Claus… he doesn't understand. "That man's a degenerate," he murmurs.
"Let's just watch the parade, okay? Come on."
But Kris isn't going to watch the parade. Not anymore. He's not sure he could stomach such a thing.
#
When Regina arrives not five minutes after having left the trailer, she utterly cannot believe what she finds. The man in the topcoat and the fedora is gone and Leroy is climbing up the five steps into the sled.
She tells the driver of the cart to stop and the tiny tires screech to a sudden halt. "Oh, my god." Her mouth drops open, but soon she's looking away and closing her eyes. Leroy's Santa pants slide down off his hips and so does whatever he was wearing underneath.
She can hear people laughing, and she seethes.
"What do you want us to do with him, Miss Mills?" asks the security officer beside her looking almost as unimpressed as she.
"Get him out of here. Human Resources will deal with him tomorrow, but for now, tell him he's free to go drink elsewhere." Stepping out of the cart, she looks all around trying to find the other man ,the other Santa. Asking the police officer nearby on the sidewalk if he's seen him, the man points down toward the direction of the park.
She cannot believe she's running in these heels, not after what she spent on them, but here she is. Her breath escapes her in great big white puffs, at least she's not cold, she thinks bitterly. Fantastic, that's all she needs - to go home to a handsome man with sweat stains. But she doesn't have to worry about that, (Thank God!) because she spots him just as he's about to disappear into the park.
"Sir! Excuse me," she calls out, drawing the attention of everyone in earshot, including the old man. His eyebrows raise up into his hairline when he realizes she's coming for him. She's a bit out of breath, she really needs to go to the gym more, but she gives him her best smile as she nears. "Hello. I'm Regina Mills."
"Oh," he says his smile slowly spreads.
"I'm the director of special projects for Macy's department store," she adds, holding out her hand to him, and his eyes light up.
He takes her offered hand and instead of shaking it, holds it between his own. "My pleasure. As a matter of fact, I was looking for you. There's no doubt you saw your Santa Claus is inebriated."
"I know." She sighs. He's noticed it too, that's fabulous. She should have listened to Mal when she told her not to hire Leroy again, but his brother in the mattress department begged her to give him another chance and she should have known it was a bad idea to feel sympathetic to someone who had a habit of falling asleep on his shifts. Now, because of her sympathy, she's here in the cold about to beg a man to be Santa Claus if only to get her back home. "He's made a mess of everything and now we have a problem because millions of people… millions of children are watching here and on television... They're expecting to see Santa Claus, and now we don't have one."
Their eyes meet, and he begins to nod slowly. "That is a terrible, terrible problem."
Regina wished she had time to talk him into this slowly, to promise him a good salary, and benefits, and whatever the hell else he wished for, but there isn't time. The parade has started and it won't take long for the end to start moving. "Would you do it? Would you be our Santa Claus?" She hates how pleading her voice sounds right now, how desperate it is.
"Uh, me?"
Her eyes search his. Shit. Maybe she'd been mistaken when she saw him up in that sleigh. Maybe he was just having a moment of fun and not truly enjoying himself up there? But he had looked like a natural. He looked like he'd done it all before. Doubt and uncertainty fill her tone with dread. "You don't… do you have experience?"
"Well…" He lets out a little chuckle. "Just a little."
Oh, thank God! She lets out the breath she'd been holding, and looping her arm around his, she grins at him. "I'm sure you'll do fine."
Her hopes don't stay up long though. Soon, he's coming to a stop, and she tilts her head at him. She feels the crease between her brow as she's about to ask what's wrong but he beats her to it.
"Isn't there someone else that you could ask?"
Regina is a mother. She has tremendous amounts of patience built up over the years raising a son on her own, but it is with a heavy audible sigh that she nearly loses it. "Mr…"
His smile is big and wide and quite frankly obnoxious at the moment. "Kringle, Kris Kringle."
She narrows her eyes perceptively and bites the inside of her cheek. Is this just a funny game to him, she wants to ask but doesn't. "Right, Mr. Kringle, the parade has already begun. It's you right now, or else there's no Santa in the Macy's Thanksgiving day parade." His eyes dart away from hers, to the float and an empty sleigh. And then she says the thing that will get him. The thing that's all manipulation and all her mother. "All those poor children... they'll all be so disappointed. You wouldn't want them to be disappointed, would you?"
His face sets into something, something that looks a lot like determination and she tries not to smile too widely when he turns back to her and says, "No, Miss Mills, you're quite right. I wouldn't."
#
The warmth of the trailer is a welcome relief and she lets out a bit of a sigh when she steps in and sees Mal's smiling face. "It's about time."
Regina can hear the sound coming from the screens, and a certain old man in a red Santa suit wishing everyone a "Merry Christmas" as the float passes by. She's never been so happy to be done with this parade. Her feet are killing her and she's still freezing, not just on the outside but feels it from within. She wants hot cider spiked with something that'll take away the chill and warm arms she knows will be all too willing to wrap around her.
"I can't believe you pulled it off," Mal tells her, taking her eyes from the screen to lock her gaze with hers. "Please tell me you got him to work for us."
Regina smirks. "I did. Ruby's going to have him fill out his paperwork, and he'll start tomorrow morning. But he insisted upon wearing his own Santa suit."
Mal's eyebrows raise. "He has his own?"
"Apparently."
"Well, if it's horrible, we'll make him wear one of ours."
"That's what I told him." She lets out a small laugh before flicking her eyes over all the other screens making sure there are no other fires she needs to put out before she leaves. They both watch, minutes pass, and then she finally decides the blonde has everything well in hand."Alright, I'm going home."
"You're not going to stay and watch the parade with me?"
While Mal's voice sounds put-out, Regina knows she really doesn't care all that much. She'll stay until the parade is over and then head back up to her fifth avenue apartment, to her daughter and new girlfriend and be just as content as Regina's about to be. "No. I think I've had quite enough for one day, thank you. I will see you in the morning."
"Bring coffee and tell that handsome neighbor of yours I said hello."
Regina turns and their eyes meet. There's no point in denying it. Mal knows he comes to her office, she's been at her apartment when he's been there or knocks on her door. She knows about the looks they share, has pointed them out on many occasions.
So it's with a soft knowing smile and an "I always do," that she leaves.