Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Reality of Santa ❯ The Reality of Santa ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. This fan fiction has no commercial value, and I am not making any kind of profit or income off of this story or the use of characters owned by Sunrise and Bandai.

 

The Reality of Santa

 

“He's real! He really is real!” Dorothy insisted.

 

The two boys rolled their eyes.

 

“Santa's not real,” Milliardo said, getting a little aggravated with the girl's stubbornness.

 

“He is!”

 

“You're a little too old to still be believing in that old myth,” Treize told her. “Your father seems to think it's `sweet' how you still believe in Santa, so he won't tell you the truth. Santa's a fraud. Parents just use it to keep children in line during the Christmas season.”

 

Dorothy glared at the two. “He brings presents! Which you two obviously won't get!” She returned to writing her last minute note to the jolly old man. She had already written five letters in the past week alone arguing her case that her name deserves to appear on the Nice List despite some discrepancies. Now, she added that most of those were against these naughty nonbelievers, so that did not really count, right?

 

“You're just wasting your time. You could just tell your father right now,” Milliardo said. He tried to take the paper, but Dorothy held it to her breast protectively.

 

The older boys stood up and went to grab her letter. She held onto it tightly and dashed out of the room, prompting them to chase her. She ran down the stairs and dodged a few uncles. The boys expertly maneuvered through the crowd in unison. Their moves did not go unnoticed, however, and a few aunts yelled for them to stop running or Santa would not bring them a thing. Other cousins saw the chase and figured Treize and Milliardo were harassing Dorothy again, so they joined the chase as well, in order to stop them from pestering the “poor girl.”

 

Dorothy ran through the ball room; she slid on her dress across the dance floor, freshly waxed for tomorrow's party. The boys had no skirts to slide on, and their outfits would not do so well, so they ran after, slipping on every other step along the way. More cousins had noticed the chase. They were too young to care about Dorothy's wellbeing—and they probably would not have cared about it anyway since she was the one who frequently stole their gifts before they could return home—but they thought the chase was a game and soon joined.

 

Once she reached the other end of the room, she scrambled to her feet and rushed to another room: the music room. She ducked under the piano. The older, taller boys had to go around the grand piano and the huge harp and between the cello and tuba, and they had to go through a maze of other closely stored musical instruments. The younger cousins who had recently joined the chase were able to follow Dorothy's path and quickly gave the girl a buffer between her and the naughty nonbelievers.

 

She ran down the hall and accidentally entered the room where her grandfather and much older uncles and great-uncles were relaxing and winding down for the night. They sat on the couches smoking cigars and drinking their manly alcoholic beverages. Dorothy did not have time to falter at choosing this room, so she just blazed on through it. They yelled at her and the others as they plowed on by the older men. The older children received a more severe bellowing as they should know better, but Treize and his companions did not pay them any more attention than the younger ones did.

 

Dorothy then reached the last leg of her journey. She ran down the stairs—some of the cousins stumbled, but there was no time to help them, and they were left to save themselves—and then she ran into the kitchen. She found sanctuary standing behind Mrs. Kaeilan, who was the only woman formidable enough to bring the entire train of children to a halt with one word and glare. Even the older cousins stopped in their tracks and gulped when she gave them the don't-miss-with-my-kitchen glare. Dorothy, still behind the housekeeper, wrapped her arms around the middle-aged woman's waist and sent her original pursuers a satisfied smirk.

 

“Now no more roughhousing, especially around my area to clean,” the woman ordered. “It's almost time for bed. I've made batches of cookies for tomorrow and for St. Nick tonight. You kids can have some tonight for a bedtime sweet.” She pulled out the plates of cookies, and the children dove in. Even the older cousins could not resist joining the scramble and grabbing a couple of Mrs. Kaeilan's cookies.

 

Eventually, they were sent upstairs to head off to bed with full tummies. Each family took a plate with a couple cookies and a glass of milk. As they climbed the stairs, Treize leaned down and whispered into Dorothy's ear, “After your father checks on you tonight, wait a few minutes. Sneak out and check on your stocking. You'll see for yourself that he's not real.”

 

She shot him a dirty look and mouthed “he is!” Then she ran up a little to walk up the rest of the way with one of her female cousins.

 

****

 

Later that night, after she had laid out the note and her father tucked her tightly into bed, Dorothy struggled to stay awake. She would get up and go do as Treize suggested. She would show that he was lying and that Santa was real. He just lost faith because he was a bad boy. She heard footsteps and shut her eyes tightly making sure to lie still. She heard the door creak open, and she could see light through her eyelids. Her father must be making sure she was asleep. Once he left, she waited as long as she could stand.

 

When she could not bear to lie in bed any longer, she jumped out and ignored grabbing her slippers. She tiptoed down the hall being very careful not to make a sound. As she came to the room, she froze at the doorway. Her father stood with his hand down her stocking; he turned and looked at her with a very guilty expression.

 

Dorothy screamed, “Daddy's trying to steal my stocking!”