Chapter Text
Emily knew her handler had been too gleeful when he had announced a last-minute update in the case they’d been pursuing and she was coincidentally assigned her first solo undercover mission.
Because here she is. Standing in front of a fingerprint-covered mirror in the cramped mall changing room, wincing at the glaring white light that shines down from the low ceiling. How do they even sell anything with this unflattering light illuminating every person’s flaws?
Unfortunately, her eyes get used to the brightness enough to properly stare at her own reflection. Emily presses her lips tightly together and tugs at the hem of her short, bright red skirt, unsuccessfully trying to cover more of the red-and-white striped leggings she is wearing underneath. An item which is a serious affront to god, but the true offenders are the slippers with a small golden bell at the pointy toes that await her next to the bag she has stashed her regular clothes in.
The less to be said about any of it, the better.
With one more poorly muted groan, Emily steps into the slippers, steadfastly refusing to look back at the mirror as she pulls a Santa hat over her head to complete the look. Her eyes fall on the pair of elf ears that had come with her uniform for the day, but that decision is made quickly and now the ears are oh-so-unfortunately lost to the endless depths of her tote bag.
She is already never going to live this down and she refuses to give her colleagues any more leverage.
Emily crouches down to search through her bag, freezing when the slightest movement of her feet bring about a light jingle. Her fingers tighten in the fabric as she closes her eyes and takes a handful of deep, measured breaths.
Here’s the thing: usually she is all for predictability when it comes to investigating her marks. However, right now she’s cursing the fact that this mark’s predictable quality is that he has brought his kids to take a family photo with Santa in this exact mall, on this day, for four years in a row. According to his online activity, similar plans are in place again this year.
And Emily, as the rookie agent on their team, has apparently pulled the short straw.
She finds the bug she’s meant to plant on him and slips it into her pocket, straightening up. With one last fruitless tug on her skirt, she swivels around and pulls the curtain open, plastering on a smile when she comes face to face with her colleague for the day. Maria – a familiar face from the mission briefing – is wearing the elf ears and returns Emily’s smile, but her eyes are dead as can be.
“First time?” Maria asks.
Emily nods.
“Fourth year.” Maria points to herself, and suddenly Emily understands the lack of emotion behind her eyes. “Final year, unless my senior year of college doesn’t work out. In which case, please kill me.”
Emily blinks.
Maria sighs. “Tough crowd. Well, just stick with me, I’ll help you get through the day. You’ve been scheduled to assist Santa along with me. You can deal with the kids, and I’ll deal with the parents.”
Emily’s brows rise and she frowns sceptically. “Are you—“
“Trust me,” Maria stresses, eyes wide. “The parents are much, much worse.”
Emily is going to quit the CIA after this mission.
“Grab your bag, you can stash it with mine behind the backdrop.” Maria gestures to the sad pile on the changing room floor. She twists around, then pauses and turns back, adding as an afterthought, “I’m Maria, by the way.”
“Emily,” Emily says.
Maria’s eyes flit across Emily’s form, lingering beside her face. “You’ll be fine with the ears off for today,” she finally says. “But be prepared to put them on tomorrow, because you’ll likely get a warning from our Head Elf otherwise.”
If her mark by any chance doesn’t come by today, Emily is going to quit the CIA, then circle back to do some serious harm to her handler.
“And it’s sad that a sentence like that has to leave my mouth.” Maria drops the fake smile to stare unseeingly into the distance.
Emily slowly leans down to gather her stuff. When she straightens up, she clears her throat, snapping maria out of her funk.
“Right!” Maria announces, smile back on her face. “Follow me.”
Emily trails behind Maria through the store back out front to the mall. It’s strangely empty and quiet, when you’re used to the bustle of a busy place like this. The call time for this job had been at an ungodly hour to ‘preserve the magic’ for any kids who might otherwise catch a glimpse of two depressed elves dragging tote bags with regular human clothes along.
…Or a glimpse of a half-dressed-up Santa.
He’s standing in front of the small platform that has been decorated appropriately in the Christmas theme, along with a full North Pole-style backdrop and red loveseat. Maria heads straight for the setup and introduces Emily.
“Jim,” half-dressed Santa says, firmly shaking her hand.
Emily can’t help it as she stares down at his outfit. He’s wearing the signature red pants and black boots, but has nothing but an undershirt on his upper half. A proper white beard grows from his face, but his head is bald. He is a character for sure, but there is a gentle kindness to him that instantly makes Emily understand why he is in this job voluntarily.
“Emily,” she introduces herself again.
“Glad to have you here with us today,” Jim says genuinely. He glances around, gaze flitting past the cluster of people dressed as elves floating about, before he looks back at Emily. “Care for some coffee?”
“I have a feeling I’m going to need it,” Emily says, a strained chuckle bubbling past her lips.
Jim winks and pats her on the shoulder. “Smart choice. First drink of the day is on me. I know the barista at the café on this floor, and he always opens up a little earlier just for us.”
When Jim gets whisked away to be further transformed into Santa, Emily gets sent to the café with a list of the crew’s orders and his credit card in hand— despite her protests that she could pay for herself (or more so, the CIA could pay for it; letting her abuse the company card is the least they owe her). She returns some fifteen minutes later with two loaded trays and the crew swarms towards her, plucking their drinks from her grip. She is left with just her own and Jim’s, which she sets aside for him before finally taking a sip of her much-needed caffeine. The brief reprieve from others is the perfect opportunity to look around and get a lay of the land.
Maria and Emily might make up the team to welcome the families and get kids situated with Santa – that’s the kind of access Emily needs to plant a bug on her mark – but at least seven other people are currently milling about to handle the camera, the photo printing and the general people-wrangling.
“Ready?”
Emily nearly jumps out of her skin when Maria appears at her side. Heat rises to her cheeks as she composes herself. “As ready as I will ever be.” She chugs down the last of her coffee and throws out the cup, looking expectantly at Maria, who kindly allows Emily to follow her like a lost duckling as she explains the basics.
There’s not much to it: Maria will welcome the family and, unless the parents request to come with, she’ll stay with them and send the kid(s) to Emily. It is her task to get them situated with Santa ready for a short chat – “There’s technically an unofficial time-limit for each visit, but Jim’s pretty adept at keeping track of that himself” – before stepping aside so a picture can be taken.
Simple, really.
Or at least that is how it sounds, until you’re dealing with crying, snotty, germy kids, unsatisfied parents and a lot of general grumpiness at the long wait to meet Santa. Hour one flies by as Emily gets the hang of things, but soon that time starts to drag and the overstimulation from the array of sounds, smells and twinkling lights of the busy mall creep up on her.
There are cute kids too, Emily placates herself. Her smile strains her cheeks when she lifts child number one-million-and-something up to sit next to Santa. Cute kids with cute wishes and kind parents, and she’s four hours in and her mark hasn’t come by yet and Emily is definitely going to kill someone—
“You want to visit Santa by yourself? We can definitely do that! If you wait for a second, you can climb up these steps and my friend Emily will get you situated, okay?” Maria’s bubbly voice drifts over, rising above the buzz of the mall.
Emily has a newfound appreciation for the woman’s resilience. If she wasn’t undercover, she might have suggested Maria look into a job at the CIA purely for that character trait alone.
The camera shutter clicks, and Santa says his goodbye to a girl and her dad. Emily directs them to the steps at the side of the platform, where another elf awaits to keep them busy until their picture has been printed. With her back turned to the general public, she takes a second to relax her face, massaging her aching cheeks with her fingertips. Sadly there is no time for a real break, and she presses her lips back together in some semblance of a smile as she twists on her feet, heading to the front of the platform where Maria is making small-talk with a mom.
The mom can’t be much older than Emily, and Emily can’t help but notice her striking blue eyes when she halts in her conversation with Maria and looks up. She has a loving arm wrapped around the little boy with matching long blond hair leaning back against her lips, who is positively vibrating with excitement.
Emily gives the woman a small, surprisingly genuine smile before she holds out her hand to the boy. “Hi! Come on up!”
The woman drops her arm, but even still the boy glances back up at her for confirmation. When she nods and gives him a nudge, he grabs Emily’s hand and climbs up the steps.
“Hi!” the kid says, smiling happily at her. His hesitation is gone like snow before the sun, and he doesn’t look back at his mom once, a new determination in the set of his shoulders as he marches on. He keeps hold of Emily’s hand until they’re right in front of Santa.
“Would you like some help getting up?”
“Yes, please,” the kid says politely. Emily scoops him up and carefully sits him next to Santa, who greets him with a booming voice and asks for his name.
“I’m Henry,” Henry says. He hesitates, then holds out his hand to Santa who smiles and shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you!”
Emily can’t help but be enamoured by the kid’s gentlemanly manners.
“It’s very nice to meet you too, Henry,” Santa says. “And who did you bring along today?”
Henry points. “My mommy. Her name is JJ.”
Emily follows his gesture to the woman next to Maria. When the woman – JJ – realises Henry is pointing at her, a bright blush creeps up her neck and settles at the apples of her cheeks. She gives a little wave. Emily’s insides flutter at the sight, her lip quirking into an automatic smile.
(She has a type when it comes to women, and she is overtly aware this mom fits it to a T.)
“I see,” Santa says, humming lowly.
“We’re going to pick out a tree together, today” Henry tells him. He stretches his hand up into the air as high as he can get. “And it’s going to be this big. My uncle is going to come help carry it to our apartment.”
“That sounds like the perfect activity for a day like this one.” Santa nods his approval.
Henry grins at the approval, though it diminishes when he slowly drops his hand. He wiggles in his seat, eyes falling to stare resolutely at the floor. He worries his lip between his teeth.
Santa leans closer. “It looks like you might have a question. Was there anything you wanted to ask me? Or do you have a Christmas wish you’d like to share?”
Henry’s eyes widen in surprise at Santa’s observation and he nods vigorously. After one last glance at his mom, he beckons Santa to lean in even closer and proceeds to whisper his request loud enough for Emily to hear. “For Christmas this year I’d like Mommy to get a boyfriend or girlfriend!”
Santa does an excellent job muffling his surprised burst of laughter with a cough; Emily less so. She turns aside fractionally to mask her smile in her shoulder.
“A boyfriend or a girlfriend, huh?” Santa says, recovering with grace. “She didn’t specify which one?”
Henry shakes his head, his blond hair whipping in his face. “She is bi-se-xu-al.”
Now Santa’s face pulls into a confused frown, bushy white eyebrows migrating closer together. “She speaks two languages?”
Henry looks at Santa weirdly. “No?”
This is the first time all morning Emily has seen Santa truly struggling to continue the conversation and she decides to help him out of his misery. “Bisexual, not bilingual, Santa.” She can’t fully keep the laughter out of her voice, and by the resulting sparkle in Santa’s eyes, it’s noticeable.
Henry perks up, head flying around to Emily as he nods. “Yes!” He shifts so he sits on his knees, higher up and closer to Santa’s face. “Bi-se-xu-al. Mommy likes both boys and girls. And people. So, she might get a boyfriend, or she might get a girlfriend, or— or—“
He frowns as he thinks.
“A partner?” Emily supplies.
“Yes!” Henry nods again, smile back on his face. “But not all at the same time.”
He says it so surely and in such a way that Emily can’t help but think Henry’s mom has explained that last bit of information to him a few times over.
Santa nods solemnly. “I see. Thank you for explaining that to me, Henry. You’re never too old to learn something new.”
“I know,” Henry says, dead serious. “I’m only just four and I learn things all the time.”
“I bet you do,” Santa says.
“So… You’ll make sure I get my wish?” Henry asks. His voice has a hopeful lilt to it that tugs on all the right strings of Emily’s heart.
“Why do you think your mommy might want that wish for Christmas this year?” Santa asks, instead of making false promises or answering honestly and eliciting disappointment.
“She told Aunt Penny,” Henry says. His eyes flicker down nervously. “A few nights ago, when she thought I was sleeping.”
Santa chuckles. “Ah, I see.”
“Don’t tell her, please?” Henry pleads. “I was not being naughty, I just wanted to say hi to Aunt Penny when I heard her in the living room.”
“I won’t tell,” Santa promises. From the corner of her eye, Emily catches movement from Maria; a singular hand signal. Santa briefly glances at the big mall clock. “Well, I think it’s very kind that your Christmas wish is for your mommy. Is there something you’re wishing for yourself this year?”
Henry purses his lips and thinks hard for a second. “A scooter. Or else… Maybe dinosaurs?”
“Those sound like very fun wishes,” Santa says. Emily doesn’t think she’s imagining his relief at the normality of Henry’s own wish list. “Now, I believe you have a Christmas tree to pick out. How about we take a photo to remember today by?”
Henry agrees, rearranging himself so he’s sitting down on his bottom and grins an adorable grin at the camera. Emily steps out of the frame right before the shutter clicks, and automatically returns to help Henry down from his spot.
“Thank you, Santa!” Henry says. He waves and grabs Emily’s hand.
She walks him to the side of the platform, ready to transfer him to the other elf. But before she has the opportunity, Henry stops and pulls insistently on her arm until she gets down to his level.
“What is it, Henry?” Emily asks.
“I would like to get my wish for me this year, maybe, but can you make sure Mommy gets hers?”
Emily is melting. Right now. Melting into pure goo, like a marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate. (Look at her, immersing herself fully into her character). It’s such an adorable request, but it’s hard to think of an appropriate answer. And even worse, the second she hesitates, Henry deflates. His shoulders sag, his lower lip sticking out in a pout.
“We’ll try our best, buddy,” Emily finally says, figuring it’s at least not an outright lie. “But it’s harder with grownups sometimes.”
Life is harder for grownups, period – like one moment you’re working your way up the ranks of the CIA, and the next you’re dressed as an elf in a mall – but she can hardly tell a four-year-old that. She doesn’t want to spoil the magic for him, but she also doesn’t want to get his hopes up that he’ll find a partner for his mom under the tree on Christmas morning.
Henry thinks for a second, until he apparently decides that it’s an acceptable enough answer. “Okay,” he agrees. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for visiting today,” Emily says with a smile. She peeks past him to find his mom waiting for him down the steps, envelope in hand. “I think your mommy got the picture of you and Santa already. Do you want to go take a look?”
Henry brightens at that, nodding. This time he does allow Emily to lead him all the way to the steps, where she transfers him to the custody of her colleague for the day. She can’t help but watch as Henry hops down the stairs and rushes to wrap his arms around his mom’s legs in a tight hug.
The mom laughs, and a warmth blooms in Emily’s chest at the pretty sight. The kid’s mom is a true heartstopper.
And single, apparently.
“Emily?”
Emily whips her head around, clearing her throat when she finds Maria staring her down with an unimpressed look. Right, the next set of kids is up. Her eyes flicker to the bored parent standing behind the set of siblings.
She does a double-take. Is that—
Right! Her mark. The entire reason why she’s in this ridiculous costume doing this draining job today.
…How bad of an agent is she that she’d forgotten about that for a second?
Oh well, she just won’t include that detail in the mission debriefing.
Emily plasters a new smile on her face, hand dropping to her skirt pocket as she welcomes the kids and her mark up to the platform, going through the now-familiar motions.
She plants the bug without a hitch, then works for another hour before sneaking out during the hurried lunch break with a sorry! whispered out into the universe for poor Maria. She feels a little bad about ditching on her, but not nearly bad enough to voluntarily stay longer than she has to. Sue her.
Reeling from a busy morning, she slips through a personnel only door and finds an empty corridor where she can finally shed her costume.
A job well-done. A morning decently spent, all things considered. A ridiculous chapter of her CIA-initiation she can close off and stash far away in a corner of her mind.
It’s curious, though. For whatever reason, throughout her pick-up, debriefing and finally, her return home, some part of her brain keeps wandering back to the sight of the pretty blonde, her warm smile, and her son’s sweet wish.