The sleigh landed on the tarmac of The North Pole, with one person in the passenger seat that few expected — Befana, right next to Santana.

“Well, well, well,” said Krampus, taking off his headset, and walking up to the sleigh. “I guess you weren’t just bullshitting me over the comms. Hey, Befana.”

“Hey, Krampus,” said Befana shyly.

“The two of you probably have a lot to talk about,” said Krampus. “Santana, it’s a short jump to your office. I’ll handle things down here.”

“Thanks,” said Santana sincerely.

“Don’t think this means you don’t owe me one,” said Krampus, raising a brow. “Now, get out of here, you crazy kids.”

Santa pressed a series of buttons on his sleigh and loosened his grip on the reins that linked the reindeer together and to the sleigh. The sleigh shimmered as it transported somewhere close, but private — Santana’s office, where there was a roaring fire and a giant pile of warm cookies and a pitcher of warm milk waiting for them…with two mugs, of course.

“Frikkin’ Krampus,” said Befana, shaking her head. “Some things just don’t change.”

“Well…a lot’s changed since you’ve been gone,” said Santana. “Krampus ended up finding his fated mate, with that Christmas elf, Avery — the one who works at the bakery, down on The Wreath.”

“Bear Claw Bakery?” asked Befana. “How could I forget? Avery always made the best eggnog lattes.”

“Well, we’ll have to go there together sometime,” Santana blurted out.

“Together?” asked Befana, coming up behind Santana and putting her hand on his arm. “You mean…like as a date?”

“You could say that,” said Santana, clasping his hand on Befana’s hand before turning. “That is…if you’d give me a second chance.”

“Under one condition — no secrets,” said Befana.

“Well, if you have a condition, it’s only fair I get one too — please, please give me a chance to explain things, even if you suspect the worst,” said Santana.

“I will,” promised Befana. “I’m done running. Last night…that was the last time. I was just, so scared, Santana…scared that I’d have my heart broken again.”

“I told you — I’d never break your heart,” said Santana. “I made you that promise when we first started dating.”

“I guess you always kept that promise,” admitted Befana. “In the end, it was me that broke my own dang heart, by assuming, well, a lot of things. Plus, I…oh, it’s silly.”

“What?” asked Santana, holding Befana’s hand up to his face and rubbing the back of her soft hand against the scruff on his cheeks.

“I…look at Pandora, and I think about the life we could’ve had together,” said Befana, eyes welling. “I always wanted a child, and…and you were going to give me the most precious gift of all, and I frikkin’ blew it.”

“You know, she’s twenty-seven,” said Santana. “But…that doesn’t mean she’s too old for a mother, although maybe, you two could just start out being friends.”

“You think so?” asked Befana. “You think she could forgive me, for abandoning you two? For…for leaving? If I were in her shoes, there’s no way that I wouldn’t hate the woman that broke my daddy’s heart, the woman that had seemingly refused me, as a mere babe.”

“She’s the one who told me about the conversation you two had at the party,” said Santana. “She told me what I didn’t want to hear — that I’d royally fucked up by not telling you about her the second I picked that baby up in my arms. She’s the reason I knew I had to go out and make things right, Befana. I think that if she hated you, she wouldn’t have tried to get us back together.”

“I had no idea,” said Befana.

“It’s not anything I expected either,” said Santana. “But you know what they say about Pandora’s treasure chest — that one thing was always in there, and that thing was hope. She’s always been full of surprise, but this might be the best surprise she’s ever thrown my way. So, I’ll ask you one more time, Befana — do you want to go out with me?”

“One more time?” asked Befana.

“I asked you that all those years ago, didn’t I?” asked Santana.

“Well, then my answer remains the same — yes,” said Befana, eyes welling with tears.

“Oh, hon, don’t cry,” said Santana. “After all, you don’t want your milk to get salty.” Santana poured Befana a mug of milk.

Befana took the mug from Santana and realized it felt familiar. She looked at it. The cup was bright green, in the shape of a toad wearing a Christmas sweater!

“Santana…after all these years, you…” started Befana.

“Whatever,” said Santana. “It’s a cute mug.”

“You kept it?” asked Befana. “But why?”

“Did you ever throw out those sweaters I left at your place?” asked Santana.

“Well, uh…yeah,” admitted Befana shyly. “I kinda…had a bonfire with them…on a beach…”

“You what?” asked Santana. “Well, no matter — they were just genuine Fair Isle sweaters, that’s all. Just very comfortable, very expensive sweaters. That’s all.”

“Well, I always had the more fiery, impulsive temper, which got me — got us — into this mess to begin with,” said Befana. “That’s so weird.”

“What is?” asked Santana.

“Think about ‘us’ as, well…an ‘us’ again,” said Befana. “I never thought the day would come that we were…well, together again.”

“You never thought we’d fix things?” asked Santana. “To be fair — neither did I, but there was always this…”

“…Feeling? In the pit of your heart? That maybe, we’d…” started Befana.

“Yes,” said Santana. “That maybe, we’d made a mistake in breaking up at all.”

“Guess sometimes, you have to follow your heart,” said Befana, raising an eyebrow. “And right now…my heart’s leading me to those cookies.”

Befana reached out to grab her favorite cookie — cinnamon oatmeal cranberry — when her hand touched the hand of somebody reaching for the same damn cookie, a hand she hadn’t felt that way in years.

“How would you feel about taking the action somewhere more…comfortable?” asked Santana, taking Befana’s hand in his.

“You mean…” started Befana.

“Yes,” said Santana. “Is it too soon?”

“It’s not too soon,” said Befana. “But…are you sure I’m not too late?”

“Of course you aren’t,” said Santana. He scooped Befana up, moved her to the passenger seat of his big, wooden sleigh, and took control of his sleigh. For short ‘jumps,’ he didn’t need to use the reindeer, and he wasn’t planning on taking her very far at all.

Santana’s sleigh only traveled through space, but when the sleigh teleported to a familiar yet unfamiliar room, Befana felt like the sleigh was a time machine that had taken her back to the past. The room Santana had brought them to was one she could no longer call her own, and, in the place, there was a perfectly made bed — a bed they’d spent countless nights in.

Santana got out of the sleigh and took Befana by the hand, leading her out of the sleigh and into his bedroom. He clicked a button on the sleigh that would teleport it downstairs, into his garage, and then, turned back to watch Befana, who was looking at the room as if she were looking at it for the first time.

“So?” asked Santana. “What do you think?”

“It’s just like how I left it…but it’s different, at the same time,” admitted Befana. “You have new sheets, of course, but the bed, well, that bed’s the same. I remember that cuckoo clock.”

“Yes — we got it together in Bavaria, at the Christmas markets,” said Santana. “You know, I haven’t been back to those Christmas markets, ever since we…well, you know.”

“Funny,” said Befana with a chuckle. “I go to them every year.”

“You do?” asked Santana.

“Maybe part of me was hoping I’d chance to run into you there,” said Befana.

“Well, I’m right here,” said Santana, walking over to the bed. “Just like the bed. I didn’t go anywhere.”

“I know — and I did, and I’m — “ started Befana.

“You don’t have to say it,” said Santana.

“But I do,” said Befana. “Because I am, Santana — I’m sorry, for leaving, for…for not asking you what was going on, for not hearing out the truth.”

“I’m sorry I kept secrets,” said Santana. “I forget that for people like you, it’s different.”

“People like me?” asked Befana, quirking a brow.

“People who aren’t shifters, who don’t have a fated mate,” said Santana. “You’re my fated mate, but, I’m not yours — because you don’t have a shift, so you don’t have a mate mark. You could never understand that…well, there would be no way that I could ever betray your trust, Befana. There was no way I could ever be unfaithful to you.”

“That’s no excuse for my behavior,” said Befana, taking a seat next to Santana. “After all…you’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?” asked Santana.

“Of course you’re wrong,” said Befana with a laugh. “You shifters call it having a ‘fated mate’ but so many people fall in love, people that aren’t shifters, and they don’t need Fate to tell them they’re meant to be with someone.”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Santana softly.

“I…I love you, Santana,” said Befana, turning away. “I never stopped. I always wondered why you’d stopped loving me, why you’d chosen someone else, and…well, I thought it best to keep my distance, for my sake, and to give your new family privacy and peace.”

“Babe, if it’s upsetting you, we don’t have to talk about it,” said Santana, rubbing a tear off of Befana’s cheek.

“Wait,” said Befana. “I just…I want to have the air cleared, one hundred percent. We keep forgetting to talk, Santana — forgetting to just put the whole truth out there, for both of us to hear. We keep just falling in each other’s arms, instead of mending our hearts. Can we talk, about…everything?”

“Of course,” said Santana. Santana walked over to his armchair. Befana’s familiar armchair was still in the room. She took her seat.

“Well…I guess we should start with the beginning,” said Befana. “What do you know already?”

“I know that you left because you saw Pandora, and you thought the worst,” said Santana. “Pandora told me that, and…I’d rather hear your side of the story, straight from the witch’s mouth.”

“I woke up on Christmas Day because I heard a baby crying. I was confused, and at first, I thought maybe one of my toads had been hexed into a cat or something. I went to find the source of the sound,” explained Befana. “I tip-toed through the house — after all, if there was a crying baby, I didn’t want to disturb it. I found you, looking into a bassinet, where there was a baby — and the baby looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back. I remember that very well. Then, I realized it was really weird that you had a baby. There were no other adults around. That was what made it odd to me — a baby in your house, well, that’s one thing. After all, plenty of Christmas elves have kids, that’s sort of where Christmas elves come from. But you, alone, with a baby in your house? Now that…that was weird.”

“And?” asked Santana.

“And then, I saw you put the baby in a bassinet and roll it away! I was livid,” said Befana. “I was sure that this child had to have been yours. I saw the way you looked at the baby — with a father’s love — and I knew that baby was yours. Given the baby looked to be not much older than a newborn, I did the math in my head. You must’ve cheated on me, gotten someone pregnant, and now, the baby was in your custody…and probably, you were going to have a hard conversation with me about how I was being replaced, about how this other woman and your child with her were your new priority.”

“But you’re my fated mate — why would I ever have that conversation with you?” asked Santana.

“The house was empty and quiet — a first for the Claus household. The atmosphere was somber, and your actions, secretive. I’d never seen the house that way on Christmas Day, so I thought the reason you didn’t have company was that you wanted privacy — so that you could break up with me,” explained Befana. “I didn’t want to have that conversation — and I didn’t want to have an easy conversation either, the kind that wouldn’t trick me into thinking it was my fault you cheated on me, but, the kind that would assure me that it wasn’t my fault — that this was just Fate. I could never figure out what the truth was — was I not enough for you, or was I never Fated to be with you? Were those just two explanations of the same damn truth? I never knew — and not a day went by where I didn’t wonder.”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” said Santana, shaking his head. “I went about everything all wrong.”

“Pandora told me ‘the truth,’ but…that’s her truth,” said Befana. “I’m not saying she’s a liar — I’m saying that, like you, I need to hear your truth, Santana. From the beginning.”

“It’s simple, and at the same time, this simple story complicated everything,” sighed Santana. “I was doing deliveries, as usual, on The Ride…and of course, the reindeer needed to take a break and have some water. I stopped at a lake in China so my reindeer could drink up, and that’s when I heard it — a woman’s screams. I engaged my stealthing magic and went to the source of the cries, but that’s when I realized the woman wasn’t exactly…in trouble. She was giving birth, by the side of the lake, with her two friends.”

“In the middle of the woods? In the dirt?” asked Befana.

“I thought that maybe, it was merely a matter of convenience. When you gotta go, you gotta go. I’d assume the same applies to birth. The birth happened quickly. The woman took her baby and…well, left it by the lake, and left. I don’t know why, but, obviously, the baby wasn’t wanted,” admitted Santana. “Before the baby could even roll one toe into the lake, I grabbed the babe and hopped into my sleigh and flew back home to drop it off in the medical ward, to make sure there was some chance at giving that baby a life. The Ride had to go on, so while the baby was being taken care of, I went back to delivering presents, but one thought was on my mind. I’d delivered that baby to The North Pole, but how would I deliver that baby…to you?”

“You saved that baby? You saved Pandora?” asked Befana.

“Well, I know you would’ve done the same thing, and that’s why I knew we had to keep her,” explained Santana. “I had a name picked out for her and everything — and, the same way I’d known you’d agree with me adopting her, I knew you’d love the name. Pandora. She was full of surprises from the start, and the first surprise was the fact that she was in perfect health, despite the conditions of her birth. You were back home, fast asleep already, drooling in your armchair.”

“I didn’t drool,” insisted Befana. “I don’t drool.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Santana with a chuckle. “Krampus had helped me get all the baby stuff into the nursery — that spare room we had downstairs, that we always said we’d turn into your broom closet — and I swear, Pandora’s cries didn’t wake you up, not for a second. Krampus got the baby settled while I carried you to bed, and, after I made sure the baby monitor was set up, and I’d called off the Christmas party — so we could have a private Christmas together, as a new family, I went to bed too. I woke up that morning when Pandora needed a changing.”

“Why?” asked Befana.

“Because babies cry when they need changing!” said Santana. “They’re like presents — they can’t wrap and unwrap themselves, you know. And, I didn’t want your present to come wrapped in a dirty diaper! I grabbed the baby monitor, went downstairs and quickly changed Pandora, in the living room, the room with the best airflow in the house, so that she wouldn’t stink up her own nursery, and then, put her away. When I went upstairs to wake you up so that you could come see your Christmas present…”

“…I was already gone,” whispered Befana. “I was such a fool.”

“I was the one who didn’t think to tell you I had a surprise baby for us to raise,” insisted Santana. “What kind of fool turns a baby into a secret baby?”

“We’re both fools,” admitted Befana. “But, you know what we aren’t?”

“What?” asked Santana, rolling a lock of Befana’s curly hair in his hands before pushing it behind her ear.

“We’re not too late,” said Befana, pulling Santana close to press her lips against his.

Santana looked over Befana. She was wearing an outfit that was a lot like the one she’d worn, all those years ago, the night before she’d left. She was wearing a plaid, knee-length wool skirt that hugged her thick thighs. Underneath that, she had on a pair of forest green tights, warm ones. She had on a thick Christmas sweater, made of red and grey yarn, that hugged her ample curves. Santana stripped off the sweater first. Befana’s curves fell out of the sweater, which had hidden them and held them tight at the same time. Her bosom bounced as it was freed from its wooly prison.

“There you go,” said Santana. “Much more comfortable, I assume.”

“Of course it is,” said Befana, taking off the waffle-knit long-sleeved top. “After all…why would I want to wear a thick sweater to bed? Especially when there’s a big, strong shifter around to keep me warm.”

Santana started to undo his outfit. Unlike the other shifts on his time, he didn’t wear a black tactical suit on The Ride. Classics didn’t need to get changed — much.

“Let me,” insisted Befana. Santana put his palms down on the bed and turned to face Befana. Befana unzipped the red velvet track jacket. As the zipper came down, Santana was left wearing a plain white undershirt, musky with the scent of a hard night’s work. Befana gripped the bottom of the shirt and pulled it up.

“No,” said Santana. “Like this.”

Santana slipped his wrists out of the tracksuit jacket which pooled around his hips. He reached up, leaned back, and grabbed the back of the neck of his shirt, and pulled it off in one sweep, exposing swaths of rock-hard flesh.

“Well? What do you think?” asked Santana.

“I think I’m about to have a very Merry Christmas,” said Befana, rubbing Santana’s chest. “And…it looks like I got all six things I had on my Christmas list.”

“Six things?” asked Santana.

“One,” said Befana, running her finger over the top of Santana’s abs, around his upper left ab, which glistened in the low flickering candlelight of Santana’s bedroom — a bedroom she’d once called her own. “Two…” She ran her hand over that ab’s twin.

Befana had a reverse harem of muscles to play with that night. She moved down and continued her counting. “Three, four,” she whispered, moving down to the last row. “Five…and six.”

“What about lucky number seven?” asked Santana.

“I didn’t think that far ahead,” said Befana with a frown.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that Santa Claus has a special present to you — for being so damn Naughty,” said Santana, moving Befana’s hand to his crotch and flexing his cock beneath her hold.

“Well, of course, I expected to get that,” said Befana with a mischievous wink. “You remember our old Christmas traditions, don’t you?”

“How could I ever forget?” growled Santana. “My damn shift won’t let me.”

“If memory serves, you just love stuffing my stocking on Christmas Eve,” whispered Befana, sending Santana’s hackles on edge. “Now…are you gonna give me your candy cane and nuts?”

“That depends — have you been Naughty…or have you been Nice?” asked Santana.

“You know, I think tradition dictates I should be sitting on your lap when you ask me that question,” sassed Befana.

“Well then — we wouldn’t want to break tradition,” growled Santana. Santana lifted Befana up off the bed.

His mate was curvy, but he could handle that easily, picking Befana up off the bed and laying her back down on the bed as if she were as light as Christmas present. What he couldn’t handle were the leggings she was wearing underneath her skirt. Santana reached between Befana’s legs and felt her wetness as he snaked his hand past her butt, to the small of her back. Befana’s back didn’t have a big set of ass antlers, but what it did have was the waistband to her leggings. Santana pulled the waistband back, then down, then forward, and shimmied them off of Befana’s legs. When they were off, Santana wasted no time in slipping Befana’s thick, wooly socks off.

“Nice stockings,” said Santana. “They’d look better on my mantle.”

“When I said I wanted you to stuff my stocking, I wasn’t talking about my stinky socks,” said Befana.

Without a word, Santana pulled away from Befana. At first, Befana was worried she’d insulted Santana, and then, she watched as his hands went to his red velvet track pants. He lowered them all the way to the ground. Underneath his track pants, he was wearing a pair of goofy Christmas boxers. This year, the lucky pair had a simple pattern on it — a series of red triangles, the tops and bottoms striped in white.

“Cherry flavored candy corn?” asked Befana with a frown, running her hand over the front of the boxers.

“Santa hats,” said Santana. “Seems I’m going to have to jog your memory.”

“As long as there’s no actual jogging involved, I’m down,” said Befana. “But, uh…can I make a weird request?”

“For you — anything,” said Santana. “You want me to put on some leather pants and be ‘Leather Daddy Santa’ again?”

“No,” said Befana. “I want something more…classic. Like our first night.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” challenged Santana.

“Deal,” said Befana, patting her head. Out of nowhere, her witch’s hat, black and pointed and well-worn, with a purple ribbon ‘round the bottom of the cone, appeared on her head.

“Fuck, you make that look adorable,” said Santana.

“Now you,” said Befana, pushing Santana away with one finger. She stood to slip out of her skirt. She was fully nude, except for her hat.

“It looks so goofy,” said Santana, blushing as bright a red as his hat. “Makes me wish I picked a better-looking lucky hat back in the day, instead of my frikkin’ nightcap.”

“Yeah, yeah — but we made a deal,” teased Befana. Santana patted his head and, on top of his head, a red hat, made of velvet, lined in white fur, with a white pom-pom at the end, appeared.

Santana quickly grabbed Befana by the waist and twirled her in the air before sitting her down so that she was right on his lap, her thick thighs straddling his waist. Santana took a few minutes to appreciate Befana’s form in the low lights of the bedroom. He hadn’t held her like this in so long — held her tenderly, the way that he’d held her pretty much every night since they’d met, before that morning she’d left. What they’d done before, in his office, wasn’t wrong…but they’d gone about it the wrong way.

He wasn’t about to make another mistake with Befana. He couldn’t afford to — for the sake of his heart, and the sake of hers.

“What is it?” asked Befana.

“Well…you said you wanted to be on my lap,” said Santana. “So, hon — what is it you want for Christmas?”

“You,” said Befana, reaching down to touch Santana’s shaft, palming the head and feeling its slickness and its warmth ‘neath her touch. Santana kissed Befana on the forehead and lifted her up so that he could enter her familiar canals, gripping her ass in his strong, firm hands.

Befana bit her lower lip and let go of it as she let out a yelp. Santana hadn’t just entered her with his cock. He’d slipped one of his hands forward, to press against her nub. Upon hearing her let out her small mewls, Santana whipped his fingers against her clit again, and Befana let out another gasp. She’d been holding onto Santana’s waist with her legs, helping balance them on the side of his bed as he fucked her, but, if he was going to do her that dirty, there was no way her body would be able to keep a hold on Santana’s firm body.

Befana’s grip on Santana’s body loosened, but luckily, Santana had one hand on Befana’s soft, curved back. He took one of her breasts in his other hand and held it up so he could flick his tongue over the nipple. Santana moved his other hand, the hand that was on Befana’s back to Befana’s front so he could cup all sides of her ample bosom at the same time — but, as Befana was a BBW, that didn’t prove to be an easy task. Befana had more bosom than Santana had room in his cupped hands — and Santana had big frikkin’ hands. He scooped her flesh up into his hands, and whenever he greedily reached to gain hold of more of her curves, some of her curves spilled out of his hands.

Befana hadn’t been appreciated like that in too long of a while. Befana arched her back too quickly and, before Santana could react, her body started to fall to the floor! She’d leaned too far back, and had misjudged her center of gravity. Her legs had turned to jelly, so nothing was binding her to Santana.

Befana felt herself going down, fast — and not in the ‘quick blowjob’ sense of the term. She quickly snapped her fingers and stopped falling.

While Befana’s flesh had become too weak to hold onto Santana, her magic was still strong. Before Befana could fall to the floor, she was suspended in midair by her own magic. Her hair glowed with green and red magical power, the ribbons of magic forming a root-like system that propped Befana up. Slowly, Befana was pushed up by her own magic, until her soft, thick curves were nestled back in Santana’s strong, firm arms.

“Oh, fuck,” moaned Befana. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…well, I’m out of practice. You’re going to turn my legs to jelly, and I’m going to fall butt-first on the frikkin’ rug.”

“Say no more,” said Santana, sliding out of Befana’s warmth and picking his mate up again. He positioned her so that she was on all fours, on the bed. He slipped into her from behind.

“Gosh, Santana…hasn’t anyone ever told you to leave your work at the office?” asked Befana, turning to face the man who was busy giving her a Merry Christmas.

“What do you mean?” asked Santana, moving his hands up and over Befana’s thick, ample curves, savoring the feel of her tender flesh moving below his fingertips.

“I mean you already did a lot of ‘riding’ tonight, didn’t you?” asked Befana.

“What can I say? I’m nothing if not professional,” said Santana, sliding deep into Befana and hitting her spot.

“Oh, Santana,” moaned Befana, gripping the flannel sheets tightly.

“That’s right — say my name,” ordered Santana, slapping Befana right on her thick ass, leaving a bright red handprint. “You’re so damn wet, Befana.”

“Have you known me to be any other way around you?” asked Befana, turning to face Santana.

“‘Course not,” admitted Santana. “Too bad you’re not a shifter.”

“Why?” asked Befana.

“Because if you were, you would’ve scented out my arousal when I walked up to you,” said Santana.

“Which time?” asked Befana. “At the restaurant in New York…or at your party?”

“Yes,” said Santana.

“Yes to what?” asked Befana, confused.

“Yes to both,” said Santana. “There’s something about you…something that made me want to take you, right then and there, in that restaurant, on that table…and when we were alone in my office, well, I couldn’t resist.”

“That’s not because I’m special,” said Befana with a laugh.

“But you are,” insisted Santana.

“No — what we have, for each other, well, it’s special to us,” said Befana. “Because…to tell you the truth…well, I wanted you too.”

“I know,” growled Santana. “I could scent it on you.”

“And I could tell you wanted me too,” said Befana.

“With witchcraft?” asked Santana.

“With my eyes,” said Befana. “You never were ‘discreet’ about your desires.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Santana.

“You know what they say about men with big feet — big socks,” joked Befana. “Well, men with big cocks…they’ve got big boners, and those are hard to hide.”

“I think I found a place to hide mine,” said Santana, flexing his cock inside Befana.

“Oh, do that again,” said Befana. “Fuck!”

Santana kept flexing his cock inside of Befana, thrusting in and out of her as he flexed back and forth, up and down, twisting his cock in circles inside of Befana, putting the word ‘screw’ in ‘screwing.’

Befana couldn’t hold back, and she wasn’t even going to try. She knew what she needed — the same thing Santana needed — and that was a release.

As Befana and Santana came, Santana pulled Befana close. He’d lost her once. Now, there was no way he’d ever let her out of his warm embrace again.

Okay — there would be times where he’d need to let her go, like when she needed to get up, shower, drink hot cocoa and sugar cookies, go flying with her friends on her broomstick, do ‘witch stuff’ whatever that entailed, and a bunch of other shit…

…but metaphorically speaking, his love would always keep her warm, like a warm Christmas sweater.

Santana pulled out of Befana as her pulsations came to a standstill. Befana lay back on the bed as Santana rolled around to lay next to her, thoroughly tangling himself in the sheets while doing so, as he was very much out of practice.

“Hey, Befana?” asked Santana, brushing Befana’s hair out of her face.

“What?” asked Befana with a yawn.

“Merry Christmas,” said Santana.

“Merry Christmas, Santana. As is tradition, I’m exhausted,” said Befana, stretching out on the bed. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one evening.”

“You think you’re tired?” asked Santana. “I had to fight a goddamn reindeer tonight.”

“It’s not a compet—” started Befana, but her word was interrupted by a yawn.

“I guess if it were one, you’d win,” admitted Santana. “Go to bed, hon. After all, Christmas Day can be just as hectic as Christmas Eve…and you’re definitely going to have a lot of presents to open tomorrow.”

Santana felt something wet on his chest. He looked down. Befana had conked out entirely, and she was already asleep, right on his chest, drooling — a habit that had annoyed him to no end when she’d been dating him, and a habit he’d missed once she’d left.

For the first time in far too long, Befana fell asleep in the bed she’d shared with Santana all those years ago, a bed she’d share with him for many years, and many Christmases, to come.