#this is basically a Hallmark Christmas Movie in condensed form

[punkpoemprose]

December 5th- Secret Santa

Universe: Modern AU

Rating: G (General Audiences, fluff to the max)

Length: 5627 Words

A/N: It’s worth noting that I would probably get more pieces done if I kept my word count lower, but here we are. This lovely bit about volunteerism and falling in love proves, I think, that I have fully mastered the Hallmark Christmas movie formula. Thanks for being patient with me as I play catch up! Hopefully I’ll finish the rest of the fics I’ve started that were already supposed to be posted. Whoops!

The Bjorgman family was a large one, and it was no secret to anyone that their matriarch was always looking for “just one baby more” to join their ranks. It was how Kristoff had been adopted into the fold many years before, how his younger sisters and brothers, all adopted themselves, had come to be called as such. It was why every holiday was spent split between their family home and the small orphanage from which they all had been “found” by Bulda and Cliff.

The aged couple couldn’t really bring themselves to bring any new kids into the fold, but that didn’t stop them from finding ways to bring children into their family, and why Kristoff found himself lifting crates of apples off the back of his pickup truck, in the snow, to bring to the orphanage’s kitchens. Since his parents first realized they couldn’t have children themselves, since the day they found him eight years old with no family to call his own, they’d become the unofficial, official sunshine club for the children's home. They were forever coordinating donations, finding ways to organize events and trips for the kids, and Kristoff had grown up with the work being a part of him and a part of his life. Despite having been out from under his parent’s roof for three years, he never hesitated to find a way to help his family in their work to help the kids who weren’t so lucky as him and his younger siblings.

“Kristoff honey!” his mother yelled from one of the adjoining rooms as he dropped the final apple crate on the kitchen counter with the others. There were three more there, plenty enough for the amount of apple pies his mother planned to bake for their annual “desserts and dreams” program.

It was really just a party where the kids at the orphanage filled out their Christmas letters. It was a simple enough process, there was sugar and kids nervously writing usually very small requests on a piece of paper that they’d then hang on trees in local businesses and churches. Even people who couldn’t adopt a child could adopt their wishes for the holidays, and it was, generally something that they’d had great success with in the past.

Before his mother had stepped up, when he was still in the orphanage himself, there had been little celebration for the holidays. He still remembered the disappointment of no tree, no decorations but what he and the other children made themselves, and certainly the fact that there were no presents. But he remembered his first Christmas after being adopted clearer than that, he remembered how the whole house had seemed to glow with lights and tinsel and how he cried into his parent’s arms when he was given a present. It had been a lot to handle, and over the years he’d watched his younger siblings go through similar Christmas 180’s.

His parents hadn’t allowed another holiday without celebrating since for the kids in the orphanage. As they’d quickly learned their first year organizing the party, the year he’d turned 12, the community really did want to help give kids Christmas, they just didn’t know how. It had taken his mother and her fighting spirit to show them the way, and they hadn’t stopped since.

“Yeah Ma?” he shouted back, walking to the kitchen door to close it. It was flurrying out, and the last thing he needed was to hear about the puddles he’d caused by leaving the door open for a moment more than necessary.

“There’s a few new volunteers that need instruction. They just walked in, the rest of us are busy. Once you get the apples handled would you mind getting them on decorating?”

He huffed out a sigh, walking back through the kitchen, down the hallway and towards the room he assumed his mother was in. He wouldn’t tell her no. He couldn’t. Both because he really was unable to deny his mother any of her wishes, and because Bulda was not the type of woman who ever took “no” for an answer. Once she got something into her head, she was a woman on a mission until it got done. His father, Cliff, said that it was the whole reason they’d gotten married in the first place.

“She walked up to me in the middle of a football game and said ‘you’re gonna be my man’ and the rest is history”, was what he used to say. It was, truthfully, almost identical to the story of how he came to be their son. He still recalled her walking up to him, touching his cheek and saying “cutie, I’m gonna keep you”.  

He was decidedly not his mother’s son. He knew the irony of that well enough, but it was true. Bulda was outgoing as the day was long, and he was not. Working with people was not necessarily his strong suit, but he would admit to it, and he considered that something. Kids he was alright with, but other adults he preferred to avoid. It was also why when he wasn’t helping his mother, he did carpentry work. Of course he had to talk to people in order to determine what they needed done, but they rarely wanted to hold much of a conversation and that was good enough for him.

“Ah Ma,” he said as he walked into to room, seeing his mother toiling rather heroically over a desk piled high with envelopes and legers, “why don’t you let me handle the math for a little while, you know I’m not good with…”

“Pish posh!” his mother said, waving him off with a smile, “You know I have to run the numbers six times myself before I’m willing to let anyone else double check me, and that’s your father’s job. Go on, it’s just a couple regulars and a new girl, you’ll be fine.”

He gave serious thought to telling his mother that her definition of “fine” and his must be very different, but when he heard one of his younger sister’s calling out for help he thought better of it. They, as they always did, had their hands plenty full without his hemming and hawing about a simple task.

“Yeah, but tell me if you need more heavy lifting done, if I hear you and Dad lifted anything over three pounds I’m going to skip Christmas dinner.”

Bulda, for her part, feigned shock as he walked away. They both knew he wouldn’t dare.

***

“I’m umm…” the girl before him, Anna, was already the most difficult volunteer he’d ever worked with. Not that he thought that she was trying to be difficult, but it was clear to him that whatever she did, it was not usually volunteering at an orphanage’s pre-Christmas party. He had to admit though, that besides his family and the handful of recurring volunteers they’d trusted over the years, there probably weren’t many people that could say they volunteered at an orphanage’s pre-Christmas party.

“I’m pretty good at making paper snowflakes?” she offered.

It had been a simple enough question, he thought. He’d just told her that she was supposed to help make or hang decorations for the party, and had asked what she was good at. He hadn’t thought it was a difficult question, or an involved one. He’d really just meant to ask her whether she wanted to decorate or whether she wanted to make the decorations, but it hadn’t come out that way, and so he had a rather nervous, but very pretty redhead looking at him like she was on foreign soil.

“Okay,” he said, deciding that even if he wasn’t good with people, he could be polite at least for his mother’s sake. “There’s… uh, paper and scissors over at the table, I’m sure you can figure something out. Thanks.”

He did his best to kind of gesture to the table in question and back out of the room slowly to go find somewhere else to be, but she caught onto his sweater sleeve.

“You’re not going to…”

He wasn’t sure whether she meant “stay” or “help” or both. Under any normal circumstance he would say no and walk away, to go do something else helpful that wasn’t arts and crafts with a stranger, but this situation was far from normal to begin with, and she looked panicked. He really wasn’t certain as to why she was even there. She looked a little too old to be the usual college or high school kids they got for community service hours, and she looked too young to be one of the rich types from the nearby city who came for the photo-op. There was something in her eyes though, a determination mixed with her nervousness, and that’s why he sighed and, without giving her an answer, walked over to the table.

***

She was good at making snowflakes. Or at least she was much better at it than he was. Hers were delicate things that looked like they had fallen straight from the sky themselves, he had made sort of squarish abominations with chunks missing that looked more chewed out than cut. She was giving him an A for effort, but had a feeling that not even his mother could truthfully come up with a compliment for what he'd created. But Anna did.

"You're getting better everytime!" She said holding up his latest attempt, "It looks a lot more circular than the last couple!"

Despite the fact that she'd shown him three times how to cut the paper to end up with a snowflake instead of a snow brick, he was still managing to come up with a mess. He appreciated her patience though and despite his earlier reservations, he was finding her easy and even enjoyable to talk to.

"So what do you do for a living Anna?"

It seemed, again, a simple enough question, but when he saw her face go flush he thought that maybe he'd managed to offend her. 

"I uh... I'm unemployed at the moment. I just finished my degree in early childhood education though, so the goal is to teach."

He watched as she nervously ran her fingers over her braid, and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He had no idea how to talk to women, and while it seemed as if things had been going fine before he asked, he wasn't sure what he could do to make her more comfortable.

"That's great!" He said, trying to really show her that he meant it, "Volunteering with kids while you apply seems like a smart plan. My parents could write you a reference letter if you want."

She smiled shyly, "That would be nice, thank you. I'm just happy to help. I just really needed to do something that felt..."

She shrugged and looked to him for the word she was lacking.

"Meaningful?" He offered. It was the word he'd use to describe what he and his family did there. Rewarding and positive also came to mind, but at the end of the day, making something out of nothing for kids who barely had anything was one of the most important things he could think to do with his time.

She nodded and gave him a look of appreciation that he hadn't expected. She picked her scissors back up and went to work cutting another perfectly folded page.

"So do you work here?"

Kristoff shook his head. It felt like it most days really, especially during the holiday season when his mother and father seemingly had daily plans for the children housed there. Whether it was parties, organizing donations, crunching the budget to swing presents for children who hadn't received donations or taking nice photos of the children for various agencies to show perspective parents he almost always spent his evenings there. Oftentimes he showed up just to do a couple things and force his mother to go home. Some days she'd try to stay late into the night to get things done, and while he respected her greatly for it, she sometimes needed someone else to step in and make her rest. She often needed to be reminded that she couldn't save the world singlehandedly. 

"No, I'm a carpenter. I used to live here though, before..." he didn't know why he was telling her. Normally most of the volunteers knew him. He was "Cliff and Bukda's boy" to everyone in the community and they all knew that he was adopted. He certainly didn't look at all like his parents. But Anna wasn't from the area as far as he could surmise and she was perhaps one of the first people he'd ever needed to tell.

"Oh... I'm so..."

He waved her off before she could continue.

"Oh don't be, please. It's not a sore subject or anything. I was adopted when I was eight, and we've been coming back ever since to volunteer and help out the other kids. It's also how I acquired several siblings."

Her concern was sweet, but entirely unnecessary. As he glanced over to the opposite side of the room where his younger siblings were working with other volunteers to cover tables, put up decorations, and prepare papers and pens for letter writing Kristoff knew for a fact that he was one of the luckiest men alive. That he was talking to Anna and that they both seemed to be enjoying the he conversation despite it's awkward "getting to know you" was an unexpected addition to his luck.

She smiled at that and pulled apart her folding to reveal another perfectly cut snowflake. "That's really sweet you know. My family doesn't really..." She shook her head and he decided not to pry, "I'm glad you do this, and that I have the opportunity to help. It means a lot."

Kristoff grinned, "Well for the kids it means even more than you know. Thank you for coming to help out."

The soft way she reached over to touch his hand after setting down the snowflake was wholly unexpected, and it caused his heart to race in an unfamiliar way. He could feel his face warming.

“No, I mean… I’m sure it does, but I was trying to say, being able to do this means a lot for me. If that makes sense? Does that sound selfish? I’m not really…”

She trailed off and lifted her hand from his. He wasn’t really sure why he flipped his palm and caught her hand in his as she was drawing away. It was instinct, he just didn’t want her to think he thought she was selfish for feeling good about what they were doing. He thought that she was the type of person who should feel good about doing good things, he wanted her to feel good, and that was foreign.

“It does make sense,” he said looking her in the eye, secretly glad to see that he wasn’t the only one blushing. “I mean… this feels good, right?”

He was confused when he saw her eyes go wide and when she gave him a shy grin.

“It really does.”

***

Kristoff still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up catching an early dinner with her. They’d been talking, and then his mom had pulled him aside with the good news that someone had sponsored all the kids, plus some. An anonymous contribution marked “from Santa” which meant that every child would receive not just one gift, but a few. It was generous to say the least, and they hadn’t expected it.

When he’d returned to her, smiling, and feeling very good about the world, she’d mentioned needing to grab dinner before the party started and he’d said that they could go together. He had to ask himself whether it was a date. He hadn’t been on a date since high school, and that really didn’t count because it had just been once and then he’d never really seen the girl again other than in lunch. That had been all he needed to know that he was abysmally bad at dating, but now sitting across from Anna as she mowed through a burger, he really considered the idea that trying again might be worth it.

“So you’re not from around here?” he asked, knowing the answer. It was a small town, everyone knew everyone. She was new and other than the fact that he’d heard through the grapevine, AKA his mother, that she had moved into the old Arendelle place, a large empty manor house that had been in town for years, but uninhabited since before he’d been adopted.

“Well not really,” she said before poking a fry in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully, “My parents grew up here, and my sister and I lived here when I was a baby, but I don’t remember it. I was raised in the city.”

He nodded, “Must be a lot different there, I’ve only ever just driven through.”

She sighed, “Too different. Everything is so fast there…” she took another bite of her burger and with her mouth only slightly full, continued, “My sister likes it, but there’s things about the lifestyle there I’d rather… move away from? If that makes sense.”

It didn’t really make sense. He didn’t know enough about what she could be talking about for it to be making sense, but it didn’t really matter. He’d never been so interested in hearing someone speak, save for his family, and sometimes he didn’t even have an interest so much as he had a love for them that made it worthwhile.

“I can’t say I get it,” he said with a shrug, “but it is a lot slower out here, if you want to get away from something, this is the place to do it.”

She smiled, “I’m just excited to get a fresh start, you know? It’s nice to meet someone who’s so different from…” she trailed off, “Well my ex, I hope you don’t mind my brining it up, it’s just a big part of why I’m here now. I want to be a better person than who I was.”

He didn’t mind. He didn’t think there was anything she could say to him that he would mind hearing.

“I don’t think you can do that,” he said and nearly choked on his coke when he realized what he’d said versus what he’d meant.

“I mean!” he sputtered, “I don’t think you can be better because you already seem really great.”

She laughed. It was a beautiful sound, even when she snorted and covered her face with her hand.

“Well,” she said still laughing, “That’s sweet of you, but I’m afraid you don’t know me very well.”

“I’d like to.”

She grinned broadly, “I’d like that too.”

***

His sister, ten years younger than him and not even a quarter of his size, was pulling him down the hallway of the orphanage their parents had adopted them both from.

“Kris!” she said once they were far enough away from the main room where the kids were eating apple pie and writing their Christmas lists with the help of the volunteers, Anna included, and had his sister not stolen him away, the pair of them as well.

“What is it Jemma, we’re supposed to be helping the kids,” he gave what he hoped was a disapproving look, not that it ever affected any of his younger siblings. He might be the eldest, but he had no power over them. He tried to play tough, but at the end of the day they walked all over him like a doormat and he loved them too much to fight it.

“That girl you’ve been with all day, I know who she is.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, we all do. Her name is Anna, she just moved here, she’s going to start teaching preschool in town once Mrs. Hollis goes off on maternity leave.”

His sister looked at him like he was stupid, throwing in an eyeroll for good measure.

“No Kris, I mean I’ve seen her before, in a magazine.”

He snorted. “That gossip rag you like that Mom keeps threatening to toss out?”

She treated him with another eyeroll, and he wondered if he was half the sass she was when he was thirteen. Somehow, he seriously doubted it, but in his experience, all teens were difficult until they hit sixteen or seventeen and realized just how much they didn’t know yet. With a few exceptions, amongst which he liked to consider himself at that age, even if his mother and father might disagree.

“It’s not a…”

He shot her a look and she trailed off. Even she couldn’t deny that it was, in fact, a gossip rag.

“Fine. But shut up for a minute and listen to me. She’s an heiress. Her name is Anna Arendelle, her parents owned Arendelle industries and when they died it all went to her and her sister. No one knew much about them, but then she started dating this guy Hans Westergaard who comes from like a massive family of Hollywood agents and it became kind of a big deal because he was spotted out at parties and stuff cheating on her with other women but they were engaged and...”

He stopped her with a shake of his head, “Look Jem, I don’t know if you’ve got the right girl or not here, and even if you do, I don’t need to know her backstory, she’s just nice and she’s…”

She jumped in then, “No, you do need to know because she’s not ‘just nice’, she’s volunteers at an orphanage in the middle of nowhere and pay $100 per kid for Christmas presents nice. Also, she’s single.”

Kristoff did not like the thing that his sister was doing with her eyebrows, he also didn’t like that she was implying that he should have an interest in her that was financially motivated, but he supposed that at thirteen thinking that way was more normal.

He did his best to emulate her eyeroll and wrapped an arm around her, dragging her back down the hallway and into the fantastically decorated dining space where the party was in full swing. “Go help some kids write their letters Jem you little troublemaker and I won’t tell Mom that you snuck and found out the identity of an anonymous donor.” There was no malice in his tone, and they both knew he would do no such thing.

From across the room, Anna’s eyes met his and he couldn’t help but hold her gaze and smile.

He didn’t care that she was an heiress. He didn’t care that she had just gone through some kind of highly publicized breakup. It didn’t matter to him.

What mattered was that she was one of the only people he’d ever enjoyed talking to. What mattered was the smile she gave him from across the room and how much she’d enjoyed dinner with him, though his newfound knowledge did explain why after fighting over the check they’d gone Dutch. He didn’t care about what she had in a bank account. He cared about how the little boy sitting with her was giggling, and how when she looked at the boy and he told her something in return, he could hear her laughing too.

He crossed the room and was not particularly subtle about moving to help a child who was just a few seats from where Anna sat.

***

A couple weeks had passed, and another party was well on the horizon. This time, his mother had insisted that he and Anna finish wrapping the massive pile of toys and gifts that they’d been able to purchase with the “anonymous” donation they’d been grateful for.

Kristoff was fairly certain that only he and Jemma were really aware of who Santa was, but at the same time, he knew for a fact that his mother had set up her party plans to keep him and Anna together through the process.

So he’d helped her move some boxes into her house. So they’d gone out to dinner a couple more times since they met. He didn’t see what the big deal was given that he was just trying to be friendly. That he’d helped her fix a squeaky cupboard and thought he’d felt her eyes on his rear, and that he’d blushed furiously because he’d thought he’d felt her eyes on his rear meant nothing.

He suspected Jemma had said something to their mother about how good they looked together or something because his younger sister and mother had shoved them in a room, together, alone, for what was going to be a couple hours of work.

Anna, smiling as she wrapped, seemed to be unaware of their scheming at least.

“So I was thinking, one of the other volunteers told me that there’s a Christmas craft market in the next town over tomorrow, and you know there’s only a week until the big day and I have to find something unique for my sister and trust me, she’s the woman who has everything…”

Something he’d learned about Anna was that she was an over-explainer. When she had something to say, but was worried about how it would be received, she ran on about it for a while, trying to justify what she was saying, even if she only needed to justify it to herself.

“I’d like to go with you if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied, trying desperately to try to fix some of his crumpled wrapping to make it look even slightly attractive next to her flawless work. He thought that maybe he should only be tasked with things that could go in bags and perfect squares. Any other shapes and types of gifts were his holiday kryptonite.

She clapped her hands together and cheered, making him smile.

She plucked the gift from his hands, and he relinquished it gladly, relaxing as she masterfully straightened and primped the paper until the object resembled a gift instead of a wad of paper and tape.

“Good because I was hoping to get some things for the other volunteers and for your family and you know everyone better than I do.”

He laughed, “I think you give my social skills too much credit.”

It was sweet of her to think about getting everyone gifts. He was happy that she was starting, through their little menagerie of family and church ladies and local likeminded folk, to build some friendships in town. She was a nice girl, she deserved to have nice people around her. He still wasn’t sure if that really included him or not, but even if as she met people she was interested in him less and less, he was happy to have been one of the first people to welcome her into town.

“No, I don’t think I do,” she said with a grin, “People like you. Even if you don’t talk to them much, they really like you. The other volunteers have so many nice things to say.”

He shrugged. Most people had good things to say about his whole family. Cliff and Bulda were good people and they did their best to raise their children well. He supposed it made sense that he’d be included amongst someone’s praises of his family.

“But yeah, thank you for agreeing to come. I’ve been really enjoying spending time with you.”

He laughed at that, “That’s a new one.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “I’m serious, you’re fun to be around. You’re no strings attached and that’s nice. It’s…”

She waved her hand in the air as she searched for a word, finally landing on “refreshing.”

“Not so many blunt people in the city then?”

“No,” she said thoughtfully as she handed him a football, something neither of them were going to attempt to put in anything other than a bag. “They were blunt, but everyone always wanted something from you. They’d be blunt and rude and whatever else they thought they could get away with, but there was always an ulterior motive. They always just talked to me to get to my sister or I was a walking net worth. I wasn’t a person they wanted to get to know. I was a means to an end.”

He frowned when he heard the emotion in her voice. He was not good with crying girls, not even his sisters, so when he looked up at her and saw tears in her eyes he set the football down and scooted across the space on the floor between them and did his best to give her a comforting pat.

It just made her tears fall faster.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as she leaned into him. They’d only known each other a short while, but already he was desperately connected to her. He’d thought that if she left his life as quickly as she��d come that he would be fine, but it was a lie, and he knew it. He was already falling for her, and that in and of itself was completely new territory.

He wrapped his arm around her as she leaned, his hand tentatively falling on her back in a comforting gesture. They were surrounded on all sides by gifts and wrapping paper and sundry and it struck him as a strange place to cry, but he didn’t think that telling her as much would help, so he just held on to her tightly.

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” she said, “You should be proud. You’re so nice to me and you don’t even get anything out of it.”

He smiled then, “I think you’re selling yourself short now. I get plenty out of being nice to you. Like you being nice to me. I don’t really have people lining up to be my friend you know, just Sven, and he’s a dog so he has to like me.”

She laughed at that, a little snort that accompanied her tears.

“But still,” she said, “I’m used to people wanting money from me… do you even know that I’m…”

“Rich?” he asked, then quickly added, “Jemma’s into gossip rags, but I don’t really care what they have to say about you. I don’t want money from you or anything like that, I just think you’re a good person Anna. Though, I will admit when we figured out you were Santa it did make me smile. What you did was very generous.”

She grinned then, still with some tears on her cheeks. “Ho, ho, ho?”

He laughed at that and pulled her in to his side a little tighter.

When she leaned up, looking determined, and asked him a question, he was surprised.

“What if I want something from you?”

He gave her a curious look. Her eyes were still a little wet, she was flushed and looked a bit nervous.

He responded quickly, because he knew the answer, “If it was something, I could give you, I would. Honestly I’ve been trying to figure out what to get you for the holidays since y—”

He didn’t get to finish what he was saying because she was shifting around and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. A quick one, but one that made it obvious enough what she was getting at.

He came to the sudden and sweeping realization that all the times he had asked himself whether going out with her and doing something was a date, she must have been asking herself the same.

“I don’t want to be that girl who leaves a relationship and hops right into another, but I really like you a lot Kristoff,” she said, nervously overexplaining herself again in a way he thought was beginning to find endearing, “I just think that maybe this is worth giving a shot? I think that you like me too, and if not that’s okay I think we’re good friends, and I know we’re still getting to know each other and everything but I just really want to take a chance because—”

He took a chance then too, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. When her arms wrapped around him and she leaned into the kiss, he knew he had made the right choice.

Her lips were soft against his and when their noses bumped together the soft laugh she treated him to, caused him to melt. She was perfect, and he counted himself the luckiest man on Earth that his Ma had forced him to be social a couple weeks before.

When the kiss broke, his forehead rested gently against hers and one of her hands moved from his back to card through his hair gently.

“Did you do that because you wanted to? Or because of the mistletoe?”

Though she asked the question, her voice was so full of mirth that he knew she was teasing. However, when he looked up and saw that there was, indeed, mistletoe hanging above them, he knew he had his mother and sister to thank.

When Anna started laughing though, he knew he couldn’t be mad about their interference.

“I noticed it when we walked in. I picked the spot on purpose,” she said, continuing to giggle as she spoke, her fingers leaving his hair to press against her lips as she blushed, “I was hoping you’d do that.”

He grinned in return. “I’d happily do so again… if you want me to, that is.”

She didn’t waste anytime closing the gap between them, presents at their sides forgotten for later. He’d never been so glad for a new volunteer in his entire life.