Chapter Text
When Kirishima, the head elf of the action figure department, approached Izuku with a new addition to his contract as Santa, Izuku could tell he only did it with extreme reluctance—and probably because he’d pulled the short stick among the other managers.
Now, Izuku’s hands is a little business card, very similar to the last.
“The Missus Clause,” he repeats, slow and confused.
“Yeah,” Kirishima gives a quick nod. “I know it’s a lot, but we figured now would be the best time to tell you—a few years to get used to running the North Pole, and, uh, then some to find a wife.”
“A wife,” Izuku says, and pulls at the end of his curls in thought—and some frustration, or concern, panic—some kind of icky feeling they never saw much of at the North Pole. “Well—”
“Is there a problem, Deku, sir?”
“Well, it’s just—” Izuku thinks back to the crushes he’s had in the past—few and far between, nonexistent since taking over for his father as Santa. He tugs at his curls again—they used to be some dark color, like his eyes, until Christmas Magic did its thing and everything became green, pine green. “I like women, they’re very pretty. I just have a preference towards, uh, not women. I mean, I like both, but—this is kind of limiting, don’t you think?”
“Um—” Kirishima looks off to the side, awkward, almost certainly thinking of his own pretty wife. “I guess so, yeah.”
“I only have, like, a year to meet and marry someone, right?” Izuku gestures with the shiny, almost twinkling card in his hand. “And this already halves my dating pool. I guess I’m just confused about why Santa has to be married at all, you know?”
“In the past, other Santas have said that having a—a partner helps with their energy levels. Which could be about emotional support, but—” Kirishima scratches at the back of his head, unsure and only hedging his best guess. “I say because it’s written in, there has to be something to it about the Magic. I don’t know. I’m sorry, sir.” He finishes, disappointment laced in his voice.
“It’s fine,” Izuku sighs. Then, he tries for a jolly ol’ smile and waves the glossy card in his hand. “Guess I better get to work, then.”
“I believe in you, Deku!” Kirishima perks up immediately and gives Izuku a good-natured clap on his shoulder. “You’re a catch!”
“—‘The terms of this contract rest on the current acting Santa’—you—’finding and wedding a person who completes their spirit within the first five years of service, unless, of course, they are already wed.’” Jirou reads, sat, unassuming, in Izuku’s office on an ornate, wooden chair. Around her, Uraraka, Mina, and Hagakure crowd, with Tsu a respectful distance away, standing at Izuku’s side.
“But, see, it doesn’t specify gender,” Mina nearly shouts. “It’s probably just called the Missus Clause for some dumb reason.”
“You know,” Jirou says. “Many of these contracts used to be restrictive on gender, at least in their wording. I think they updated most of them when Nana Shimura served as Santa in ‘89. She did a better job as Santa than her husband, so the Magic only recognized her.” She passes the card back across the desk, to Izuku. “Even if it is called the Missus Clause, I doubt the wording of the contract actually determines how Christmas Magic will work. It really should be called the Soulmate Clause.”
“Okay,” Izuku says slowly. “So it’s less about finding anyone, and more about finding the right one.”
“How do you even know all of this stuff, Jirou?” Mina asks, clearly put-out that her discovery was so readily overshadowed.
“Oh, well—” The start of a blush starts to color her cheeks. “Yaomomo and I read old books together, sometimes.”
“Ooh,” Mina raises a brow. “Do you read by the fireplace? Maybe a bit of ‘hot chocolate and chill’?”
“Sh-shut up, Mina!” Jirou grabs the closest thing to her, which happens to be this year's tentative toy catalogue, and throws it at his face. “Anyways! Not a lot of elves really wrote about it, because the contracts aren’t really our business, but the wife-rule disappeared once Nana started wearing the suit.”
“I remember.” Tsu nods. “It used to say that Santa should marry a ‘woman of his choosing.’”
“It’s still so weird they had it like that, though.” Uraraka shakes her head, and casts a sympathetic look over to Izuku. “Elves have always dated whoever, I don’t see why we’d have different rules for Santa.”
“I know,” Hagakure says from over Uraraka’s shoulder, before gasping. “Have you heard? Mirio and Tamaki are getting a kid! A little girl!”
“Yes,” Jirou says, only a little bit tired of hearing about it again. New elves are rare, and when they do come around, everyone loses their collective minds. “It’s all anyone can talk about.”
“Okay,” Hagakure allows, “But did you hear that Mother Nature is going to make her from the stars? Her hair is going to be like tinsel.” She lets out a dreamy sigh. “God, I’m so jealous!”
“Anyways, Deku,” Tsu says, ever the calm one, resting one big, comforting hand on his shoulder. “This is good news. We just need to get you set up on a few dates, and Christmas Magic will do the rest, I think.”
“I just wish someone would’ve told me sooner,” Izuku slumps forward in his seat, one arm propping him miserably up on his desk.
“I’m sorry we didn’t say anything,” Uraraka hangs her head.
“I think everyone forgot to,” Mina says. “No offense, but most Santas don’t serve for more than twenty years. For an elf, that all kind of...”
“Blends together,” Hagakure finishes.
“And All Might was already married when he took over,” Jirou says. Most Santas receive some kind of nickname from the elves when they start work—full names deemed too impersonal, first names too intimate, and the title ‘Santa’ too formal and usually reserved for The Day. Saint Nick, or Nicholas, started the habit, and Deku is only the latest in a long tradition. In a way, Izuku thinks the elves at the North Pole share a lot in common with fae, complete with whisking him away from any human life he could’ve had. “Most Santas are, when they start.”
“I wouldn’t worry, though,” Tsu says, echoing Kirishima’s cheer from earlier. “You’ll have no trouble getting someone to marry you, I know it.”
“Most humans date for years before proposing,” Izuku groans. “And if I can’t charm someone within the year, Christmas, what, doesn’t happen? Humans don’t just marry strangers, especially not anymore.” Who would give up their daily life, their human life, just to marry Izuku? Would Izuku even want someone to do that for him?
“Well...” Jirou starts, gingerly. “We’ve never had someone... not fulfill the terms of the contract, before.”
So it seems that, like Kirishima, no one knows what to say. He remembers when the Christmas Magic started to leave his father—after 35 years working as Santa without incident, a record length, his jolly-form started to deflate in July. He’d made it to that next Christmas Day, but only barely. By design, Izuku took over and became Deku, and All Might went back to being Toshinori—no less cheerful, but a skeleton of his former self. It scared Izuku, seeing how much the job took and took from his father, how the Magic that coursed through him for years ended up stripping away his strength, but at the end of it all, the happiness of millions of children outweighed any concerns he had about taking over as Santa.
Both of his parents still live at the North Pole, but Izuku manages most of it now. They content themselves with answering letters and trying to find ways to bring Christmas spirit back to even the most cynical of adults, and Toshi jokes that he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about slipping off of roofs anymore; Izuku gets a new rope and harness every year for this exact reason
He’d think to dispute the Missus Clause with the Council of Legendary Figures, but even Izuku knows that, at the end of the day, there’s little anyone can do to resist the whims of Christmas Magic—better people than him have tried.
“I mean,” Uraraka says, voice slow and small and hopeful. “Maybe it’s someone you already know—someone who’s been around this whole time.”
After a beat of silence, Jirou speaks. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a stranger!” Then, she snatches the card back up. “‘A person who completes your spirit’—it doesn’t specify race, either. A person—someone sentient, but not necessarily human.”
“Yeah!” Uraraka chimes in agreement.
“So,” Mina’s brows knit. “One of us? An elf? The age difference might be weird.”
“Oh, shush,” Uraraka bats her on the shoulder. “After 150 years, all elves are pretty much the same. Like when a human turns—” She looks up at Izuku, quizzical. “Twenty? Twenty-five?”
“Uh—” Izuku looks back at her, lost.
“By that logic,” Mina raises a brow, “You’ve barely just stopped being a teenager.”
“So?” Uraraka flushes. “Deku’s only a bit older, and he makes a great Santa!”
“Well, if that’s how Uraraka feels,” Hagakure says, knowingly. “Then she probably wouldn’t mind being the first one to take Deku out on a date. Right?”
“I—” Uraraka’s pink cheeks glow an even brighter red. “Of course I wouldn’t mind!”
Izuku can hear Tsu sigh above him. Mina and Hagakure just look like they’re having the time of their lives.
“Deku?” Jirou asks. “What about you?”
“Oh, uh—I wouldn’t mind.” Izuku says finally. “Sure.”
The date goes... badly.
To escape prying eyes, he brings her up top—which was probably his first mistake, given the biting cold. Uraraka asks for his coat, which he gracefully gives her. They take a walk through the Candy Cane forest—which was his second mistake, since after Christmas Day, the hibernating mammals of the North Pole begin to wake. They then spend half an hour getting chased by a vicious Bumble. On the elevator ride back to the safety of North Pole City, Uraraka tells him how brave he is, how that well-aimed snowball really saved their skins, as she leans her head against his shoulder. Izuku worries, inwardly, about the dark color his fingers are turning; outwardly, he thanks her and resists the urge to push her off of him.
Because of the harsh conditions at the North Pole, increasing in intensity over the past century or two, most of the operations and living spaces lie beneath the surface. This also means that, at North Pole City, privacy is rare, gossip travels fast, and few people bother hiding their intentions. And while Izuku doesn’t mind holding hands with Uraraka—they’ve held hands plenty of times before, with elves so free in their affection and Izuku and Uraraka growing up as playmates—having everyone watch and titter over the proceedings makes Izuku wish he could melt himself into a lollipop; it makes him wish, desperately, that he felt any kind of spark.
They end up, finally, at the Peppermint Cafe. This, at least, seems like a good idea, both because he knows she loves sweets—what kind of elf doesn’t?—and because he can detach himself from her side to sit across from her instead.
“You know, Deku,” Uraraka says, immediately reaching back across the table for his hand. “You can call me Ochako, if you want to.”
Izuku feels heat rush to his face, and he can swear Mina and Hagakure across the way, unsubtly watching over their menus, gasp. Izuku knows that elves are weird about names, but their reaction to ‘first name basis’ sends Izuku’s heart-rate into high-gear.
“Oh, uh—” Izuku says, turning back to Uraraka. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah!” She chirps, only pulling away to hand the waiter her menu and request a bowl of sweet mochi balls. “I mean, we’ve known each other for so long!”
“Yeah,” Izuku laughs, discomfort coloring his voice. “Since I was a toddler, right?”
“Uh huh,” She hums her agreement. “I hadn’t even finished elf-school yet.”
He knows about elf-school. It’s a strict program; he, too, was instructed by the same elves who trained up the next generation of toymakers, but they’d only taught him to read, write, how to handle accounts and weather maps—all very practical stuff—with the reasoning that his lifespan was just too short to become a master toymaker. Besides, everyone knew he’d take over for All Might the day Christmas Magic thought they were ready.
“I’ve been thinking,” He starts, “About the contract.”
“Yeah?” Uraraka perks up. “The Missus Clause?”
“Jirou said that it would probably make more sense to call it the Soulmate Clause—”
“The Soulmate Clause,” Uraraka amends. “Okay. What about it?”
“Well, if the goal is to find the right person to share this Magic with—wouldn’t it be obvious who it is?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, if I’ve already known them for a long time. Wouldn’t I—” Izuku worries at his lip, trying to find the right words. He feels like he’s smashing glass ornaments, trying to let her down easily, like this. “Wouldn’t I know?”
“Oh,” She says. Not even the mochi placed in front of her brings her back up to her previous energy. “I mean, we don’t really know how it works.” She pokes despondently at a mochi ball, before looking back up with a flash of hope in her eyes. “Maybe it’s a first-kiss thing, like in those fairytales, and those Disney movies.”
“Oh,” He parrots back. He hadn’t thought of that. How many people would he have to kiss, then, before he knew? This was beginning to sound less like The Frog Prince and more like Princess and the Pea.
“Remember those?” She asks, biting into one mochi ball and letting out a pleased hum. “We used to watch so many movies together, to learn about human culture.”
“Yeah,” He says; when she nudges the bowl towards him, he grabs a mochi of his own and bites in. They spend the rest of the meal like that, making idle conversation and probably getting a cavity or two.
Later, outside of her door—made, literally, of dried out grapevines and decorated with mistletoe—she smiles up at him.
“You know, Izuku, I’ve had a crush on you,” She admits. “I mean, not for very long, just a year or two. I’ve always liked you, I think you’re one of my best friends, but when you became Santa, it’s like I could finally see the sparkle in your eyes. Not that the brown was bad, before! But—it’s like you became who you were always supposed to be.” She huffs out a breath, finishing her little speech, before finally looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You have emeralds for eyes, I swear.”
“Oh, thanks, Ura-chako,” He says, looking back at her, to the welcoming slant of her brows, the sweet turn at the end of her nose. He realizes, belatedly, that he can’t figure out what color her eyes are—he thinks he should remember, that he should be able to see, but he just can’t. “Your eyes are very—warm.”
“Thanks, Izuku,” She says, nearly swooning, before casting an exaggerated glance over to the door, and back to him with yet even more hope written on her face. “There’s a mistletoe. Do you think it would be okay if I kissed you?”
“Sure, Ochako,” He says, with a lump at the back of his throat. Holding Uraraka, lightly, by the waist, he’s stuck by how much tenderness he feels for her. He might not like her, in that way—he’s almost certain he doesn’t—but he does love her, as a dear friend.
Their lips press together chastely, and—nothing. No sparks, no twinkles, not even a shimmer. It just feels like he’s kissed his childhood friend and pseudo-babysitter on the lips, which is...kind of awkward.
When they pull away, Uraraka looks like she already knows.
“Nothing?” She asks, only a little defeated. She lowers from her tippy-toes and back onto the ground.
“No,” He says. “I’m sorry, Uraraka.”
“It’s okay,” She sighs. “Ryukyu is right, I am still young. I have plenty of time for crushes—it’s better to get this one out of the way, right?” She pats him on the chest with a rueful little smile. “I guess I’m glad, though. You have a soulmate out there and—I got an opportunity to finally tell you how I feel.”
Over her shoulder, Izuku can see Tsu quietly round the hall, in her hands a pint of mochi ice cream—she’d probably heard the trajectory of the date and came prepared.
“That’s one way to think about it,” Izuku says, looking back to Uraraka. “Who knows? Maybe the person you’re supposed to be with is someone who’s been around this whole time.”
“Oh, hearing it like that makes it sound so stupid,” She whines.
“It’s not! I think it’s very true—just maybe not for me.”
“If you say so, Deku,” She pats him once more on the chest before stepping away. This time, at least, her smile looks a little more lively. “Thanks.”
“Thank you. You were a lovely date, Uraraka.” And it’s true—she was, even if the date itself may not have been. Another quick glance up confirms to him that Tsu is waiting patiently for his departure; he takes another step back. “It looks like I’ll have a lot more to go on.”
She gives a watery little laugh as he leaves. “Good luck!”