Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Mail’s here.” Beel said, dropping an oversized bag full of letters at Satan’s door.

Satan grumbled, and came to take the bag.  It was his least favorite time of year.  Don’t get him wrong, Diavolo’s introduction of secular ‘Christmas’ celebrations were fun, and they definitely made Mammon a lot easier to deal with since everyone everywhere was partaking in his particular sin for once.  But the human realm’s Christmas included sending letters to Santa every year. Only, when filled with hope and wonder and whatever other bullshit they taught kids to put into letters, somehow their misspelled letters to Santa Satan got to him.  And he was expecting letters, so he had to look through every single one of them because he knew better than to leave them unopened. They didn’t age well.

“Dear Satan, this year I want…”

“Dear Satan, I’ve been a good boy, so…”

“Dear Satan, Mommy said I couldn’t have cake until I wrote to you…”

They were all the same, and Satan felt his eyes crossing.  As he tossed another one in the discard pile, something in the bag caught his eye, and he pulled it out.

Whoa, this kid doubled down on their spelling issue.

Dear Satan, Satan no, you know what? Yes. Dear Satan:
          I’ve been a kid this year. I don’t know if that means good or bad or whatever, but… All I really want are books. So, you know, give the cool shoes and technology to other kids and just.. Real books, okay? I don’t even care what they’re about. I’ll read them. Dry history? Check. Romances with half-naked dudes on the cover? I mean ew, but ok, I can skip the gross parts, there’s some good stuff in those.  But yeah. Just.. Books, if you would. I’m dyslexic, so no one ever wants to give me books because they think it’s mean or something, but it’s really not, I really just want to read, even if it’s harder or takes longer, books are the best. Santa never responds to me or anything, so if you can’t give me books, maybe just say hi? That’d be cool. 
                        Harvey

Wait. So this kid actually wrote to him and wanted books? And people didn’t give him books? He could do that. Any kid that wanted books deserved books. Regardless of whatever was going on with their brain.
Slipping the letter into his pocket, he set aside the unread mail and went off in search of Diavolo and passage to the human realm.

“So you’re saying you want permission to travel to the human realm in order to find this child who wrote to you, and then get them books to read, leaving them at their home under the guise of Santa?” Barbatos asked, as Diavolo simply considered him.

“That’s it in a nutshell, yes.” Satan said. “I was thinking I could even wear a Santa hat in case someone sees me.”

“Why, though?” Diavolo asked, then. “You’ve ignored all of these letters every year.”

“He wrote to me. Even after he misspelled Santa twice, he just gave in and actually wrote to me because Santa never gets him books anyway. It just.. It makes me so incredibly angry that a child who wishes to learn and grow through books is not being allowed that freedom.”

Diavolo smiled.

“Granted, under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You take at least one picture of yourself in a Santa hat, and bring me back eggnog.”

“I could make you eggnog, sir…” Barbatos said, somewhat offended.

“Devildom eggnog is missing something. It’s just not the same.”

Satan sighed. He hated taking selfies. “Fine.” He said. “Deal.”

Wandering around in a Santa hat made people tend to smile at him instead of backing away in fear like he’d been used to. He knew he had a bit of an overbearing aura, but he actually didn’t mind the smiles.  He simply nodded in acknowledgment, though, he knew that his smiles looked fake and creepy, at least if you asked Asmo.

It didn’t take too long to find Harvey’s home.  In it, a set of incredibly boring normal parents, and one approximately twelve year old boy who wanted to read things.  Satan quietly cased the place, figuring out what spells he’d need to get inside without being noticed.  Then, he went to four different local bookstores, gathering a ridiculous number of books appropriate for his age group, and up from there.

His arms loaded down with bags full of books, Satan suddenly remembered that he needed to present wrapped gifts, if he was going to be a proper Santa. He sighed. He hated going into those big stores full of too much everything that was all poorly made.  But that was where one got wrapping supplies. 

That was when he was saved by a passing teenager.

“Hey Mister, do you need those gifts wrapped? We’ve got a booth where we’re wrapping gifts to raise money for our Competitive Mathematics Club at school!

Satan blinked. “Competitive Mathematics? That’s a thing?”

“It sure is! We went to state last year, and we’re raising money to be able to do more competitions!”

“Alright, but I have a lot of books here. Are you sure?”

“Books are fun to wrap!” the teen said, and Satan just laughed and dutifully followed along.

Lucifer took a sip of his demonus and chuckled.  This was not at all what he was expecting to see when Diavolo had asked him to keep an eye on his brother who’d been acting suspiciously. But there he was, buying books, taking to local teens without scaring them off, learning how to gift wrap presents… this was surreal, but he couldn’t really argue with it.

Over the course of the time that he was watching, each of his brothers had wandered in to check in about something, and gotten ensnared watching Satan actually acting like a perfectly normal human.  Sure, he wasn’t one, but not one of them had expected him to be able to manage it. This had become their evening’s entertainment, curled up in the library furniture or on the floor, watching the magic screen show Satan’s day out.

“Did he just give money away to those teens? He just gave them money! Why can’t he just give me money?!” Mammon, of course, was irritated.

It was late, and Satan was pretty certain that all of Harvey’s family had gone to sleep, so he cast his small ritual, and found himself standing amidst the silent living room, with the small tree and its twinkling lights filling his vision.  He started to unpack the books, nestling them in and around the other gifts under the tree.  He’d made sure to get a book each for the parents, too, things he thought they might like just from his simple observations earlier that morning.  Once he had all of the books unpacked, he pulled out his D.D.D. It had no signal up here, but the camera still functioned, so he took a quick selfie (or three, let’s be fair some of Asmo’s vanity rubbed off).  He was so distracted thinking about his next moves in regards to fulfilling Diavolo’s request that he didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs.

“Santa?!” The boy said, stunned.

Satan, of course, was more surprised by this interaction than the child, and didn’t realize he’d shifted to his demon form until the boy’s eyes got wide.

“…Satan?” he said tentatively then, and Satan chuckled and nodded.

“You’re Harvey, Right?” Satan said, and crouched down. He was taller than most humans normally, but in his demon form he knew it was a little much, especially for the tween in front of him.

“I am! You got my letter? I thought those were fake!”

“Depends on what you’re thinking when you send them.” Satan said. “I get lots of letters this time of year.”

“Really?  Did you bring me books? Also you’re early. It’s not even Christmas eve yet.”

“Well, I don’t have to run on Santa’s schedule, so I don’t. Makes timing easier. Also, many fewer kids to visit.” Satan said. “And as far as books go, well, you’ll have to wait until Christmas. But I definitely brought you suspiciously rectangular gifts! And ones for your parents, as well.”

“Thanks, Mister Satan!”

“And, Harvey. If you keep writing to me, I’ll make sure to bring you a new book every year, okay?”

“Okay! Can I take a selfie with you? I’m more interesting than the tree, I bet!”

Christmas morning dawned, and Harvey excitedly opened book after book.  And none of them were the icky romance novels, either.

His father, confused at where all the books came from, carefully opened the one addressed to him.  It was a nice hardcover self-help looking book.

“Encouraging your Dyslexic Child to Read.” He said, and Harvey laughed.

“Satan has a sense of humor. I knew it.” Harvey said, and his mother laughed.

“Harvey dear, you meant Santa, right?”

“Uh. No. I wrote to Satan this year, because I kept spelling it wrong and gave up.”

“So Satan brought you all these books?”

“Yeah, it’s like I told you a couple nights ago. I got to meet him too. He’s super tall!”

Harvey’s parents shared a kids-will-be-kids look, but Harvey just smiled. He knew he’d met Satan. You didn’t forget someone with horns and glowing green eyes, even if they were wearing a Santa hat.

Thunk.

Satan set down a bag on Diavolo’s desk.

“Okay, Eggnog.  I got you this growler from a brewery, it’s alcoholic. If you bring the bottle back, they’ll give you a discount.”

Diavolo reached for the growler with toddler-level grabby hands.

“I also got you like four different kinds from the supermarket, and one from a restaurant.”

“Satan, this is above and beyond.”

“I know.” Satan said, and Diavolo’s D.D.D. chimed with an incoming photo, Satan smiling in front of a Christmas tree, Santa hat and everything, with a cute boy sneaking down the stairs in the background.

“Oh this photo is perfect! I know, I know, don’t send it to—“

“Don’t worry about it.” Satan said, shrugging. “I already changed it to be my profile pic. Anyway, but like if you’re going to post it somewhere, crop the kid out, ok? Or mosaic his face or something.”

“Will do.” Diavolo said, still considering Satan. “What else do you want?”

“Ah. So I am that transparent.  I expect to want to go visit this child to gift them a new book, yearly, if they write to me again.”

“Oh. Is that all? Yeah, that’ll be fine.” Diavolo said. “Since I’m betting you’ll be willing to get me more eggnog when you’re up there.”

“Only if you share!” Satan said, laughing. “Seriously, I had some fresh from that brewery. It’s surprisingly delicious.”

In the corner, Barbatos continued to be offended.