Chapter Text
The Macy’s Santa looked better without the beard, in Luke's opinion.
“Come back here!” the security guard screeched. He pelted after them, the felt tips of his pointy ears flapping angrily in the wind. The jaunty striped hat looked out of place next to the grimace on his face, which was glowing cherry red with exertion and reminded Luke of a very wet, very round summer squash.
“He’d make a great Santa,” Bobby snorted hysterically, jogging backwards. They watched the elf guard bowl through a line of families. The horrified Santa, now bare-faced, was trying to keep the illusion alive by burrowing into the collar of his red velvet suit.
They kept running. Luke was laughing too hard to answer, clutching what looked like a straggly white octopus to his chest.
“Don’t make me call the police!” The elf guard was panting, sidestepping the goopy remains of an abandoned ice cream cone in front of the phone repair kiosk.
“Tell them we said hi!” Bobby shouted gleefully.
“Come on!” Luke crashed through the door to the service hallway. The metal clang echoed eerily against the pipes of the unfinished ceiling. They sprinted towards the loading dock, the ends of their coats flapping wildly behind them.
The metal face of the freight elevator flashed their reflections as he swept past: Bobby’s shaggy black hair was plastered to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. His Nirvana hoodie was completely covered in synthetic pine needles. Luke was equally disheveled; his chestnut mop was sticking out in all directions and his favourite black jeans had been stained white by the fake snow.
They charged out into the brisk night, turning the corner towards the cherry red Camaro that was purring in wait against the sidewalk.
“Did you get it?” Alex asked eagerly. Luke wrenched open the door to the back seat, flopping down next to him with a satisfied sigh. His heart was still pounding away in his chest; the buzz of adrenaline coursing through him made him feel like his teeth were rattling.
“Of course we did. Who do you think you’re talking to?” Bobby let himself through the passenger door, tossing the stolen beard victoriously onto the console between them.
“The same morons who tried to climb the Atlas Fountain last year and ended up with pneumonia,” Reggie answered from the driver’s seat. He swatted at Bobby’s ankle, which was poised to raise one muddy sneaker onto the dashboard.
“Only one of us got pneumonia,” Alex pointed out, “and the only reason you didn’t climb up there with us is because you were filming it.”
“It’s your channel,” Reggie shrugged at the rearview mirror. “Someone had to hold the camera.”
“We could’ve used a tripod. Do you think it’ll be big enough?” Luke couldn’t sit still. He rifled through the plastic bags at his feet for the neon green spray paint. The fake snow on his knees was coming off in clouds against the back of Bobby’s seat - he made a mental note to clean it up before Reggie could notice, or there’d be hell to pay.
“I think so.” Oblivious to the powdery carnage behind him, Reggie stretched the elastic strip of the beard as wide as it would go. “It won’t be seamless, but it’ll get the job done.”
“Do we have everything else?” Alex was grinning stupidly in the backseat, snickering under his breath at Luke, who was trying to sweep the snow into a plastic bag and only succeeded in smearing it all over his hands and wrists. Luke glared back, rummaging through the bag again. He came up with four aerosol cans, a black sharpie, and a family-sized tube of extra strength gorilla glue. Out of spite, he tossed them all, slippery and covered in shitty fake snow, into Alex’s clean lap, where they rolled out of his flailing arms and onto the pristine floor.
Alex glared at him. Is this what you wanted? He mouthed silently. It looked like a paint bomb had exploded under their feet.
If I go down, I’m taking you with me, Luke mouthed back. Alex stuck out his tongue.
“Well then, let’s get on with it.” Bobby drummed impatiently on the leather edge of his seat. “What are we waiting for?”
“Fuck around in your own car, why don’t you,” Reggie squawked indignantly, smacking at Bobby again, but he flipped the gearshift into drive and peeled away from the curb. The city was bright tonight; every house was illuminated in swaths of rainbow lights and the occasional inflatable reindeer. “Where is it, anyway? Why am I always driving?”
“Daddy dearest won’t give my keys back until I play nice with our new step-mommy,” Bobby said lightly, rolling down his window to let the stale heat out. “It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.”