"I just need to clear my head with a walk. But I need to get back to the hospital in a few days. Maybe I can get more time off in a couple of weeks or so. I'm not ready to up and quite my job to move here quite yet." She said with a pointed look towards Michael.
Michael held up his hands in surrender, he wasn't going to fight this fight right now. A few minutes after she vanished through the door another man came in. Long lambskin coat down to his boots, buffalo plaid shirt, wild white hair with a long beard. It couldn't be, Michael thought. Eric was right, the man wasn't fat, sure he had a gut, but he seemed solid and immovable, more like a stone than a jolly old elf.
Michael stood and the man fixed his with a look that saw right through him, even as he smiled. "Ah, Michael Laine, you've grown up. Ten out of eighteen years on the nice list if I recall. Not a good record." Santa gave deep laugh despite the words.
"I was a shitty teenager." Michael admitted, "I was struggling with myself, still am."
"Some never stop, but I think you might be close." Santa tapped the side of his nose. "How's Eric?"
"Awake. He's talking with Bix right now." Michael probably wasn't very good at keeping the hurt out of his voice as he turned his gaze on the closed bedroom door.
Santa nodded slowly, stroking his beard in thought for a moment. "Eric is a kind soul. Show him you want to be there for him and he'll forgive you long before you forgive yourself."
Michael sighed and slumped back down into the chair. "You know him better than I do."
"Don't be to down on yourself about that. I know most people quite well. It's my job, after all. Our dear doctor Otso for one. He's a healer at heart, he sees someone who needs fixing and he can't help himself. The problem is, he hasn't found the right person to fix him in return." Santa said as he laid eyes on the Michael's tail.
"He's hurt?" Michael asked softly.
"He's lonely. Wolves don't do well alone, not as long as he has been, they need another wolf around, crave it. And deep down some humans are the same way." Santa gave him a pointed look, then strode to the bedroom door to knock.
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"Isä, it's too much." Eric sat in the bed, the intricately carved box Bix had been carrying open in front of him, inside was an equally beautifully carved wooden flute. Larger than the flutes he had seen, but perfectly sized for a reindeer. "I don't even know how to play." He had taken it out, holding it gingerly as Tag explained to him what they had done to heal him so quickly. The blood bonding, and apologized for doing it while he wasn't awake. Though Eric had assured him that it was fine.
"Well, we're supposed to bond as family, and I thought this was a good way. It's a family heirloom, I got it from my father, he from his, and so on, I don't know how far back. I can play it, and I can teach you." Eric looked at Bix, he never would have taken the burly reindeer as a musician, but he took the instrument from Eric's hands gently, and began to play. The sound was deeper than human flutes as well, haunting and soft. After a bit he lowered the flute and held it back out.
"If it's a family heirloom, shouldn't Tag..?" Eric protested again.
"He's never had much interest in it. It was his idea actually. As soon as we got back from the neuvesto he practically shoved it into my hands. Especially once he found out you were the older brother." Bix snorted. Eric placed the instrument back in it's box and leaned over to hug Bix. The older reindeer stiffened for a moment, then returned the hug.
Once it broke, Eric looked at him quizzically. "Wait. I'm older than Tag?"
"Not by much, one day before him, but from what Michael has told me, there's less than twelve hours between you. Tag is now claiming you're his long lost twin isoveli." He shook his head with a long suffering sigh. "Henget auttavat minua."
"I also need to learn Finnish." Eric muttered, and Bix just nodded. There as a knock on the bedroom door and the older reindeer got up to answer it.
"Sir. I, uh, wasn't expecting you." Bix sounded on edge all of a sudden and when Eric looked back up he saw why. Even though Bix was bigger, Santa seemed to somehow be the bigger presence standing in the door way.
"You don't need to be so formal, Bix. I keep telling you that. I just came to check in on Eric." Santa stepped up to the side of the bed, and Bix looked about to leave. "You stay. In fact, Michael, come in here, too." He didn't raise his voice but soon the tall, lean form of Michael Lain was sanding next to Bix. Eric suddenly felt very small under the gaze of those three.
"I'm sorry." He started, looking at Santa. "I crashed the sleigh."
Santa snorted, and then broke out into a laugh. "Only you could apologize for getting hurt. What you did was save Clyde from a broken neck. The sleigh made it out with a cracked runner and some chipped paint, hardly damage worth noting. Even the parcels were fine for the most part." Santa shook his head. "You got the worst of it, crushed between the ice and the sleigh. I'm just glad you're alright."
Eric felt his ears heating up, something he figured out was a reindeer blush. "You came down just to check on me? I know you're busy.."
Santa sat down in the chair next to the bed, placing his hand on Eric's shoulder. "You reindeer are more than just sled pullers to me, you're my team, and basically part of my family. We may not have much time to show it, but that's how me and the missus sees you, all of you." He added with a pointed look to Bix. "I wouldn't be deserving of my name if I neglected even one of you. Chin up, the doctor thinks you'll be back on your hooves in time to fly on Christmas Eve, so just focus on getting better."
"I will." Eric assured him.
"Good. I'll have the elves bring down some of the missus hot chocolate. That'll perk you right up. But.. you are right. I only had a little time, I have to go over the list for Western Australia today. Never done." He laughed as he got to his feet. "You two make sure he follows the doctor's orders, understood?" Both Bix and Michael nodded their assurances. "And Michael. Your ears."
Eric looked over to see Michael reaching for his ears, which now came to distinct points. "Oh for fuck's sake." He muttered as he wandered off, maybe to find a mirror.
"Language!" Santa called after him. "Three years he missed the nice list for excessive cussing." He added in a softer whisper for Eric, who couldn't help but grin and laugh at that. "On last thing. Bix is your father now, yes. But so is he. And he's trying to prove it in his own way, he's called out of work to take care of you while you're recuperating. Don't let who someone was keep you from seeing who they're trying to be. You can never be on the naughty list so many years that you can't make the nice list later, I always say. Now, I really must get back. Bix, you and Tag have the rest of the day off, have some family time." And with that, Santa left, he never did sit still long.