Silence. Snow. Ohio

The Grinch discovered his feelings at the worst possible moment.

Mid-flight.

Over Ohio.

With Santa humming softly.

“Stop that,” the Grinch snapped.

Santa looked up from the reins. “Humming?”

“No. Existing… like that.”

Santa’s cheeks flushed a festive red. “I can’t help it. Christmas Eve does things to me.”

The Grinch gagged. “Please never say that sentence again.”

The sleigh hit turbulence. Santa stumbled—accidentally falling into the Grinch’s lap. The sleigh did not care. The universe did not care. Canon did not care.

“Oh! Oh dear,” Santa said, hands braced on either side of the Grinch. “This is… closer than usual.”

The Grinch froze. Brain empty. Heart doing parkour.

“Get off,” he whispered, voice betraying him like a traitor elf.

Santa didn’t move.

“Your heart,” Santa said softly, because he had lost all sense of self-preservation, “it’s ringing louder than my bells.”

The bells jingled.

Aggressively.

“I am begging you,” the Grinch hissed, “do not compare my cardiovascular system to holiday accessories.”

Santa smiled with the devastating warmth of a man who believed in miracles and apparently this.

“I used to think Christmas was about giving,” Santa said. “But now I think it’s about… connection.”

The Grinch screamed internally.

“You’re doing a monologue,” he said. “I hate monologues.”

“And yet you’re listening.”

Silence. Snow. Ohio.

The Grinch’s heart grew another half size just to spite him.

“I don’t belong here,” the Grinch muttered. “I’m not joy. I’m not cheer. I’m… sarcasm with trauma.”

Santa cupped his face. CUPPED. HIS. FACE.

“You are the quiet moment after laughter,” Santa said reverently.

“The calm after the carol.”

“The reason Christmas feels earned.”

The Grinch’s soul left his body and filed a complaint.

“You can’t say things like that,” he whispered. “I will emotionally combust.”

“Then combust,” Santa said gently.

They kissed.

The sleigh rang.

The reindeer screamed.

A mall Santa somewhere dropped his cocoa.

It was tender. It was wrong. It was poorly angled.

When they pulled apart, the Grinch stared at Santa, horrified.

“…Did we just save Christmas by kissing?”

Santa nodded, misty-eyed. “True love’s sleigh kiss. It’s in the bylaws.”

“I hate everything,” the Grinch said, leaning in again.

The bells rang louder.

Somewhere, Mariah Carey reached a note she wasn’t supposed to reach.

Christmas survived.

But your sanity did not.