No additional warnings for this scene.
Danny was in a Santa hat, and Nicholas was not, despite everyone’s best attempts to shove one on his head. They were all decorating the office for the holidays, and Nicholas was unimpressed. He felt it was slightly improper for them to endorse a religious holiday – celebrate one, you have to celebrate them all, and then how much work would get done between Christmas and Beltane and Eid and Baha’u’lla’s birthday? – but it was “tradition” which, according to everyone but him, made it legally binding. It was his first Christmas in Sandford with what was now ‘his team’ and he dreaded it.
He was ostentatiously reading a report at the door of his office, trying to inspire the rest of them to stop with the crepe paper and pine boughs, when he realized talk had turned to a holiday office party. He repressed a shudder and made himself listen in, just to know what he was in for. The Turners agreed to make their famous New England Oyster Dressing and Tony generated a loud cheer when he offered to bring in a few gallons of his wife’s apparently lethal eggnog.
“I’ll get some Chanukahs!” Doris said happily, throwing tinsel on the small, anemic tree in the corner. Nicholas looked at the tree, thinking of Charlie Brown, then turned to Doris.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, them pastries the French do.”
“Chanukah is not a pastry, Doris.”
“Yeah! It’s some kind of glazed donut thing.”
“Chanukah is not a French pastry.”
“Oh yeah, it is.” Danny nodded vigorously, the hat slipping.
“Everyone knows that, Nick.” Wainwright frowned in displeasure at Nicholas’ refusal to accept the obvious.
“Chanukah is not French!” Nicholas yelled and everyone stopped to stare at him.
“Next your going to say Rudolph don’t have a red nose.” Tony clucked, shaking his head.
“He does, of course he does.” Nicholas nodded, confused.
“Well first you’re saying Chanukah isn’t French. Never know.” Wainwright glared.
“Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer isn’t even real!”
The place stopped dead. Everyone stared at him, and he felt the sudden need to justify the obvious.
“It’s a song! Just a song! About Santa’s reindeer!” Nicholas was back to yelling.
“Oh and I suppose you’re going to say Santa doesn’t exist either!” Doris screeched indignantly, and Cartwright wrapped an arm over her shoulders, patting her in genuine concern.
“Well of course he doesn’t!” Nicholas yelled again. The Turners both turned pale white and Tony gasped in horror as Doris collapsed into Cartwright with both hands over her mouth. Wainwright snorted “for fuck’s sake” and shared a dark look with Walker, who shook his head sadly. Nicholas looked at each of them in turn. “He does NOT exist!” He said it again, trying to get through to them, but Danny grabbed him and hauled him out of the room and they stumbled into the notorious coat closet.
“I’m worried about you, Nicholas.” Danny said, pushing him into a pile of jackets and turning the light on. He looked serious and annoyed, even in the damn ridiculous hat, and Nicholas laughed.
“Why? Because I don’t believe Santa Claus exists?”
Danny recoiled in horror. “Shhhhhhhhh!!!!!”
“Danny, you cannot possibly believe that Santa Claus is real.”
“Well who else brings you presents every year? Nicholas, this is serious. Coal. We’re talking socks full of coal.”
“You are pulling my leg.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you anything?” Danny hissed.
“Yes, she taught me how to brush my teeth and how to say thank you and that Santa Claus does NOT exist!” Nicholas stamped a foot in exclamation.
Danny stared at him, his eyes wide and full of grief. “Your own mother? Oh, Nicholas…I’m so sorry…”
Nicholas stared back. “For what?”
“I didn’ think you were abused as a child. I didn’ know.” Emotionally crushed, Danny reached out and pulled him into a hug.
“Danny, I was not abused as a child.” Nicholas said simply, patting him reassuringly on the back.
“What a cunt! To convince you that Santa doesn’t exist…oh, oh Nicholas.” Danny ignored him and squeezed tighter. “Don’ worry, Nicholas, I’ll take care of you. Santa will understand. I’ll send him a letter explaining everything!”
“What? Oh…oh alright. You do that…Danny?”
“Oh Nicholas!” Danny was close to tears, distraught, and kept squeezing.
“…I need to breathe.”
Danny reluctantly let go, sniffing. Nicholas straightened the hat on Danny’s head, kissed him on the cheek, and they stepped out of the closet to loud cat calls from the Andes.
“It’s all okay. I’m writing a letter to Santa for ‘im.” Danny announced, and everyone nodded sympathetically, trying not to look directly at Nicholas, probably scared that the disbelief was catching or something. Nicholas just shrugged. How hard can you fight a police department that believes in Santa Claus? He stepped over to help Doris decorate the tree, and she threw tinsel on his head.